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nadvs · 9 months ago

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better off (part three) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you and rafe take time apart to try to get better for each other. it’s harder than both of you expected.

warnings toxic relationship, smut

» part one / part two

» masterlist

Rafe knew he’d see you around. He figured that he’d spot you at parties. After all, a party is where you two met.

And he knew it’d be hard to act like strangers. But not this hard.

It’s been almost a week since the day at the marina. As he watches you in the crowd across the room, he’s afraid of breaking some unwritten rule by starting a conversation with you.

You said to give it a few weeks, then you’d talk. It’s been just six days. And he’s losing his mind.

The month of silence after your break-up was hard enough. At least he was just angry then, numbing the pain. But this? Having you at an arm’s length, but leaving you alone for the sake of ‘getting better’?

He felt so stupid getting home after your conversation. He didn’t even know where to start. Staring at his ceiling. Wondering what the hell getting better even looked like.

His friends would laugh their asses off if they saw his search history. ‘How to be a good boyfriend’ has to be among the most embarrassing searches.

That stuff should just come naturally, but he’s been filling up the album named after you in his phone with screenshots. Now, piled up after his favorite photos of you are snippets from advice columns and articles.

Rafe has always felt a twinge deep in his core that he doesn’t measure up. He’s missing something that would deem him good enough. He knew from a young age from the way his anger consumed him that there was something off.

That’s why it felt like a dagger to his heart any time you told him there was something wrong with him. He hated the confirmation. And that’s why he’d say whatever he could to hurt you just as bad.

It always seemed to hit you the hardest when he said no other person would want to put up with you. You shut down whenever he said that. It gave him a sick sense of power. But that’s what he’s trying to get away from. Being sick.

It’s nerve-wracking. Knowing he’ll have to prove himself to you. Wondering if maybe after all this, you’ll come to the conclusion that you shouldn’t be together at all. You said you were bad for each other countless times throughout your relationship.

The anxiety flooding his body sharpens when he sees a guy start talking to you. And you actually start talking back.

Hot, urgent rage flares in his chest. Normally, if you were together, he’d waste no time rushing over there, pushing the idiot away and yelling at you for entertaining him for even a second.

But are you even together? While he wouldn’t be interested in talking to another girl right now, you don’t seem to feel the same way, looking pretty with a smile on your face while you talk to the stranger.

His anger is just getting worse. He needs to get the fuck out of here. He pushes past the crowds and finds himself in a bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

He’s hunched over the sink and staring at the mirror, his lips parted as he breathes heavily. He has coke in his pocket. He wants to use it.

But it always just makes him more wired and paranoid. And he thinks part of getting better is not giving into these sorts of vices. It feels like his only option for some sort of release, though.

He stands up straight, the heels of his hands over his aching eyes as he paces back and forth over the tiled floor. Crying again. It’s all his body has been wanting to do since you broke up, but he usually can find a way to stop through a bottle or a line.

“Stop,” he whispers to himself. “You’re being a fucking pussy. Stop.”

Maybe that guy isn’t a stranger to you. Maybe you’ve been talking to him, planning to leave Rafe in your past. Maybe all this being healthy alone to be healthy together shit is a game you’re playing just to abandon him in the end.

Goddamn it. He’s spiralling.

A few rapid knocks on the door pull him out of his thoughts.

“Fuck off,” he shouts.

“Are you okay?”

He flattens his lips, his heart twisting once he realizes it’s you, the only person he’d open the door for right now.

He looks at his reflection. He turns on the tap to splash cold water on his face so you can’t tell he’s been crying. But in his haste, he wets the front of his shirt too, and lets out a frustrated groan.

He swings open the door. Your eyes are full of worry. And they’re beautiful and look like home. Six days is a fucking eternity.

“Hey,” you say, your brows furrowed. “Did I cross a line or something?“

“What?” Rafe says.

“Why’d you run off after I texted you?”

He feels for his phone in his pocket and pulls it out to see a text from you. Can you save me from this guy?

“I - I didn’t see this,” he stammers. He realizes this means you don’t have him blocked anymore.

“What happened?” you say, your eyes dropping to his chest, a dark, wet splotch spread across his t-shirt.

“Did he do something?” he asks at the same time.

“You first,” you say with a small smile.

“It’s just water,” he says, quick to shift the attention back onto you. “Did he?”

You look over your shoulder, back in the direction of the front room where the party is.

“No, he was just trying to hit on me and I wasn’t in the mood,” you say. You’re relieved Rafe didn’t purposely ditch you after you texted him, like you thought.

It feels so familiar, him being so protective over you. He’s thrown quite a few punches in the name of keeping you safe and claiming you as his.

Maybe it was toxic to like watching your boyfriend swing at guys who made you uncomfortable, but you didn’t care. Other girls would try to pull their boyfriends away from fights. You would watch yours with a smile on your face.

You meet Rafe’s eyes again. Even though you’re the one who told him you wouldn’t speak for a while, you were worried you messed something up by contacting him. But he looks anguished over missing a message from you.

For once, the struggle for dominance between you doesn’t feel like a struggle at all. He so obviously just wants to be good with you again. You hold all the power.

“Don’t stress. It’s fine,” you say sympathetically. “He finally left me alone.”

You don’t tell him you told the pushy guy you were going to look for your boyfriend. Because while you feel optimistic about what the future holds for you and Rafe, you can’t say you’re entirely confident you can both do this. And calling him your boyfriend again feels like too much right now.

The more you think about it, the more you realize just how broken you both are. You’ve been reading about how important it is to learn the underlying reasons for toxic behavior. And the two of you never liked facing your demons.

Rafe shuffles in place. It’s nice to be talking to him again, but by how stiff he seems, you’re doubting that he shares the sentiment.

“Why were you smiling at him?” he mutters.

The edge to his tone and the hard way he’s looking at you throw you right back to when you were dating. To the dread you’d feel when you knew an argument was starting.

“I was being polite,” you say.

“Polite,” he huffs. “If you want to keep your options open, you can just fucking say that.”

That. That’s what keeps you from allowing yourself to slip into the warm comfort of hope. You didn’t expect a change overnight, but this is the exact same man who left you on the marina.

Jealous. Domineering. Combative. No improvement at all.

“Are you hearing yourself?” you say, bitterness swirling in you. “I literally texted you asking you to rescue me.”

“You were giving him attention,” he says, “and then what, he said something you didn’t like and you decided to stop ‘being polite’? If you want to talk to other guys, own up to it.“

Frustration tenses through your muscles.

“I don’t want to talk to other guys,” you state. “I told you, I want to be healthy on my own first.”

“Sure,” he scoffs. You know this feeling all too well, the sense of betrayal when he dismisses you and acts like you’re making shit up.

“So, I’m lying?” you mutter.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he says. He notices you flinch in embarrassment.

He’s still holding it over you, the way you let him believe you had someone new after you broke up.

You were wrong. The power struggle between you is still very much alive.

“This is exactly why we shouldn’t be talking,” you snap. The ugly impulse to be mean to him rises in you. “This is you trying to better yourself? Dick.”

You turn around to walk away. He hates himself for it. The fear of being left is such a powerful force, always taking him captive, always making him act possessively.

But he’s not wrong. You were smiling at that guy. And you have lied in the past.

He calls your name. You ignore him.

The next morning, you sit on your front porch with your phone in your hand. Rafe texted you early this morning.

Need to work on my jealousy. I know.

It’s weird, witnessing him admit to a wrongdoing. It’s not a sorry. But it’s something.

And despite your rash words, you’re proud of yourself for walking away last night. The old you would’ve stuck around for a screaming match. But you don’t want to be the old you anymore.

You finally reply: i shouldn’t have called you that.

He texts back: I deserved it.

You put your phone down. The exchange was stiff and almost formal, a far cry from how you’d normally speak to each other, but it feels like a step in the right direction.

Days pass. Rafe wishes you replied. He said he deserved it just so you’d say he didn’t.

But he used to do this a lot; saying or doing things just to get a specific reaction out of you. That might be part of what makes him sick.

The next weekend, you don’t see Rafe at your mutual friend’s beach party. It’s strange, considering he hardly ever misses an opportunity to get drunk with his buddies.

You look over to his group of friends for what feels like the hundredth time. He’s not there.

You were looking forward to seeing him. Maybe even talking to him. It’s been two weeks since you decided to try to better yourselves, and even though he hasn’t technically been your boyfriend for a month and a half now, missing him never gets easier.

You pull out your phone every so often, going back and forth between if you should text him. You check his social accounts, having unblocked him and refollowed him a few days ago, to see he hasn’t posted anything lately.

Step by step, you’re making space for him in your life again. Really, the space he once filled never went away. It’s just an empty void now.

This time apart idea is stupid.

You stop yourself from indulging in the thought. You did all the time back when you were dating - it becomes addictive to tell yourself whatever you were fighting over wasn’t a big deal. That you should just be happy to be with Rafe. That the issues don’t matter.

Maybe he didn’t ever really validate you, but you were bad at doing it for yourself, too. You need to remind yourself that this break is important.

But is it so bad to check up on him? Make sure he’s alright?

You pull out your phone and text him: You doing okay?

Your heart drops when the text immediately comes up as undelivered. He blocked you.

After every argument, if anyone blocked anyone, it always was you blocking him. He’d try to find other ways to contact you, sometimes even finding one of your friends on social media to ask to talk to you.

As you stand with your friends, you pretend to scroll through your phone, trying not to cry. One recurring theme in your relationship was that he always accused you of not really caring that much about him, at least not as much as he cared about you.

Your nasty habit of blocking him must be part of the reason why. Because this feeling of outright rejection, of someone clearly showing you they don’t want to hear whatever you want to say, stings.

You liked the power trip of when you blocked him because he always did whatever he could to talk to you again. And you realize just how fucked up that was.

You find an excuse to rush home, not wanting to even mention to your friends why you’re choked up. They’re already apprehensive about you and Rafe actually being able to have a healthy relationship.

You spend the rest of your night in your bed, crying because you and Rafe really did bring out the worst in each other. Because he might have decided he’s done with you and this idea of getting better for each other is not worth the effort.

Your pillow is wet with your tears by the time you finally fall asleep.

You try to spend the next day reading and journalling and imagining a life without Rafe. After the break-up, you were miserable, but you knew separating was what was best.

Now, after the promise you made each other to try to get better, it hurts so much more. You were hopeful. And he shattered that.

You’re desperate to feel the way you used to. When things were good. Your love could be bitter, but when it was sweet, it was incredible.

You once sat on the beach together well past midnight for hours, talking and laughing and cuddling as the waves crashed in front of you.

Now, every conversation turns into a fight. Why does this have to be so hard?

It’s a Thursday night when Rafe thinks about driving up to your spot. It’s a secluded, narrow trailhead that cars can’t get through.

You’d wrap your arms around him so tightly whenever he drove his motorcycle up the pathway. Once he reached the peak, which offers a vista of the island, boasting the beaches as well as the town, you’d sit on a blanket on the ground over the cliffside.

It was almost always quiet up there, a nice break from how loud things always feel for him. You two thought you were the only ones in the world who knew about the place, but other people have left pieces of their own memories there, empty beer bottles scattered around.

Thankfully, though, you’ve never run into anyone else up there.

He remembers one night, sitting next to you, thinking that he genuinely preferred you over everyone, even preferred you over being alone.

He realizes you never fought up there. Not once.

Rafe counts. It’s been eighteen days since your conversation at the marina. You said to take a few weeks. Almost three should be enough. He hopes.

He unblocks your number and texts you: Down to go to our spot? I can pick you up.

The anxiety as he waits for your response is almost paralyzing. Then, you reply: ok.

Holding Rafe again while on the back of his bike, smelling him, feeling his warmth, makes your chest tighten with the threat of tears.

You didn’t say much when you hopped on. You don’t say anything when you make it to the hill’s peak. You watch him grab the blanket he always carries in his bike’s rear trunk, bunched up in his big hands.

It’s all a fluid motion, working together how you always did before, flattening the blanket over the patches of dirt and grass and sand.

Rafe always got freaked out when you got too close to the edge, so you sit closer to the blanket’s far corner for his comfort.

He sits a foot away from you, his legs bent, arms resting on his knees. You haven’t looked at each other for longer than a second.

The sun is setting soon. The air is thick between you. It’s like you’re both afraid of breaking the silence.

You lick your lips, gazing out at the orange horizon of where sky meets sea. You see him look at you from your peripheral vision. You turn to meet his gaze.

You finally say what’s been turning over in your head for the past few days.

“Are we done?” you say weakly.

Rafe mournfully breathes your name, sounding defeated when he says, “You tell me.”

Normally, and probably aggressively, you’d ask him why he’s being difficult. But after so much time reflecting, you know he’s not trying to be. He actually thinks it’s on you.

Every time he muttered that you wouldn’t find someone who cared like he does. Every time he hounded you after you told him to stop talking to you. Every time he insinuated that you’re either considering cheating or have already cheated. It was his own poisonous way of trying to keep you.

Because now, you can see just how painfully insecure Rafe is. And it’s not on you to fix that. But it explains a lot.

And now, when he tells you that you’re the one who decides the fate of your relationship, you get why. He’s always been the one clinging onto you, but refusing to be vulnerable about it.

You hope he can be vulnerable now. And you’re willing to go first.

“How come you blocked me?” you say softly.

“You tried to text me?” He straightens. He looks genuinely surprised that you reached out first.

You get why. You never reached out first before.

“Yeah,” you say. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“It’s stupid,” he begins. “I wanted to text you but you said we can’t talk, so I blocked you and sent texts that couldn’t actually get to you.“

Your lips quirk in a sad smile. You did the same thing in your own way, writing down everything you wished you could say to him in your journal.

It was an exercise you read about online; saying what you want to say to your ex without committing to them actually hearing it. You wonder if he read that article, too.

“It’s not stupid,” you say. “Can I see them?”

“Some of them are…” Rafe looks away. “I was really pissed off when I wrote some of them.”

“That’s okay,” you say. “Mine aren’t all nice, either.”

His forehead crinkles, clearly taken aback again by the fact that you wrote him messages, too.

“I wrote what I wanted to say to you in a notebook,” you explain. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.”

“I can,” he offers. “Just don’t get mad at me.”

You can’t promise that, so you stay quiet when he pulls out his phone. He hands it to you and you tap in his passcode, still the same numbers, and open his texts.

You see a glimpse of a message from his friends’ group chat. Someone simply texted: sure. And even though it’s mundane, it’s still so weird not knowing about Rafe’s day and his life and his plans.

You open your conversation. There’s a string of undelivered texts. You scroll to the top and take a deep breath.

Friday, 5:46 pm

It sucks not talking to you.

Saturday, 3:01 am

You think youre so mmuch better than me and it oisses me the fuck k off

You can tell he was drunk writing that one.

Sunday, 12:11 pm

I would take back a lot of the shit I did if I could

“What would you take back?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” Rafe says tensely. “A lot.”

Despite everything, you watch him through disappointed eyes. He would do this all the time as your boyfriend, act like an emotional conversation was corny and embarrassing.

He notices how sad you look. So, he pushes through for you.

“Like… I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says.

“I yelled at you, too,” you say, offering him anything you can during this moment of vulnerability.

“I scared you sometimes.” His eyes flit away. “You tried to act like you weren’t fazed, but I know I scared you. I’m sorry.”

The apology almost throws you off.

“Yeah,” you say after a beat. There’s no point in being dishonest.

You continue reading.

Sunday, 9:20 pm

I always fought to make this work and you never did. I always fucking cared more

Monday, 4:44 pm

I think about you every second. I’m going crazy

Tuesday, 9:57 am

I miss your laugh

Tuesday, 3:01 pm

I wonder if you noticed

You meet his eyes, immediately seeing the pink tinge on his cheeks, even though the sky is dark orange now that the sun is now seconds away from setting. He’s embarrassed, likely from how raw and exposed he must feel.

“If I noticed what?” you ask.

“That I wasn’t at that party last weekend,” he admits. He knew you were there because he asked his friends.

“I noticed,” you say. “That’s when I texted you. Where were you?”

“Home,” he says curtly as he reaches for his phone.

“I’m not done,” you say, looking back down at the screen. His body tightens in minor irritation. This just feels like humiliation now, especially if you’re not planning to stay with him.

Tuesday, 11:30 pm

Obviously I love you and it’s so annoying every time you say I don’t say it enough

Your brows pinch in sadness. Now that so much time has passed, you feel bad for every time you guilt-tripped him about not saying it back.

Yesterday, 1:20 pm

To be honest I would choose being sick together over being healthy alone because at least I’d have you

The next message is the last one.

Today, 10:22 am

I just wish I was good enough

You realize your eyes have started to burn with tears. Rafe’s not simply insecure. Now, you’re almost sure he feels a sense of inferiority.

It tracks. He likes to pretend he thinks he’s better than everyone, bragging all the time. But the more you think about it, the more it seems forced in retrospect.

He acts like he’s above people because deep down, he feels like he’s below them.

“You’re more than good enough,” you tell him. You give him back his phone. “I promise.”

Rafe nods, looking away, clearly tense and awkward.

You spent your whole relationship fighting each other for the upper hand, but now you’re trying to figure out how to give it to him so he’s not embarrassed.

“The last thing I wrote down was that I hope we find our way back,” you confess.

Blue eyes land on yours. His expression has softened.

“What else?” His voice is rough, almost strained.

“You want to know everything?”

“Yeah.”

You look out at the view again, crickets chirping, thinking about all that you’ve wanted to tell him. The breeze is gentle and the remaining sliver of the sun nestles into the horizon.

“I used to feel good about myself around you, and then at some point, I just… I really didn’t like who I was, Rafe.”

It makes everything in him hurt. But then, you continue.

“I blamed you and I shouldn’t have,” you continue. “We both fought unfairly, but you didn’t bring anything out of me that wasn’t already there. I’m sorry that I made it your fault when I was mean.”

He blinks, nodding, staring at your profile as you continue to speak.

“I didn’t like how controlling and jealous you could get,” you admit. “You didn’t trust me and it hurt. I never actually did anything to make you question my loyalty, did I?”

Rafe chews on his lip. Tears prick at his eyes.

“No,” he says.

“And we had a bad habit of, like… of trying to prove each other’s feelings wrong,” you say. “But if we hurt each other, we need to just accept it instead of arguing about it, you know?”

“I know.”

“We did bring out the worst in each other,” you say. “And I hope we can bring out the best. Because we were best friends before, remember? And then we just started trying to hurt each other. And I don’t want that for us.”

You feel the shift in the air between you immediately.

You meet Rafe’s gaze again in the dark summer air. Even though every other time he said this, it took effort, this time, he has to try not to say it. But why would he not say it?

“I love you,” he says.

Your lips part as you take in a short inhale of disbelief. It kills him to see how shocked you look to hear it.

But some things can never change and that includes how he prefers to show his love. He was always more action-oriented. So, he moves closer and gently cradles your jaw, his thumb rubbing over your cheek.

“Please let me kiss you,” he mumbles.

You leaning forward is your invitation and when his lips press on yours, your body feels weightless. You can’t remember the last time you touched this tenderly.

It’s the polar opposite of when you had what you thought was break-up sex. Your contact isn’t rough and angry at all. It’s soft like it’s the first time.

Rafe pulls back, his forehead against yours when a tear finally drops off his chin.

“I love you, too,” you whisper. His features crease in relief. You can tell he wasn’t expecting you to say it back.

“And you don’t have to say it to me all the time,” you say. “You’ve proven it. You’ve really been trying to get better for me. I can tell.”

He kisses you again, more impatiently this time. He missed this, missed you so much that it’s like he was lost without any hope of getting back home but now, he can breathe. Really breathe.

When he feels your tongue against his, his entire body reacts, getting hot and tight and hungry. He can sense that you feel the same when a whimper escapes you.

Rafe shifts and plants his hot mouth on your neck, still embracing your cheek as you tilt your head to give him full access.

The air around you is cool and dark now and you wonder if he wants to go all the way like you do. You’d hear someone coming up the trail and would definitely see headlights, so you’re not afraid of being caught.

You’re not afraid of anything. Not when he holds you like this.

You run a hand over the back of his neck, gently scratching the way you know he likes. He can’t take it anymore.

Rafe guides you onto your back, hovering over you, blanketing you with his weight.

“Should I stop?” he asks, breaths shallow.

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t stop.”

A rush rips through you when you feel his hard excitement against you.

He wants you completely bare, but he can’t risk being caught out here, so he shifts to take off only what he needs to.

When he sinks into you, you’re both breathless and kissing through his thrusts. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tilting your hips so he can fill you completely, be inside you as deep as possible.

“I’ll do anything,” he whispers against your mouth. “Just don’t leave again. Please.”

“I won’t,” you promise. “You’re everything I want, okay? You were always everything I wanted.”

Hearing that repairs the remaining cracks in his heart. He kisses you hard and for the first time in his life, he cries from happiness.

It’s slow and loving and the most gentle you’ve ever been with each other. Afterwards, he helps you get dressed again, kissing your skin wherever he can.

With your hearts still racing, you sit facing the view, his body curved behind yours as you lean with your back against his chest.

His fingers run over yours, stroking and rubbing and pinching, kissing your cheek again and again out of pure adoration under the moonlight.

“We won’t be perfect,” you tell him. “We’ll mess up. But I want to make sure you know I won’t give up.”

“Neither will I, baby,” he says. “I never did.”

Even though his methods weren’t always the healthiest, it’s true. He’s what kept you together, time and time again, as if he knew deep down that you two could be good together if you just tried.

You’ve never felt so solid with him before. You bring the back of his hand up to your mouth, kissing him.

It’s such a soft, loving gesture that Rafe has to tell himself not to cry again. It wasn’t a heat of the moment thing; he meant it when he said he’d do anything for you.

You own him. Completely. And he’s lucky that you want him back.

“I feel so lucky to have you,” you say.

“I was just thinking that,” he says with a chuckle.

You laugh and kiss the back of his hand again.

And you spend the next couple of hours talking and joking together just like that night on the beach months ago, except this time, you’re better people determined to get even better.

(the end) (alternate sad ending)

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azzibueckers5 · 6 days ago

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i wanna know peace again (wanna sing a different song) (ao3 link) (chapter 1 link)

chapter 2: in which azzi is a drama queen and mentally calls herself the word stupid so many times that it loses its meaning (wc: ~8.5k) (gasp)

AN: ummmm hiiiiii i'm back. please enjoy! i wanted to make it angstier but i didn't want to actually write that? so here you go. umm. any and all mistakes re: basketball and the wnba (and anything else) are mine and mine only! i'm learning slowly and I googled a lot of things but who knows. i think that's it? idk have fun freaks <3

azzi wakes to a pounding headache, a crick in her neck from sleeping on the couch, and an overwhelming sense of dread at everything in the world ever.

hanxiety doesn’t even begin to capture the feeling that curdles in her stomach when she goes to confirm that last night wasn’t a hyper-realistic dream, the words outgoing call, 1:47 reflecting back at her bleary eyes underneath paige’s contact. she’d called her at two in the fucking morning. good god.

she’s not sure if the wine or the hours of crying is the cause of the absolute knife between her temples, but it doesn’t matter because she needs three advils, like, now, before she begins processing the nightmare that the previous night really was.

she drags herself off the couch, wincing at the ache in her muscles, and heads to her bedroom to change out of last night's pjs and try and dig up the pain killers that she knows are somewhere in her bedside table.

briefly, humorously, she contemplates the tub of miscellaneous, much stronger drugs that she’s accumulated over her years of surgeries and injuries. maybe if she overdoses on the opioids she’d been given but never taken after her acl tear she won’t have to deal with this whole L-word realization that is sure to ruin the current stability of her life.

as she mentally picks through the haze of wine over her memories from the night before, the pit in her stomach grows. she had been a lot of things the prior night- stupid, emotional, drunk, but wrong about the truth of her complex web of emotion surrounding paige?

she wasn’t so sure. (she was actually kind of sure she hadn’t been wrong. which. fuck.)

after swallowing her pills (advil, not the oxycodone), she picks up her phone and fires off three texts to aaliyah in quick succession, needing her to know how much her line of questioning had caused azzi to spiral.

azzi: u suck btw.

azzi: the all-star break isn't the time to make me over analyze my friendships

azzi: or my sexuality for that matter

the older girl responds in a matter of seconds.

lili: BRUH I THOUGHT U KNEW

lili: come shoot before practice w me and we can talk it out

lili: but jsyk uve been moping for A YEAR my bad for thinking it was cause yall broke up

azzi: brooooo everyone always says friendship breakups r worse anyways

she releases a long suffering sigh to the mirror above her dresser. she looks a little bit like shit, eyes puffy and cheek creased, posture slumped over looking at her phone. the picture of i don’t want to have this crisis right now but i fear it’s too late.

screw everything. she looks back down at the buzz of her phone in her palm:

aaliyah: that’s only for straight girls dumbass

azzi: ok well i thought i WAS a straight girl

lili: [screenshotted image of her profile photo for azzi: her, sitting on the ground in the uconn facilities, propped up against the base of her locker, legs spread comfortably. her head is tilted up at the camera, a smirk lopsided on her face, and one hand is throwing up a four, the other splayed out across the top of her trucker hat. she’s wearing a huskies sports bra and sweatpants, slung low enough on her hips to exhibit the the thick band of her basketball shorts and the v of her lower abs]

lili: does this look like a straight girl to u

it's almost funny how obvious the answer is. azzi types out a succinct kill youself and throws her phone across her bed.

she feels like she should be concerned with how easily the knowledge that she’s into women (or at least one specific woman) settles into her skin. but somehow it feels more like something she’d known about herself and simply buried, waiting for the right time to fully process. and this doesn’t necessarily feel like the right time, but it's happening whether azzi likes it or not, and she supposes that accepting that you’re gay is a lot easier when every single person in your life already knew and thought you knew before you actually did.

the only person she really has to solidly come out to is herself (she ignores the voice in her head telling her that she will also maybe have to come out to paige at some point. if they talk and y’know. things go the way azzi is somehow already desperately hoping they will), and she’d always kind of known, in an abstract sense anyway, that she was attracted to women, but she’d never really had a crush on one or had the inclination to actually do anything about that thought so it had sat on the backburner, something she only really thought about when she was drunk, or lonely, or some combination of the two.

she figures she can work out whether she’s ever even been into men at all at a later date. all she can think about right now is paige anyways, and it's childish, but she’s almost annoyed at how cliche she feels for having her gay realization be the blonde, like she’s just another fangirl in paige’s tik tok comment section writing some variation of ‘i'm straight, but its paige bueckers!’

and it’s stupid, but it feels like she’s feeding into paige's ego by just acknowledging this space that’s been carved out in her chest. paige had always been droning on and on about how much rizz she had, how everybody wanted her, and azzi had loved nothing more than humbling her, calling her conceited and egotistical and stupid, and well. it seems azzi had been the stupid one all along.

she knows, though, that this feeling, this thing in her chest that has somehow ballooned inside of her overnight, runs much, much deeper than the silly, surface level attraction that most people attributed to paige. and she also reasons that she knows paige, both her flaws and her insecurities and the parts that make her so wonderful, in a way that none of the teenage girls on tiktok could ever begin to even dream of.

being in love with paige (and she guesses she’s really acknowledging it now, so that's. cool.) didn’t feel like a fluke, but rather something that was simply innate inside of her, ever humming under her skin.

she curses the universe for giving her this mid-life crisis eight days before she has to hop on the flight that will take her directly to paige’s city, but there's an underlying feeling of hope, too, that she tries to squash. she firmly ignores the thought that it feels a little bit like a cosmic sign.

paige having a woman she was almost certainly sleeping with, minimum, in the background of her phone at 1am also kinda felt like a cosmic sign. a sign that meant it's too late.

and. oh god. she needs to text paige about dallas.

and what the fuck to you say to your ex best friend who you hypothetically were (are?) in love with and drunkenly called crying after a year of not speaking one-on-one to try and plan a hangout? your ex best homoerotic friend who maybe has a new girl?

but paige had insinuated that she wasn’t expecting azzi to actually reach out, which, aside from the fact that azzi did want to, also made it somewhat of a competition, and azzi didn’t lose competitions. especially against paige.

it's already nearing 10 am, and even though paige is an hour behind, she wants to make it clear that she’s true to her word. paige had seemed like she’d wanted her to text, too, and. she’d said she missed her. a lot.

she types out the first thing she thinks of, u gonna show me your cowboy boots collection or what, and sends it before she can talk herself out of it.

the anger at paige from the night before is still simmering in her blood, a little bit, because what the fuck? they haven't talked in a year and it was paige’s fault. but also. azzi knows paige, even after all this time, and. she has a growing hunch that instead of the callous disregard for azzi and their friendship that paige had tried so hard to portray, azzi is starting to think that it had been hurt, not indifference, that had caused paige to distance them.

when paige doesn’t immediately respond to azzi’s text and profess her undying love for azzi and azzi only, she tries to convince her immune system that she did not, in fact, just drink poison and she was not, in fact, having a heart attack.

and god, was it normal to feel like she was dying after sending a text? yesterday-azzi was lucky as fuck that she thought she hadn’t been in love because this fucking sucked.

she makes breakfast with her anxiety at an all time high, checking her phone every sixty seconds and nearly burning her omelette. as the minutes tick by, azzi tries to resign herself to the reality that maybe paige had told her to text because she didn’t believe azzi would, not in spite of it.

but then, as azzi is throwing things in her bag to leave for the facilities and bombard aaliyah with questions and a borderline mental breakdown, she feels her phone buzz in her pocket. she drops her water bottle on her foot in her haste to check what it says, and it hurts like a bitch, but paige responds with ‘unfortunately only one pair of boots. but im sure my hat collection will impress u’ and well.

azzi’s foot could be broken for all she cares, because paige responded and she’s texting like old paige, and maybe it's flirting, maybe it's not, azzi clearly has no idea, but it's a million times better than the one-word messages she received throughout last year, and.

hope blooms, slow and steady, in azzi’s heart, despite her attempts to squash it.

…

azzi: please tell me you don’t actually wear any of them outside the house

paige: u have to wear one here at all times or they’ll kill u

paige: texas is no joke

azzi: so i guess i’ll need to borrow one when im down there then

paige: when do u fly in

paige: ill give u the pick of the litter

…

(azzi does not shriek when she sees that text after practice. she does not.)

…

three days before azzi flies to dallas (and potentially lights herself on fire), she has a moment of weakness. after a particularly tiring lift and a day without more than a few new texts from paige, she settles into bed freshly showered with her laptop propped open on a pillow. she means to put on the rest of the abbot elementary episode she’d been watching earlier, but her fingers apparently aren’t connected to the rest of her body because they type in “paige bueckers and azzi fudd” into the youtube search bar instead.

a couple nonsense videos pop up before her eyes catch on to the SLAM interview they’d done together right before azzi’s freshman year season. she clicks the link before she can chicken out.

it's a behind the scenes, with interview anecdotes thrown in between clips of them messing around, and they look so young. and jesus the way paige is looking at her. like she hangs the moon in the sky. and eighteen year old azzi isn’t much better, and she can’t keep her eyes off the blonde for more than five milliseconds, and they’re, well, they’re flirting right in front of current azzi’s face, and good god. no wonder everyone had thought something was going on.

if azzi hadn’t lived through it, known the way they’d only ever tiptoed the line, never crossing, she would’ve thought so too.

she makes it six minutes into the video before she slams her laptop shut, rolls over, and screams bloody murder into her pillowcase.

…

the mystics don’t fly down until the night before, and their game is in the afternoon, so she and paige make tentative plans to hang out after azzi ‘find[s] out what happens when you mess with texas.’

paige is a dork, and an unfunny one at that. she hearts the message when azzi tells her as much, and azzi has to hide her smile in the hood of her sweatshirt so georgia doesn’t ask any pestering questions when paige adds ‘unfunny maybe but a loser? never.’

azzi really, really hopes that this text-flirting or whatever they’re doing means that paige doesn’t have a girlfriend. she doesn’t think her heart could take it if she did, and she doesn’t understand how paige (maybe? she’s being optimistic. sue her.) lived with these feelings for so long and didn’t act on them because it's been a singular week of occasional texting and only that has azzi feeling like she’s going to tear her hair out.

the flight to dallas and subsequent restless night of sleep in a mediocre hotel room crawls by so slowly that azzi feels like she’s been physically transported to a planet in which every minute that goes by is actually an hour. or something. she doesn’t remember the plot of interstellar but she feels like messy time travel and space stuff like that was part of it. maybe it's happening to her. stranger things have occurred.

(like not knowing you were in love with your best friend for eight years)

(she doesn’t remember the plot of interstellar because the uconn team had watched it one slow off-season afternoon, and azzi had let paige coax her into taking an edible, gotten ridiculously high and scared, and had spent the entire movie with her face tucked into paige’s shoulder, letting the hands rubbing her back and stupid commentary in her ear lull her into safety)

(fuck everything)

…

and then the most dreaded and anticipated day of azzi’s short, miserable life so far is upon her. thank god it’s a saturday game, so tipoff is at 2:00, and she doesn’t have to drown in anxiety for a whole day beforehand, because breakfast and the pregame meeting in the hotel is tortuous enough as is.

kiki has to forcefully put her hand on azzi’s leg on the bus to get it to stop jumping up and down, and everyone knows not to bring up anything related to paige in front azzi, and she hasn’t said anything to anyone other the aaliyah about how they’re speaking again, but she can feel the sideways glances her teammates are sharing behind her back and her brain itches.

they warm up on the court after the wings are done with their shooting drills, meaning azzi only gets a glance of paige disappearing back into the tunnel when they head out to stretch, but it's enough to transform her anxiety from a level 6 on the richter scale to a solid, nauseating 8.

there’s signs of paige everywhere: posters with her face all over the walls, her number plastered on the sides of the hallway they have to walk down to get to the arena, and, worst of all, fans milling about, decked out completely in #5 jerseys and paige paraphernalia. several have carefully drawn out posters and clever slogans, clamoring in the stands to get as close as possible in an attempt to gain the one and only paige bueckers’ attention. and azzi can’t even fucking blame them, as pitiful as it is, because she wants paige’s attention on her, too. probably more than any of these fans combined.

a twisted, irrational seed of jealousy takes root in her heart when she thinks about how these fans have gotten to see paige grow and blossom over the last year and a half, how paige had left connecticut and the team and azzi and come here and immediately charmed the hearts of this entire stupid city, not caring what, or rather, who she left behind.

and fuck texas and their stupid cowboy boots and hot weather and their ability to win over really pretty blonde girls and entrap them in their clutches.

her shots are off during warmups, and it takes everything in her not to turn around and look for a familiar blonde head when they announce the starting lineup and paige’s name is called, but then that effort is entirely futile because paige’s face is suddenly plastered on every single god-forsaken screen in the entire arena as she runs back out through tunnel. and she looks so cool and confident and definitely not like she’s having a tweak-fest about her ex best friend being in such close proximity. and life isn’t fair.

and azzi loses her breath for a second at how stunningly beautiful paige is. she’s always been gorgeous, even self-proclaimed-straight-azzi had known that, but something about paige in the center of the basketball court, completely in her element, has always made her look more magnetic than usual.

paige’s eyes flit across the visiting team’s bench for a second, like she’s looking for someone, looking for azzi, and she wants to jump up and wave her arms or do something equally as ridiculous to get her attention, but it turns out she doesn’t need to because then blue eyes find azzi’s without any help, like a magnet, and, wow, azzi had thought that she’d mentally prepared herself for this as much as possible, but she’d been horribly, terribly wrong.

paige seems almost bashful when her face tilts into a lopsided grin, and azzi’s heart is doing this weird little flipping thing inside of her chest, which, it's never done that before, or maybe it had and she’d just never noticed because she’s an idiot, but regardless, azzi grins back, eyes probably all squinty and everything, and she really hopes no one is paying attention to them right now because she knows she looks absolutely sick in the head.

she feels bolder than usual all of a sudden, adrenaline coursing through her and the high of having paige’s attention on her after all these months must be messing with her brain to mouth filter, because then she’s mouthing “you ready to lose?” to the blonde girl across the arena.

paige’s smile drops in exaggerated offense and she’s getting nudged by her teammates to pay attention to something else but she smirks lazily, and flips azzi off before her attention is dragged into their huddle.

and azzi feels woozy- like a fucking cartoon character with little birds circling her head. lord give her strength. paige flips her off and suddenly she’s acting like the blonde girl came over and proposed or something. this whole thing is so. stupid.

the anthem and pre-game huddle is a blur of nerves and trying not to get caught staring at the back of paige’s head. and then it’s tip off, and blessedly, graciously, they’re not guarding each other, and azzi tries valiantly to focus on the ball and her teammates’ positioning and not on the blonde in her peripheral vision.

she’s off balance though, only making one of her first four shots, and she knows exactly why that is and it's so frustrating because paige already has seven points and seems entirely unaffected.

and then, six minutes into the game, paige knocks the ball away from kiki in a breakaway, and azzi is the only one who has a chance at stopping her from a simple, uncontested layup. they run up the court together, paige just out of azzi’s reach until they get to the paint. and azzi knows exactly the move paige is going to pull, could draw it up in her sleep, and the only real way to stop it is to throw her hip out and jump up at the exact second she knows paige will release the ball and pray that her hand makes contact with rubber and not skin.

and she does knock the ball away, fuck you, paige blockers, but her hip also makes contact with paige’s side and she goes sprawling, sliding across the linoleum. azzi has a split second of panic that she’s actually hurt paige, but paige is grinning up at her, the drama queen, and azzi groans when she hears the familiar whistle of a foul call somewhere behind her.

azzi’s hand grips paige’s to pull her up, other hand going out to steady her hip, and the first real skin on skin contact in a year shocks her to her core. her fingers are tingling, and how on earth was she able to ignore the feeling that arises in her whenever paige is close to her for so long because it feels like the world has stopped spinning on its axis for a second.

nothing had ever been able to pry azzi’s attention away from basketball before, except for paige, (which. add that to the list of things that probably should have clued her in years ago) and it’s even worse now that azzi understands why that was the case.

and they are in the middle of a basketball court on live television with thousands of people watching their every move and azzi is still gripping paige’s hand. and someone needs to put her in a psychiatric hospital or something.

she regrettably pulls her fingers away from the taller girl’s grasp and immediately misses the contact.

“you playin’ dirty cause you don’t think you can win?” paige taunts, but she’s grinning at azzi like she knows it was an accident, and her face is flushed from the first few minutes of running and she looks positively edible and. how azzi thought of herself as immune to paige’s charm for so long is well beyond her now because she wants to do. a lot of things, actually, but she needs to focus on basketball right now. because again. middle of the basketball court.

“shut up, cheater. you’re the one flopping around trying to get a call,” is her very mature and reasonable retort.

and oh. azzi realizes again, in real time, what everyone was talking about when they used to say that her and paige were constantly flirting. because her hand is still on the taller girl's hip (just to steady her. yeah right.) and paige is smirking down at her and azzi is teasing her and- oh my god she’s been so stupid.

the familiar spark of competition (and probably some other things. like attraction. whatever.) lights up between them like no time has passed since they were staying late after practices and running shooting drills just the two of them, and azzi feels herself settle for the first time since she caught sight of paige warming up.

she’d been worried that she’d be too distracted by paige’s presence to play well, but the feeling of blue eyes on the back of her neck whenever she has the ball, and even when she doesn’t, fuels her like nothing else.

by halftime, she has 19 points.

and when the mystics finally edge out an unexpected, much needed win, there’s a 34 next to azzi’s name in the box score. she only misses two shots after her exchange with paige in the first quarter.

and it's merely an out of conference win, but it's a close one because paige had played well too, and she can feel the satisfaction of a well-fought game settling in her bones, and the added bonus of beating paige, specifically, is making her feel like she's on cloud nine.

they keep their post game hug short and cordial (or. as cordial as a paige burying her face in azzi’s neck and azzi gripping her shoulders as tight as possible can be) (azzi might be delusional but she swears the crowd gets louder when they hug)

she kind of never wants it to end, and misses her instantly when paige pulls away, but then paige stays close when they separate, and looks nothing but proud when she congratulates azzi, asking “you tryna outdo my rookie of the year performance?”

azzi is grateful for the flush on her cheeks from the game, so it masks how hot her blood gets at the question. “maybe, we’ll see,” is the only thing she can come up with in response, and it sounds coy even to her own ears.

“i know we will” is paige’s fond response, and there’s cameras surrounding them and azzi’s not stupid enough to bring up their post-game plans right now but she wants to so she just hums and stands there, probably looking like a fucking adoring idiot.

paige smiles, big this time, despite their loss, and tugs azzi back into a much briefer hug. it’s friendly for the cameras, and quick, but paige manages to tuck an “i'll text you” into azzi's shoulder before she’s pulling away and leaving azzi to watch helplessly after her as she’s immediately swarmed by teammates and media.

and winning the game was fun and great and awesome or whatever, but the mile-wide smile on azzi’s face has a lot more to do with residual tingling of paige’s hugs than anything else. she is so stupendously screwed.

…

the press conference goes by torturously slow because azzi doesn’t have time to check her phone beforehand, but they only ask her one question about paige so she counts it as another win.

(they ask azzi if this victory is sweeter because paige is on the other team and azzi answers with a really eloquent “yes,” and doesn’t elaborate when asked. her teammates nearly wet themselves with laughter)

azzi almost falls out of her chair in her attempt to get up as fast as possible when they’re released from press, and it takes everything in her not to sprint back to the locker room to check her phone. aaliyah doesn’t even try to hide her laughter.

three texts from paige from 10 minutes prior are waiting for her when she finally gets back to her locker.

paige: about to hop in shower

paige: wanna j do something straight from here

paige: or we can do something later if u wanna go back to hotel first idc

the three separate texts means that paige is nervous, and some satisfaction settles in azzi’s stomach, but it’s overshadowed by the fact that she’s left the decision making to azzi.

she debates it for two seconds before deciding she might run into oncoming traffic or something equally as gruesome if left to her own thoughts for more than 5 minutes. she hearts the second text.

azzi: if u wait for me to shower i can be ready in 20

and then she’s only 20 minutes away from being one-on-one with paige for the first time in a year. her shower goes by in a haze and she hopes she remembered to like. use body wash but she can’t really recall because her mind is an abyss of nausea and stress and the little glimmer of hope that she keeps trying to make shut up.

paige’s ‘kk call me when ur ready and ill tell u where to go’ is waiting for her when she gets out, and she curses herself for only packing a pair of old sweats and a tank top. whatever. it’s not like she needs to impress paige anyway- she’d seen her in every state of dress from black tie evening gowns to pajamas- but still. she’s stressed.

and then she’s slipping out of the locker room (she’s not doing anything wrong, but she still feels a little bit like she’s sneaking around, trying to avoid questions on where she’s going from her teammates), and calling paige, and letting her voice guide through a hallway and out a couple doors and into the parking lot.

she hangs up when she sees paige’s recognizable grey jeep ahead of her, and something settles in her stomach at the familiar sight. she’d been in the passenger seat of this car a million and one times.

but then she’s opening the door and, wow, she feels the furthest thing from settled because there is paige, sitting in the driver's seat and looking clean and nervous and adorably small in an oversized hoodie and shorts. her hair is down and still damp, and she’s wearing glasses, and her hands are fidgeting with her phone in her lap, partially covered by the cuffs of her sweatshirt, and azzi feels something crack in her chest. because how had she not realized that this was exactly what she’d wanted all along?

“hi” paige greets her, voice small and a little shy.

azzi’s answering “hey, loser” sounds just as bashful and wow, what have they become?

but then azzi climbs into the passenger seat as paige groans and says “i knew that would be the first thing you’d bring up” and they fall into the ease of bickering about the game and the music paige is playing, and as they pull out of the garage and into the bright afternoon dallas sun, azzi relaxes a bit into her seat.

they decide to drop their stuff off at paige’s apartment before potentially heading out to find some dinner, and it’s weird- how normal it feels, even though they haven’t done this in forever. azzi still has an undercurrent of panic coursing through her, and she knows she’s looking at paige a little weirdly because the blonde keeps glancing at her funny, like she’s trying to figure something out and can’t quite place what’s changed, but despite that, they fall right back into the simplicity and comfort that each others company has always held.

until paige decides to ruin the ease of their conversation by glancing across the car at a red light and asking “you gonna tell me why you’re looking at me funny?”

azzi squirms. debates jumping out, ladybird style. decides against it only because the risk/reward ratio is particularly low. she could deny it, call paige crazy, but that seems useless when she plans on bringing it up when they get inside in 10 minutes anyways. she was planning on waiting until after dinner, but the thrill of having paige within arms reach is making her antsy and she knows she won’t be able to wait that long.

“no,” she replies. at paige’s sideways glare, she relents, “when we get inside.”

paige hums, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, and the relaxed environment turns tense in seconds. the remainder of the drive is silent, and it's not awkward, necessarily, but anticipatory, tension clogging azzi’s lungs.

she fiddles with the ac vents and tries to stop herself from thinking at all. she fails, obviously, and her mind is a mess of paige and random moments from their time at uconn and, the girl in the back of the phone call, and. somehow her hands are shaking. perfect.

she is somehow both thankful and miserable they’re almost there.

they finally pull into paige’s complex, and the mostly silent walk through the garage and elevator ride only further serves to heighten her anxiety. and then paige is pulling out her keys and opening the door and.

they barely get inside before azzi is rounding on her, dropping her bag on the floor and backing up to lean against the opposing wall. she’d planned this part out in her mind a hundred times, dissecting all the possible pros and cons of asking in different ways, figuring out how to slowly work up to the question that’s been eating her alive since the the all star break, but one look at paige’s confused face and the adrenaline that's been coursing through her veins throughout the whole car ride has her sidestepping logic and reason entirely and blurting out a strangled “were we in love?”

she’s pretty confident she knows the answer, but the ensuing silence is agonizing anyway.

azzi can see the second paige processes her question, her face dropping in utter disbelief, and something like heartbreak splinters in her eyes at azzi’s words. paige’s arms go limp at her sides, her keys slipping to the ground beside her, and the jangle of metal against the hardwood floor is deafening in the silence of her entryway.

“azzi,” paige chokes on her name, like it causes her physical pain. she looks shell-shocked, like she can’t breathe, and azzi can’t breathe either, but she needs to know anyway.

“were we in love, paige? were you in love with me?” she asks again, more desperate this time, the words ripping out of her chest almost without her permission. she feels out of control. between the two of them, paige was always the one to push things too far, press and press until azzi was forced to answer her questions or shut down, and the whip-lash of that role reversal is clear on the older girl’s face.

still, paige is silent, gaping at her in shock.

just as azzi opens her mouth to ask a third time, paige closes the gap between them with two steps and seals their mouths together in a desperate, searing kiss.

azzi’s hands fly to paige's chest immediately, and the blonde’s hands find their place on the sides of her face, cupping her cheeks. azzi opens for her in seconds, and paige makes a wretched, helpless sound in the back of her throat as their tongues meet. she drags one hand down to azzi’s waist and pulls her closer, fingering the gap between her sweats and tank top, and azzi’s hands grip her shirt in return, needing her as close as possible.

and wow. okay. if there was any lingering doubt in azzi’s mind about whether or not she was into women, into paige, it evaporates into thin air, heat pooling immediately in her stomach.

and also. paige probably doesn’t have a girlfriend if she’s kissing azzi senseless in her foyer. the relief of that makes her needy, desperate.

she feels wild with it, with the sudden release of this desire for paige that's been hibernating just under her skin for years, and as paige presses her back into the wall, all azzi can think to do is tug her as close as possible. her hands move again, this time sliding up to the back of paige’s neck, everywhere they can reach, and when they separate from each other for a second to breathe, foreheads pressed together, azzi’s eyes flutter open to probably the prettiest version of paige she’s ever seen.

she looks absolutely ruined, cheeks flushed and mouth swollen, and azzi feels drunk on the look in her eyes, gazing at her like azzi is the sun and the moon and the whole fucking solar system too. and she’s struck with the thought that they probably could have been doing this for years, probably should have been doing this for years.

“did you- azzi- did you not know?” is the first thing paige gets out, voice sounding wrecked with emotion and something else, and if azzi had a nickel for every time someone had seemed incredulous that she hadn’t known about paige and her being in love, she’d have five fucking nickels. five nickels to place on the shelf next to her #1 stupidest person on earth trophy.

azzi can’t help but sound indignant when she sputters out “well no one told me!”

paige just looks at her for a second, like she’s trying to cement this as real, and then she smiles, small and beautiful and just for azzi.

“you’re stupid” is her only retort. and, well. yeah.

and she looks like she’s about to cry but in a good way azzi thinks, and then azzi can’t see her face anymore because they’re kissing again. she makes a sound in the back of her throat that she will not be recounting when paige slips a hand underneath her tank top, pressing her fingers to her ribs, and jesus, they’ve been making out for maybe a total of two minutes max and she already feels like she’s going to melt into a puddle on the floor.

paige kisses her like she means it, like she’s starving for it, and azzi didn’t know it until right now but it's exactly the way she likes to be kissed.

paige wedges a leg between azzi’s, somehow pressing closer, and this is really nice and azzi really doesn’t want to stop but also. they need to actually discuss this before she lets paige do something stupid like finger her in the hallway or drag her off to her bedroom. she might be jumping the gun but also. one of paige’s hands is sliding underneath the waistband of her sweats to caress the smooth skin of her hip, teasing. and, and. she really needs to stop this before her fingers dip any lower because she knows any coherent thought she has will crumble into nothingness.

she tugs her mouth away for a second, and murmurs out a breathless “paige” in between kisses. she receives a contented grunt in response.

“paige-” she tries again, except the older girl simply hums and moves lower, pressing open-mouthed kissed down her neck instead. azzi’s brain goes blank for a second, nothing but thoughts of paige’s mouth on her neck and her hands on her waist. but.

they do need to talk about this. regretfully.

“paige, we need to- to talk about this,” she stutters out, and when paige still seems undeterred, having moved down to attempt to suck a mark into azzi’s collarbone, she adds, “before we have sex.”

she tries to look away, so she doesn’t have to see the smug grin that she knows will spread across paige’s face at her words, but a consequence of furiously making out with the blonde is that their faces are still inches apart, so she still sees the sly smirk on paige’s stupid, self-satisfied face.

“who said anything about sex, hmm?” she crows, and azzi blushes, and then looks down pointedly at paige’s hand that is currently slipping under the waistband of her sweats.

“oh i’m sorry, was that not on your agenda?” she asks, teasing, and pushes herself out from underneath paige, walking down the hallway towards the living room, smiling to herself at the immediate feeling of paige’s hands back on her hips, grasping at her to keep her close.

“no, no, azzi, c’mon, i’m jus’ playing, come back here,” and she actually sounds a little bit worried, as if azzi will somehow change her mind or something ridiculous.

she spins back to face paige when she gets to the couch, and laughs at the look on her face, hopeful and kind of like a puppy dog. it's definitely a diversion tactic and it almost works, she almost says fuck it and drags paige further into the apartment in search of the bedroom, but she stays strong.

“talk first, and then you can give me a very thorough tour of the rest of your apartment,” she assures, and paige relents, but not before pressing a short, close-mouthed kiss to azzi’s lips, as if sealing the deal.

“‘kay. i’m holding you to that,” she adds, but she looks unsure of herself, and then they’re just standing there like idiots in the evening light of paige’s apartment, looking at each other.

azzi decides she wants to be sitting for this, so she kicks off her slides and drops onto the couch behind her.

for a second, paige looks like she doesn’t know what to do or where to sit, and she’s never been unsure of invading azzi’s personal space before, so azzi just rolls her eyes and tugs her down onto the couch next to her. paige flops down, sprawled out next to azzi, and they settle into the cushions, azzi curled underneath paige’s arm, facing her, legs crossed and socked feet tucking under paige’s thigh.

paige is quiet, waiting for azzi to formulate how she wants to start this, and she’s grateful for the silence as she mentally grapples with how to open this particular can of worms.

she settles on “can you tell me what happened the night of the championship?”

might as well start out with the big guns.

paige inhales sharply, and she looks like she really doesn’t want to recount that night, so azzi gently takes one of her hands in her own and tangles their fingers.

“you don’t remember?” she mumbles, and her voice sounds so small, not at all like the confident paige that had just been giving azzi shit and kissing the living daylights out of her.

“no, only. only that we kissed, but even that’s hazy. and i had a mark,” she reaches up with paige's hand still tangled in hers and presses at her collarbone, “right here.”

“yeah.” paige’s voice breaks on the acknowledgement, and she looks like she’s gonna cry at the reminder, eyes watery where they gaze at the spot that her fingers are pressing into. azzi’s heart squeezes in her chest. she looks a little relieved, though, that azzi can’t recall what happened.

“if i’d known you were that drunk i wouldn’t have…” she trails off, voice shaky, and azzi cuts in.

“you were drunk too paige, s’not your fault.”

paige hums. when azzi squeezes her fingers, she continues. “it was such a good night until then. we were so drunk, and you were so happy, and you were clinging onto me like it-” her voice breaks, and azzi leans further into her side to try and comfort her. they’re both already crying a little bit, and her heart squeezes, again, but she needs to hear this before they go any further.

“like it meant something. something more than usual. and then you wanted to go upstairs and i kept thinking finally. and. and i kissed you when we got to my room and you seemed so into it. and then i said-” she cuts off again, and azzi feels dread pool in her gut. she isn’t sure she actually wants to hear this story but she can’t stop listening.

“i told you i was in love with you, like an idiot, and you-” she inhales, through her tears, like she’s steeling herself, and azzi squeezes her eyes shut in preparation, gripping paige’s hand tighter.

“you asked me why i had to ruin it, why we couldn’t just kiss without it meaning anything.”

azzi makes a wounded sound, curling closer, and paige is sobbing now, and this is so, so much worse than she’d thought.

“paige.” is the only thing she can get out as comfort, and now she's sobbing too. god she’d been so, so stupid. “i didn’t know.” she shifts, and then climbs all the way into paige’s lap, trying to ease the hurt that her unconscious drunk mind had caused and pressing a messy kiss to her hairline. she tries to get as close as possible as a reminder that they're here now, not in a shitty hotel room in tampa.

god. no wonder paige had distanced herself. azzi doesn’t even know what she’d have done. probably run straight out of that hotel and thrown herself off a cliff

paige isn’t done, though, and azzi briefly wonders how it could possibly get worse, before regretting her curiosity instantly.

“and then you got mad when i wouldn’t. wouldn’t just keep going. and i asked if we could jus’ talk about it in the morning and you promised that we would.” paige presses the words into azzi shoulder, bring her arms up to wrap around the younger girl’s back. her tank top is wet from paige’s tears and. this whole thing has azzi sick to her stomach.

she presses a sob into paige’s hair, and she knows the next part but she lets her finish anyway.

“and then you didn’t say anything the next morning and i didn’t know if you didn’t remember or if you just didn’t want to talk about it, but either way i just. couldn’t do it anymore.” her voice is shot, and she’s still crying, but she looks relieved to have finished.

azzi lets the silence sit for a minute before responding. “i thought you regretted kissing me. or whatever happened, i couldn’t remember. and then you just. stopped, like, wanting to be friends, and i thought you’d decided you didn’t need me anymore,” azzi releases through tears, and her heart breaks for both of them at the stupidity of the last year.

a “no!” rips from paige’s chest, insulted, and she laughs humorlessly. “az, i’ll always need you. for god sake, i pretty much just moped for the entire year plus. arike banned your name ‘cause she got tired of listening to me whine about how much i missed you.” she looks up at azzi through her eyelashes, tears clumped together, and she looks so beautiful, despite them, that azzi’s heart breaks all over again.

“if it makes you feel better, i missed you just as bad, except i wouldn’t talk to anyone about it. the whole team knew not to bring you up around me cause i would just shut down.”

she knocks their foreheads together, gently, in affection before continuing, “one of the freshmen got your old room and i wouldn’t go anywhere near it.”

paige smiles, brokenly, at that. “bet she didn’t decorate it as well as me.”

it's not really funny, but azzi lets out a watery giggle anyways, pressing it into the curve of paige’s brow. “she probably didn’t have a blanket over the blinds though.”

paige hums in agreement, and motions for azzi to continue before starting to trace lines on azzi’s back.

azzi takes a deep breath before speaking. “over the break we went to dinner, me ‘n lili and a couple others. and somehow like dating and stuff got brought up and she asked me if i’d ever been in love. and i said no.”

paige tenses under her, but azzi squeezes their hands that are still tangled together and waits until she relaxes again to continue.

“and none of them believed me. they all thought we’d been dating in secret or whatever. and i couldn’t believe it but then i started thinking about it and. and then i got home and called my mom, and asked her if i’d been in love with you,” she pauses for a second, trying to get her words straight. paige’s hand on her back falters for a second, before continuing, slow and steady, and it grounds her.

“and she said if i was asking her than i already knew.”

paige laughs a little bit, commenting “‘course she did.”

“i know,” she agrees, “and then. well. i got really drunk and somehow thought it was a good idea to call you.”

paige smiles, a little crookedly. “wasn’t your worst idea, though.”

azzi hums in agreement. “no, it wasn’t”

paige opens her mouth to say something and then stops, reconsidering.

azzi narrows her eyes. “what,” she prods, needing to know everything.

paige hesitates again before continuing. “i thought god was punishing me when i saw who was calling. i’d just made the first step in so long to try and get over you, finally relented to all my teammates telling me to get laid for the first time in over a year and. here you were calling me for the first time in forever like you knew i’d just spent half an hour pretending the girl on top of me was you.” she shakes her head, laughing a little. “i left as soon as i hung up. cried all the way home.”

and azzi knows it’s fucked up, but satisfaction settels in her bones at the knowledge that paige hadn’t been sleeping her way through texas in azzi’s absence like she’d thought, even if the reminder of the girl on the phone kills her a little.

“i wanted to die when i heard her voice. almost hung up you,” she gets out, and paige presses a kiss to her shoulder in response.

“baby, i haven’t wanted anyone but you since i was like, sixteen.”

the word baby echoes inside azzi’s head and she smiles, ducking her head.

“maybe if you’d ever told me that-”

“-i did tell you-” paige protests, but azzi’s having none of it.

“sober- if you’d told me sober i probably would’ve figured out i was in love you a lot quicker.”

paige huffs. “azzi, the entire world knew i was in love with you. obviously i thought you knew, too, ” and then, when azzi’s words sink in a bit more, and she adds, a little in awe, “you’re in love with me? like, forreal?”

azzi doesn’t bother correcting her verb tense. it might seem stupid to already be saying i love you when they haven’t actually had a conversation in a year, but she knows with more certainty than anything ever that this is a past and a present and a future kind of thing.

“obviously.” is her only response, gesturing to where she’s sitting on paige’s lap, their fingers still curled together.

and paige’s smile is positively blinding as she leans up to press their mouths together, murmuring “s’ fire.”

honestly. you’d think she’d be a little more romantic.

and their faces are both damp from tears, but it doesn’t matter because paige is kissing her like her laugh is the best thing she’s ever tasted, and maybe it is.

and paige flips them somehow (azzi isn’t really paying attention to the logistics, too focused on the patch of skin she finds below paige’s ear that makes her keen) and they end up pressed into the couch, paige laying on top of her.

azzi finds paige’s mouth again, fingers tangling in her hair, and paige presses their hips together, swallowing the brunettes' moan at the contact.

and then paige pulls back above her and grins.

“so can we have sex now,” she questions, and azzi rolls her eyes, shoving at her shoulder.

“way to be a romantic, p,” she responds, but it just sounds fond instead of annoyed.

“excuse you, i am such a romantic,” she retorts, and at azzi’s unimpressed look, she tries again. “azzi jazlyn, i am very much in love with you, can i please make sweet, sweet love to you?”

azzi groans, but it’s kind of a futile attempt to seem like she’s not utterly charmed, because she lets paige tug her up off the couch anyways.

and there are still residual tear tracks on their faces, and more conversations to be had, but as she chases paige down the hallway to her bedroom, laughter flowing freely from them both, she figures they can figure that out later. right now, this is enough.

AN: ummmm thank you for reading? pleaseeee comment/send me asks it literally makes my whole entire day and I need all the love I can get over the next week of hell (finals). i know i said i was writing smut and i ammmm it just is taking me. a while. so i cut it off here. but maybe keep your eye out for more of these two being freaky? idk. also if you wanna like see any more from them pls let me know what that would be! i have a couple ideas for a paige pov but it would be really angsty. and also a few about like their friends and fam finding out and being like THANK FUCK. took u long enough. idk. again, only time will tell but I can confirm that comments and asks do wonders for my creativity soooo. please do that! ok bye now <3

#iwkpa #pazzi #pazzi fics #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #paige x azzi #like again do i need more tags? idfk #please tell me how you like this im BEGGING #ok back to my homework

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coolgrl111 · 16 days ago

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JEALOUS!ART X READER.

PART 4.

a/n: hiiiii i’m sorry i’m literally evil.. it’s been a year daddy!!!! i’ve been wanting to write more in my fics, so we have another mix of smaus and writing!!! pls enjoy 💋💋

part 1

part 2

part 3

—

she opened the app with fingers trembling like moth wings. drew’s page. a carousel of screenshots. texts ripped out of context. photos from months ago with captions twisted into knives.

“cheating whore.”

“hope art was worth it.”

“funny how you act innocent when you’re on your knees for your best friend.”

her face burned. the room tilted. the silence screamed.

her first instinct wasn’t even heartbreak—it was shame. not because of what she’d done (nothing, nothing, nothing) but because of what people would now believe.

art stirred. turned. blinked at her with sleep-slowed eyes, the worry rising as he took in her expression.

“what is it?”

she couldn’t speak, just handed him the phone.

he read it once. then again. jaw tight, mouth a straight line that trembled only slightly.

“he doesn’t get to do this to you,” he said, voice low. “he doesn’t get to twist things.”

her throat burned. “but people will believe him.”

art sat up, ran a hand through his hair. looked at her like she was something fragile, yes—but not broken.

“then let them believe what they want,” he said. “i know the truth. you do too.”

her fingers went slack.

the phone slid from her hands and hit the carpet with a soft, traitorous thud.

she folded forward, slow then all at once, like paper creasing under rain—arms around her stomach, head pressed to her knees, trying to hold herself in. but the sob tore through her chest without warning, and then another, and then another.

it was ugly.

guttural.

art was beside her in less than a breath.

“hey—hey,” he said, panicked, the word breaking. “no, please—what—what can i do?”

his voice cracked on please.

she couldn’t look at him. couldn’t speak. the pain swelled inside her like a tide, rising fast, drowning her in shame and hurt and the fear that this—this version of herself, shattered and humiliated—would push him away forever. but art stayed.

he knelt on the bed beside her, his hair messy, his eyes puffy from sleep—a hand hovering before it landed on her back, trembling.

his palm moved in slow circles, but he was shaking too hard to make it steady.

“you don’t deserve this,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “you know you didn’t do anything wrong. you’re no cheat. we didn’t...” his words quietened. it was true. they hadn’t done anything intimate. was it bad if she wished they did?

she shook her head, hands covering her face, tears pouring through the cracks in her fingers.

“they’re gonna think it’s true,” she choked. “they’ll think i lied, that i—that we—”

“fuck them,” he said, too loud, too raw. then softer, “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

his other hand brushed her hair back. his eyes were red now, too.

“i hate seeing you like this,” he said, close to crying himself. “it’s like—god, it’s like someone’s reaching into my chest and ripping everything out. i just want to fix it. i’d do anything to fix it. i never fucking liked drew, you know that? never thought he was good enough.”

and then she remembered.

his text.

“i’m in love with you, y/n.”

last night, amidst her panic about the stanford gossip page posting about her and drew—he’d sent it. she hadn’t replied. couldn’t.

it was only six words.

just thinking about it again knocked the air out of her, just like drew’s horrible messages did—only this was a different panic. because maybe she reciprocated it.

she looked up at him, finally. saw the way his eyes searched hers, desperate. his bottom lip was trembling.

“why did you tell me you loved me last night?” she whispered.

he blinked, startled. “because i couldn’t hold it in anymore. because you were so sad. and you’re so beautiful… and i couldn’t stand the thought of you going home to someone who didn’t see you the way i do.”

her breath caught in her throat.

“and now this happens,” he went on, voice breaking again. “and it’s like—i confessed something real and instead of kissing you forever, making you mine— i’m watching you fall apart because of someone who didn’t deserve one second of your love.”

her eyes filled again. not from shame this time. not from fear.

“i hate drew, y/n. i absolutely despise that fucking prick.”

his words were firm, but from the way he looked at her, so soft, it was like she was all he’d ever waited for.

“i’m sorry i didn’t say anything,” she whispered. “i was scared.”

“i’m scared too,” he said. “but i’m not going anywhere.”

his thumbs were still on her cheeks, catching the tears as they fell, brushing her skin like he was memorising the shape of sorrow. and she was crying again—not from fear this time, but from the unbearable kindness in his voice, the way he held her like she was something sacred.

her hands moved slowly, unsure, reaching to hold his wrists. she looked at him—really looked—and saw him trembling just like she was. his eyes glossy, mouth parted like he was afraid of what might happen next.

and then, almost without thinking, she whispered, “then don’t go.”

and leaned in.

their foreheads touched first, like a prayer. a pause. a promise.

and then, finally their lips found each other.

it wasn’t perfect. it was messy and wet and trembling. he kissed her like he had waited forever but wasn’t sure he was allowed. she kissed him like she might break from it, and maybe she was.

they were both still crying. she could taste salt on his mouth, couldn’t tell whose it was. didn’t care.

his hands slid to cradle her jaw, holding her steady. her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt like she needed to anchor herself to something that wouldn’t hurt her. the kiss deepened slowly, like a secret unfolding between them, years in the making. it wasn’t lust. it wasn’t a firestorm. it was gentler, more devastating—it was real.

when they finally pulled apart, neither of them moved far. foreheads resting together. breathing the same air. they both sniffled from the tears.

art let out a soft, broken laugh. “i’ve wanted to do that since we were sixteen.”

she smiled shyly. “me too.”

taglist: @blastzachilles @mrszweig @grimsonandclover @areyoutheregoditsmecelia @hrrysglitter

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yrluvjane · 1 month ago

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Highway to Rivalry (II)

Rockstar!Remus Lupin x Rockstar!Reader

Summary: After your drunken dance with Remus Lupin at the club goes viral, the rivalry between your band and The Marauders takes a sharp turn—straight into chaos, tabloid scandals, and a tension between you and Remus that’s definitely not just hatred anymore.

Part 2 to Sound & Vision __ Part 3: Black Velvet

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, rivals to ???, drunk shenanigans, Remus being a smug bastard, media frenzy, unresolved sexual tension, ANGST with a side of fluff.

Your head was pounding.

You groaned, rolling over in bed and immediately regretting it when the sunlight stabbed through your eyelids like a knife.

What the hell did I drink last night?

Fragments of memory flickered—Marlene dragging you to the club, Dorcus hiding in a booth with a book, Mary flirting with some guy who looked like he owned a yacht. And then…

Oh no.

Oh god no.

You shot upright, ignoring the way your skull screamed in protest.

Remus Lupin.

You danced with Remus Lupin.

You sang along to The Marauders’ song with Remus Lupin.

He kissed your cheek.

Your phone buzzed violently on the nightstand. You snatched it up, squinting at the flood of notifications.

78 Missed Calls 243 New Messages 1,089 Notifications

Marlene (3:47 AM): GIRL. YOU’RE TRENDING.

Dorcus (4:12 AM): So. We have a problem.

Mary (4:30 AM): I TOLD YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM THE BAR.

You didn’t even have to open Twitter to know what was waiting for you.

#RockstarRivalryOver? #RemusAndY/N #DidTheyJustBecomeBesties

And then—the photo.

The damning photo.

There you were, pressed against Remus Lupin on the dance floor, his hands on your hips, your arms around his neck, his lips dangerously close to your ear as you both belted out the lyrics to his band’s song.

The caption read:

"Are The Marauders and The Sirens calling a truce? Or is this something… hotter?"

You threw your phone across the bed like it had burned you.

By the time you stumbled into the hotel suite’s living area, your bandmates were already gathered around the TV, watching your disaster unfold on Good Morning America.

"—unprecedented moment in music history," the host gushed. "Could this mean the end of the infamous feud between The Sirens and The Marauders?"

Marlene paused the screen and turned to you, grinning. "You dog."

You groaned, collapsing onto the couch. "I was drunk."

Mary tossed you a water bottle. "Drunk enough to grind on Remus Lupin?"

"I DID NOT GRIND—"

Dorcus held up her phone, showing a very incriminating screenshot. "The internet disagrees."

You buried your face in a pillow. "Kill me."

Marlene snatched the remote, unmuting the TV just in time for the next segment—

"And in a shocking twist, Sirius Black just tweeted this—"

The screen switched to a tweet:

@SiriusBlackOfficial: "Congrats to Moony for pulling the impossible. Too bad she’ll realize her mistake by morning. #SirensSuck"

You growled. "I hate them."

Mary smirked. "Could’ve fooled us."

Your phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: "So. You survive the night?"

You stared.

You: "Who the hell is this?"

Unknown Number: "The guy whose personal space you invaded."

Your stomach flipped.

Remus.

You: "How did you get my number?"

Remus: "Marlene gave it to me."

You whipped your head toward Marlene, who was conveniently avoiding eye contact.

You: "Traitor."

Remus: "She said you’d be ‘cute when flustered.’ She wasn’t wrong."

You: "I’m not flustered."

Remus: "Liar. You’re blushing."

You were. Damn him.

You: "This doesn’t change anything. You’re still a smug, arrogant, talentless—"

Remus: "You were singing my lyrics last night. My lyrics."

You: "I was DRUNK."

Remus: "Admit it. You like our music."

You: "I’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard."

Remus: "Funny. You didn’t seem to mind when my hands were on your—"

You threw your phone at Dorcus. "Make it stop."

Your manager called an emergency meeting that afternoon.

"This is gold," she said, shoving a tablet in your face. "You are trending in 12 countries. The Grammys are in two weeks—we need to lean into this."

You gaped. "Lean into it? You want me to pretend to like Remus Lupin?"

Marlene snorted. "Pretend?"

Your manager ignored her. "A few joint interviews. Some friendly banter. Maybe a duet—"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT—"

"Too late," your manager said, grinning. "Jonathon already booked you both."

The band plays your hit single as you stride onto stage, giving the audience a casual wave before taking your seat. The cheers are deafening - until the music abruptly switches to The Marauders' most popular song. Remus saunters out with that infuriating smirk, and half the audience loses their minds.

Jonathan grins at the camera. "Well folks, we made history tonight - getting both of these artists in the same room without security intervention!"

You cross your legs primly, smoothing your skirt. "There's still time for that."

Remus drops into the chair beside you, close enough that his knee brushes yours. You don't pull away. "I don't know, love. After last week, I think we're past needing security."

The audience erupts in "ooohs" as your eyes narrow.

Jonathan leans forward. "Let's address the elephant in the room. The photo seen 'round the world. Y/N, your caption said it was 'just a drunk mistake'—"

"Because it was," you interject.

Remus scoffs. "She was stone cold sober when she dragged me onto that dance floor."

You whirl on him. "I did not drag you!"

"You literally grabbed my wrist—"

"—Because you were standing there like a lost puppy!"

Jonathan blinks between you two. "This is... exactly how I imagined this would go."

Jonathan pulls up the infamous photo on the screen behind you. "Now Y/N, you're saying this meant nothing, but your hand is clearly—"

"Can we not analyze my hand placement like it's the Zapruder film?" you snap.

Remus grins. "I don't mind the analysis."

You glare at him. "Of course you don't. You've probably framed this photo by your bed."

"On my nightstand actually. Right next to my Grammy."

You gasp dramatically. "That was a sham and you know it! Best New Artist my ass—"

Jonathan cuts in quickly. "Moving on! Remus, Sirius tweeted that this was all a publicity stunt—"

Remus's smile falters for half a second. "Padfoot talks too much."

You raise an eyebrow. "Wait, so it was a stunt?"

He turns to you, suddenly serious. "Do you really think I'd fake that?"

The audience collectively holds its breath.

Jonathan claps his hands. "Let's play a game! 'Fact or Fiction' - we'll make statements about the other person, and you have to guess if they're true."

You groan. "This is childish."

Remus smirks. "I'll go first. Y/N has a tattoo of my face on her—"

"FICTION," you snap as the audience howls.

Jonathan reads the first real prompt: "Y/N has all of The Marauders' albums on vinyl."

You hesitate just a beat too long. "...Fiction."

Remus's eyes light up. "Liar."

"I do not!"

"Then why does Mary keep sending me photos of your record collection?"

You gape at him. "MARY?!"

Jonathan sobers slightly. "Serious question - is there any world where we might see a collaboration between you two?"

You and Remus answer simultaneously: "Never." "Depends."

You turn to glare at him. "Depends on what?"

He holds your gaze. "If you ask nicely."

The audience loses it. You feel your cheeks heat.

Jonathan grins. "Well folks, I think we got our answer. Tune in next week to see if these two kill each other or—"

You stand abruptly. "We're done here."

Remus stands more slowly, leaning down to murmur something in your ear that makes you swat at his chest. The cameras catch every second as you storm off, Remus following with that infuriating smirk.

You whirl on him the moment you're off-camera. "What the hell was that?"

Remus crowds you against the wall. "That was fun."

"You humiliated me!"

His expression softens. "I was trying to tell you something before you ran off."

You freeze. "What?"

He leans in, lips brushing your ear just like at the club. "Check your texts."

Then he's gone, leaving you breathless against the wall.

Remus: The answer is yes, by the way. To Jonathan's question. I'd collaborate with you anytime. Remus: But only if I get to choose the duet. I know just the song. Remus: It's the one where you're in my lap.

Part 3 anyone?

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whore4gwen · 9 months ago

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Everything & More･ﾟ･｡

Young!Larissa x Milf!Reader

A/n: I have a screenshot of the ask, but I can’t find the actual ask anywhere!?😭 I sincerely apologize & hope whoever gets to see it! Hopefully, whoever did ask, I hope you don’t mind that I changed the concept slightly.

It’s been way too long since I’ve written for dear Larissa. I hope this is acceptable.

Tags: age gap, slight guilt, oral sex, begging, humiliation, pet names, slights religious themes, brief face riding, volume control, slight orgasm denial, borderline obsessive Larissa, Larissa is NOT a minor, play it safe & go with 19, top Larissa, bottom reader, fingering, all consensual, down bad reader & a very down bad Larissa, I think that’s it lmk if I missed any!

———————————————————————

You knew it was wrong, but how could anything that wrong feel so good? A small gasp erupted from your chest as butterflies filled your stomach.

Larissa pulled your thighs, scooting you, as if possible, closer to her ravenous mouth. She feasted on your center voraciously, as if she had been starved.

“Ooh Larissa.” You moaned as quietly as you could, burying your finger tips within the strands of Larissa’s hair, riding her face.

Your legs clutched together, suffocating Larissa between your thighs; not that she minded though, eating you out was heaven, it was all she imagined that it would be and more.Larissa would gladly worship the very ground you walked on, expecting any fate you deemed fit. She just couldn’t get enough of you, your smell, taste, sound, it consumed Larissa’s every thought.

“I-I’m so so close, please!” You begged, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Smirking, Larissa pulled away from your soaping core, “I would be quiet if I was you darling, it would be a shame if your daughter woke up and walked in on her mother, with her legs wide open, whoreing herself out to her daughters best friend.” Larissa teased in fake pity.

Groaning at yourself, you look away from Larissa, regret washing over you. Before you could think too much more about it, a bolt of ecstasy shot through you as Larissa pumped two fingers into you eagerly.

You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sinful sounds threatening to fill the air.

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” Larissa asked, licking a broad stripe up your clit. Confused, your brows furrowed, as you gave her a questionable look. Smirking again, “It turns you on having your daughters’ friend fuck you for anyone to see, for her to see, doesn’t it?”

Blushing, you quickly advert your eyes away from Larissas. The weight of her words gnawing at your chest. You want to feel more than a tinge of regret, but it’s so difficult when a sexy blonde is knuckles deep inside you. Larissa watches a hoard of emotions sweep across your face. She smiles menacingly at her small victory.

Everything is going exactly as Larissa anticipated. She got close to your daughter so she could get close to you, everything Larissa did, she did for you.

#larrisa weems #larissa weems smut #wednesday netflix #larissa x reader #smut warning #i miss her #larissa #principal weems #gwendoline christie #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #fem4fem #shameless smut

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squid-bunny-msi · 3 months ago

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HOPELESS FROM THE LEFT RIGHTS IS A PRE-MSI SONG AND IT'S THE EARLIEST RECORD EVER BY JAMES EURINGER (1989)

BEAR WITH ME STAY TIL THE END I SWEAR THIS THEORY MAKES SENSE. I can't draw so I just be typing words🤣🤣😂😂

First off, this theory isn't mine, but from a reddit user in a 2021 post, Most I'm doing is bringing this up to you guys in a more ""condensed way"". (I finished and I realized I just made it longer fuck me)

We know Jimmy has a habit of saving songs for later releases, like with YRTA and IF. But I don’t think Hopeless is a track that was made 4 or 6 years ago for the album. I actually think it’s from about 20 years before Bad Choices Made Easy (2010), and it's an 89-90's song and here’s why

1-Jimmy's voice and singing style belong more to the PINK /Tight era than the HIL or even YRTA era

Jimmy's voice at 40 is deeper and more mature than when he was 20, along with a different singing style.

I'll leave a comparison of Eat Those Words (2013), Panty Shot (1997), Pussy all night (1998) and finally Hopeless (circa 1989).

1-40 yo Jimmy vs 20 yo Jimmy

2-Jimmy's high notes and falsettos in the 90s

3-Hopeless

2-Michael Andrew Pascal, pre-MSI friend of Jimmy could be in this song and is credited on The Left Rights:

In the screenshots of old copyrighted songs by James Euringer pre-1990, we can see he has the pseudonym of "JAMES NEMO", while also Steve and a Michael Pascal guy are also here.

James is credited for words, music, performance, arrangement

Steve is credited for music, performance, and arrangement

Pascal is also credited for arrangement and performance, meaning that Pascal was physically involved in the songs of these times (singing or dancing along with James and Steve).

(This also appears on Jimmy Urine's page on the MSI wikipedia, the songs are all around 1989 max. )

Now, listen to the beginning of Hopeless again. Do you recognize three different voices? It seems like Andrew starts with the 'Here we go, break it down' part James says 'No bass, no synth, just da beats' in a peppy voice and sings 'I met this girl and she was so fine,' and then Steve delivers the 'I've traveled far, I've met the girlies' part (?) or maybe it's the 'I love 'em and leave 'em! I shove 'em and heave 'em' line. (To be honest, I'm not really familiar with Steve's voice u_u).

On top of that, look who is credited in the Thank you section of Bad Choices made easy (scan by Cain @tghtr )

The original poster said that Andrew Pascal is credited here, but not in the rest of the thank you sections of MSI albums, I don't have MSI's whole discography to check their Thank you sections, but for people that do, I encourage to check this up yourselves!

3-They don't sound like they're in a studio:

You can clearly hear a reverb at the beginning of the song because it doesn’t seem like they’re in a studio, but rather in an empty room. It's not a reverb done digitally. This could be because it was just a casual recording, something you’d record on a cassette tape recorder. All 1989 recordings of Jimmy are put under the category of "sound cassette"

Considering this, there are high chances that Hopeless is the EARLIEST RECORD of Jimmy Urine singing, being 1989, even before Pink. Could also not be 1989 if Andrew was still around making beats with Jimmy but weren't copyrighted in the site, James Nemo is still registered in max 1993. But the songs where Andrew is included are max 1989.

Jimmy said multiple times that he re-uses old songs if they sound good to him. So this wouldn't be new, but still fascinating.

This is getting too long brother they dont pay me enough, like and reblog if u read allat and lmk what do u think 😱

#read allat and you have my heart #good theory yes or nah?#mindless self indulgence #msi #jimmy urine #little jimmy urine #james euringer #james euringer msi #msi band #random msi fact #my texts

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stylestarkey · 3 months ago

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the debutante’s dilemma (05)

𐙚 a rafe cameron social media and irl au

pairing rafe cameron X carrera!reader

summary spending every summer in the outer banks with your cousin kiara carrera were always a given—a break from the chaos of new york city. but this year is different. your mom, now an organiser for the annual debutante ball, is determined to introduce you to society. and you have a dilemma: finding the perfect escort.

warnings swearing.

navigation masterlist 04 05 06

liked by kiecarrera, rafecameron and 314 others

yn.carrera a week in obx 🌺

view all comments

user1 when do you get back? ↳ yn.carrera end of july!!

user2 nyc misses u ↳ yn.carrera i miss u too 🥹

sarahcameron send me our pic on imessage rn WE LOOK GOOD ↳ rafecameron you can’t screenshot that shit? ↳ yn.carrera insta makes the quality ass ↳ sarahcameron ^ you get me !

kiecarrera my fav cousin ↳ yn.carrera i’m your only cousin…

ruthiethornton too pretty ↳ yn.carrera thanks ruthie!

ashleystevens okayy cutie ↳ yn.carrera 💞💞

kathcruz finest debutante in obx ↳ yn.carrera brb crying you’re so sweet

topperthornton who’s the girl on the left ↳ sarahcameron hi ↳ yn.carrera get outta here

rafecameron cute ↳ rafecameron nails ↳ yn.carrera hm i wonder who chose the design

rehearsal was going surprisingly well today. the movements felt smoother, more natural, like everyone was finally starting to get the hang of it. after spending more time with rafe, you’d grown comfortable around him—comfortable enough to exchange quick remarks and teasing glances in between steps.

now, during the break, you found yourself in the bathroom, washing your hands at the sink after using the toilet. the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, and the echo of distant chatter filled the empty space. just as you turned the faucet off, the door swung open.

ruthie and ashley walked in, their expensive perfume lingering in the air, mixing with the sharp scent of bathroom soap.

“oh, hey guys,” you greeted, forcing a small smile as you dried your hands.

ruthie met your gaze in the mirror, applying her lip balm with practiced ease. “you seem close with rafe, y/n.”

your stomach tensed slightly, but you shrugged. “he’s my escort. i guess he’s just… there.”

ashley let out a hum, exchanging a glance with ruthie. “see, we usually don’t warn rafe’s fuck buddies but since we actually like you…” ruthie trailed off, capping her lip balm with a sharp click. “you should be careful around him.”

you frowned. “i’m not his hookup.”

“doesn’t matter,” ashley said, examining her nails like this was just another casual conversation. “remember what he did to that girl in his junior year?”

ruthie shot her a warning look, but ashley just shrugged.

“what are you talking about?” you asked, your curiosity piqued despite the uneasy feeling settling in your chest.

ruthie sighed, tilting her head slightly. “fine. we’ll tell you, but you didn’t hear it from us.”

as if you had anyone else to hear it from.

“two years ago, rafe was dared to take this girl’s virginity. and after he got what he wanted?” she made a dramatic pause. “he left her. like she was nothing.”

ashley leaned against the sink, grinning like this was some juicy gossip. “she left school and never came back.”

your stomach twisted uncomfortably. you weren’t sure what to say. it felt like something straight out of a wattpad book—a bad boy, a bet, an innocent girl left heartbroken.

“wow, that’s shitty,” the words felt clumsy on your tongue.

ashley smirked. “i know, right? like, who does that?”

ruthie took a step closer, lowering her voice just slightly. “look, we’re just saying… don’t fall for his games, y/n.”

you inhaled sharply, grounding yourself. “i don’t think there’s any games in the first place, but thanks for telling me. we’re just friends.”

before either of them could say anything else, jasmine poked her head in. “you guys done? coach wants us back.”

you took that as your cue to leave, walking out without another word.

as you got back to the dance floor, rafe was already waiting for you, hands in his pockets.

“what took you so long? took a shit?” he teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

you rolled your eyes and smacked his arm lightly. “you’re so childish. ruthie and ashley were just telling me a story about you.”

his smirk faded instantly. “what did they say?”

you hesitated for a second too long, and his gaze darkened.

“what did they say?” his voice was sharper now, more demanding.

you sighed. “they said you messed around with a girl and was dared to… take her virginity or whatever. honestly, it sounded hardly believable.”

the second the words left your mouth, he stormed off, shoving the door open so hard it slammed against the wall.

your stomach dropped.

“what’s wrong with cameron?” coach’s voice cut through the silence.

you blinked, still processing. “i—i don’t know.”

coach sighed. “well, go after him! what are you waiting for?”

you hesitated before finally running outside.

“rafe!” you called, but you were too late.

his car was already speeding off down the road, taillights glowing in the dimming light.

you stood there, heart hammering in your chest, wondering what exactly you’d said wrong.

navigation masterlist 04 05 06

note f that ho ruthie and ashley - H <3

comment to be in the taglist — @chaengist @starkeysfile @sexualparkour @dontknow3m @vivian-555 @amterasuu @baocean @luvrclub @neocockthotology @hooniel0v3 @cinnamon-girl4life @rafes4 @my-name-is-baby

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smau #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey #drew starkey fic #outer banks #outer banks fic #obx #obx fic

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sacrednova · 5 months ago

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Drive me home | SImon "Ghost" Riley | 9

fem!reader | In this story, a young woman mistakenly texts Simon "Ghost" Riley, thinking he's her Uber driver after a wild night out. Despite his gruff, reserved nature, Simon shows up. Contains fake screenshots with texts messages and calls!!!! Start reading from the beginning: Part 1

It was embarrassing to admit, even in the privacy of her own thoughts, but yes—she had been imagining what it would be like to be kissed by Simon.

And hell, that wasn’t weird, was it? Most people do that. Right?

Still, the reality of it—the absolute truth she had to swallow—was that whatever fantasy she had conjured up in her head was nothing compared to this.

Because she had been wrong. Completely wrong.

If she’d been waiting for something rough, desperate, and unhinged… Simon Riley was none of those things.

Oh, wait—are you still wondering? Are you waiting for confirmation that this wasn’t some fever dream?

Yes, he kissed her.

Right there. In that very moment.

His hands—those massive hands that could crush, could kill—were cradling her face as if she were made of glass. Thumbs brushing against her skin, steady, reverent.

And his lips? God, his lips.

They moved.

Firm. Decisive. Not hurried or impatient but unrelenting in their purpose. There was no room for her to doubt, no room for hesitation, as his kiss pulled her under. Deep. So deep that breathing felt impossible—not that she cared.

Between the pressure of his mouth, the heat of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth against her lower lip—fuck, her chest burned like she’d forgotten how to inhale.

And then there was that sound. That sound.

A faint, gravelly groan, ripped from his throat when she instinctively pulled back to gasp for air. It was so quiet, so raw, but it sent shivers tearing down her spine.

There were no words.

No words for the way his scent—cologne and warmth and a hint of bourbon—wrapped around her like a drug.

No words for the way his fingers tightened, just slightly, against her jaw, as though grounding her.

No words for the way he made her entire body hum, alive in a way it had never been before.

Simon Riley kissed her like no one else ever had.

And maybe—maybe—no one else ever could.

And, as some wise old soul had said before, good doesn’t last.

The kiss ended.

Her lips, still tingling, parted as if to chase after him, to bring him back. But the moment was already slipping between her fingers like grains of sand.

Her eyes opened, searching—aching—for that soft gaze he’d given her throughout the night. That fleeting glimpse of vulnerability, of humanity, that seemed to crack through his carefully constructed armor.

But she didn’t find it.

Instead, Simon buried his face in her shoulder, the warmth of his breath brushing her skin, uneven and shallow. His broad shoulders, towering and imposing, were hunched as if bracing against a storm.

His hands came up, planting themselves on the wall on either side of her head, boxing her in—but not in the way that made her heart race with anticipation. No, this was different.

His chest heaved with deep, deliberate breaths, as though he was trying to wrestle control over something he couldn’t quite contain.

He was close—too close—but it wasn’t enough.

Not like this.

The silence between them felt heavy, like it carried the weight of something unsaid, something he didn’t have the courage to speak.

She wanted to reach out, to run her fingers through his hair, to coax him out of whatever war he was fighting within himself.

But she didn’t.

Because she could feel it—the invisible wall slamming back into place, shutting her out.

Her throat tightened as she whispered, “Simon?”

His body stiffened at the sound of his name, but he didn’t move. Didn’t look at her.

Instead, his voice came low, raw, muffled against her shoulder.

“Shouldn’t’ve done that.”

It felt like one of those movies—the bad romantic ones. The ones where the girl somehow “gets” the bad guy, the one who couldn’t love anyone.

Was that this? Was he the bad guy? And was she supposed to be the fool who tried anyway?

Her heart thudded unevenly in her chest as the words slipped from her lips, quiet and careful.

“What do you mean?”

She already knew. Or at least, she thought she did. Simon wasn’t like other men—wasn’t like anyone she’d known. If she wanted anything with him, anything real, she’d have to take her time. Go slow.

But then doubt twisted in her chest, the sharp edges of insecurity cutting into her voice.

“You didn’t like it?” she asked softly, hating how small she sounded.

“I did,” he said, the words landing heavy between them, like they carried a weight even he couldn’t quite bear. His head dipped lower, his breath brushing her neck, and when his nose grazed her skin, she nearly melted on the spot.

“It’s… different,” he admitted, voice rough and raw.

Her breath hitched. “Bad or good?”

Simon went still. For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. That he’d let the silence swallow them whole.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he muttered, “…Never been good at it.”

Her lips curved into the smallest, faintest smile, her courage rising as her hands dared to slide up, just barely grazing the edges of his jaw.

“Well,” she said, her tone light but her heart hammering, “there’s always a first.”

Her words hung in the air, daring, inviting. A challenge.

And for a moment, Simon just stood there, his breath warm against her skin, his fingers twitching at his sides like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Like he was caught between wanting to run and wanting to pull her closer.

But then his hands shifted—uncertain, almost hesitant—resting lightly at her hips, his thumbs brushing over the fabric of her shirt.

His voice dropped even lower, a gravelly whisper against her ear.

“You shouldn’t make it so easy for me.”

"I am not making it easy for you," she admitted, her voice trembling just enough to betray her nerves. She tried to fake calmness, tried to steady herself under his gaze. "I want this. I want to try this... Do you want the same? Do you want to try?"

Fear hung between them, unspoken but heavy.

Not the fear of danger, but the fear of giving too much. Of laying herself bare like an open book. Of being honest with someone who could so easily crush her if he chose.

It wasn’t easy for her, this kind of honesty. The vulnerability felt sharp, like a knife cutting through her defenses. And it stung, realizing just how much she cared whether he answered yes or no.

Because people were supposed to take care of each other’s hearts, weren’t they? That’s what she’d always believed. But life had taught her that not everyone saw it that way. Not everyone cared as much about the weight of compromise or the fragility of feelings.

Did Simon?

Could Simon?

Would he be able to hold her heart—and his own—without breaking both of them in the process?

Past the kisses. Past the electric waves rushing through their bodies. Past the rush of heat and the vibrant swirl of emotions.

Could he stay?

“I do,” he finally said, his voice low, almost cautious. “But I can’t promise you for it to be good.”

Her lips twitched into a small, almost teasing smile. “Hm, are you some kind of crazy man?”

He paused, tilting his head slightly, his lips curving into that faint, almost-smile of his. “Well—”

“Wait, do not answer that one,” she cut in, raising a hand as if to stop him mid-thought.

And there it was—a sound she hadn’t expected but instantly craved to hear again. A soft, muffled laugh, more breath than sound, but it still warmed the air between them.

It worked for her.

It worked too well.

It started with another kiss. Or maybe two. No—too many to count. Each one blurred into the next, her mind spinning in a haze of heat and sensation. His hands roamed her back, strong and steady, pulling her closer every time she thought she'd manage to pull away. And when she finally broke free—almost free—she could still feel his breath on her lips, his grip lingering on her hips, like his touch had marked her somehow.

“I—uh, gimme a sec,” she stammered, stumbling out of his hold, practically tripping over her own feet as she backed toward the bathroom.

She closed the door behind her, pressing her back against it as she tried to catch her breath. She glanced at herself in the mirror—flushed cheeks, wide eyes, hair slightly mussed. God. Get it together.

But instead of calming herself down, she grabbed her phone and immediately texted Millie.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as a new wave of panic set in. She could picture him out there—tall, calm, probably standing there like he owned the place. What was he even doing? Just waiting for her?

Her phone buzzed, and Millie’s reply came through almost instantly.

Breathe. Right.

She set her phone down, splashed some water on her face, and opened the door—only to find him standing in her room.

“Simon?”

He didn’t answer right away. His back was to her, and he was holding something in his hands. She stepped closer, her heart racing as she realized he was looking at one of her photos.

He glanced over his shoulder, holding up the frame. “This you?”

It was an old picture—her and Millie at some party, laughing at something stupid. She wasn’t sure why it felt so embarrassing, but it did. Maybe it was because he looked so... normal about it, like standing in her room and picking through her life wasn’t a big deal at all.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she said, crossing her arms as her nerves crept up again.

His eyes wandered. Not in a leering way—he wasn’t looking at her so much as everything else. Her books. Her clothes draped over a chair. The half-open drawer with socks spilling out.

“You don’t mind me snooping, do you?” he asked, completely deadpan, as if he wasn’t already doing just that.

“Mind? Are you serious right now?” she shot back, trying to sound annoyed but mostly sounding flustered.

His lips twitched into the faintest smirk, and he set the photo down. “Relax. Just... getting to know you.”

“By going through my stuff?”

“Better than askin’ questions you don’t want to answer,” he said, his tone light but carrying just enough weight to make her heart skip a beat.

She didn’t know whether to scream at him or kiss him again.

"Better than asking," he repeated, his voice low, almost teasing, and she knew it was an indirect. Of course, it was.

"Huh! I knew you didn't want me asking," she quipped back, tilting her chin up in mock defiance, though her heart was doing flips in her chest.

The corner of his mouth twitched, his cocky expression settling into something so effortlessly hot it made her knees weak. Shit, did I say that with my face?!

"You can ask," he replied smoothly, stepping closer. "Just don’t wait for me to answer all of 'em."

The air thickened. His steps were slow but deliberate, and before she could think too hard about what was happening, his hands were on her again. It was natural now, like something between them had shifted, something fragile had finally given way. That invisible thread keeping them close but never close enough had snapped, and now nothing was holding him back.

He touched her like he’d been waiting a lifetime to do it. His hands clenched the fabric of her dress, pulling her in, anchoring her to him. His lips found her neck, slow and deliberate, and she swore she felt her heart stop.

It was too much. Too good. The way his breath brushed her skin, the way his stubble scraped lightly against her collarbone, the way every sigh she let out seemed to spur him on.

Her hands found his shoulders, gripping tightly as if to steady herself, but it only pulled him closer. His lips moved lower, and she felt her head tilt back of its own accord, giving him more space, letting him in without a word.

And God, the little sounds she made—the soft, shaky sighs, the unsteady inhales—they undid him. He wasn’t sure what he was chasing anymore: the sound of her breath, the feel of her against him, or the rush of finally having what he’d craved.

“Simon,” she whispered, and it wasn’t a plea or a question—it was a breaking point. For both of them.

Oh. God.

OH. FUCKING GOD.

She had seen naked men before. Sure, it was a thing that happened. Nothing special, nothing to write home about. She’d never really felt like it was something to admire, to worship, to actually see.

But now?

Hell itself had grabbed her ankles, yanked her down into a fire she didn’t know she could burn in, and whispered, "Naughty little thing," in every possible way.

Simon wasn’t naked. Not yet. He was just taking his shirt off.

JUST THE FUCKING SHIRT.

And yet here she was, back arching slightly against the bed, legs pressing together at the sight. It wasn’t just about the skin. It was about him, about the way his body moved as he pulled the fabric over his head. He wasn’t overly defined, not the kind of body you’d see in magazines. He didn’t need to be. He was something else entirely—raw, powerful. His body wasn’t built to be admired; it was forged to be a weapon.

Dangerous.

And yet, somehow, she couldn’t help but think... it was made to protect, too.

Her eyes traced the scars littering his skin, each one a story carved into his body, and for a moment, the heat of the room cooled just slightly. A twinge of worry crept into her thoughts. She wasn’t a medic, but she knew enough to understand that a bullet to the chest wasn’t something you just shrugged off.

“Few stories you have here…” she murmured, her fingers itching to reach out but hesitating.

“Hm, some…” His voice was low, almost casual, but when he turned his gaze to her, that stare nearly broke her. It was like he could see straight through her, but not in a way that unsettled her. It made her feel known. "Problem?"

“Not at all,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

The marks on his skin would never be a problem.

But the ones inside him?

Those were a different story entirely.

Another way to make her freeze.

That was what this was, wasn’t it? Another way of making her blood run cold and hot at the same time. Her eyes grew wide, her cheeks flushed crimson, her lungs filled with shaky breaths, and her stomach... God, that weird, fluttering feeling that tied her insides into knots.

It wasn’t until he took the last piece of her clothing away that she truly felt it—completely exposed.

Not exposed as in no clothes. No, this was deeper, more intimate. It was like he had peeled her open, layer by layer, until there was nothing left but her. Every insecurity, every thought, every feeling laid bare under his gaze.

She had never felt like this before—like she was completely at someone’s mercy—and actually wanted that person to like what they saw.

“Gorgeous,” he said, his voice low, thick, full of something she couldn’t quite name.

But what caught her wasn’t his words. It was his eyes. He wasn’t staring at her body, though she had expected that. No, his gaze stayed on her face—on her wide, shining eyes, the curve of her flushed cheeks, the soft part of her lips as she tried to catch her breath.

Simon saw her.

And it made her feel more naked than anything else ever could.

She didn’t know what to do with the way he looked at her, the way he felt about her. But Simon? Simon was discovering something entirely new, a terrain he’d never stepped foot on before.

New feelings, new emotions.

And there was no unknowing it now.

How could he un-learn the way his heart tightened when she smiled? The way his entire body burned with the need to protect her, to care for her? How could he stop liking her, stop wanting her, stop craving the way she looked at him like he was someone worth staying for?

How could Simon Riley stop wanting to be around her?

He couldn’t.

There was no turning back.

But there was never really any turning back, was there?

If Simon thought about it long enough, he’d see it. The exact moment it all started. That first night she texted him. A simple, stupid message. And then? His mind just wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

What happened to him being empty? Being cold?

There used to be a hollow point in his chest—a dark, unfeeling void he’d relied on for years. But now? Now, it felt... strange. Unfamiliar. Like something had started to fill it.

Not all at once, but in pieces.

Doubt. Wanting. Waiting.

Waiting for something more. For something bigger than the bullets, maps, and blood that made up his life.

And now here he was, staring down at her—her skin glowing in the low light, her chest rising and falling with shallow, rapid breaths as his lips trailed along her collarbone.

Her body moved under his hands, and it made him feel... whole. Full. More alive than he’d ever been.

There was nothing in the world that could compare to this.

Nothing.

Nothing close to the sound of her gasping his name, to the feel of her gripping his shoulders like she’d drown without him.

And definitely nothing close to how badly he wanted her to see him.

Not just his body. Not just his scars. Not the mask he wore every single day to keep the world out.

No, he wanted her to see him.

Him and only him.

HEY YOU! The next chapter will be the last one before I take a break—I want to take some time to work and think properly about where I want this story to go. Thank you for your patience! ❤️ (In the meantime, requests are open!) If you want to stay updated about the comeback, let me know, and I’ll add you to the tag list! 😊 I don’t want anyone to miss it!

Tags: @sleep101 @all-by-myself98 @h0ney-mushroom @beelzebee @momowhoo @sheepdogchick3 @sleepisfortheweakpooh

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #cod modern warfare #ghost fanfiction #cod headcanons #fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ghost cod #fem reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #x reader

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samanthacastano02 · 2 months ago

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Message in a Bottle

Felix x FemReader

Trigger Warnings: attempted kidnapping, light violence, fluff, protective SKZ, mentions of past abuse, current injury caused by non-skz members, Probably more

Word Count: 7.7K

Summary: You and Felix unknowingly become pen-pals, having talked now for three years you decide that you want to finally meet him. When he tells you who he is, you think that it’s a prank at first but he assures you that it’s not. What happens when you end up meeting.

Screenshots: 8

photos not mine, except for texts screenshots. Credit goes to the photographers

Message In a Bottle - Taylor Swift (song I used as inspiration)

I had heard about people signing up to get pen-pals for months before I had decided to listen to my best friend and do it as well. He said that it would be good for me to have someone to talk to other than him, he didn’t want me to be lonely when he wasn’t able to talk for long periods of time. When I had been matched up with my pen-pal Felix, it was both the most exciting and most terrifying day I had experienced in a while. He was hesitant to tell me much about himself, not even actually going by his real name, rather going by YoungLix. It didn’t make much sense to me but I didn’t question it because I was sure there was a reason behind it. I had found out that he was living in South Korea but was originally from Sydney Australia, which funny enough also happened to be where I was from as well. When I first started talking to Felix, I told my best friend Chan all about it. At first he was super excited for me but the more I described what I knew about my pen-pal the more he became quiet and responded with short answers. I wasn’t sure what the problem was but I never tried to push it, and he never brought it up. After a year of talking to Felix, I could tell that I was falling for him but I knew that there was no chance that he felt the same for me so I forced myself to move on from him, even though a part of me still liked him.

Present:

A part of me always wanted to know what Felix looked like but I knew that he would never reveal what he looked like to me or who he was. I didn’t know if it was out of fear or out of lack of trust. The other part of me was glad that he didn’t want to because it was hard for me to trust men after what happened with my ex, the only man that I can trust is Chan. If it weren’t for him, I truly do not think that I would be alive right now. He wants me to ask Felix to meet but I can't. I can't face rejection and I can’t face the possibility that he might actually want to meet. I don’t know why he’s so adamant that I meet Felix. Yes, Felix is a sweetheart through and through but nothing could possibly come of it because he doesn’t see me that way. Just as I get too much into my head, I hear my phone go off with a notification that I have a text message, a text message from Felix.

Felix’s POV:

I knew that I should have told y/n that I knew who she was, I knew when Chan had shown me a picture of his childhood best friend. I was slightly scared to tell her because I didn’t want her to stop talking to me because she thought that I had hidden this from her, it’s not that I had wanted to hide it from her. When I had revealed it to Chan that I knew who she was and that I had been paired up with her as her pen-pal, he had told me that she was in a relationship, so I didn’t tell her then as to not make that more complicated for her, but then Chan mentioned that her relationship ended but on bad terms. He wouldn’t go into detail about it but I knew that it was bad, he told me that it wasn’t his place to explain the details and that it was up to her to reveal those details when she was ready. He knows how I feel about her, he knows that I am head over heels for her and that I want nothing more than to love her, but he also knows that she is terrified and might not accept another relationship. It hurts that he thinks she might not want a relationship with me but I want to hold onto the hope that one day she will.

Your POV:

I want to meet Felix but part of me is scared to even ask if he’d be willing to meet. What if he says no, and then I have to live with the fact that the only other person other than my ex that I have ever wanted doesn’t even want to meet me. Ever since my ex, I know that I am insecure and I know that I still have a lot of healing to do, but I want to be able to do that healing with Felix. I don’t even know how to explain the way that he makes me feel, the warm fluffy feeling he gives me whenever he texts me and calls me sunshine. That nickname all started one day when I had complained that I felt like I had no one and was super sad, so he told me that if I felt like I had no one I could be his someone and be his sunshine. I knew that he was only telling me that to make me feel better but the nickname stuck and since then for the last two years he’s called me his sunshine. I want to be his sunshine in person, I want to be his girlfriend and be with him and travel with him and just be there for him. I want to take that leap and trust him.

I’m not sure how to respond to that so I decide that for right now I don’t need to. I don’t know how to dress or act anymore around someone who isn’t Chan. I haven’t been on a date or even out with anyone in a year and a half since things ended with my ex. While I had known Felix for three years, we had never called and he had never shared a photo of himself but I had shown him one photo of myself after he had practically begged me to. I knew that I needed Chan's input on what to do and how I should approach this.

Felix’s POV:

I was in the practice room going over my solo for what felt like the hundredth time, I knew it like the back of my hand but I wanted it to be perfect for STAY because I knew that there could always be improvements made for it. I was so into my practice that I didn’t hear the door open, I damn near jumped out of my skin when I looked in the mirror and saw that Chan was standing by the door. He had to take about five minutes to calm himself down from laughing so hard when he watched me jump from scaring me. I glared at him while waiting for him to stop laughing at me.

“Channie Hyung, what are you doing here?”

“I hear that you will be meeting y/n finally.” “Yea, when we are in Australia, I will be taking her out to dinner.” “Felix, you need to tell her who you are before that. That you know who I am, don’t surprise her the day of because she will run off.” “Why?”

“She has had a hard life, her past has not been kind to her and the moment she is scared she will run as a defense mechanism. She wants to heal and be happy, but she doesn’t know how to without being scared.” “What happened to her?”

“I’m starting to realise that she’s not going to tell you on her own, Felix.”

“It’s bad isn’t it.” “Yea it is, do you remember when I had to take that short leave around a year and a half ago and I went back home for a month?” “Yeah? You said that there was a family emergency.” “While that is partly true, it wasn’t biological family that had the emergency.” “It was yn.”

“Yes.”

“Chris, what happened that caused you to go home for a month.” “Y/n’s ex, was very abusive and controlling,

Chris’s Pov:

I had gotten a call from y/n asking me for help saying that she wanted to leave her ex because he had been controlling her and had started hitting her. She was scared that it was going to get worse and if she didn’t leave him soon, he was going to cause her even more harm than he already had. I immediately talked to JYP and explained that there was a family emergency that required my attention and that I needed to be home for a month at least. I was thankful that he gave me the month off and that I was able to go home and help her.

When I got to Australia, I immediately started helping y/n slowly and secretly pack up her essentials, things that she would need. I knew that I would be able to replace her other things that she couldn’t take with her. She was terrified that if she took too many things that he would be able to tell that she was planning on leaving and he would try to stop her. So together we only packed a few of her favorite clothing items, her memorabilia and the stuffed animals that she had collected over the years. Slowly moving them into a new apartments closer to my parents place, so that she would have someone near her that she knew. My parents wanted her to live with them but she didn’t want to burden them, even when they insisted she refused. It broke my parents hearts that she was going through this because y/n was like another daughter to them, after y/n’s parents died my parent’s helped raise her and her older brother until he had joined the military. That’s how y/n and I had become best friends, through her older brother, the three of us were like three peas in a pod. We were inseparable, always together. Her brother had always wanted to join the military and he did, but a year after I had debuted he was killed in action, leaving y/n completely alone and it killed me that I couldn’t be here for her, thankfully Hanah took over my job as best friend and helped keep her happy.

The night that everything was supposed to happen, y/n’s ex was supposed to be at work but he had come home early and had caught y/n when she was trying to leave. He had prevented her from leaving, pinning her to the ground by her throat, it was a miracle that she was able to place a call out to me. When I answered the phone all I could hear was her struggling, I knew that she needed help. I don’t know how many traffic laws I broke trying to get to her old apartment so that I could help her. I beat the police there, when I got there I found y/n unconscious on the ground with her ex above her. All I saw was red, I ripped him off of her, I knew that I still needed to protect my idol image so I kept him away from her until the police arrived and took him away. I was able to ride with her to the hospital and stay until she woke up.

When she woke up, she wouldn’t let anyone near her, not even me. It broke me that she had lost trust in everyone around her. She wouldn’t talk about what had happened with her ex before she had called me and before I had arrived but by what I could piece together I knew that it wasn’t good. I stayed with her for as long as I could until I had to go back to Korea. My parents and Hanah continued to stay with her and help her while she recovered.

Felix’s POV:

“Wow, Chan I had no idea that she had been through that much.” “She doesn’t talk about it much. I know that it still affects her a lot.” “I’ll make sure to talk to her as soon as possible. I don’t want to scare her off. I want her to feel safe and comfortable with me.” “I’m really glad to hear that.” “I care about her a lot Chan.” “I know she doesn’t say it but she cares about you as well.” “You really think so?” “I know so Felix.”

“Chan, I know that I have never spoken to her over the phone other than text, I have never seen her in person, but I know that I love her.” “If you give her time, I know that she could love you to Felix.”

With that I have the hope that one day y/n might be able to love me in the way that I love her. If I give her time and show her that I am not like her ex and will never be like her ex, she might learn to love me. With a smile on my face I continue to practice my solo stage with a new found vigor and happiness. Chan left me to continue to practice, if I had looked in the mirror I would have seen him watching me with a smile, knowing that two of his best friends were slowly finding their way towards happiness.

Your POV:

It had been a horrible day at work, my boss was an ass and a creep. Not leaving me alone no matter what I said or did to try and get him to leave me alone. Not even pretending that I had a boyfriend would get him to leave me alone, he just said that if I had a boyfriend why did he never hear anything about it and why did he never see him around at work events where other partners were invited. I wanted to report him to hr but he was the head boss's son and I knew that all he would get was a slap on the wrist, and the worst I could get was actually fired. If I waited just one more week I would get to see Crhis and finally meet Felix. He had made sure to text me every day and he was always so sweet to me. I sadly hadn’t heard much from him today but at the same time I was pretty busy myself and if I had been able to respond I knew that I wouldn’t have been very good company. When I did finally receive his text, it definitely wasn’t what I was expecting. I didn’t know whether I should be scared or excited at what he was asking.

I expect him to not call me, thinking that it’s a prank but instead my phone screen lights up with his caller id. I pick up, thinking that he’s not going to say anything but before I can say anything I can hear him begging me to not hang up and to let him explain his reasoning behind not telling me right away that he did know who I was.

“Y/n, before you hang up on me. Please let me explain.” I hear Felix’s deep voice beg.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you knew who I was and that you knew Chris?” “I didn’t want to scare you off. I was scared that if I told you I knew, that you would get scared.” “I guess that’s fair, after what’s happened to me.” “I didn’t mean to keep it from you for so long.” “Did you think that I would have been mad that you were also Chan’s friend and a part of Stray Kids?”

“I don’t know. I just didn’t want you to stop talking to me. You mean too much for me to lose.” “Don’t ever tell Chris that I told you this, but you have always been my bias in Stray Kids.”

“You’re joking.” “Nope.” I laugh out.

I don’t know how long we spent on the phone together, all I know is that when I woke up the next morning we were still on the call together. I could hear movement on his end. I don’t know why he didn’t end up hanging up but a part of me was thankful that he didn’t, it was nice to know that he wanted to stay on the phone even when there wasn’t any conversation happening. I didn’t want him to continue to think that I was still asleep, so I made sure to let him know that I was awake.

“Good morning Felix, I hope you slept well.” “Jesus, y/n. Give a man a warning before you scare the living shit out of him.” “I’m sorry. To be honest though, I thought you would have hung up last night when I fell asleep.” “You asked me not to.”

“I did?” “Yeah, do you not remember?” “No, I don’t. But you could have once I was asleep. I was probably sleep deprived and not thinking.” “Y/n, it’s ok. I didn’t mind being on the phone the entire night as you slept. It was actually quite refreshing having someone there even if it wasn’t physically.” “Well I’m glad that I could help.” “I honestly wouldn’t mind doing that more often.”

“We could probably manage to make a habit of it.” “We can talk about it more tonight, sadly I have to go. Seungmin is getting impatient and doesn’t want to be late to recording today.”

“Go, I don’t want you to be late.” “It would be worth it for you.” “Felix, go. Don’t be late.” “Fine, fine. I’ll talk to you tonight.”

Before I can respond he hung up and I’m left on my own. I can’t believe that I have inadvertently known who my pen-pal is this whole time. I know that all of Chan’s member’s from his group are super nice and super sweet and caring, so I know that there is nothing to worry about when it comes to Felix. It still doesn’t stop the subconscious fear that something bad will happen.

Night of Concert:

I thought that I would be meeting Felix for the first time in person before the concert but their schedule unfortunately didn’t allow him time until after their concert. He assured me time and time again that if I was uncomfortable he would stay away and just let me spend tonight with Chan but I wanted to also spend time with him. I knew that he wouldn’t do anything to make me uncomfortable. Chan knew that I wouldn’t be comfortable out in the crowd so when I arrived at the venue he had security meet me out in the back and walk me back to where the boys were. Before the person that I saw before the concert was Chan, I couldn’t get over the fact of how different he looked from the last time I had seen him.

Watching them perform and the energy that they have was out of this world, just from watching them you could tell that they love their fans and want to do whatever they can to make them happy. I admire them so much for what they are able to do and how much they are able to push themselves.

After the Concert:

I wasn’t entirely sure where I was supposed to meet Chan and the rest of the boys after the concert so I just waited by the side of the stage, waiting while they all said their goodbyes to Stay. I wasn’t paying full attention to my surroundings because for once I felt that I was safe and that nothing would happen to me with Chan right there, only a few feet from me. I was watching, waiting for them to step off the stage when I felt a rough hand grasp my upper arm, and begin to drag me away from the side of the stage.

“I don’t know how you managed to get backstage but you aren’t supposed to be back here.” the person said, I presumed he was a security guard that hadn’t been informed that I had clearance to be back here.

“Ow, please let go of me. I have permission to be back here. I’m friends with Chan. He got me back here himself.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” “I’m telling the truth, if you just wait for him to come off stage he’ll tell you.” “I’m not going to wait and allow you to get close to them.” At this I begin to panic. I didn’t know how much longer they were going to be on stage and I didn’t see any of the other staff around who were there before the show.

“Please, let go of me.” “Not gonna happen.” I try to pull my arm free from him, but his grip tightens on my arm. I cry out in pain and my mind goes into overdrive, I panic and blackout.

Felix’s POV:

Throughout the entire show I could see that y/n had been just off to the side of the stage, she seemed to be really enjoying herself and that made me really happy. I was excited to finally get to meet her, and not just over the phone but we had to close out the show first. Every once in a while throughout the entire show I would look over to her and just seeing the excitement and joy on her face made me even more energetic and as much as I didn’t want to admit it I wanted the show to be over so that I could see her.

As the show was closing, I looked over one last time and saw that she was no longer by the side of the stage. As I looked around for her, I saw that she was getting dragged away by a security guard. I could see the panic on her face and I could feel the panic begin to rise in myself. At this point I really didn’t care what management said or did, all I knew was that I needed to help her and quickly. I ran over to Chan, tapped his shoulder, pointed at her and before he could even respond I was running off the stage towards her and the security guard.

“Stop! What are you doing?” I yell as I get closer to them, at this point y/n has seemed to shut down and curled in on herself.

“She’s a fan that managed to get backstage, I’m removing her from the facility.” The security guard tried to explain. He seemed annoyed that I was preventing him from doing so.

“No she’s not, she is a guest of both Chan and I.”

“Her? You don’t need to pretend just so a fan doesn’t get in trouble.” “Lixie, p-please help.” Y/n finally speaks, the fear in her voice snaps something in me.

“I need you to let go of her now. Especially if you want to keep your job, she is my guest and I do not take kindly to my guest being treated this way.” I start to get angry when he refuses to remove his hand from her arm.

“Felix, what’s happening?” I hear Chan call out from behind me as he and the rest of the group run up. I can see the anger form in Chan’s eyes the moment he sees what’s happening.

“Sir, I suggest you let go of y/n. Like now.” I.N says from behind Chan and I. I take a step towards the guard but he still refuses to let go of her. That’s when I realize, why is he so adamant about not letting her go? “You aren’t actually a part of our staff are you?” I ask, my blood running cold.

“What are you talking about? Of course I am.” The security guard stutters out.

“If you are, then let go of her. She is our guest, she has prior permission from both management and JYP himself to be back here. So there is no reason that you should have any issues letting her go.” Chan continues to try to get him to let her go, while he distracts the security guard. I motioned for Han and Changbin to go find another security guard.

“Who are you?” The security guard comes rushing up with Han and Changbin, that’s when all of us realize that he in fact was not part of our staff.

“Just stay back and no one has to get hurt.” He jerks y/n up, she cries out in pain. Chan seems to freeze, almost knowing what’s happening now.

“Let her go. How much is he paying you to do this?” Chan questions.

“Enough that I’m willing to risk my freedom.” The false security guard responds. At Chan’s question, I realize that it’s her ex that’s behind this. I tap Changbin, trying to tell him that I want him to go with me and get behind the guy, without him realizing that we both have moved.

As Chan and the rest of the members continue to distract the guy and try to get him to release y/n. Changbin and I slowly move so that we are behind the guy, I can’t see what’s happening in front of him anymore but I trust that the rest of the guys will be able to keep things under control until Changbin and I can execute our plan. I don’t know if Chan and y/n have like some secret language but I see y/n duck down and Changbin takes this as his chance to put the false security guard in a headlock, allowing our security to get to the guy while both Chan and I rushed towards y/n. Both he and I could tell that she was in shock and needed to be removed from the situation as soon as possible. Chan gave me one look and nodded. I knew that he wanted me to take y/n away from here, bring her back to our changing room and wait for them until everything was settled.

I swept in and scooped y/n up, carrying her to where our dressing room was. I could feel her wrap herself around me the best she could with the way that I was carrying her, her grip on me tight but not enough to cause me any pain or discomfort. I tightened my grip on her, letting her know that I was there and that I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. I saw one of our staff members rushing around packing things up from the concert, completely unaware of what had happened. I knew that y/n’s arm was going to be bruised so I called out and asked for ice. I was in the room and the door was shut before I could hear a response from the staff member.

“L-lixie. P-please d-don’t let g-go o-of me.” I hear y/n stutter out when we get into the room. I don’t know entirely why she trusts me so much without having actually met me in person but at this point in time I’m really glad that she does.

“I won’t, I promise.” I walk over to the couch, sitting down with her still in my arms.

“Thank you, thank you for finding me before he got me out of the arena.” “Y/n, I will always find you.”

“Do you really mean that?” She almost seems scared of my answer.

“Yes, I will always and I mean always find you when you need me, and I will always be here even when you don’t need me.” “Why, why though?”

“Because, that’s what you do for people that you care about. And I care a lot about you.” “I care about you too Felix.” She responds before cuddling further into me.

Your POV:

I don’t know how long it was before the rest of the guys came into the room, but I must have fallen asleep because I can feel Felix shake me awake at some point. When I finally wake up, I feel something cold press into my arm and when I look down I notice that Felix is holding an ice pack to my arm where the security guard had grabbed. As I look around the room, I notice that the rest of the guys are quietly talking amongst each other while Chan and Felix are talking next to me. I can’t put together exactly what they are saying but when I finally am able to wake up fully, I try to move off of Felix’s lap but he tightens his grip on me, preventing me from getting off him.

“Stay, it’s ok.” He whispers in my ear.

“How long was I out for?” I ask quietly, a little embarrassed that I had fallen asleep.

“Not long, maybe 20 minutes at most.” “I’m sorry that I fell asleep and kept you all waiting.”

“Hey, sunshine don’t worry about it.” Felix responded before anyone else could.

“It’s nice to finally get to meet the famous y/n that Channie Hyung always talks about.” Han interrupts before anyone can say anything.

“Yea! It’s nice to finally put a face to the name that we’ve all heard so many good things about.” Hyunjin adds, smiling lightly at me.

“It’s really nice to meet all of you as well.” “Well, I assume that we all don’t want to stay at the venue any longer than we have to. Y/n I know it’s kind of a long drive back to your place. Did you make sleeping arrangements?” Chan asks me as the rest of the guys but Felix got up to go change.

“Um, no I didn’t. I was just going to drive back tonight.” “Yea no, not gonna happen.”

“Channie Hyung, I don’t mind sleeping on the couch for the night. I have my own room at the virbo we are staying at and she can stay there for the night.” I.N announces out of nowhere, all of us not realizing that he had come back into the room.

“Are you ok with that y/n?”

“Yea, I am.”

Later that Night:

When we all got to the Virbo, I wanted to go to sleep but at the same time I wanted to get to know the guys as well a little bit. It was hard to decide what I wanted to do, I decided that it was late and I wanted to sleep. I knew that the others would understand and be ok with talking in the morning. I follow Felix up to what originally would be I.N’s room, the bed is big and I’m starting to realize that I won’t be as comfortable as I originally thought.

“F-felix. Could you stay just until I fall asleep? Please?”

“Of course.”

I lay down under the covers, Felix starts to lay down on top of them but I don’t want him to be cold or uncomfortable while waiting for me to fall asleep because I don’t know how long it’ll take me. He gives me a questioning look before I nod again, hinting that I am ok with him laying under the covers with me. Once he’s under with me, I cuddle up to him, shocking both of us. I haven’t felt this comfortable with anyone except for Chan since my ex, but I’m glad that I feel comfortable with him. I want to feel comfortable with him. I don’t know how long we just lay there, enjoying each other’s presence, but before we both know it we both fall asleep.

Chan’s POV:

I was looking for Felix, looking on the couch but I couldn’t find him. I had no idea where he was but I wanted to thank him for being so helpful tonight with the whole y/n situation. Finding out that her ex had paid someone to take her scared the crap out of me, I didn’t know what he had planned for her but I knew that in the morning we needed to contact the police. I knew that it should have been done tonight but I couldn’t force even more stress on her, our security had the fake security in custody and would take him to the police station in the morning. I went to the room where Innie was supposed to be staying, the door was slightly open but I heard no movement or sounds coming from within, so I gently nudged the door open. When I looked in, I saw that y/n and Felix were both fast asleep holding onto each other for dear life. I didn’t have the heart to wake Felix up and have him move to the couch, if y/n was comfortable with him being here while she slept then I would let them be.

Y/n was like a little sister to me, I would do anything to see her happy and seeing the way that she’s so comfortable with Felix even after only having met him in person just tonight, I’m glad that she’s happy. I know that he would never do anything to make her uncomfortable, I know that he’ll treat her right when the time comes and she accepts her feelings for him. I decide to leave them alone, shutting the door behind me.

Y/n’s POV (The Next Morning):

When I wake up, it takes me a minute to remember that I’m not at home and that I’m actually at the Virbo with Chan, Felix and the rest of the guys. I go to get up but I hear a grumble from behind me and feel arms tighten around my middle. I momentarily panic before I remember that Felix had laid down with me and he must have fallen asleep with me. I decide to say screw it and turn in his arms. I slowly turn until I am facing him, even in his sleep he looks like an angel. I cuddle further into him, letting his arms wrap around me even more. I have never felt this warm and protected, I don’t ever want this feeling to go away.

“Good morning Sunshine.” Felix’s deep voice momentarily shocks me, forgetting how deep it can actually go.

“Good morning Lixie.”

“How did you sleep? I’m sorry that I fell asleep in here. I swear I meant to move out to the couch.”

“Lixie, it’s ok. If I’m being honest I’m glad that you didn’t go out to the couch. This might be some of the best sleep that I have gotten in a long time.” “Well, in that case I’m glad that I could be of assistance.”

Neither of us continue to talk, I just continue to look up at him and watch as he slowly wakes up. Before I can overthink it or stop myself from doing so, I lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek. I wanted to kiss his lips, they looked so soft and kissable but I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by doing that.

“What was that for?” Felix asks me out of shock.

“My way of saying thank you, again.”

“You really don’t need to thank me y/n.”

“But I want to. You didn’t have to stay in here with me until I fell asleep and you didn’t have to help last night.”

“Of course I would help you. Without hesitation.”

I don’t know how to respond to that so I just cuddle further into him, but he doesn’t let that go on for very long. I feel his hand under my chin, slowly forcing me to look up at him. When I look at him, I can see him looking between my eyes and my lips. I know what he wants to do but he won't unless I give him permission to, I decide that I’m going to make the decision for him. I lean into him and slowly press my lips to his, giving him the chance to pull away if I misread the signals. I hear his breath hitch before he deepens the kiss, pulling me into him more than I already was. The kiss doesn’t last very long before both of us are pulling away, we both are blushing as we look at each other.

“Wow.” I whisper.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that again.” Felix jests with me.

“I wouldn’t either.”

“We should probably get up before the others come barging in here.”

“You’re probably right.”

Felix and I talked to the staff, I knew that they had more SKZ Code to film but they were fine with me staying as long as I stayed out of the way and out of view of the camera. I was fine with that, I want to see what they boys were like when filming and their whole process. After they finished filming Chan had pulled me aside and explained that we still needed to talk to the police about what had happened with the fake security guard and how he was hired by my ex. When the police found out that my ex was behind the false security guard trying to kidnap me they immediately went after him and with the help of Chan and the rest of the guys they were able to arrest him. I knew for now that I was safe and that I didn’t have to worry about my ex trying anything.

Felix and I had wandered off from the rest of the group, not letting anyone know that we had left. We both knew that we should have but we didn’t even think about it, we just wanted to spend time together before he had to go back to Korea. I wanted to go with him, I didn’t want to stay in Australia while he was in Korea but I knew that moving now would be unreasonable. We continued to walk, not really caring where we were going, before we knew it we had ended up on the beach.

“I don’t want to leave, I just got you.” Felix whispered as he stopped walking, pulling me into him.

“I don’t want you to go either, but I can’t keep you here.” “When the tour ends, I want you to come visit me in Korea.”

“But that’s not until almost August. It’s only December, I don’t want to have to wait that long to see you again.”

“Then come with me, on the American leg of the tour.” “Would that even be allowed?”

“I’ll make sure that it gets cleared, I know it’ll be a minute but the American leg starts in May.” “So I won't see you for 5 months?”

“Not at all, whenever I have free time between schedules I will come here and visit you. I want to make this work.”

“I want to make it work as well. I don’t want to lose this opportunity with you.”

He pulls me into him, pulling me to stand in front of him while we watch the sun begin to set. Neither of us had even realized that it was anywhere close to being sunset, but we didn’t care. We wanted to wait until it had fully set, we were both shocked out of the moment by Felix’s phone ringing. It was Chan calling, panicking when he couldn’t find us. It was nice to know that Chan was so accepting of the fact that Felix and I were together now and that he was also happy for us.

When we arrived back at the Virbo, it was pure chaos. Han and Minho were picking on Innie, Chan was just watching it all unfold not really trying to stop it but also prepared to step in if need be. When Felix and I walked in, hand in hand all of the chaos stopped. Half of the guys couldn’t seem to pick their jaws up off the floor while the other half seemed to know that this was inevitable.

“Nice to see that you two are finally together.” Hyunjin comments from his spot on the couch.

“Thanks Hyune.” Felix comment’s as he pulls me into him.

“Took you long enough to confess to her.” Chan jests with Felix, must have known how long Felix liked me.

“I’m glad that he finally did.” I responded.

“Channie Hyung, will you talk to JYP about her joining us on the American leg of the tour?”

“Of course, that would be so much fun to have her join.”

Knowing that Chan was going to talk to JYP and see about getting me to join them on the tour gave me hope, hope that I wouldn’t have to be away from Felix as much as I thought. Knowing that he wanted me with him as well gave me the hope that JYP will say yes. I know with the support of both Felix and the rest of the group, things will be ok because I know that they won’t let anything happen to me.

#stray kids imagines #lee felix x y/n #lee felix x reader #felix fluff #felix imagines #felix x reader #Lee Felix #Stray Kids

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