#and i was obsessed with that name until we lost touch

[misswynters]

Christmas Present

featuring. viktor x afab!reader

warnings. MDNI SMUT (18+), reader wearing lingerie, riding, praising, unprotected sex, blowjob, creampie, viktor being obsessed with hearing the bell you are wearing, soft sex, bondage (m. receiving), breeding, begging and whining, aftercare at the end

requested by anon (combined the christmas and the riding viktor requests)

a/n. got lazy at the end :(

The workshop was unusually quiet for the evening, a rare stillness settling over the room. The only sounds were the faint hum of machines idling in the background and the soft creak of Viktor’s cane as he approached the workbench. You could hear his measured steps echoing off the walls, the rhythm unhurried, likely lost in some grand idea. You smiled to yourself, anticipation bubbling as you sat in his chair, carefully positioning yourself for the reveal.

The lingerie you wore was festive yet bold, a delicate mix of red and green fabric that hugged your curves. A small, golden bow sat perfectly in the center of your sternum, just above a jingling bell that chimed softly with every shift of your body. You felt equal parts daring and nervous, unsure how Viktor might react to such an unconventional “gift.” But you knew him, beneath his composed exterior lay a man brimming with emotions he often kept restrained. Tonight, you intended to bring those emotions to the surface.

Viktor called your name, his voice carrying an affectionate cadence as it bounced through the workshop. “Are you here? I thought we agreed to meet for dinner, not…hide in my workshop.” His words were laced with amusement, though there was an edge of curiosity.

You waited until you heard the soft click of the door closing behind him before turning the chair around slowly. His amber eyes widened at the sight of you, his steps faltering as though he had forgotten how to walk. For a moment, he simply stared, his mouth parting slightly before snapping shut. His fingers gripped the handle of his cane tightly, and you could see the muscles in his jaw flex as he struggled to find words.

“Viktor,” you said softly, your voice laced with playful confidence. “Merry Christmas.”

He took a shaky breath, his eyes roaming over you. It was hesitant at first, as though he were unsure if he was allowed to look, but soon lingering on every detail. The red and green satin, the bow, the golden bell. It all seemed to render him completely speechless. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and when he finally managed to speak, his voice was a hushed whisper.

“Y-you look stunning,” he stammered, his accent thick, each word tinged with awe. “I did not expect this. You are…my present?”

You nodded, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “Do you like it?”

His steps were hesitant as he moved closer, his cane tapping lightly against the floor. When he reached the chair, he leaned down, his hands gripping the armrests tightly, knuckles white with the effort it took not to touch you. His breath was warm against your face, and his amber eyes, usually so focused and calculating, now shimmered with a mix of love and unspoken need.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. His gaze flickered to the golden bell resting against your sternum. A small, almost mischievous smile played at the corners of his lips as he reached out, his fingers brushing the bell lightly. The soft chime it produced sent a shiver down your spine, and Viktor’s eyes darkened at the sound. “Thought of everything,” he said, his tone warm yet trembling slightly. “Even this small detail…too much for me, my love.”

You reached up, your fingers curling around the edges of his vest and tugging him closer. His body stiffened for a moment before he gave in, leaning closer until your noses were nearly touching. His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, his internal battle written all over his face.

“Are you just going to stand there and admire me, or are you going to do something about it?” you teased, your voice a soft purr as your fingers trailed down from his shoulders to his chest. Lowering down to his stomach.

Viktor let out a shaky laugh, his lips twitching as though he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “Taking my breathe away,” he said, his voice low and filled with a mix of reverence and amusement. “You know this, yes?”

“Of course,” you replied, your eyes locking with his as you leaned back slightly in the chair, giving him a better view of your figure. “Now, are you going to unwrap your present, or should I do it for you?”

Viktor’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he simply stared at you, as though trying to commit every detail to memory. Then, with a determination that sent a thrill through you, he straightened and moved his hands from the armrests to your thighs, his touch was light. His fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against the satin fabric, his movements reverent.

“My pretty gift,” he said softly, his voice filled with emotion. “Not just tonight, but always. How did I ever deserve you?”

“You don’t have to deserve me, Viktor,” you replied, your voice equally soft as you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones. “You just have to love me.”

“I do,” he said, his voice firm now, his amber eyes locking with yours. “More than I can ever express.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. You tugged him closer again, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow at first but quickly deepened. Viktor’s hands gripped your thighs more firmly, his restraint slipping as he poured every ounce of his love and need into the kiss. The bell at your sternum chimed softly as you shifted, the sound blending with the faint hum of the workshop’s machines. Viktor pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “The sound… It is perfect. Just like you.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you smiled against his lips. “Merry Christmas, Viktor,” you murmured.

“And to you, my love,” he replied, his voice full of warmth and promise as he leaned in for another kiss, the workshop fading away as the two of you lost yourselves in each other.

Viktor's breath lingered against your lips as he leaned in again, his hand cupping your jaw delicately. His kiss was featherlight at first, as though he were savoring the taste of you, committing every moment to memory. The softness of his lips, the way his thumb brushed against your cheek. It was achingly tender, his care evident in every movement. Time seemed to stretch as the two of you stayed like that, exchanging gentle kisses that grew slower, deeper, more meaningful with each passing moment.

Viktor's free hand found its way to your shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the delicate strap of your lingerie. His other hand remained steady on your jaw, holding you as if you might disappear at any moment. When he finally pulled back, it wasn't far. His forehead rested against yours, and his amber eyes gazed into yours. His breathing was uneven, each exhale mingling with yours as the two of you stayed in this shared bubble of intimacy.

"You are..." he started, his voice hushed but thick with emotion, "you are more than I could have ever dreamed of. Sometimes I wonder if this is all some invention of my mind."

You chuckled softly, your hand rising to brush a strand of hair away from his face. "This is very real," you murmured, your voice filled with affection. "And so am I."

His lips curved into a faint smile, but the look in his eyes was serious, filled with love and awe. He nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over your face as though he were memorizing every detail. Then, without another word, he leaned in again, this time closing the distance with a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was as though a dam had broken. His lips moved against yours with a new passion, every kiss filled with a need that had been simmering under the surface. His hand left your shoulder to slide down to your waist, pulling you closer against him. The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against yours, and a soft hum of pleasure escaped you, which only seemed to spur him on.

Viktor pulled back briefly, just long enough to catch his breath, his eyes darkened with desire as they met yours. "You make it hard to think straight," he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent, sending a thrill through you.

"Isn’t that the point?" you teased, your voice soft but breathless as you pulled him closer, your arms wrapping around his neck. "Seems like I’m doing something right."

His response was a soft laugh, but it quickly dissolved as he dove back into the kiss, this time with even more passion. His hands slid around your waist, holding you firmly yet gently, and with a surprising strength, he lifted you out of the chair. Your body pressed flush against his as his arms wrapped around you, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the world. You yelped his name, surprised by the sudden action.

He only smiled, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something deeper. "Sure, full of surprises tonight," he murmured, "but two can play that game."

He turned, carefully sitting back in the chair while positioning you to straddle his lap. The new position made your breath hitch as your knees settled on either side of him, your bodies impossibly close. His hands settled on your waist again, holding you steady as his gaze roamed over you, lingering on the golden bell nestled against your chest.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward, and he reached out to flick the bell lightly again. The soft chime it produced seemed to echo through the workshop, and his eyes flicked back to yours, filled with mischief. "I like this sound," he admitted, his voice a little rough. "I may want to hear it more."

Your cheeks heated at his words, and you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you. "You'll have to work for that," you teased, your fingers slipping under the edge of his vest, brushing against the soft fabric of his shirt.

Viktor's breath faltered as your hand brushed against him, his fingers tightening around your waist with a quiet intensity. "Everything about you is a temptation," he said softly, his voice laced with both admiration and desire.

You smiled up at him, a hint of playfulness in your eyes. "I think you're just weak for me," you teased, your voice tender and full of warmth.

His only response was another kiss, this one searing in its intensity. Your hands wandered further, slipping under his shirt to trace the lines of his torso. His body tensed slightly under your touch, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding up your back and pulling you even closer against him.

The golden bell jingled softly with every movement, a reminder of the festive occasion, but the two of you were far too lost in each other to notice much else. Viktor's lips left yours to trail down your jaw, his kisses soft but deliberate as he moved to your neck. You tilted your head to the side, giving him better access, and a soft sigh escaped you as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot. You whined slightly, your hands tangling in his hair as he continued his care.

"Yes, my love?" he replied, his voice a soft whisper against your skin.

"Keep going, please-" you begged, your voice barely audible but filled with need.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck. "I had no intention of doing so," he assured you, his lips trailing back up to capture yours again in another passionate kiss.

Viktor’s hands slid down to your waist, gripping you more firmly as he pressed you closer against him. The movement was slow but deliberate, and your body instinctively followed his lead, your hips shifting to meet his. The only thing separating the two of you was the thin layer of fabric you wore.

He smiled faintly, though the intensity in his gaze never wavered. One of his hands trailed upward, brushing against the small of your back before settling there, holding you steady as he encouraged your movements with a subtle shift of his hips. The friction elicited a soft moan from you, and Viktor’s grip tightened slightly in response.

The sound of the golden bell ringing faintly between you only heightened the moment, the delicate chime contrasting with the growing intensity of your shared passion. Viktor’s lips left yours to trail along your jawline, leaving a path of warm, lingering kisses. When he reached the curve of your neck, his lips hovered there for a moment, his breath hot against your skin.

“...so perfect,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of reverence and longing.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you tilted your head to the side, giving him better access. “That's sweet of you to say,” you replied, your voice soft but playful.

Viktor let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your neck. “Sweet, hmm?” he said, his tone laced with a teasing edge. “You may find I am not so sweet after all.”

“Viktor,” you breathed, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as you leaned closer, your lips brushing against his ear.

His response was a shaky exhale, his head dipping forward to press a kiss to your shoulder. “It is you,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. “You make everything, every moment, so much more.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, your hands moving from his shoulders to cup his face. You guided his gaze back to yours, your thumb brushing lightly against his cheek. Viktor didn’t need to be told twice. His lips found yours again, and the two of you lost yourselves in each other, the rest of the world fading away. The chair creaked softly beneath you, but neither of you paid it any mind. All that mattered was the shared warmth between you, the unspoken promises conveyed in every kiss, every touch, every whispered breath.

His hands began to roam your body, not leaving a single part untouched. You began reaching down to undo the buttons of his trousers, and when you finally undid all of them, Viktor stopped. Looking at you in the eyes with a soft and kind expression. “My love, do you want to continue?

Then you slowly began stroke his cock starting with the tip, your thumb pressing lightly. This earned a ragged groan from him as he leaned his head back against the back of the chair.

“Y-you have… experience in everything don’t you? he whispered against your ear as your hand moved down to the base, pumping him a few times. Now that you actually look at it, it’s longer than what you thought. It has been so long since you found time to do this. He would always be so busy with his inventions, meeting with the council, etc.

Taking his now hard cock into your hand, you hovered over his hips. Your arousal was sticky, the soft layer that separated the two of you, clinging to your body. Then Viktor looped it around his finger, moving it to the side. “Go on,” he whispered his amber eyes looking at your with such love and desire. He took your smaller hand into his, helping you align his cock between your folds. “Let me help you.”

Oh, how you loved the way he looked at you. Maintaining eye contact while intimate always made you blush inside. Viktor began to slide it between your slick folds a few times, collecting the wetness that lingered before setting the thin fabric aside again. He pushed his tip slowly and antagonizing, as the two of you moaned softly. Leaning forward you flushed your chest against his, resting you head of his shoulder. He got ahold of your hips with a firm grip, slipping the palm of his hands towards the bottom of your ass.

He looked at you as he leaned toward you, his head laid on yours. Kissing you temple, as his lips brushed against your ear, reassuringly. “Doing alright, my love?”

You didn’t want to respond. Well, more like you couldn’t the overwhelming pleasure was too much for you so you just nodded in agreement. With that he began to lower you down, his cock slowly filling you up to the hilt. His long length being wrapped tightly by your walls, he wanted to let out a moan. But all that came out was a shaky sigh.

He slowly pulled out and pushed back in, each thrust causing soft, wet squelching sounds as your bodies met. The sound of your skin slapping was a reminder of how deeply he was filling you, every thrust a testament to the care he took in making sure you felt each inch of him. His pace was measured, slow, but intense. He was lost in the way your body responded to him, how tight and warm you were around him.

Every time he thrusted upwards, the golden bell that laid on your chest rang more loudly. It was like it ignited something in his that make his go slower but harder. He wanted to hear that bell ring more. The harder you bounced on his cock, the louder the bell rang. His chair creaked at the hinges from each impact.

Viktor kissed you slowly starting from the edge of your shoulder towards the end of your collarbone. Leaving wet kisses as he traveled up your neck, and finally reaching your jawline. His hand moving up between the valley of your chest. When he reached the precious bell, he flickered it with his fingers. Ding Ding Ding.

You had an idea, very brilliant one. Slowly you lifted yourself up from his hips, his cock falling limp. He looked up at you with curiosity.

He cupped your gently, “Where are you going?” he said softly, that it make your heart flutter even though you were in a compromising position. You didn’t say anything yet, thinking about how you were going to put your idea into words. A few seconds had passed before you could get the courage to ask.

“Where’s the ribbons at?” you asked, looking away shyly, not making eye contact with him.

“The satin ribbons we used for wrapping some of the presents?-” he replied, pondering trying to reach the depths of his mind to see if he can remember where he last placed them, unaware of your intentions.

You nodded yes, as he pointed towards a wooden cabinet near the table the two of you sat by. Walking over, with your legs trembling and weak, you reached the doors opening them with a creak. It was an old cabinet for sure. There were the ribbons, in the center with its pink satin colors slightly glowing with the dim lights. You picked it up and walked towards Viktor who was still siting in his chair, with somewhat of exhaustion lingering in his face.

Trying your best as you maintained eye contact, you lightly tied the ribbons around your chest. Once it was softly secure against your body with a bow finishing it off, you sat on his lap again.

Viktor’s hands, still gentle yet trembling with restraint, hovered over your waist as his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. The soft golden glow of the workshop lamps illuminated his tousled hair, casting shadows on his face that only deepened the intensity in his eyes. His breaths were shallow, and though his posture remained collected, you could feel the weight of his emotions beneath the surface.

“I… cannot do this to you,” he murmured into your ear, his voice thick. Accent curling around every word like a warm embrace. His eyes darted toward the ribbon tied loosely around your chest, the bell at its center giving a soft chime as you shifted.

You tilted your head, confused by the sudden hesitation. “Why not?” you asked, voice teasing but with curiosity.

Viktor pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that took your breath away. “Because…” He hesitated, his lips parting as if searching for the right words. “You are no gift to be unwrapped and claimed. You are so much more than that. I cannot bear to treat you as though you are anything less than my equal.”

His confession caught you off guard, your heart squeezing at the sincerity in his tone. There was something achingly vulnerable in the way he spoke, as if the very idea of reducing you to a “present” was an slur to the depth of his feelings for you.

The playful grin on your face softened into something more tender. “Oh-,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair, your touch gentle. “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

A flicker of a smile touched his lips, though his blush deepened. “I mean every word,” he said softly, his fingers brushing over the edge of the ribbon with reverence. “But…” His gaze turned quite mischievous, his golden eyes glinting with newfound confidence. “If it must be someone, then tie me up instead.”

Your eyebrows raised at his suggestion, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You?”

“Why not?” His tone was soft, but his words carried a daring edge. “If you are to tease me like this, then it is only fair I surrender myself to your whims. Let me be yours.” The image of Viktor, bound in ribbons and entirely at your mercy, sent a delicious shiver down your spine. You leaned forward, your lips brushing against his in a featherlight kiss before pulling back, your smile playful.

“You’re serious?”

His gaze never wavered. “For you? Of course, I’m always serious.” The boldness in his reply sent warmth flooding through you, and without hesitation, you reached for the loose ribbon on your chest, pulling it free with a gentle tug. It slid from your skin, the bell giving one last soft chime before you wrapped it around your hands.

“Let’s see how you handle being my present,” you slightly teased, looping the ribbon around his arms. Strapping them to the arms rest of the chair. Once you finished tying him up (with the finishing touches being bows on each side), you went on your knees placing you hands on his thighs. Caressing them upwards until it reached his glistening length.

One of your hands eagerly ran from base to shaft, the other resting comfortably on his thigh as your lips eagerly sucked on the tip. Biting your lower lip, you pulled your eyes away just for a second to glance at how evident he was. His length had gained its strength. You just can’t help the smile that breaks over your face. You were staring up at him through your eyelashes as you work your hands and mouth. His breath is shaking, as you go to lick up his length he quickly brings a hand towards your hair to curl into your head.

“Fuck.” he whispered out, so much pleasure building already with the added height of fear of someone walking in at anytime. Bursting through the door, like someone would always do.

Removing yourself briefly you locked eyes with him. “You are sure enjoying yourself, huh?” you let out a small chuckle, lightly scraping your teeth while looking back up at him with am innocent smile.

“S-stop teasing-” he softly stuttered, his hand laced back into your hair pushing you back down on his length.

You pressed your lips against the head of his cock, tongue darting out to taste the precum there. You gave kitten licks, wrapping your hand around the base and giving his length gentle pumps.

You maintained the eye contact, looking up at him while kissing his sensitive skin. Your free hand massaged his leg, up and down his thigh to ease the pain there and earning you another pleased sigh from his lips as his eyes fluttered shut.

He groaned, sagging back into his chair. As you continued, your hand found his, lacing your fingers together to ground himself. He let out soft moans, bucking his hips a bit as he muttered sweet nothings you couldn’t understand.

Taking his tip into your mouth, you began to lap and suck it before pushing yourself further. As you continued, he got louder without hesitation (though it wasn't loud enough it could be heard through the door) and more whinier.

He whined, moaning your name as softly. His muscles tensed as he gripped the arms of the chair, hard enough to make his knuckles go white. His chest moved upwards, voice breaking as he begged you to slow down between more broken begging of your name.

You ignored them, tears beginning to build and spill from your eyes as your own body demanded an end to the constant badgering at the back of your throat. He groaned loudly; your only warning before he was coming, thick, hot streams jetting into your mouth. You whimpered slightly.

His eyes are soft, almost shy. “Let me return the favor,” he says as he lifts up his head to look down at you, his voice low, warm. With careful movements, you stood up from your knees which were slightly red due to the hard floor as you straddled him once again.

You melted into him, feeling safe and loved. “Is there anything you want for Christmas?” Viktor asks, his voice hesitant, as though he’s unsure of what you’ll say.

You think for a moment, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "I want you to be a father," you say quietly, your heart full of warmth as you look into his eyes.

Viktor’s face flushes a deep red, his grip tightening gently around the chairs armrest. He looks at you as if processing your words, his expression both surprised and touched. Slowly, he adjusts you, making sure you’re comfortable as you straddle his lap once more. then you remembered that you hadn't came yet, so its a perfect opportunity.

Sinking down his sensitive length you let out a moan, your hands gripped the bottom of his vest. Viktor began to breath heavily, matching yours perfectly. Burying himself deep inside of you, wanting so badly to pull you into a hug. Sadly, his hands were still restrained. He whined against your lips, "C-can you untie the bows, Please-"

"Sorry Goldie, No can do," you said teasingly with a soft voice, wiggling your finger no towards his face.

He kept hitting the perfect spot, over and over again. It felt amazing. You leaned towards him, hands resting on his chest. Then you laid your head over his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He desperately wanted to hug you back that it was painfully noticeable. How he moved his head, caressing it against your arm. Smelling your scent of vanilla bean and coconut oil as he ran his big slightly curvy nose bumping on your forearm.

“Can you please untie me, my love” he begged once again, his hips bucking against yours delicately. The way he looked at you with the softness in his amber eyes. Oh, you couldn’t resist much. Barely lasting more than 5 minutes having his hands tied up, such a desperate man. Leaning back slightly with his cock still inside of you, you began to untie the bows. Luckily, you didn’t tie them tightly around his wrists so they easily came off in seconds.

Immediately, his hands went straight to your ass again, like earlier. This time however he spread them wider, the pleasure overwhelming his senses unable to fully control his grip on you. As he thrusted upwards, he set a slighter faster but nevertheless harder pace.

Viktor's hand slip up to the small on your back, pulling you towards his chest. All you could do was lay against him as he continued his pace. Occasionally you would bounce on him, nearly pulling out before going back down. But it was very difficult to keep up with him as he desperately tried to find his own release inside of you after a longing of teasing. This would also will be the first time tonight for you. The ringing of the bell intensified with every thrust.

Clutching at his black button-up shirt, now stained with your tears of pleasure and a bit of drool. As you finally started to find your own release, the lewd squelching sounds were present in the room. Moans and soft gasps were all that could be heard from the two of you alongside the whispered of encourage he would speak into your ear.

You’re doing so good.

Taking me so well.

With every second that passed by, the closer your climax was. It was a close call though seconds apart, but you were the first one. Squirting on his cock with some of it dripping down to his pants as it spilled out of you. Then he came inside of you, shooting his load deep inside. Filling you up to the brim, hoping that with this your Christmas wish would come true in the next 9 months.

He caressed your back as he pulled you off him, sitting you back on his lap. Soaked by your arousal, luckily his pants were black.

“Best gift ever.” he simply said as he smiled, looking at your face that rested on his shoulder in exhaustion. Ringing the bell on your chest with his slender fingers, once again.

You sat on his lap, your legs tucked to one side, cradled securely by his strong arm wrapped around your waist. His other hand rested lightly on your thigh, his thumb brushing idle patterns your soft skin. Your head rested against his shoulder, and his faint scent surrounded you into the present. Viktor’s heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, and the rise and fall of his chest matched your own.

"You’re quiet," he murmured, his voice soft and slightly raspy. "Are you alright, my love?"

You tilted your head to look up at him, his amber eyes meeting yours with a mix of concern and adoration. "I’m fine," you whispered, your lips curving into a small smile. "Just...happy."

A rare, genuine smile tugged at Viktor’s lips, and his hand moved to cup your cheek, his fingers gentle and warm. "Good," he said simply, but the weight behind the word spoke volumes.

His eyes studied you, his gaze lingering on the faint flush of your cheeks and the way your lashes fluttered as you looked at him. "You take such good care of me," he continued, his tone tinged with both gratitude and guilt.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, and his expression softened further. Viktor’s hand slid from your cheek to your back, pulling you closer until your foreheads rested together. The warmth of his breath mingled with yours, and you closed your eyes, letting the world outside the lab fade away.

"Stay like this a little longer," he whispered, his voice a gentle plea.

"I’m not going anywhere," you promised, your hand finding its way to his chest, where you felt the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

His lips brushed your temple in a featherlight kiss, and you felt him relax further beneath you, his body molding against yours as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle. For a man who often carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, you holding him close to your heart, was the best gift you could ask for.

taglist. @simsaelies @urboylys @nanamea @luneariaa @minagrayson @aliives @jinxsfavoritepookie @gxrextxgaidk @anna1-1 @bl-0-ndi-3

[hsnlv]

caught in the act (of falling) | y.jw

req!: jungwon with fake dating trope (and like he wants to make it a real relationship or smth like that)

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader

synopsis: what started as a fake dating scheme to fend off jungwon’s ex turns into stolen kisses, lingering touches, and feelings neither of you expected. when “pretend” starts to feel a little too real, jungwon’s flustered confession might just change everything.

warnings/others: fake dating trope!, cute flustered jungwon🤭, jungwon’s ex is obsessive (i would be too if i were one actually)

w/c: 1.07k

here’s my masterlist!

you honestly can’t figure out how you and jungwon ended up here—tangled in each other’s arms in his room, no one around but the two of you. his chest is warm against your back, his chin perched lazily on your shoulder, and his hands are wrapped around yours, helping hold the comic you’re both supposed to be reading. except neither of you is paying attention. how could you, when you can feel his breath tickling your neck every time he exhales?

this whole thing started as a joke—or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. jungwon’s ex had been haunting him like a particularly clingy ghost, and out of sheer desperation, he asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend. fake dating, he called it. to drive her away.

at first, you thought he was out of his mind.

<<<<<<<<<<<<

“jungwon, have you completely lost it?” you whisper-shouted, darting nervous glances at his ex, who was seated way too close to your table in the cafeteria. her glare was sharp enough to cut through steel. “she’s going to end me.”

“she’s not going to end you,” jungwon whispered back, though his tone wasn’t exactly convincing. “look, it’s a foolproof plan. a few hugs, maybe hold hands—just when she’s around! it’ll be fine.”

“fine? jungwon, she’s been staring at me like i ran over her cat.”

he winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “okay, fair. but you’ll be doing me the biggest favor ever. i’ll owe you one. please?”

you crossed your arms. “and what exactly does fake dating involve? because i swear if this gets weird—”

“it won’t!” he exclaimed quickly, his face scrunching up in that stupidly cute way that made you want to throttle him and pinch his cheeks at the same time. “just little stuff. harmless things. like holding hands. maybe linking arms. y’know, couple things.”

you eyed him warily. “define ‘couple things.’”

<<<<<<<<<

“couple things” turned out to be… a lot. jungwon, in his infinite wisdom, decided you both needed to “practice” being a convincing couple. this involved a series of increasingly absurd activities that had you questioning his sanity—and yours for agreeing to any of it.

“okay,” jungwon said one afternoon, pacing in front of you like a drill sergeant. “let’s practice nicknames. couples always have nicknames.”

“we already have nicknames,” you pointed out. “you call me by my name, and i call you uwon to annoy you.”

“no, no, no.” he waved his hand dramatically. “those aren’t cute nicknames. i mean things like ‘baby,’ or ‘sweetheart,’ or… or ‘honeybuns.’”

you nearly choked. “honeybuns? jungwon, if you call me honeybuns in public, i will personally make sure your life is a living nightmare.”

“noted,” he said with a laugh. “okay, let’s keep it simple. i’ll call you… babe. and you can call me—”

“uwon,” you interrupted, grinning. “i’m sticking with uwon.”

he sighed but didn’t argue. “fine. but we still need to work on PDA. let’s practice holding hands.”

you raised an eyebrow. “jungwon, we’ve held hands before.”

“yeah, but not like this,” he said, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. his grip was warm and secure, and he gave your hand a small squeeze. “see? it’s all about the squeeze. it makes it look more real.”

“this is ridiculous,” you muttered, though your cheeks felt suspiciously warm.

<<<<<<<<<<<<

present.

weeks passed, and jungwon’s ex finally got the message. her death stares became less frequent until she eventually stopped showing up altogether. mission accomplished. but the fake dating didn’t stop.

“uwon,” you call softly, the nickname slipping out naturally as you shift in his arms. he hums, his chin still resting on your shoulder, but his hold on you tightens slightly.

you put the comic down and turn to face him, his hands automatically settling on your waist like it’s second nature. “what are we doing?” you ask, your tone light but pointed.

he blinks at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. “reading?”

you sigh, rolling your eyes. “not the comic. this.” you gesture between the two of you. “what is this, jungwon? because i’m pretty sure your ex isn’t spying on us anymore.”

jungwon freezes, his eyes darting away like he’s suddenly very interested in the corner of his room. “uh… practice?” he says weakly.

“practice for what?” you press, crossing your arms. “you said the whole point was to convince your ex. but she’s gone now. so why are we still… doing this?”

he scratches the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “well, you know… just in case.”

“just in case of what?” you shoot back, leaning in slightly. “jungwon, are you hiding something?”

his face flushes, his mouth opening and closing like he’s searching for an excuse and coming up empty. finally, he blurts out, “okay, fine! i like you, alright?”

your brain short-circuits. “you… what?”

jungwon immediately panics, his hands flailing as he starts to babble. “oh my god, i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to just—i mean, i did, but not like this! and i totally get it if you don’t like me back, but—oh no, wait, please like me? or don’t? no, wait, maybe you could? or we could just pretend this never happened? or—”

“jungwon,” you interrupt, your voice sharp enough to cut through his spiral.

“yes?” he squeaks, his wide eyes meeting yours.

instead of answering, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him into a kiss. he freezes for a split second before melting against you, his lips moving softly against yours. the kiss deepens, and his eagerness makes you giggle into his mouth, causing him to pull back slightly, breathless.

“what’s so funny?” he asks, pouting.

“you,” you tease, your fingers still gripping his shirt. “you’re way too eager.”

his cheeks flush, but he doesn’t back down. instead, he grins mischievously and suddenly hovers over you, gently pushing you onto your back. “you stole a kiss from me,” he says, his voice low and playful, “so now you’re stuck with me. forever.”

before you can respond, he leans down and captures your lips again, this time with more confidence. his hands cradle your face, and the weight of him above you is both grounding and electrifying. when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his smile soft but radiant.

“so…” he whispers, his tone teasing, “can we drop the ‘fake’ part now?”

you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “yeah, i think we can.”

[multific]

The One He Writes To

Johnny MacTavish x Reader

Summary: You were only meant to write one letter. A gesture of support. But when Soap writes back, it begins a chain of letters.

You never thought anyone would read it.

The paper felt too clean. The words are too stiff.

But you wrote it anyway, one letter, addressed “To any soldier who needs it”

You wrote about the sky that day. The rain on your window. You thanked them for their service. You told them, whoever they were, that you hoped they were safe. And then you signed it.

Sincerely,

Someone who still believes in letters.

You never expected a reply.

Until one arrived a month later.

Dear ‘Someone,’

Didn’t expect a letter like that, not gonna lie. Most mail we get is dull as shite, but yours made me laugh. Real rain-on-the-glass kind of stuff. I liked it. Made things feel a bit more real. Anyway. My name’s John, but everyone calls me Soap. No, I won’t explain why. That’s classified.

Write back? It’s quiet as hell out here when the bullets stop flying.

Yours (sorta),

Soap.

That was how it began.

One letter turned into two. Then three. Then dozens.

You never even saw his face, he never sent a photo, but his handwriting became something sacred. The sharp angles.

The occasional smudge from a dusty glove.

The way he always signed off: “Yours.” Sometimes “Yours, always.”

He was funny. Witty. Crude in places.

But sometimes, something deeper slipped through. Memories of home. Things he’d lost.

The way he’d describe the sky over foreign mountains like it was poetry, even if he claimed he was shit at writing.

And over time, you started writing about yourself too.

The real things. The ache of being alone. Your fears. Your dreams. Your secrets. And he listened, even through ink and distance.

And then… the letters stopped.

A week went by. Then two. Then five.

You checked the mailbox obsessively, fingers trembling every time it was empty.

You told yourself he was fine. That maybe the base moved. That maybe mail was delayed.

But there was a part of you that wondered if he’d died.

If your last letter, the one where you wrote “I think I might be falling for you” in shaky script, had never made it.

It had been two months.

You were on your porch one late afternoon, arms wrapped around yourself, rereading his last letter.

The sky was gray. Your chest felt empty.

And then you heard it.

Boots on gravel.

And there he was.

Soaked in rain. Hair shorter than you'd imagined. A duffel on his shoulder. Drenched, exhausted, and very much alive.

You dropped the letter.

He didn’t say a word at first.

You barely breathed. “J-John?”

A flicker of relief crossed his face. He nodded, once. “It’s me.”

You ran to him before he could say more, arms flying around his shoulders as he dropped the bag and caught you. You were crying. He was shaking.

“I thought y-you…” you choked.

“I didn’t,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him.

To really see him. His eyes were tired but they lit up when he saw you.

“I got shot,” he said quietly. “So, I couldn’t write. Thought about it every day, about you.”

You touched his face, breathless. “I d-didn’t even know w-what you looked like.”

He gave you a soft, crooked smile. “Disappointed?”

You laughed through tears. “N-no. Never.”

His hand found your waist, gentle. “You said in your last letter that you were falling for me.”

You nodded, afraid to speak.

“I fell too,” he whispered. “Months ago.”

He kissed you before you could reply.

It was slow. Real. The kind of kiss you only give someone who knows your soul before your face.

When he pulled back, you were smiling.

He brushed your cheek with a calloused thumb. “Write me again?”

You took his hand and pressed it to your heart.

“Stay,” you said softly. “And I’ll say the words in person from now on.”

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[lovelettersfromluna]

Dream Girl

Summary: Did you seriously think you’d be able to get over someone like Ellie Williams? Think again, dream girl.

an: I’m so obsessed with this series and the portrayal of Ellie, there’s just something about a small town romance that scratches the sweet spot in my brain. I hope you guys have enjoyed this one just as much as I have! Thank you so much for all of the support 🤍

Warnings: smut! MDNI!! 18+, tribbing (another tribbing fic by Luna?? Ofc do you not know me by now?), lots of kissing, sub!ellie if you squint, angst, mentions of another love interest, mentions of cheating, reader sucks Ellie’s fingers, pet names, unsure and closed off reader, pls lmk if I missed anything!

Read part 1 here!!

You watched from your bed as the gentle wind blew your lace curtains further into your bedroom, the birds chirping as the early morning sun slowly rose, cascading a warm glow into your room, making you squint your sore eyes with a soft groan.

With the slow rise of the sun came the constant reminder that you’d spent yet another night without catching a wink of sleep, lying there as you allowed your thoughts to carry you to places you wished didn’t exist.

Places of your ex wife, the bitter taste of your marriage still lingering on your tongue, reminding you of everything that could have been, everything that was lost due to lust.

Places of Ellie, the person who stole your heart first. You think of everything that could have changed had you not gone to the city, how your life's outcome would have had such a great shift due to one tiny change within the line of events that made up who you were, and what you did with your life.

It all leaves the whole in your heart feeling bigger, wider, swallowing up so much of the tiny organ that it almost felt there was nothing left of it.

It had been only a few days since the last time you saw Ellie, and the memories of that night still lingering in you brain, hanging heavily in your mind, stopping you from focusing on anything but that.

Because as much it felt good to kiss her, you haven't even been divorced for a year, and the conflicting feelings that you had for Ellie, paired with the newfound distrust and heartbreak that came from your recent marriage caused a storm in your head, heavy clouds swirling about in the confides of your mind and making it heard to think, hard to breath.

It was all just too fucking hard.

But you knew life was different now. You weren't a teenage girl that could run from confrontations for her own comfort. You were a grown up now, experiencing grown up situations that called for grown up reactions. So you knew that you needed to talk to Ellie, no matter how much it hurt to even think about facing her right now.

You weren’t even entirely sure where to start. Texting her was an absolute no, despite how much easier it would be to confront her that way, behind a screen would do a great job at cushioning the blow that came with confronting Ellie. Calling fell under the same category, she deserved much more than a measly phone call from your end with the intention of patching things up.

Which left only one option. You had to see her in person.

You sighed softly as you sat up in your bed, looking over at your phone resting face down on your bedside table. You hadn’t touched it since that night, avoiding the device all together in fear that you’d see any messages or calls from the worried girl.

So you aren’t surprised when you finally pick it up to see just that. Ellie didn’t pry, there were about three phone calls and four messages, all of which came across far too understanding and supportive for someone that had been kicked out mid make out session a few nights prior.

You inhale deeply before you open up your messages with her, and begin typing.

Hi

I’m sorry I haven’t responded.

Are you busy today? Can we meet up? I feel we need to talk

You practically hold your breath until she responds, which doesn’t take a very long time because the minute you send your first message, she’s read it and already typing out her message back.

Hey, don’t apologize. I was just worried about you

Ofc we can meet. Farmers market is opened today, you wanna check it out?

You don’t even realize it, but her messages are making you smile the second you read them out. Probably because of how easy Ellie makes things, how hard it is to make things awkward with someone as kind as she is.

That sounds great.

I’ll meet you there

Cool :)

Despite the small amount of anxiety that has alleviated when you’re finished texting her, you know this is only the beginning, the easy part of a conversation that will be much harder to have, much harder to explain when you aren’t even sure how to navigate your feelings as it is.

But there was no use in putting it off any further, so you’re quick to get out of bed, brush your teeth, haul on a pair of old blue jeans and an old band t-shirt and make your way out to your car to meet Ellie in town.

It’s almost impossible to have a sour mood in a place as magical as your little town. The moment you got into your car, the warm sun soaking into your skin made you take a deep breath, allowing yourself to clear your head for a second before making your way out into town.

Your mom was right, the sun can cure more than you thought.

You hadn’t even realized it was Sunday, which meant it was your towns tradition to hold the farmers market in the town center. You used to look forward to it so much as a kid, knowing it would bring out the best of the people that lived here, showcasing the talent every person had.

Some people sold clothes that they made by hand, pieces that could only be made with love and care, something you often missed seeing in the city. Others sold jewelry, so delicately crafted it was almost unbelievable that someone was able to create something like it.

But your favorite? Was the food. Different pastries baked by the hands of men and women, recipes passed on from generation to generation to continue to breath life into the traditions that made up your town, tying one another together with a single cake or pie.

It was almost like magic.

You catch yourself smiling as you walk down the strip of stands already getting into their sales. Your heart warms at the sight of familiar faces, aged but still happy. You notice new ones as well, like when you approach a stand you remember being up when you were kid, one of which sold your favorite sweet rolls.

Your attention is far too occupied with chatting up the familiar curly haired girl at the stand, the same one that your visit when you were a teenager, eager to her mothers famous pastures. You’re surprised to see that there’s now a baby on her hip sporting the same head of spiral chocolate brown locks sprouting from her head, giggling and kicking excitedly as you introduce yourself, grabbing the babies hands as you catch your with her mom.

Ellie had arrived not long after you, standing nearby as she smiles fondly at the way the baby quickly becomes enamored with you. Watching you play with kids was something that always made her heart flutter with joy.

You giggle softly as she hands you both pastries, giving her a nod as she begs you to come visit her and the sweet baby more often. You hum softly as you struggle to push both your receipt and your phone back into your purse, groaning softly to yourself as you fail to notice the sudden looming presence that falls over the, gentle hands opening your bag wider as they aid you in putting everything away.

“Here, lemme help you” Ellie breaths out gently, her voice alone making you freeze as your eyes trail to her body to land on her face that was suddenly very close to yours.

She chuckles when she notices you staring up at her with wide eyes, nodding her head down to your bag.

“Come on now, would hate to make you drop those” she hums as she mentions the pastries in your other hand. You blink a few times before you clear your throat, giving a quick nod before you push your things into your bag with her help.

“Fuck…sorry…I…um…” you struggle to speak, adjusting your bag on your shoulders as you watch the girl step back with a soft smile.

“No worries, you alright?” She questions, neck craning down a bit to get a good look at you, her own big green eyes staring into yours, making it hard to breath.

God, this was going to be much harder than you thought.

You inhaled deeply, opening your mouth to speak before closing it, looking down at the sweet rolls in your hand before outstretching your arm to hand one to her.

“I bought this for you…I figured you hadn’t eaten yet so…” you mumble out softly, watching as she stared at you for a moment before looking down at the perfectly packaged baked good in your hand.

Her heart warming at the mere thought of you thinking of her in that way.

She smiles softly before she nods, placing her hand on the small of your back as she began guiding you out of the small strip of stands.

“So sweet of you…c’mon, there’s some places to sit right up this way” she suggests, giving you a small reassuring smile as she leads you there.

Somehow it seems perfect. The sun, the birds chirping, the little shady spot that Ellie leads you over to, covered by the biggest tree with the prettiest flowers slowly drifting down from above. It’s truly something out of a dream….

It made you wish this was all a dream.

You let out a soft sigh as you sit opposite of Ellie on the wooden bench, your fingers toying with the paper the pastry in front of you is wrapped in. Ellie frowns as she watches you closely, knowing the expression far too well. She could see just how much you were in your own head, how the events you two shared prior lingered in your mind, making it hard to focus on anything.

You couldn’t even look at her, and she hated that.

She inhaled deeply before she reached a hand out, gently placing it atop yours.

“I hope you didn’t bring me out here to apologize…because you don’t have to” her words are soft, and sweet, and it makes your throat get tight because she shouldn’t be so kind to you after what you did, after the way you treated her.

You don’t respond, so she takes the opportunity to keep talking.

“I get that things are probably hard…and I shouldn’t even have kissed you that night…so I’m sorry” she tries again, and you scoff softly before shaking your head.

“Don’t…don’t apologize” you mumble out before you inhale deeply, finally looking up, only not at her, at the scenery around you both.

“I caught her in our bed, with some girl she worked with” you mumble out softly, fingers mindlessly running along the rough surface of the wooden table.

“I probably should have seen it coming….but I think I wanted things to work out so badly that I just ignored it” you shrug slightly as you explain before you finally look over at Ellie, who’s already staring intently as she listens to you.

“Ellie I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, or to think that I’m using my divorce as an excuse for what I did, for what happened between us….but I just need you to know that I’m hurting, and it’s just….hard for me to open myself up to something like that again after what happened” your voice breaks as your emotions threaten to give you away, chin wobbling as tears pool in your eyes.

But you don’t let them flow free. You don’t want to cry anymore, not over this.

“I…I just need time….” You silently beg, beg for her to understand what it is you’re going through, what it is you’re experiencing.

It scares you when she doesn’t answer right away, her green eyes scanning your face as she takes it all in. It’s a lot, and you know that, but there’s a tiny part of you that begs for Ellie to do what she does best, which is tell you exactly what you need to hear.

She blinks a few times before giving you a nod, paired with a soft smile. “You don’t even have to ask….you know I’d understand no matter what”

You inhale deeply as you watch her, her gentle eyes, her soft smile telling you that all would be fine. It make your stomach churn because you feel like you don’t deserve it, you feel like she deserves so much more than what you’re giving her.

You two haven’t even addressed what actually happened that night.

There’s nothing more to do than to simply smile back at her. It’s weak, and it isn’t much, but it’s all you can mange right now.

Ellie smiles softly at you before she looks down at the rolls in front of you both. “As good of a baker that Mary Beth is….i think we need some real food” Ellie hums out softly before she swings her leg over the bench to get up, nodding her head towards a small diner nearby.

“Come on. Let’s get something to eat” she suggests, holding her hand out for yours.

She notices the way your eyes linger on her calloused hand, unsure of whether or not you should take it, unsure of what signals it would send if you did.

You were unsure of everything. Unsure of Ellie, yourself, your own feelings. Nothing felt solid enough to trust, and you hated that someone like Ellie could make you feel that way, even though you knew that it wasn’t her that was making you feel that way, but rather what happened to you instead.

She can see it, she can see right through you and for a moment her frown mimics yours before she it turns into a soft smile.

“As friends” she affirms gently.

She sees a flash of something ripple through your eyes at this when you finally look up at her, something she doesn’t want to read too much into, something that she knows she can’t dive into for your own comfort, and perhaps even hers too.

A moment passes before you crack a weak smile, placing your hand into hers before you nod. “Yeah…as friends” you manage to make out weakly before grabbing the things off the table, shoving them into your bag and leaning into Ellie’s warmth as she guides you to the diner.

Ignoring the bitter taste left on your tongue at the way Ellie assured you that she was your friend, and nothing more.

Your mind was in absolute shambles.

It had been a few weeks since the farmers market with Ellie, and truthfully all had been well between the two of you. You both ate together, talked, laughed, you were even able to talk about your divorce, explaining to Ellie how you felt, what it had done to you, and she listened to it all, nodding along to your words, giving you the advice you didn’t want to hear, but very much needed. For a moment it was easy to forget all about the tension that had settled between you both, the thoughts that plagued you were finally silenced as you allowed yourself to just simply be.

That was until you got home.

The second you were in your bedroom, lying there, staring up at the ceiling, memories of that night began to flood into your mind. You could feel it all so clearly, Ellie’s hands on your body, her lips pressed against your mouth, gasping for air, her tongue sliding against your own. Her words echoed throughout your mind, desperate pants and moans of how she needed you, of how you needed her.

You couldn’t sleep a wink.

It felt as though you hadn’t even talked to her, as if things hadn’t glossed over to where they were okay, a point where things were fine between you both. They were, but the feelings you had were still there. You thought that if you had at least talked to Ellie, explained to her what you were feeling, it would give you a head start on where to go with sorting out your own feelings.

None of that ever came.

Your body yearned for a moment of peace from the issues at hand, you wanted to feel the same way you felt when you were sat at the diner with Ellie, her laugh and her sparkling smile distracting you from the things you were feeling.

But you knew you couldn’t turn to her for a distraction, you couldn’t use her to occupy your mind from facing things that you’d much rather ignore. That wasn’t fair to her and it would only hurt you further in the long run, lengthen the grieving process of the death of your marriage.

You couldn’t do that to Ellie.

You could however, go somewhere that you knew would clear your mind the moment you were there.

The low hum of your car engine shuts off as you pull up to the familiar clearing, a gentle smile on your face as you can already hear the gentle stream of the water the moment you’re stepping out of the car.

The old creek was one everyone in your town treasured, a tiny glimpse of paradise in the confides of your backyard. It was where all the seniors would go for senior skip day, and where families would visit to spend the day with their children. If there was any place that the people of your town would be during the summertime, it would be the creek.

And rightfully so, the waters sparkled like nothing you’d ever seen before, the shady trees hiding the spot away like a secret that belonged to you and only you. You had many fond memories of the place, ones with your family, your siblings, your old friends from school.

Ellie.

You and her would visit the spot any chance you got, diving into the cold water the moment you were there. You could recall the moment you two first found out, thinking it was a secret only you two shared, just to find out your parents had been visiting when they were your age as well.

Regardless of the fact that it didn’t belong to you two, it felt like it. A small piece of the world that you and Ellie could call your own, sharing secrets there with one another, Ellie pushing you off the old swing tied up to one of the trees before she swung in soon after, diving in and holding you close to her chest as she promised you’d be together forever, for as long as you both lived.

The intensity that you both shared as teenagers often made you laugh. What a silly thing for two teenage girls to say who have barely experienced the world out there.

You let out a gentle sigh as you rugged off your denim shorts after setting your spot up. A small blanket settled down with your bag, your old camera and a few books, clearly having every intention of staying the entire day, swimming to your hearts content.

Once you’re stripped of your clothes, your body only clad in your old bathing suit, you waste no time in making your way down to the water, shivering slightly once your toes hit the cold water, wiggling them in the process.

You’re convinced swimming in the small body of water has to have some sort of mystical healing properties, because the moment you’re diving your head under, eyes examining the aquamarine world that is below the surface, your mind is clear. It makes you feel like you could live there, swimming amongst the different underwater caverns and the fish, creating a whole new world below as the little mermaid you always dreamed to be.

Your mother always told you she thought she’d given birth to a little fish when your father first took you swimming.

It’s so easy to lose track of time when you’re like this, floating around in the water, letting its coldness wrap you up and swallow you whole. It’s almost comforting how quiet it is, the only sounds being the gentle stream of the water, the wind rustling against the tree leaves and the frequent sound of the birds chirping to let you know that you weren’t alone, letting you know they were there with you.

You don’t even realize it but you’ve spent hours swimming about in the small pond, the grumbling in your stomach finally stops you for a moment to actually think about anything other than swimming, forcing you out to lay out onto your blanket and dry in the sun, occasionally popping the sweet berries into your mouth you’d brought from home.

The book you’ve brought with you also silences the outside world, allowing you to flip from page to page without thinking of anything but the regal characters that seemingly had much more to worry about than you. What a world it would be to wear uncomfortable dresses and attend balls in the hopes you’d find the perfect husband.

What would they think of your divorce?

It makes you snort to yourself, a gentle hum leaving your lips as you flip another page, unaware of the sudden sound of feet crunching against the grass slowly approaching you.

The high pitched sound of your name being called rips your attention away from your book, furrowing your eyebrows a bit as you cup your hand above your eyes to shield from the sun, trying to get a good look at who it was that was disturbing your peace.

“I didn’t think I’d be seein’ you here! What a surprise!” Lilac chirps out, her curly hair tied up into a perfectly styled bun, tight coils framing her face as she clutches her towel to her chest.

You hadn’t seen her since the night Ellie took you out to the Copper Cat a few weeks ago, the girl not lingering on your mind much as you had much bigger fish to fry. You were honestly a bit shocked that she’d even remembered your name.

You give her a gentle smile as you sit up, your legs folding to cross one another as you give her a small smile.

“Good to see you Lilac….going for a swim?” You ask her, watching as the girl takes the spot right next to yours, her blanket fitting perfectly up against your own as she gives you a confident nod.

“Mhm! It’s too hot…bless Ellie’s heart for sharin’ this place with me. Don’t know what I’d do without it” she chirps out as she tugs her own denim shorts off, leaning her in the cutest little bikini.

You know she doesn’t mean it in the way that it sounds, bragging about being introduced to the small clearing by your ex girlfriend, and you knew that it was only in due time that this place was mentioned to her by someone in your town, making sense that Ellie would do it first since that’s just the kind of girl Ellie was.

But there’s just something that tugs at your heart at the thought of it all. Ellie mentioning this place to her, the two of them coming down together, alone, Lilac adorned in another one of those adorable bikinis she had to show off to Ellie her gorgeous body as they play in the water together.

Something about Ellie sharing the spot you two shared with someone else that just rubbed you the wrong way.

You inhale deeply, trying to calm your nerves as you remember that this girl owes you nothing, Ellie owes you nothing and Lilac has been nothing but kind to you from the moment she met you.

Giving her a gentle smile as she settles down next to you, you nod. “It’s pretty great out here…I’m surprised it isn’t so packed. Seems we got lucky” you give her a nod before you sigh, turning your attention back to your book.

She smiles fondly as she watches you turn your attention back to your book, her neck craning down a bit to get a good look at the cover, gasping softly once she realized what it was you were reading.

“You read those too? I love them! I just finished the first two” she beams, a soft hum leaving your lips as you look up at the girl, raising your eyebrows at her comment.

“Really? Most people think they’re super corny” you pout softly as you turn the book over to look at the cliche cover, which only earns a firm head shake from Lilac.

“Honey I’m a hopeless romantic, I daydream more than I actually try talking to people” she giggles out softly, giving you a gentle shrug.

Her words make you chuckle softly, gently closing your book as you toss it to the side before sitting up to mirror her posture, crossing your legs as you suddenly give her your full attention.

“You’re a hopeless romantic? But…Lilac you’re gorgeous. I wouldn’t be shocked if you have every single guy here desperate to get a chance with you” you confess, which only makes her shake her head as she gives you a shy smile, gently shoving your knee.

“Don’t you dare! I’m awful at talking to people” she pouts out, her eyes dropping from her own as she stares down at the flowers on her blanket, delicate fingers tracing the patterns gently as she lets out a gentle sigh.

“If I’m being honest…it’s not the guys here that I want…” her words trail off softly, and it makes you pout softly as you eye the girl, seeing how whatever is on her mind is clearly bothering her, plaguing the girl just as much as what was on your mind.

You open your mouth to ask her about it, feeling bad about whatever she was going through, but she’s quick to shake her head and put on a bright smile once she looks back into your eyes. “But let’s not get into that! M’glad you’re here to join me today” she breaths out, her voice sweet and genuine as her eyes soften.

And it makes your heart rate finally slow down, seeing just how genuine the girl seemed, how happy she was to be there with you regardless of the fact that you were as good as a stranger to her than anything more.

You smile softly as you nod, leaning forward and placing your hand on hers, giving a gentle squeeze. “Don’t mention it, Lilac” you hum out softly.

If there was anything you didn’t expect to do today, it was to have made a new friend, especially one in Lilac. The two of you spent the entire day down at the creek, laughing together, swimming together. The more time you spent with her, the more you realized just how much in common the both of you had.

Being completely honest with yourself, she had more kindness in her pinky than anyone in the city ever did.

The sun has set, and the breeze blew against your warm skin as you leaned against your car, Lilac in front of you as she made yet another joke that had you throwing your head back as you let out a loud laugh.

“Stop I feel the same way! I always wondered what happened to him” you gasp out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you lean back to shove your back into the passenger seat of your car. Lilac giggles softly as she nods, her arms crossed over her chest as she swatted away the mosquitos slowly began to swarm around you both.

“He’s still an idiot, some people never change I fear” she groaned out, a prominent pout on her perfect lips before she cocked her head to the side, smiling fondly at you.

“Ellie was right about you, you know? You really are somethin’ special” she breaths out, and it has your eyes going wide at the mention of the girl. It makes you realize that you hadn’t thought about her all day, not since Lilac had joined you.

It makes you wonder what other things Ellie had said about you.

You whine softly as you bring your hand forward to nudge her playfully. “Shut up….you’ll blow my head up” you warn the girl playfully before you sigh softly, looking over at the sun that was slowly bur surly setting, the once warm glow that casted onto you both disappearing.

“Ahh I should get going…we shouldn’t be on the roads too late” you breath out softly, turning towards the girl and giving her a small smile, only to see a sad one on her face.

You frown softly as you watch her, leaning forward and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Hey? You okay?” You ask gently, suddenly worried about the girls shift in her mood.

She lets out a gentle sigh before she looks down at her feet, kicking around the gravel below before she lets out a soft hum. “I know we don’t know each other well…but…I feel like you’ll be my only help with this” she admits to you, her eyes still casted downwards before you assure her with a soft voice. “Of course you can..” you mumble out softly.

She finally looks up at you, taking a deep inhale before she gives you a half smile. “I…think I like Ellie” she breaths out, as if she’d been keeping it held in for so long, as if finally telling you was letting a weight off of her shoulders.

Letting it off of hers and slamming it down onto yours.

You find it hard to breathe, because suddenly you’re shot back to the first night you met Lilac at the Copper Cat. Ellie’s hand on her waist, hers on Ellie’s arm as she whispers in her ear, the two of them matching one another far more than you felt you could’ve ever matched Ellie. You feel threatened, and it sets a fire off in your chest, and you feel like the world is crumbling around you as this beautiful girl admits her innocent feelings for your ex girlfriend.

When you don’t speak, she continues.

“And I just…you and her are so close, so I was hoping maybe you could give me some advice? Should I go for it? Do you…think she’d like me back?” She asks hopefully, twiddling with her fingers nervously as she watches you closely, awaiting your response.

You stare are her blankly, your body working on autopilot as you try to work your way through this. Seeing her that night felt like it might’ve all been in your head, especially when Ellie ran out after you and left the moment you were ready, but now this is all real. This is Lilac confirming that what you felt was real, and this was the reality of coming back to your hometown, more specifically your ex girlfriend.

And as you stand there, trying to figure out what the hell to say to this girl, you can only see someone doing the same thing that you’re doing. She’s a young girl, looking for love in this crazy fucked up world, and she’s unsure of herself. Someone as beautiful as her is unsure of herself and you could only wish that someone would have guided you when you were pursuing your ex wife, a third party bystander giving their advice and helping you through it all.

Because as much as it kills you? Ellie deserves love, and so does Lilac, and if they find it in one another, who the hell are you to take that away from them.

The both of them owe you nothing.

You inhale deeply before giving her a soft smile, nodding as you reach out to give her arm a gentle, assuring squeeze. “I think Ellie would be thrilled to be with someone like you, Lilac….you should go for it” you breath out genuinely, watching as the girls face lights up with joy with your confirmation, an excited squeal leaving her lips.

“I was hoping you’d say that! You’re an angel” she squeals, reaching forward and grabbing you up into her arms as she gives you a tight hug, swaying back and forth as she tucks her chin into your shoulder.

You can practically feel the happiness radiating off of her.

You smile softly as you nod, wrapping your hands around her as you hug her back before you hum. “You didn’t need me…you’ll be great on your own” you assure her before you pull away, giving her a reassuring nod.

She smiles brightly as she nods before she lets out a loud sigh. “Right…get home safe, alright? And text me! We can hang out sometime this week” she sings out as she gets into her car, giving you a wave as she begins pulling off.

And suddenly you’re left there all alone, with the newfound thoughts that are swirling about in your head. You know already that you won’t be able to sleep, not with the mental image of the two of them dancing around in your mind, forcing you to face reality, face the facts that time moves on with or without you.

But you were tired of being left behind, you were tired of being the last one to know things, the one broken heart in a sea of mended ones.

Driving off in your car from the creek gives you time to think, the cool breeze kissing your skin, pushing your hair back as the radio plays your favorite songs, creating somewhat of a perfect scenario to think things over rather than running from them.

While it all hurts, you know that there’s no use in standing in the way of Lilac or Ellie or whoever for that matter. Life would continue moving, and in that meant new love would be found, for both you and Ellie, it just felt like that wouldn’t happen for you in the moment, even if you knew it would.

But you were going to move on from this. And you were going to be fine, no matter how long it took for you to catch up with the tracks of life that seemingly always got the best of you.

There’s something therapeutic about hanging up the laundry on the old clothes line in your backyard.

You used to make fun of your mom all the time when she did it, telling her that there was a perfectly good dryer inside that would take less than half the time to dry the clothes than they did outside, not to mention less work when it came to picking them in.

However as you’ve grown older, there’s something so simple about walking outside with your basket on your hip, the gentle smell of detergent blowing into your direction as you pin up several articles of clothing, your white sheets, anything that you’ve washed, that tickles your brain in the best ways.

That, and the fact that these days you’ll take any task to fill your brain with thoughts other than Ellie or your ex wife.

Things had been fine. You spoke to Ellie here and there, dropped dinner off at Joel’s house that you knew he made sure she got some of whenever you made extra, you even made time for Lilac within the week as well. You’d picked up a small job in town as well, working at the cashier of a small floral shop that had been in town from you could remember.

So although your mind drifted to places you didn’t often like, life was fine. Life was slow, and life was good.

Lilac constantly gushed to you about Ellie, talking about all the progress they’d been making, asking your opinion on the girls behavior, which you always tried your best to help with. Although the strange thing about it all, was you heard nothing from Ellie about the situation. She didn’t mention anything about Lilac, not even when you brought it up.

It wasn’t long until you began distancing yourself from the both of them, knowing how hard it would be once they became official and you had to live life in a world where they were together.

Because although you were doing okay, the wound was still fresh, and you had to keep your peace.

You hummed a gentle tune softly as you continued hanging up your linen on the line, enjoying the feeling of the cool summer breeze against your skin, the dandelions dancing along through the air as they became loose from their stems.

The sound of your fence creaking open cuts right into your thoughts of housework, forcing you to turn around as you hang up another one of your sleep shirts, a soft smile on your lips when you catch sight of the familiar tall brunette walking into your backyard, both her hands shoved into the pockets of her denim jeans.

“Ellie…didn’t think you were coming over” you sigh out softly as you clip the end of your shirt up, continuing to hang up your clothes regardless of her being there.

“Was in the neighborhood….I thought I’d stop by” she breaths out, eyes taking in your form as you continue with your chore.

Her voice seems like something is bothering her, and you catch onto it the second she utters her first syllable. You know already why she’s here, to question you about your sudden absence, wondering if things were okay with you or not, worry clear in her tone.

“You…haven’t been around lately” she mumbles out, that same worried tone laced throughout her words.

It was just as you suspected.

You frown, thanking the task of laundry that hides your expression from her. It’s so much easier to lie to Ellie whenever you’re not looking into her eyes.

“Oh…I’ve just been uh…dealing with some stuff” you’re quick with the excuse, clearing your throat before you turn around to give her a soft smile. “I’m fine…honest” you give her your best attempt at a reassuring nod before you turn back to your laundry.

You have to turn away from her quickly, because you can see from the small glimpses you get of her that she’s frowning, and her brows are furrowed together with something that’s bothering her.

You hope she’ll leave after you tell her you’re fine.

But she doesn’t. You don’t hear her respond to your words, or even turn around silently to go about her day. You hear nothing behind you, only the sound of your white sheets wafting through the wind, drying on the line before you.

You frown when you look down to see your basket is empty, and the task of pinning up your clothes is no longer present to hide you away from Ellie.

So you need to get rid of her.

You inhale deeply, picking up the old basket and placing it on your hip, putting your most believable smile on your face before turning around, finally locking eyes onto the girl to see something that makes your heart sink.

It looks like she hasn’t slept, prominent bags under her pretty eyes, pouty pink lips chapped, most likely picked and bit at out of anxiety, a bad habit you knew she had whenever something was bothering her. Your heart tugs at the image, wanting nothing more than to pull the girl down into a hug, consoling her and telling her that whatever was bothering her, would be fine.

But you can’t. Because things aren’t the same anymore.

You inhale deeply before you nod your head towards your back door. “Well…I have lots to do inside��more house work…dinner” you explain, trying your best to hint at Ellie leaving without having to say so.

“Did I do something wrong?” She finally makes out, her words a clear plea to understand the situation rather than a half mumble that she’d rather not say.

It makes you furrow your eyebrows, watching the girl with a confused look as you try to understand her.

“Wrong? Ellie…I’ve barely seen you. What could you have possibly done wrong?” You try, confused of the sudden outburst from the girl.

Her eyes are stormy, hazy and hard to read. Her brows are knit as she looks down at the floor before looking back into your eyes, a prominent frown on her face.

“Why would you tell Lilac that there’s something worth looking for between her and I…why would you…” her words trail off, as if she wants to say more, as if she wants to persist with knowing why you would have done such a thing.

And soon it all starts making sense.

You wish Lilac wouldn’t have said anything. You wish she wouldn’t have told Ellie that you were the one that told her to go for it, even if she was the one that asked in the first place. You wish she would have just pursued Ellie without any mention of you, because was that even necessary? You know she must have done it to gush about you even further, the girl becoming enamored with you from the moment she saw you, and even more so once you two became closer.

But for the love of god…did she really have to tell Ellie that you were the one to tell her to go for it?

You open your mouth to speak before you sigh softly, your hands squeezing the handles of your clothes basket before you speak. “I….she spent the day down at the creek with me and when we were about to leave she told me she liked you…and she asked me if I thought she should pursue you” you explain with a shrug of your shoulders, which only makes Ellie scoff in disbelief.

“And you told her that was a good idea?” She argues back, as if it were the dumbest thing you could have ever done. She says it as if it were common knowledge to tell the girl other wise, you raise your eyebrows when she says this.

“Yeah? Why not? Lilac is…she’s fucking gorgeous Ellie. Anyone would be lucky to have her, and you should be happy I put you on with someone as great as her” you mumble out as you slip past the girl, clearly done with Ellie and this conversation as you walked up the wooden steps leading to your back door.

But Ellie isn’t finished with you, because she’s quick to follow behind, closing the door behind you as you make your way into your laundry room to set your basket down, your hands going to your hips once you turn around to see the girls built figure standing in your doorway.

“Ellie come on…I have things to do…you need to go” you huff out as you slip past her once again, going off into your living room to start on the dried laundry that needed to be folded, hoping that the girl would simply drop it and leave.

“You know I understood you the night after the show, and I was more than willing to give you all of the space you need, but this feels like you’re playing some sick joke on me” she’s standing over you now, watching as you try to ignore her in favor of some pillow cases that needed folding.

“Is pushing me into the arms of someone else your solution? And ignoring me until I’ve forgotten all about it? Is that the plan? Is that seriously what you think it’ll take to get rid of me?” She tries again, her voice pleading with you at this point as she watches you ignore her.

But this time you done, your hands drop to your lap as you stare up at her in disbelief before you toss the pillow case to the side, standing up opposite of her.

“I never had a plan! Lilac asked me a question and I was honest with her. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be happy with someone else” you explain to her before you finally feel as though you’ve had enough, a huff of annoyance filling the silent air as you round the couch to slip away into the kitchen.

Before you’re fully there, Ellie’s voice is echoing off the walls.

“But I can’t be happy with someone else!” She shouts out, her arms flailing up inti the air before dropping down to her side, the sound of her palms slapping against her jeans before she sighs.

You stop dead in your tracks when you hear that one, your back still turned to her.

“How could I possibly be happy with anyone else when you’re all I fucking think about….” Her voice is tired, and it’s almost as if she’s begging you for something, something you are not capable of, something you cannot give.

Begging for you.

“From moment we had our first kiss….to the moment I said goodbye to you before you left for the city…I’ve only ever wanted you” you can hear her getting closer, slowly making her way towards you as you stand there at the edge of your kitchen, frozen, silent, unable to say anything to her as she confesses these things to you.

“It’s pathetic, and I’ve tried to suck it up for your sake because I know….you’re going through a tough time after that moron did what she did….but I can’t fucking hide anymore” she breaths out, and it sounds the same exact way that Lilac sounded when she admitted to you that she had feelings for Ellie those nights ago.

Your back is still turned to her, and you know she’s right behind you because her smell fills up your lungs and makes your eyes roll to the back of your head as you try to fight all of it back, everything that you’ve done, all that you’ve worked through from the moment you got home to get to the point that you were at currently.

But you feel all of it break the moment Ellie’s strong hand grips your shoulder gently, sighing softly as she speaks.

“Look at me….please angel…” she begs, her skin wafting onto your neck as she tries her best to fight the urge to grab you right then and there and kiss you.

When you finally turn around, her heart breaks, because the whites of your eyes are red, and there are heavy tears pooling at the edge of your eyes, making them sparkle in the warm light of your kitchen, looking so beautiful yet so tragic all in the same time.

Her chest tightens as she leans in to cup your cheek, fighting back the urge to groan as she inhales deeply. “I can’t…I don’t wanna pretend like I’m not still in love-“ you’re quick to cut her off, your tears spilling out onto her cheeks the moment you hear the word.

“Don’t…don’t say it” you warn her with shaky words, struggling to even speak with the burning sensation in your throat.

You don’t think you could handle it, hearing those words fall from someone’s lips again, the fear rising the moment they hang from Ellie’s, flashbacks of you’re wife at the alter, promising you everything and more before she kissed you and whispered in your ear that she loved you.

It’s scary, and it makes you feel terrified of Ellie.

Before she can carry on even further, trying her best to convince you that her words are true, silently begging you to hear her out as her wide green eyes stare down into yours, you’re cutting her off.

“I told you already Ellie…I’m not….i can’t do this again. I can’t give myself to someone like I did with her” your voice trembles as you explain, her vision blurring with tears as you try your best to swallow them all back.

She licks her lips as she stares down at you before she shakes her head. “I get it….I get that you’re hurting from what happened, but I can’t keep going on without you knowing anymore….” She starts to explain, both of her hands coming up to cup either side of your face, forcing you to look up at her.

“I’ve….god I’ve longed for you from the moment you left after high school. There was not a day that went by where I did not think of you for even a few seconds. And I’m sorry for what happened, and I understand if I’m just a childhood fling for you, but I’d rather you tell me that then try to push someone else onto me to distract me from what I’ve felt all these years” she rambles on, nearly stumbling over her words as they all bubble up to the surface, overflowing and dragging you down with her.

You open your mouth for a moment before closing it, looking far too similar to a fish out of water as you try to find the words to say. What are you even supposed to say? Are you supposed to lie to her? Tell her that you haven’t felt the same way? But now it’s different and it hurts to even try to envision yourself in a relationship with someone let alone pursue them? Even when it’s Ellie?

Your Ellie?

She watches as you struggle to speak, her eyes searching yours for even a sliver of hope that this will work, that her confession will bring you to a point where you can both meet, where things can be okay again.

And if they can’t? She needs to hear you say it out loud.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same” she deadpans, hands dropping from your face as any hope she might have had slowly drains out, fizzling out of her system as she watches you simply stare up at her, a mere shell of the girl she once knew.

“Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll never bring this up again. We can move on from this and we can be friends. I promise” she breaths out, feeling the air slowly leaving her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

You feel the exact same way. You feel like the world has stopped around you both as images of your life swirls around your head.

There’s images of your ex wife, taking the privilege of love from you, ripping your heart out of your chest and walking away with it the moment she decided to cheat on you. It hurts, and it burns and it feels like something you’ll never recover from, something that leaves a wound so deep, that it will never grow the familiar leathery skin that it’s supposed to, creating a scar that acts as merely a memory for what happened, for what you endured.

And then there’s something sweeter in the corner, so small that if you pay enough attention to the hurt in your heart, you don’t even notice it.

It’s memories of Ellie. Sharing your first kiss with her, going to prom with her, spending late nights with her in your bedroom talking about the future, spending time with one another that will leave sweet memories in your mind till the day you die. It’s soft, and it’s easy and it makes your insides flutter with excitement at the mere thought of her by your side.

As you’re looking over all these parts of you, standing in your kitchen with Ellie and staring up into her eyes, you make a remarkable discovery.

You realize that if you try hard enough, the pain that comes from what your ex wife did doesn’t hurt as bad, long as you’re focusing on the feeling that Ellie gives you.

Because when you’re with Ellie, you feel nothing but love.

You lick your own lips as you stare up at her, inhaling deeply before you shake your head, feeling your throat burn with tears before you speak.

“I can’t do that….” Your words trail off for a moment before your eyes drift down to her strong hands, missing the feeling of her skin pressed against yours.

You slowly reach forward to take her tattooed hand into yours, your fingers dancing along the intricate details of the leaves on her wrist before you interlock your fingers, finally looking up at her as your eyes well up with tears for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“Because I….feel the same way” you breath out, watching as her sage colored eyes glimmer with happiness, a gentle sigh of relief leaving her lips as she quickly moves her hand to cup your face, her other reaching down to hold onto your waist, pulling you close to her body.

“Jesus…c’mere” she practically moans out before she smashes her lips against yours in a passionate, love filled kiss.

You giggle softly, your hands wrapping around her wrist as you waste no time in kissing her back, arms coming up to loosely wrap around her neck as you press your chest against hers, reveling in the feeling of her lips pressed against your own.

You hummed a gentle tune to yourself as you mixed up the pitcher of lemonade, far too deep in thought to pay the bustling party behind you any mind.

One of your favorite parts about the summer time was the cookouts. There was something about nearly the entire town coming together at someone’s house, enjoying the warm weather, the bright sun and good food, that made your heart burst with excitement.

You were just about ready to make your way to your backyard with the others, when you felt a firm hand sliding against your waist, smoothing down over the fabric of your flower sun dress and pulling you into their chest.

“Don’t you think we have enough drinks baby?” Ellie hums out softly, pressing her lips against the base of your neck, making you giggle softly as you lean into her.

“It’s almost 100 degrees outside, Ellie…I don’t think too many things to drink is even a possibility” you explain before you turn around in her arms, smiling softly at the firm as you wrap your arms around her neck, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of her lips.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the grill? You better not burn all that food I bought” you playfully pinch her shoulder, which only makes her groan softly.

“It’s too hotttt….wanna be inside with you” she whines out, resting her head against your shoulder as she gently sways with you in the kitchen.

You hum as you nod, your fingers toying with the short hair at the nape of her neck. “I know baby….but your father will be very upset if he doesn’t have at least one beer with you…come on pretty girl” you hum out to her softly, your hands sliding down to hold her around her middle before giving her a gentle pinch near her ribs, which makes her yelp out as she pulls away, a prominent pout on her sun burnt, freckled face.

“Fine…but come out with me” she huffs out, leaning in to give your forehead a kiss before she makes her way outside, making you giggle softly.

You sigh softly to yourself, placing the lemonade on a small tray paired with some already filled red solo cups, and a few empty ones on the side that you knew would be getting filled up shortly after you brought them out. You had to move slowly with how full they were, groaning softly to yourself as you tried your best to not let them fall as you tried making your way through the crowd of people in your home.

“Oh honey let me help you with that!” You hear Lilac chirp out as she quickly comes behind you, pressing her hands against your waist before taking the heavy pitcher off of the tray, making you sigh in relief once you saw the girl.

“There you are! I was starting to think you wouldn’t show…” you pout out, smiling softly as the girl leaned in to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, which you were quick to lean into as well.

She giggled softly as she groaned. “Did you know that this party of yours is causin’ traffic out there?? Everyone’s dying to come, I almost ran out with the rollers still in my hair” she explains, making you giggle softly as she opened up your back door for you.

After everything happened with you and Ellie, you were terrified of what would happen with Lilac. You felt like you’d robbed the girl of something she wanted without even trying, even after being the one to tell her to go for it! Even after Ellie assured you time and time again that Lilac was always one to get innocent crushes on everyone, and that she’d get over it in no time, you were still scared that you’d lose the girl as a friend after just making her one.

You were quickly proven wrong when you met her in town a few days after, texting her and letting her know you had something to tell her. Instead of her being upset about you and Ellie, Lilac was thrilled. She grabbed you and hugged you, and told you that she even wanted to celebrate with you and Ellie, explaining that her crush was as innocent as could be.

And before you could even realize, Lilac had become your best friend.

You giggle softly as the children practically jumped you once they saw the tall pitcher of ice cold lemonade, frantically grabbing the cups and chugging them down before running off to play in the sun.

Catching sight of Ellie with her father and a few of her coworkers makes your heart flutter, and you decide to fill up a few more cups of the cold drink as you make your way over to them, a soft smile on your face.

“Lemonade anyone?” You chirp out softly, all of them taking them gladly before Ellie slung her arm around your waist, pulling you into her side as she pressed a kiss to the side of your head, carrying on with her conversation.

You don’t miss the way Joel smiles fondly at the two of you over the edge of his cup.

And later that night, when everyone’s left and the house is cleaned up, you lay with Ellie in your bed, the cool breeze blowing in through your windows, your bedroom illuminated by the white light of the moon.

You’re tucked away into Ellie’s side, your thigh hooked over her body, one of her hands rubbing along your skin and massaging your leg, the other looped around your shoulder as you stare up at her lovingly, your hand dancing along her t shirt clad chest.

“Did you have fun today?” You question softly, which earns a gentle smile from the girl before she looks down at you, giving you a slight nod.

“The best time baby….haven’t seen so many people gathered around for a party in a long time…you did good angel” she breaths out before she leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, which makes you smile warmly.

But the warmth doesn’t just settle in your cheeks.

A simple kiss from your girlfriend makes it travel down your body. It warms your throat, your chest, your stomach, traveling all the way down until it settles right in between your legs, making you clear your throat to bite back a whimper.

Ellie frowns softly when she notices this, pulling away to look down at you as she continues massaging your thigh. “Something wrong princess?” She questions, slight concern lacing her tone as she watches you with furrowed brows, her expression clear in the light of the moon.

When you and Ellie first started being romantic again, she promised you she’d take things slow. Your relationship only went far as kissing, a few gropes here and there, but nothing further than a steamy make out session that ended once Ellie tapped your thighs and forced you off of her lap, fearing that she was pushing you too far.

At first it was extremely considerate of her. It was true, intimacy was a bit hard for you at first, somehow thinking of your failed relationship every time you tried, blaming your self for not pleasing your wife enough.

But as time went on, those thoughts were virtually silenced. You didn’t even have the capacity to think of anything but Ellie when her tongue was down your throat, the feeling of her big hands on your body, and her toned thighs pressed between your legs.

So now…God…you needed her more than anything.

You were almost embarrassed to even say it, but it was getting to a point that anything Ellie did was setting you into a frenzy. Just today, her toned arms in here wife pleaser and her denim jeans made your head spin, and your panties cling to your needy core.

Her frown deepened when you didn’t answer, the girl turning over a bit to better face you before her hand came up to cup your cheek. “Baby? What’s the matter?” She questions once again.

You finally let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you reach up to grab her wrist gently, keeping her close as you avoid looking into her eyes.

“I….need you Ellie…need you so bad” you sigh out softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Her frown only deepens further as she stares at you down in confusion. “Need me? But angel I’m right-“ her words are cut off when she feels your grip on her wrist tighten, and your thigh hikes up her body further, pressing your core against her side.

Her eyes widen in realization.

“Fuck…” she breaths out, watches as your eyes flutter open to stare into her own, yours filled with want and need as your other hand moves down to hold onto her exposed hip gently.

“Are you sure baby? We can…fuck…we don’t have to…” she struggles to get out, eyes glued to yours as she watches you.

You shake your head before you gently pry her hand from your face, bringing her fingers down to press against your lips before you sigh. “I’ve thought about you every day since I’ve left Ellie…of course I’m sure…” you sigh out softly before you open your mouth, taking her pointer and middle finger into your mouth as you slowly suck them in, moaning around them.

Ellie lets out a soft moan as she watches you, feeling her own clit pulse against her underwear as she quickly grows warm with a need similar to yours.

“That’s my girl…fuck….been needy huh?” She moans out, making you nod before you roll over to straddle her, her other hand coming down to grip your hip softly, massaging your skin through the fabric of her own t shirt draped over your body.

You let go of her fingers with a pop before you stare down at her, a soft smile on your face as you move down to press your lips against hers, wasting no time in pushing your tongue into her mouth.

The kiss is slow, and sensual and dirty and it’s everything you’ve wanted and needed since your divorce. It’s nothing like kissing your ex wife, but it’s everything like kissing Ellie. The noises she makes has your head spinning, and it forces you to roll your hips down onto her, which makes her moan even louder into your mouth.

“Fuck…want you to…wanna feel your pussy on mine baby…can you do that for me?” She questions out desperately, her hands roaming your body, pushing her t shirt up on your to reveal your tits.

Ellie had it all planned out. She wanted it to be romantic, she wanted to take things slow and show you just how much she loved you, just how serious she was about you. She wanted you to feel loved.

Oh did her plans not go as planned, but oh how you felt so fucking loved.

You nod eagerly, sitting up and tugging the t shirt off, tossing it somewhere in your room. Ellie moans loudly at the sight of you above her, hands reaching up and cupping either one of your boobs, pinching and rolling your nipples between her fingers.

Once she’s had her fun, you climb off of her for a moment, tugging off her panties, giving her time to tug her sleep shorts off as well, leaving you naked and her bottom half bare. She’s feverishly tugging you back onto her lap, allowing you to tug her t shirt off.

And the feeling of your bare chest pressed against hers makes you moan loudly, your lips coming down again to press a needy kiss to hers, filled with tongue and teeth as you both situate yourselves.

The moment comes quickly, your legs slotted between hers perfectly, pussy right on top of hers as she stares up at you with low, hazy eyes, strong hands gripping your thighs and your ass as you slowly began rolling your hips so that your throbbing clit bumps against hers, making the girl beneath you moan loudly as her back arches and her eyes flutter shut.

“F-fuck! Oh my….fuuuuckkkk…that’s it baby…fuck yourself down onto my pussy…oh my….ha-fuck” she moans out, voice going hoarse as her strong fingers press firmly into your skin, sure to leave marks in the morning.

Your moans mix with hers, paired with the sound of your sopping wet pussies sliding against one another, a symphony of erotic love making that has been a long time coming. It’s like the two of you let out every raw emotion that had been bottled up for all those years you spent apart, her longing, your hurt, it all mixes together to create something of a beautiful love song that belongs to the two of you, and no one else.

“Ellieee…fuck! Feels…feels so good..” you moan out, picking up the pace as you feel your orgasm growing closer and closer by the second, your bed creaking with every thrust of your hips.

Ellie can’t take it anymore, moving to sit up as she grips both of your hips, aiding you in riding her pussy faster before she gives you an encouraging nod. “Come on baby…cum with me, yeah?” She sighs out breathlessly, staring up into your eyes passionately as she feels her own orgasm growing closer.

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, keeping her closer as you moan and whine, eyebrows furrowing with pleasure as you struggle to make it there, struggle to not let the pleasure get the best of you.

Your heart feels like it’ll just burst.

“I…mmm…fuck….Ellie I love you…I love you so much…” you moan out, eyes fluttering shut as you feel right on the brink of your orgasm.

“That’s my fucking girl…I love you so much baby…more than you’ll ever know…” she moans out to you.

And suddenly, you see colors.

Your chest feels like you’ve been struck by lightening, struggling to even stay upright as your orgasm ripples through your body violently, your forehead resting against Ellie’s as your arousal mixes with hers, both of your orgasms so intense, so powerful, it feels like it’ll kill you both right then and there.

The come down is hard, because it’s almost sorrowful to no longer feel the amazing feeling that comes with making love to Ellie, but the feeling of her strong arms wrapping around your middle and keeping you close is almost better, her lips pressing against your collar bones and chest as you both breath hard, the room silent compared to the noise that once filled it.

She holds you there the entire time, whispering how much she loves you, promising you that she’ll give you everything you could ever want and need.

And while you’ve heard all of that before, just for it to end in shit….

You believe her, because this time? It’ll be different.

[v1sexual]

power couple | vi, arcane

basketball player! vi x cheerleader! reader

warning/s: cursing, minor injury (?)

summary: in which you and vi have been keeping your relationship a secret from the public, but that was until an unfortunate injury during the nationals.

note: i am so sorry if this sucks lmao, i haven’t written anything in like almost a year. also i’ve been obsessed with the wnba lately so expect the next few fics to be basketball related… oops! also i have zero knowledge about cheer and about a 30% knowledge when it comes to basketball. anyways i hope you guys enjoy! sorry for any mistakes and spelling errors, also i had no idea how to end that. plus this fic was written at 3 in the morning.

hiding your relationship from the public has never been easy, but you and vi have both agreed that it would be for the best knowing that both of your lives will always be under the watchful eye of the public. your friends have been very helpful in helping hide the relationship, but with all the rumours going around and “evidence” circulating the media they could only do so much. especially when vi has a habit of always needing to touch you, and you being a sucker for vi’s touch.

exhibit a:

after a tough but rewarding game against piltover university, zaun’s basketball team decided to celebrate by going to the last drop for a round of drinks. jinx, in true jinx fashion, decided to host a live on one of her social media platforms. the live started out quite normal, fans asking questions, fans wanting to see specific team members etc.

“yo vi,” jinx called out to her sister. “the fans wanted to see you.” she then panned the camera to her right, showing vi sitting at the corner of the booth with you on her lap and her head on your shoulder.

sevika, who was standing next to jinx snatched her phone away, her eyes bulging from her head as she nodded towards vi and you. jinx laughed nervously and immediately changed the topic, as you hopped o vi’s lap (much to vi’s dismay).

@iluvbball: DID U GUYS SEE THAT

@munchmadness: WAS THAT A GIRL ON VI’S LAP???

@zaunbball4ever: call me crazy but is that (name)??? lLIKE CHEER CAPTAIN (NAME)??

sevika snorts and rolled her eyes, “you guys are crazy. there’s no way vi can pull her or anyone actually.” jinx nods in agreement, yapping about how she would know since she’s vi sister.

you rolled your eyes playfully at two, snickering as you ordered another round of drinks. vi squeezes next to jinx to say hi to the live, lying through her teeth saying that she just came back from the bathroom but the fans weren’t having it.

@igotjinxed: STOP LYINGG

@sevikasarms: bro ur nose is growing stop lying

@ilovegert: no because who else would have that fuckass haircut???

“yo leave my haircut out of this,” vi whined as her teammates cackled, which only made the fans eat the dating rumour up.

exhibit b:

after the chaotic live at the lost drop, you and vi (plus the whole basketball team) decided to be more careful. always making sure to hide from the cameras, started to plan date nights in your dorms, and just trying to tone down your interactions.

during your one year anniversary, vi booked a weekend getaway for the two of you at a cabin located in a small town two hours away from zaun. the two of you were still cautious of course, wearing your caps low and sunglasses resting on your noses. but of course, it’s still not enough.

during your last night at the cabin, you and vi decided to visit the village park to check out the local festival. the two of you were seated at one of the benches watching the fireworks when a camera flash from the distance caught your eye. vi froze as you buried your head in her neck,

“did you think they caught our faces?” you whispered as vi placed her arm around you, her hands covering your face. she shook her head, “i don’t think so, plus we both have our hoods up so they can’t drag my hair into this.’

you giggled, “poor you.”

the next day, on your back to zaun university, a call from sevika interrupted you and vi’s road trip karaoke sesh.

“have you guys opened any of your social media accounts?” she screeched, holding jinx’s cracked phone up. lo and behold, it was the picture from last night. vi’s arms around you, your head on her shoulder, but the two of you had your backs turned from whoever took the picture. the photos were grainy, a bit blurry, but there was one where you can make out the faint features of vi’s side profile as her head faces you. a small tuft of her pink hair peeking from her jackets hood, her crooked nose adorned with her nose piercing, and those powder blue eyes soft with affection.

you shrugged, “i don’t think its that bad.” vi nods in agreement, keeping her eyes on the road. “we literally have seen worse,” she added.

when the call ended, you decided to open your socials making sure you were using one of your dump accounts. “the comments are crazy,” you laughed, reading vi your favorites.

@nationsnumber1: okay but this is actually so sweet i want to cuddle and watch the fireworks too

@wassapphic: idek if this is actually vi and (name) like pls its so grainy and they’re not even facing the camera BUT this is so them coded

@iluvwomenwhohoops: nah man see that pink hair in the last photo??

@hoopsalot: idc if this isn’t them, my delusional heart say it is

exhibit c:

one of the perks of being in the cheer team is that you get to watch to vi play and cheer for her at the same time without anyone twisting it into something else. so here you are, courtside with the rest of the cheer team, clutching your pompoms as vi and the girls go neck to neck with piltover for the nationals.

every time vi shoots a three (or a two) she shoots you a quick glance, a smug smile on her face. she’s been doing this since the two of you started dating, but she’s been way more obvious about it recently. her gaze would linger, hell she’d even shoot a wink and it was enough for fans to notice. the next thing you know edits of you and her starts taking the internet by storm. but the crowd’s favorite edit is probably the one that has guilty as sin by taylor swift as the background music of a video compilation of you and vi.

@zaunufaves: is this wlw?

@getmiloed: you mean GAYlty as sin

@wlwbballs: i love the basketball player x cheerleader trope

@basketbawler: very “he was a punk and she did ballet” coded

“so much for being subtle violet,” you sighed, resting your head on her shoulder as the two of you scroll through tiktok.

—

it’s been two years of you and vi hiding your relationship from the public, but at this this point the whole world believes that there truly is something between you and her. the only reason why it’s not official yet is because, well, the two of you haven’t hard launched or confirmed anything. during interviews where reporters would bring up your relationship status, the two of you would always redirect the question or answer neutrally, not really denying or confirming anything. but that was until the nationals, zaun university vs the university of piltover. the game of the century, violet lanes vs. caitlyn kiramman, coach vander vs. coach silco.

the game was tough, both teams are going neck to neck, at the end of the second quarter piltover and zaun were tied 38-38. both teams were getting ready to head into their locker room to regroup and discuss the game plan, which means it was time for the cheer teams to shine. on your way to the court, you passed by the team and a series of “goodluck’ were exchanged.

“i’ll be watching you baby,” vi whispered under her breath as she passed by you, jinx groaned in annoyance and pushed her inside the tunnel after giving you and the other cheerleaders a high five.

ekko, one of your spotters and jinx’s boyfriend, elbowed you. “man you guys are so obvious.” he teases, you laughed and rolled your eyes. “let’s just focus on the routine.”

the routine went well as expected, heck it was perfect. your coach smiled and cheered from the sidelines, proud of you and the rest of the cheer team. as you guys got into the last part of the routine, somehow something went wrong. during one of the last stunts, one where you were thrown in the air, one that you and your team have practically perfected, you slipped. one second you’re in the air and the next thing you know you were falling. you tried your best to land on your feet in attempt to somewhat save the routine, but the landing was off as expected (since you weren’t supposed to land on the ground at all).

you clutched your ankle in pain, face paling as you looked at the way it bended unnaturally. your team scattered around you, shouting for medic and blocking you from the camera’s view. you laid there, tears streaming your face as your ankle swell up. your coach knelt next to you, “you did great (name), you’re okay.” she whispered ass you apologize profusely.

as you tried to even your breaths out, you heard vi shouting.

“move!” your girlfriend shouted, squeezing through the huddle your teammates made. vi was immediately on your side, her hands cupping your face. “you’re okay baby, breathe for me.”

“what are you doing here?” you whispered, ignoring your coach’s stare. “the media will—“

vi shuts you up with a kiss, “fuck that. you’re injured (name), i don’t care what they say.”

you nodded, resting you head on her lap as you waited for the medical team to arrive.

ekko handed you a towel which vi draped over your head as they loaded you to the stretcher. you can’t help but groan when your ankle was moved, vi immediately gripped your hands and told you that it was going to be okay, that the pain will be temporary. as the medics take you away vi followed, well attempted to but you shooed her away.

“you have a game to play violet,” you whispered harshly. she shakes her head, “but i want to be beside you, help you feel better.”

“the only thing you can do to help me feel better is if you win this vi,” you argued. “you practiced and trained your whole life for this and i’ll be damned if i let you miss it just because i got my ankle sprained.”

vi sighs, she squeezed your hand tight. “you sure?”

“knock ‘em dead violet,” you smiled, squeezing her hand back. vi nods slowly as she let your hand go, but before she went back to her team she pulled you in for a kiss. you kissed her back, a soft sigh escaping your lips when she pulled away. “make sure you watch yeah?” you replied with a nod before ushering her away as the medical team took you to a tent.

—

as the medics treat your ankle, you watched a live recording of the game on your phone. two quarters later, zaun emerges victorious winning this year’s national.

“oh thank god,” you murmured. you quickly sent vi and the rest of the team a short congratulatory text before putting your attention back to the livestream. a smile formed on your lips as members of the basketball team were pulled individually for short interviews, you laughed at how everyone was energized and pumped up (especially jinx who was literally vibrating during interview). then last but not the least was vi, your girl had a huge grin on her face as she happily answered the reporter’s questions but you could tell she wanted to get out of there quick.

“okay vi last question,” the reporter said. “during the halftime cheer performance, we all saw how you ran to cheer captain (name)’s side. heck, you even helped her onto the stretcher and refused to leave her side until she told you to go play and win tonight. the two of you have always never denied nor confirm the dating rumour that’s been brewing for two years now, but i think tonight changes that now? especially because of the sweet kiss you shared before you went back courtside, any comments?”

you groaned, completely forgetting about the kiss. you watched vi, you can see the cogs in her head turning. she stayed quiet for a minute, you knew how important it is for her to ask your opinion on what to and what not to say publicly about your relationship, but at this point the kiss pretty much confirms it.

“yeah i guess the cat’s out of the bag.” vi smiles at the camera and shrugs, “(name) and i have been together for awhile now. we weren’t really trying to keep it a secret, just private. but tonight changes it you know? seeing my girl get injured like that was just— yeah.”

the reporter nods, “thank you vi. before you go, is there anything you want to say to her? knowing that she’s watching this?”

“hey baby.” vi smiles cheekily at the camera. “i cannot thank you enough for the support and motivation. i couldn’t have done it without you, i love you so much my cheerleader.” she winked as everyone laughs.

“sweet, thanks vi.” the reporter said as vi went back to her team as they presented trophies. “there you have it folks, this year’s national champions and couple of the year.”

your jaw drops, you were absolutely speechless. the nurse who sat at the desk near you let’s out a chuckle which only made your cheeks grew 10x redder than it was.

—

“i swear the internet is eating this up,” jinx said, as you and the rest of your friend group lounged at vi’s dorm. jinx’s phone was connected to the tv as everyone watched replays of the games, fan edits, and fan reactions to the championship game. you and vi were tucked away at the corner of the couch, your feet propped up on one of foot rests as she cuddled you.

after a couple of minutes of mindlessly scrolling through tiktok, jinx stumbled upon a new fan edit of you and vi. the clips were taken from her interview and the kiss that happened on live tv.

“i cannot believed you guys did that,” sevika said as she shook her head, laughing as jinx scrolled through the comments projecting it through the tv.

@ho0p3r: AND THE GAYS WIN AGAIN

@iloveyn: i told you guys they were dating! can’t believe i got called crazy for shipping them

@zaunch33r: this may or may not be the best thing to happen in women’s college bball

@ynandvi4ever: (ship name) deniers how are ya’ll feeling

@sapph1csports: me and WHO

you rolled your eyes playfully and just buried your face in vi’s chest as she laughed. she pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “at least we won’t have to spout anymore stupid excuses.”

[chimcess]

❆ Chapter One: Homecoming Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Hockey Player!Jungkook, Figure Skater!Reader, Hockey Player!Taehyung, Hockey Player!Jimin, Hockey Player!Namjoon, Hockey Player!Hoseok, Figure Skater!Jin, Coach!Yoongi Genre: Hockey!AU, Figure Skating!AU, Olympic!AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Self-Discovery, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn Word Count: 24.1k+ Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has always been destined for greatness as a competitive figure skater, her dreams of the Olympics sparkling like the ice beneath her blades. But when a devastating injury sidelines her, those dreams seem to melt away. Just when she feels lost, she unexpectedly meets Jeon Jungkook, a talented NHL hockey player. Warnings: Reader is injured and still using crutches, meet-cute reference to an unhealthy relationship with mom, absent father, parental issues, pining, low self-esteem, reader has anxiety, reader is very stressed out, honestly my girl is just exhausted, very pushy neighbors (but we love them for it), Taehyung is adopted, this is really just an introduction to everyone so not many warnings here... A/N: Happy New Year! Let's kick things off with a new massive series. This one will touch on very heavy topics such as toxic parents, mental health issues, and non-consensual touching. Please proceed with caution. New Chapters every month!

masterlist || next

I never used to think about what came next.

Why would I? Back then, the future felt like a far-off, shapeless thing—something for other people to worry about. I was too tangled in the middle of my story to even consider its ending. Life moved fast, like pages riffling under a restless thumb, each chapter running into the next before I had time to catch my breath. There was no pausing, no foreshadowing. Just motion. Just noise.

And sometimes—if the stars aligned, if the right song played through the speakers and your body remembered everything it had trained for—sometimes, it felt like you were brushing up against something holy. Like a dream you hadn’t dared say out loud. It sat there on the edge of your reach, glowing with possibility. But just when your fingers grazed it—when you let yourself believe it might be real—life had a way of snapping its fingers. Books closed. Lights cut out. And you were right back where you started, blinking in the dark.

I don’t think I ever really knew what “normal” meant.

Normal was something other people lived. People who wore buttoned-up shirts and had reliable morning routines, who drank coffee in break rooms and complained about meetings. My days started before the sun—slipping out of bed in the pitch black, lacing up my skates while the cold gnawed at my skin. Stretch until it hurts. Practice until the movements melt into muscle memory. The rink always smelled like frost, metal, and sweat. And underneath that, something sharper—hunger. Not the kind that fades with a snack, but the kind that lodges in your ribs and won’t let go.

That was my rhythm. That was my religion. Until it wasn’t.

I don’t remember the first time I stepped onto the ice. I just know I never wanted to step off. It was the one place that made sense. My body knew what to do there. My brain went quiet, finally. The chaos in me stilled, every time. That’s what made it home.

My mom, Emily, was the first to see it in me. That spark. That thing you can’t quite name but can’t ignore, either. And once she saw it, she refused to let it go. Her love didn’t come in soft words or warm embraces. It came in early alarms, packed bags, and a pressure so constant it eventually felt like air.

Some people called her obsessive. They said she was chasing ghosts, trying to reclaim something she’d lost. And maybe they were right. Maybe I was her second chance, her do-over. But I never resented her for it. Not really. Her ambition burned hot—too hot, sometimes—but it kept me warm. Even when it singed the edges of us.

She’d been a skater, too. Once. Before everything changed. Before the pregnancy, the marriage, the slow surrender of all the things she used to dream about. Her life narrowed, like a funnel, until all that remained was me and the rink. That was the shape her love took—sharp-edged and relentless, but real.

She met my dad when she was still trying to outrun her own shadow. He was in town for police training. They fell hard and fast—or maybe just fast enough to not question it. I came along not long after. A courthouse wedding. A move to Olympia. A life that never quite settled into the one they’d imagined. Eventually, we left. Colorado was calling. Or maybe just the ice.

Jim—my dad—stayed behind, burying himself in his routine, in a house that still smelled like old coffee and missed chances. I became the in-between. Tugged between two versions of love: his quiet, distant steadiness and my mother’s blinding storm.

And now here I was. Back in Michigan.

The intercom snapped me out of my head.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. We’ve begun our descent into Detroit, where the local time is 5:18 p.m., and the temperature is a brisk fifteen degrees Fahrenheit. Please make sure your seat belts are fastened and tray tables are locked.”

Fifteen degrees. Michigan always did have a flair for the dramatic.

I pressed my forehead to the window, watching the clouds give way to gray city lights below. My knee ached, a deep, pulsing throb. The kind that doesn’t fade. I was supposed to see Dr. Jeon on Monday. Everyone said he was the best, that if anyone could fix it, it was him. But I wasn’t waiting on a verdict—I already knew.

The moment it happened, I knew.

The rink had been quiet that day, sun slanting in through high windows, music drifting through the speakers—Swan Lake, soft and haunting. I wasn’t competing. Just skating for myself. My mother sat in the stands beside my coach, their heads bowed in conversation. I picked up speed, moving into a fan spiral.

Then—nothing. Just the wrong angle. The wrong second.

The blade caught. My body twisted. My world flipped sideways.

When I hit the ice, it wasn’t the pain I noticed first. It was the sound. The dull, sickening crack, and then silence. My breath caught somewhere in my chest.

The plane touched down with a jolt, the wheels screaming against the runway. I flinched, the memory scattering like glass.

Around me, seatbelts clicked and passengers jostled for overhead bags, their conversations humming back to life. I stayed seated. My crutches were wedged beneath the seat in front of me, cold metal pressing against my legs.

A few months ago, I moved like wind. I was weightless. Now, every step felt like a negotiation. Every breath like a debt I didn’t remember agreeing to.

At baggage claim, I stood off to the side, crutches tucked beneath my arms, watching the carousel churn. Suitcases slid by in slow, looping circles like planets on a lazy orbit. My hands were full. My leg, stiff and aching, was practically dead weight. I had no idea how I was going to get them off the belt.

“You need a hand?”

The voice was sudden, close, and I turned too quickly. My balance shifted. One crutch slipped from my grip and clattered to the ground with a metallic thud.

“Shit—sorry,” I muttered, trying to grab for something—anything—to hold onto, but he was already there.

He caught me. Hands on my arms, steady and instinctive, like this wasn’t the first time he’d stopped someone from hitting the floor. His touch was firm but careful. Measured. And somehow, without a word, he anchored me.

Everything else—the hum of the baggage belt, the rolling wheels of suitcases, the overlapping voices echoing through the terminal—blurred around the edges. Like we were in a brief pause. A pocket of quiet inside the chaos.

“You okay?” he asked. His voice was warm, level. Unrushed.

I nodded before I even knew what I was saying. “Yeah. Fine.” A lie, of course. But a reflexive one. The kind you tell a stranger who just caught you in more ways than one.

He didn’t let go right away. Just lingered a second longer, maybe making sure I was stable. Then he crouched down to retrieve the crutch, his movements easy, unfazed. When he handed it back, his gaze didn’t carry pity—just something thoughtful. Attentive.

“Thanks,” I said, too quietly. I took the crutch and gripped it tighter than necessary.

He smiled a little, the kind of smile that didn’t ask for anything. “No problem.”

Around us, the terminal snapped back into focus. Suitcases banged onto the carousel. A family argued about car seats. A baby cried somewhere in the distance. But for a few seconds more, he stayed beside me, his presence quiet but undeniably solid.

His eyes flicked toward my luggage—still waiting, still unclaimed. “Need help with your bags?”

My first instinct was pride. “I’ve got it,” I said, automatically.

He raised an eyebrow, not judging, just mildly amused. “You sure?”

My knee pulsed in answer, sending a sharp signal up my thigh. I sighed. “Okay, maybe not totally.”

“No shame in that,” he said easily. He stepped forward, grabbed my suitcase like it weighed nothing, balanced my carry-on on top without breaking stride.

We started walking together, or rather, I hobbled while he adjusted his pace to mine without comment. His steps were smooth, unrushed. Like he wasn’t trying to be anywhere else.

“Someone picking you up?” he asked, guiding us toward the exit.

“Nope. Just grabbing a cab.” I didn’t look at him when I said it, but I was aware of him next to me—his quiet presence, the low warmth of his voice, the way he carried my bags without making it feel like a favor.

“I’ve got my car in the overnight lot,” he said, voice casual. “Could give you a ride, if you want.”

I hesitated—too long. “That’s okay,” I said quickly. Too quickly.

His face didn’t change much, but something subtle shifted. Not disappointment exactly. Just... a beat skipped.

We pushed through the sliding doors and were hit with a blast of cold so sharp it stole my breath. I hissed through my teeth, pulling my coat tighter.

He glanced over. “Forgot what Michigan feels like in January?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Something like that.”

The air felt cruel. Not just cold, but personal. The kind of cold that didn’t just bite—it burrowed.

“So,” he said, voice soft and clouding in the air, “where were you before this?”

“Nevada,” I said. “Before that, Colorado. We moved around a lot.”

“We?” he echoed, like he already knew the answer.

“My mom and me,” I said. “She never liked staying in one place too long.”

He nodded like that made perfect sense. “Sounds like it kept things interesting.”

“It did,” I said, laughing softly. “And exhausting.”

He smiled at that, and it reached his eyes.

The conversation, somehow, didn’t feel forced. It flowed the way snow falls—quiet, natural, layering into something without you realizing it.

“You staying in town a while?”

“For the foreseeable future,” I said. I hadn’t said it out loud until now. It sounded strange. Final.

“Good,” he said simply. And the way he said it—low, certain—made my stomach flip for reasons I couldn’t explain.

I looked at him then. Really looked. He had that quiet kind of good looks—the kind that crept up on you. Tall, broad-shouldered, a little scruffy, like he hadn’t shaved in a couple days. His eyes were dark, warm. Like they’d seen things and still knew how to look gently.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he added, running a hand through his hair. It flopped back into place like it belonged that way—messy but deliberate.

“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe.”

“Where are you staying?” he asked, the question light but laced with something... expectant.

“Royal Oak,” I said. “Just moved in. The old houses there are so old and beautiful. I like that.”

He smiled. “Me too.”

The space between us felt thinner suddenly, like a thread pulled taut. His gaze flicked down to my hands, and without warning, he reached for them.

His fingers wrapped around mine—bare, stiff from the cold. His hands were warm. Startlingly so. The kind of warmth you notice because it feels like it doesn’t belong in a place like this.

I froze. Not physically—at least not entirely—but inside. Some part of me flinched without moving, unsure what to do with that kind of contact.

It wasn’t just the touch. It was the way it spread. Quick. Quiet. Everywhere.

“We should get you a cab,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now. “You’re gonna lose a finger if you stay out here much longer.”

“Probably,” I murmured, managing a half-smile, though I didn’t pull away right away. He was just so warm, and his skin was so soft.

But eventually I did. I stepped back, and the cold rushed in like punishment.

He didn’t seem to notice the shift. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything. He flagged down a cab like it was second nature, raised one hand, and the car pulled over within seconds. Everything about him felt smooth, capable—like someone who knew how to move through the world.

He opened the door for me, then grabbed my suitcase and hoisted it into the trunk like it weighed nothing. I watched, rooted to the sidewalk, arms wrapped tight around myself as the wind bit harder.

He turned back around and looked at me—his expression open, calm. Like maybe this was all normal. Like I wasn’t just standing there, blinking through what felt like the end of something before it even had a chance to start.

“Thanks,” I said, finally. My voice was small. Not shy, exactly. Just unsure. Of him. Of myself.

He hesitated, just slightly. Then: “Jungkook.”

It took me a second to realize he was telling me his name. Offering it, like a kindness. Or a beginning. Maybe both.

“Y/N,” I said, a little too quickly. It came out sounding strange in my ears. Like I was saying it for the first time.

He smiled, like he liked the way it sounded. “Y/N,” he repeated, quietly. Testing it. Letting it sit on his tongue for a second longer than it needed to.

There was a shift then—a lean, not quite forward, but enough to make my heart catch. He looked like he was about to tell me something else. Something private.

“My friends and I go to this bar on Grand, on Tuesdays. It’s called Bronx,” he said. Like it was nothing. Just a casual thought. “You should come by sometime.”

I felt the flicker. That sharp, involuntary flutter in my chest.

But I shut it down fast.

Because guys like him—tall, kind-eyed, warm-handed guys who looked like they belonged in glossy photos and movie trailers—didn’t mean anything by that. They didn’t say you should come by because they wanted you, specifically. They said it because they were polite. Friendly. Because that’s the kind of person he probably was—someone who didn’t leave people hanging out in the cold without an invitation somewhere.

I forced a smile. “Yeah, maybe.”

My voice betrayed nothing. Not the pulse in my neck. Not the creeping question that had already started unraveling in the back of my mind: *Did he mean it like that?*

He brightened a little. “Great,” he said. Simple. Genuine.

And then that was it. He stepped back, shut the cab door behind me, and just like that, it was over.

The cab started rolling forward, and I twisted in my seat, looking back through the window. He was still there. Hands in his coat pockets, watching me go. When he noticed me looking, he lifted a hand in a wave—casual, easy.

I raised mine back, but it felt stiff, awkward. Like I was pretending I knew what I was doing.

I sat back and let the silence fill the cab around me. Pressed my forehead against the icy window and closed my eyes. The cold helped. It grounded me.

And still, I could feel the moment pulsing behind my ribs. Like it had already dug itself in.

But I pushed it down.

He probably wasn’t even flirting.

He was just being nice. Helpful. Friendly in that way extroverts often are to the damaged and weirdly quiet.

It didn’t mean anything.

I didn’t do this. I didn’t flirt. I didn’t meet strangers and imagine possibilities. I didn’t let myself believe that someone like him could look at someone like me and see anything worth lingering for.

Still…

That smile.

The way he said my name, like it had a shape he wanted to memorize.

I told myself not to read into it. I told myself to be smart.

But even as the cab turned away from the curb, my thoughts refused to listen. For the first time in a long time, they wanted to drift somewhere else.

And against all logic, I let them whisper the one thing I’d trained myself never to ask.

What if he meant it?

It was a little past seven when the cab pulled up in front of my new apartment building. The sky had already slipped into that deep, smudged purple that comes right before full darkness—like the city had been bruised by the cold. Streetlights flickered on one by one, casting soft, yellow halos on the sidewalk. My breath clouded the window as I leaned forward, squinting at the building like seeing it from the inside of the cab might make it feel less... foreign.

The driver popped the trunk without a word. I climbed out carefully, my crutches clacking against the frozen pavement, the wind slicing straight through my coat like it didn’t care I was already exhausted. That specific kind of tired had taken over—the kind that didn’t just live in your muscles, but somewhere deeper. Bone-tired. Soul-tired. I felt like I could lie down on the sidewalk and not move for a week.

The doorman was waiting. Late fifties, maybe older. Graying beard, wool gloves, an expression that said he’d seen this a million times before. He seemed almost bored with me, but I had never claimed to know much about faces. Emily usually had two or three and all of them usually meant roughly the same thing.

“New tenant?” he asked gently, taking in the crutches, the suitcase, the half-zipped coat.

“Yeah. 311.”

He didn’t smile, but there was something kind in his face—steady, nonjudgmental. “Elevator’s this way. I’ll get the bags.”

He moved with a quiet kind of efficiency, hoisting my luggage without fanfare and leading me through the glass doors. Warm air hit me the second we stepped inside, but it didn’t do much. The chill had already settled too deep.

The ride to the third floor was silent, except for the elevator’s low mechanical hum and the quiet squeak of my crutches on tile.

The apartment door opened with a stiff creak.

It smelled faintly of fresh paint and wood shavings—like the place had been redone recently, maybe just enough to feel new. But it was empty. No trace of a previous life. No leftover energy or forgotten curtain rod brackets. Just a blank, echoing box.

My footsteps bounced off the hardwood. There was no couch, no bed, not even a lamp. The walls were bright white and clean, but they felt more like placeholders than personality. It was like walking into the first draft of a home—raw, unfinished, waiting.

I stood in the middle of the living room and exhaled slowly. The air inside was still, untouched. A different kind of cold.

The silence pressed in. I reached for my phone and ordered pizza—not because I was hungry, but because I didn’t know what else to do. Pepperoni and mushrooms. Breadsticks. Something easy. Something normal. If I could just do one ordinary thing, maybe I could trick myself into believing this wasn’t so strange—being here, being alone, being... untethered.

The moment I hit "order," the silence rushed back in. I looked around, trying to imagine the space with actual furniture. A couch against the far wall. A coffee table. Maybe a bookshelf or two, even though I didn’t technically own any books that weren’t dog-eared paperbacks from airport terminals. Still—it would be something.

I’d never lived alone before. Not even for a week. My whole life had been spent sharing space—with my mom, with coaches, with other skaters during training seasons. I didn’t even know what someone needed to live by themselves. Like, did people just... know what to buy? Dish soap? Lamps? Rugs?

I turned slowly in place, studying the layout. The kitchen was a compact galley tucked into the left corner—sleek gray cabinets, bare countertops, a fridge that still had the protective film on the handle. No dishes, no groceries, not even a roll of paper towels. A kitchen that looked like a display model in a catalog—neat, untouched, uninviting.

The bedroom was small, but bright. Big window. Narrow closet. Enough space for a bed and maybe a nightstand if I got creative. And the bathroom was all clean lines and white tile—cold and clinical but functional. At least the water pressure seemed good.

But the best part, the one thing that made me pause, was the little alcove near the entrance. A window seat built into the wall, framed by two narrow bookcases on either side. It was unexpected—this soft, quiet space in an otherwise utilitarian apartment. I could picture myself there on some future night, curled up with a blanket and tea, snow falling outside. I didn’t even drink tea. But maybe I would. Maybe I’d become the kind of person who did.

For a few seconds, that vision held. A glimpse of what this place could be.

I sat down carefully on the window seat, resting my crutches against the wall. Outside, people moved along the street below, bundled in coats, heads ducked against the wind. They looked like they knew where they were going. Like they had homes to return to. Dogs to walk. Rooms that felt lived in.

I had a suitcase, a half-eaten past, and a blank canvas I wasn’t sure how to fill.

I tried not to think about it too hard. I’d figure it out. Eventually. Probably.

My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket, and I answered without thinking.

“Hey,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Did you make it?” My mother’s voice came through flat and sharp, like she was trying not to sound annoyed but failing anyway.

I knew that tone. Tight, clipped—meant to sound like concern, but edged with something else. Resentment maybe. Or disappointment.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just got here.”

There was a pause, but not the kind that invited conversation. Just the kind that preceded more instructions.

“You need to eat something. Something with protein. And make sure you stretch tonight. Five reps of the ankle series. And don’t forget the quad hold—it’s been long enough. You can’t let the muscle atrophy. The longer you wait to get back into a routine, the worse it’s going to be.”

Her voice didn’t rise, but it built. A rolling list of reminders and critiques I’d heard so many times they might as well have been tattooed on the inside of my skull.

“You’re slipping into bad habits,” she continued. “I get that you’re upset, but taking a break from discipline isn’t going to solve anything. You have to stay sharp, even now.”

Even now. As if everything hadn’t already fallen apart.

I didn’t say anything. I just held the phone to my ear and let her talk. She didn’t ask how the flight was. Didn’t ask how I was feeling. Didn’t ask what the apartment looked like, or if I’d managed to bring the bags in by myself, or if I was scared. She never did. And part of me hated how unsurprised I was by that.

Eventually, after a solid five minutes of talking at me—not to me—I cut in. Gently.

“I’ll call you in the morning,” I said. “I need to unpack.”

There was a beat of silence, like maybe she heard something in my voice she wasn’t sure what to do with. But it passed.

“Alright. Night.”

The call ended. And with it, the noise in my head stopped—abruptly and completely. The silence filled the space around me like water in a tank. Heavy. Quiet. Cold.

I stood in the middle of the apartment and looked around again. Still just walls and windows. Still too bright, too clean. Not a single thing to suggest a life had ever been lived here—or was about to be.

I wandered a little, dragging my fingers along the blank drywall. I couldn’t tell if it felt like a beginning or an ending. Maybe both.

Jungkook’s face surfaced in my mind, uninvited. His voice, the way it wrapped around my name like it was something rare. The way he’d looked at me—really looked.

But that was probably just him being nice. He seemed like the type who was nice to everyone. The type who smiled at baristas and helped old ladies carry their groceries. That kind of warmth wasn’t about me, personally. I just happened to be the one standing in front of him at the time.

Still... part of me wished I had asked him more. Or said yes, just to see what it felt like to say yes to something I didn’t overthink to death. But instead, I was here. Alone. In an apartment with no furniture, no food, and not even a mug for water.

I didn’t know how people did this—built homes out of spaces like this. What did you even buy? A rug? A lamp? A plant? I didn’t own any of those things. I didn’t even know how to *want* them yet. My whole life had been about function. Goals. Time splits. Physical therapy. Not... candles and color schemes.

I didn’t know what kind of person I was supposed to be without someone else dictating the shape of my day. But maybe that was the point.

Just as I started to sink into that thought, a knock at the door pulled me upright. I glanced at my phone. The pizza.

Finally.

I moved toward the door, my crutches tapping across the hardwood. But when I pulled it open, it wasn’t a delivery guy standing there.

It was a girl.

Tiny but sharp, like a spark wrapped in velvet. She wore a black knit sweater dress that clung just right and a sequined mini that caught the hallway light with every small movement. Her boots were scuffed in a cool-on-purpose kind of way, and her hair was buzzed close to her scalp—soft and dark, like velvet. She was beautiful in that specific, intimidating way that made you wonder if you should already know her name.

Her eyes were the thing that caught my eye the most. Deep brown and wide, with this gentle openness that made it impossible to look away. The reminded me of him.

“Hey!” she said, bright and familiar, like I was someone she already liked. “I’m Mina. I live next door. The pizza guy knocked on our door by accident—rookie mistake. Figured I’d deliver it myself and say hi.”

I blinked, caught off guard. My stomach grumbled loudly enough for both of us.

“Thanks,” I managed. “Would you mind putting it in the kitchen? I’m kind of...” I glanced down at the crutches.

“Oh, totally!” she said, stepping inside like it was already her second time visiting. She walked with the confidence of someone who’d never questioned whether she belonged.

She set the box down on the bare countertop and turned back toward me.

“So... what happened?” she asked, tipping her head toward my crutches.

“Sports injury,” I said. It was short, vague, and mostly true.

Mina nodded like that was good enough. “Bummer. You doing okay?”

I hesitated. Then nodded.

“Yeah. Getting there.”

“Well,” she said, hands on her hips, “moving sucks enough when you’re healthy. Doing it like this? Brutal.”

I laughed, surprised. “Yeah. It’s... a lot.”

She grinned. “No kidding. So, what’s the plan? Sleeping bag on the floor tonight?”

“I’ve got a suitcase and a yoga mat,” I said, a little defensively. “I’ll survive.”

Mina’s expression shifted like I’d just told her I was planning to spend the night on a sidewalk.

“God, that’s so depressing,” she said, but not unkindly. “You don’t even have, like, a chair?”

“I said I’ll survive.”

She squinted at me, like she was deciding something. Then, without another word, she picked up the pizza box and marched back to the door.

I blinked. “Wait—are you taking that with you?”

She looked over her shoulder with a mischievous grin. “Relax. You’re coming with me. You can eat at my place.”

“I—what?” I gestured helplessly to my clothes, to the emptiness around me. “I just changed into sweatpants. I don’t even have a plate.”

“Perfect. My kind of dinner party.”

Then she was gone. Just like that. Down the hall, pizza in hand.

I stared after her, stunned. Did she really just steal my dinner?

I stared at my reflection in the hallway mirror across the entry, still wearing my old track jacket and fleece pants, socks mismatched, hair shoved under a beanie.

She wanted me to come over?

I stood in the hallway for a moment longer than I needed to, crutches tucked beneath my arms, heart racing for no good reason. It wasn’t far—ten steps, maybe twelve. It wouldn't hurt to try. I grabbed my keys, my phone, and whatever was left of my courage, then made my way to 312.

I knocked, light at first, then louder when there wasn’t an answer right away.

The door creaked open.

But it wasn’t Mina.

A tall blonde woman stood in the doorway, her posture relaxed but somehow elegant. She had this understated confidence, the kind you couldn't fake. Her long hair hung smooth and straight over her shoulders, catching the hallway light like silk. Sharp, dark brows. Almond-shaped brown eyes so deep they were nearly black.

Where Mina had this kinetic, almost manic energy, this woman felt still—centered. Like nothing could rattle her.

“Hey,” she said, her voice low and a little husky. “You must be the girl from 311. Mina said you’d be joining us tonight.”

Her tone was warm but matter-of-fact, like my presence was expected. Mina was very quick. She'd only left my apartment less than thirty minutes ago.

“Yeah. Uh, thanks,” I said, suddenly aware of how I looked—sweatpants, old track jacket, socks that didn’t match. “I don’t want to impose or anything, I just—”

She cut me off with a wave of her hand. “Don’t bother with that. Mina’s made up her mind. There’s no use resisting. You might as well come in and let it happen.”

Before I could think of a response, Mina appeared in the hallway behind her, now in yoga pants and a faded concert t-shirt that looked like it had survived a dozen years and maybe even a festival or two.

“I knew you’d come,” she said, triumphant.

“You left me no choice,” I replied, trying for dry humor, though my voice still felt small in my throat. “You literally stole my dinner.”

Mina beamed like I’d just complimented her. “Exactly. Look how well it worked out! Way better than eating alone in your echo-chamber of an apartment.”

She stepped aside to let me in, then made a dramatic gesture toward the kitchen. “Oh my God, wait. I just realized—I didn’t even ask your name. I get so excited about people sometimes I forget basic manners.”

“Y/N,” I said. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” Mina repeated, like she was adding it to a mental guest list. “Perfect.”

The blonde woman smiled from where she was leaning against the counter. “I’m Leera,” she said. “But everyone calls me Lucy.”

“Only because I care,” Mina said, opening the pizza box like she was unveiling treasure.

The apartment felt like the polar opposite of mine—warm, mismatched in the best way. The walls were painted a dusty green, and string lights wound their way lazily across the ceiling beams. Plants sat in mismatched ceramic pots on nearly every available surface. The furniture didn’t match, but it didn’t matter—it worked. A soft, oversized armchair in the corner. A chipped wooden bookshelf filled with actual books. Framed photos on the wall that didn’t try too hard to impress. It felt lived in. Loved.

And it smelled amazing.

“Wait,” I said, eyeing the counter. “Why are there four pizzas?”

Mina shrugged, already opening another box. “We ordered ours before your guy showed up with yours. Honestly, we probably would’ve ordered four anyway. This way it just feels fated.”

Lucy opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Diet Coke—mine. She held it up with a raised eyebrow. “Want a glass? Ice?”

“Sure,” I said, my shoulders relaxing without my permission.

We gathered around the island, and before I knew it, I had a plate of food in front of me and a drink in my hand. Mina talked fast, hopping from subject to subject like her thoughts didn’t have brakes, and Lucy chimed in occasionally, always measured, always with that quietly amused tone like she was used to this routine and liked it more than she let on.

Mina was an event planner, which made perfect sense—she had that sort of wildly creative energy. Her life, she told me, was a mess of spreadsheets and glitter, and she wouldn't have it any other way. Her family was originally from Wisconsin, though her grandparents had emigrated from Korea. She had two brothers, both overprotective in different, exhausting ways, and one fiancé—Jimin—who she described as “obnoxiously supportive, like it’s his full-time job.”

Lucy, on the other hand, rebuilt classic cars for a living. I actually laughed when she said it, not because it was funny, but because I didn’t believe her at first. She had this sleek, polished air that made me assume she worked in design or luxury retail or something that involved perfectly tailored coats and clean fingernails.

But no. She spent her days under the hoods of aging Corvettes and vintage Mustangs, smelling like motor oil and coffee.

“People are always surprised,” she said with a faint smirk. “But it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. My dad started teaching me when I was twelve.”

As they talked, I found myself nodding, laughing in places I didn’t expect. It didn’t feel forced. It didn’t feel like I had to earn my seat. They weren’t waiting for me to prove anything.

They were just... letting me be there.

It wasn’t until I glanced at the clock that I realized it was almost midnight.

Somehow, a night that had started with stolen pizza had turned into something else. Something warmer. Easier. Something that felt dangerously close to *belonging*.

“Get used to late nights,” Lucy said, bumping her shoulder against mine gently. “Being friends with Mina means you’re on her time zone.”

Friends.

The word hit differently than I expected. Like something I wasn’t sure I was allowed to claim.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d used that word about myself—friend. Maybe never. There hadn’t been room for it growing up. My life was airports, hotel rooms, ice rinks. Mornings that started in the dark and ended long after the sun went down. Everything was measured in routines and results. Emily made sure of that. Friends, she said, were distractions. Noise. And eventually, I believed her.

So I learned how to keep my distance. I got good at it—stepping back before anyone could step away first. It was easier that way. Safer.

But Mina and Lucy weren’t trying to fit me into a box. They weren’t asking what I could do for them or weighing my worth. They just made space. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And that scared me more than being alone ever had.

“So, Y/N,” Mina said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of late-night stillness, “what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

I blinked, pulling myself back into the room. The warmth of the apartment, the soft light overhead, the smell of garlic still lingering in the air—it all felt too good, too easy.

“Big day,” I admitted, stretching slightly. “Furniture’s supposed to be delivered in the morning. Then all my stuff from Nevada should arrive by mid-afternoon. I need groceries. And I thought about picking out paint colors, but... that might be pushing it.”

Mina’s face lit up like I’d just suggested a road trip to Disneyland. “Need help? I’m free tomorrow. I thrive on chaos. We’ll have you fully moved in and halfway redecorated by dinner.”

She gave me a playful glance, eyes flicking toward my crutches. “You know, considering your... limited mobility.”

I hesitated, instinct pulling me toward the automatic no. But Mina didn’t wait for invitations. She made herself part of the plan before you even knew you had one. And somehow, saying no to her felt more exhausting than just letting her bulldoze her way through my life.

“That’d actually be great,” I said. “Thanks.”

Lucy looked over from the sink, where she was drying a mug with practiced ease. “Just don’t let her bully you into a theme,” she warned, smirking. “She’ll have your place looking like a Pinterest board before you can blink.”

Mina gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me, I have taste. I’m just trying to help her create a home. Is that such a crime?”

Lucy tossed the towel onto the counter. “I’m just giving her fair warning. Once the throw pillows come out, there’s no going back.”

I laughed, a real one this time. The kind that rose without effort, uncoiling something tight in my chest.

A yawn crept up before I could stop it.

“Go freshen up,” Mina said, waving me toward the bathroom. “I’ll set up the couch. It’s not a luxury suite, but it’s better than sleeping on the floor.”

Gratefully, I slipped down the hall, ducking into the small guest bath. I splashed cold water on my face, brushed my teeth with the travel toothbrush I kept in my purse, and stared at my reflection under the soft bathroom light. I looked tired—really tired—but there was a softness to it now. Less like unraveling, more like unwinding.

When I came back out, the couch had been transformed. A mountain of blankets, layered pillows, even a folded throw at the foot. It looked lived-in, warm—inviting in a way that my entire apartment hadn’t managed to be.

“Thanks,” I said, lowering myself onto the cushions. “This is a serious upgrade from what I had planned. You’ve both officially saved me from a night of regretting every decision I’ve ever made.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows. “We aim to please.”

“I’ll stop by around four tomorrow,” she added. “Just in time to pull you out from under Mina’s pile of fabric swatches.”

“Much appreciated,” I said, flashing Mina a grin.

Mina feigned indignation. “Rude. You’re going to love every second of it.”

Then her eyes brightened again. “Actually, I’ll see if the guys are around this weekend. They can help with the heavier stuff. They’ve got a game in Anaheim Friday, but they should be free after that.”

I froze mid-sip of my Diet Coke. “Game?”

Mina blinked like she’d forgotten the detail. “Oh—yeah. Jimin, Taehyung, and my other brother, Jungkook? They play for the Michigan Red Wings.”

I stared at her.

“That’s... hockey, right?”

Lucy snorted into her sparkling water.

Mina nodded slowly. “Yeah. NHL. You know... National Hockey League? Ice, sticks, fighting?”

I shook my head, slightly embarrassed. “Sorry. Hockey wasn’t really on my radar.”

“Shocking, coming from someone who lived on a rink,” Lucy teased, eyes amused.

“Emily used to complain about hockey guys hogging ice time. That’s about all I know.”

Mina’s face lit up again. “We’re taking you to a game. No discussion. The energy, the speed—plus, we sit in the family section, so you get snacks.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Mina thinks snacks are a recruiting tool.”

“They are,” Mina said. “And you’ll love it. Even if you don’t know what’s happening, it’s fun. And loud. And stressful. In a good way.”

I laughed. But inside, I was still stuck on the name.

I hadn’t said it aloud, but it echoed in my chest like a dropped pin in an empty room. Could it be... him? No. That was ridiculous. My Jungkook—if I could even call him that after a fifteen-minute conversation—had been a stranger with soft eyes and too-warm hands and a smile that had made something shift inside me.

This Jungkook played professional hockey.

I felt ridiculous for even making the connection.

But then Lucy, as if reading my mind, added casually, “He hasn’t dated anyone since Sky last year. It’s honestly kind of tragic. A guy like that shouldn’t stay single for long.”

Mina’s playful energy dimmed slightly. She gave Lucy a look, then turned to me. “Jungkook’s not like that. He’s not into flings or drama. He’s waiting for the right person."

Lucy lifted her sparkling water in a mock toast. “Not that it’s stopping every woman in Detroit. Pretty sure the entire city knows he’s single.”

Mina groaned. “Don’t even get me started on the girls who hang around the rink. I swear, some of them think it’s a dating service.”

I smiled, curling deeper into the couch, the blankets pulling up around my shoulders like armor.

“Duly noted,” I said. “I’ll be sure to stay on your good side.”

Mina pointed at me with mock severity. “Wise.”

But then she softened again, her voice quieter. “I just hate when people use them. They’re my family.”

And in that moment, I saw something deeper in her—a fierce kind of loyalty that burned hotter than all her jokes. It wasn’t about hockey. It was about the people she loved.

“Well,” I said honestly, “they’re lucky to have you.”

Mina blinked, like the words caught her off guard. But instead of responding, she just smiled, murmured, “Goodnight, Y/N,” and padded down the hallway, her socks sliding slightly on the hardwood.

Lucy lingered a little longer, eyeing me with that calm, assessing gaze of hers.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” I said. And I meant it. “Thanks again. I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

She nodded. “We get it. Starting over’s rough. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Then she disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone in the quiet.

Only I didn’t feel alone.

I sank further into the couch, the smell of lavender detergent in the blankets, the low hum of the fridge in the kitchen. My body felt heavy in a way that wasn’t painful for once—just... tired. In a good way.

My eyes closed without permission. My last conscious thought was of a crooked smile and dark eyes that had somehow felt like a beginning.

And that night, I dreamed of snow falling quietly and the warmth of someone reaching for my hand.

I woke up the same way I had every day for the past eight weeks—my knee throbbing like it had something to prove.

The ache was dull at first, the kind that makes you think maybe, just maybe, this morning would be different. But then I shifted slightly and a sharper, more insistent pain flared behind my kneecap, reminding me that hope was a luxury I couldn’t quite afford yet. I winced, pulling my leg toward my chest, stretching it carefully, slowly. The stiffness resisted. Then surrendered. Barely.

Moving furniture today was going to be a blast.

I stayed there a moment longer, curled on Mina’s absurdly comfortable couch, tangled in blankets that smelled faintly like fabric softener and lavender. The apartment was quiet, the kind of deep quiet that only exists early in the morning—when everything and everyone is still. The radiator hissed softly from the corner, fighting a losing battle against the Michigan winter pressing in from the windows.

I didn’t have to check the time to know it was early, but I did anyway. 5:48 A.M.

Typical.

Sleep and I had never been on great terms, but these days it felt more like a breakup. I closed my eyes again, not to fall back asleep—just to rest. Just to delay the day starting for a few more minutes.

Yesterday flickered back in fragments. The flight. The cold. The quiet, empty apartment. Then Mina. Then Lucy. Then... Jungkook.

Even just thinking his name made something shift in my chest. Not painful. Not entirely pleasant, either. Like a muscle tightening that didn’t know it was still sore.

Which was ridiculous.

He was just a guy. A good-looking one, sure—but not in the way people are in magazines. In the way that made you forget your next sentence. In the way that felt *unfair*. The way that made you certain people like him didn’t cross paths with people like you.

We’d talked for what—fifteen minutes? Maybe twenty? Long enough for me to catalog the exact shape of his smile, but not long enough for it to mean anything.

And yet... here I was. Thinking about him before six in the morning like some walking cliché.

I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my face. This wasn’t high school. This wasn’t a crush. This was just a kind moment from a stranger who happened to look like a movie star and carried himself like he didn’t know it.

Still, the memory of his voice saying my name was lodged somewhere beneath my ribs.

But none of it mattered. Even if he *had* meant something by it—and I wasn’t convinced he had—what was I supposed to do with that? I barely knew how to talk to people, let alone date one. Affection had always felt like someone else’s native language. My version of love was performance-based, transactional. Achieve, and you were worthy. Fall short, and the silence grew colder.

So no, I didn’t have a roadmap for this.

I shifted again, and my knee screamed in protest. Right. Focus.

I hauled myself upright with a groan, planting both crutches beside me, letting them take most of my weight. I needed coffee, but that required bravery—or at least caffeine-fueled motivation. Neither of which I had yet.

Instead, I wandered into the kitchen and finished off the warm, half-flat Diet Coke from the night before. Desperate times. The fizz scratched at my throat just enough to wake me up a little. I didn’t open any cabinets. It felt too intimate to rummage through someone else’s kitchen before sunrise.

The microwave clock blinked: 6:04 A.M.

Mina definitely wasn’t up. Lucy probably wouldn’t be either. I stood there for a moment longer before deciding to head back to my place. Shower, stretch, take my meds. Try to feel like someone capable of handling a full day of adulting.

By 8:30, I had managed it. Mostly. My hair was damp, my knee was taped and braced, and I’d done the stretches Dr. Thompson insisted on, even though they still felt pointless. The painkillers had kicked in, and I had just enough energy to start a to-do list:

Groceries. Unpack. Figure out where the hell a couch goes. Try not to cry about how bad I was at interior design.

I was halfway through scribbling down Find real food (no more pizza) when there was a knock at the door.

Mina stood there in a puffer vest, hair spiked every which way, holding out a steaming travel mug like it was an offering. “Morning. You live.”

I took the coffee with both hands. “Bless you.”

She pushed her way inside like she belonged there—and honestly, she sort of did now. “Ready for some chaos?”

“You’re a morning person,” I said, not quite accusing, but close.

“I’m an anytime person,” she said cheerfully. “You’ll learn to adapt. So. What’s the plan?”

I handed her the list.

“Furniture delivery at nine. Then unboxing. Then... Target?”

Mina studied the list with the focus of someone preparing for battle. “This is light work. You’ll be fully settled by sundown.”

She dropped onto the floor and whipped a notebook from her bag. Before I could blink, she was sketching out a floor plan, complete with boxes labeled “COUCH” and “TV?” and arrows noting things like natural light flow and ideal throw blanket zones.

I stood above her, blinking. “Is this normal behavior?”

“For me? Absolutely,” she said without looking up. “Trust the process.”

The furniture guys arrived just before nine. Mina sprang into action, directing traffic like she was born to manage chaos. She didn’t even glance at her phone, just pointed and ordered and thanked them all with charm turned up to eleven. The movers didn’t stand a chance.

For once, something in my life was going... weirdly well.

Boxes had arrived on time. The movers had only dinged the wall once. And now, for the first time since I left Nevada, I had furniture that wasn’t a yoga mat or a borrowed couch. It felt surreal. Like maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to settle.

Mina, however, looked personally offended by the number of boxes stacked in my living room.

“That’s it?” she asked, one eyebrow raised as she scanned the pile like she was waiting for a second shipment to roll in.

“Yep,” I said, leaning against the counter and sipping the lukewarm coffee she’d brought me. “That’s the grand total.”

She stared at the labels like they’d betrayed her. “‘Books,’ ‘Books,’ ‘Books,’ ‘Kitchen,’ ‘Miscellaneous,’ and—oh look—‘More Books.’ Y/N, I’m gonna say something radical: you don’t own enough crap.”

I shrugged. “Less stuff, less mess.”

She blinked. “That is objectively false, but okay.”

“I travel light.”

“You travel like a monk,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “Even Taehyung’s freshman dorm room had more personality, and that boy decorated with thumbtacks and gas station signs.”

I snorted. “I can literally see the gears turning in your head. Just... please. Let’s focus on the basics before you start planning a ‘vision’ for the apartment.”

Mina lifted both hands in mock surrender. “Fine. But we will be revisiting this. I refuse to let you live in a space that screams ‘mid-2000s divorcee who owns a futon and a single pan.’”

“You’ve known me for fifteen hours,” I pointed out.

“And in fifteen more, I’ll have completely restructured your life,” she said, beaming. “This is just the soft launch.”

“This is you holding back?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Isn’t it terrifying?” she said sweetly. “Now grab your list—we’re going shopping.”

I moved toward the entry table and grabbed the notebook I’d scribbled on that morning. “Just a heads-up, I don’t have my car yet. It’s still at the dealership getting the tires replaced.”

Mina didn’t even blink. “No problem. I’ll be your chauffeur. I insist, actually.”

“You’re really committing to this whole sidekick role.”

“Oh no,” she said, unlocking her phone with a flourish. “You’re the sidekick. I’m the eccentric lead with a heart of gold.”

She fired off a text, then made a call so fast I didn’t even catch who she was dialing until I heard her say, “Jimin? Babe, question—can we borrow your truck for the afternoon? Y/N has the cargo capacity of a shoebox and we’re going to Super Target.”

A pause.

“Thank you! Love you. I’ll wash it before we return it.”

Another pause.

“Okay, you wash it then. Delegation is a skill.”

She hung up and turned to me like nothing had happened. “We’re good. He left the keys under the flowerpot.”

Fifteen minutes later, I was clinging to the door handle of Mina’s blindingly yellow Porsche as she maneuvered through downtown traffic like she was being chased in an action movie. She drove like someone who thought stop signs were optional and speed limits were more of a friendly suggestion.

“Do you... drive like this with everyone?” I asked, voice tight.

She flashed a grin. “Sometimes. There's a reason Jimin doesn't let me hold the keys most of the time.”

By the time we screeched into Jimin’s driveway, I’d made at least three desperate mental promises to become a better person if I lived to see the afternoon.

We swapped cars—Mina took the driver’s seat of Jimin’s much more reasonable pickup like she owned it, adjusting the mirrors and setting her phone to Bluetooth before I even closed the passenger door.

“You know,” I said, finally exhaling, “this already feels like a full day.”

“Oh honey,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder as she backed out, “we haven’t even begun.”

Two hours and three shopping carts later, I came to two very solid conclusions:

One—Mina was a force of nature and should never be allowed in a Super Target unsupervised.

Two—I actually kind of adored her.

She wasn’t just energetic. She was unstoppable. She flitted from aisle to aisle like a whirlwind, throwing things into the cart with the confidence of someone who truly believed in her choices—an area in which I had very little experience. A full-length mirror. Bath towels that were “the perfect neutral.” A utensil drawer organizer, which she insisted was non-negotiable.

“You’ll thank me when you’re not stabbing yourself with a rogue whisk,” she said, tossing it into the cart.

I, on the other hand, moved slower. I hesitated over cereal brands and stared too long at trash cans. I felt the need to justify every purchase—do I need this? will I use it? is it too much?

Mina didn’t ask. She just filled the space with warmth and commentary and the occasional unsolicited recommendation for scented candles.

“This one smells like baked apples. It’s cozy but not try-hard.”

“I’ve literally never bought a candle,” I said, and she stared at me like I’d just confessed to murder.

“Okay, you’re lucky you’re cute because that’s criminal.”

By the time we made it to the checkout, I was leaning heavily on the cart like it was the only thing keeping me upright.

We wheeled our loot through the parking lot, the cold air a slap after the warmth of the store. Mina popped the truck bed and we started loading everything in, box by box.

“You know,” I said, pulling my jacket tighter, “I really didn’t think I’d end up doing any of this today.”

She glanced at me over the tailgate, her breath puffing into the air. “What’d you think you’d be doing?”

“I don’t know. Sitting on the floor. Feeling overwhelmed. Ordering another pizza. Crying, maybe.”

She smirked. “That was the original plan, huh?”

“More or less.”

“Well,” she said, tossing in the last bag, “you still might cry, but now your apartment will have paper towels and a decent shower curtain. Progress.”

As we climbed back into the truck, my phone buzzed with a new text. I didn’t check it right away. I just sat there for a second, watching Mina fiddle with the heat and turn the radio down to a low hum.

It was past noon. I was sore. My knee was aching. And I was completely, utterly exhausted.

“I’m telling you, Y/N,” Mina said, tossing shopping bags into the bed of Jimin’s truck like she was confetti-bombing the neighborhood, “those shirts were a necessity. When something fits that well, you don’t overthink it. You buy it in every color. It’s science.”

I raised an eyebrow, arms crossed, leaning awkwardly against the side of the truck while balancing on my good leg. “I’m pretty sure science has nothing to do with impulse-buying three identical button-ups.”

“They’re not identical,” she said, tossing the last bag in with a flourish. “One’s black. One’s navy. One is... I don’t know, ‘stormy sage’? Fashion is nuanced.”

I looked down at the shirts she was now proudly referring to as if they were designer pieces. Converse button-ups. Cropped. Surprisingly flattering. Cute, yeah. But three of them?

“I don’t even know how you did it,” I said, shaking my head. “I blinked and suddenly we were checking out with thirty more things than I planned, including three shirts I definitely don’t need.”

Mina grinned, hands on her hips. “I’m persuasive. You’ll thank me when those shirts become your entire personality.”

I laughed under my breath. She was impossible. And probably right.

“Fine,” I muttered, cracking the passenger door open. “The shirts are great. But now the gimp requires sustenance.”

“The gimp?” she said, snorting as she walked around to the driver’s side. “You really know how to sell the sympathy angle.”

“I’m just saying, if you don’t feed me soon, I will collapse in the parking lot and you’ll have to explain it to your fiancé.”

She started the engine, still grinning. “How do you feel about Korean food? There’s a spot on the way back that does bibimbap so good it might actually heal you.”

“Perfect,” I said, already daydreaming about something hot and homemade and not packaged in plastic wrap. “Just promise me there’ll be rice. And something spicy. I need to feel alive again.”

“You got it. Spicy, salty, and life-giving. Just like me.”

“Debatable,” I muttered, and she stuck her tongue out as she peeled out of the lot.

The drive back to my place was slower this time—probably because she’d burned off her daily need for chaos at the store. The truck was full to the brim with our haul: paper towels, dish soap, cleaning supplies, a shower curtain Mina swore would "tie the whole bathroom together," and of course, the trio of button-ups that I was already regretting less than I wanted to admit.

Halfway there, Mina launched into an enthusiastic pitch about why Jimin needed to help paint my apartment this weekend.

“The walls are so beige,” she said, one hand gesturing wildly while the other stayed loosely on the wheel. “It’s giving rental. It’s giving dentist’s office. We need warmth. Color. Maybe an accent wall.”

I shot her a look. “I just moved in. I haven’t even figured out where the forks go yet.”

“That’s why you need me,” she said, smiling smugly. “And Jimin. And maybe Taehyung. Although he’s more of a ‘music and snacks’ helper than a ‘holds the ladder’ type.”

“No painting,” I said firmly.

“But—”

“No.”

She sighed, long and dramatic. “Fine. But I’m bringing swatches over. Just so you can think about it.”

“Compromise,” I said, holding up a hand. “I’ll look at swatches. No promises beyond that.”

“Deal. For now.”

By the time we got back to the apartment, the adrenaline had worn off, and we both looked like we’d survived a war. We unloaded the truck one bag at a time, neither of us speaking much, just working in sync. The wind had picked up, slicing through our jackets, numbing our fingers.

The second we got inside, we dumped the grocery bags on the kitchen counters in a completely chaotic pile—frozen pizzas leaning against laundry detergent, cleaning sponges nestled beside a head of lettuce. No one was winning any organizational awards.

We shoved the cold stuff into the fridge in a way that would haunt any dietitian—boba cans, leftover takeout, half a dozen condiments, and nothing resembling a proper meal plan. Then we collapsed on the couch with steaming takeout containers and the kind of hunger that bordered on desperation.

I hobbled over with my box of rice and kimchi stew, trying to navigate the living room without tripping over the legs of the coffee table. My crutch caught on the edge once—then again. And then a third time, jerking my arm forward so hard the lid nearly popped off the container.

“Jesus,” I muttered.

Mina watched from the couch, chopsticks in hand, expression somewhere between entertained and alarmed.

“You okay there, Y/N?”

“I’m about this close to burning these crutches in the parking lot,” I said, gesturing with my free hand and nearly dropping my food in the process. “I swear they’ve gained sentience and are actively working against me.”

Mina bit back a laugh. “You’re over it, huh?”

“So over it.”

I sank onto the couch next to her, balancing the container in my lap, my knee throbbing in protest. “Walking used to be hard enough without props. This is like trying to tightrope across a canyon with ski poles.”

“Well, the good news is: you only have to survive a few more weeks.”

“Three weeks and four days,” I corrected. “Not that I’m counting.”

“Of course not.”

She passed me a can of sparkling water, then flipped on the TV, scrolling past half a dozen crime dramas before settling on something soft and slow—a cooking competition where everyone was too nice to be entertaining but too charming to turn off.

After lunch, Mina disappeared into the glossy pages of a wedding magazine she’d snagged from the mail pile, her fingers flipping through dresses and flower arrangements with laser focus. It was the first real lull in hours. No furniture to move. No errands to run. No decorating debates to lose.

I curled up on the far end of the couch, stretching out slowly, carefully—testing how far my knee would let me go without complaint. I exhaled, head leaning back against the cushion, and let the silence settle around me like warm water.

And of course, the second my brain had the space, it wandered right back to Jungkook.

I barely knew anything about him. Not his last name, not what he did, not whether he liked cats or had siblings or believed in fate. All I really had was a twenty-minute interaction at baggage claim and the way his name had sounded when he said it—low, warm, almost shy.

Still, I kept replaying it. The way he looked at me. The way he said my name like it was something he wanted to remember. It wasn’t dramatic, and yet... it stuck.

Ridiculous. But also kind of undeniable.

He was impossibly good-looking, yeah. The kind of good-looking that made you glance twice without meaning to. But it wasn’t just that. It was how he moved, how he listened. How he’d reached for my hand like it wasn’t even a decision, just instinct. There was something about him that had made the world feel quieter for a moment. Lighter. Less sharp around the edges.

And now, here I was, replaying it like some girl in a coming-of-age novel. Like I didn’t have more pressing things to worry about. Groceries. Doctor’s appointments. Building a life from scratch.

Bronx. Tuesday nights.

He’d said it like a suggestion. Easy. Offhand. But it hadn’t felt offhand. Not to me.

Could I actually go?

Part of me wanted to. Just to see if that strange, electric hum would still be there. To see if I’d imagined it. To see him again and maybe say something smarter this time.

But then there was the other part—the louder, older part of me that had spent years learning how to protect itself. That part was already rehearsing the excuses. Maybe he was just being friendly. Maybe he said that to everyone. Maybe it wasn’t an invitation at all, just a casual, polite mention of a bar he happened to like.

But then again... why mention Tuesday? People don’t give you days unless they want you to show up.

I sighed, tilting my head back and staring at the ceiling like it might hold some answers. If this were a song—some cheesy country track—you’d just check a box. Yes or no. Done. Simple.

But life wasn’t simple. Not for me. Not for anyone, probably, but especially not for someone who’d spent most of their teenage years building routines instead of relationships. Who’d been taught that attention had to be earned. That being wanted came with strings.

Even now, the idea of someone like him being interested in someone like me felt... farfetched. I couldn’t even picture it without flinching a little. Not because I didn’t want it. But because I didn’t know what I’d do if it was real.

Before I could sink deeper into my overthinking, Mina’s phone exploded with a series of high-pitched tones that could only mean one thing: bridal emergency.

She groaned, already reaching for it as she stood up, balancing her plate in one hand and pressing the phone to her ear with the other. “What now?” she muttered, then rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. I’m coming.”

She turned to me as she shoved her feet back into her boots. “Promise me you won’t touch anything while I’m gone. That includes trying to alphabetize your books or reorganize the pantry. Lucy and I will help you tackle the mess later.”

I raised my hands like a suspect in a crime show. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She pointed at me like she wasn’t entirely convinced, then turned toward the door. “Back soon. Don’t burn the place down.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Then she was gone, already halfway through a conversation before the door even clicked shut behind her.

The quiet that followed was different than before—thicker, somehow. Not empty, just... still. The only sounds were the hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the building settling around me.

I looked around the room, at the shopping bags still stacked near the kitchen, the unopened boxes lined up against the wall. The place was technically furnished now, but it didn’t feel lived in yet. It still felt like a set waiting for someone to walk onstage and make it real.

I didn’t have the energy to try.

Instead, I let myself sink deeper into the couch, pulled my phone from my pocket, and scrolled to a playlist that always helped me think—instrumentals, soft indie stuff, a few moody movie scores that reminded me of long drives and late-night practices.

I popped in my earbuds and hit shuffle. The music slipped into my ears like a sigh, wrapping around my tired thoughts and pulling me under.

And then, somewhere between the second and third song, I closed my eyes.

I managed to avoid Mina for two full days—an impressive feat, considering she lived across the hall and had the persistence of a golden retriever with a tennis ball. Jet lag and my still-aching knee made the perfect excuse. I leaned hard into both.

But Saturday morning came, and so did Mina—arms full of coffee, muffins, and what she proudly announced as a “battle plan.”

“Today,” she declared, kicking my door open like she owned the place, “is Divine Design Day.”

I blinked at her from the couch, where I’d been trying to read through a headache and ignore the existence of daylight. “Is that a real thing, or are you just making up reasons to rearrange my life again?”

“Both,” she chirped, setting down the coffee with the precision of someone used to delivering caffeine with urgency. “And don’t even try to wiggle out of it. The reinforcements are already on their way. Jimin and Taehyung will be here by ten sharp. Painting, organizing, general transformation of your sad little loft—consider it handled.”

I groaned, flopping my head back against the cushion. “Can’t we just live in the mess for a few more days? I haven't even decided if you could paint, yet.”

“Nope. Inspiration waits for no one. Plus, you’re lucky. If you’d given me one more day, I would’ve started mood-boarding your whole apartment.”

There was a part of me that wanted to protest, but... another part that was curious. She and Lucy had been hyping these guys up for days, and I hadn’t exactly met many people since moving in. Still, the thought of spending a whole day with strangers—loud, close-knit, apparently good-looking ones—made me wish I had more than half a muffin’s worth of energy.

“Wasn’t Jungkook supposed to be part of this decorating army?” I asked casually. I would like to meet both of her bothers. She talks about them so much it felt like I knew them personally.

Mina made a face. “Took a hit last night during the game. Spent the morning with the team doctor. He’s fine, but they’re keeping him out of practice for a few days.”

I’d heard the game through the walls—cheers, shouting, cursing, more cheering. Mina and Lucy had invited me to watch with them, but I’d passed. Something about crowds, even just two people shouting at a TV, still made me feel uneasy. I’d curled up with a book instead, but the next morning’s dramatic play-by-play had made me regret it a little. It had sounded... fun. Loud, chaotic, communal. The kind of thing I’d never had much of.

“Alright,” Mina clapped, snapping me back to the present. “Let’s hit Home Depot before the guys show up.”

I glanced down at my knee, already aching from the mild activity of existing. “Can’t Lucy come with us? She’s the one who probably cares whether my walls are ‘cool gray’ or ‘ash cloud.’”

Mina rolled her eyes. “She threatened to spike my coffee if I woke her before nine. So, no. You’re stuck with me. And you just said paint is fine, so I can assure you grey is out of the question.”

I sighed and started gathering my things—wallet, phone, crutches. “Just promise me you won’t go overboard. I don’t want this place ending up looking like an HGTV fever dream.”

“You wound me.” Mina held a hand to her chest in mock offense. Then, smiling mischievously, added, “But okay, compromise: you get veto power. Use it wisely.”

We took Lucy’s BMW since Mina’s Porsche could barely fit two people and a purse. As I awkwardly hoisted myself into the passenger seat, I muttered, “I still need to pick up my car. It’s just sitting at the dealership.”

“Hard pass,” Mina said, already pulling out of the lot. “You’re not driving until you’re off those crutches. And possibly not even then.”

“I’ve got a new doctor. Appointment’s Monday. Dr. Jeon.”

Mina nearly swerved. “My dad? You’re seeing my dad?”

I blinked. “...Did you not think to mention your last name?”

“I guess not?” she laughed, shaking her head. “Oh my god. This is perfect. You’re in good hands. He’s basically the unofficial Red Wings physician. He’s fixed more joints than a mechanic.”

“That’s comforting,” I muttered, feeling strangely reassured.

Home Depot was a blur of color swatches, paint samples, and Mina flitting between aisles like a woman on a mission. She had a clipboard. She was terrifying and weirdly efficient and somehow made it through the whole trip without spilling coffee on her all-white outfit.

I couldn’t lie—by the time we checked out, some part of me was genuinely excited. The thought of my walls not looking like the inside of a beige envelope had its appeal.

When we pulled up to the building, Jimin’s truck was already there, parked next to a rugged Jeep that looked like it had seen actual mountains.

“Right on time,” Mina said, sliding her sunglasses into her hair. She pulled out her phone. “I’ll call the guys. And no, Y/N, you’re not allowed to feel guilty. You’re not lifting a finger.”

“I wasn’t going to,” I said, holding up my hands.

“You weren’t,” she said sweetly, “but I know you. You hate asking for help. Tough. Today, you get to sit there and be adorable while other people carry your heavy stuff.”

“Your dad’s my doctor, not you,” I shot back, and she just winked as she dialed.

“We’re here. Come get the stuff,” she barked into the phone, then ended the call without waiting for a reply.

A few minutes later, Lucy came strolling down the front steps, looking completely put together despite just waking up. Behind her were two guys. I recognized Jimin from Mina's lockscreen—dark hair, lean and strong, with easy confidence and a smile that lit up his whole face. The other was taller, leaner, but still broad. He moved with this lazy grace, like the world would move around him if he waited long enough.

Mina launched herself at Jimin before he made it halfway up the sidewalk, and he caught her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The taller guy—Taehyung, I assumed—was already slinging bags of paint out of the backseat like they weighed nothing. His arm was around Lucy’s shoulders, and he had a grin that looked both infuriating and charming.

He gave me a once-over as Lucy led him over.

“So, you’re the new recruit, huh?” he said, voice warm and teasing.

“That’s me,” I said, returning his smile. “Fresh out of basic training.”

“I like her,” he said to Lucy. “She’s got good banter. Can we keep her?”

“Only if you behave,” Lucy muttered, elbowing him.

He noticed the crutches next, his brow lifting.

“What’s with the wingmen?” he asked, nodding toward them.

I blinked. “The what?”

“The crutches,” he grinned. “Your wingmen. Not very discreet, but I respect the commitment.”

“Oh. Sports injury,” I said, half-laughing.

“Ah,” he said, then mock-whispered to Lucy, “I don’t know. She doesn’t look like she can keep up.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Keep pushing it and I’ll replace you.”

Taehyung turned back to me, grinning like a kid with a secret. “Tell you what—I’ll carry you, and Jimin can handle the actual work.”

And before I could respond, he bent and scooped me up like it was nothing. My crutches clattered to the sidewalk, and I let out a yelp somewhere between startled and outraged.

“Taehyung!” Mina shrieked, rushing over. “She’s injured! You can’t just scoop people like produce!”

“She’s tiny,” he said, unbothered. “And I’m gentle.” He looked down at me, still holding me like a rom-com cover. “You don’t mind, right?”

Still processing the fact that I was somehow four feet off the ground in the arms of a complete stranger, I blinked at Taehyung, unsure whether I should laugh, scream, or demand a refund from the universe. But instead—because apparently my brain had no interest in logic—I nodded.

“Uh... sure, Taehyung,” I muttered, my voice wobbling somewhere between confusion and reluctant amusement.

He grinned like I’d just handed him a gold medal. “See? Knew I liked you.” Then, louder, over his shoulder, “Y/N’s my homegirl now. No take-backs.”

Lucy snorted. “Oh, you know it, G,” she said, like this all made perfect sense. Like a guy carrying a semi-stranger across a parking lot was completely standard behavior.

Still on Taehyung’s back—because why not—I caught sight of Jimin approaching, a lazy smile playing at the corners of his mouth like he’d seen this happen before. Which, honestly, he probably had.

He reached out a hand to me, his voice warm and soft. “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” he said, and it wasn’t just politeness. There was something about the way he looked at people—steady, kind—that made you feel like you could take a full breath around him.

I adjusted my arm and leaned forward just enough to shake his hand, my own awkwardness bubbling at the edges. But there was something about him—maybe the calm in his eyes, maybe the way he didn’t flinch or rush—that made it easier than I expected.

“Thanks,” I said, managing a smile. “You must be the sane one.”

“God, I hope not,” he replied with a soft laugh. “But I *am* the quiet one. You’ll get used to these lunatics. Eventually.”

“I’m starting to think I don’t have a choice,” I said.

Before I could say anything else, Mina’s voice cracked through the moment like a starter pistol.

“Alright, enough with the welcome parade!” she barked, clapping her hands. “We’re not here to flirt—we’re here to work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jimin said with a mock salute before peeling off toward the truck to start grabbing paint supplies.

I shifted awkwardly on Taehyung’s back. “Okay. Time to put me down now.”

“Nope,” he said, the word sharp and final, like we’d made a legally binding agreement. “I said I’m carrying you in, and I meant it.”

“I have legs,” I pointed out. “At least, technically.”

“And I have arms,” he replied cheerfully. “So really, this works out for both of us.”

“You’re seriously carrying me and the paint?” I asked as he reached for a box without a hint of effort.

Taehyung didn’t even look at me. “Multitasking is a lifestyle.”

I sighed. “Can someone at least grab my crutches?”

“Lucy!” he called. “Get Goose and Maverick, will you?”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t ask for clarification. Just bent down to collect them with a kind of long-suffering patience that told me this wasn’t the first time she’d played interpreter for him.

“Goose and Maverick?” I asked, giving him a sidelong glance. “Really?”

He looked at me like I was the one missing something. “They’re your wingmen. You literally can’t take off without them.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’ve been told,” he said, grinning. “Repeatedly. But people still keep me around, so I must be doing something right.”

By the time we made it up to my apartment—me, Taehyung, the paint, and my dignity all jostling for space—I had stopped trying to argue. It wasn’t worth it. And, if I was honest with myself, there was something kind of... nice about it. Not being in control. Being carried, even if it was chaotic and borderline absurd. It was the kind of closeness I wasn’t used to, the kind I usually deflected with a joke or a polite smile.

Inside, the rest of the crew filed in behind us, arms full of supplies. Mina immediately took over like she was hosting her own HGTV show, issuing orders about where tarps should go and what walls needed taping. Jimin unpacked the brushes with surgical precision. Lucy cued up a playlist. Taehyung, still carrying me like some kind of absurd prince, finally set me down gently on the couch.

“There,” he said, dusting off his hands dramatically. “Safe delivery. No scratches.”

I adjusted my brace and flexed my knee. “Do I get to rate you on the app?”

He grinned. “Only if I get five stars.”

“You get four,” I said, deadpan. “Docked a point for dramatics.”

Taehyung gasped. “Rude.”

Mina leaned over, handed me a muffin from the tray she'd brought earlier. “Don’t feed the monster. He thrives on attention.”

“He thrives on being carried in song,” Lucy said, tossing him a paintbrush. “Start with the baseboards, Prince Charming.”

The room hummed with laughter and easy movement, brushes unwrapped, music starting low in the background. It didn’t feel like a decorating day—it felt like some strange, spontaneous little family had formed inside my apartment. No one was looking at me like I was fragile. No one was asking for anything. And I hadn’t laughed this much in... I didn’t even know how long.

Somewhere between the paint fumes and the dance breaks, something inside me softened. My body still hurt, sure, but my chest didn’t feel quite as tight. The anxiety that usually sat behind my ribs had, at least for now, gone quiet. And I realized that I was smiling.

As the afternoon wore on, it became increasingly clear that this wasn’t just about paint and furniture. It was something else entirely.

It was friendship. It was kindness.

They didn’t say it aloud, but I could feel it in the way they handed me brushes without hesitation, the way Lucy made sure there was music playing that I might like, the way Jimin quietly rearranged a chair so I could get through on my crutches without asking. This was how they welcomed people in—not with big gestures or declarations, but through movement. Through presence. Through effort.

And they didn’t seem to need anything in return.

By lunchtime, I’d made Taehyung laugh so hard he nearly dropped his roller. I’d tossed out a sarcastic one-liner that had Lucy wheezing. Mina had crowned me “queen of passive-aggressive commentary,” and I didn’t even flinch when Jimin tried to nickname my crutches again. The air was warm with paint fumes and music and the kind of easy conversation that comes when no one’s trying too hard.

For the first time in a while, I wasn’t just reacting. I was participating. I was letting people in.

By late afternoon, the loft had started to change—walls no longer blank, corners no longer empty. It wasn’t just a space anymore; it was starting to look like a home. One I could actually picture living in. Unpacking didn’t feel like a task to avoid now—it felt like a step forward.

So I started with what I knew: books.

Jimin carried the boxes over, stacking them carefully by the shelves. “These yours?” he asked with a crooked smile, already knowing the answer.

I nodded. “My version of comfort food.”

He grinned. “Respect.”

I opened the first box, and the scent hit me instantly—familiar, musty in a good way. The smell of ink and paper, of nights spent in bed with a flashlight and early mornings tucked into the corner of rinks. These books had followed me everywhere—Nevada, Colorado, hotel rooms, off-seasons, injuries, airports. They were mine. And in a way, they were the only thing that had ever really stayed.

I sat on the floor, carefully stacking them by genre and alphabetically—because of course I did—and let myself get lost in the quiet comfort of order.

Until Mina’s voice rang out from the living room.

“Hey, Y/N,” she called, tone casual. “Do you want us to start unpacking these other boxes? The paint’s dry in here.”

I glanced up from the shelf. “Yeah, go ahead. They should just be boring essentials.”

“One’s labeled ‘Miscellaneous,’” she said, “and the other... has no label.”

I frowned. “That’s weird. I thought I got everything.”

“You want me to open the mystery box?” she asked, and I could already hear the curiosity revving like an engine.

“Sure,” I said, distracted as I slid a copy of The Secret History into place. “It’s probably just chargers or socks or something.”

Then came the sound of tape being torn back—followed by a sharp, high-pitched squeal that nearly knocked me sideways.

“Mina,” I groaned, setting down the next book, “are you trying to communicate with bats?”

No answer. Instead, a second later, her head popped around the corner, eyes wide, smile even wider. That look she got when she was seconds away from chaos.

“What?” I asked, already bracing myself.

She strutted into the room like a cat who’d just dragged in a very shiny mouse. In her hands was something rectangular and gleaming.

And the second I saw it, my stomach dropped.

The plaque.

The one with my name on it, etched in gold under the words Olympic Silver Medalist – 2020.

It glinted in the late afternoon light like it had been waiting for its cue.

“Oh my god,” I muttered, the back of my neck prickling. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Mina beamed. “Explain.”

“I—where did you even find that?”

She held it up like it was an award she’d won. “In the unmarked box. Along with a lot of other sparkly surprises.”

Of course. Thanks, Emily, I thought bitterly. Who else would’ve made sure that box made the journey, whether I wanted it to or not?

Mina looked like a detective who had just cracked a very personal case. She wasn’t smug, exactly—more amused. Intrigued. Like she’d found the missing puzzle piece to a picture she didn’t know was incomplete.

“So, care to tell me why you’ve been living in my building for days without mentioning that you, I don’t know, competed in the freaking Olympics?”

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. I could feel the heat crawling up my throat. I wasn’t embarrassed, exactly—but I wasn’t ready either. Not for this. Not yet.

“I was going to tell you,” I muttered. “Eventually. It just... didn’t come up.”

“Didn’t come up?” she echoed, laughing. “Y/N, this isn’t like forgetting to mention you’ve been to Italy. You were on a cereal box.”

I flinched. “Only once.”

She waved the plaque again. “You medaled. At the Olympics. And I’m your friend. Friends share things like this.”

“I know,” I said, my voice quieter now. “I know. I just... liked that you didn’t know. That for once, I wasn’t the skater or the medalist or Emily’s daughter. I was just... me.”

Mina’s face softened. She lowered the plaque.

“Okay,” she said gently. “That I get.”

I exhaled slowly. “It’s not that I’m ashamed. I’m not. It’s just—when people find out, everything shifts. They treat you different. They expect something. Or they think they know who you are. I didn’t want to start off like that.”

She nodded, sitting beside me on the floor. “And now that the cat’s out of the box?”

I gave her a sideways look. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

She grinned. “Anytime.”

I hesitated. “Does it... change anything?”

Mina nudged me with her shoulder. “You think a medal’s gonna scare me off? Please. If anything, it just makes you more interesting. Besides, Jimin and Taehyung probably don’t even know how figure skating works. You’re safe.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

She reached back into the box and pulled out more relics—photos, laminated programs, a couple of medals, and even a few old costumes, sequins still clinging to the fabric.

One had a note pinned to it. My mother’s handwriting, Just in case. I stared at it for a beat.

“Subtle, Emily. Real subtle.”

“Who’s Emily?” Mina asked, peering over my shoulder.

“My mom.”

Mina picked up one of the magazines from the box, the glossy cover catching the light, my teenage face frozen in mid-spin, smiling in a way I barely remembered. She turned it over in her hands like it might explain something if she looked long enough.

“So...” she said slowly, almost gently. “I’m guessing you didn’t pack all this yourself?”

I shook my head. “Not even close.”

She looked up, eyebrows raised.

“I left all my skating stuff back in Vegas,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, like it wasn’t a topic I still hadn’t fully figured out how to talk about. “But Emily has her own ideas. She thought I might need a little ‘reminder’ of who I am.”

“Or, like... a museum exhibit’s worth of reminders,” Mina muttered, holding up one of my old costumes. It shimmered in the afternoon light, all rhinestones and careful stitching.

I reached for it instinctively, my fingers brushing the fabric like it might sting. “I didn’t want this here. Any of it, really. I’m not even sure if I’ll ever skate again, so... why surround myself with sequins and medals and expectations, you know?”

Mina’s smile faded. She set the costume down and placed a warm hand on my knee, her touch gentle. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly, even though it wasn’t. “I just didn’t expect to see all of this again. Not now.”

We sat there quietly for a moment. Not awkward—just still. Her hand stayed on my knee, grounding me while my thoughts spun. I looked around the room, suddenly aware of how surreal it felt to be surrounded by my past in the middle of what was supposed to be my fresh start.

“She thinks I’m being dramatic,” I added after a beat, voice quieter. “That this injury is just a bump. That I should already be back on the ice, training. That I’m wasting time.”

Mina frowned. “But you’re recovering from surgery. Doesn’t she know what the doctors said?”

“Emily only hears what fits the version of reality she wants,” I said, with a dry laugh. “And her version doesn’t include me being uncertain or scared or... done.”

“She’s insane,” Mina said flatly. “You don’t just bounce back from something like this because someone else decides you should.”

“Yeah, well... she’s been pushing since I was little. It’s what she does. I think she believes if she just shoves enough glitter at me, I’ll snap out of whatever this is and turn back into the girl she remembers.”

Mina leaned back, still watching me like she was trying to figure out how to carry some of the weight I’d just handed her. “Well, screw that. Whatever version of you is here now? That’s the one we’re rooting for.”

I smiled, feeling something in my chest ease. “Thanks. I’m not really great at this whole... emotional honesty thing.”

“Please,” she said, scoffing playfully. “I grew up with three brothers and a father who thinks hugs are a form of weakness. This is practically therapy compared to that.”

I laughed, a real one this time. “I’m really glad I met you.”

Mina grinned and bumped her knee against mine. “Same. And just so we’re clear, we’re not just friends, Y/N. We’re best friends. You’re stuck with me.”

I bumped her back. “Best friends it is.”

We sat like that for a while, surrounded by old photos, forgotten trophies, and glittering ghosts of the life I’d been trying to leave behind. And for the first time, it didn’t feel suffocating. It just felt... like part of the story. One I didn’t have to erase to move forward.

Just then, Lucy’s voice called out from the back room.

“Hey, lazy bums! Are you two just gonna lie around while we do all the work?”

“Yep, that was the plan,” Mina called back immediately, not missing a beat.

“Sounds good to me,” I added, smirking.

Lucy appeared in the doorway a second later, a paint roller in hand and a grin on her face. She flopped onto the floor beside us, stretching out like she hadn’t just spent the last hour painting trim.

“Well, if you’re being lazy, I might as well join you,” she said, wiping her hands on her jeans.

Mina turned toward her with a sly look. “So, Lucy. Did you know Y/N here is a certified Olympic figure skater?”

Lucy’s brows shot up for half a second before she shrugged like someone had just told her I was good at baking.

“No shit? I knew your name sounded familiar.” She looked me over with a nod, like it all made sense now. “That’s pretty badass.”

I blinked. “You’re really not fazed by this, are you?”

“Nah,” she said, lying back on her elbows. “You kinda give off badass energy even without the medal. The glitter just confirms it.”

“Seriously,” Mina added, rolling onto her stomach, chin in her hand. “The things you can do with your legs—I’m just saying, if I had that kind of flexibility, Jimin wouldn’t let me out of the bedroom.”

I groaned, covering my face. “Mina.”

“What?” she said, unrepentant. “It’s true.”

Lucy smirked. “She’s not wrong. I mean, flexibility like that? You could probably win gold medals in other areas.”

“Wow, thanks for the visual,” I muttered, face burning as I tried to redirect my attention to literally anything else.

“Not for me, you dork. For guys. The one's you'd want to attract in this scenario.”

I forced a laugh, trying not to let the heat rising in my chest show. “Well, I wouldn’t really know.”

There was a pause.

Mina blinked. “Wait. Are you saying... like wouldn’t know, wouldn’t know?”

I stared at her, then stood abruptly, heart thudding. “Okay! That’s definitely enough over-sharing for one afternoon.”

“No way,” Mina said, sitting upright, eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you—Y/N. Are you a virgin?”

The word hit the air like a firework, and I froze, eyes darting toward the window like I might escape through it.

“Mina,” I hissed, “could we not announce it to the world?”

She looked more shocked than judgmental, which helped, but only slightly.

Lucy didn’t say anything at first. She just looked at me—really looked—her expression softening into something that felt neither surprised nor judgmental. Just... curious. Thoughtful. Then she shrugged.

“Honestly?” she said, voice even. “Kind of refreshing.”

I blinked. “Sorry—what?”

She leaned back onto her elbows like this was the most casual conversation in the world. “It took me a while, too. I didn’t have sex until I was twenty-one. And even then, I felt behind. Like everyone else was speaking some language I hadn’t learned yet.” She paused, her mouth quirking up at the edges. “But it turns out most of them were just faking fluency.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Huh.”

“Seriously,” she added. “You’re not weird. And it doesn’t say anything about who you are or what you’ve done or how together your life is. It just... is.”

That’s the thing about Lucy. She said what she meant, then gave you room to sit with it. I wasn’t used to that. Most people either tried to fix things or pretended they didn’t matter. But she just let it hang there, uncomplicated.

Mina, on the other hand, was already recovering from her shock with the energy of someone who’d just discovered a juicy plot twist. She grinned and grabbed the nearest throw pillow, launching it in my direction. “Okay, okay, we’ll drop it—for now. But just so you know, this is absolutely going on the future girl's night conversation list.”

I ducked the pillow with half a laugh. “Do you guys always interrogate your friends like this?”

“Only the ones we like,” Mina said sweetly.

“Pillow fights optional,” I muttered as I stood and made my way toward the kitchen, mostly for an excuse to breathe.

“No secrets between best friends, Y/N!” Mina called after me, her voice lilting with dramatic flair. “We’re basically emotional archaeologists. We will uncover every layer.”

I opened the fridge door just to have something between us, gripping a bottle of water like it might offer emotional protection. The cool air hit my face, and for a second, I just stood there, letting it settle my thoughts.

The truth was, I hadn’t meant to say anything. Not really. The words had just come out—too fast, too raw. But instead of judgment or awkwardness, I’d been met with honesty. Warmth. A kind of acceptance that didn’t require explanations or apologies. And maybe I wasn’t used to that. But standing there, with their voices still drifting in from the living room and laughter bubbling up again like nothing had shifted—I realized I didn’t really want to hide anymore.

Monday morning arrived dark and quiet, the kind of morning where the sky barely bothered to shift from night. I woke up before my alarm, as I usually did, but this time I didn’t rush to the kitchen or swing into a stretching routine. I stayed exactly where I was—wrapped in a cocoon of downy pillows Mina had sworn were “life-changing.”

I wasn’t sure they’d changed my life, but for once, staying in bed didn’t feel like avoidance. It just felt... necessary. Today mattered. More than I wanted to admit out loud.

It was the kind of day that split a timeline. Before. After. The day everything might shift—one way or another. My first appointment with Dr. Jeon. A new specialist. A new city. A new shot at figuring out what came next. Or maybe just confirmation of what I was afraid to say out loud. I wasn't sure if I was ready for this to be over or not.

Back in Vegas, Dr. Banerjee had tried to be gentle, but his words had still landed like punches. He’d told me not to count on a full recovery. Not to get my hopes up. Emily, of course, had immediately decided he was being negative. She was convinced I was dragging things out. Playing the victim. Acting fragile for attention.

And the worst part? Some days, I almost believed her. Was I being dramatic? Was I just afraid of the truth?

I threw off the covers and sat up slowly, stretching my arms over my head before bending into my usual warm-up—first the good leg, then the bad. My knee felt tight, but not terrible. There was a faint ache, sure, but I’d woken up to worse. It wasn’t a sharp pain, at least, and I could still move with control. That was something.

I stood carefully and tested my balance. No major complaints from my joints. A small flicker of hope lit up in my chest, tentative and trembling. It had been so long since I let myself hope. Too long.

I moved into deeper stretches, more out of habit than optimism, and felt a twinge of pride when I realized I was still flexible. Still strong. The months off the ice hadn’t erased all of it. The grace was still in me somewhere, buried under layers of doubt and bruised confidence.

For a second, I let myself imagine it—spinning again, arms lifted, back arched. Spirals on clean, untouched ice. The moment where the world went quiet and I felt like I could breathe. I missed that feeling more than I knew how to say.

The first couple of weeks after the surgery had been a strange kind of relief. I wasn’t training, I wasn’t performing, I wasn’t pushing. It was the first time in years that no one expected anything from me. I sank into it like a vacation I hadn’t realized I needed—reading entire novels in one sitting, binge-watching trashy reality shows, eating grilled cheese at two in the morning just because I could. But it didn’t last.

By the time mid-December rolled around, the stillness stopped feeling restful and started to feel like a weight I couldn’t shake. Emily noticed before I did and took it as an excuse to “intervene.” She hauled me back to the rink, under the pretense of helping me “reconnect” with my roots. What she meant was: prove you’re still useful. Prove you’re still capable. Prove this wasn’t a waste.

She stood at the edge of the boards like a judge with a stopwatch. I hadn’t even taken five steps before my knee buckled and I fell. Flat. In front of Yoongi. In front of the kids who used to look up to me. That was the last time I let her drag me there.

It didn’t stop her from trying, of course. Emily didn’t believe in stillness. She believed in productivity, in motion, in proving people wrong—even if those people were her own daughter.

She had me “consult” with Yoongi for weeks after, pretending it was useful. But all I did was sit at the rink, freezing and frustrated, trying to pretend I wasn’t quietly unraveling. That’s when the idea of leaving started to feel like more than a fantasy.

Dr. Banerjee had mentioned specialists in Michigan who had worked with athletes recovering from similar injuries. I clung to the idea like a lifeline. If I was going to make a decision—if I was going to have any chance at figuring out whether skating was still possible—I needed space. I needed air. Emily wouldn’t give it to me, so I had to take it.

She hadn’t liked the idea of me leaving Vegas. Said it was impulsive. Said it was a waste. But when she realized I wasn’t going to budge, she pivoted to control in the way she always did—organizing everything from five hundred miles away.

She found the apartment, bought the car, booked the appointment. She made the calls, set the schedule, tried to package my new life like it was her idea. I let her. I didn’t care who pulled the strings as long as it got me on a plane and out of that house. And now... here I was. In a new city. In a quiet apartment with half-painted walls and friends I hadn’t known I needed until I found them. I still didn’t know exactly what I was doing.

I got ready slowly, moving through the motions with mechanical care—shower, dry my hair, jeans, a soft navy sweater. Something neutral. Something that wouldn’t make me feel like I was trying too hard. The familiar rhythm of routine helped. A little.

I ate a lemon poppy seed muffin while standing at the counter, brushing the crumbs away absently. My mind kept drifting ahead, to the waiting room, to the questions Dr. Jeon might ask. To what he might see when he looked at my scans. Would he see potential? Would he see damage beyond repair?

Would he see me? Was I still Y/N Y/L/N, elite figure skater? Or had I already become someone else—and just hadn’t admitted it yet?

A knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Morning!” Mina’s voice rang out cheerfully before I even made it halfway across the room. The lock clicked, and a moment later, she strolled in like she owned the place—radiant, caffeinated, and entirely too awake for how early it was.

I’d given her a spare key yesterday. Or more accurately, she’d insisted, and I hadn’t come up with a good enough reason to say no.

“Good morning,” I said, my voice lighter than I felt. She floated into the kitchen, grabbing a banana from the counter like it had always belonged to her.

“Happy Lose-the-Crutches Day!” she said, throwing her arms in the air like we were celebrating a national holiday.

“You’re so weird,” I said, shaking my head, but I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

“Oh, come on. You can't tell me you're not excited to ditch your flyboys.” She nodded toward the crutches leaning against the wall. “I’m just saying, maybe with fewer metal limbs, you’ll stop knocking over every piece of furniture in your path.”

“I make no promises,” I said. “I’ve been tripping over thin air since before I could walk.”

“Not your fault,” Mina said breezily, now halfway through the banana. “You were born to glide. Gravity doesn’t apply to you unless you're off the ice.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, skeptical.

She met my gaze without flinching. “I’ve seen you skate. It’s like watching something—” she paused, searching for the word, “—weightless. Like you’re built for it.”

I’d heard things like that before, mostly from articles or overzealous fans, but coming from Mina, it felt different. She wasn’t trying to flatter me. She just meant it.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, my throat tightening in that annoying way it did when someone was kind and I didn’t know how to receive it.

Mina grinned again, apparently satisfied. “Come on, babe. Grab Goose and Maverick and let’s roll.”

I rolled my eyes at the names she’d assigned to my crutches—her Top Gun obsession had resurfaced with alarming enthusiasm—but I grabbed them anyway. The sooner this appointment happened, the sooner I’d know if I could finally start moving forward, or if I’d have to figure out how to live with where I was.

We made our way outside, the cold morning air biting at our faces as we slid into her car. She cranked the heat, and the vents roared to life.

“Thanks for driving me,” I said, trying to sound casual, even though my stomach was twisting itself into knots.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” she said, pulling out of the lot. “I don’t mind. Besides, it gives me a reason to stop by the hospital and bug my dad. Makes me look like the responsible child.”

“I’m guessing that’s not a hard title to hold onto.”

“Okay, true,” she said with a laugh. “But I like going there. Seeing him in his element. We’re all so different, my brothers and me. Taehyung’s like this human tank on skates, and Jungkook moves like he was born doing crossovers. But they’ve always had my back. Being the youngest with two protective hockey-playing brothers definitely has its perks.”

I smiled, glad for the distraction. “How’d they end up on the same team? That doesn’t seem like something that just happens.”

“It doesn’t,” she admitted. “Taehyung wasn’t a huge name going into the draft. Scouts overlooked him for years. But then the Red Wings saw him in one showcase game, and that was it. They picked him up late, and it turned out to be one of the smartest moves they ever made. Jungkook came up a year later—he was already on their radar, but I think having Tae here made the decision easier. Plus, hometown brothers? The media eats that up.”

“Guess I’ll need to start brushing up on hockey,” I said, trying to sound more relaxed than I felt. “You know, now that I’m basically related to the Red Wings through you.”

“It’s practically required in Michigan,” she said, flicking her turn signal on. “We don’t mess around about two things here: winter and hockey.”

As we pulled into the hospital parking lot, the familiar knot of anxiety settled lower in my stomach, tight and insistent. This was it. The appointment. The one that might tell me if I had a future in skating—or if I had to start imagining something else entirely.

But the fear wasn’t quite as sharp as it had been in Vegas. Maybe it was the distance from Emily. Maybe it was Mina’s steady presence. Or maybe it was just the quiet sense of possibility that came from being somewhere new.

“You okay?” Mina asked, cutting the engine and turning to me.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But I think I’m ready to find out.”

She nodded. “That’s all you can do.”

We sat there for a beat, the car ticking softly as it cooled. Then Mina, never one to let a moment sit too long, launched into a new story—this time about the Jeons’ childhood road trips to Canada for tournaments, how Jungkook used to get carsick but refused to admit it, and how Taehyung once brought a lizard in his hoodie and didn’t tell anyone until it crawled across Mina’s lap at a border checkpoint.

I laughed, really laughed, and felt something settle in my chest. Not peace, exactly, but something close to it.

Mina’s stories were full of color and warmth, and the more she talked, the more I could picture it—their house full of noise and teasing, her dad coming home in scrubs, her mom in the kitchen, Taehyung trying to sneak snacks upstairs, Jungkook glued to a pair of rollerblades in the driveway. A family that made room for each other. Who didn’t just push, but protected. Who loved out loud. For the first time, I realized how much I’d missed that. Or maybe just never really had it. Not like that, anyway.

I looked out the window at the hospital entrance. Whatever Dr. Jeon had to say, I wasn’t alone walking into it. That mattered more than I ever would’ve guessed.

The front desk was all clean lines and hushed conversations between the receptionists. Signing in felt oddly ceremonial, like I was handing over the last of my denial with the click of a pen. Five minutes later, when the nurse called my name, the nerves that had been quietly simmering suddenly surged to the surface—tight and sharp, crawling up my spine and gripping my chest like a vice.

The exam room was exactly what you’d expect: bland, sterile, steeped in the sharp tang of antiseptic. The cold linoleum sent a chill straight through my sneakers, and I felt it settle in my bones. The nurse was quick and impersonal—height, weight, blood pressure—before she disappeared behind the door with a soft “Doctor will be in shortly.”

I climbed up onto the edge of the exam table, its paper crinkling beneath me, and folded my hands so tightly my fingers went pale. Mina sat in the chair beside me, swinging her foot gently, her presence steady and grounding, but even that couldn’t slow the drumbeat of anxiety pounding through me.

It was ridiculous how fast my heart was racing. I’d stood in the center of Olympic arenas, lights blinding, crowds watching, expectations weighing heavy on every jump and spin. But this was different. This wasn’t about a medal or a score—it was about who I was without all of that. About what I’d have left if the ice was no longer mine.

My foot tapped an anxious rhythm against the cabinet. I barely noticed until Mina reached out and rested a hand gently on it. The pressure was light, but it was enough to still me.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice soft.

I nodded, but it felt hollow.

The door opened with a soft click.

The man who stepped in looked more like someone you’d want to sit next to at a backyard cookout than a doctor about to deliver a verdict on your future. He was tall, lean, probably in his early fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair combed back in a way that said he’d either put zero effort into it or had perfected the art of making it look that way. His suit was understated—charcoal slacks, a navy sweater under a white coat—and the warmth in his brown eyes contrasted the clinical chill of the room.

He glanced at the clipboard in his hands, then looked up. “Y/N Y/L/N?” His tone was even, pleasant.

Then his eyes landed on Mina, and everything about him softened. A genuine smile cracked across his face, crow’s feet appearing at the corners of his eyes.

“Well hey der, Mina! Didn’t see ya there!”

I blinked. Did he really just say ‘hey der’? The accent was unmistakable—Midwest, probably northern Michigan or somewhere not far from the Wisconsin border. Mina had said he'd grown up in Green Bay. It was so gentle and earnest, I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling.

Mina jumped up and threw her arms around him. “Hi, Dad.”

She stepped back and gestured toward me. “This is Y/N. She just moved in next door, and I thought I’d tag along to introduce her.”

Dr. Jeon—or Suho, apparently—turned toward me, his smile still warm, still easy. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Hope she’s not driving you too crazy already.”

“She’s been great,” I said, forcing my voice to sound steadier than I felt. I was still trying to untangle the ball of nerves sitting like stone in my stomach.

He nodded. “Good to hear. And call me Suho—everyone does. Any friend of Mina’s is a friend of mine. I’ve got a feeling you’ll be around more than a little.”

Before I could say anything else, Mina piped up, practically bouncing where she stood. “Oh! Are you and Mom still going to the Red Wings game Friday?”

“You know it. Wouldn’t miss it.”

She turned to me, eyes gleaming with excitement. “You should come with us. Lucy and I always go, and after the game, we meet up with some of the players—it’s actually a blast. Please come?”

I shook my head with a small laugh. “You’re doing the puppy eyes again.”

“They work, and you know it. C’mon, please?”

I looked at her—hopeful, grinning, her hands clasped in mock prayer—and felt the last of my resistance crumble.

“Alright. I’ll go.”

“Yes!” she cheered, clapping her hands. “Can I pick your outfit?”

Suho held up a hand, chuckling. “Okay, let’s maybe not plan her wardrobe while I’m trying to be a doctor here.”

“Oops,” Mina said, kissing his cheek before heading toward the door. “See you Friday!” She waved at me before slipping out, the door closing softly behind her.

The air shifted almost immediately—less playful now, quieter. Not uncomfortable, just... different. Like we’d all remembered why I was here.

I looked at Suho, who was already pulling up a stool and flipping open my file.

“She always been like that?” I asked, my voice still light, but something in it cracked slightly.

He smiled without looking up. “Since she learned how to talk. She hasn’t stopped since.” He turned a page, scanned it, then glanced at me. “But she’s got a good heart. And she’s stubborn—runs in the family.”

I let out a soft, distracted laugh, but the nerves were already crawling back in.

Suho adjusted the file in his lap. “Your orthopedic in Nevada sent over everything. November, right? ACL tear, surgery a week later, concussion from the fall?”

I nodded slowly. My throat felt tight again. “Yeah.”

The memory was sharper than I expected, cutting through the surface like ice cracking underfoot. One second I was mid-jump, body precise and controlled, and the next, everything was wrong—air, noise, then the sound of the impact, the searing pain that came before the lights even fully faded.

Suho didn’t rush. He flipped another page. “Looks like you’ve been doing your post-op rehab consistently. That’s good. Really good.” He looked at me again. “How’s the knee feeling now?”

“Sore,” I admitted. “Mostly at night. And if I’m on my feet too long, it kind of... throbs.”

He nodded. “That’s normal. Ligaments take time to recondition. It’s not just the muscle you’re rebuilding—it’s trust. Between your body and your brain.”

He moved closer, gently lifting my leg and rotating it with practiced care. “Range of motion looks decent,” he murmured. “And you’re not wincing—that’s a good sign.”

He set my leg down gently and looked at me fully. “I think you can start weaning off the crutches. Short walks at first. Around the house. No hills, no stairs yet.”

A small breath escaped me, part relief, part fear. “So... does that mean skating’s on the table?”

He didn’t answer right away. He leaned back slightly, rested his hands on his knees, and studied me for a beat. I could see the gears turning behind his eyes—professional caution, tempered by experience.

“If you’re diligent—if you give this the time it needs—then yes. I think it’s a real possibility. But don’t rush it. Your knee isn’t ready for jumps or spins. We’ll start small—treadmill by the end of the week. Gentle walking, just to get it used to bearing weight again. If that goes well, we’ll try light skating. Easy glides, no tricks.”

It wasn’t a promise. But it was hope. And right now, that was more than I thought I’d get.

“Thank you,” I said, and my voice wavered just enough that I had to look down.

“One step at a time,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to do it all at once.”

I nodded, swallowing hard.

He flipped through the last of the pages in my file. “Let’s get you scheduled for a follow-up in early April. That’ll give us time to reassess—see where you’re at in terms of strength and mobility.”

I hesitated. The real question was still there, sitting in the back of my throat, bitter and impossible to swallow. I stared at the floor, then forced myself to look up.

“Will I be able to compete again?” My voice barely made it out.

Suho looked at me for a long moment. Then he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and his tone shifted—gentle, but unflinchingly honest.

“It’s possible. But I won’t lie to you—there are no guarantees. Some athletes make a full comeback after an ACL tear. Others plateau. It depends on how well your body responds to the rehab. And how patient you’re willing to be.”

I nodded slowly, even though part of me was still frozen. Still scared.

“The hardest part,” he added, “comes when it starts to feel like you’re better. That’s when you’re most vulnerable to reinjury—when the confidence comes back faster than the strength. So take it slow. Let your body lead. We’ll reassess in April and see what’s next.”

He met my eyes, steady and kind. “Can you promise me that? That you won’t rush this?”

I nodded, but my mind was still spinning. Everything Suho had told me was looping back on itself, piling up before I could properly sort it out. ACL rehab. Crutches. No jumps. Maybe skating again. Maybe competing. There were so many maybes, and behind each one was a risk I wasn’t sure I was brave enough to take.

And underneath it all was the fear—quiet, patient, always waiting. It hadn’t left. It just shifted shape. I stared down at my hands, the knuckles still pale from how tightly I’d been wringing them, and tried to breathe through the weight in my chest.

Then Suho’s voice cut through the spiral. Not sharp, not rushed. Just steady.

“Y/N,” he said gently, “I know this isn’t easy to hear. And I know how hard it must be, having your future suddenly look different than you planned. But listen to me—don’t lose hope. You’re frustrated, sure. That’s normal. But recovery isn’t just physical. Mental strength is going to be just as important. Probably more.”

I looked up, caught off guard by how serious he looked. Not grim—just honest. Like he was telling me something he’d learned the hard way, something he really meant.

“If you stay patient, stay consistent, and keep showing up for yourself,” he continued, “you give yourself the best possible chance of getting back to where you were. And maybe even beyond that.”

A small, cautious warmth sparked somewhere inside me, like someone had lit a match in the dark. I swallowed hard. “You really think I can come back from this?”

His eyes didn’t waver. “I’ve seen a lot of athletes recover from worse. And I’ve seen some of the best give up—not because their bodies failed, but because they let fear win.” He leaned forward a little. “I can’t make any promises. But I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t believe you had it in you.”

I didn’t know what to say. The part of me that had braced for another clinical assessment—something cold and distant and definitive—didn’t quite know how to absorb this. It wasn’t a guarantee. But it was hope. Honest, measured hope. And after the months I’d spent waiting for the other shoe to drop, it felt like the first real breath I’d taken in a long time.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. Then, catching myself, “I mean—thank you, Suho.”

He grinned. “There you go. Getting the hang of the whole first-name thing.”

A faint laugh slipped out of me, and for the first time all day, it didn’t feel forced.

Suho stood and moved toward the counter to jot something in my chart, then turned back to me. “Just remember, you’re the one doing the work. I’ll guide you, sure. But this journey? It’s yours. Own it. Take your time. Don’t skip steps. There’s a time to push—and this isn’t it.”

“I hear you,” I said, managing a half-smile as I picked up my crutches. “No hero moves yet. Got it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yet.”

I nodded again, and this time it felt steadier. Not because I suddenly had all the answers, but because I had something to aim for. A thread to hold onto.

Suho opened the door for me, then gave me a last look as I passed through. “I’ll see you Friday. At the game.”

I blinked. “Right. I almost forgot.”

“Don’t worry,” he said with a wink. “Mina never lets anyone forget.”

I smiled—really smiled—and stepped into the hallway.

Outside, the January cold slapped against my skin the moment the sliding doors opened. The wind cut straight through my coat, and my breath came out in tight little clouds. But strangely, I didn’t mind.

After the appointment, Mina wouldn’t take no for an answer. She claimed we had to eat, and I didn’t have the energy to argue. So we ended up at the little café on Maple—the one with the scratched wooden tables and the chalkboard menu that hadn’t changed in three years. The kind of place where the barista already knows your order and slides it across the counter with a wink. Comfort food, warm light, good coffee. Safe.

We ate slowly, mostly in companionable silence, only breaking it to talk about the game Friday or how Minnesota had a “better winter” than Michigan, which, according to Mina, was a hill she was prepared to die on. Eventually, she checked the time, grabbed her keys, and gave me that look—the one that meant she had a plan I hadn’t agreed to.

“Come on. Emily said your car would be ready today, right?” she said as we slid into her car.

I nodded, suddenly queasy.

By the time we pulled into the dealership lot, my nerves had twisted into a tight knot at the base of my stomach. I spotted it right away—sleek, shining, sitting in the front row like it knew it was being shown off. A brand-new Mercedes-Benz SUV, polished to a mirror finish, reflecting the cloudy winter sky.

Of course it was a Mercedes. Emily didn’t do practical. She did statements. To her, this was a gift. To me, it felt like every moment of my life rolled into one big fucking joke on four wheels. She has no idea who I am.

I swallowed the knot of disappointment and climbed into the driver’s seat. The leather was buttery soft, the scent of new upholstery too strong, too sterile. Everything felt untouched, untouched by me at least. Like it belonged to a version of my life I hadn’t chosen.

I adjusted the seat, turned on the ignition, and rolled out of the lot with careful hands. A few seconds later, my phone buzzed. Emily. Right on cue. She’d probably been watching the time, waiting for the appointment to end so she could debrief like it was a business transaction.

I stared at the screen for a second before letting it ring out. She could go to voicemail. I’d blame driving later if she pressed. It wasn’t a lie—not completely.

We pulled up to the apartment just as Lucy’s BMW came around the corner. She practically leapt from it before the engine had even settled.

“There she is!” she called out, beaming, arms already wide like she was announcing me to a crowd.

Mina laughed, waving her over. “Perfect timing.”

Lucy jogged up, flushed from the cold, her scarf trailing behind her like a cape. She had that kind of contagious energy—bright, earnest, just a little chaotic—and it made it harder to hold onto a bad mood around her.

“You guys wanna do a lap around the block?” she asked, already bouncing in place like a wind-up toy. “Gotta break in your sea legs, Y/N.”

“It’s January,” I said flatly. “In Michigan.”

“So?” Mina shrugged, already pulling on gloves. “You’re a figure skater. Cold’s your natural habitat.”

“It’s twenty-two degrees out,” I reminded them.

Lucy grinned. “Exactly. Practically tropical.”

I stared at them for a moment—two overexcited lunatics in head-to-toe winter gear—before sighing and grabbing my coat. “Fine. But if I slip and die, I’m haunting you both.”

They whooped like I’d just agreed to join a flash mob.

The walk was slow but steady. The air was sharp, biting at my cheeks, but after the stuffy silence of the exam room and the hollow quiet of the dealership, it felt... clean. Real. Every step without the crutches was a small win, even if I could feel the strain creeping in by the second block.

About a minute in, my phone buzzed again. I didn’t need to look to know who it was. I thumbed it silent and slid it into my coat pocket before either of them noticed.

Mina noticed anyway. “Emily again?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’ll call her later.”

“You were living with her up until... what? A week ago?” Lucy asked, not unkindly—just curious, like she was building a timeline in her head.

“Yeah,” I said, watching my breath cloud in the air. “My parents split when I was a kid. My dad moved to Washington, and my mom and I kind of... floated. Wherever the best training was, that’s where we ended up.”

“That sounds like an adventure,” Mina said, wide-eyed.

I gave her a smile, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Mostly it was rinks and airports. Hotels that all looked the same. The places blur together after a while.”

“No sightseeing?” Lucy asked, her nose wrinkling.

I shook my head. “Not really. It’s a job, you know? Early mornings, late practices, physical therapy. You don’t get a lot of time to explore.”

“That kinda sucks,” Lucy said matter-of-factly.

I laughed, and this time it felt genuine. “Yeah, a little. I mean, I’m grateful, but it’s not exactly the glamorous life people think it is.”

“Not a lot of friends on the road?” Mina asked gently.

I looked up at the gray sky, thinking. “Mostly other skaters. But it’s competitive—cutthroat sometimes. You don’t always know who’s rooting for you and who’s waiting for you to fall.”

“Ever seen someone pull a Tanya Harding?” Lucy teased, grinning.

“Not exactly,” I said with a smirk. “But there’s definitely sabotage. Just... quieter. More backhanded.”

We all laughed, and for a second, the tension that had been riding my shoulders all day eased.

Then Mina’s voice softened. “That’s not how you got hurt though, right?”

I shook my head. “No. Just a dumb accident. My blade caught in a rut, and I went down hard. Concussion. Torn ACL. Game over.”

Lucy winced. “God, that sounds awful.”

“It was,” I admitted. “Still kind of is.”

“There wasn’t much about it in the news,” Lucy said, eyes narrowing in thought. “I didn’t even realize you were off the circuit.”

“That was on purpose,” I said. “She’s also my manager. She wanted to keep it quiet in case I bounced back fast. Didn’t want to spook the sponsors.”

“Is that... weird?” Mina asked. “Having her as your manager?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never known anything else.” I shrugged. “She took over after the divorce, when I was still competing in juniors. It just kind of became her job.”

“Do you miss her?” she asked softly.

The question caught me off guard. I looked ahead, watching the sidewalk stretch out in front of us. “It’s... complicated. I think we both needed space. She’s always been so focused on the next step—the next medal, the next competition. I don’t think she knows how to see me outside of that.”

“That would drive me nuts,” Mina said.

“It did,” I said quietly. “For a long time.”

There was a pause. Not awkward—just thoughtful. And then, just like that, the conversation drifted. Mina launched into a story about the latest drama with her cousin’s wedding—a florist who ghosted them mid-consultation—and Lucy added commentary so animated she nearly tripped over a crack in the sidewalk.

By the time we got back to the apartment, I was tired, but not drained. My knee ached, sure, but I’d made it. The elevator ride up was calmer than we had been outside. I leaned back against the wall and looked over at them.

“So,” Lucy said, dragging out the word like it held a secret, her grin widening with each syllable. “It’s Monday night. None of us have to be up early tomorrow. The guys are off doing whatever it is they do when they disappear for hours…”

Mina looked up from her phone, eyes lighting up like a switch had flipped. Their eyes met. And just like that, I could see it—the silent conversation, the plan forming between them before I even knew what was happening.

“You know what that means?” Lucy asked, already bouncing on the balls of her feet.

I blinked. “No clue.”

“Girls’ night!” Mina squealed, throwing her arms in the air like she’d just won the lottery.

“Girls’ night?” I echoed, my brow furrowing slightly, still trying to catch up.

“Oh, you have *no idea* what you’ve been missing,” Lucy said, sliding an arm around my shoulders like we were lifelong best friends instead of new neighbors. “It’s basically a sacred ritual. We eat junk food, drink ridiculous cocktails, wear the comfiest clothes known to mankind, and watch movies until we can’t keep our eyes open.”

“It's just a movie marathon where we get wasted and eat too much food,” Mina added helpfully.

I raised an eyebrow, not quite convinced. “And this is... fun?”

Lucy gasped, placing a hand over her heart like I’d just insulted her entire personality. “Y/N. It is everything.”

“I mean, I’m not really much of a drinker,” I said, hesitating, suddenly aware of how uncool that probably sounded.

“Lightweight or just not your thing?” Lucy asked, her voice genuinely curious, not judgmental.

“Neither, really. I just... never got around to it,” I said, and immediately felt the heat rising in my face. “Training and alcohol don’t mix, and I’ve basically been in bed by nine since I was twelve.”

Mina’s eyes went wide, her jaw dropping with mock horror. “Wait—you’ve never had a drink?”

“Not never,” I said quickly. “Just... not casually. Not like this. Not with friends.”

“No religious reasons? Family rule?” Lucy asked, gently.

“No, nothing like that,” I said, shrugging. “It just wasn’t part of the world I lived in. Between competition schedules, meal plans, and early flights, I didn't have time for parties or experimenting. And if I’m honest, it’s always made me a little nervous.”

“Well, tonight,” Mina said, taking a dramatic step forward and pointing a finger in the air like she was making a toast, “we right this injustice.”

I laughed. “What, no bedtime tonight?”

“Exactly. No curfews, no counting macros, no stress,” she said, linking her arm with mine. “Just sugar, salt, and emotionally irresponsible rom-coms.”

Before I could answer, Mina and Lucy were already halfway out the door, calling over their shoulders.

“We’re grabbing the essentials. Don’t go anywhere!”

Their front door swung shut, left half open in their wake. I stood there for a moment, dazed and smiling.

From inside, I could hear them already arguing about what to watch. “We are not watching ‘The Notebook’ again,” Mina insisted.

“Oh, come on! You cried harder than I did last time!” Lucy shot back.

I leaned against the doorframe, listening, letting their chaos fill the quiet spaces that had been echoing in me since the fall. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I had to brace myself for anything.

A few minutes later, their door flew open again.

Mina emerged first, barefoot and already in sweats, carrying a stack of DVDs taller than her torso. Lucy followed behind her, using a laundry basket as a makeshift party kit—bottles of something pink and sparkling clinking against bags of chips, boxes of cookies, a jar of marshmallow fluff, and three mismatched wine glasses rattling with every step.

“What kind of movies do you like?” Lucy asked, not even looking up as she wrestled the basket onto the kitchen counter.

“I’m easy,” I said. “Whatever you guys are into.”

“Perfect,” Mina said, flipping through the stack. “We’re going for maximum serotonin: rom-coms, teen drama, and something slightly trashy just to round it out.”

Lucy held up a pack of rainbow-colored popcorn like she’d found the Holy Grail. “We’re starting with 10 Things I Hate About You. It’s non-negotiable.”

“I approve,” I said, laughing as I took a handful of snacks from the basket to help sort. “Do people actually eat this much during girls’ night?”

“This?” Lucy said, looking insulted. “This is restraint.”

“And sweats, Mina?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you even own sweats?”

She placed a hand on her chest. “Excuse me. I am making a sacrifice for the integrity of the night.”

I headed back to my apartment to change, pulling on a pair of fleece joggers and an old, oversized Team USA hoodie that still smelled faintly like eucalyptus from my gym bag. I didn’t spend long in the mirror—just tied my hair back and grabbed a pair of fuzzy socks.

The moment I stepped into Mina and Lucy’s apartment, I paused at the threshold, overwhelmed—in the best way—by the transformation that had taken place.

The lights were low, the soft yellow string lights overhead casting a cozy, almost magical glow across the living room. A mountain of blankets and pillows was already spread across the couch and floor like the aftermath of a slumber party tornado. In the kitchen, Lucy was mid-chaos—bottles, bowls, and bags scattered across the counter like she was preparing for a sugar-fueled siege. Mina was hunched over the DVD player, muttering about the remote being possessed.

It was warm, loud, alive. The exact opposite of how my life had felt lately.

A slow smile spread across my face. Emily would’ve fainted if she saw this—junk food, mismatched glassware, alcohol in cups that weren’t crystal. She had once made a comment about goldfish crackers being "what people without standards feed their children." But tonight wasn’t about control. Or image. Or what looked good in a press photo. Tonight was about firsts.

First girls’ night. First drink. First time letting go, even just a little.

“So, what’s the first movie of the night?” I asked, slipping off my slippers and stepping into the living room like I belonged there.

Lucy tossed a bag of Doritos toward Mina, who caught it one-handed and grinned.

“We’re saving the emotional wreckage for later,” Mina said with a smirk. “We’re starting light. How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.”

Lucy gave an exaggerated sigh as she plopped onto the couch. “Ugh, McConaughey in his prime. That man could make me move back to Texas.”

“You lived there for two years,” Mina shot back.

“Details,” Lucy said, waving her hand dismissively. “Point is, he makes me nostalgic for accents and bad decisions.”

“You and Jimin both went to school in Texas, right?” I asked.

“Texas Tech,” Lucy nodded. “But Jimin actually paid attention in class. I was mostly there for the marching band and the tailgates.”

“And you still ended up with Taehyung,” Mina said, nudging her.

Lucy grinned. “I mean... not mad about it.”

Their easy back-and-forth made me smile, even though I still felt like I was learning how to exist in conversations like this—casual, intimate, no agenda.

“Speaking of accents,” I said, “your dad, Mina... his Wisconsin thing is strong.”

Mina burst into laughter before I even finished the sentence. “Oh my God, I should’ve warned you! I’m so used to it now, I forget how intense it can sound to normal people.”

“‘Hey der, Mina!’” I mimicked, and she doubled over, gasping.

“Stop, stop—I’m crying,” she wheezed. “Seriously though, it gets worse when he’s tired. Or if he’s talking to my grandma. It’s like full lumberjack mode.”

“Honestly?” Lucy chimed in, already halfway back to the kitchen. “Your dad is kind of... hot. Like, weirdly hot. Not for a dad. Just... in general.”

“Mmm, no comment,” I muttered, face flushing as I reached for a pillow to bury it.

Lucy reappeared with three glasses in one hand and a bottle of something in the other. “Don’t act like you didn’t notice, Y/N.”

“He’s... attractive,” I said carefully, trying to sound neutral.

Lucy raised her brows. “That’s it?”

“Isn’t he basically your future father-in-law?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Lucy raised her glass like it was a mic drop. “Exactly. Means I have good things to look forward to.”

“You guys are insane,” I mumbled.

“Oh, please,” Mina said casually. “I’m not blind. I know my dad’s good-looking. My mom jokes about it all the time. She says it’s why she puts up with his weird hobbies and the way he leaves coffee mugs in every room of the house.”

“I’m going to need to un-hear all of this,” I said, laughing into my hands.

“Welcome to girls’ night,” Lucy said, plopping down beside me and handing over a glass. “Where boundaries go to die.”

I took the glass warily. “What is it?”

“Just a little something light,” she said. “Promise. Fruity, barely any alcohol.”

I took a sip—and immediately choked. It tasted like fruit punch spiked with jet fuel. “*That* is not light,” I coughed.

Mina winced in sympathy. “Oof. Lucy, you always do this.”

“Fine, fine.” Lucy rolled her eyes and stood. “One ‘starter drink’ coming right up.”

She returned a moment later with something pink and frothy in a mason jar. “Try this. It’s basically a melted popsicle.”

I sniffed it cautiously, then took a sip. Sweet, fizzy, tangy—like raspberries and lemon sherbet. Still a little warmth on the back of my tongue, but nothing aggressive.

“Good, right?” Lucy asked, eyeing me over the rim of her glass, her grin twitching at the corners like she was holding back a celebratory cheer.

I nodded, a little more confidently this time, and took another sip. “Really good, actually.”

“Told you,” she said, clearly pleased with herself.

“Just... pace yourself,” Mina added from where she was curled up in a blanket on the floor. She raised a brow in my direction. “It tastes like juice, but there’s more vodka than fruit in that drink.”

“Duly noted,” I murmured, though I was already taking another sip.

The hours passed in a haze of warmth and movie quotes and laughter that felt like it belonged to another life—one that didn’t involve injuries or ice or expectations. We made it through Clueless and Legally Blonde before any of us realized how late it had gotten. I was sprawled out across the couch, my head resting against Lucy’s leg, Mina draped over the other end of the couch with her feet tucked under a pillow like a cat in hibernation.

It was the kind of comfort that felt rare—unguarded, unpretentious, easy.

“The night is young,” Lucy mumbled into a pillow, stretching out with a satisfied sigh. “What’s next?”

“Leo,” Mina declared, eyes lighting up as she reached for the next DVD. “It’s not a real girls’ night until Leo shows up in a tux.”

Lucy groaned playfully. “You and your Titanic obsession.”

“It’s a cinematic masterpiece,” Mina countered, already loading the disc.

“I mean, she’s not wrong,” I offered, earning a grin from both of them.

Lucy ambled into the kitchen to grab another drink. Her footsteps had a slight sway now, like the cocktails were finally catching up with her.

“Anyone else?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“I probably shouldn’t...” I began.

“Nuh-uh,” Mina said, cutting me off without even turning around. “You’re still too coherent.”

I let out a breathy laugh as Mina pressed another glass into my hand. “If I end up passed out on this couch, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal,” she said, raising her own drink like she was making a toast.

By the time Jack started sketching Rose, we were full-on tipsy. The drinks had softened all the edges. Conversation got louder, the laughs longer. At some point, Lucy and Mina reenacted the "I'm flying" scene on the coffee table, arms stretched wide and teetering dangerously close to the bottle of wine Mina had insisted on opening. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.

When the credits finally started rolling and the room settled into a comfortable hum of silence, Mina looked over at me, eyes gleaming with something between mischief and curiosity.

“Alright. Real talk, Y/N.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why do I feel like I should be bracing myself?”

“You’ve really never?” Lucy cut in, more serious now, though the playful edge hadn’t entirely left her voice.

I groaned, letting my head fall back against the cushion. “Why are we circling back to this?”

“Because,” Mina said, poking at my leg with her toe, “you’re too mysterious. We need to know everything.”

“There’s not that much to know,” I muttered.

Lucy stared at me like I’d just told her I didn’t believe in birthdays. “Y/N, you’re twenty-four. You’ve never had sex? Not even once? I mean, I know I waited for a while, but I still fooled around a bit before that. You haven't done anything?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Nope.”

Mina gasped like I’d confessed to never having tried pizza. “Are you serious?”

“There are plenty of people who wait,” I said, more defensive than I meant to sound. “It’s not that weird.”

“Sure,” Mina said, leaning her chin on her knees. “But you’re gorgeous. You could probably have your pick.”

“I’d totally jump you,” she added casually, reaching over to flick a bit of lint off my pants.

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “Wow, thank you. That’s very touching.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a proud smile.

Lucy looked genuinely perplexed. “So... no one? Not even a hot skater guy during training camps or some European fling after a competition?”

I shrugged. “Never really had the opportunity. Or... I guess I just didn’t make one.”

Mina stared at me, incredulous. “You mean to tell me that with all those hours at the gym, there wasn’t one shirtless Russian worth risking it all for?”

“Some of us actually used the gym for training,” I said.

“Some of us used it for both,” Lucy said with a wink. “Multitasking is a skill.”

“Perv,” I muttered.

“Proudly,” Lucy said, tossing a popcorn kernel into her mouth like she’d just dropped a mic.

Mina sat up a little straighter, the gears in her head clearly turning. “Okay. We need to find you someone.”

“No,” I said instantly. “Absolutely not. I don’t need a setup.”

“But think about it!” Mina said, suddenly looking far too serious for someone wrapped in a blanket burrito. “Lucy, who do we know?”

I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “Please. Stop.”

“You can’t just tell us you’ve never and then not let us help,” Lucy insisted.

“I can and I will.”

Mina narrowed her eyes. “Unless... you have met someone.”

“No,” I said way too quickly.

Lucy sat up like she’d just heard a dog whistle. “You so have.”

“There’s nothing to tell!” I insisted, feeling heat crawl up my neck.

“Oh my God,” Mina gasped, eyes sparkling. “You met someone. Who is he? Is he cute? Is he here? Did you kiss?”

“You guys are relentless,” I muttered, laughing despite myself.

Lucy folded her arms, raising one perfectly shaped brow. “We’ve been in long-term relationships for years. We live for this stuff now. Spill.”

I sighed, realizing I wasn’t getting out of this. “Fine. I met a guy at the airport. He helped me with my bags. We talked for a few minutes. That’s it.”

“Was he hot?” Lucy asked, already leaning forward like this was the climax of the story.

I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” Mina repeated, scandalized.

“I mean, he wasn’t just cute,” I admitted. “He was... kind of next-level.”

“Tall?” Lucy prompted.

“Yeah.”

“Dark?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Handsome?”

I exhaled. “Ridiculously.”

Both of them squealed so loudly I nearly dropped my drink.

“Did you get his number?” Mina asked.

“No.”

“Did he get yours?”

“No.”

“Y/N!” Lucy groaned. “What the hell?”

“I didn’t know if he was just being polite! I wasn’t going to throw my number at him in the middle of baggage claim like some rom-com extra.”

“But he said he wanted to see you again?” Mina asked, her voice softening.

I nodded slowly. “He mentioned grabbing coffee sometime. But that was it.”

“Girl,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “We need to manifest this man’s return into your life.”

“I’m not holding my breath,” I replied. “I’ll probably never see him again.”

Mina rested her head on my shoulder. “Maybe. But maybe not. You never know.”

I smiled faintly, grateful for their enthusiasm even if it made me feel more exposed than I’d planned. The movie was still playing in the background, the soft sounds of Celine Dion bleeding through the speakers. The room had gone quiet again, but this time it wasn’t awkward—it was comfortable. Safe.

Mina looked up at me, her expression suddenly serious. “Your butterflies are still out there, Y/N. You just have to be ready when they land.”

Taglist: @smartkookiee @knightofmidnight @mar-lo-pap @jjeonjjk7 @somewhatjungkook @lovingkoalaface @jimineepaboya @iswearimover5feetall @blissingtaehyung @futuristicenemychaos @kooloveys @jenniebyrubies @8thmuse @beattiestreet @tatzzz-25

[motorsportbarbie13]

Me? A Princess? SHUT. UP.

In which you become a princess for the night.

Warnings: Just a fluffy Halloween fic Pairing: Charles LeClerc X Girlfriend!Reader Word Count: 1k

Masterlist

If there was one thing you should have warned Charles about before you started dating, it would have been how much you were obsessed with Halloween. Ever since you were a little girl, you had been head over heels for the holiday, spending hours upon hours thinking about and then creating the perfect costume that year. You would never be caught dead in a mass market pre-made costume either. 

You got your love for the holiday from your mother, who had dressed you in homemade costumes every year since your first Halloween at six months old. It became a tradition from then on, first your mother always hand sewing your costumes until you were in your teens, when you finally took over the responsibility. Halloween had been the sole reason you had begged your grandmother to teach you how to sew: so you could take over the job of creating fabulous and intricate costumes when you were old enough. 

When you started dating Charles, you probably should have warned him that part of dating you during the month of October would include being roped into a couples costume. The first year you were together, Charles had gone as Lighting McQueen and you as Sally. The second year, you had convinced Charles to dress as Linguini from ‘Ratatouille’ while you had been Remy. But this year? This year you were absolutely tickled at the costume you had convinced Charles to do with you and couldn’t wait to debut it at the driver’s annual Halloween party ahead of the race in Brazil. 

“This may just be the best costume I’ve ever come up with.” You gush, looking at your reflection in the mirror as Charles came up behind you, rolling his eyes. 

“I look ridiculous.” He says, tugging at the shaggy wig you had somehow convinced him to wear. 

“You do not, now where is your keyboard?” 

Charles points to the bed in your hotel room where the blow up keyboard sits, ready to be slung around his neck. “What’s my name again?” 

You huff, adjusting the tiara that sits on the top of your head. “You’re Michael. How many times have we watched that movie since we started dating?” 

“I lost count after the 36th time.” Charles deadpans. 

Charles may be giving you a hard time, but just below his prickly exterior he’s secretly thrilled at this costume you’ve come up with. It’s easy for him: a pair of khakis, blue button up, tie and sport coat, backwards turned hat and pair of sunglasses. The only thing he could possibly complain about was the messy mop of a wig you insisted he wear but only because it was slightly itchy. The blowup keyboard that had M&M’s glued to the keys were a nice touch, he had to admit. 

“You’re such a liar, you love that movie and both sequels!” You swat at his arm, knowing that whatever couples costume idea you came up with, he would have gone along with no questions asked. 

Now it’s your boyfriend’s turn to roll his eyes. “You could have at least given me a real keyboard. I can play the piano, after all.” 

“If you’re going to complain all night, I’m leaving you here and have Franco be my bodyguard instead. I’m certain he’ll play along and that costume would be easy to put together.” You smirk, knowing how Charles feels about how…friendly the young Argentinian has been with all of the WAGs. 

Charles grabs you around the waist, hauling you to him. “Don’t you dare, mon amor.” He murmurs, lips a breath away from yours. 

“Then stop complaining and let’s go. Rebecca just sent me a text, her and Carlos are already downstairs.” You give Charles a kiss on the cheek, leaving behind a bright red kiss print, one that he doesn’t even bother wiping off. 

You grab the pair of wired headphones and tiny black sunglasses that complete your look and hustle out the door. George and Carmen had rented out the hotel’s entire restaurant tonight to throw their famous Halloween party, and had invited the entire grid along with most everyone from every garage on pit row. You knew it was going to get rowdy and you couldn’t wait. It was coming up on the end of a brutal triple header and these kinds of parties were always fun, but considering this was Halloween? You knew it was going to be one of your favorites of the entire year. 

Charles follows dutifully behind, blow up keyboard secured around his neck, as the two of you walk into the restaurant that night. There are a lot of people already there but it doesn’t take you long to find Kika and Pierre, who are dressed as Boo and Sully from Monster’s Inc. 

“Oh my God! Your Royal Highness!” Kika squeals when she sees you in your costume, sweeping into a low curtsey before throwing her arms around you. “You look so cute.” 

You laugh, hugging your friend back, pleased that she was able to recognize your costume without missing a beat. Behind you, Charles chuckles and pulls a few M&Ms out of his pocket, offering a few to Pierre who was dressed in a fuzzy blue and purple onesie. 

“The things we do for our women.” Pierre grouses, although just like Charles, Pierre would have dressed up as anything Kika had asked him to and the both of them knew it. 

The rest of the night is spent dancing, drinking, and taking a plethora of photos for social media. Everyone you encounter fawns over your costume and laughs when they realize who Charles is to your Princess. At the end of the night, you and Charles even take home the coveted ‘Best Costume’ award that has become somewhat of an infamous thing on the grid over the last few years. 

When the pair of you finally tumble into bed hours later, your feet throb from the stilettos but you have to admit, this was one of the best Halloween’s you’ve ever had. As you curl yourself into Charles, both of you almost instantly dropping off to sleep ahead of tomorrow’s busy media day, you can’t help but be thankful that you’ve somehow managed to become your own real life version of Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo. 

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16

[ms-snape]

Hii, I‘d love to request an younger Severus Story, where he gets set up on a blind date by Lucius and Narcissa to get his mind off of Lily

The date turns out to be one of Narcissas friends who he sits besides in one of his classes, who he always has found very interesting and pretty

Title: Blind Date

Warning: None

Words Count: 2800+

Masterlist

---

Severus Snape was not one to believe in the whimsicalities of fate. But then, there were days when he couldn't help but wonder if life had a funny way of playing with him. He had always considered himself a man of logic, someone who would not be swayed by frivolous emotions. And yet, there he was, daydreaming about Lily Evans in the middle of a rather important Potions lesson, staring out the window instead of focusing on the bubbling cauldron in front of him.

Lily, with her bright red hair and those emerald eyes that sparkled with warmth and kindness, had been his obsession since they first met at the age of nine. He was certain she'd never look at him the way he looked at her—how could she? He was just Severus Snape, the shy, awkward, slightly odd boy with a dark reputation, while she was the shining star, surrounded by friends who adored her.

But there was someone else in his Potions class who always caught his eye, though he tried to ignore it. Y/N. She wasn’t like Lily—no, Y/N had a quiet elegance about her, with a mysterious air that Severus found fascinating. Her long hair, dark as a raven’s wing, framed her face perfectly, and she always seemed lost in thought, as if she were pondering something far more important than whatever they were learning. She was pretty, yes, but she was also clever, independent, and a touch distant—qualities that Severus admired but also didn’t know how to approach.

He had never spoken to her, never had the courage to cross that boundary. Instead, he observed her from the corner of his eye, day after day. She was a Slytherin, though not in the same social circle as him but still a close friend to Narcissa Black. She was more quiet, more reserved, more… unlike the rest of the Slytherins who crowded the common room, loudly boasting about their latest exploits or schemes.

But then there was Lily, always at the forefront of his mind. Always. And that was the problem. Severus could never seem to break free of his obsession with her, and no matter how much he tried, it felt as though his heart would always belong to Lily Evans.

At least, until one afternoon, when the weight of his unrequited love for Lily was finally too much for some of his friends to bear.

"Severus," Lucius Malfoy said, his voice smooth as ever, leaning against the doorframe of their shared Potions classroom, "you've got to stop this nonsense with Evans."

Severus, who had been staring at the delicate glass vials lined up on the desk before him, stiffened at the sound of his name. Lucius always seemed to know when he was lost in his thoughts. Narcissa, standing beside him, was looking at Severus with an almost exasperated expression.

"She's never going to notice you, Severus," Narcissa added, her voice cool but tinged with concern. "We need to do something about it. You're wasting away."

Severus opened his mouth to protest, but Lucius cut him off.

"Don't bother," Lucius said with a sly grin. "We’ve already come up with a solution."

Before Severus could ask what that solution was, Narcissa flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder and smiled slyly.

"We’ve set you up on a date."

"A date?" Severus blinked, incredulous. "With who?"

Narcissa’s smile widened. "With one of my friends. I think you'll find her… quite interesting."

Severus didn’t have time to argue. Lucius was already pulling out a small piece of parchment with details scribbled hastily on it.

"It’s at Madam Pudifoot's Tea Shop," Lucius said. "Tomorrow. Seven o’clock. Don’t worry, we’ve arranged everything."

Severus’ stomach tightened in a mixture of anxiety and confusion. He didn’t want this. He didn’t need it. But as Narcissa’s gaze bore into him, he realized that he had little choice in the matter.

The next day, Severus found himself pacing outside the entrance to Madam Pudifoot’s, the quaint and overly pink tea shop that had somehow become popular among Hogwarts students, despite its tendency to give him a headache just by looking at it. He felt utterly out of place, his black robes stark against the pastel-colored walls and frilly tablecloths.

When he walked in, a bell tinkled above the door, and the smell of lavender tea and scones wafted through the air. Severus couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous as he stood in the doorway, searching for the person he was supposed to meet. He half-hoped to see Lily waiting for him, but of course, that was impossible. This was a blind date, arranged by Narcissa, and he had no idea who he was supposed to be meeting.

Then, as if from nowhere, a soft, melodic voice caught his attention.

"Severus? Are you… Severus Snape?"

He turned, and there she was. Y/N.

Her long dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her green dress seemed to shimmer in the soft lighting of the shop. Her smile was warm, but there was a nervous edge to it, just like the way he was feeling.

"Y/N?" he asked, almost too quietly. "What are you doing here?"

She tilted her head, her lips curling into a small, amused grin. "It seems that Narcissa thought it would be fun to set us up." She raised an eyebrow. "I’m assuming you're as surprised as I am."

Severus felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn’t been expecting this. He had been bracing himself for an awkward encounter with someone else entirely, but here was Y/N—the very person he had admired from afar, sitting across from him at a small table, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"I—" Severus stopped himself, unsure of what to say. "I didn’t know it was you."

"Neither did I," she admitted with a soft laugh. "But I suppose we’re here now, so we might as well enjoy it."

They sat in a slightly awkward silence for a moment before the waitress arrived, offering them menus. Severus found himself staring at the menu, but he wasn’t really seeing it. His mind was spinning. Y/N was here. On a date. With him. Not Lily. Y/N.

"So," Y/N said after a moment, breaking the silence, "what have you been up to, Severus? I don’t think we’ve ever really had a proper conversation before."

It was true. They hadn’t. And Severus found himself oddly relieved. This was a blank slate, a chance to get to know her, not as the distant girl in his Potions class, but as someone who might actually become… more.

"I—well, I've been working on my Potions," Severus said, then immediately regretted it. "You know, trying to perfect a few of them."

Y/N smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. "I’ve always thought you were one of the best in Potions," she said, and Severus felt a heat rise in his cheeks. "But you’re also a bit of a mystery, Severus. Why is that?"

His heart pounded a little faster at the question. It was so open, so direct. There was something in her eyes—an understanding, maybe? Or a curiosity?

"I suppose… I’m not very good at opening up to people," Severus confessed, his voice quieter now. "I’ve never really been one for… socializing."

Y/N nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I understand. I’m not exactly the most social person either." She paused. "But sometimes it’s nice to have someone to talk to, don’t you think?"

Severus found himself nodding, but he was still unsure. Was this really happening? Was he really sitting here, with Y/N? It felt almost surreal.

The evening passed quickly, and to Severus’ surprise, he found himself genuinely enjoying the conversation. They talked about everything and nothing—Potions, of course, but also books, the latest gossip at Hogwarts, and their shared experiences as Slytherins in a school that often seemed to push them to the sidelines. By the time they finished their tea and dessert, Severus realized something he hadn’t expected: he was no longer thinking about Lily.

Instead, he was thinking about Y/N.

They walked out of the tea shop together, and Severus felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known in a long time. The night air was cool against his skin, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt oddly comforting.

"I… I’m glad Narcissa set this up," Severus said quietly, not looking at her but feeling her presence next to him, comforting and warm.

"Me too," Y/N agreed. "I think we make a good pair."

Severus couldn’t help but smile. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but he liked it.

Maybe, just maybe, fate had a hand in this after all.

Weeks had passed since that fateful evening at Madam Pudifoot’s. Severus found himself thinking about Y/N more often than he had ever thought about anything else. Their dates—yes, dates—had become a regular occurrence. After that first meeting, he had found that Y/N was a surprisingly easy person to be around. They’d spent time in quiet corners of the library, discussing their shared love for Potions and the art of brewing the most complicated of brews. They’d visited Hogsmeade together, strolling through the cobbled streets with nothing but the sound of the wind and their quiet laughter accompanying them.

Each date, each conversation, left Severus feeling more at ease. He never expected to enjoy spending time with anyone as much as he enjoyed being with her. For the first time in what felt like forever, he found himself genuinely looking forward to seeing someone—not just because she was a welcome distraction, but because she was someone who understood him in a way that few people ever had.

Y/N, for her part, seemed equally comfortable with him. The distance he’d once put between them, the awkwardness, had slowly vanished as the weeks passed. Her wit and intelligence matched his own, and they both found joy in the most mundane of activities, simply because they were in each other’s company.

It wasn’t just that she was pretty—though she was undeniably that—it was her quiet, thoughtful nature, the way she could sit with him for hours in companionable silence, or the way she would challenge him in discussions about magic, Potions, and life itself.

Severus had never believed in love at first sight. But he was beginning to wonder if there was something more than coincidence behind the way things were unfolding.

One afternoon, as Severus sat in the Slytherin common room, his mind lost in thoughts of Y/N, he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Severus."

He looked up to see Lucius Malfoy standing there, a curious expression on his face. Narcissa was just behind him, her eyes gleaming with the same sort of interest that Severus had come to recognize in them when they were scheming.

"Lucius," Severus said, his voice a little guarded. He wasn’t exactly keen on being interrogated about his personal life, but given his friends' penchant for prying, he suspected that was exactly what was about to happen.

Narcissa took a seat next to him, her tone casual, but with a knowing edge. "We’ve been noticing something, Severus," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly in amusement. "You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Y/N lately."

Severus stiffened slightly, though he did his best to hide it. "I… I suppose we’ve gotten along well. What of it?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I’m asking because it seems that you’ve… become rather fond of her." He let the words hang in the air, almost as if testing the waters.

Severus felt a knot form in his stomach. He didn’t want to admit it—not to Lucius, not to Narcissa—but it was true. He had become fond of Y/N. More than fond, if he was being honest with himself. His feelings for her had only grown stronger with each passing day. She was no longer just the girl he’d noticed from afar in Potions class—she was someone he genuinely cared about.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure of how to respond.

Lucius, ever the opportunist, pressed further. "So, Severus, tell me. Is it serious between you two?"

Narcissa leaned in slightly, her expression softening as she spoke. "You’ve always been rather reserved with your emotions, Severus. But if it’s serious, you should be honest with yourself. And with her."

Severus’ heart was pounding in his chest. He hadn’t fully acknowledged it yet, not in the way Narcissa and Lucius seemed to want him to, but the question was inevitable. He had spent weeks with Y/N, sharing laughs and moments of genuine connection. He was feeling something, something deep and real.

"I—" Severus hesitated, his mind racing, "I think it might be."

Lucius grinned, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Well, there you go. I always knew you weren’t as hopeless as you let on."

Narcissa, ever the more calculating of the two, tilted her head thoughtfully. "You should talk to her about it, Severus. Don’t let this opportunity slip away." Her voice was calm, but there was a sincerity there that Severus hadn’t expected.

The next day, Severus found himself walking down to the courtyard where he and Y/N had agreed to meet. His thoughts were a jumbled mess. Lucius’ questions had brought everything into sharp focus: he did care for Y/N. More than care, he wanted to be with her. He hadn’t been sure of it at first—he’d been so consumed by his obsession with Lily, by his doubts and insecurities. But with Y/N, it felt different. She made him feel seen, understood in a way no one else had.

As he approached the spot where they had planned to meet, he saw her sitting by the fountain, her back to him, her long hair swaying gently in the breeze. The sight of her heartened him, but also left him feeling a bit anxious. He had no idea how she felt about him. Was she just enjoying their time together? Or had she begun to feel something more?

When she turned and saw him, a smile blossomed on her face, and Severus felt his anxiety melt away, just a little.

"Severus," she greeted, standing and brushing the grass from her robes. "You’re early today."

"I wasn’t sure if you’d be on time," Severus replied, his voice softer than usual. "But I’m glad you’re here."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, as they often did, both of them unsure of what to say next. Then, Y/N spoke, her voice quieter than before.

"You’ve been distant lately," she said, her eyes searching his. "I can tell there’s something on your mind."

Severus took a deep breath. This was it. He couldn’t keep hiding behind his doubts. Not anymore.

"I’ve been thinking about us," he said, his voice steady but his heart racing. "And I realized something… I care about you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone."

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, but there was no fear in them, only curiosity and something else. Hope, maybe. Her lips parted slightly, as though she was about to say something, but Severus took a step closer, not wanting to wait any longer.

"I know I’ve been… hesitant," he continued. "But after everything we’ve shared, I can’t deny how I feel. You’re not just a distraction for me. You’re not just some pretty face. You make me feel things I didn’t know I could feel."

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind between them. Then Y/N stepped forward, closing the distance, her hands reaching for his.

"Severus," she whispered, her voice soft yet clear. "I’ve felt the same way. I didn’t know how to say it, but… I’m glad you did."

And in that moment, as if the entire world had aligned just for them, Severus felt his heart swell with emotion. Slowly, he leaned in, his breath hitching, and pressed his lips gently to hers.

It was tentative at first—neither of them sure how to navigate this new, delicate part of their relationship. But as the seconds passed, it became more natural, more real. The kiss deepened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Severus felt truly alive. All the confusion, the doubt, the years of loneliness—it all melted away in the warmth of Y/N’s kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, Severus kept his forehead resting against hers, his hands still holding hers.

"So," Y/N said softly, her smile shy but sincere, "does this mean we're… official?"

Severus smirked, his usual guarded expression slipping away in the face of her warmth. "I think it does."

And for the first time in years, Severus Snape felt like he had found something worth fighting for. Something more important than anything he had ever known.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of shared moments, laughter, and quiet companionship. Severus had never felt more certain about anything. Y/N was his, and he was hers. And in the quiet of the night, when the world seemed still and he allowed himself a rare moment of peace, Severus couldn’t help but think that perhaps, just perhaps, he had found something even more powerful than magic.

Love.

[neoplatinum]

Hello, author. I just think it's so interesting how you write Sana, especially in that rich mafia family one, can you make more headcanons about her? Maybe she being obsessed with reader, kinda yandere.

right so, i've never written headcanons for my characters i guess but here we go. also, here's the link to the series: til' death do us part: the series

heiress!sana headcanons

sfw:

sana's OBSESSED with reader, everything they do. she needs to know about how their day went at the end of it. likes to sit at her vanity and just listen to reader ramble on about work.

sana's also very stubborn about certain things, she can't stand hearing about reader's assistant even though she would never force them to fire shoko.

sana's the happiest when reader's attention is on her, when reader only has her occupying their mind (no work, no family, just sana) she's a little selfish like that.

she enjoys quality time with reader, whether that's little moments while getting ready for the day, eating breakfast together. it just makes her happy that reader's around.

sana's a bit possessive too, with her littering reader's dress shirts in lipsticks marks, she thinks everyone should know that reader is taken, if it were up to her, she'd have reader tattoo her name on their body.

she needs to have things of hers around reader, a special chair in reader's office just for her to sit in, photos of their family on reader's desk facing every client. just a way to show that she exists in every part of reader's life.

one time reader nearly lost their ring and she lost her shit, swearing up and down she was getting a replacement right away, no way reader's walking around without it.

sana has unwavering loyalty towards reader, so whenever it is questioned she will rain hellfire on reader until reader knows that she is THE minatozaki sana

sana's a heiress so she can and will buy anything that she thinks reader should have to make their life better: cars, clothes, jewelry, new outfits.

she likes making sure everyone knows reader is hers, and only hers. she won't hesitate to shove her ring in people's face if they get too flirty.

sometimes that includes being overly affectionate with reader just to mess with momo and mina. both girls rolling their eyes at the sight.

nsfw:

she loves making reader lose control, the more riled up the hotter the sex in her opinion.

this can include flirtatious touches, whispers in reader's ear, dropping panties into reader's pockets, leaving little polaroids for reader.

ever since reader started training with momo and mina she's been obsessed with reader's muscles, she likes seeing them being used to please her.

most times its bottom sana, but if she's really jealous she likes to be in control, to leave imprints and her marks all reader's body.

i think top sana likes bondage and degradation, ways to show her control over reader.

when her and reader first started sleeping together, she made sure to desecrate every room in the house.

sana does not understand the normal workday, so most days she sends photos of her outfits, typically when she knows that reader is busy at work.

especially photos of her in lingerie sets and one of reader's shirts, she knows that last part gets reader the most.

sana loves blindfolds, the idea that she won't know where reader will touch her next excites her, she especially likes to taunt reader when she's blindfolded.

sana's one to tease all the time just to push reader's button, but doesn't enjoyed being teased back, almost peeved off almost.

sana's obsessed with quickies, no matter where they are. bathrooms, in the car, in reader's office. it doesn't matter where as long as she knows reader's as into it as she is.

sana expects to be held and cuddled after sex, always, even if it's in a bathroom. she feels the most satisfied when reader showers her in affection afterwards. little kisses and hugs go a long way for sana.

[thedivineden]

Thin Ice

Summer Olympics Collab w/ @tetzoro

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

genre: smut

words: 5k+

notes: dubcon, enemies, breeding, jujitsu kaisen au!figure skaters, slight mentions of sexual harassment from Gojo, obsession, controlling behaviors, jealousy, drugging, peer pressure, slight manipulation,

AN: I had so much fun writing this, you should see the notes I scribbled at work because we’re not allowed to have our phones! Thank you so much @tetzoro for allowing me to be apart of this lovely event. ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊

You and Gojo Satoru have been competing against each other since the day you were placed in the same class at nine years old. He was favored due to his family standing within the figure skating community but you had raw, unfiltered talent which shook him and his family to their core. Despite all your talent, he’s managed to win almost every single competition. You’d bet big money that it had to do with his family status but you don’t upset the balance until you’re both picked for the Olympics.

And boy were you fuming. “I ALONE have went through hell and back to be where I am whereas he gets placed just because of his family name! It’s preposterous Shoko!” you’ve been ranting to your coach for an hour about the competition; how you didn’t believe that he deserved to be here and wish you didn’t have to compete along side him. “That spoiled brat doesn’t have a INCH of talent in his bones even if it was injected with a needle!”

“Aw do you really hate me that much? I thought we were friends?” You turn to the door to see the lanky white haired man standing against its frame smiling down at you. “Friends? Satoru please, you know I never enjoyed your company now leave. I’m having a discussion with MY coach or are you wanting to take her away from me too?” Shoko stifled a small laugh and stood up. “Gojo, don’t stress my prodigy out. What do you want?”

Gojo never took his eyes off of you; he saw your annoyance as just another game. You roll your eyes and say, "Well, I was just coming to check on my favorite figure skater but I don't think she was to see me." Despite your request to go, Gojo slips into your room and envelops you in his arms. "I'll break all ten of your toes in five seconds if you don't get off of me."

Gojo chuckles at what you've said because he adores your fierce personality and is confident that you will follow through. You lost a tournament at 15 after he "jokingly" slapped your behind for taking first place and your only recourse was to throw your ice skate at him. His parents complained to the judges and got you disqualified.

You were more concerned about scuffing your brand-new Eden Piano ice skates than you were about the blade nearly striking him. You could feel his breath on your ear as he said, "Aw, must you struggle so much, you know you love it, and I know you love me, why don't we meet up later? My room?” You're furious now and shove him away from you. You're about to charge at him when Shoko, sporting her signature side grin, stands in between the two of you.

“Shall we maintain the calm? Alright, sweetie?” The man behind her laughs audibly, saying, "Yeah, sweetie! Let's maintain harmony.” Even though you were angry, you wouldn't allow him or anybody else to sour your mood. "Shoko, you're right; I won't have to deal with him for very long. After the Olympics, I'm heading to Brazil, and I have no intention of returning to Tokyo.” That touched a nerve; your coach's gasp indicates to Gojo that she was equally clueless. You had no idea that your remark had the man fuming.

You? Leaving? The young man finds just such idea absurd. Ever since he first saw you in class, you have been everything to him. You were not impressed with Gojo's antics, even if he is accustomed to getting his way. No matter how many pranks and tricks he performed or how many gifts he put in your locker, his efforts were consistently disregarded.

The man continued to essentially harass you every day despite your denial. He would make harsh remarks about your body, clearly taking care to point out that you are curvier than all the other figure skaters in the class or that your ass is "so massive that you might tip over," which would ultimately be the undoing of you. You could not care less, and all he wanted was the thrill of having your undivided attention.

Gojo needed and desired you more than anything else, and this only made his fixation worse. Without saying anything more, the young man left the room, leaving Shoko to ask all the relevant questions and provide the information later. He's going to make sure that you remember him forever.

It took hours for the two of you to be back together again. You were seated close to each other for the opening ceremony. The opening ceremony typically features the entrances of the head of state or other official of the host nation as well as the president of the International Olympic Committee. The national anthem and flag are then raised and played. Then the tournament started.

You have a strong passion for figure skating, and when you're on the ice, it feels remote. Nothing could distract you from your quest for excellence in each trick, flip, and turn. Everyone in the stadium is quiet, appreciating your stunning appearance and captivating performance. Your candid feelings convey a tale of bereavement.

You jump off the backward outside edge on one foot, using your toe pick to help you get airborne, then use your other leg to reach across your body and back to pick into the ice. Gojo is an enormous admirer of your performances and would do anything to spend time on the ice with you.

You were actually quite flexible, as required by the biellmann spin. You spin on one foot, stretching the other leg behind you and above your head to make the shape of a teardrop, and Gojo is staring at you in astonishment. You release your leg and step off the ice again. You can turn the odds in your favor with just your pure resolve.

You release everything forward, shift your entire weight on your takeoff left leg, raise your arms, and release your right leg back at the same moment of takeoff. At first, it looks like a typical axel leap, but in order to complete the trick, you have to make four and a half rotations in the air. When you land perfect, everyone in the stadium goes crazy. Gojo was aware of the announcers' adoration for your flawless quadruple axel.

Interviewers are waiting in line to chat with Japan's figure skating prodigy as soon as you step off the ice. Gojo heard all of the inquiries: "Wow, it was incredible! "How long have you been practicing your quadruple axel?" "How long have you been training?" and "Do you ever see yourself performing routines in pairs with?" You were brisk even off the rink, graciously and enthusiastically responding to every inquiry.

Gojo is the next to go, but not before he interacts with you. "Looks like you're going for the gold, but we all know who's really taking it home." Your smile quickly disappears and is replaced by a frown. "If you already know you're the winner why are you trying so hard to convince yourself that I'm not?" You grin again and walk past the gaunt man before he can respond, heading toward Shoko.

God, you made him so hard.

Despite what you previously stated, Gojo is without a doubt the greatest for Japan, and his mesmerizing methods are hard to ignore. Every now and then, Gojo stretches out his palm and takes a tiny step forward, sliding across the icy rink with effortless ease. Not long after he picks up speed, he throws his right leg over his head and balances on his left foot. He spread his arms, almost making a T or possibly a K. Gojo never fails to demonstrate to his own nation and the rest of the world that he was a showman in addition to a prodigy.

He swung his body in fluid motions, bending his knees. He was able to move down the rink more quickly and farther as soon as both of his skates were facing in the same direction and parallel to one another. Watch as the man launches himself and lands on the back outside edge of the opposing foot. You see him use his free leg to assist with the takeoff. Gojo starts off across the rink once more; he has the appearance of a swan on a quest. Despite his solemn expression, he manages to pique the audience's interest by molding his face to suit his intended message.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a tap from another skater. "Hi!"You're — correct? The most beautiful man you have ever seen is revealed when you turn around. "Yes I am and you are?" Your smile was enough to break any man's heart, and it certainly broke Gojo's. His eyes caught you talking to the low-level figure skater during his back bend. To get your attention, Gojo slowly lifts his body upward while making sure to circle close to you.

You paid no attention to anything, not even when the crowd chanted his name. He saw you gazing passionately at the man, touching him, and grinning during his performance. He'll make sure that everyone is aware of your connection. Interviewers swarm Gojo as he emerges from the ice, asking him questions about the tournament, his emotions, whether he predicted Japan would win, and what he loves best about the Olympics.

He took great pleasure in watching you, even though you were hostile toward you. He enjoys watching you on the ice and knows that all of these eyes will be able to see and appreciate your beauty and brilliance, even if that's not a suitable answer to the question. “I had fun watching my girlfriend accomplish a quadruple axel on the ice, going above and beyond the norm!” The interviewers are going crazy over the exclusive insider information that Japan's Olympic candidates are a couple! “I'm very proud of her!”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Could you two come on my show to give more information about your relationship and experience in the competitive skating world?”

“Do you plan on marrying her?”

Gojo has a broad smile, but it widens when he notices you approaching from the corner of his eye. He ensured that there would be enough disturbance to draw in people from a 50-mile radius. He quickly puts his arm around your waist to hold you close once you are arms length apart.

He undoubtedly knows that you are extremely conscious of your appearance and would never intentionally make a fool of yourself in front of thousands of people. "Hello my darling, don't you want to tell them about how our love blossomed?" Even though you're terrified, you swiftly avert the interviewers' attention to the man by saying that he always tells story better than you. He makes fun of you and tells a made-up tale of jealousy, hate, and love. Gojo lets the interviewer know that you two are deeply in love, plan to be married, and want to start a family.

He knows when you get uncomfortable in his arms and knows it's time to finish the interview and express gratitude for the interviewers' time. Curses fly from your mouths towards Gojo the moment you two are out of earshot. You attempt to escape his hold, but it's firm and powerful, and he won't let go until he proves that you are his.

Because he would be pressed for time, he had everything set up before the competition day. After his performance, he asked to have a car ready for him so he could take you to the Olympic village, to his room, and finally to his bed. You sound even more enraged now that you're practically yelling at him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Why in the hell would you tell them that?”

"I just want you to realize how much I adore you, now hush and enjoy." Gojo hurries you into the back of the tinted Range Rover, entering on the left side. He signals the driver to shorten the route and closes the partition — his hand finds contact too high on your thigh and his look is exceedingly strained. "I'm not your enemy but you treat me like one, why?"

You chuckle and roll your eyes at his assertion, "You've been tormenting me since we were seven, and you think I have no reason to want you away from me?" When you look at him, his expression is one of perplexity. Torment? I used to put gifts in your locker, and from what I remember, you threw them out." Your face flushed from the accusation. "Well, I'd have kept them if you hadn't said anything about my physique. "Everyday, you said something demeaning which encouraged other people to say hurtful things. Now you all are in my shadow, I’m winning the gold ."

You turned to face Gojo and said this with the biggest smile on your face, but as soon as you saw the tear streaming down his hot cheeks, your smile fades. "What's wrong, you?" Even with a hint of worry in your voice, your countenance suggests dissatisfaction. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize, but I'd like another chance." In all honesty, Gojo doesn't give a damn about earning your favor. All he wants is what any man would want.

To win.

Gojo makes sure to be the ultimate gentleman as he ushers you out promptly as the car arrives at the village. When he offers his hand to help you out of the car and opens the compound door for you, he can see you're nervous and cautious because you pause. To be honest, you felt anxious at every turn, and when Gojo came up behind you, his arm clasped tightly around your waist. You didn't know why you two were at the compound without your coaches, or what he wanted, but you weren't enjoying it.

When he arrives at his room, he stops at the entrance and looks at you intently. "I set everything up for you because I want you to know how special you've been to me," he says as he opens the door. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla greets you, along with the sight of candles and petals scattered on the corridor floor. Gojo releases his hold on you as his hand travels to your lower back and softly presses you inside his room.

Although your instincts are going haywire, the environment appears in the opposite way. When you step fully into his room the corridor floor is only the tip of the iceberg. Gojo, rather, the person he hired to arrange the space, created a lavish pallet on the floor and surrounded it with a heart made of flowers. accompanied by a bouquet of flowers and a selection of finger appetizers. There are images of you from previous competitions, including ones where you lost, hanging on the walls with the term winner printed on them.

"Do you Iike it?" The pleasure on his face is palpable. In a normal situation, you would do anything to erase Gojo Satoru’s smile, but right now, it would be bittersweet. The amount of work he put in is both sweet and a little alarming, given that several of the images on display were taken when he was alone himself in the booth. You feel the silence begin to take on an unsettling note, so you turn to nod your head at the man, a small grin on your lips.

“Sit down, try the foods. I’ll be back with drinks!” Gojo disappears down the corridor and out the room door leaving you and your rapid heart alone. Thoughts were swirling in your head.

You could just leave.

What does all of this mean? I mean he did give you gifts when you were kids but you just chalked it up to him trying to buy you and throw you off your game.

Does he actually like you? Could it have been your announcement about you leaving?

You sit down on the pallet allowing your weak legs to rest and distract yourself with the white chocolate covered strawberries. Halfway through the patch and uncontrollable anxiety, Gojo comes in with a drink tray with two bottles of martell cognac l'or de jean and two glasses. “I see you enjoyed the strawberries, I made the beef yakitori but you have to try it with the miso ranch” he places the tray on the pallet and sits extremely close to you.

You take a seat on the pallet, allowing your ailing legs to relax, and use the strawberries coated in white chocolate as a distraction. Gojo enters with a drink tray with two glasses and two bottles of Martell Cognac L'Or de Jean halfway through the patch and uncontrollably anxiousness. He lays the tray on the pallet and sits quite close to you, saying, "I see you enjoyed the strawberries. I made the beef yakitori but you have to try it with the miso ranch." He picks up a piece of beef and dips half of it in the homemade ranch.

“Open” you look at the man as if he grew three head and laugh. You try to take the meat, saying, "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself," but Gojo pulls his hand back and gives you a stern look. Without a second thought you open your mouth to allow the man to feed you. Not only did you let him feed you once but the whole plate of beef along with the miso ranch.

Surprisingly, the beef is really soft, and when mixed with the miso ranch, it is exquisite. Gojo fed you the trend of white meal options, asking you what you thought of whatever he served you next and ensuring you finished at least half. You attribute it to his big ego, and he is still making whatever this is about himself, albeit in a minor way.

You begin to feel lighter, and your discussion with him has become comfortable, flirtatious even. Only when he places his hand on your thigh does your body react.

Your face is now hot, your mind is muddled, and his hand rubbing your thighs makes you want him to move his hand up higher under your skirt. You clear your throat and remind yourself who you’re with. "So, why did you actually do this? I didn't expect Gojo Satoru to be romantic” he hasn't taken his gaze away from you, but appears to be getting closer.

“Because you’re leaving and I know I won’t be able to stop you but I want to give you something to think about while you’re 17 thousands miles away.” It's the first time you've truly appreciated his appearance; he has subtle muscular physique. His lips appear smooth and plump, while his jawline is sharp. And his eyes? Women who testified about losing themselves in his gaze weren’t lying.

As your stare deepens, Gojo notices and seizes the opportunity to slide his hand up your leg and under your skirt. You pretend not to notice the precarious situation you've placed yourself in. Truthfully, all you want is for him to be beneath your skirt, to slide your panties to the side, and finger fuck you. Despite your increased heart rate and anxiety you don't stop him.

"Strip for me, princess," and your body becomes frigid instantly, making you appear almost ashamed. His eyes narrow as he leans in to whisper to you how much he wants you, how amazing you are, how he put this whole thing up for you, and how he begs you not to waste this lovely night. “You’re the one who let me put your hand up your skirt, don’t you want it?” You started to stammer and your pussy's heartbeat is becoming unbearable, but are you going to let this man defile you after he has attempted to humiliate you and make you feel inferior?

Gojo rolls his eyes and scoffs at your apprehension He starts to stand up, but your hand catches his arm and stops him instantly. "No, I think I want—" Before you can even finish speaking, Gojo covers you with his lips and hands. His thin fingers are hurrying through your clothing, admiring every inch of your body and snapping a mental image of your exposed breasts and pussy. His touch is light but frenzied and every kiss feels like it’s scorching your skin leaving an imprint on you.

Your body reacts beautifully to him which makes him hungry for you. Gojo is above you, staring down at you as you lie flat beneath him. Your gaze is locked on him, as though you're trying to assert your power and take charge of the circumstance in an effort to look less desperate and eager. He smiles and ask how much do you want it— with a cunning look on your face, you glare at him and repeat his question. The young man chuckles at you and pushes your legs apart by swiping his palm behind them.

Once your legs are spread, Gojo places his face close to your pussy, basking in its magnificence. "Is all of this for me?" He says before swiping his tongue through your slit. Your legs snap without warning, but his grip keeps you immobile. He revels in your flavor, the way your body heats up, and the way you try to hide your pleasure in your . This time, he didn't want to come up for air; he wanted to be buried in your wetness and hypnotized by your moans.

Your skin feels as like it is being scorched by every kiss and lick to your clit and hole. Gojo commands you to hold your legs up so he can stick two fingers into your dripping hole and curls them to give you the most ecstasy possible. He may be selfish, but he's definitely not when it comes to pleasure. You abandon your position to position your legs on his shoulders and tangle your fingers in his snow-white hair.

"Gojo~ I need- my head..I can't," you say as your legs start to tremble and your eyesight becomes white from the pleasure that has been building up. “You can take it princess, just hold on a little longer for me” he knows that he won’t stop until you've created a mess; you begin to urge the young man to stop so you can regain your breath, but he doesn't hear you at all. He looks up at you with his bright blue eyes and hums at the sight.

You have a face of pure bliss, your eyes are closed and your hair is starting to stick to your sweat covered body. Gojo has an unrelenting pace — you could do nothing but focus on releasing yourself on his blessed fingers. All he can hear after coming up is your ragged breathing which forms a smile on his face. “I would ask you how everything was but I can see you thoroughly enjoyed yourself”

“You fuck like a virgin who just got some for the first time.” Gojo smile is immediately wiped off his face. You sit up on your elbows but he pushes you back down and pulls out his angry throbbing member. “A virgin huh? Let me lose my virginity with you then” without warning he slides himself through your gummy walls. Now hovering over you, Gojo uses his hands to push one leg up and bend the other to your side. His face is beet red and you can tell he’s enjoying himself more than you are right now.

You want to fuck him, you can’t deny how he has you begging for him to move, yet everything feels forced in your mind. As your face starts to well up with tears, he notices and bends in to get near to your ear. "Aw, don't cry, I'll make it all better, okay?" you nod your head, and he replies "good girl.”

As much as he loves to tease you, he can no longer control himself. Although he intentionally uses deep, languid strokes, the louder your moans the quicker he thrusts into you. He's been saying in your ear all along how gorgeous, wet, and tight you are. How ever since he met you, he's been dreaming of this and wants to be the one man who can win your approval.

You become this lustful shell of yourself that just wants him to consume you, and everything begins to feel like an out-of-body experience. You cry out in desperation for him to go deeper and use you till he is unable to. When he lets go of your legs, you encircle them around his torso while wrapping your arms around his neck forcing his face into your neck.

Your mind is foggy and all you can think about is using your legs to drive him inside of you and lock him in place as Gojo takes advantage of this opportunity to leave as many markings on your neck as possible, intensifying the pleasure you're experiencing.

The young man is breathless at your actions and he makes a mocking tone saying you’re a desperate slut aren’t you? how about I give you something to remember me by”. He lifts his body up untangling your legs from his torso placing both of his palms behind your knees to extend them to the sides of your head, you whine at the lack of contact but he calms your hunger by pounding into you. Even if the action took you by surprise you start to moan and praise the man for fucking you so well.

The young man is breathless at your actions and remarks in a mocking manner, "You're a desperate slut, aren't you?" What if I gave you something to carry me with you forever? You whine at the absence of contact as he lifts his body up and separates your legs from his torso, extending both of his palms behind your knees and push them to the sides of your head. Gojo slams into you stifling your hunger. Even if the action took you by surprise, you start to moan and praise him for fucking you so well.

His climax happens quickly when you mutter, "I-I may just stay for you," in a breathless manner. He closes his eyes in an effort to continue for as long as possible considering he feels his balls getting tight. He desires to relish each instant spent within you, the way your walls enclose him, the firmness with which your hands clasp his arms, and the volume with which you utter his name. Gojo leans back toward you abruptly, giving you a passionate kiss and cums inside of you. Though you're mentally panicking out about the lack of protection, you quickly forget about it as he releases your hold on your limbs and turns you onto your tummy, telling you to lift your ass.

"That fat ass has to get love too, princess, don't be shy." Your embarrassment is the only reason for the heat that is starting to appear on your face. He scoops you up by your hips and slams into you, rolling his eyes at your hesitancy. He is aware of your sensitivity, but you wouldn't be aware of Gojo's struggle to endure the pain in order to prolong this time. Your ass jiggling with each thrust has him spellbound, and as he slides out of you to slam into you again, his dick is drenched.

At this moment, your pussy is hurting and you're crying, but the heatbeat is becoming worse. Then it dawns on you that he is the only one who can stop the excruciating feeling underneath. Your mind is immediately repulsed by the idea. Gojo Saturo, of all people, fucking you senselessly is shameful, but the young man wipes that notion away as soon as it occurs by grabbing your hair with one hand and playing with your clit with the other around your waist.

You were too high and fucked out to realize that Gojo had taken the remote and turned on the television before seizing you. You were so overstimulated that your legs were trembling, and your tears were blurring your vision. "Gojo, please, I just can't handle it any longer." The teleprompters are now announcing the male single winners, “Just let them announce the winners pretty, if you win I’ll give you a present okay?”

Your body became heavy and you can feel your thighs become wet from your climax and hear his win being announced. All he could hear from you now is sobs begging him to give you a second, this is what he wants, for you to break down on his dick. It goes without saying that Gojo takes home the gold, he saw the camera move to his coach; who was very upset over his absence and had a stone-cold expression on his face.

He didn’t want his movements to be soured by the display and leans his head back in bliss. He’s beyond sensitive and doesn’t want you to see the tears coming out of his eyes to. Not only did he win literally but he’s achieving his life long goal of ruining you. His next words are winded, “make sure you come back in nine months for your next present princess.”

Leaning his head back in delight, he didn't want the event to ruin his moves. His sensitivity is immense, and he would prefer that you not see the tears welling up in his eyes. Not only has he literally won, his lifelong ambition to ruin you has been achieved. He continues, "Make sure you come back in nine months for your next present, princess," in a taunting manner.

You continue to sob as Gojo bullies your overworked cunt, cumming again coating your tantalizing walls in white. He lets you go and once you hit the pallet your world goes black. Waking up you notice the space around you is pitch black, you attempt to get up and survey the surroundings but your body is incredibly sore.

You sob on and on as Gojo abuses your overworked cunt and once more covers your alluring walls in white. After he lets you go, you strike the pallet, and everything goes dark. When you wake up, you discover that the space is pitch black. You want to stand up and take in your surroundings, but your body hurts so much. From your head to in between your legs, you look and feel around for a light or at least your phone.

You jump back and scream as soon as you feel warmth and skin when you reach to your left. Your head is throbbing and you try to recollect the last few hours, but when you discover you can't, it just makes you feel more anxious. You stand up despite the fact that your legs are weak and sprint to the closest corner to make yourself appear smaller. Your final recollection is leaving the ice and talking with the interviewers. Besides that, you don’t know where you are, why you’re naked and who that is laying next to you.

“Why are you yelling princess, it’s late.”

Princess? When you hear the voice, your blood starts to boil, and you start to remember what transpired. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! GOJO SATORU YOU WAKE THE FUCK UP AND TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED," the man gets out of the duvet and moves across the room to turn on the light. He can't stop laughing when he sees you in the corner. "Princess, get up. I got you something."

The man walks to the nearest dresser, throws you in the shorts and shirt, and walks to the bathroom, seemingly unaffected by your outcry. It's amazing how calm someone can be when he's clearly done you some harm. But you get dressed immediately, grab your stuff from his room, and run out of there. "You sick bastard, I hope you know that I'm going to the authorities." A flurry of flashes from microphones and cameras jammed against your face greets you as soon as you open the door.

Questions about why you were in Gojo's room, whether you were actually unwell or if you skipped the rest of the competition to spend time with him, and why you were leaving in his clothing suddenly burst out of the seemingly small gathering. The sensation of his arms enveloping you, his naked chest resting on your back, and his murmur in your ear, "Gold winning Olympian misses her win to share intimate time with her new boyfriend," further intensifies your feelings of overwhelm. “I believe that is a catchy headline.”

Gojo got what he wanted, attaching you to him forever, hopefully in more ways than one.

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.

and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.

✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)

✦ featuring: alhaitham.

✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.

✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)

he didn’t know that it was your last day together. 

he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.

he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.

he didn’t think he’d lose you like this. 

he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow. 

“please, please,”  he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.” 

the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.

“wake up, please,”  he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—”  his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain. 

desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray. 

please, please tell me it’ll be okay. 

please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time. 

please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.  

“— just wake up, beloved.” 

by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere. 

no. no. this can’t be happening.

he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.

“alhaitham—” 

his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?  

“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.” 

those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.

i love you. 

he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.

until he can’t smell camphor anymore.

—

every person has their curiosities. 

they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.

for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.

after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?

alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things. 

number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person. 

he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.

and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away. 

you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.

you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.

‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”

alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.

and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’ 

“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.” 

“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”

“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”

those five more minutes were never five minutes long. 

but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.

—

alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play. 

“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,

i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!

oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,

wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”

you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.

loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.

but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones. 

a wish that you’d come back, somehow. 

he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did.  but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you. 

a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.

 he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.

“alhaitham, it's time to go.”  kaveh calls his name softly.

 alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,”  he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.” 

✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?

that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this

when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.

thanks for reading.

[lurkingshan]

What are your favorite examples of deep unbridled yearning in a bl? I think my is I told the sunset about you the way they used the coconut smell to showcase one the leads feelings for the other was so unique and sensual. He starts out hating coconut and how it smells but slowly as he falls in love he becomes obsessed with it since it's the other MLs unique scent and he uses it on everything, so we get a scene of him inhaling a paper written by the MLs coconut pen and then another one just devouring a coconut like it's the best thing in earth. I don't think I have ever seen such a depiction of attraction/love/lust that's so different but also visceral and beautiful and it really stuck with me. It's very different but it's one of the rare romance things that I'll never forget akin to the hand flex from pride and prejudice.

So you want to talk about yearning.

*Lan Wangji has entered the chat*

There’s a lot of good yearning in the romance genre, and plenty of bls feature it. The example you gave from ITSAY is definitely one of the standouts in terms of how visceral it felt. I will never forget Teh shoving his whole face into that coconut, or all the super charged scenes where he and Oh-aew stare at and touch each other and keep testing boundaries until they break.

There are definitely other expressions of yearning that stick out for me for one reason or another, and not all in this same tone.

The Untamed

Let’s get this out of the way upfront, because no one can step to this man on yearning. He adopted a whole child and named him after his yearning for his lost love. What I love about the presentation of Lan Wangji's particular flavor of yearning is how steady and matter of fact it is. He is always yearning for Wei Wuxian and it's just a part of who he is, whether his love is alive or dead. And while I love that Teh is such a big mess of emotions, I also like this more understated flavor of yearning where nothing is ever said out loud but Lan Wangji's feelings are clear in how he chooses to live his life. He's the poster boy for "actions speak louder than words."

Eternal Yesterday

I'm not sure if you've seen this one, but it's one of the most poignant and devastating depictions of yearning I have ever seen. Mitsuru yearned for Koichi so hard that he kept his body alive for precious extra days and his memory alive forever. Brb gonna go cry.

Utsukushii Kare 2

This is probably one of the more unique expressions of the emotion (on brand for this series), since this sequel season has Kiyoi yearning for the man who is already his boyfriend to love him for real instead of idolizing and holding him from a distance. It's one of my favorite explorations of how lonely we can feel even while in a relationship.

I Cannot Reach You

This show wins for best visual effects to convey yearning, with a beautiful bokeh effect taking over the screen in moments when the characters were extra in their feelings over each other.

Unknown

Wei Yuan's yearning was more of the desperate and hopeless variety, especially in his teens years when he knew his feelings for his adoptive older brother were impossible. I liked that his feelings were expressed via caretaking; he didn't think he could have the relationship he really wanted with Wei Qian, so he made it his mission to take care of him and help shoulder his burdens instead.

I Feel You Linger in the Air

This story stands out in my memory for its dedication to anticipatory yearning. That is, knowing a separation is coming against your will and yearning desperately for the person who is still in front of you. Yai and Jom did not want to let each other go despite knowing they could not stay together, and that yearning was so strong it ultimately connected them through time.

Theory of Love

And on the comedic end of the spectrum, I absolutely cannot end this list without giving a shoutout to one of the funniest manifestations of yearning that has ever graced my screen. Every time his feelings for Khai got overwhelming, Third ran to the bathroom for a Sadness Shower, and if the water wasn't working he was happy to improvise (and now I am cackling).

[leejenowrld]

can we have more mark and areum smut please 🙏

1. mark makes her squirt on command in front of a mirror they’re in the studio loft—white brick, floor-to-ceiling mirror, nothing but a rug and a view. areum’s on her knees, legs spread wide, wrists tied behind her back with the velvet belt from his coat. mark stands behind her, one hand buried between her thighs, the other holding her chin so she has to watch herself. “don’t look away,” he breathes, two fingers moving in slow circles against her soaked clit. “you’re going to come exactly when i tell you.” she’s shaking—desperate, panting, her inner thighs slick and glistening under the soft lights—and the moment he curls his fingers just right, her whole body jerks, water arcing out onto the floor. “fuck,” he whispers, grinning down at the mess. “again.”

2. areum rides his thigh in a high-rise elevator it’s late. the elevator’s empty. she drags him inside by the lapels and shoves him against the mirrored wall. “don’t move,” she says, hiking her dress up, not even bothering to take her panties off—just dragging them to the side and settling onto his thigh. mark’s eyes blow wide as she starts to grind, slow and deliberate, her breath already catching as the fabric of his trousers presses right where she needs it. he watches, frozen, cock twitching under his belt, as she uses him like a toy—one hand braced on the wall, the other tugging his hair back when his head drops. “keep watching,” she pants, hips grinding harder. “you don’t get to help. just sit there and take it.” by floor eighteen, she comes with a strangled gasp, smearing slick all over his leg—and kisses him just as the doors open.

3. mark lets her edge him with her feet for two hours he lost a bet. areum’s rules are simple—he’s not allowed to touch her, not allowed to come, not allowed to speak unless she tells him to. she lays him flat on the couch, blindfolded, wrists cuffed to the legs. then she slides her feet over his chest, down his stomach, until her arches settle over his cock, and starts stroking him—slow, sensual, maddening. he twitches with every glide, breath caught between moans and frustration, the arch of her foot pressing into the base of him, toes teasing his slit until he’s leaking onto his stomach. “you’re embarrassing yourself,” she murmurs, watching his abs tighten. “soaked just from my feet?” two hours pass before she lets him finish—on command, messily, spilling all over her soles.

4. areum makes him fuck her through her favorite perfume she sprays it across her chest, her thighs, even the sheets. jasmine and musk and danger. “you’re gonna ruin it,” she says, dragging him down onto the bed. “you’re gonna fuck me so hard it stops smelling like me.” he doesn’t hold back—mark pins her wrists above her head and ruts into her like she’s the only thing keeping him alive, the room thick with her scent and their sweat. every thrust knocks the air out of her, her perfume staining his skin, her moans rising and breaking as his hips drive harder, deeper, messier. he comes with his nose buried in her neck, high off her scent, desperate to memorize the way she smelled while he broke her open.

5. mark eats her out while she’s half-asleep in lace (consensual ofc !!!!) it’s three a.m. she’s in one of his shirts, barely buttoned, lace panties damp against her thighs. mark’s awake—hard, restless, starving. he crawls under the covers and settles between her legs, nudging her thighs open without a word. she stirs when his tongue presses against her clit, breath hitching, but he’s already locked in—soft, slow licks that grow more intense, more focused, until her hips lift off the bed. she grabs his hair, murmurs his name half-delirious, but he doesn’t stop—doesn’t say a word—just drags orgasm after orgasm out of her with the kind of patience that only obsession can buy. when she finally opens her eyes, dazed and flushed, he kisses her thigh and whispers, “couldn’t sleep.”

6. she ruins him with a double orgasm—hands off she tells him to sit back. hands at his sides. no touching. she lowers herself onto his cock and doesn’t move—just clenches, pulses, keeps him still while she plays with herself, one leg thrown over his lap, head tilted back. mark’s jaw is locked, every muscle in his body begging to thrust, to move, to do anything, but she holds him there with nothing but rhythm and control. “watch,” she says, breath shaky as she rubs her clit harder. “you’re gonna feel me come, and then you’re gonna beg to follow.” and he does—he begs, whines, pleads with broken words while she comes first, tight and wet and squeezing around him until his whole body shakes. she lets him come inside her two minutes later, untouched, just from the pressure of her voice and the way her body rides him out.

[starie-leo]

Hi fellow Leo, can you touch on Lilith conjunctions in synastry? Specifically your experience as well. :) I currently have a guys Lilith conjunct my sun.

My Experience With Lilith Synastry

General Meaning:

"Lilith relates to: love-triangles and infidelity, being the other man or woman, sexual allure and attraction; both feminism and misogyny; abortion, miscarriages, infertility; adoption and lost children; outsiders, wildness, taboo-breaking, rule-breaking, sheer outright craziness; wild beauty, wilderness itself and being cast into the wilderness; both inability to love and fierce desire; aloneness; witchcraft and magic; natural power; abuse and retribution. There is more, but suffice to say, I never disregard Lilith when looking at a chart." — https://oxfordastrologer.com

Usually Lilith in a hetero men's chart represents the woman he's both incredibly sexually attracted to, hates and fears, the woman he wants to tame and possess but can't, and Lilith for women represents the dark feminine side, the wild woman archetype, how and where you rebel, break taboos and face punishment, and why and where you get outcasted.

I never actually dated any of the guys I'm talking about but we were friends/in the talking stages. Also I apologize in advance if this is too negative, lilith synastry can have some positives from what I've heard, I personally just never had any unfortunately.

Guy 1: His Leo Lilith Conjunct My Sun

We were friends for a long time and he was very attracted to me — sexually more — and very obsessed with me but he also secretly hated me a lot. He was very possessive and would talk shit about anyone I talked to or was friends with, even though we were just friends and I made it clear that I don't see him in a romantic light. We were similar in terms of toxicity and we also brought out the worst in each other most times. When he first asked me out, I rejected him and he's been bitter ever since. After the rejection, the awkwardness made us fall out with each other for a bit until I saw him again after 2 years and he had a girlfriend at that time too so I thought we could be friends again because I felt bad for what happened. But what I didn't know is that for the time we weren't in touch he was cyberstalking me and was doing the most to tarnish my reputation as a way to get back at me the whole time. His girlfriend hated me a lot too but at that time I didn't know why but later I found out it was cause he would talk about how much he hates me a lot to her and his friends told me he hated me for ignoring him after the rejection (I didn't, he did lol). Then he made a move on me again and he also wanted me to be his side chick so I cut him off for good.

Guy 2: His Virgo Lilith Conjunct My Venus

I was in the talking stage with this guy I met in one of my classes. He was also very attracted to me (once again, more sexually than romantically) and very obsessed right from the start. I wasn't as attracted to him as he was to me. When he asked me out, I said yes and went out with him. After the first date, he started getting all entitled for sex and kept asking me for my nude pictures so I cut him off and ghosted him. A few days later I find out he also had a girl and he was talking shit about me to her and others. Then he broke up with her and started telling everyone and their mother that I'm the one who was desperate to date him and broke up their relationship, obviously none of that was true and I had to clear my name for months. I have yet to receive an apology for this bs >:(.

Final thoughts: This synastry is very sexual, obsessive and intense and in a way is similar to what people consider pluto & 8H synastry. I think lilith synastry really depends on individual charts and can work if both people have a prominent lilith or a lilith conjunction in natal cause then they would know how to handle this kind of energy.

Note: I also had nodal synastry with both of them and I've got natal venus in 12H so that probably played into this too.

@dippindots0

[kindlyfeline]

my heart beats for you

Such gentle hands, cherishing him with an admiration he didn’t deserve.

- This is set during the romance scene near the end of the game where Lucanis says, "I thought I'd never see you again." Basically filling in the gap after Spite's wings come down ;)

-

pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook (named Rook - Maya de Riva)

rating: Explicit

includes: fluff and smut, first time, foreplay, penis in vagina sex, creampie, lucanis is a virgin, emmrich and taash mentioned in passing, angst if you squint, im in love with lucanis dellamorte <3

read on ao3 • read my other work

A smile like sunshine broke out across her face as she gazed up at him, taking in his profound beauty. His dark hair was slightly mussed and falling about his shoulders. Deep, dark eyes blown wide in adoration. Lucanis mirrored her smile until he noticed his heartbeat thundering in his ears and faltered slightly.

As he looked into her eyes his emotions and nerves all caught up to him.

He had suffered days, weeks , believing she was lost to him. Stuck in some fugue state where he couldn’t think straight or move forward, anchored to the memory of her.

Rook. Maya . Her thick, chestnut hair that he longed to touch and thread his fingers through. Her sheer strength of will and ability to command the room. How her amethyst hazel eyes glistened in the Rivaini sunlight.

That day a month prior when he was brave and almost kissed her. A gentle tap of her finger on his chest, no direct skin contact, yet still it set his blood alight. Her warmth. Spite’s voice ringing in his ears: Beautiful Rook. Smells like oranges. Earth. Kiss her, Lucanis. She wants to. You want to. I want to taste Rook.

And again when it was just them; her quiet footsteps across the kitchen coming to check on him, spending endless nights staying up and tanking coffees with him. Her softness, her tenderness. “I never really liked coffee until I met you.” Her voice with that maddening accent and the way she pronounced his name… Gone. All gone.

He should have kissed her. Just once. At least once. Should have told her how he really felt. How she helped him live. How she helped him believe in life again. How he loved her.

Then Emmrich came to him with ramblings of ‘fade weakenings’, thin parts of the veil where they might be able to make contact with her. Lucanis didn’t buy it at first, afraid to give in to hope, but Spite latched on immediately and soon became obsessive. So they ventured out every single day to search for her; he, Emmrich and Taash. It helped to have something to do, something to fight and kill. From the haunted look in their eyes, he knew Taash felt the same. Flashes of Venatori blood on his blades kept him burning, even through Spite’s howling grief and complaints each night they returned to the Lighthouse empty-handed. No Rook! Didn’t smell her. Nothing. Lucanisss, she’s really…gone?!

Until today, when Emmrich’s plan finally worked and they managed to pull her from the Fade. The first word on her lips had been his name. “Lucanis?! You’re okay?” After everything, she was concerned about him? How his heart sang and ached in equal measure.

Though what was he to do now with all his grief? She had returned, true, but where would the mourning go? Would it seep deep into the cracks of his soul only to transform and return should he ever lose her again? He scarcely allowed himself to consider it, mind reeling too much already. Besides, what he had to worry about right now was what he would do if his inexperience disappointed her…

Abruptly, Spite yanked him back to the present. Stop thinking. Do it. Kiss again. We want her.

With the impending doom of tomorrow looming in the back of his mind, Lucanis acknowledged that Spite was right: it was now or never.

“Maya, I… I’ve never… done this before,” he hesitantly confessed. 

He watched her features flash with surprise before relaxing back into an easy smile.

“That’s okay, sweet boy, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” she offered.

Praying he didn’t sound too eager, but spurred on by Spite prickling his ears, “No, I want to. I just… might not be… very good…”

Tut . Maya gently shook her head and stroked her fingertips down his cheek. Her heart swelled as he glanced back at her with those eyes. Those eyes she could drown in. He was so beautiful.

“That doesn’t matter,” she quickly followed up, smoothing her other hand up his chest to play with the crow chain at his collar. “Just do what feels comfortable. We can take our time,” she soothed, even though she was fighting not to acknowledge the tingling at her core and how she was starting to soak through her underwear.

Fears somewhat assuaged, Lucanis curled a lock of her hair around his finger, just as soft as he had always imagined, and murmured, “I had never known beauty until I saw you.”

Maya felt tears spiking her eyes, threatening to spill, so instead she cupped his jaw and crashed their lips together. Lucanis let out a breathy moan and responded passionately, hands immediately moving to hold her waist. Her hand at his collar rapidly started to work at his clothing and was soon joined by the other as she unclasped the chain and undid the buttons of his shirt and waistcoat. Every inch of his skin that was revealed to her she fawned over with her mouth and tongue and hands. Such gentle hands, cherishing him with an admiration he didn’t deserve. 

Gingerly, he skated his hands over her curves and revelled in her plushness as he kneaded her breasts. This earned him soft gasps and whimpers sweeter than any song he knew. He felt giddy as he rolled one of her nipples between his fingers. She felt so wonderful in his hands. She was perfect. His fingers came to hold the hem of her sleep shirt, loosely, questioningly.

“Is it okay if I take…?” he trailed off because she was already nodding and kissing him again, warm fingers of one hand gripping his and encouraging him to remove her shirt. She was bare beneath it, much to his delight.

When they had to separate to throw their respective shirts out of the way, Lucanis caught her gaze once more and the need and desire pouring from her drove him wild. Without a second thought, he left scorching kisses and sucks across her breasts, down the supple flesh of her stomach to her waistband. Then, he barely even hesitated before hooking his fingertips over and pulling her trousers down, slow, teasing . Her eyes never left his, electricity sparking between them.

Once she was bared to him he casually dropped her trousers on the floor and sat back to take her in. The bronzed planes of her body were littered with tattoos he planned to memorise and scars he longed to press delicate kisses to. She was untrimmed, and that only made him crazier.

Mmmm, our Rook~ Spite purred behind him as Lucanis shamelessly inhaled her scent and salivated over her nakedness. He yearned to taste her pussy, drink her syrup, wished to devour her whole and not stop until she begged him to. Although that would have to wait. As of now, he was more in need of seeing her face and watching her reactions.

Maya squirmed under the scrutiny of his heavy gaze and pressed her thighs together. She wasn’t new to sexual encounters like Lucanis apparently was, however nothing before had ever felt so…intense.

Managing to control his gawking, Lucanis swiftly scooted back up to kiss her again. 

“Can I touch you?” he asked, dulcet tones so quiet that she perhaps wouldn’t have heard him, was she not pressed beneath him and hanging on his every action. Their noses bumped together as she nodded enthusiastically and he pressed another sweet kiss to her lips.

To her surprise, his hand moved to her own, took it and slid it slowly down, down, down her body. Goosebumps broke out across her flesh as he arranged their hands over her mound, his fingers ghosting atop hers. They kissed again, deeply, tongues pressed together in a way that made her moan as her free hand snaked into his hair. She could never tire of this.

“Show me,” he then whispered, “Show me what to do. Show me how you like it.”

A fiery thrill coursed through her and, with a grin, she swapped their hands over and pressed his middle finger between her folds. His lips parted to inhale faintly. She was soaked .

“See how wet I am for you?” she breathed.

It was at that moment that Lucanis became acutely aware of how restricting his slacks had become. Maya then moved their fingers to swipe up through her silky folds until the pad of his finger bumped over a small nub. He couldn’t ignore the way her breath hitched once she started circling his finger around it, eyes fixed on her pink tongue darting out to wet her lips, the swallow of her throat before she spoke.

“Feel that?” Lucanis nodded. He’d read about this; the clitoris . “It’s good there.”

He was so tender in his ministrations that followed, so attentive. He placed an open-mouthed kiss to the juncture between her neck and shoulder, licking the salt from her skin and sighing her name.

Every swipe, every circle around her clit was utterly exhilarating. The pleasure permeated through her pelvis and up, an ember growing and growing with every passing second. 

Her fingers pressed down firmly on his to apply more pressure and Lucanis quickly picked up on the hint. He increased the pace and press against her clit and started to switch between directions intermittently. Maya’s hand moved from his to grip his shoulder, his bicep, her breathing rapidly progressing into panting. She was unravelling embarrassingly fast, though she couldn’t seem to care, instead focussed on her Talon and his dexterous fingers driving her over the edge.

“Oh, Lucanis, I-” she managed before the pure force of her orgasm crashed over her. She pressed her head back into the couch, eyes screwed shut and mouth wide open in a silent cry. Her back arched and her chest pressed against his, pert nipples crushing into him. A wanton moan escaped him as she tugged his hair in a tight fist. 

It wasn’t until Maya’s legs began to shake and her hand shot down to grab his wrist that he slowed to a stop. Still breathing heavily, Maya used the hand in his hair to bring Lucanis to her and pulled him into a delicious, loving kiss.

“You,” she exclaimed, breathless between kisses, “you are wonderful. You are gorgeous.”

He huffed a chuckle, disbelief trickling through, and wrapped an arm around her back to hold her close.

“So, it was okay?” he murmured. He sounded more uncertain than he had meant to and he glanced away skittishly.

A wide smile spread across her face as she cocked her head at him, “you know it was.”

When he looked back at her, her demeanor had changed. That same desire was bubbling away beneath the surface, but this time an intense, primal hunger had coloured her eyes. She moved, smooth and intentful, palm against his chest pushing him to sit with his back flush to the couch back. He acquiesced, of course. He would give her anything, everything.

Next, she straddled him, and the proximity of her glistening pussy to his still-clothed cock had his head spinning. She cradled his head in her hands, carding fingertips through his beard.

“Can I ride you?” she asked in a husky voice that went straight to his dick. Daunted, Lucanis swallowed thickly. He was not about to say no, however. He couldn’t possibly. His desperation for Rook, his Rook, was at a fever-pitch, burning lava-hot from the inside out.

“Yes,” he breathed. His eyes were dark with lust and a tinge of violet. They kissed again, a clashing of lips and tongue and teeth, unable to get enough of each other. Maya ground down against him a couple of times and he shuddered a groan into her mouth.

“Is this okay?” Maya asked against his lips as she moved her hand to palm his cock through his leather trousers. His breath hitched and he nodded fervently.

He was so, so hard. And leaking. She could tell even through the layers of fabric. It made her grin against his lips and deepen the kiss. She was trying to take it slow on account of his inexperience, but all she was thinking about was what he would feel like inside her and how much she wanted to make him come. Her pussy thrummed in anticipation. She gave the hair at the nape of his neck a tentative tug and earned a breathy moan in response, his hands on her hips in reverence. 

Unable to hold back any longer, she deftly worked his trouser ties and underwear open to free him, then tentatively wrapped a hand around his cock.

Lucanis bucked and let out a tiny high-pitched gasp at the contact. The movement of his lips and tongue against hers faltered.

“Should I stop?” Maya asked immediately and pulled an inch or two away to assess his expression. His chest rose and fell rapidly, stutteringly. Big doe eyes looked back at her with such adoration it made her whole body flush anew.

“N-no,” he breathed, “sorry, it’s just… new. Please, keep going.”

She smiled coyly and started to pump his cock steadily, as unhurried as she could muster. He was so sensitive, so responsive, whimpering every time her fingers brushed the head of his cock, hips rolling subconsciously. He was already sticky and messy, beads of precome dribbling out of his tip, down the shaft and over her fingers. She took a sneaky peak down and found herself unable to take her eyes off him. He was large and much thicker than she had imagined. Her pussy clenched painfully around nothing. The ache for him was gnawing at her.

Lucanis bit his lip hard. His need became fanatical and even though her hand on him was delightful, he was desperate for more. Spite, ever present, ever demanding, whined loudly in his head: Inside! Want to feel Rook. Feel inside her. Now!

“Maya, please. I want- I need- … Please,” his speech left his mouth in a tumble he figured was nearly incomprehensible, but Maya knew him, she understood him. She was there, right there with him, her smiling face the greatest comfort he had ever known.

Her fingers lightly took him by the base and guided his cock to catch at her entrance, the feeling making them both jolt with pleasure. Lucanis could not hold back the moan that clawed its way out of his throat as she sank down onto him. Another inch had him winded and he suddenly squeezed her hips in an attempt to still her. 

“Ah, Maya!” he gasped out, her cunt so soft and warm and tight it made him lightheaded.

“I know, I know, it’s okay,” she comforted, one hand tracing patterns at the nape of his neck and the other dancing over his chest and stomach, stroking the soft hairs there. 

She peppered kisses all over his face to help distract him; across his cheekbones, his eyes screwed shut, his sharp nose, along his jaw. His beard was fluffy and tickly on her lips. His gulps for breath started to even out.

Meanwhile, Maya was adjusting to the exquisite stretch of him inside her. She hummed lightly as his hold on her hips loosened and one of his hands went to her shoulder blades, clutching her ever closer. She took this opportunity to sink down fully onto his cock, blunt head parting her walls, pressing deep inside. Lucanis moaned gutturally and let his head fall forward against her collarbone. Even in his wildest fantasies he could not have imagined this feeling, his dick buried to the hilt within Maya’s heavenly pussy squeezing all around him. He gazed up at her, mouth slack in awe, watching the candlelight dance across her skin. She was completely ethereal in the glow. For a moment he felt in a trance. There was no way everything had led here; everything he had done had led him to her. And this gorgeous creature had chosen him, pursued him .

“Are you alright, love?” she questioned quietly and placed a kiss at his temple.

A shaking breath in, a steadying breath out. Aiming to calm himself, he kissed languidly up her neck and jaw before whispering against her cheek, “sí, yes. Please, move. Use me.”

“Fuck, Lucanis,” Maya half sobbed as she began to move her hips in a deliberate, persistent rhythm. The agonising drag of him inside her had her eyes rolling back in her skull, his cock catching on each ridge and crease within her. She felt every twitch and throb of him. It was intoxicating. 

Lucanis watched her move, mouth agape and hard-pressed for air, breath coming in short pants as she soon increased her pace. Her cunt coiled tighter and tighter around him with each rock of her pelvis. Lucanis saw stars.

The obscene squelching sound of her pussy only spurred her on, infatuated with the thrust of his cock over and over again against that ineffable spot buried within her. Coupled with the whimpered mantra of his name falling from her lips and her hand tugging at his hair, Lucanis knew he would soon come undone.

“Maya, I can’t- Maya I- I’m going to come,” he managed, cock already throbbing, the tip smushed in a deep kiss against her cervix.

“It’s okay,” an elicit moan, “c-come inside me.”

That was all it took for him to fall over the edge. A feral whine ripped from him as his dick pulsed and thick ropes of release coated Maya’s insides. His entire body spasmed in exquisite pleasure and he clutched onto her for dear life, voice cracking from moaning and gasping. The choke of her hot cunt came in quick, repeated beats, draining him of all he had.

Once their crescendos began to subside, she held his head and caressed his flushed cheeks while offering him a sloppy, hungry kiss. Lucanis opened his eyes to her like a man seeing the dawn for the first time. She thumbed away the tears pricking the corners of his eyes and kissed him again.

“You are so perfect, Lucanis,” she mumbled, eyes peering into his, sparkling with adoration. Frazzled, he simply grinned, toothy wide and love-drunk.

Even if they died tomorrow, if they failed and everything in the world ended, Lucanis decided it would be okay. Because he had her. He had Maya. She had found him and saved him.

~ END

thank you so much for reading!!! i haven't written anything in a long time and i feel quite nervous posting this but i really hope you enjoyed 💜

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[lemiko0]

FIRST COME FIRST SERVE

WARNINGS: obsessive thoughts/ behaviors, unhealthy relationships and homos.

I WILL MAKE A BOY VERSION OF THIS WHEN I'M DONE WITH THE SERIES!

MASTERLIST!

INTRODUCTION - PART 1 [Name] is probably one of the prettiest girls in her college. All the boys fawn over her except she wasn’t really interested in getting into a relationship however she did have small crushes on some boys, but she never was serious with it. She was best friends with Isagi and Bachira! Except [name] thought Isagi was gay for Kurona since he kind of was a little sus with him but hey! A little homosexual never hurted anyone?Bachira was probably the closest to [name] they’d gossip all the time like two peas in a pod! [name] had many friends! Nagi and Reo would hang out with [name] at the arcade sometimes on the weekends! Meanwhile Sae and Shidou would teach [name] how to play soccer! Meanwhile Chigiri and Kunigami would go on weekly walks with [name]! And then Kaiser and Ness where [name]’s study partner! [name] always made time for them and would give them all attention without them knowing about the other people. “So wanna go bowling with me and Kurona? We’re going to invite [name] too” Isagi asked Bachira while walking down the campus “Oh [name] won’t be able to go” Bachira said smiling “Huh? Why’s that?” Isagi asked, confused “Oh you didn’t know? Tomorrow [name] has her weekly walk with Chigiri and Kunigami” Isagi froze ‘A walk? Without him knowing?’ Isagi thought to himself “Oh come on you seriously did not think you're the only one that likes [name]” Bachira giggled “What do you mean?” Isagi asked, “Here’s her calendar of plans” Bachira said, handing Isagi a paper with plans of hanging out with someone that wasn't him, Kurona, or Bachira. It made him sick. As soon as he got home to Kurona he grabbed his wrist taking him to his room “Isagi what happened?” Kurona asked, confused. As soon as Isagi sat Kurona on his bed he gave him the paper Bachira gave him “[name] has been seeing other guys without us knowing!” Isagi said, “Seriously?” Kurona asked, annoyed by this new information “What should we do?” Isagi asked Kurona “We get her before anyone else can” Kurona said smiling 

So then that's when it started when everything was about to change. First it was Isagi and Kurona getting touchy and flirty with you and you didn’t mind at all. Until they started getting involved in your plans with the other guys. When you went on your walk with Chirgiri and Kunigami suddenly Kurona comes out of nowhere and gives you the biggest hug even kissing your cheek in front of Chigiri and Kunigami “Seriously Kurona what has gotten into you?” You say giggling as you push him off “I just wanted to ask if you wanted to get some ice cream” Kurona said giggling putting his arm on top of your shoulder. Kunigami and Chigiri were confused. Why were you so close to Kurona? It pissed them off “Hey back off we were going on a walk with her” Kunigami said annoyed “Woah woah calm down I didn’t know I was just asking [name] if they wanted ice cream” Kurona said smiling “Too bad get lost already” Chigiri said annoyed “Fine I will but just know [name] the offer still stands! See you tomorrow” Kurona says while walking behind the building to see Isagi “Operation 1 done” Kurona says smiling “so next target will be Nagi and Reo” Isagi said while walking.

“What was that about?” Kunigami asked “Sorry Kurona and Isagi have been getting clingier with me recently I don’t know why” You said a bit embarrassed “So do you let all your friends touch you like that?” Chigiri asked, grabbing you by the waist making you bright red “Is that not normal?” You asked flustered before Kunigami kissed you on the lips making you freak out “Kunigami what was that for!” You asked embarrassed “It’s only fair if you give us a kiss as well” Chigiri said smiling. After the walk you went home and found Bachira on your couch “Oh hey” You said as you put your coat up on the coat hanger “Hey [name] be careful of who you hang out with” Bachira said getting up “Why?” you asked “The monster is telling me something is going to happen to you” Bachira warned leaving the house ‘creepy’ you thought.

The next day you're at the local arcade with Nagi and Reo. Nagi is trying to win you a plushie at a claw machine while you and Reo cheer for him until you suddenly got grabbed from behind making you yelp but being cut off by a kiss Reo saw and was in disbelief same with Nagi “Seriously Isagi you to?” You giggle while pushing him off you Nagi was pissed “What's your deal?” Reo said grabbing you “Calm down Reo we are just friends” Isagi said smiling “Friends don’t kiss each other!” Nagi said mad “Well [name] doesn’t seem to have a problem with it” Isagi defended himself then Reo proceeded to kiss you suddenly making you red “If thats so she’d be okay with us kissing her as well, wouldn’t she?” Nagi teased Isagi and stood there speechless. He didn't think they’d kiss you back. Isagi then proceeded to leave and took a guy with him who you assume was Kurona.

You guys didn’t think much and continued your routine. After the arcades you went outside for some fresh air. The sunset was beautiful, the birds on the power lines chirped, the wind was fresh and then boom! You see a cat! Of course you can’t resist cats! They’re adorable! So of course, you're going to follow the cat to give him some food even if he goes into a dark alleyway where there is no one, what could possibly go wrong? And that was the last thing you thought of before being grabbed and a piece of cloth goes over your mouth preventing your screams making you dizzy!

“[name]! Where are you?” Is the last sentence you heard of the outside world

INTRODUCTION (DONE)

THIS KINDA WAS ALL OVER THE PLACE I PROMISE FUTURE CHAPTERS WILL BE BETTER