#anyway i’m sorry for rambling i have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

atlabeth · 21 days ago

Text

(please) spare me indignity

pt 3

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you and spencer spend more time together. it's bad, then it's good, then it's something else altogether.

a/n: continuing the gideon!reader series! a whole lot of this is arguing because they love each other fr. sorry this took so long, for some reason i had a really hard time finding my footing here but i hope you enjoy!! reader is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse bc this may be s1/2 spencer but he is not going to not be standing up for himself!! have this new banner that i made to try and help with my inspiration. title is from nothing new by rio romero

wc: 5k

warning(s): r and spence argue some more. angst, hurt w/o comfort, then hurt with comfort! idk theyre kinda sweet

You and Spencer spend the next six and a half hours watching movies.

You make it through Goodfellas and you only tell him to be quiet twelve times. You take a break to get water and make popcorn, which was so generously provided in your grocery supply, and while you’re doing it, Spencer insists on picking the next one. You end up watching Psycho, and you don’t think he lets a single scene go by without explaining the meaning behind it.

You choose Notting Hill after, and he knows just as much. He picks Halloween—it doesn’t really help your stalker anxieties, and Spencer apologizes profusely when you bring it up, but you still end up finishing it. Next you go for Pointe Grosse Blank, then Spencer picks Kolya, a Russian film that he specifically put into the box.

There are subtitles, but he spends half the time translating for you anyway—apparently there are nuances to the script that an English translation doesn’t get compared to the original Russian, and that would be a tragedy.

He’s in the middle of his third rant going on seven minutes when you finally break.

“Okay,” you say as you reach for the remote, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You do a double take when your hand meets another instead of hard plastic, and you see Spencer beat you to it. You pull your hand away as soon as possible, feeling your face heat from annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” he echoes. “The movie’s not over yet.”

“I can’t take any more of your rambling,” you say. “I’m cutting you off.”

He frowns. “We have to finish the movie first.”

“What are you, a broken record?”

“I couldn’t be a broken record because I said two different things,” he protests. “Besides, what else are you going to do?”

“Unpack my things? Read a book? Sit in silence staring at the wall in my room?” You shrug as you stand up and walk over to the kitchen. “I’ve got a lot of options.”

“Gideon told me not to let you out of my sight,” Spencer says, standing up as well.

“You can see me pretty well from there,” you say. “You don’t have to invade every bit of my privacy.”

“I— I kind of do,” he says. “The whole point of a safe house is to keep you safe. If you’re off doing your own thing, it’s not really safe.”

“It’s not like I’m leaving!” You throw up your hands in exasperation. “What, are you going to sleep with me too? Make sure I don’t go anywhere in the middle of the night?”

It’s almost funny how fast his face flushes bright red. You’ve got a feeling he doesn’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.

“That’s what I thought,” you say. “Keep watching your movie if you want. Just leave me alone.”

You feel his eyes on your back as you storm off to your room. The childish part of you wants to slam the door, but you decide to throw Spencer the smallest bone and leave it open.

It’s not his fault that you hate him, and that just makes you hate him even more. He gets to come out of this the bigger person, a saint for putting up with your various deficiencies while keeping you safe from a stalker. You’re just the difficult, ungrateful, estranged bastard daughter of the most deified man in the Behavioral Analysis Unit who can’t set her personal grudges aside for her own good.

You shove your duffel bag into the bed with a little too much force. You unzip it, deciding to try and occupy yourself with unpacking. You’re here for the indefinite future, so you might as well make yourself at home.

You can’t help the dry laugh that comes at the thought. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt at home anywhere.

This might be the worst thing about this whole situation. You’ve got a stalker out there, and it’s making you do all this bullshit introspection against your will. It’s got you thinking about your dad and your relationship with him, and thinking about Spencer Reid and how he’s replaced you in your father’s life without even really knowing about it because he didn’t know about you until he walked into your dad’s office a month ago.

Ten minutes pass in a blur before you’re knocked out of it by a rapping on your door. You turn to see Spencer standing in the doorway, expression unreadable.

“What?” you ask.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says. “I’m just checking in.”

“I’m still alive,” you say. “Nothing exciting happened in the five seconds I was gone.”

“It was ten minutes and thirty two seconds, actually,” he says. “But— but good.”

Again, more silence passes between you. You look up at him from your pile of clothes after thirty seconds.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“I— I don’t know what else to do,” he stammers.

“Didn’t you say you did something like this before?” you ask. “Guarded some girl from her stalker?”

Spencer nods. “She was a lot easier to get along with.”

You roll your eyes. “Somebody out there wants to kill me to get back at my dad. Sorry that I’m not the pinnacle of happiness.” You make a point to avoid his gaze. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’ve done this all before. You should have some kind of idea of what to do besides bothering me.”

“How am I bothering you?” Spencer asks in exasperation. “I’ve said three sentences to you!”

“Everything you do bothers me, boy genius,” you say. “I thought you would have figured that out by now.”

“I—” He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he just clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head before he walks away.

You stare down at your pile of clothes, largely unfolded and scattered around the bed. The silence doesn’t give you the satisfaction you thought it would.

It only lasts for all of thirty seconds though, and you don’t have time to linger in the discomfort—you hear footsteps, heavier ones this time, and you look up to see Spencer round the corner once again.

“What is your problem with me?” he blurts out.

You frown. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Spencer nods. “You hate your dad, fine— but he’s not here for you to fight with, so you’re taking it out on me. It’s classic displacement, and you don’t get to take it out on me.”

“Why not?” you ask.

“Because it— it’s not fair!” he sputters. “I didn’t do anything to you— I didn’t even know you existed until a month ago!”

“Well, gosh, boy genius,” you say, “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out yourself.”

“Stop calling me boy genius!” he exclaims. “We’re the same age!”

“Then stop acting like one,” you retort. “I know you’ve got a psychology degree, but you don’t need to use them on me whenever you can.”

He frowns, his mouth opening for a second before he closes it.

“Were you going to ask how I knew that before you realized the obvious answer?” you ask.

“No,” he says.

“Yes, you were.” You continue folding your clothes. “You went to Caltech, MIT, and Yale, even though it was your safety school. You’ve got three PhDs, two BAs, and you’re working on a philosophy degree, but you’re not done with it yet.” You shrug. “A little difficult to make it to classes with all the FBI stuff.”

“…Does he really talk about me that much?” Spencer’s voice is quieter than it was before.

“Oh, yeah,” you say. You set a finished pair of jeans to the side then look at him. “I graduated from college too. Granted, it was a couple years ago, not when I was 17, but I think it still warrants a little support.”

“You went to George Mason,” Spencer says.

Your movements stutter. You weren’t expecting him to actually know.

“Yeah,” you say. Your heart skips a beat. “How do you know?”

Has he talked about you to the team before? Sure, they didn’t know you existed before you showed up out of the blue, but maybe he showed them a picture after it happened. Your mom carries one of you in your cap and gown in her wallet—maybe he got a hold of one and Spencer caught a glimpse of that. Maybe you just missed it and he does have a picture of you on his desk. Maybe—

“You have a sweatshirt for it,” he says with a gesture. You look where his finger is pointing, and sure enough, your GMU sweatshirt is tangled up with a couple of other crewnecks.

“…Of course,” you say. You don’t know why you even dared to hope. “Because it’s more likely that you’d notice something like that than it is for my dad to talk about me.”

Spencer says your name, and you hate the sympathy in it.

“No.” You cut him off before he can get any further. “Don’t try to defend him. You know,” you huff a cold, humorless laugh, “he missed my graduation, too. Two separate dates for commencement and my actual school’s ceremony, one 45 minute car ride, and he couldn’t make it to either one.”

“You don’t know how busy we are,” Spencer tries again. “We work weekends and holidays and around the clock— sometimes we get called in at 3am to stay in some random town for weeks at a time, and there’s nothing we can do about it! I— I mean, we’ve had three days off in the past 47 days and—”

“That’s why I have a problem with you!” you cry out, throwing the shirt in your hand onto your bed as you turn to face him. “Because I’m twenty-four years old, and I’ve lived an hour away from my dad for the past six years, but his team that he spends all his time with didn’t even know I existed until I showed up at your office.” You take a step forward, anger resurging inside of you. “Because I threw away a chance at an Ivy to get to see him more, just to deal with the same bullshit as usual. Because I worry about him dying every single day he’s in the field, and he can’t even give me a phone call at the end of it all—” another step forward— “and even in the middle of this shitshow, you think you have a right to defend him— to- to tell me how to feel about him!”

You move even closer, close enough to see his wrinkled button-up is partially untucked, his lips are slightly parted, and his stupid doe eyes—that haven’t left yours—with his stupid dilated pupils, and you jab your finger in his chest.

“Because all I ever wanted is my father’s affection,” your voice breaks, and you hate the way it makes you feel, “and he’d rather build an entirely new life with an entirely new kid than give it to me.”

You push your way past him, making sure to shoulder-check him on your way out. You don’t look back as you forge your way to the bathroom (that you unfortunately have to share), even though his gaze burns into your back.

You close and lock the door. It’s childish, you know, but you need to be alone right now. You can’t stand to be around him.

Spencer just— he irritates you in a way that no one else ever has. He’s your age and more accomplished than you could ever dream to be, with almost six times the degrees and a much better job, and probably a family that loves him. Who wouldn’t love him with everything he’s done?

You, apparently.

You plant your hands on the countertop as you stare into the mirror. Your usual dark circles have become more pronounced over the past month, and you can’t help a wry laugh at the thought. All that trouble sleeping and it was for the wrong damn reason.

If you knew someone was watching you, you would have moved out of Virginia months ago. But maybe this bastard would have found you anyway. If Spencer’s profiling is right and he’s going after you because of your dad, you don’t think much could really dissuade him.

Tears pool at your waterline, and you wipe them away with a rough hand before they can manifest into something more. You slump back against the opposing wall as you continue to stare at yourself.

You’re pathetic and you can’t even find it in yourself to care.

You hear the sound of footsteps once more and you wrap your arms around your midsection. This chill won’t go away.

“…Are you still alive?” a hesitant voice calls.

You bite back a remark. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“No.” You don’t know what makes you answer honestly.

A beat of silence passes. You really do feel like a kid. You’re talking to him through the door because you just yelled at him and Spencer is still being the bigger person.

“Can I help at all?”

This answer comes a little quicker. “No.”

Again, more silence.

“Okay.” Spencer pauses, and the footsteps start again. His voice is a little closer the next time he speaks. “Just… let me know when you’re turning in. So I know you’re still alive.”

You huff. He can’t even stick to his guns and hate you like you hate him for ten minutes. “I don’t think I’ll be dying anytime soon.”

“You never know,” he says. “Spontaneous human combustion might not be proven beyond pseudoscientific concepts, but there’s a first time for everything.”

The laugh that comes out of you is unexpected, both in its lightness and occurrence at all. “Keep an ear out for the smoke alarm, then.”

“If you smell anything burning, stop, drop and roll,” he says. “Make sure you don’t run. All it’ll do is add to the oxygen and feed the fire.”

“Okay,” you say. “…I still don’t like you.”

You swear you can hear the smile in his words. “I know.”

You wake up when the smoke alarm goes off.

It’s a very rude awakening. It jolts you out of your very uneasy sleep to unfamiliar surroundings—in your disoriented state, you almost forget where you are.

Right. You’re in a safe house in the middle of nowhere because someone is stalking you. How could you possibly forget?

You stumble out of bed, rubbing your eyes to try and assuage some of your exhaustion as you leave your room.

“Is the place on fire?” you ask through a yawn.

“No!” Spencer exclaims, sounding more panicked than usual. That straightens your back and speeds your pace. “No, everything’s fine—”

You smell smoke, and as you come around the corner, you see him waving his hands overtop the toaster trying to dispel said smoke. You can’t help but laugh, and you actually smile when he gives you the most helpless look.

“I’m so good at so many other things.”

“What are you trying to do?” you ask wryly. “Burn this house down to try and get a better one?”

“This wouldn’t have started a fire,” Spencer says. “Toaster fires usually spread because they’re below wooden cupboards, which catch easily and spread everywhere else.” He gestures at the toaster, which he has plugged in to an outlet on the side of the island. “No cupboards, no house fire.”

“You started this because you were making toast?” you ask.

He flushes. “I’m used to the toaster I have at home. I have the settings worked out perfectly there. This one is all wrong.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just… hit the reset button, and open the door. It’ll be fine.”

“I can’t open the door,” he says. “It goes against the safety thing.”

“Then open a window.”

“Making it easier to get in here in any way goes against the safety thing,” he says.

“So we have to just deal with the smoke?” you ask in exasperation.

Spencer hits the vent button on the microwave, and the fan whirs into action. “No?”

You shake your head in disbelief as he then reaches up to hit the button on the smoke alarm. His t-shirt lifts with the movement—your eyes drift to the bare strip of skin, and you immediately look away when you realize.

“Where’s the coffee in here?” you ask, clearing your throat as you start sifting through drawers. “I’ll be even worse to deal with if I don’t have caffeine.”

“I already brewed a fresh pot,” Spencer says, gesturing with his head. “Half and half is in the fridge, and sugar is in the cabinet.”

“Oh,” you say. You stop what you’re doing, your hands lingering above the drawer handle. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You see him shrug out of your peripherals. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Because I was a total asshole to you last night, you want to say. Because I’ve been awful to you since I met you and you refuse to fight back and give me a better reason to hate you.

“Because you didn’t need to,” you finally say. Good one.

“I did. So you’re going to have to deal with it.” Spencer takes the burnt toast out and throws them in the trash can, talking while he does it. “You know, it’s actually a rumor that burnt toast contains carcinogens and can increase the chance of cancer. Acrylamide forms when you burn food, but researchers haven’t found a link between starchy foods with high amounts of acrylamide and cancer.”

You hum in some form of acknowledgement as you take a mug out of the cabinet and fill it from the pot. You take a sip and grimace—it’s not the best, but it’s caffeinated. After three years of shitty gas station coffee throughout college, you can deal with it.

“How did you sleep?” Spencer asks.

“Fine,” you say.

He frowns. “Really?”

“Yes,” you say, a little rougher. “The dark circles come with the model.”

“There are a lot of causes other than sleep deprivation,” Spencer says. “Contact dermatitis, hyperpigmentation, dehydration, alcoholism, stress—”

“Got plenty of that,” you interrupt.

“Even genetics can play a part in it,” he says.

You huff. “I think this is one thing I can’t blame my dad for. I haven’t slept since the nineties.”

“Well, you should try,” Spencer says. “The blood vessels around your eyes don’t constrict like they should when you’re sleep deprived, which means your blood vessels dilate, which increases blood in the area, and that gives you dark circles.”

“Wow,” you say wryly. “I really look that bad with them?”

“I— that—” Spencer’s face flushes red as he stutters, and you hide the slightest smile with your mug— “that’s not what I mean! I’m just trying to give advice to help—”

“I know.” You set your mug back down, not able to fully bite back your amusement. “I was joking, Spencer.”

“Oh,” he says. “That’s… new.”

“Am I not allowed to joke?”

“It just doesn’t seem like you,” Spencer says. “Especially after last night.”

“I’m too tired to fight with you right now,” you sigh. “Enjoy your break.”

He clears his throat as he takes two fresh pieces of bread out, then looks at your mug. “You drink it black?”

“It’s not coffee if you don’t,” you say. “It— it’s a sugary mess.”

“It is not!” he exclaims. “It still has the same amount of caffeine, and it’s still coffee—”

“No it isn’t!” you laugh, and you nod at his mug. “How much sugar did you put in there?”

“A couple spoonfuls but—”

“Spoonfuls?”

“But it’s how I like it!” Spencer defends.

“Don’t you have some facts about how harmful excessive sugar consumption is?” you ask.

“Of course I do,” he says. “I also have some about the benefits of black coffee, but I’m not going to tell you now.”

“Wow,” you say. “I’m so hurt.”

He shakes his head as he slots two more pieces of bread into the toaster. “And to think, I was trying to make breakfast for you.”

Again, that gives you pause. Why does he keep trying to do nice things for you?”

“Don’t bother.” You pick up your mug and go into the living room. “I don’t really eat breakfast anyways.”

“That’s not healthy,” he calls after you.

“Most things I do aren’t,” you respond. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“Skipping breakfast puts you at a higher chance of heart disease,” he says.

“Then I guess we won’t have to worry about the spontaneous combustion, will we?” You look back at him. “What’s on the agenda?”

Spencer sighs. He’s given up momentarily, it seems. “Gideon’s going to call me in thirty-two minutes for an update. The whole team has been focusing solely on your case.”

You perk up. The coffee warms your hands through the mug but it doesn’t fully assuage the chill down your spine.

“Do they have any leads?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer says. “Gideon hasn’t called me yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Do you think they have any leads?”

“Maybe.” The toaster pops and he pulls the bread out, then starts buttering it—or trying to. His brow knots in annoyance at the stick of butter, still hard, and he pushes his glasses up with his free hand. You have to look away. “Like I said, Gideon helped start the BAU. He’s solved more cases than anyone else, and,” you feel his eyes on you, “it’s personal this time. He’s probably working around the clock.”

“Just have to hope they get somewhere,” you murmur. Your coffee tastes even more bitter than usual, but you drink it anyway.

“They will,” Spencer says. “I promise.”

“Y’know, people keep making promises they can’t keep,” you say. “I’m getting real tired of it.”

“Well, I’m not leaving your side until they do,” he says. “And I’m going to keep you safe. So consider that promise kept.”

“Great,” you say. “I’m stuck with you until I die or this is solved.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“You don’t have to take everything I say so seriously.”

“Then don’t say everything so seriously.”

You huff a laugh and shake your head. Spencer comes over with his plate of messily buttered toast—not very easy with fully solid sticks of butter—and sits down across from you. He holds the plate out.

“Want one?”

“I told you, I don’t eat breakfast.”

“You should.”

“Because one piece of toast will make so much of a difference,” you mock.

“It will,” he says. “Maybe it’ll even make you happier.”

You roll your eyes and drink more of your coffee. “Are you going to bother me all day like this?”

Spencer took a bite of toast then shrugged. “If you’re this blase about everything relating to your health, then yes.”

You groan as you stand up. “It’s too early to deal with you. See you in a few hours.”

“And good morning to you too,” Spencer says wryly. You make a parting gesture with your hand in response.

It’s been a day and a half, and not only have you argued with him twice, but he still refuses to give you anything to work with, still insists on trying to be there for you. It’s as infuriating as it is gratingly admirable. Anyone else probably would have tried to kill you by now.

Well, you’ve already got a stalker trying to do that.

You sigh and down half your coffee. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.

Spencer doesn’t know why you not liking him bothers him so much.

It’s illogical, but it makes sense for you. Your dad spends more time with him than he does with you, and you’re projecting your hatred for Gideon onto Spencer. Whatever.

But it’s not just whatever, and that irks him.

This is an assignment, simple as that. Gideon trusted him enough to put you under his protection, even if it’s for your mental health more so than your physical. It should be a point of pride, being chosen for something like this by someone like Gideon.

Spencer presses his fingers against his temple. You’re a lot, there’s no way around it. But you also claim to hate him, and he knows that’s not true.

Yes, you argue with him. Yes, you’re short with him. Yes, he lost his temper momentarily because not even Spencer is capable of endless grace.

But he also sees your moments of lightness throughout it all. Your brief smiles, the quips that lean towards jokes more than insults—and he notices your eyes, and the brightness that breaks through on occasion.

He always notices your eyes.

Spencer’s phone rings in his pocket, jolting him out of whatever reverie he found himself in. He pulls it out and flips it open, then presses it to his ear. “Gideon?”

“Reid,” he greets. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he says. “You’re calling twenty-four minutes early.”

“We just finished a briefing,” Gideon says. “I wanted to get word to you as soon as possible.”

Spencer sits up. “What is it?”

“Morgan, Hotch, and Garcia have been working together to comb through my past cases and see what they’re up to now. They finally found a potential unsub,” he says. “Someone I put away a decade ago was released last year, and recent records indicate he’s back in the area.”

“Who is it?” he asks.

“Adam Hernandez. Also known as—”

“The Stafford Strangler,” Spencer finishes. “He killed three people in two weeks in the 90s—classic spree killer. You caught him with David Rossi’s help.”

“Released on good behavior, despite the victims’ families campaigning against it,” Gideon says. “You know it?”

“Obviously,” he says. “I’ve read all of your old case files.”

Gideon chuckles, and he can almost imagine him shaking his head. “Of course you have.”

“Do you think Hernandez is your guy?” Spencer asks.

“I’m not sure yet,” Gideon says. “We applied for a warrant—as soon as we get it, Morgan and Elle are heading his way to ask a few questions.”

“You think he’d do something like this?” Spencer shifts his position as he frowns. “Hernandez got fired, lost his house, then went off the deep end. He killed because he didn’t see any other solution. The guy going after your daughter is a lot more emotional about all this, and—” his throat feels dry all of a sudden— “and it’s like he’s got some kind of attraction to her.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Gideon says roughly. “We’re going for leads where we can, and we’re still working every other angle. It doesn’t end with Hernandez.”

“...Good,” Spencer says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help from here.”

“You’re already doing everything I need you to do.” Gideon pauses, and he hears the creak of the chair in his office as he adjusts how he’s sitting. “How is my daughter doing?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Her mood changes with the wind. One second she’s trying to start a fight with me, the next she’s trying to joke around with me. It— it’s a lot, I won’t lie.”

“But how is she handling all of this?” he asks. “Staying in the safe house, dealing with a stalker, feeling like a sitting duck.”

“Very cynically,” Spencer says. “She keeps talking about dying or getting killed.”

Gideon sighs. “That sounds like her.”

“She’s… she’s mad at you, mostly.” Spencer picks at a hangnail, ignoring the sharp, temporary pain. “Every time I bring you up, it lights a fuse. You’re the one thing she hates to talk about.”

There’s nothing but silence on the other end.

“Gideon?” he asks. “Did I lose—”

“I’m here,” he interrupts. “Just… thinking.”

“It’s not your fault,” Spencer says. “She’s—”

“It is my fault,” Gideon interrupts again. “Has she told you much about her younger life?”

“...Some,” Spencer says.

“Like?”

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t want to just tell Gideon that you’ve told him he’s been an awful dad. That it’s really all you’ve told him.

“You can say it, Reid,” Gideon says. “I won’t get mad.”

“...She says you’ve missed out on her whole life,” Spencer finally says, notably quieter. “Her high school graduation, her college graduation— most of the stuff that happened in college, actually.”

Gideon lets out a rough sigh. “I’ll always regret it.”

“So it’s true?” Spencer asks. He’s surprised at the sharpness of his voice.

“I don’t get to control when cases come in,” he says.

“We’re a whole team of qualified agents,” Spencer says. “We— we always have been. Especially when you and Rossi were together. It was like the golden age of profilers.”

“Spencer—”

“You made it to my graduation!” he interrupts. “You were there for my chemistry PhD, and you said you would be there when I get my philosophy degree, but you couldn’t make it for your only child’s high school and college graduations?”

“I already told you I regret it,” Gideon says. His voice is as calm as ever, and for some reason, that irks Spencer even more. “What more can I say? It’s in the past now. I can’t change what I did.”

Spencer stares at the wall. He doesn’t know why this is such a damning thing to him.

His own dad has missed all of his graduations. He’s missed almost every part of his life. But his dad walked out—he wanted nothing to do with Spencer or his mom.

Your dad is right here. Gideon is still around, working every day to save lives and change the world and take down monsters—but he’s still not there for you.

He’s so close and yet he always steps out of your reach.

“Spencer.” Gideon’s voice is tinny through the speaker, and he presses his phone back against his ear.

“Call me back the second you get another lead,” Spencer mutters.

He hangs up without another word.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #gideon!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #x reader #sadie writes #and yes. reader heard spencer's whole side of the convo<3

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pbaz7 · 5 days ago

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ONE SHOT: IN HER ORBIT

paige x azzk

warnings: drinking, sexual content, cheating

word count: 14.9k

A/N: Alright this combined like a hundred prompts ngl 😭 so i’m so sorry if it’s a little all over the place but I think it’s pretty ok. It’s definitely not as toxic as some of you wanted but it’s still there 🫣. Let me know what you think and leave like reacts if you can! Happy game day!!

—————————————————————————

Azzi hadn’t thought much about how far she and Amber had drifted until recently. They’d been together since her junior year of high school, the perfect couple that everyone envied. Amber was there for every game, every late-night phone call about college recruitment, and every post-game celebratory hug. When they both got into UConn, and Amber told Azzi she was going to go with her, Azzi thought it was a sign—proof that they were meant to keep building their lives together.

But somewhere along the way, things started to change. Amber was preoccupied with her own career goals, diving headfirst into internships, networking events, and her demanding course load. What used to be excitement about Azzi’s basketball career had faded into indifference and a lot of times, criticism.

“You’re stressing too much over practice,” Amber had said a few weeks ago when Azzi mentioned staying late to work on her shot. “It’s just basketball. A literal game. You’re already starting anyway, just come help me study.”

It was little comments like that, each one slicing a bit deeper than the last, that made Azzi feel like Amber didn’t really understand what this meant to her. What this meant for her career. Basketball wasn’t just a sport or a game, it was Azzi’s entire livelihood, her entire future.

That’s when Paige came into the picture.

Azzi didn’t expect to find comfort in Paige—at least not at first. Paige was composed in a way that made her seem untouchable, like she had the entire world figured out. As the face of the team, Paige carried herself with a quiet confidence that made her magnetic, always pulling people into her orbit naturally, whether she was in the locker room, on the court, or just walking across campus. People noticed her and they wanted to be noticed by her.

But Paige wasn’t just a star. She noticed things, little things, like how Azzi’s shooting percentages dipped slightly during stressful weeks or how her shoulders would slump after a particularly bad day. Paige stepped in without making a big show of it, offering help that felt more like a genuine friendship than obligation.

“You good, freshie?” Paige would always ask after practice, tossing a towel over her shoulder as she lingered by Azzi’s side. The question was always casual, but her tone portrayed something genuine—something that told Azzi she didn’t have to be fine if she wasn’t because Paige was genuinely asking about her well being.

It started with extra shooting sessions after practice. Paige would stay behind, helping Azzi find her rhythm again when her mechanics felt off.

“Don’t force it,” Paige would say, gently adjusting Azzi’s elbow. “You’re one of the best shooters in the world. You know the motion. Just let it flow naturally.”

Azzi felt like she could let her guard down around Paige. There was never any judgment, no criticism—just unwavering support. And when practice was over and the rest of the team had left, Paige didn’t rush off either.

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Paige asked one day after they’d spent an hour running through plays together.

Azzi hesitated, but Paige’s smile was disarming. “My treat. Call it payment for all the extra work I’ve been putting you through.”

They ended up at a nearby diner, talking about everything from basketball to their childhood and dreams. Paige was funny and unfiltered in a way that made Azzi laugh harder than she had in her entire life.

…

What started as casual basketball texts here and there quickly turned into long, rambling late-night conversations. Paige had a way of keeping Azzi on her phone for hours, their texts bouncing from lighthearted banter to deeply personal confessions every night.

11:34 PM

Freshie: I swear Geno’s trying to kill me with all these plays. My brain is mush

Paige: Mush isn’t good. Should I start bringing you flashcards?

Freshie: Flashcards? Really?

Paige: I’m trying to be supportive here Azzi. Don’t knock it till you try it

Freshie: Fine. But if I mess up this week, it’s on you

Paige: Deal. But you won’t

12:52 AM

Freshie: Okay, real question this time. Did you always know basketball would be your life?

Paige: I pretty much knew the moment I picked up a ball. Why?

Freshie: I don’t know. Lately, I feel like I’m just losing myself in it. Like… is this all I’m good for? Dribbling an orange ball lol.

Paige: You’re not just “good” for it. You’re great at it. But you know you’re more than that too. You just have too much going on to see it right now.

2:14 AM

Freshie: Do you ever feel like you’re failing at everything outside of basketball?

Paige: Lol every day.

Freshie: How do you deal with it?

Paige: I remind myself why I started. And then I text you and distract myself with your constant overthinking or rambling

Freshie: So I’m a distraction now?

Paige: Yeah, but a cute one so it’s ok

Azzi stared at the text longer than she should have, biting her lip before replying. Whenever Paige flirted it was always subtle, just enough to make Azzi’s heart pick up, but not so much that she couldn’t dismiss them as harmless jokes.

By the time Azzi finally fell asleep, her phone still clutched in her hand, Paige’s words about basketball echoing in her mind.

…

The first time Azzi showed up at Paige’s dorm late at night, it wasn’t planned. She and Amber had just had one of their worst arguments yet—Amber accusing Azzi of putting a “stupid game” above their relationship, and Azzi firing back that Amber didn’t even try to understand what she was going through before it ended in a shouting match and Azzi leaving her own room.

Paige opened the door in sweats and a hoodie, her hair still wet from the shower she just took.

“You okay?” Paige asked, stepping aside to let her in.

Azzi nodded, even though her red-rimmed eyes told a different story. She dropped onto Paige’s bed without waiting for an invitation, staring at the ceiling.

Paige didn’t press much. Just handed Azzi a bottle of water and laid beside her, their shoulders almost touching.

“Girl troubles?” Paige finally asked.

Azzi sighed, covering her face with her hands. “She just… doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get me anymore. It’s tiring”

Paige hesitated, then looked over at Azzi saying. “For what it’s worth, I get you. And there’s these ten other girls known as our teammates that get you. So I promise you’re not as alone as you think.”

The words hung in the air for some time, heavy with something Azzi couldn’t name but felt deep in her chest as she laid there with Paige.

After some time passed, Paige, wanting to cheer Azzi up, let out a dramatic grumble as she sat up. “Alright, fine. We can watch Frozen,” she said.

Azzi laughed instantly as she grabbed a nearby pillow and tossed it at Paige.

Paige caught the pillow midair with ease, narrowing her eyes playfully as she held it up. “Don’t be rude,” she deadpanned, throwing the pillow back on the bed before turning toward the dresser for the remote.

When she turned back around, she caught Azzi pouting, her bottom lip jutting out dramatically. Paige froze for a second before shaking her head, chuckling softly. “You’re annoying,” she muttered, though the fondness in her voice betrayed her words.

Azzi’s pout turned into a grin as Paige climbed back into bed, remote in hand. Their shoulders brushed as Paige settled beside her, pretending to scroll through the streaming options with exaggerated effort. “Happy now?” Paige asked.

“Very,” Azzi said, leaning slightly into Paige’s side, her smile lingering as she watched Paige pretend to grumble under her breath.

…

This became a pattern. The more drifted from Amber, the more they argued and Amber hurled insults at Azzi. The closer she found herself to Paige. They started spending more time together outside of practice whenever they could. Paige would go to Azzi’s room to watch movies, always teasing her about her terrible taste in romcoms. Azzi would show up at Paige’s room whenever she wanted, sinking into Paige’s beanbag chair as they talked endlessly.

There was a lightness to being with Paige that Azzi hadn’t felt in a long time. Amber always seemed to expect something from her—more time, more effort, more of herself. But Paige just… let her be.

…

For Paige, the shift came suddenly and without warning. She didn’t realize how deep her feelings ran until one night when Azzi showed up at her door after another fight with Amber.

Azzi’s eyes were puffy, her hair a mess, but Paige thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

“What happened?” Paige asked, ushering her in.

Azzi shook her head, collapsing onto the bed. “It’s the same thing. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get me.”

Paige sat beside her, not saying anything at first. She just listened as Azzi vented, her words tumbling out in frustration.

“You’re amazing, Azzi,” Paige said softly when she finished. “If Amber can’t see that… it’s her loss.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Paige could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the air between them heavy with something unspoken.

That night, as Azzi curled up in Paige’s bed and drifted off to sleep, Paige lay awake, staring at the ceiling and grappling with the truth: she was in love with Azzi.

…

For Azzi, the realization crept in slowly but hit her all at once. It wasn’t until she caught Paige looking at her during practice—really looking at her, with those dark, intent eyes—that she felt it.

Paige wanted her.

And the moment Azzi’s brain registered that, she couldn’t stop herself from wanting Paige too. It wasn’t just the way Paige made her feel seen, or the way her presence steadied Azzi in a way Amber never could. It was everything about her—the quiet strength, the soft encouragement, the way her lips curled into a knowing smile whenever Azzi said something sarcastic.

But she was still with Amber.

The guilt gnawed at her, but it didn’t stop her from staying up late to text Paige, or from seeking her out after practice, or from craving the way Paige made her feel. It was wrong, and messy, and complicated, but Azzi couldn’t help herself.

And the more Paige let her feelings slip—through lingering touches, teasing words, and the way her eyes softened whenever they were alone—the harder it was for Azzi to pull away.

The First Slip Up

It was supposed to be a fun, carefree night—a random house party off campus that some of the team decided to attend. Azzi hadn’t been in the mood to go, not really, but Amber insisted. She liked these kinds of things, the big crowds, the chance to “network” with people Azzi didn’t care to meet. And maybe Azzi would’ve said no, but Amber had a way of making her feel guilty for turning things down.

“Bruh come on, Azzi,” Amber said with a heavy sigh as they were getting ready. “You literally never wanna do anything I wanna do. You can’t just be about basketball all the time.”

So Azzi went, pulling on a long-sleeve shirt she hoped would keep her warm in the brisk Connecticut air as Amber rushed her out of the door.

By the time they approached the house, the coldness of the evening had already sunk into her bones. Azzi hugged her arms tightly against herself, glancing sideways at Amber who had on two sweaters.

“I’m freezing,” Azzi said, hoping Amber might offer a solution.

Amber glanced at her briefly, shrugging. “You should’ve brought a jacket.” Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t warm either. It was dismissive, like the problem was Azzi’s and not something Amber needed to worry about.

Azzi’s stomach twisted, but she didn’t push the issue, not wanting to argue anymore tonight. They stepped inside and the music was loud and the air was warmer than outside. Before Azzi could say anything, Amber spotted a group of girls she knew and disappeared into the crowd without so much as a glance.

Azzi exhaled and scanned the room looking for the team knowing at least one of them would stand out.

When she spotted Paige near the kitchen, surrounded by a few of their teammates, something in her chest loosened. Paige stood out in any room she was in, tall and composed, carrying herself with a natural ease that made people gravitate toward her. When Azzi made her way over, Paige looked up immediately, her eyes lighting up in a way that made Azzi feel like the only person in the room.

“Heyy, there’s the freshie,” Paige teased, her smile widening as Azzi came closer. But then her expression changed, her brows knitting together as she tilted her head. “You cold?”

Azzi blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’re shivering like crazy,” Paige said simply.

“No, I’ll be fine soon,” Azzi protested quickly, though her body betrayed her as another shiver ran through her.

Paige didn’t argue. She just pulled off her jacket—a soft, worn-in zip up that smelled like her soap and shampoo—and handed it to Azzi.

“Here,” Paige said, holding it out.

“Paige, you don’t have to—”

“Azzi,” Paige interrupted, “just take it.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment before reluctantly slipping it on. It was warm, the sleeves long enough to cover her hands that were still freezing, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Paige grinned, satisfied.

But even with the jacket, the chill didn’t seem to fully leave Azzi’s body yet. Paige must’ve noticed, because before Azzi could protest, Paige stepped closer, wrapping her arms around her.

The hug was casual enough on the surface—just a friend warming up another friend—but it felt like more. Paige’s hands rubbed slow circles on Azzi’s back and Azzi felt herself relax against her. Her head tipped slightly, resting on Paige’s shoulder, and for a moment, the noise and chaos of the party faded into the background.

“You’re freezing. You need to put on a jacket next time,” Paige murmured, her breath warm against Azzi’s hair.

“Amber was rushing me so I couldn’t,” Azzi said quietly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Paige stiffened slightly but didn’t say anything. Her hands kept moving, rubbing against Azzi’s back to warm her up, and after a moment, she spoke.

“Well,” Paige said, her voice soft but edged with something Azzi couldn’t quite place, “you have mine now so you’ll be fine.”

Azzi pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Paige, and the way Paige was looking at her—it made Azzi’s breath catch. There was something unspoken in Paige’s gaze, something Azzi wasn’t sure she was ready to name.

“Thank you,” Azzi whispered

Paige smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course.”

The moment passed quickly—someone yelling Paige’s name from across the room, and she stepped away, though not before giving Azzi’s arm a quick squeeze and saying “I’ll find you later.”

Azzi wasn’t much of a drinker. She didn’t like how it dulled her mind or left her body sluggish, but tonight, after Amber’s repeated dismissals and her own growing frustration, she’d let herself indulge a little. Just enough to take the edge off.

Amber hadn’t noticed.

Azzi sighed again, watching as Amber laughed with a group of girls across the room. She had tried to hang around her girlfriend, to ease the tension that had settled between them for a while. Slipping her hand into Amber’s or leaning close during the conversation. But each time, Amber had pulled away or brushed her off.

“Azzi, not right now,” Amber said at one point with an edge of annoyance in her voice. “I’m trying to talk to them. You’re clingy when you’re drunk.”

The words stung more than Azzi cared to admit, and she found herself retreating, stepping back as Amber turned her attention fully to her friends.

She sighed again, deciding to walk away. But the house was packed, bodies pressed together in every corner, and Azzi quickly found herself a little stuck, barely able to navigate through the crowded room.

That’s when she felt a steady, warm hand resting lightly on her back.

“You good?” Paige’s familiar voice cut through the loud noise.

Azzi turned her head slightly, relief flooding through her as she saw Paige beside her. She nodded, not trusting her voice in the moment.

“Come on,” Paige said simply. As she guided Azzi with ease, her hand never left Azzi’s back as they weaved through the chaos. Paige moved like she was born to lead, her presence cutting through the crowd effortlessly, and Azzi found herself leaning into it, letting Paige take control.

When they finally emerged into a quieter corner of the house, Paige spotted an open spot on the couch and steered them toward it. They sank into the cushions together, and Azzi felt her shoulders relax for the first time all night.

“You good?” Paige asked again, her eyes scanning Azzi’s face.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for... that. It was getting a little overwhelming in there.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” Paige said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You looked like you were about to elbow somebody out of the way.”

Azzi laughed softly. “I was definitely close,” she admitted.

They settled into their usual rhythm easily, the conversation flowing like it always did. They talked about everything and nothing. Azzi found herself laughing more than she had all night, the tension in her chest easing with every word. Paige had a way of making her forget everything else going on in her head, of making her feel seen in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

At one point, someone came over to talk to Paige, pulling her attention away for a moment. Azzi instinctively shifted, as she was about to get up to give Paige space and go talk to the rest of the team, but Paige’s arm shot out, draping casually over the back of the couch, her hand resting near Azzi’s shoulder.

“Stay,” Paige said, glancing at her. The word wasn’t a command, but it held weight, a quiet reassurance that Paige didn’t want her to go anywhere.

Azzi froze for a moment, the warmth of Paige’s arm so close making her chest tighten. She nodded, staying right where she was, even as Paige turned to answer the person who’d approached.

When the conversation ended, Paige turned back to Azzi, a small grin on her face. “You need anything? Water? Soda? Something stronger?”

Azzi hesitated for a second before shrugging. “Water’s fine,” she said, grateful Paige even thought to ask.

“I’ll be right back,” Paige said, standing and weaving her way through the room towards the kitchen.

Azzi watched her go, the space beside her feeling oddly empty without Paige there. She fiddled with the hem of Paige’s sweater, her mind wandering back to Amber—wherever she was in this house—and the sharp contrast between her and Paige.

When Paige came back, she handed Azzi a bottle of water before settling back on the couch, her body angled slightly toward Azzi.

“Thanks,” Azzi said, cracking the bottle open and taking a sip.

“No problem.” Paige studied her for a moment before tilting her head slightly. “You look like you’re over this party.”

Azzi chuckled softly, leaning back into the couch. “It’s not really my scene honestly,” she admitted. “Too loud. Too crowded. I don’t know half the people here, and the one person I came with...” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Paige frowned slightly but didn’t press her for more. Instead, she just sat there as she thought for a moment. Then, as if deciding something, she turned back to Azzi and reached out her hand.

“Come on,” Paige said.

Azzi blinked, looking down at Paige’s outstretched hand. “What?”

“Let’s go,” Paige said simply, her fingers wiggling slightly as if to prompt Azzi to take her hand.

Azzi hesitated for a moment longer before setting the water bottle down on the floor and slipping her hand into Paige’s. Paige’s fingers interlaced with hers immediately, her grip warm as she tugged Azzi up from the couch.

“Where are we going?” Azzi asked.

Paige glanced at her with a small smile, her hand still holding Azzi’s tightly. “Somewhere better,” she said.

Azzi followed her without question, though her mind buzzed with curiosity. Paige led her through the crowded house, their intertwined hands drawing a few curious glances but nothing that lingered for two long. They climbed a narrow staircase, Azzi stumbling slightly on the last step, but Paige steadied her with a soft laugh, her hand tightening around Azzi’s.

When they reached the top, Paige guided her down a hallway and pushed open a door. Azzi blinked in surprise as the cool night air hit her face. They were on a small outdoor balcony, completely empty and tucked away from the noise and chaos of the party below. String lights hung lazily along the edge of the railing, casting a warm glow over the space.

Azzi let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The air was crisp but refreshing, and she was still warm from the drinks and the faint buzz of Paige’s presence. Paige’s jacket hung loosely around her shoulders, and though the cold nipped at her face, she didn’t mind.

Paige let go of her hand but didn’t step far, turning to lean her back against the railing and taking in the view. “Better, right?” she asked softly, her voice almost swallowed by the hum of the party below.

Azzi nodded, moving to the railing and resting her forearms on it. “Yeah. Way better,” she murmured, looking out at the dark yard below. She felt Paige’s eyes on her but didn’t turn, letting the comfortable silence settle between them for a moment.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Paige said after a beat.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You noticed?”

Paige scoffed softly, shifting to face her fully. “Of course I noticed, I’m me. Plus you’re not exactly the type to fade into the background but it feels like you kinda just been drifting tonight. Not as confident as usual.”

Azzi chuckled, her fingers playing with the hem of the jacket. “I don’t know. I guess... this just isn’t my scene,” she admitted. “I came because Amber wanted to….” She trailed off, shrugging slightly.

Paige’s gaze hardened a little, her jaw tightening at the mention of Amber, but she pushed the feeling aside. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here,” Paige said.

Azzi finally turned to look at her, her eyes searching Paige’s face. There was something about the way Paige was looking at her—intense but soft, like she was seeing every piece of her. It made Azzi’s stomach flip in a way she wasn’t ready to unpack.

“You are?” Azzi asked, her voice quiet but tinged with curiosity.

“Yeah,” Paige said, stepping closer now. Her voice dropped slightly.. “You’re the only one worth talking to here.”

Azzi’s heart stuttered in her chest, and she swallowed hard, glancing away briefly to compose herself. When she looked back, Paige had moved closer, so close that Azzi could feel the faint warmth radiating from her despite the cool night air.

Azzi leaned back against the railing, her hands gripping the edge lightly as she tilted her head to look at Paige. “You’re really sweet, you know that?” she teased, her tone light but her eyes giving away something deeper.

Paige arched a brow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Me? Sweet? Who would’ve guessed.”

Azzi smiled, her confidence sparking to life in the safety of their banter. “You make everything seem so effortless,” she said, her voice dipping slightly.

Paige let out a soft laugh, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s. “I could say the same about you,” she murmured, her tone quieter now..

The space between them felt incredibly small, and Azzi wasn’t sure if it was the drinks or the way Paige was looking at her, but she felt a pull, an ache between her legs that was as exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

Paige leaned in slightly, her hands coming to rest on the railing on both sides of Azzi, effectively boxing her in. She wasn’t touching her, not quite, but the proximity sent a shiver through Azzi’s body.

“You warm enough?” Paige asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi nodded, her breath catching slightly. “Yeah. Your jacket’s helping,” she said, her fingers brushing the fabric lightly.

Paige’s eyes flicked down to the movement, then back up to Azzi’s face. “Good,” she said, her voice a little rougher now, her gaze holding Azzi’s.

For a moment, the noise of the party below faded completely, and it was just them, the night air, and the soft glow of the lights. Azzi felt her resolve slipping, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t fully control.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her face inches from Azzi’s now. “You’ve got that look again,” Paige said softly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“What look?” Azzi asked, her voice barely audible.

“The one that says you’re overthinking,” Paige teased.

Azzi let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head slightly. “Maybe I am,” she admitted.

Paige’s smile softened, and she reached up, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from Azzi’s face. “Don’t,” she said simply.

Azzi didn’t know how to respond or how to react, so she didn’t. She just held Paige’s gaze, the space between them filled with an unspoken tension. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the soft hum of the night enveloping them.

Finally, Azzi broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

Paige’s brow furrowed slightly, and she smiled softly. “For what?”

Azzi hesitated for a second, her eyes flickering down to the jacket she was still wearing, then back to Paige’s face. “For everything,” she said simply, her tone almost vulnerable.

Paige’s expression softened even further, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Don’t mention it.”

She raised her red cup to her lips, intending to finish off the rest of the drink, but before she could finish it completely, Azzi tilted her head slightly, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Can I have some?”

Paige blinked, then grinned, holding the cup out toward her. “You can kill the rest,” she said casually, her fingers brushing Azzi’s as she handed it over.

Azzi took the cup, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as she tipped it back, finishing the drink in a few quick swallows. The warmth from the alcohol spread through her chest, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as the warmth radiating from Paige, who stood just inches away. Azzi set the empty cup down on the railing behind her.

Azzi set the empty cup down on the railing, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface before she turned back to face Paige. She hadn’t realized how close Paige had gotten, her arms still braced on either side of the railing.

“You look good in my jacket,” Paige said, the compliment coming out smoothly. Her eyes scanned Azzi, lingering for just a second longer than they probably should have as she took her in.

Azzi felt a blush creep up her neck, but she masked it with a soft laugh. “Yeah? Guess I’m doing you a favor, making it look better.”

Paige smirked, her hand sliding casually to rest on Azzi’s hip, her touch light but deliberate. “Exactly,” she murmured, tilting her head as her gaze locked on Azzi’s. “You make it look better.”

Azzi’s breath caught for a moment, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the warmth of Paige’s hand on her or the way Paige was looking at her, like she was undressing her with her eyes. “You’re bold tonight,” she managed, her voice softer than she intended.

Paige’s smirk deepened, her thumb brushing over the fabric of the jacket. “Just telling the truth,” she said. “You look... really pretty tonight, Az.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Paige’s tone. It wasn’t the first time someone had called her pretty, but the way Paige said it made her feel different. “You’ve had a few drinks,” Azzi said lightly, trying to deflect.

Paige leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it gorgeous.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. She should’ve stepped back, should’ve said something to lighten the moment, but instead, she stayed rooted to the spot, her body betraying her. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige chuckled softly, her hand still resting on Azzi’s hip as her gaze flickered down to Azzi’s lips for the briefest of moments before returning to her eyes. “Only if you want me to be,” she replied.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, shaking her head slightly. “You’re too good for that,” she said softly.

Paige leaned in just a little closer, her voice barely a whisper as she teased, “What do you mean?”

Azzi exhaled a quiet laugh, trying to brush it off, but the moment felt too heavy to laugh it off. “You’re a good person Paige,” Azzi said, her voice softening at the admission.

Paige smiled, a slow, satisfied grin pulling at her lips. “I am,” she said, a hint of pride in her tone.

Azzi didn’t respond immediately, her heart beating just a little faster as she glanced at Paige, the warmth from their closeness making her skin tingle. “So you’re not going to let me cheat tonight,” Azzi murmured, a little unsure why the words slipped out.

Paige didn’t pull away, though. Her hand remained on Azzi’s hip, her body still close enough that Azzi could feel the heat radiating between them. She just looked at Azzi for a beat too long, her eyes locked onto hers, saying nothing.

For a second, everything hung in the balance. Azzi felt herself holding her breath, her body unsure of what to do next. But before she could make up her mind, a voice interrupted the moment.

“Ahem.”

The sound was unmistakable—clear, direct, and too familiar. Azzi’s stomach dropped as she turned her head slightly, glancing over Paige’s shoulder.

Amber stood a few feet away, her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed over her chest. The discomfort was clear, but at that moment, Azzi didn’t jerk away. She didn’t pull back.

Instead, she stayed rooted to the spot, holding Paige’s gaze. For a heartbeat, she let herself savor the closeness, the pull of something real between her and Paige. Then, she finally glanced back at Amber—seeing the look on her face—and it hit Azzi with a quiet, unsettling clarity.

This was probably when Azzi should’ve ended things with Amber. The realization hit her harder than she expected, but it didn’t feel like a mistake—it felt like the truth.

Azzi didn’t break the moment quickly, though. Instead, she smiled softly at Paige, a small, genuine smile that conveyed more than words ever could. Paige’s expression softened in response, her eyes warm with something almost like understanding, even though she said nothing.

Azzi pushed gently against Paige’s waist, a quiet movement that separated them just enough to give her space to breathe. “I should go,” Azzi said, her voice soft but steady, as she stepped away from the railing.

Paige smiled at her, a gentle, almost wistful curve of her lips. “Get home safe, Azzi,” she said, her voice carrying an underlying warmth.

Azzi returned the smile. “I’ll text you,” she murmured, before turning toward the hallway. She couldn’t quite look back, not with that lingering tension between them.

As Azzi made her way down the stairs, she noticed Amber already ahead of her, walking with purpose, the distance between them increasing by the second. Azzi’s steps purposely slowed, her mind still racing with everything that had just happened—what she had almost let happen.

When they finally stepped outside, the crisp night air hit her, making her pull Paige’s jacket closer around herself. Amber, who had been silent up until now, suddenly stopped walking and turned sharply to face Azzi, her jaw set.

“What the hell was that?” Amber’s voice was low but heated, frustration clear in every word.

Azzi blinked at her, not breaking her stride as she pulled the zipper on the jacket higher, securing it snugly against the cold. “Nothing,” she said flatly, keeping her tone calm.

Amber’s eyes flicked down to the jacket, her brow furrowing as if noticing it for the first time. “Whose jacket is that?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi replied, her eyes focused ahead as she kept walking.

“It does matter,” Amber shot back, quickening her steps to keep up with her. “You’ve got some random person’s jacket on like it’s normal or something.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath, the sound humorless. She finally glanced at Amber, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s literally a jacket, Amber. You’re being childish.”

Amber stopped in her tracks, her hands balling into fists at her sides as she stared after Azzi. “Childish?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. “You’re walking around in someone else’s clothes, and I’m supposed to just ignore that?!”

Azzi sighed, exasperated, as she turned around to face her. “It’s really not that deep. I was cold and you wouldn’t give me yours so…”

Amber’s face twisted in disbelief, her frustration clear, but Azzi didn’t wait for her to say anything else. She turned back around, her hands burying themselves in the jacket’s pockets, and started walking toward the dorms again, leaving Amber standing there in silence.

The Second Slip Up

The night at Ted’s was supposed to be a break—a chance for everyone to unwind after a long stretch of games and practice. The team had been looking forward to it all week, and Azzi, too, had been excited to just let loose for a while. But everything had been sour before she even left. Her argument with Amber had been heated—one that nearly turned into a screaming match—but it was the same pattern as always. Amber had wanted Azzi to drop everything and come to the DMV for a week, something about an interview, but Azzi told her she couldn’t just throw her responsibilities aside. She had two games, practices, and meetings. Amber didn’t understand, once again insulting Azzi and it led to another fight.

Still, despite the tension, Azzi wanted to go out. Amber, always aggressive when she didn’t get her way, was all over Azzi the moment they walked into Ted’s even though Azzi wasn’t interested. She tried to pull Azzi into a dance, dragging her by the hand, her lips kissing at Azzi’s neck, whispering promises Azzi wasn’t sure she could still believe in.

Paige, on the other hand, was across the room, surrounded by a few of the girls from the team, laughing and “dancing” with a random girl who was at the bar. Azzi tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest when her eyes found Paige's across the crowded room. She couldn’t help herself—there was something magnetic about her, something that called to Azzi even from a distance.

The moment they locked eyes, Azzi felt everything inside her still. Amber’s hand was on her waist, pulling her into the chaotic rhythm of the music, but Azzi wasn’t moving, she couldn’t focus on anything except the way Paige was looking at her. Her usually bright blue eyes were darker than usual, her gaze intense as she sipped her drink, not blinking, as if she were daring Azzi to look away first. And for a moment, Azzi forgot how to breathe.

The world seemed to slow down. Amber was still murmuring into Azzi's ear, but Azzi couldn’t hear her. Her words were drowned out by the music and the rapid beat of her heart. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Paige. It felt like a secret shared between them, even though they hadn’t said a word.

Paige’s gaze never wavered, and Azzi could feel everything between them, like the entire room had been reduced to just the two of them. Amber, oblivious to the tension building, continued to cling to Azzi, her whispers falling on deaf ears. Azzi barely even registered what Amber was saying.

Azzi’s chest tightened as the girl dancing on Paige didn’t back off. Instead, she leaned in closer, her body grinding against Paige's as she ran her acrylics slowly down Paige's jaw, tracing the curve of her face and lips. Azzi watched the movement, her stomach twisting as Paige barely reacted. Her eyes were locked on Azzi, unmoving, unblinking, as if nothing else in the room mattered, not even the girl trying to press herself closer to Paige.

Azzi could feel the heat creeping up her neck, the possessiveness bubbling inside her, even though she had no right to feel it. Amber's hand was still on Azzi's waist, trying to pull her into the rhythm of the music, but Azzi couldn’t bring herself to care. Not while Paige’s gaze was still locked on her.

The girl on Paige’s body kept dancing, but Paige’s focus was unwavering. Paige smirked slightly as the girl's hands ran over her neck, as if she knew Azzi wouldn’t like it. Still, her eyes never leave Azzi’s.

It was like a silent challenge, a dare to Azzi to make a move, to step in and claim what could be hers, but Azzi was frozen. She was stuck, caught between the familiarity of Amber and the pull she felt toward Paige, the way Paige's eyes seemed to tug at her heart in ways she couldn’t explain.

Amber, noticing Azzi's lingering stare, tugged her closer, leaning into her ear. “Babyyy, you’re not even paying attention,” she said, but Azzi still barely heard her. All she could focus on was the way Paige’s gaze had deepened, how there was something raw and magnetic about the way she looked at her.

As Paige slowly took another sip from her drink, Azzi noticed how the girl's hand slid down Paige's side to her hips, and for a brief moment, Azzi wanted to rip her hand off. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She was still stuck in Amber’s grip, still trying to hold onto something that was slipping through her fingers.

"Who are you looking at like that?" Amber's voice cut through the haze, and Azzi blinked, tearing her eyes away from Paige to look at Amber, but the heat between her and Paige still lingered, like a flame Azzi couldn’t put out.

…

Azzi hadn’t planned on doing anything that night. She was determined to be respectful, to keep her distance from Paige and stay respectful to her relationship, like she always had. She’d made up her mind to stay out of the way, to avoid any of the tension that had been building between her and Paige. She thought if she could just make it through tonight without any issues, everything would be fine. But then after a few drinks Amber had to go and make everything complicated.

Amber wasn’t just rude that night. She was worse—she was dismissive, condescending, and cruel in a way Azzi hadn’t seen in a long time. It was though all the frustrations Amber had been bottling up for weeks finally exploded, and Azzi was the target. Amber fully snapped at Azzi when she pushed her off gently and tried to suggest they grab a drink instead of dancing. She accused Azzi of ignoring her all night, accused her of being self-absorbed, accusing her of not wasting her time playing a game rather than trying to better their relationship and so much more.. Each comment felt like a jab, cutting deeper than the last.

Azzi tried to brush it off at first, telling herself it was just the alcohol or a bad mood, but it didn’t stop. Amber’s insults, her passive-aggressive remarks, and the way she treated Azzi like she was nothing more than an accessory to her life—it all piled up.

The quiet argument had escalated quickly, spiraling out of control before Azzi even had a chance to process it. “Call me when you’re done being so fucking self-centered,” Amber spat. She didn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and storming out of Ted’s.

Azzi stood there for a moment, watching the door swing shut behind Amber. A sigh left her lips, but she didn’t let herself dwell on it, she honestly didn’t feel bad about it. The tension in her chest loosened as she turned back to the team, who, like her, were already a few drinks in, their mood carefree and light. It was easy to slip back into their energy, letting the music and laughter fill the space Amber had left.

The drinks flowed freely, and with each one, Azzi felt herself relax more. She didn’t have to force anything; the team’s energy was infectious, and before long, she found herself genuinely enjoying everything. Paige was initially on the other side of the room, laughing with Evina and Olivia, but like a magnet, they naturally drifted toward each other. Neither of them said anything as their proximity closed; it was unspoken, almost instinctual, like gravity pulling them together.

Paige didn’t even realize how close she had gotten until Azzi reached out, her hand finding Paige’s wrist and gently tugging her closer. The tug wasn’t rushed or eager—it was simple and confident, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Paige felt her pulse quicken, but she didn’t hesitate. She let herself fall into the moment, her hands sliding around Azzi’s waist as the music guided them.

They started swaying to the beat, bodies pressed together as neither one of them said anything. Paige’s arms tightened slightly around Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer. Their movements grew more fluid as Azzi wrapped her arm around Paige’s shoulder, her hands coming together to rest on her head. Neither spoke a word, but their silence was filled with a quiet understanding, the tension between them growing.

Azzi’s eyes flicked to Paige’s lips, and Paige caught the movement, making her instinctually lick them. The air between them continues to grow heavier, their gazes dancing between each other’s lips and eyes, silently asking questions neither of them said out loud.

Azzi, trying her best to keep her composure, let her head dip down, resting lightly on Paige’s shoulder. Her breath fanning across Paige’s neck, the simple warmth of it making Paige clench her jaw. Azzi’s lips hovered tantalizingly close to Paige’s skin, not quite touching but close enough that Paige could feel the ghost of them. Paige’s fingers tightened slightly on Azzi’s waist, her own breaths shallow as she tried to steady herself.

Their dancing grew needier, the space between them nonexistent. It wasn’t just the physical closeness; it was the way they seemed to be silently communicating through every glance, every brush of skin. Paige closed her eyes for a brief moment, soaking in the sensation, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Azzi could hear it.

Without warning, Azzi crossed the line between hovering and touching.

Her lips ghosted over Paige’s neck, softly. It wasn’t aggressive or rushed—just featherlight kisses that sent sparks racing through Paige’s veins. Paige sighed audibly, her jaw tightening as she fought to keep her composure. Her fingers dug into Azzi’s hips reflexively, grounding herself so she didn’t lose it entirely in the middle of the bar.

Azzi noticed the way Paige’s body tensed under her touch, and it only fueled her. As she let her lips linger a moment longer, the pressure slightly firmer now in a few spots, before pulling back just enough to murmur into Paige’s ear.

“Meet me in the bathroom.”

Paige’s eyes opened, her grip on Azzi’s waist faltering as her heart raced. Before she could respond, Azzi was already stepping back, her touch slipping away like sand through Paige’s fingers.

Azzi didn’t look back as she walked toward the bathroom. Paige stood there for a moment, frozen, the ghost of Azzi’s touch and the warmth of her lips still lingering on her skin.

The music continued around her, the chatter and laughter of the team and other patrons filling the space, but it all felt distant now. Paige’s focus was entirely on the retreating figure of Azzi, her heart pounding as she weighed her next move.

Her lips curved into a subtle, almost involuntary smirk as she exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. There was no real decision to make—her body had already made it for her. With one last glance around the bar, Paige slipped through the crowd, following the same path Azzi had taken moments earlier.

When Paige stepped into the dimly lit bathroom, her gaze locked onto Azzi, who was leaning casually against the sink. Azzi’s eyes flicked up to meet Paige’s, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

Paige didn’t say a word as she turned and locked the door behind her with a click, the sound echoing in the space. Her hand lingered on the lock for a second longer than necessary, steadying herself as she exhaled, before slowly facing Azzi again.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them thick. Azzi’s smirk faltered slightly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she studied Paige’s expression. It wasn’t playful or hesitant—Paige’s eyes burned with something Azzi couldn’t place, her chest rising and falling as though she was barely holding herself back.

The silence was broken when Azzi took two quick steps forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. Without warning, her hands gripped the front of Paige’s shirt, pushing her back until Paige’s shoulders hit the cool wall with a thud. Azzi’s lips were on hers immediately, the kiss urgent and messy, tongues battling one another as they fought for control.

Paige’s hands instinctively went to Azzi’s waist, her fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt as she pulled her even closer. Azzi pressed against her fully, her grip tightening on Paige’s shirt, but it was clear neither one of them was willing to give up control.

Then, in a quick movement that left Azzi momentarily stunned, Paige flipped their positions, slamming Azzi’s back against the wall with a force that made her gasp. Azzi’s head tilted back slightly from the impact, her lips parting in surprise, but her body instantly responded to the dominance radiating from Paige.

The heat coursed through Azzi, her breath hitching as she met Paige’s gaze. No one had ever handled her like this before—there was a certainty, a confidence in Paige’s actions that excited Azzi.

Paige didn’t give her much time to process, her lips crashing back onto Azzi’s with the same fervor as before. Her hands slid down Azzi’s sides, gripping her hips firmly as she pressed her body against Azzi’s, pinning her to the wall. Azzi let out a soft moan against Paige’s lips, her own hands tangling in Paige’s hair as she pulled her even closer, the world outside that bathroom disappearing entirely.

The two of them stayed locked in that rhythm, bodies pressed impossibly close, lips and hands moving with an urgency that neither seemed able—or willing—to control. Paige’s grip on Azzi’s hips remained firm, holding her in place every time Azzi tried to shift, a silent but undeniable reflection of her dominance.

As their kisses deepened, Paige’s lips began trailing down Azzi’s jaw. She kissed and sucked softly along the curve, her movements careful not to leave any marks. Azzi’s head tilted instinctively, giving Paige better access even as her mind began to catch up to her body.

The thought of Paige leaving marks on her skin—of something so visible, so undeniably real—triggered a sudden flicker of realization. Azzi’s heart pounded in her chest, her breathing shallow as she tried to fight the pull of Paige’s lips, her touch, her everything.

“Paige…” Azzi’s voice came out barely above a whisper, shaky and uncertain, her resolve faltering even as the word left her lips. Paige didn’t seem to hear her—or maybe she did and thought Azzi was whispering her name for other reasons—because she continued, her lips sucking against the sensitive spot just below Azzi’s ear, drawing a sharp inhale from her.

Azzi squeezed her eyes shut, pulling every ounce of willpower she could muster. This time, she took a deep, steadying breath and whispered more firmly, “Paige stop.” She gently pushed at Paige’s shoulders, just enough to create a space between them.

Paige stilled immediately, her hands falling away from Azzi’s hips, her hazy eyes snapping up to meet Azzi’s. The awe and unfiltered admiration written across Paige’s face made Azzi’s chest ache, her throat tightening painfully as she tried to find the right words.

“We can’t,” Azzi said softly, the words catching in her throat as her hands lingered on Paige’s shoulders, not wanting to completely let go yet.

Pain flickered in Paige’s eyes briefly but she quickly masked it as she reached out, her hand gently cupping Azzi’s cheek slowly. “It’s okay,” she said softly, forcing her voice to sound understanding.

“I…Um... I should go,” Azzi said quietly, her voice barely audible over the thundering in her chest. She turned to leave, but Paige’s voice stopped her.

“Get home safe Az,” Paige said softly.

Azzi didn’t turn back as she walked out, her mind a storm of emotions, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on her chest. She couldn’t look at Paige again. Not right now.

…

Later that night Azzi finally mustered the courage to go talk to Paige. She needed to explain, or at least some kind of resolution to everything swirling between them. The night’s events—especially the kiss in the bathroom—kept replaying in her mind, and she couldn't get rid of the knot in her stomach. She knew she couldn’t just let things sit unresolved between them. But she didn’t know what to expect when she knocked on Paige’s dorm door.

As she walked down the hall toward Paige’s room, Azzi felt her heart pound in her chest. Her hand hovered over the door, and for a moment, she paused, wondering if this was the right thing to do. But before she could knock, she heard something from inside Paige’s room—a sound that made her blood run cold.

“Paige! Oh my god, Fuck Paige.” A girl’s voice, excited and a little too loud for the quiet of the dorms.

Azzi’s stomach dropped. She froze, her hand still in the air. The sound of the girl calling Paige’s name echoed in her ears, and Azzi could feel a wave of nausea rise in her throat. Her pulse quickened, and her breath caught in her chest.

It hurt, even though Azzi couldn’t explain why. She wanted to shake it off, to remind herself that she wasn’t with Paige and that she had no claim on her, but the sting wouldn’t go away.

She stood there for a long moment, paralyzed by the sick feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t even bring herself to knock on the door anymore. Instead, she backed away, feeling like she couldn’t catch her breath. The feeling of walking into Paige’s room and finding that girl with her—that girl whose name she didn’t even know but who had already made Azzi feel small—was too much.

Azzi turned and walked quickly down the hallway, away from Paige’s room, her heart racing in her chest.

…

For the next few weeks, Paige and Azzi kept things friendly, almost as if that night at Ted's had never happened. They didn’t bring it up once—no awkward glances, no mention of the kiss. They were good at pretending. To anyone else, they were just two friends hanging out, enjoying the occasional late-night talk, laughing at inside jokes, and sharing glances across the room. And for a while, that worked. They kept it light and uncomplicated. But Azzi knew, deep down, that something had changed.

It wasn’t until they found themselves at another party that the cracks started to show again. Clearly alcohol was their biggest enemy. This time, it was more of a low-key kickback in someone’s suite—still loud and filled with the hum of music and chatter, but less crowded than a full on party. Azzi was grateful for that; she didn’t want to deal with the crowds of people that had made everything feel so messy the last time.

Amber hadn’t so much as glanced at her all night, spending the majority of her time with some girl from her law class who kept trailing after her, whispering in her ear, and laughing like they were in their own little world. Azzi didn’t mind. In fact, it was a relief. She didn’t want to deal with Amber tonight. She just wanted to get through the evening without any drama—something she knew she was starting to crave, especially when it came to Paige.

Paige was there too, of course, as she always was. She wasn’t exactly the life of the party, but she was still fun to be around. Her usual carefree energy, though, was tempered by something tonight. Azzi couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something in the way Paige held herself, the way she lingered a little too long in Azzi’s space when they shared a laugh, or the way their hands brushed as they passed each other in the small crowd.

For a while, Azzi managed to focus on other things—laughing at jokes, chatting with some of their teammates, and even dancing a little. But it wasn’t long before Paige’s presence became undeniable again. Every time she looked in Paige’s direction, there was something magnetic about her. She found herself gravitating back toward her, unable to resist the pull.

And then, of course, the alcohol kicked in. The drinks kept flowing, and just like the last time, the line between friendly and something more began to blur. Azzi caught herself looking at Paige longer than necessary, noticing the way the light hit her face or how her lips curled into a smile when she said something funny. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, responding to the subtle cues, the closeness they shared.

The night seemed to slip into a haze after a few too many drinks. The music was louder, the air warmer with the scent of alcohol and bodies pressed together. Azzi, already feeling the effects of the alcohol, found herself near Paige again. Azzi tried to focus on something else—anything else—so her eyes flickered back to Amber, still deep in conversation with the same girl from her law class.

Azzi wasn’t even upset, she was just curious about the situation, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Paige followed her line of sight, eyes narrowing slightly as she saw the same thing Azzi did. Amber was leaning in, her lips too close to the other girl’s ear, her body language clearly more than friendly. For a moment, Paige didn’t know what came over her, but she felt a spark of something, something protective that pushed her forward. Before she had a chance to second-guess it, she stood from her spot and pulled Azzi gently but firmly onto her lap on the couch, wrapping her arms around her waist.

The sudden proximity caught Azzi off guard. She could feel Paige’s heartbeat against her back, the warmth of her body pressing against hers, and the weight of Paige’s arms as they tightened around her. Azzi tensed slightly, not sure how to react to the intensity of the moment. But then Paige’s voice, soft and soothing, brushed against her ear.

“Just relax,” Paige whispered, her breath warm on Azzi’s skin. It was as if the simple words unlocked something inside Azzi. She felt her body hum, a subtle tension easing as Paige’s words settled in her mind. She leaned back slightly, her head resting against Paige’s chest, the solid thump of her heartbeat grounding her.

Paige’s voice was soft against Azzi’s ear as she whispered, "You know you're much prettier than whoever she's talking to." Azzi couldn’t help the hum that escaped her lips, the sound almost a mixture of appreciation and something else.

Paige’s voice dipped lower. “I would never do you like that.”

Azzi stayed still for a moment, leaning comfortably against Paige’s chest, but her words came out without hesitation. “You did.”

Paige froze for a second, confused, her arms tightening around Azzi instinctively. "Whatchu mean?"

Azzi let out a breath, her heart racing with the weight of the conversation, and she turned her head just enough to rest her cheek against Paige’s chest. “That night after Ted’s… I came to talk to you.”

Paige stiffened, her jaw clenching slightly. She didn’t need to hear more. She already knew exactly what Azzi was talking about. The air between them shifted, the lightness of their previous banter now replaced by an unspoken tension.

She tightened her grip around Azzi, not out of force but to keep her close, to prevent the moment from slipping out of her control. "I was drunk," Paige said quietly, though her tone betrayed a hint of guilt.

Azzi didn’t say anything for a long moment. Her chest felt tight, not just from the closeness, but from Paige’s words. She didn’t know why it hurt more to hear that it had been a moment of drunken weakness than if Paige had just admitted it had been something more. But she swallowed hard, pushing the sting of it down.

“Yeah, well.” Azzi finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air between them, as cutting as the silence that followed.

Paige let out a frustrated breath, but instead of getting defensive, she spoke with more restraint. “You wanna know something?” Her voice was quieter now.

Azzi nodded her head gently against Paige’s chest, her heart pounding in anticipation. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at Paige just yet, not wanting to see what might be written on her face.

Paige’s lips brushed against Azzi’s ear as she spoke, lowering her voice even more, making Azzi shiver. “Your name slipped out.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at that, her body instinctively turning, as if the words had unlocked something inside her. She was trying to turn to face Paige, to process what had just been said, but Paige’s grip on her tightened, keeping her in place, pressing her body flush against hers.

“Don’t. Just listen,” Paige murmured. Azzi felt the heat of Paige’s breath against her neck, and despite the knot in her stomach, she couldn’t pull away. Paige’s arms were like anchors, steadying her in the midst of the storm inside her.

Amber’s gaze shifted across the room, her eyes narrowing when she spotted the two of them. She had been too distracted by the girl from her law class, but now that she was looking, it was impossible to ignore the way Azzi and Paige were practically wrapped around each other. Paige’s arm was snugly around Azzi’s waist, their heads tilted toward each other, too close. Amber felt a surge of anger rise within her as she watched Paige’s lips move near Azzi’s ear, whispering something she couldn’t hear but could certainly imagine as Azzi’s eyes fluttered closed and she crossed her legs.

Amber’s grip on her drink tightened, and her pulse quickened. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Azzi was lost in the moment, but then, out of the corner of her eye she felt Amber’s gaze. The air seemed to thicken, and Azzi could feel the tension spike instantly, even before Paige noticed.

Amber’s eyes were locked on her and Paige, and the fury in her gaze was clear. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and her posture was rigid. Azzi knew Amber well enough to see the storm brewing in her eyes, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like it was directed solely at Azzi. It was as if Amber was furious with Paige too.

Paige, however, seemed to enjoy the spectacle once she noticed. Her smirk widening as she notices Amber staring at them. She didn’t break eye contact with Amber. Instead, she leaned in closer to Azzi, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper that sent an involuntary shiver through her.

"You want me to let go?"

Azzi’s eyes flickered toward Amber, still standing across the room, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. Azzi paused, her heart racing as she considered Paige’s question.

She knew Amber was watching. And yet, as her mind spun with uncertainty, her body couldn’t help but answer for her. She shook her head softly, her voice barely a whisper as she responded, "No."

Paige’s smile was slow and full of satisfaction, a gleam of triumph in her eyes as she tightened her hold on Azzi, pulling her impossibly closer. Azzi felt the pressure of Paige’s arms wrapping around her, keeping her in place as Paige’s lips descended on her neck, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss against the sensitive skin there.

Azzi's breath caught in her throat, her body trembling slightly from the gentle caress as she bit her lip. Paige made sure to angle her head just enough so that Amber could see every move, every touch. The kiss lingered for a moment longer than necessary, the intimacy of it undeniable.

Paige pulled away just slightly, her gaze flicking over to Amber, locking eyes with her again in an almost mocking way. She knew Amber was furious, but it seemed like the moment only fueled Paige’s smirk, her confidence growing as she deliberately pressed closer to Azzi, the whole scene laid out in front of Amber’s watchful eyes.

Azzi, still caught in the feeling of Paige’s touch, swallowed hard, trying to focus on the situation at hand. But Paige had effectively shifted the focus back to Amber, making sure that whatever was happening—whatever was about to happen—Amber couldn’t look away.

Paige kissed Azzi’s neck a few more times, each press of her lips making Azzi’s pulse quicken.

The soft, lingering touches felt like they were meant for no one but her, and for a moment, everything else faded. Azzi’s breath became shallow, her body leaning into Paige’s embrace, her mind clouded completely by the heat of the moment.

But then, the spell was broken.

Amber, whose eyes blazing with a mix of rage and intoxication, stormed across the room. Her movements were unsteady. Without hesitation, Amber yanked Azzi off of Paige, the movement more forceful than necessary.

Azzi stumbled slightly, the abruptness of the action catching her off guard, but before she could even regain her balance, Paige was standing up quickly, her posture stiff, her jaw clenching with anger. She stepped in front of Azzi, putting herself between them, her eyes flashing as she looked Amber up and down.

“Don’t fucking touch her like that,” Paige’s voice was low but still controlled enough.

Amber, still fuming, sneered at Paige.. “I can touch her however the fuck I want to,” she spat, her voice slurred just enough to reflect how drunk she was. She took a step toward Azzi, her hand reaching out again as if to make her point as she tried to grab Azzit.

Paige stepped between them before she could get any closer. “Yo, you needa chill,” Paige said.

Amber ignored her and reached for Azzi again, but Paige’s hand shot out, stopping her in her tracks. “Bro, she’s not going with you. You’re crashing out,” Paige said. Her eyes locked on Amber’s with a mix of warning and restraint.

Amber let out a bitter chuckle, her drunkenness masking the anger simmering beneath. “I promise you haven’t seen that yet,” she snapped.

Paige didn’t flinch. She didn’t step back. Instead, she moved closer, her jaw clenching even tighter. The air between them was thick and for a moment, it felt like the room had gone silent, everyone holding their breath to see what would happen next.

Just as the situation was about to tip over the edge, Evina appeared out of nowhere, throwing her arm around Paige’s shoulders casually.. “Yo, you good, P?” she asked, her voice light but carrying enough weight to cut through the tension.

Paige didn’t take her eyes off Amber, their gaze still locked. “Yeah, I’m good E.”

Evina, still sensing the storm brewing, gently started nudging Paige back, her arm firm around her shoulders. “Alright, then. Let’s keep it that way,” she said, her tone calm as she tried to defuse the situation before it exploded.

Paige let it happen, allowing Evina to put some space between her and Amber, though her eyes never left Amber’s face. The message was clear.

Amber’s voice cut through the heavy silence.. “Azzi this is bullshit, let’s go.”.

Azzi didn’t move from her position near Paige, her body tense, clearly caught in an internal battle. Her eyes flicked between Amber and Paige, knowing her answer but unsure of what to say. How to say it.

Amber’s frustration turned to disbelief as she took a step forward, her movements aggressive. “Azzi, are you fucking serious right now?” she snapped, her voice rising. She tried to get closer to Azzi, but Paige was there again, stepping in and blocking her path.

“She clearly doesn’t wanna go with you, just let it go,” Paige said.

Amber scoffed, glaring at Paige like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “She can speak for herself. She’s not a fucking toddler,” she shot back, her anger bubbling over.

The words seemed to snap Azzi out of her internal battle. She straightened her posture, inhaling deeply as she finally found her voice. “I’m just gonna stay with Paige tonight.”

Amber froze, her expression shifting from anger to shock as the weight of Azzi’s words sunk in. “What the fuck do you mean you’re staying with Paige tonight?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly, the disbelief clear.

Azzi’s gaze didn’t falter as she replied, her voice a little firmer this time. “You can go be with whoever you want from law class and I’m going to stay with Paige.”

The room seemed to still, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Azzi didn’t need to elaborate further. The implication in her words was clear, and Amber understood exactly what she meant.

Amber let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief as she looked between Azzi and Paige. “Wow,” she muttered. “Almost three years of my life down the fucking drain.”

For a moment, Amber stood there, her chest rising and falling as if she wanted to say more, but no words came. With a sharp turn, she stormed toward the counter. Grabbing an empty glass, she poured herself a hefty drink, the sound of liquid hitting glass cutting through the tense silence.

Azzi exhaled shakily, her shoulders slumping as the weight of the moment settled over her. She stared at the floor, processing everything, her mind racing with emotions she couldn’t untangle.

Paige noticed. She stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Azzi’s back to draw her attention. Azzi glanced at her, her watery eyes betraying the calm facade she was trying to keep.

“You good?” Paige asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

Azzi gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she murmured, but the slight tremor in her voice told another story.

Paige studied her carefully, reading every detail—the tenseness of her shoulders, the glossiness of her pretty brown eyes, the way her hands fidgeted. She saw it all: the hurt, the relief, and the overwhelming weight of the decision Azzi had just made.

After a moment, Paige leaned in slightly. “You wanna get outta here?”

Azzi blinked quickly, trying to chase away the tears that were trying to spill over. She looked at Paige, the question hanging in the air like an open door, a perfect escape that she desperately needed. With a small nod, she said.

“Yes. Please.”

Without another word, Paige slid her arm around Azzi’s shoulders and Azzi melted into her side, leaning her head slightly against Paige's as they made their way to the door.

Some people in the room seemed to register the moment. Heads turned the weight of their departure together a little more serious.

…

After that, it was like the universe conspired to give Azzi small, quiet signs the rest of the night, reassuring her that she’d made the right decision.

The first came in the form of Paige when they got back to the room. She didn’t push or pry for information or what this meant for them; she simply held Azzi, her arms wrapped securely around her while silent tears slipped down Azzi’s face. It wasn’t dramatic or loud—just a quiet release as Azzi processed the reality of what had happened. She wasn’t exactly sad, but the weight of ending a nearly three-year relationship pressed on her chest.

Paige didn’t say anything. She didn’t try to fill the silence with platitudes or ask if Azzi wanted to talk. She just stayed there, letting Azzi’s tears fall against her chest, dampening her chest.

That was the first sign—because Azzi didn’t know anyone else, besides sweet and gentle Paige, who would hold the girl they were in love with while she cried over her ex. It was a selfless love that Azzi hadn’t experienced before, the kind of quiet genuine love that didn’t demand gratitude or expect anything in return.

Eventually, the tears slowed, Azzi’s body growing heavier in Paige’s arms. Her breathing evened out, her exhaustion catching up to her.

Paige didn’t move, didn’t let go, even as Azzi drifted to sleep against her chest, her tears drying where they’d fallen.

The next moment the universe seemed to confirm Azzi had made the right choice came later that night. Paige hadn’t fully let herself fall asleep yet. She was hovering in that space between wakefulness and rest, a part of her instinctively still alert because she knew what might happen.

Hours later, Azzi began to stir, soft murmurs turning into restless movements as her breathing changed. The effects of a bad dream pulled her out of sleep, and she woke with a slight panic.

But Paige was there.

Within seconds, Paige tightened her arms around Azzi, pulling her back down to the mattress, whispering groggily, “It’s just a dream, Az.” Her voice was a little raspy from sleep, barely above a murmur, but it anchored Azzi.

Azzi stayed still, her breath shaky as she tried to gather herself. Paige, still half-asleep, spooned her tightly, her hold warm and reassuring, her presence a contrast for Azzi’s frayed nerves. They didn’t say anything for a while, letting the silence stretch out between them as Paige’s coconut-and-vanilla scent surrounded Azzi.

Azzi lay there, her mind racing as she processed everything—where she finally was, who she was with, and how different it felt. Finally, she whispered, “Are you awake?”

Paige squeezed her tighter, pulling her closer into the spooning position, and hummed in response, the sound low in Azzi’s ear.

After a moment, Paige’s voice, still thick with sleep, asked, “You wanna talk about your dream?”

Azzi hesitated before asking, “How’d you know it was a bad dream?”

Even in the dark, Paige smiled, though Azzi couldn’t see it. “I noticed on a few road games,” she said softly, “you tend to have nightmares when you’ve had a lot of sugar that day.” Her voice carried a teasing warmth as she continued, “Almost like your mind needs to burn off all the extra energy or something.”

Azzi couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, her heart feeling lighter in a way she hadn’t expected. The way Paige noticed things like that—small, seemingly inconsequential details—made Azzi’s chest ache in the best way.

In that moment, Azzi allowed herself to fully confirm what she’d known for a while: Paige was the right one for her. She pressed herself further into Paige, her back snug against Paige’s chest, and interlaced their fingers, her palm pressing against the back of Paige’s hand.

Paige felt the shift and whispered, “You good?”

Azzi nodded, humming her confirmation, but Paige wasn’t fully convinced. “You can’t sleep anymore?” she asked gently, her thumb brushing over Azzi’s knuckles.

“No,” Azzi admitted quietly.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s hair as she murmured, “What do you need? I can make you some tea or something.”

Azzi hesitated, her mind swirling. The weight of the day, the relief of being held by Paige, and the pull of something deeper. Finally, after a long moment, she shifted closer to Paige—though there was hardly any space left between them—and guided Paige’s hand lower, resting over her waistband, silently telling her what she wanted.

Paige stilled for a moment, processing Azzi’s request. Then, her fingers tightened slightly around Azzi’s hand. “Are you sure?” Paige whispered, making sure Azzi was fully in control of what she wanted.

Azzi turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting Paige’s in the faint light spilling in through the blinds. “Yeah,” she whispered back, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her gaze.

Paige leaned forward, pressing a soft lingering kiss to Azzi’s lips. She then trailed a few more kisses down Azzi’s neck, her movements slow, giving Azzi time to change her mind if she wanted to. Paige’s breath brushed against Azzi’s ear as she murmured, “Are you sure, Azzi?”

She nodded softly against Paige, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “Yes I’m sure,” she whispered.

Paige searched her face for another moment, wanting to be absolutely certain. When she found nothing but certainty in Azzi’s expression, she smiled back, her features softening. Her free hand brushed a strand of hair from Azzi’s face as she murmured, “Okay.”

She leaned in again, her lips trailing along Azzi’s jawline, her lips filled with nothing but care. Paige moved slowly, wanting to savor every moment and make sure Azzi felt safe after everything from earlier that night. After her lips have traced every part of Azzis neck, Paige softly grabs her jaw pulling her towards into a soft kiss. Their lips and tongues dance with one another perfectly as Paige leads them.

The kiss grew more urgent, both of them succumbing to the warmth spreading through their bodies and the slight alcohol still in their system. It was the kind of heat that made the air feel heavier, the kind that drew them closer despite the impossibleness of closing the already nonexistent gap between them.

Paige let out a low groan when Azzi nipped at her bottom lip, sending a shiver down her spine that she felt all the way to her toes. Azzi smirked against Paige’s lips at the sound, emboldened by how easily she could unravel her.

Trying to turn in Paige’s arms to face her fully, Azzi shifted, but Paige tightened her hold, her hands firm as they kept Azzi in place. “Stay like this,” Paige murmured against her lips, her voice rough and breathless.

Azzi sighed softly at the words, her body relaxing into Paige’s as she allowed herself to be guided, her hands coming up to rest on top of Paige’s that were trailing up Azzi’s stomach to palm her breast under her sports bra. Making Azzi moan quietly.

Her head tilting slightly to give Paige more space, their lips meeting again in a kiss that was softer this time but no less consuming.

The world outside their little bubble ceased to exist. There was nothing but the sound of their uneven breaths and the muffled sounds of their kisses filling the 3 a.m. silence. Paige squeezed Azzi’s chest slightly, her palm warm as it anchored Azz here and there, Azzi couldn’t help the way her chest rose and fell a little quicker, her heart racing each time Paige palmed her breast or circling her fingers, as she surrendered to the moment.

The air between them is a little sticky with heat, the silence punctuated only by the occasional gasp or hum of pleasure as Paige's hand explores more boldly. Azzi's breath hitches when Paige's lips trail lower again, brushing against the soft skin of her neck, as she sucks softly here and there. A warmth spreads through Azzi and she tilts her head to give Paige more room, her body quickly reacting in ways she hadn't expected. It usually took her so much longer.

Paige is completely lost in the moment too, her fingers grazing over Azzi's skin, exploring the curves of her body with a gentle urgency.

She can feel the quick rhythm of Azzi's heartbeat beneath her touch and the slight tremor in her movements every time she takes a deep breath. It's a silent conversation between them, that speaks of trust and longing, of desires barely held in check.

Paige pauses just for a moment, her lips hovering over Azzi's skin. "Can I leave marks?" she whispers again, her voice still soft but filled with a hint of need. Azzi reaches back as her fingers curl into Paige's hair, tugging her down to meet her lips for a moment. "Just make sure it’s below my jersey," she murmurs.

Paige nods at this as she goes back to sucking on Azzi’s neck, only sucking harshly when she angled herself enough to be near her chest. This made Azzi hum quietly each time as she grew more needy.

The tension between them thickens as Azzi, unable to hold herself back, pushes herself back against Paige with more urgency.

Paige doesn't hesitate, sensing her need, and her hand slides into Azzi’s shorts down to where Azzi's body is calling out for more. The touch alone causes a soft whimper to escape Azzi’s as Paige drags her fingers through her wetness.

Azzi's whimpers, her body reacting immediately to the feeling. Paige smiles to herself, the sound of Azzi's breathless response sending a rush of heat through her.

"How do you like it, pretty girl?" Paige whispers, her voice low and teasing Azzi a little as she continues rubbing against her, brushing her lips along Azzi's neck.

Azzi barely manages to catch her breath, her eyes fluttering closed. It's almost too much for her to process, her body demanding more but her mind clouded with desire that she never wants to end. She struggles to find her voice, a soft tremble in her response. "I don’t know... I haven’t done a lot," she breathes, her words catching.

Paige chuckles softly, her lips gently tracing the outline of Azzi's jaw, coaxing her to speak. "You still gotta tell me what you want," she murmurs, her thumb brushing Azzi's lips.

Azzi, breath hitching, whines quietly in response, the word spilling out of her before she even fully realizes it. "Rough."

A slow hum escapes Paige at the confession. There's a slight pause, a moment where she evaluates, making sure Azzi is sure. "You wanna try it?" she asks.

Azzi nods, eyes half-lidded, her voice almost a whisper. "Just a little for now."

Paige nods with a small, satisfied smile.

"Mm. Okay." She adjusts so she can tangle her fingers in Azzi’s hair to tug slightly, pulling her head back just enough to expose more of her neck. Her other hand continues its journey, her movements deliberate as she works Azzi up, feeling Azzi's pulse quicken beneath her touch.

Azzi immediately gasps as Paige yanks her hair back again and inserts her fingers at the same time. Paige keeping Azzi close as she works her fingers in and out.

Azzi, who has always prided herself on her composure, found herself straining to stay silent. Every brush of Paige’s lips, every gentle tug of her hands in Azzi’s hair and the way she was moving in and out of her with ease, sent shockwaves through Azzi that begged for release in the form of a sound. But she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, refusing to let the smallest escape.

Their situation was far too complicated for anyone to find out like this, especially not their teammates. Azzi’s mind flickered briefly to how disastrous it would be if someone heard them, but even that thought wasn’t enough to fully pull her back from the haze of desire Paige had her in.

Paige noticed the tension in Azzi’s body and the shallow rise and fall of her chest. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she trailed kisses and bites along the column of Azzi’s neck, testing just how far she could push her.

“Struggling, huh?” Paige whispered, her lips brushing the shell of Azzi’s ear.

Azzi shivered but didn’t respond, her nails digging slightly into Paige’s arm definitely leaving nail marks. She bit her lip harder, trying to focus on anything other than the way Paige’s mouth was wreaking havoc on her self-control.

Paige chuckled softly at her silence, the sound vibrating against Azzi’s skin and making it even harder for her to stay quiet. “Relax,” Paige murmured, her voice softer now, her lips pressing a kiss just below Azzi’s ear. “I’ll make sure you stay quiet.”

The reassurance helped, only a little, but it was still a battle for Azzi to keep her composure. Her heart raced as she nodded faintly, leaning back into Paige, trusting her to keep them both grounded.

They stayed just like that for some time. Paige whispering in Azzi’s ear as she worked in and out of her and Azzi biting her lip or pushing her face into the pillow to try to muffle some of the sounds slipping out of her.

Eventually Azzi starts pushing herself further into Paige trying to match her rhythm as Paige's grip tightens in Azzi's hair, pulling her head back just enough for her lips to brush against Azzi's ear. Her voice a little rough, full of her restrained desire as she mumbled, “You feel so fucking good.”

Azzi whimpered at the words, her breathing unsteady as she said, “It’s so hard to stay quiet.” Her voice cracked slightly, her desperation evident, and it made Paige’s chest tighten in the best way.

“I know,” Paige chuckled softly, her tone laced with amusement. “I can tell.” Her lips grazed Azzi’s jawline before she whispered, “You’re doing so good.”

The praise sent heat through Azzi’s legs, and before she could stop herself, she was desperately reaching back to grab Paige's head and pulling her into a desperate kiss. It was the only way she could think to quiet herself, to channel everything she was feeling without letting any more sounds escape.

Paige groaned softly into her kiss, her hands sinking deeper into Azzi, her other hand still tangled in her hair as she held her firmly in place. She met Azzi’s need with her own, kissing her deeply, almost possessively. Azzi whimpered again at the new angle, and Paige swallowed the sound, her lips and tongue moving against Azzi’s in a way that made the world around them disappear.

Azzi’s neediness grew, her hands clutching at Paige as if letting go would shatter her. The kiss deepened further, their breaths mingling as Azzi melted into Paige, unable to think of anything but the way her body responded to Paige as if it had never been touched before.

Paige pulled back just enough to murmur against Azzi’s lips, her voice breathless but teasing. “You still good on being quiet?”

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed as she whispered, “Not if you keep fucking me like this.”

Paige chuckles before leaning back down to pull Assi into a kiss as she continues working her fingers in and out of Azzi. She wants to do so much more to her but she’s taking it slow for Azzi who is less experienced. Not long after, Azzi's legs are squeezing around Paige's hand as she starts to chase her release.

Paige senses Azzi's growing struggle to stay quiet, knowing just how difficult it’s going to be. So she brings her free arm under Azzi, guiding her hand to Azzi’s lips. “Bite down,” Paige whispers, her voice low.

Azzi hesitates for a moment, confusion flashing across her face before the pressure builds as Paige starts curling her fingers perfectly as she adds her thumb to Azzi’s clit. Feeling overwhelmed by this she does exactly as Paige instructed. Her teeth sinking into Paige’s hand, a sharp, almost desperate grip as her body starts trembling. Her legs squeezing Paige’s hand impossibly tight as she finishes all over her hand.

The sensation sends a wave of heat through Paige, but the bite is harsh, almost painful, as Azzi fights to stay silent. Paige, feeling the intensity of the bite, clenches her jaw but when that's not enough she quickly presses her lips to Azzi's shoulder, the sting of her own discomfort igniting a need to counter it. Her teeth graze Azzi's skin, just enough to distract from the sharp bite, as both of them are caught in the tension of the moment as Paige coaxes Azzi through her release.

As Azzi’s breathing finally began to slow, still uneven but no longer shaky as Paige pressed soft kisses to her shoulder and the back of her neck. Grounding Azzi as she murmured against her skin, “You’re so beautiful... so perfect Azzi….” Her voice was a soothing balm, wrapping Azzi in warmth.

Azzi felt herself going limp against Paige, her body almost like dead weight, but Paige didn’t let go. She held her firmly.

After some time, Azzi shifted, turning to face Paige. Her brown eyes were hazy, her lips slightly parted as she tried to process the moment. Paige reached up, her wet fingers brushing Azzi’s lips gently.

“Open,” Paige whispered, her voice soft but commanding.

Still in a daze, Azzi obeyed without hesitation, parting her lips as Paige slid her fingers into Azzi’s mouth letting her taste herself. Azzi instinctively wrapped her lips around them, her eyes fluttering as she felt the intimacy of the gesture. Paige’s eyes softened, a quiet smile gracing her lips as she watched Azzi experience something new, her thumb of her free hand brushing over Azzi’s cheek.

Paige slowly withdrew her fingers, leaning in to kiss Azzi tenderly. Their lips met in a slow kiss that felt like a question and an answer all at once. When they finally broke apart, Paige cupped Azzi’s face, her thumb grazing her jawline.

“You okay?” Paige asked, her blue eyes searching Azzi’s for any hint of hesitation or regret.

Azzi nodded, her eyes hooded, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, “Yeah... I’m more than okay.”

"Come here," Paige whispered softly, as she tugged Azzi closer. Azzi let herself be pulled, settling onto Paige’s chest with ease. Her head rested just over Paige’s heart, and the steady, rhythmic sound filled her ears. It wasn’t completely calm, though—it was hammering in her chest, quick and unsteady, a stark contrast to the soothing hand Paige had resting on her back.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her voice quiet. “Your heart’s beating fast.”

Paige let out a soft chuckle, the vibrations against Azzi’s cheek. “Of course it is,” she admitted, but she didn’t offer any further explanation. She didn’t need to—Azzi already knew what it meant.

Azzi opened her mouth to say something, to ask if Paige was sure about all of this, but before she could, Paige leaned down and caught her lips in another kiss. It wasn’t rushed or full of heat like the others they’d shared tonight—it was grounding, a soft reassurance.

When they broke apart, Paige murmured, “Just relax Az. We can talk about it later.”

Azzi nodded, settling back into Paige’s chest as her breathing evened out. She reached down to intertwine their hands, wanting the simple connection, but she froze when her fingers brushed against Paige’s hand. Her eyes widened slightly as she felt the harsh indentations there.

She gasped softly. “Oh my God,” Azzi whispered, realizing she’d left marks.

Paige chuckled again, her tone more playful this time. “Yeah… I don’t know what the hell you’re going to do when I start doing everything else.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, letting out a small laugh as she tucked herself back against Paige’s chest. The teasing didn’t faze her at all because she knew it was lighthearted. Instead, she focused on the comforting rhythm of Paige’s heartbeat, the sound lulling her further into a state of peace she hasn’t felt in a while.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Azzi allowed herself to sink into the moment fully. As she listened to Paige’s heartbeat, soothing her to sleep, the truth she’d been fighting hard to ignore surfaced in her mind. She was in love with Paige. Completely and irrevocably.

And for once, she didn’t feel the need to push it away as she kissed Paige’s neck softly before drifting in her arms.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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seungfl0wer · 4 months ago

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*𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕?*

Paring: Chan x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Unprotected sex, Creampie, (P in V), dirty talk, use of princess, Oral (F), sorry if I missed any, not proofread so sorry for any mistakes

This was requested from my prompt list 6: “you weren’t supposed to hear that”

A/N: I’m sorry if this is all over the place. I haven’t had time to even think *Sigh* so I’m sorry if it’s not my best.

-🖤

Working late today, you just felt so exhausted from the long shift. Feeling tired and stressed you were honestly ready to scream. You were gonna head home but your friend’s place was a lot closer, You stayed there often especially after late shifts. You didn’t think he’d mind, he was probably still awake anyways. You shot him a message about crashing there but he never responded. You figured he was just working on something. When you go to his place you knocked before reaching for the space key he had given you.

Opening the door it was pretty quiet surprisingly. Normally there was at least music playing but nothing. You stayed quiet thinking he was probably just asleep. Making your way to the spare bedroom you placed your stuff down heading to the bathroom. You started to wash your face when you heard a noise. You tilted your head thinking you heard Chan call for you. The silence was so loud though, thinking you were going crazy you wiped your face.

Making your way back to the room you heard your name again, this time you really heard it. It sounded soft and then again this time mixed with noises and then you heard it “fuck y/n you feel so good.” Hearing this made your stomach flip. A knot in it slowly building as you walked towards his room. The door was half way open, peering in you saw him. He was bent over a pillow fully naked as he was thrusting into the makeshift ‘body’ he had made. You knew you shouldn’t be watching, you’d be mortified if he’d see you but god- did he look good.

His toned body glistening with sweat as moans and groans left his mouth. His movements were everywhere as he pushed himself in and out of the pillow. He gripped it tightly head falling backwards “fuck y/n I wanna fill you- ah- ah fuck need you wrapped around me” his words pour out like a faucet. “Y/n fuck- y/n” he moaned. The scene in front of you was turning you on more than you’d like to admit. Chans been your friend for a while now but he was definitely hot no doubt about it.

That smile of his alone made you weak but hearing him like this just- made a pool in your panties. He started moving not wanting to be found out as a creeper you quickly moved to the side. Nothing could have prepared you for the sweet noise you were about to hear “y/n! Fuck! Ah- cu-cuming!” The low groan he left out followed by moans and whimpers as he came. You stood there almost drooling over how hot he sounded. So many thoughts were swirling in your head that you didn’t hear him walking towards the door.

As he walked out he looked over at you, doing a double take trying to figure if he was tripping. “How long have you been- here?” He said his voice a bit shaky. You couldn’t think straight not after hearing what you did. Not only that but he was now standing infront of you fully naked. His cock slightly still hard, his body red glistening with sweat. “I uhm-“ you stuttered out eyes glancing over him.

“Y/n- I- how much did you hear?” He said his eyes burning a hole into you. “Well I” your words just wouldn’t come out. Everything just getting stuck like a cat actually had your tongue. “Fuck- you weren’t supposed to hear any of that- I mean obviously.. I didn’t know you were coming- I’m sorry- I hope you don’t think I’m weird. It’s just-“ he sighed. “You’re so- pretty and you always pop in my mind when I’m doing this and- and I can’t help it” he continues to ramble.

As he’s talking about it you could see his cock twitching like, being caught or telling you about it was turning him on again. You subconsciously rubbed your legs together, feeling hornier than you ever have. “Why didn’t you just ask for my help?” Your words came out without you even thinking about it. His eyes widened “are- are you serious?” He asked. “I- uhm I yes I’m serious” you stuttered out, eyes meeting for the first time. Without a second of thought he pulled you to him lips crashing into yours. His tongue found its way into your mouth his hands came down wrapping around your waist. He picked you up wrapping your legs around him making you squeal. He chuckled before chasing after your lips once again.

As he laid you down his hands frantically wondered your body. Finding their way to your pants he quickly pulled them down, his hands came under your legs lifting them up. He pressed himself between you his cock pressing against your folds, The contact making you both moan. He moved his hips his cock head coming up to press against your clit. His lips were making their way down to your neck sucking harshly at the skin. Both of you were desperate “Chan- please” you begged breathily hands pulling him to you.

He didn’t even hesitate before letting himself slip into you. Hands gripping tightly to him desperate for more contact. He didn’t move right away the feeling too good for him already. He must have been still for to long though, because you started to whine “move” you said softly. He looked down at you with the most fucked out face as he started to move slowly. He was so lost in the feeling of you, so drunk off of you he bottomed out almost immediately. His cock head kissing your cervix ever so perfectly.

“God you feel even better than I expected” he moaned. His movement were all over the place. He leaned down to you kissing you sloppily his tongue lapping at yours teeth biting at your bottom lip. His hands griped onto your legs desperately trying to find something to anchor him. He felt like he was in a dream, just minutes before he was getting off to the thought of you. Now he’s getting off with you, with him deep inside you. Your body felt addicting, he craved it needed it or he possible might die. “Y/n fuck I’m-“ he started to say his head falling back.

“Cum for me Chris, fuck- please” you say but he shook his head “n-no i wanna savor this moment. Need it to last longer.” He said before pulling out before you could even protest at the loss of him he was going down your body. His lips attached to your wet cunt like some hungry animal. He was fucking you with his tongue his fingers playing with your clit. Your body arched at the feeling moaning his name as you gripped at his hair. “Fuck!” Is all you could get out as he switched. Fingers now pumping into as he sucked harshly at your clit. “Cum for me- please I wanna taste every bit of you.” He said his words coming out like a plea.

He sped his movements up biting softly at your sensitive nub, you uncontrollably started to move your hips. Bucking them grinding into his tongue as you chased your high. “That’s it baby cum for me, fuck cum for princess” he said feeling you clench around his fingers. You came hard, harder than you ever have before. Pulling his hair hard almost screaming his name as your body levitated from the mattress. He continued through your high before quickly coming up to you. He leaned his head against yours eyes looking into each others.

He guided himself into you once again cock moving in and out, he watched as your face contorted in pleasure. Becoming sensitive from just cumming you felt a bigger knot in your stomach. It was already building once again as each thrust hit your g-spot. “Fuck- you feel so good. I’ve never wanted someone as much as I’ve wanted you. Fuck y/n! Fuck! Fuck!” He groaned out sitting up gripping your hips as he pushed deeper into you. His hand came down to play with your clit, thrust becoming sloppier. As you looked up at him the view was magnificent, his eyes were glossed over, lips swollen and mouth half open.

“I’m so fucking close y/n” he breathed out “Chris- c- cum inside” you moaned. The look on his face was everything, a mixture of shock and pure ecstasy “Yeah? I can? Really?” He said in disbelief. You nod yes making him groan. He leaned his body down laying it against yours head in the crook of your neck. He started to thrust sloppier into you his hand on your clit moving frantically. “I’m gonna fill you full, gonna fill this pretty pussy so full it only wants me” he said against your ear. “Y/n you’re all mine ok? Please I need you to be all mine” he babbled on.

He leaned up looking into your eyes “tell me please- say it” he said eyes locked on you. “Chris- I’m all yours. Only yours.” And with those words it pushed him over the edge his body was stuttering inside you cuming deep as he let out moans and curses. As he came the feeling of it mixed with the feeling of him playing with your abused clit made you cum. Something you didn’t expect though as you came it felt different, until you heard him groan even more “princess- fuck squirting all over me?” He said his voice shaky.

No one has ever been able to make you squirt but here you were covered in your mess, it covering Chans body. “Y/n did you really mean it? Are you all mine?” He said moving to look at you again. “Yes, I’d love to be all yours.” He smiled widely kissing you lovingly. You two stayed cuddled into each other for a few before Chan broke the silence. “Let’s go shower yeah?” You nodded “if I can walk” your comment making you both burst out laughing.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp

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underoossss · 2 years ago

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Head over Heels - S.H

masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x grumpy!f!reader

summary: Steve falls for Robin’s grumpy friend, and he falls hard.

warnings: family problems mention, trust issues, angst, hurt/comfort, no spoilers, (there’s fluff I promise!!!)

grumpy x sunshine trope

an: I know this is the first Steve fic I’ve posted IN FOREVER and I’m sorry! my writer’s block, personal problems, work and health, have all contributed to how long it took me to finish this. But I promise to make it worth your while, this is the same length as babe baby beautiful and I hope it makes you happy. I dedicate this to all my grumpy beloveds out there, who, like me. don’t relate 100% to the sunshine tropes bc sometimes life just freaking sucks. I poured my heart out with this one so, I hope this comforts you and that you like it! Please let me know. 💘

——-

The September breeze pushes Steve’s hair back as he makes his way to the Hawkin’s start-of-autumn fair, a new thing the town is trying out to make the citizens feel more upbeat after all the incidents they’ve experienced. His friends trail after him, Mike and Lucas arguing over something he doesn’t understand, Max listening to Dustin complain about some prank the soccer team played on the Hellfire Club and Robin walking by his side. Everyone shouts food orders over their shoulder, running towards the picnic tables in search for an empty one, and leaving Steve and Robin alone.

His friend is rambling by his side, and Steve nods along to what she’s telling him. She has a new friend this year, met her at homeroom when she was introduced as a new student. A senior like Robin, she got along with her just fine. I talk a lot and she doesn’t, it’s a good fit, I think she really needed a friend that day, Robin says, and now she’s friends with all of us. Steve hums in understanding, switching schools in senior year sounds awful, and he wonders why you chose to do that. He wouldn’t, unless it was for something serious.

“Anyway here she comes!” Robin says excitedly, waving you over. “I can’t believe she actually came, she’s not comfortable with strangers and she doesn’t know you. I thought she’d sit this one out.”

Steve follows Robin’s line of sight and spots you walking towards them in the distance. Baby blue sweater, light washed jeans and black high-top converse, make you stand out from the orange foliage around you. Your face is serious as you get closer, only breaking into a small smile when you wave at Robin and accept her hug. When you step back your face morphs back to neutrality, a slight furrow to your brow as you hide your hands in your back pockets.

Robin says your name and motions towards Steve. “This is Steve, the friend I told you about.” She explains, “He’s our chauffeur, monster-fighter and designated babysitter.”

Steve furrows his brows and looks sideways at Robin before he looks at you and grins. “Hi, nice to meet you.” He offers his hand and you give it one quick shake before pulling back and looking away. Steve wasn’t expecting that reaction, but he guesses what Robin said is true, you don’t like strangers.

“We’re going to get Apple fritters! They have massive ones here and they serve them with big scoops of ice cream.” Robin tells you, glancing down the line as it moves. There are only three people left to order, so the three of you step into line. “Let me check if they’re still doing the ice cream on top.”

With that, Steve is left to wait next to you until Robin is back. You shift from one leg to another, almost nervously and Steve glances at you. Your eyes meet his and then look away, not scared or nervous, just looking away like you can’t be bothered to make conversation with him. Is he intimidating? Steve asks himself or are you just a massive buzzkill that can’t even comment on the weather.

Steve tries again, scratching his cheek. “So, uh, you’re in senior year like Robin?”

You nod, looking down at your feet before looking at him. “Yeah, we have a lot of classes together. I know the guys over there as well.” Your hand lifts to point at Eddie, who’s just arrived at the table, and the kids talking around him.

Huh, so you do speak, Steve notes, but only when prompted. “Cool.” He nods, looking at your face and noticing the way you look away immediately. “So why did you move to Hawkins all of a sudden? I mean senior year, that’s gotta be rough.”

You press your lips together, looking uncomfortable by the question. Steve has the faint idea that he asked the wrong thing. “I should go say hi to everyone.” You say after an awkward cough. “If there’s ice cream can you tell Robin I’m good with cookie dough?”

Steve wordlessly takes the 5 bucks you hand him and sees you rush away from him. In the distance he can see everyone’s faces light up when they spot you, beckoning you over with excited waves, and your reluctant barely there smile as you greet them and sit down. Steve doesn’t get it; he is half mortified and half confused when Robin comes back. How is it that everyone is your friend when you’re so closed off and Steve doesn’t want to say it but… grumpy.

“Are you sure your friend wants to be here?” Steve asks Robin, looking over at you again. You’re sitting with your elbows leaning on the table, listening to everyone talk around you, neutral expression on your face. Bored, even.

“Of course, she does.” Robin is quick to say. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, she doesn’t look too thrilled to be talking to you.” Steve shrugs.

“You clearly don’t know her.” Robin shakes her head. “What did you do?”

“I only asked her about her move to Hawkins.” Steve holds his hands up defensively, then adds. “She said she likes cookie dough ice cream.”

They pause their conversation to order the fritters and pay, then continue talking while they wait.

“Okay, you shouldn’t have asked that. First of all.” Robin rolls her eyes, “Second of all, she’s friends with all of us.”

Steve huffs in disbelief. “Oh so she likes you? That’s her I like you face.”

“She adores us, you… not really but that’s cause she doesn’t know you.” Robin nods with certainty, then worries her bottom lip. “The move question is just tricky for her.”

Steve moves to say something when their order is called, and she go back to the booth to take the trays laid out in front of them. There are eight apple fritters with ice cream they have to juggle back to the table but manage to fit in their hands and arms.

“Look Steve.” Robin says seriously, lowering her voice after a sigh.” She slows her pace, so they take longer to get back to the table. “She has been through a rough time; I won’t tell you what because it took her a long time to trust me enough to open up.”

“Okay…” Steve nods, going over her words and feeling a soft pang of guilt. He wouldn’t have judged you so harshly if he knew you were struggling with something. He wouldn’t have asked you about you changing towns. “You could’ve told me that before I messed up earlier. Before I was bitchy too.”

“You’re always bitchy.” Robin huffs, then hums when she looks at you sitting in the distance. “She’s wonderful Steve, in her own way, so don’t judge her by the way she presents herself. When she trusts you, you’ll see what I‘m talking about.” She gives him a pointed look.

Robin’s words echo in his head as they reach the picnic table and hand over the food to their friends. Steve places yours in front of you with a nod to which you say thank you. Now that he knows a little more about you, Steve guesses you were both left with a bad first impression. They aren’t his forte, and it’s not his fault you weren’t the same person with him as you are with Robin. You don’t know each other, of course it was going to be awkward. Steve sees what Robin means as everyone chats and eats; he sees it in the way your eyes soften, and lips smile slightly when Max begins to tell you something. He sees it in the way you lean closer to the redhead and whisper something that has her laughing soon after; you smile as well before turning your attention back to the group. Dustin and Eddie are planning some sort of revenge on the jocks from the soccer team who messed up something in their Hellfire Room.

Steve tries to focus on what they’re saying but he’s too busy looking at you, trying to figure you out. What happened? What’s the thing that you told Robin that made you keep the gentleness you showed to Max tucked away? You feel him looking at you and meet his eyes, it’s a distrustful glance from the way you narrow your eyes at him. Okay, Steve probably stared at you too long. He looks away and hears you sigh before you do too, tuning back into the conversation between the Hellfire club sitting at the other end of the picnic table.

“That’s a horrible plan.” You say plainly, making Max snort and Eddie pause the conversation. The metalhead rolls his eyes –no annoyance, no malice in sight. Steve supposes Eddie knows you like Robin does.

“Why is that, buttercup?” Eddie asks.

“They’ll know it was you, and they’ll beat you up, Munson.” You tell him seriously with an eye roll of your own –Steve doesn’t need to know you to catch the concern in your tone. “Put some laxatives in their protein powders instead.”

Steve lets out a bark of laughter that startles the table; that would be a good prank if he’s being honest. Everyone turns to look at him, including you and Steve clears his throat. “It’s a good idea.” He mumbles rubbing his chin, then meets your eyes briefly to find something like amusement in them.

“No, no, no.” Dustin shakes his head. “It is an objectively good plan, there’s no way they’ll know it’s us.”

“Yeah, we’ll wait for them to leave and then sneak into the locker room.” Eddie adds. “We’ll seal their lockers shut, they can’t change into their gear the next day and their coach yells their ears off.”

“The perfect plan.” Dustin says proudly and looks around the take to see who agrees.

“You sure they won’t be able to trace the prank back to you? See it as immediate revenge for what they did?” Max asks nodding towards you, “She’s right.”

“We’re absolutely sure.” Eddie confirms with a nod, clapping his hands in front of him.

“Can I read the eulogy at your funeral then?” You ask Eddie and Dustin with fake enthusiasm. “I call dibs.”

Steve chuckles and next to him, Robin fakes discontent as she rolls her eyes. “Damn, I wanted to do it.”

You send a smile her way before you clear your throat. “Eddie and Dustin died as they lived.” Your words are solemn as you speak. “With bad plans and too much confidence that they’ll work.”

“They always work.” Eddie says, chuckling at your words with everyone else. You simply raise one eyebrow at him, which Steve must admit is hot, and Eddie shakes his head. “I guess they sort of work.”

“So, laxatives?” Dustin asks Eddie after a minute, a defeated hunch to his shoulders.

“Laxatives.” Eddie and the rest of Hellfire repeats before the table bursts into laughter– including Steve.

His eyes don’t leave you though. You’re not laughing like everyone else but there’s a small smile on your face. It is reserved but softens your face in the loveliest way. It shows him you are enjoying their company despite the otherwise inexpressive look on your face. Steve begins to wonder then… if he wins your trust, the one you have with Robin and Max, will you smile at him the same way you do with them? Bright and beautiful enough to blind him? He guesses it would be worth a shot, getting to know you more, because if he’s being honest, he’s intrigued.

--------

The next time Steve sees you it’s at a party. It’s mid-October and the cold weather turns it up a notch with the cold bite to the air. He wouldn’t have gone to the party in the first place, if he’s being honest, but Robin forced him to go. Everyone will be there she’d said but Steve didn’t know who everyone would be. Only when he arrived at Kevin Rotner’s house did he begin to recognize some familiar faces. Nancy, Johnathan, and Eddie arrive at the same time he does and the five of them walk up the driveway and the small path leading to the front porch. There’s loud chatter inside and a boombox playing to the loudest volume in the dinning room. There are people sitting in the staircase laughing at a joke and more loud conversation coming from the backyard. He navigates the house with his friends until Robin spots you in the kitchen, and Steve doesn’t know why he’s so nervous when he sees you. You greet Robin with a hug and shrug when she tells you something, he can hear. Your face is pretty and serious as you look over Robin’s shoulder, spotting everyone else coming to say hi. Steve sees you take a deep breath before you greet everyone — almost as if you’re preparing yourself for small talk and hugs. He greets you last, more open and approachable than last time, and he’s surprised when you wave. “Hi, Steve.”

Something inside Steve jumps, but he thinks it’s only his own surprise. He’s about to say something, when Robin and Nancy take your hand and drag you away with the promise of some new gossip, they have to tell you.

Steve talks to a few people here and there; mostly the ones he’s kept in touch with after high school. Other than that, he doesn’t know anyone else; he doesn’t know if it’s cause he’s grown up but he’s not really having fun. There are people jumping into the pool despite the weather while those who mind the cold have gathered inside the house. Steve’s mostly avoiding the crowds, where the air is too hot despite winter being near, while keeping an eye out for his friends. Nancy and Jonathan are talking to some people he doesn’t know in the kitchen, Robin is trying not to combust while she talks to her crush —her lab partner in biology— and Eddie is walking around the entire party with his lunchbox.

When Steve sees you again, you are people watching in the living room, eyes trained on a few people in the middle of the room. He moves to stand next to you, and you shift your gaze towards him but say nothing; Steve thinks it means it’s okay if you stand here. Your foot taps to the music –Tears for Fears’ Head Over Heels –and your head moves almost imperceptibly to the music. The two of you are quiet for a while, and it’s not awkward like Steve expected it to be, not after the way he messed up at the fair. He’s pleasantly surprised, and relaxes a bit more next to you, slouching slightly against the wall. One of your arms is crossed over your chest while your other elbow rests on it, a red cup in your hand. The music continues to play and your eyes are still trained on the people talking in the living room, they’re some old Hawkins High students Steve kind of recognizes. There’s Angela and Karen, Bradley and Peter and some other people he doesn’t know the names of. Steve leans his weigh on his right leg, which brings him closer to you.

You don’t move away, simply pass him your red cup. Steve moves to shake his head no and say he’s driving, but you speak up before he does. “It’s only soda.” You say and nod at the cup that Steve takes the cup from you shortly after.

“What’re you watching?” Steve asks.

“The only interesting thing that’s going to happen in this party I think.” You look at him finally and lean closer, Steve isn’t sure you’re aware of it. “I think there’s going to be a fight.”

Your eyes hold amusement in them, like you’re excited for what’s about to happen. The tiniest movement of your mouth has Steve glancing down, you’re grinning, barely; he thinks it’s cute.

Steve’s eyebrows raise, interest spiked, and is about to say something when you turn your head again. Bradley is saying something to Angela, his voice loud and slurred but incomprehensible over the music, and not a second later an equally intoxicated Peter swings a punch at him. Another girl, who Steve doesn’t know, confronts Angela they start arguing with Karen joining the fight. Bradley and Peter fall to the ground, wrestling each other while others try to break the fight.

“Wait isn’t she?” Steve’s mind catches up the everything that happened puts two and two together. He’s pretty Angela is dating Bradley, not Peter.

“Yup.” You say with a shrug, tilting your head. “It was all a matter of time before it happened.” It’s all you say, then chuckle. Steve does too, he can’t help himself at the sound of your own laughter, until the two of you are giggling at the fight in front of you.

The music changes then, to something more upbeat, and Steve’s mind can only think about asking you to dance. Would you say yes? Probably not. Before he can ask you though, you step away from the wall. More people have gathered in the living room to watch the fight, and you decide to make your way to the front door. Do crowds bother you? Steve wonders.

“Wait.” Steve goes after you and closes the door behind him. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” Your back is turned to him. The cream-coloured sweater you wear over your lilac skirt and your black boots look lovely on you, and so does your hair. Steve doesn’t know why but he thinks it frames your face perfectly. There’s also a hint of remaining lip-gloss on your lips that shines with the streetlamp’s light… and Steve, well Steve thinks You’re so pretty.

“It’s cold, don’t tell me you’re going to walk.” Steve speaks again, shaking away his previous thoughts.

You shrug, “I usually do, it’s not too far.”

Steve doesn’t know where you live but he knows Rotner lives far away from almost everyone in Hawkins. Your house is probably far away. “I’ll drive you.” Steve offers, but you sigh and look away.

“Go back to the party Steve, you can drive Robin home.” You say simply. “I’ll see you around.”

“No, she can go with Nancy.” He follows you until he’s walking next to you. “It’s not safe for you to walk home, come on.”

You sigh again and look up at the sky, annoyed. If you’re annoyed, then he’s too, because you’re making a dumb decision for the sake of being stubborn. And you probably don’t know that he’s stubborn too, so you might have to argue all night about whether this decision is right or not. Why is it so hard for you to accept a ride home? You offered him soda and were talking to him just now; it was nice. More than nice.

“I won't stop asking.” Steve says, crossing his arms and stepping in front of you.

Your eyes meet his in an intense half-glare, and Steve can’t help but think how nice your eyeliner looks on you. It does something to him he hasn’t felt in a while. He feels like he can’t breathe while heat creeps up the back of his neck —it’s October, he shouldn’t feel hot at all. A moment later you roll your eyes, though backing down first, and giving Steve some time to breathe as you turn around.

“Alright.”

Steve can’t help smiling in triumph, knowing he just won, and follows you as you walk towards his car further down the road. Amusement paints his eyes as he looks at you; your lips are pursed, and a huff escapes you.

“You’re pouting” Steve says, looking at your lips and the annoyed look on your face. It makes him smile. You’re pouting.

“I’m not” You look sideways at him.

“Oh, you are.”

“Shut up, Harrington.” You say and he laughs, opening the passenger’s door for you.

-------

From then on Steve does his best to increase his charm and be a gentleman. He offers you his help as well as rides home whenever he can, especially when you’re alone. The last thing he wants is for you to think that he’s only being nice when your common friends are around. Steve sees you more often now, not as much as he’d like, he must admit, but enough to know more about you. What you’re okay with sharing, more like.

As he suspected from the party, you don’t like crowds (they make you nervous), and when Steve asked why you’d changed the topic. You work at the Deli on Main Street, have a younger brother named Chris, and you love coffee. He always sees you drinking one in the morning when he gives both you and Robin a ride to school, and whenever he stops by at the deli for lunch during your shift. Most important of all, Steve is starting to see what Robin meant when she said not to judge a book based on its cover. Because, despite your grumpy exterior, there’s a whole personality hidden underneath.

Steve can tell. There are hints and pieces; from the way you dress, to the music you like, and comic books you read and often exchange with Max. When he takes the time to look, he sees the gentleness with which you do things, and the care with which you treat your friends. He also sees your distrust for what it is: fear. You’re afraid, to let new people in, to get hurt, and Steve doesn’t know why.

He wishes there was something he could do to fix it, to make you see the glass half full instead of half empty, or to change your sporadic pessimism. But then he figures, he would be changing you, and that’s not something he wants. If he’s being honest, your friend group (Steve isn’t sure if he’s your friend, officially at least) needed someone with an objective outlook on life to set their heads straight. And if he’s honest with himself, he likes all the things that make you you. He likes your confidence when you don’t care what people think about you. He likes it when you fight with Robin over who chooses the music, despite it being his car. And he's pretty much obsessed with your face; the hard set of your jaw when you get impatient, the brow you silently arch that makes him feel things he shouldn’t, and the silent way you listen to conversation, only speaking up when you think it’s necessary. Steve is more than a bit obsessed.

He had been wrong that first day. He didn’t know you and wrongly assumed you weren’t happy to be there with them, when you actually were. He reflects upon it now that he knows your facial expressions; your eyebrows had been relaxed, and your eyes didn’t have a hard edge to them. You had been at ease, only closing yourself off when Steve tried to dig into your move to Hawkins. He really started off with the wrong foot, but it all takes a turn on a Friday night.

You visit FV for a tape mid-afternoon, surprising Steve at work. The weather is more than chilly outside, and Steve notices right away how you have no jacket on, only a dark red sweater. He’d been doing some paperwork behind the counter when the bell over the door for his attention. It rewarded him with the sight of you walking in, looking around before your eyes settle on him.

“Hey, Steve.” You say voice light as you approach him and lean your elbows on the counter. “Do you have karate kid available? My brother is begging us to watch it again tomorrow.”

Steve doesn’t know why but he struggles to speak for a moment —it probably has to do with the fact that you look very pretty, and two, this interaction is so different from your first one he shortcircuits. After a long pause you raise a questioning eyebrow, “You okay?”

Steve clears his throat. “Yeah. Um, we have it, let me go get it.”

“Thank you.” You nod as he dashes away from the counter.

“Did you walk here?” Steve asks once he’s cleared his head and reaches the action movie aisle. He sees you shrug over the stands.

“I usually do, I don’t mind it.” You explain simply.

“You’re not wearing a jacket though.” Steve grabs Karate Kid and goes back to the counter. Why are you always out in the cold without a jacket? It’s a miracle you haven’t fallen sick, he thinks.

“I left school in a rush, I was gonna be late for work.” You shrug again, eyes visibly lighting up when you spot the movie. “Thank God. Chris would have been insufferable if someone beat me to it.”

Steve crouches down behind the counter and retrieves his own jacket —a grey bomber— before placing it on the counter in front of you. “Here.”

“Steve,” You tell him seriously, rolling your eyes. “I’m not taking your jacket.”

“Why not? You’re the one walking out in the cold, I only have to walk towards my car.” He dismisses your refusal with a wave of his hand.

“Hey!” Robin says, calling your name as she emerges from the back room. “Perfect timing, I was going to call you.”

“Here to rent karate kid.” You tell her, a small smile on your face.

“And choosing hypothermia over my jacket.” Steve chimes in, sliding his jacket pointedly towards you.

“It’s not that cold Steve.” You roll your eyes at him again, “But I know you’ll annoy me until I say yes.”

Steve gives you a triumphant smile and you shake your head, Steve would even say it’s shyly, before you take the jacket and shrug it on. “The movie? Please.”

Robin speaks up while Steve rings you up. “We’re gonna hang out at Nancy’s tonight. The kids will be there too, you should come.”

Steve risks a glance at you, in his jacket; a huge mistake. He seriously underestimated his reaction to seeing you in his clothes, because it is downright adorable and something he was unprepared for. The sleeves go past your hands and the whole thing is oversized on you, his shoulders being broader than yours and his torso longer. Steve bites back a smile —he hopes you never give it back to him; this is a sight he’d love to see more often. He turns back to the computer to hide his grin from you and silently hopes you’ll say yes.

“Will there be other people?” You ask Robin, and Steve is quick to shake his head no and reassure you. Too quick.

“Just the usual gang.” Steve tells you, clearing his throat to hide his eagerness. “No one else.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Robin insists with a smile, then moves her gaze towards Steve, who tries to ignore the way she raises a knowing eyebrow at him. He’s gonna have an earful once you leave, he can bet on it.

“Okay, I’ll be there.” You nod, then exchange some cash for the movie Steve hands to you. “Thank you, Steve.”

Steve leans his forearms on the counter, trying to give you his most charming smile to see if he’ll get one of those you give Robin in return. “We’ll pick you up after work.” Steve says and you look into his eyes for a long second before nodding.

“Sure.” You shrug, eyes shifting away from his. “I’ll see you guys later.”

------

At Nancy’s, chaos ensues. The kids argue over what board-game to play while Eddie and Robin argue over what record to play next. Steve is listening to Nancy and Jonathan talk about a volunteering drive she’s organizing and from where he stands, he can see you leaning against the wall next to Robin. Your face is neutral as you listen to the record that’s currently playing, tuning out Eddie’s argument for the most part until you speak up.

“Or you can let me choose?” You ask calmly, glancing at them briefly before going back to looking down at your feet.

“No!” Both Eddie and Robin say at the same time, and Steve notices the corner of your mouth twitch upwards.

“You chose this one, buttercup.” Eddie says with a sigh. “You’re only gonna choose one to annoy us.”

This earns Eddie an eye roll. “How exactly do you know that?” You ask. “It could’ve been a great pick, now you’ll never know Munson.”

Steve tries to tune back into Nancy’s explanation when Max pushes the board game she wanted to play away with a huff. It clatters to the ground as she stands from her place in front of the coffee table. You spot her and call her name only a moment later.

“Hey Max, I got the new Wonder Woman!” You say after a moment when the read-head stops glaring daggers at the boys.

Her eyes light up, a dramatic change from the look in her eyes moments ago. “Really? Can I see it?”

“‘Course, I brought it for you.” You roll your eyes, this time full of fondness, and nod towards the kitchen. “It’s in my bag.”

Steve can’t follow your conversation because the doorbell rings, signalling the pizza Nancy ordered arrived. The weather feels much colder than earlier as he opens the door and steps outside, he pays for the pizza, tips the delivery guy and goes back inside. Arms full of pizza boxes, he walks back to the dining table, shooting a pointed look at Dustin and Mike. “Zip it or you don’t get a single slice.”

The high schoolers move more discarded boardgames away from the table in a heartbeat, scrambling to undo their mess and opening the pizza boxes in a hurry. Steve spots you still standing in the kitchen talking to Max as everyone helps themselves to pizza and decides to let you both know the food is ready.

“So, you skate too?” Max is asking you excitedly, leaning her hip against the kitchen counter.

You chuckle — it hits Steve in the chest and Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. “I do,” You grin, “I mean I used to when I lived in Indianapolis, but I haven’t since I moved here.”

“We can go to the skate-park tomorrow.” Max proposes raising her eyebrows, “If you want.”

You nod, “Sure. I’ll look for my skateboard tonight, let’s hope I still remember how to use it.”

“Pizza’s here.” Steve says, interrupting and smiling at you both. When your eyes meet his, your lips move to smile but in a matter of seconds you stop yourself.

It makes Steve furrow his brows and walk over to you as Max leaves to grab a slice. “You okay?” Steve asks, and your eyes meet his again briefly before they dart away as you sidestep him.

You make your way to the front door in a rush, this time though you do grab your jacket—his jacket— on the way. Just like he did the night of the party, Steve follows you, worried and confused at your reaction. Robin glances at him from the dining table, an unspoken question in her eyes but Steve can only shrug. He is certain he didn’t do anything wrong just now, but somehow, he messed up because you just fled from him.

“Stop.” Steve says after calling your name. “What happened?”

“Nothing, I just need some air. You should go back inside Steve.” Your back is to him, shoulders tense and close to your ears defensively.

“No,” He shakes his head. His lips go down into a frown briefly as he looks at your back. He voices the question he always asks himself when you shut him down. “Did I do something?”

“No.” You say when you turn, eyebrows meeting in the middle as you glare at him but Steve sees the way you struggle to hold it in place. After a second it falls, and your face just crumples to exhausted look. “I want to be alone.” You whisper.

“You think a glare and a pout are intimidating enough to drive me away?” Steve shakes his head.

“I don’t pout.” You say, lips pursed and jaw tense. Pouting.

“You do and it’s not working.”

You change tactics then, raising an eyebrow and staring him down like the night at the party but Steve shakes his head. “That’s not working either.”

“Why are you insisting so much on this!” You finally ask, raising your voice and crossing your arms in front of you. Your jaw clenches as you look away and Steve sees your eyes squeeze shut.

He runs a hand down his face and breathes out. “Whether you like it or not there are people who want to get to know you.”

“What, like you?” Your eyes cut a suspicious look Steve’s way and he can see your walls come back up right in front of him. A tear falls down your cheek and you’re quick to wipe it away, harshly. “Why?”

Steve throws his hands up in the air, exasperated but not raising his voice, “To be your friend! Just like Robin and Eddie are your friends.” His shoulders move up and down, trying to cover up how much he likes you and looks forward to your company. “Why are you so distrustful, is it something I did?”

“It’s not about you, Steve.” Your eyebrows meet in the middle again, and you look away from him, directing your gaze to the snow-covered lawn. “If… If it bothers you so much, why do you even want to be my friend? Because you’re wrong Steve. No one else does, and I’m more than fine with that.”

Steve shakes his head, knowing you’re lying to him and trying to convince yourself. His voice softens. “Because despite it, I like you, I think you’re… cool.”

“Cool?” The way you raise your eyebrows makes Steve chuckle.

Funny, caring, fucking beautiful, Steve wants to say but he just nods his head at your question.

“Yeah, and you’re interesting, and I… want to be your friend.” Steve’s hands settle on his hips as he shifts his weigh to one leg, looking down to the ground. Glancing at you briefly, he drops his voice to whisper your name. “Don’t leave. I’m not lying… that’s what worries you right?”

Steve assumes that’s where your distrust comes from; you told him it wasn’t something he did, then it must be that you’re scared to trust him. He’s known there are many feelings behind your hard exterior, one of them being fear. Steve doesn’t want you to fear him, and he wonders who broke your trust in the past. Silence settles between the two of you; you seem to be going over his words and Steve is giving you the time to do so. He’d wait an hour if necessary and reassure you a thousand times if it would mean you believe him. Steve panics when he sees you swallow hard and shift your eyes at the sky, the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry.

But you don’t cry. Instead, you take a deep breath and look into his eyes. There’s a vulnerability there that awakens an urge in Steve to hug you. “You promise?” Your voice is a whisper, but he hears you clear as day. You’ve never spoken so softly before, and Steve wishes it could have happened under other circumstances.

Steve looks into your eyes and nods with sincerity, hoping you can see he’s being completely honest with you. “Yes.”

“I do like you, Steve. You just scare me.” You look down at the ground for a moment and nod to yourself as Steve’s eyebrows shoot hop in surprise. A moment later, your eyes drift back to Steve and there are emotions dancing around in them he’s never seen before. “I’m sorry.”

Steve nods and something inside him tightens when you offer a small smile. It’s like something shifts between the two of you despite neither of you moving. In a matter of seconds, everything feels easy, natural, like the brief moment your shared at the party in October. Steve realizes it’s because you’ve let your guard down; you stand differently in front of him, more comfortable, less apprehensive. You scare me. “You wanna tell me why?”

You press your lips together and shake your head. “Another time, maybe?”

Steve tries to hold back a smile, but he can’t, it takes over his entire face. When he sees you shiver, he offers his hand. “Let’s go back inside, or I can drive you home if you want to leave.”

“I can stay a bit longer.” You say when you grab his hand –an electric shock goes up his arm. “I really want some pizza. But if they play Monopoly I’m definitely leaving.”

Steve’s laughter follows you as he leads the two of you back to the house.

The coffee cup Steve places in front of you at work the next Monday lands with a soft thud on the counter. It’s black coffee with some milk and sugar; the way Steve’s learned you take it every day. The sound and his presence make you look up at him over the top of your book, a doubtful eyebrow raised and a serious look on your face. Fuck your pretty, Steve thinks. Your eyes shift from the coffee to his face a couple of times before you close your book.

“What’s this?” You ask, leaning back on your seat and tilting your head.

Steve leans his elbows on the counter in front of you and tilts his head right back. “Considering you drink around 5 of these a day, one would think you’ll know what it is.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re mistaken. I actually drink 10.” You deadpan, looking at him with fake disappointment. “I thought you knew me, now that we’re friends and all.”

Steve laughs, looks down and shakes his head. When he looks at you again, there’s a half smile on your face. “Come on.” He says. “Let’s go grab some food.”

“I literally work at a deli, Steve.” You tell Steve seriously, motioning to your surroundings. “We’re surrounded by food.”

Steve copies what you just said with a roll of his eyes and smiles again. “I mean something else, babe. Come on.”

With a sigh you stand up from your seat and round the counter, leaving your apron behind. “You’re lucky I get a break in a couple of minutes.” You tell Steve before yelling over your shoulder. “Hank I’ll be back!”

Steve’s eyes light up and he considers his visit a triumph. He’s becoming surer and surer his feelings for you go beyond friendship and fondness and lean more towards: I want to hold your hand all the time, and cuddle you while we watch movies then forget about the movie and get lost on you. He wants to put his arm around your shoulder freely, have you lean your weigh against him and steal a kiss, probably more than one. No. It won’t ever happen so Steve shouldn’t even be thinking about it. He opens the passenger’s door to his car for you and smiles when you get in, your coffee in your hand.

It becomes a routine of sorts, either you visit him at Family Video bringing sandwiches for him and Robin or he picks you up, a coffee waiting for you in his car and drives you wherever feels right that day to eat your lunch. You talk about your day, or whatever gossip you heard that day. One day you even confessed to be scared about graduation.

“Everyone is so excited to finish school, and here I am so terrified about the future I haven’t opened any of my college application letters.” You muttered, picking at a loose thread on your sweater.

“Why are you scared?” Steve asked you and you swallow hard.

You turned your body on your seat, facing him as you shrugged. “I feel lost, I don’t know what I should major in. I also don’t know where I’d like to go, and I can't even research these colleges without panic settling on my chest.” Your eyebrows furrowed and your jaw got tense and Steve knew that meant you felt angry and this time it was at yourself.

Steve took your hand without a second thought, but you let him. “You know, you don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

“It feels like it.” You whispered looking at him, frustration and embarrassment shining in your eyes. “Everyone else has it figured out.”

Steve shook his head; you shouldn’t feel embarrassed with him. “If there’s something I’ve learned about you, is that you don’t care about what other people are doing. What do you want?”

“I ask myself that question every day.” You mirrored his head shake and looked away. “Let’s talk about something else. Please?”

Steve was happy to change the subject, anything to cheer you up. By the time you go back to the Deli to continue your shift, he realized it was the first personal thing you’ve told him. Ever. It made him happier than he cared to admit.

-----

Two months after your talk in Nancy’s driveway, you invite Robin, Nancy, Eddie, Jonathan and Steve to your house. It’s the first time you’ve let anyone other than Robin into your home, this time for movie night. Your father and brother went back to Indianapolis to pick up other stuff from your old house, you said, it’s perfect timing. Steve and Robin arrive together, and shortly afterwards Eddie’s knocking on the door.

Your house is cozy and simply decorated with a forest green comfy looking couch, a dark brown coffee table and a TV in the living room and all the basic stuff in both the dining room and kitchen. There’s a record playing somewhere, and Steve can’t help the smile that comes to his face when he sees the way you’re mouthing the words as you move back and for the between the kitchen and living room bringing snacks, drinks and pizza for everyone. You’re wearing a cream-coloured sweater he recognizes from the party back in October and something funny happens in his stomach when he realizes just how far your friendship’s evolved since then.

“Babe come on take a break, we can help.” Steve stops you from going back to the kitchen with a hand on your shoulder and a fond look on his face.

You open your mouth to say something when Eddie and Robin appear on either side of you, presenting the movies they –surprisingly– were in charge to pick. “The best horror movies.” They say in unison.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as you take the three VHS tapes from them. “Oh. Um, great! Thank you.” Your reaction hides behind the grin you shoot both, who nod and disappear to the kitchen.

“You’re pouting.” Steve says stepping closer to you again in the living room; your eyes that were fixed on the VHS tapes drift upwards to meet his own. Steve smiles.

“I’m not pouting.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes, lips settling back into a pout as you scan the titles of the movies once more. “These are just scary.”

“You’re still pouting.” Steve whispers, like it’s a secret. His eyes drift down to your lips, a mistake that has him swallowing hard, before the doorbell rings, signalling Johnathan and Nancy arrived. He’s quick to turn and go let them in. It’s a perfectly timed distraction. He shouldn’t think about kissing you, because despite no matter how badly he wants to, you’d never let it happen, or feel the same way he does to let it happen. “Just saying!”

Once the first movie plays, Eddie and Robin settle on one end of the couch, while Nancy and Johnathan sit on the floor in front of them. Steve shoots Robin a I know what you’re doing look before sitting next to her and feeling the couch dip under your weigh when you settle on the empty seat next to him. A sweet floral scent he now recognizes as your shampoo or your perfume reaches him and Steve actively decides to focus on the movie, not the way he wants to pull you over his lap and breathe you in. Eddie and Robin laugh every now and then and the four of you turn to look at them, there’s nothing funny about the movie. You begin covering your face with the bucket of popcorn as the movie progresses, your face grimacing as the suspenseful music picks up.

Steve leans closer to you, his voice a whisper as he speaks. “It’s just special effects don’t worry about it.” You turn to look at him, worried puppy dog eyes gazing into him and dammit you make it so hard to keep his distance. “Trust me.” Steve winks, lightening the mood only to jump and scream when he turns to the movie once more and a jump scare comes on.

It seems like the perfect medicine for your fear. For you forget about it and lean your head back laughing, a full-on belly laugh, that’s so contagious and beautiful Steve laughs with you. Nancy and Robin share a knowing look he doesn’t notice before they shush the two of you, shoving at his elbow and your knee. You cover your mouth with your hand and your shoulders shake as you lean your head on Steve’s shoulder, turning your body towards his; Steve’s never been so happy to be scared in his life.

Everyone leaves after 3 movies. Robin gets a ride with Eddie, and Nancy leaves with Jonathan as well. Steve though, stays behind insisting on helping you clean up, but it’s a weak excuse to check on you before he leaves. He noticed you getting nervous, fidgeting with your hands anxiously when everyone started to leave. The films were long done, so Steve knows something else is worrying you and it doesn’t sit well in his heart to leave you like this. Which is why he is currently picking up trash in the living room while you do the same in the kitchen.

You’re finishing placing the dirty dishes in the sink when Steve enters the room. He noticed right away the way your shoulders hunch and you take a deep breath. “Steve…”

“You okay?” Steve closes the trash bag and moves to the sink. His eyes roam your face as he looks sideways at you and washes his hands.

“I um… I wanted to apologize to you.” You tell him quietly, passing him a kitchen towel before moving away from the sink. “For how closed-off I was when you met me.”

After drying his hands quickly, Steve turns and leans on the edge of the sink. “It’s okay, it’s not easy to trust new people right away.” He reassures you –it’s something he understands now; he understands you.

You sit on the counter opposite to him and stare at the floor for a bit, polka dot sock clad feet dangling in the air. “It’s more than that. I’m just scared of getting close to people since…”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Steve shakes his head, keeping his eyes on your face.

“I trust you, Steve.”

Those four words make Steve’s chest flutter –relief, happiness, nerves– but he pushes the feeling to the back of his mind and patiently waits for you to continue. Your lips are pursed as you stare at the floor, gathering your thoughts.

“My mom…” You swallow, getting chocked up with those to words but soldiering on. With a shake of your head, you look up to the ceiling and will your tears away. “My mom left my dad, brother and I last April. She’d been cheating on dad for years… and that’s not even the worst part.”

You wipe your eyes quickly, lips pulled downwards into a deep frown when you pause again –an upside-down U Steve wishes he could smooth out with his thumb. But he stays where he stands and lets you continue.

“The other man was married too” Your eyes find Steve’s and where there’s usually a spark –like that night at the party– there’s only sadness directed at the memory. “He’s the father of a popular kid at my old high school, so you can guess what happened when everyone found out.”

Steve’s mouths opens again and this time a soft no escapes him.

You press your lips together and nod, “So not only did the news wreck our home… they made life at school unbearable for my brother and I. People who I thought were my friends just threw me away as if I was trash for something I didn’t do. Something I had no fault in.”

“Is that why you moved here?” Steve asks softly, walking closer to you. The answer to the question he asked many months ago, right in front of him and it doesn’t make him feel any satisfaction. No, it hurts him to know this. Moving away from everything you’ve known and starting over again during senior year sounds brutal.

“Yes.” You whisper and close your eyes briefly; more tears fall down your cheeks and Steve’s heart aches. Teary eyes move away from his and fix themselves on the kitchen window instead, your lips are pressed so hard against each other they’re losing colour. “She packed her bags right after school the day we found out. We saw her leave with that man, no other explanation, not even a goodbye or a note. Everyone except my dad and my brother decided to leave me that day.”

A sob escapes you then, finally breaking free and shaking your whole body; another one replaces it once it stops. Your hands move from the counter to your face, covering it as cries continue to escape you in succession. Steve wastes no time and walks to stand in front of you; he hates seeing you in so much pain. God, it must have hurt so much, just being left behind like that. His hands move to your hips and gently urge you to hop off the counter before he wraps you up in his arms. His shoulders shake with the force of your sobs as you cling to him.

“Stevie.” Your hands are bunched up in the back of his polo, holding onto him like a lifeline.

Steve can’t even relish the sound of your calling him Stevie so softly. He swallows hard as he witnesses the pain, you have felt inside of you for so long. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers.

“She left us, Steve. She just disappeared and left us grieving her despite her being alive.” You say between your tears, they soak the right side of his shirt, but Steve couldn’t care less, his arms just tighten around your waist. “She’d been pushing us away for years, treating us like garbage and now I can see it’s because we weren’t good enough for her anymore. She didn’t love any of us anymore. We… we didn’t make her happy.”

Your voice sounds hoarse from crying, and your hands tighten behind Steve’s back. When you bury your face in his chest, Steve hunches his shoulders and forms a cocoon to protect you from the past. His protective nature takes over as he holds you flush against him; his hand moves up and down your back firmly –you need to know he’s there, that he’s got you. Steve puts his cheek over your head and whispers his next words. “I’ve got you; you can cry as much as you need to, I’m not going anywhere.”

It takes a few minutes, but your sobs soon transform into soft sniffles even as you press yourself closer to him. Steve doesn’t want to upset you anymore, but he’s itching to comfort you and let you know what he wishes someone had told him years ago. “I know my own shit experience with my parents isn’t the same as what you went through.” He starts, taking a small step back so he can look at you.

His fingers take a gentle hold of your face until puffy and teary eyes meet his; Steve wipes away some stray tears. “But what your mom did to you doesn’t say anything about you alright? You’re more than good enough for anyone. If she didn’t see that, then she made the worst mistake of her life.”

You close your eyes at his words and look away, but Steve shakes his head and urges you to face him again with a whisper of your name. “You don’t have to prove your worth to anyone because your mother left. All of us see it, and we’re so lucky to have you here.”

Steve’s thumb catches more tears as your lips begins to tremble again. “I’m so fucking lucky that you trust me, and I understand why you didn’t at first, okay? I understand you.”

Your hands on his waist tighten again as your forehead drops to his right shoulder. “I didn’t used to be like this… I’m sorry that this is the me that you met.”

Steve shakes his head, sure that you feel it when he does, and pulls you flush to his chest again. Is this how you’ve felt since last summer? He wonders. Like this version of yourself is wrong or unlikable.

Sure, you’re not a smiley person, but that makes your rare smiles even more special –and they drive Steve crazy. You see the glass half-empty most times to protect yourself if things do indeed go to shit, but you also recognize genuine goodness. You don’t hesitate to encourage or celebrate everyone else’s happiness; he’s seen it firsthand, with the kids, with Robin and even himself. Steve doesn’t think he could ever get tired of your dark humour or that pretty pout that settles on your lips when you get annoyed, not to mention that making you laugh is his favorite thing in the world. Steve understands your anxiety and panic at your college decision, you don’t want another change; you don’t want to choose something you don’t like and face another disappointment again. Most of all, Steve finally understands your hesitance and the root of your gruff exterior, and he wouldn’t change a thing about it. He’s stupid in love with you; your grumpy and soft looks; your frowns and your smiles; your heart; and that tender way you’re holding onto him right now.

Steve places a kiss to the side of your head to keep himself from saying all of this out loud –it’s not the right time, not yet. Instead, he whispers above your ear, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

For a moment, stillness surrounds the two of you in the kitchen and there’s no other sound but your quiet sniffles against Steve’s shirt again. Steve doesn’t mind, he’s happy to hold you for as long as you need, which ends up being five more minutes. You take a step back and look at him with those pretty eyes of yours; they’re teary and red-rimmed but lovely all the same.

“Thank you, Steve.” You whisper, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips until your gaze drops to his shirt and embarrassment shines in your eyes. “Sorry I cried all over you.”

“I don’t mind.” Steve shrugs and looks at you softly, hands still on your waist. “I think I know what we should do.”

You look at him curiously. “About what?”

“To cheer you up.”

The head shake you give him is immediate, just as he imagined. “I don’t–”

“You deserve a happy life.” Steve states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and sends a wink your way hoping to amuse you. “And I think, ice cream is a good way to start. I should know, I worked at an ice cream shop remember.”

He leaves your side and walks over to the freezer to grab the ice cream he saw earlier that night when he got up mid-movie to get more ice. It’s cookie dough ice cream, which he knows to be your favourite –he’s known since that first night he met you. Knowing he’s completely serious now, your eyes stare into his eyes for a moment before you turn and grab two spoons from a kitchen drawer.

“I guess we’re having ice cream then. Considering you’re an expert.” You say with an eye roll Steve can only describe as fond when you approach him again. A moment later, you sit on the counter and Steve follows suit, sitting next to you. “Spoon?”

“Thank you.” Steve says and takes it from you after opening the ice cream tub. He offers the tub to you first, letting you scoop some ice cream with your spoon which you pop in your mouth. Your arms brush from how close you’re sitting, and Steve has to lean forward to look at you, but he doesn’t mind. He’s happy with the proximity.

A sigh escapes you and you close your eyes as you savour the ice cream. Steve feels heat creep up the back of his neck at the sound, but he shakes the feeling off; you’re only eating ice cream, to make you feel better. “You were right Harrington, this is like medicine.”

“Told you, I’m an expert.” Steve chuckles and eats his own spoonful, the creamy ice cream melting in his tongue before he laughs as you search for the cookie dough in the tub. “This is going to be just plain vanilla ice cream if you keep doing that.”

“Finders keepers.” You tell him with a shrug as you bring the cookie dough to your mouth. “It’s arguably the best part of this ice cream.”

“You’re supposed to eat the ice cream with it!” Steve argues, holding the tub away from your reach. “I want cookie dough too you know.”

You roll your eyes at him, but there’s a soft look on your face as you look at him and nod. The two of you go back to eating ice cream in silence until Steve speaks up again. There are so many things he wants to know about you still –he thinks he’ll always want to know more. “What’s something you miss from living in Indianapolis?”

You pause mid-scoop and concentrate for a few moments going over his question. A moment later a tiny smile makes its way to your lips. “There used to be a wonderful campsite my dad used to take my brother and I; we’d camp for three days and do all sort of activities.”

Steve smiles. “Like what?”

“Dad and Chris love fishing, so we’d do that. There was also hiking, swimming, s’mores. Oh! We’d all tell each other stories sitting next to the fire. They were all completely made up of course, and I think the more ridiculous they were, the more fun we had.”

Your eyes wander around the kitchen, like you’re back in the forest with your family and not next to Steve anymore. Light dances in your eyes and Steve can almost picture the three of you laughing around the fire as the catch of the day roasts on a grill nearby. He knows better than to ask about your mother, he’s got a pretty good idea what the answer would be. Besides, you’ve cried enough already, so much that Steve’s own heart feels bruised from seeing you in pain.

“You haven’t camped here in Hawkins?” Steve asks after a minute, voice quiet to avoid disturbing your memory.

You shake your head and sigh, the mirage in front of you disappearing as your eyes drift back to Steve’s. “Dad’s not the same person he was during those camping trips… he hasn’t scouted a good place for us to go. I don’t think he even wants to go camping anymore.”

Steve puts the ice cream tub on the counter and takes your hand instead. “Maybe we could go camping someday, invite everyone, have fun…”

Your head moves to rest on his shoulder, the dizzying smell of your shampoo and perfume reaching Steve’s nose at the proximity. He leans his cheek on top of your head and feels the faint nod you give him. “Maybe.”

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, your hand still in Steve’s grasp. Until he gives it a squeeze that makes you jump, as if you forgot you were holding hands in the first place. Steve chuckles. “What?”

Your head leaves his shoulder in an instant and for a second Steve is sure you’re going to hide behind your walls again, like you did so many months ago. His fear though, is replaced with concern when you hop off the counter and check the time with a frown.

“Babe come on, what’s going on?” He hops off the counter and stands in front of you. His eyes search yours until finally your gaze meets his, your embarrassment clear in them.

“I just hate being home alone at night. It makes me anxious.” Your hands fidget in front of you, as if you’re waiting for Steve to laugh at you. Oh, so that’s why you were nervous earlier. “I can’t sleep. At all.”

He looks down at his watch and sees that it’s midnight already. “I don’t mind staying over.” Bringing his eyes back to yours, he speaks up again. “Would that make you feel better?”

You close your eyes and let out a shaky exhale before you nod. “A lot better.” When your eyes open again, they’re full of gratefulness and surprise, as if Steve wouldn’t do anything for you.

A smile grows on Steve’s face, and he takes your hand before you can thank him, threading your fingers together as he speaks. “Come on, you’re probably tired.”

Steve, however, is everything but tired. His heart is racing at the thought of spending the night here with you. You’ve never spent so much time together in a day, he’s never seen your bedroom, and there’s something about this impromptu sleepover that makes heat creep up the back of his neck. No. He’s here to give you emotional support; you were so anxious earlier and there’s nothing he wants more than to see you happy and comfortable. If staying here, despite it sending his feelings into a frenzy, is the key for you to rest then so be it. He can stay for one night.

You don’t let go of his hand as you lead him upstairs, passing various pictures of you and your family that hang from the wall opposite the handrail. There are three bedrooms upstairs and yours is the last one down the hall, its view towards the backyard. You open the door a moment later and let go of his hand as you step inside. Now that he’s here, Steve remembers neither of you made sure the doors were locked downstairs. He should do that.

“I’m going to take a shower.” You tell him as you walk towards your dresser.

Steve nods and swallows hard, using the excuse of your safety to be downstairs while that happens. “We forgot to lock everything downstairs. I’ll go do that.”

“Oh, right.” You press your palm to your forehead; Steve can see you reprimand yourself. “Thank you, Steve.”

“No problem.” Steve is quick to shake his head as he takes a step back from the room. “I’ll be right back.”

Once Steve is back downstairs, he makes sure to check the windows and lock the front door. He fiddles with the light switches for a while before he finds the right ones and turns the lights off. The whole process takes him less than five minutes, and the shower is still running when he’s back in your room. With a deep breath he finally looks around, gazing through a metaphorical window into your world, which he surprisingly already knew a lot of. The pastel walls make him smile, and he walks along the furthermost wall where various posters have been hung –all bands and singers Robin and you have played in his car. There’s a small vanity by the closet next to the bathroom, full of tiny bottles and a couple of lip-gloss tubes. Steve also spots a purple bottle of perfume on top, and a grin makes its way to his face –that’s the one that drives him crazy, he’s sure of it. He’s about to move closer and look at the pictures you’ve pasted in the vanity’s mirror, but he’s startled to a stop when you speak.

“I left a shirt for you to sleep in, if you want it.” You say and Steve turns around.

His heart summersaults when he sees you, fresh dewy face, hair out of your face, an oversized grey t-shirt with a pink Queen logo on the front and pink cotton sleeping pants. The overhead light of the bathroom makes a small rectangle in the carpeted floor, and some steam from your shower still circles around behind you. It takes all Steve’s self-control to stay where he is and not walk up to you and pull you into his arms; no tears between you this time, just Steve holding you the way he wishes he could all the time. He looks at the t-shirt you left on your bed to distract himself and laughs when he notices the colour.

“How’d you guess I love pink?” Steve asks you, glancing your way as he walks towards the bed and holds up the t-shirt. It’s very oversized like yours, and it has a black and fuchsia print of Blondie’s lead singer on it.

“Dunno, just thought it would suit you.” you chuckle, and Steve sees you hold back a smile as you point towards the bathroom. “There’s a spare toothbrush on the sink.”

Steve nods and hurries to the bathroom, lest you notice him blushing. He finds the toothbrush instantly and proceeds to brush his teeth, and though he doesn’t know why, Steve feels extremely happy to know both of you use the same toothpaste. He glances around and looks at all the details that are entirely yours around the room. There are some facial creams on a shelf next to the mirror, a vanilla scented hand soap on the sink, and a look towards the shower shows him two purple and pink shampoo and conditioner bottles –the ones that make your hair smell like flowers. Steve rinses his mouth, then takes off his sweater and jeans before he puts on the pink t-shirt you gave him and, like a freak, smells it to find that somehow your scent still lingers in the soft cotton.

If he was panicking before, he’s panicking even more now. He’s obsessed with you, he realizes, stupidly head over the heels and all of this is making it worse; lying on a bed next to you will make it so much worse. He’s got to pull himself together. He’s doing this because of fear of being home alone, that’s all. He can sleep alongside you for a night without making a fool of himself –or worse, accidentally confess his feelings. So, pushing all bed related thoughts to the back of his mind, he walks out of the bathroom to find you already under your duvet in bed.

Not letting himself think too much about it, Steve turns off the lamp on your nightstand and slips under the duvet too. He keeps his body still, tense more accurately, as he lies next to you. That is until you turn to face him, and he immediately does too, like a magnet naturally attracted to you.

“Do you ever fear that you’ll wake up one day and everyone you know will be gone?” you whisper in the dark; your voice is almost silent, but Steve hears you loud and clear with how close he is to you. The minty smell of your toothpaste mingles with his own breath. Is this how things are going to be between you now, deep conversations and secrets you only trust to each other? He really hopes so.

Steve shakes his head, trying to make out your face in the dark as his heart constricts in his chest. “No,” he says just as quietly, “But sometimes I’m afraid that something terrible will happen and I won’t be able to help.”

Steve closes his eyes and exhales through his nose as he voices one of his fears for the first time. He’s sure that everything that happened in the Upside Down that they managed to fix was thanks to the brains in his friend group. Steve is all physical strength, which has proved useful in the past, but against monsters or whatever the hell could come next, he’s not sure it will be enough. The thought of being useless like that and everyone suffering because of it terrifies him. Even more now that you’re a part of said friend group. He’s sure of one thing though, he’d protect you and all his friends no matter what.

Your hand slowly moves to his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Knowing you, Steve, I’m a thousand percent sure you’d find a way to help. Your stubbornness can be a good thing.”

A breathy chuckle leaves him as your words punch the air out of him. He’s silent for a moment, scrambling for something reassuring to say back. Words aren’t his forte, not unless he’s flirting. He’d rather pull you close to him and comfort you that way, the way he did in the kitchen. “You know… if we were to disappear for whatever reason, you can bet I’d fight my way to you. You won’t be alone.”

Steve sees you nod your head in the dark, his only sign that you haven’t fallen asleep yet. Your hand goes back to your side, in front of his before you stifle a yawn. Assuming your eyes are tired from all their crying, Steve moves his hand to cup your cheek gently.

“Go to sleep, you need to rest.” He whispers; he wants to give you more comfort, pull you close and rub your back until you fall asleep. He doesn’t because he can’t, that would make things weird.

“Thank you for staying with me.” You whisper back.

Remaining silent to avoid saying something that’d give away just how deep his feelings for you run, or the fact that the opportunity to be lying here next to you is something he should be thankful for, he only rubs his thumb softly on your cheek once more before letting go. With another yawn you turn around, your back facing Steve as you whisper goodnight.

Steve doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but he knows he sleeps more peacefully than he has in a while. Not that he doesn’t sleep well often, but most days his dreamless sleep is a result of the exhaustion of the day and not peacefulness. Last night though, there were no nightmares, no tossing and turning, just a distant dream of a campfire in the woods, fireflies, and a silhouette standing peacefully by the water. At some point, early in the morning, he finds himself waking to the light sneaking into the room from a small gap in the tulle curtains. His eyes that were too sleepy to open, blink awake at the awareness that you’re in his arms. Lovely floral scent and cozy softness pressed to him.

It seems that during the night, you’d shifted to your side and burrowed yourself on his chest, an arm around his waist and leg thrown over his hip. His left arm is around you, settled between your shoulder blades, holding you to him. He lifts it and checks his watch, barely 6am but Steve knows he should go. The last thing he wants is your father getting back home and finding him in your bed. Steve doesn’t know him and that’s not the first impression he’s looking for. Besides, there’s a pressing problem in his briefs, that has appeared from being tangled up with you, that he needs to hide in his jeans before you notice. Shifting his hips way from you he looks down at your sleeping face, brushing hair away from your face before he whispers your name.

“Hmm,” You frown, eyes still closed. “What?”

“You’re a cuddler,” Steve says as he smiles; it’s something that should surprise him, but it doesn’t. Not at all.

“I’m not.” You mumble and, contradicting yourself, press closer to him.

“Yes, you are.” He chuckles, shifting his hips backwards again. “I have to go.”

You frown but move away from him, turning and facing away. “Why?”

Steve slips from bed and puts his jeans back on, adjust himself, before pulling his sweater over his head and on top of the pink t-shirt. Call him a lovestruck fool, but he’s not giving it back. “I don’t know when your dad’s gonna be back, I don’t want him to find a boy he doesn’t know in your bed.”

You chuckle, then yawn as you shift and sit up in bed. Steve stares at you longer than he should. His eyes take in your messy hair and your still puffy eyes from all your crying the night before. He smiles widely.

“I have drool on my face, don’t I?” You sigh, moving the back of your hand to the corner of your mouth.

Steve laughs and shakes his head. “No, you don’t; you look pretty that’s all.”

His words reward him with an eyeroll and a headshake before you stand up. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

You remain silent as the two of you walk side by side all the way down to the front door. Steve takes his car keys, and you move to open the door, but pause after a moment. Steve’s eyes look into yours as he wonders if there’s something wrong but when your eyes shift up to him, a small smile settles on your lips. Next thing Steve knows, your arms go around him in a hug.

He can’t help but sigh at the feeling and leaning his cheek on top of your head. “You okay?”

You nod and look up at him. “Thank you, Steve.” You say, stepping on the tip of your toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t thank me.” Steve smiles, letting his arms fall to his sides as his heart skips several beats. “Wanna get a coffee later?”

Is he bribing you with caffeine just to see you again? Of course, he is. Steve is charming, and he has a lot of work to do if he wants to make a move soon.

“Only if I get to pay.” You raise an eyebrow but smile nonetheless, that rare big smile he loves.

Steve huffs and opens the door. “Sure, babe.” He says though he knows you don’t believe him.

He walks to his car when you nod –heart pounding– and smiles as he drives away. Your figure on the rear-view mirror watches him leave until he turns at the end of the driveway. Steve leans his elbow on the door, his hand settling over his mouth as he thinks about the events of last night and this morning. Hope fills his chest, and Steve feels like this is the beginning of something really good for both of you.

---

There’s a small shift in your dynamic after that late night conversation in your kitchen. It’s like almost as if it brought you both closer: like a barrier breaking between you and Steve. Steve knows he should take it slow, that he should better conceal his feelings to avoid scaring you off. But another part of Steve wants to throw caution to the wind because there’s been a change in you too. I trust you, Steve, you’d said, and it shows. In the way you sit closer to him, how you give away more pieces of your past and yourself when you talk. There’s less apprehension and more curiosity from both of you and Steve can’t help but fall and fall and fall. He only hopes it doesn’t end up with him crashing down painfully.

The two of you make a new habit of visiting a small the café on the weekends; you sitting sideways on the couch and Steve talking nonsense to make you laugh. It starts the day after the sleepover, and the two of you use it as time to catch up on the events of the week. It delights him; every Saturday, he wants nothing more than to lean close and kiss your smile, the one he never thought he’d be at the receiving end of. You have bad days too, days in which Steve knows you’ve been crying, days where all you want to do is sit in silence with him. Steve doesn’t mind, at all, in fact he loves all your mood equally and now that he knows the backstory of what you went through, he offers you the quiet reassurance of his presence next to you, so you know you’re not alone.

Weeks pass like this, until winter leaves and spring comes. Overnight, the breeze has no bite to it anymore, the flowers bloom again and you begin to wear the prettiest floral dresses that give Steve a whole new reason to be obsessed with you.

“You two are adorable; when are you going to tell her, dingus?”

Steve and Robin had stopped by the Deli to get something to eat during their lunch break while you were on your lunch break too. The three of you had spent the 30 minutes talking between bites of your own sandwiches until the moment Steve had to drive away and you had to go back to your shift. He hears Robins words but his eyes follow your retreating figure until you’re out of sight –his mind is begging him to find you and steal a kiss just so he doesn’t go crazy. Robin snaps her fingers in front of his face and laughs when Steve startles. He rolls his eyes and gets in the car while Robin asks him the same question again.

Steve rolls his eyes again, “Tell her what?”

“That you’re obsessed with her dummy!” Robin hits his arm, Steve sends her an annoyed look, “You love her come on, you have to tell her.”

“No, I can’t.” He’s been thinking about it more often now. Keeping it to himself has been almost impossible lately and he knows he should do it before he breaks.

“Yes, you can, and you have to.” Robin asserts, setting her converse on the dashboard. “She clearly feels the same way.”

“She doesn’t.” Steve’s answer is instant as he focuses on the road and getting back to FV, his fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard they turn white. It’s a half-lie, and they both know it.

“She does and you know it.” Out of the corner of his eye he sees Robin shake her head. “The way she looks at you Steve… it’s unbearable to watch, coming from her.”

Steve knows it, he’s seen that change. He’s felt the pitter patter of his heart, the way his hands shake when you look at him like that, like he’s all you want. But Steve is a coward in denial, he doesn’t want to assume wrong and send you running away from him. But if Robin’s seen it… “You really think so?” He says as he parks his car and Robin nods enthusiastically.

“Duh!”

He nods to himself, “Okay... I can tell her tonight. We are hanging out at my place anyway.”

“I’ll make myself scarce, just say the word and I’ll disappear.” When Steve nods Robin cheers, opening the passenger door and stepping outside. “Don’t mess it up, Steve.”

“I’ll try.” Steve grips the steering wheel, trying to calm himself down.

Steve doesn’t get a chance to though, for that afternoon with greying clouds in the sky you show up at Family Video as soon as your shift at the Deli ends. Steve is about to go to the back and finish some inventory he has procrastinated all week when he sees you pacing in front of his car, arms crossed over your chest. His heart soars, then fills with dread –somethings wrong. He knows it right away which is why he rounds the counter and rushes outside in a heartbeat.

“Babe, what’re you doing here?” Steve says as soon as he opens the door. “It’s gonna rain come on, let’s go inside.”

But you shake your head and look at him with a look he can’t name. It’s a sad look, and it makes Steve panic; he panics even more when he sees your eyes are teary and red-rimmed. “Did something happen? At work or at home?”

“I love you.” You say, at the same time thunder cracks in the distance. Your trembling lips press together when Steve’s move to smile, and your headshake makes Steve pause. “But I don’t think we should see each other again.”

“What?” Steve’s question is a whisper, almost lost to another booming thunder. “Why would you say that? Did I do something?”

“No, Steve.” You sigh, voice shaky, looking everywhere but his eyes. Steve knows this tell though; you don’t want to be caught in a lie. “We just don’t fit–”

“No.” He says simply, shaking his head as he interrupts you. This is that night in the Wheeler’s driveway all over again, you trying to shut everyone out. His hands still shake slightly though, at your confession, your words afterwards, at the idea of losing you.

“Steve it won’t work.” You tell him, it cracks halfway with feeling, and you swallow hard before repeating yourself. “It would never work.”

“Yes it will, it’s us.” Steve tells you, shaking his head. He remembers how far you’ve come, how close the two of you have gotten. He should’ve have known it would scare you, after what happened with your family. “Of course it will! It has worked for months.”

“It won’t! It won’t work regardless of our feelings. Because I’m me! And you’re you –you’ll get sick of me and then leave. And it’ll hurt more than anything I’ve ever experienced.” You tell him, shaking your head and looking at him with reddening eyes. Both your arms are crossed over your chest, as if you’re physically protecting your heart from feeling what if feels for him. I love you, you said. Around you, the sky begins to open, bathing both of you with big droplets of water. “I told you before, you scare me because I’ve never felt this way before.”

Steve tries to take a step closer, but you take a step back; it makes him groan in frustration. “You can’t make that decision for me! How can you think I’d just leave you?”

“Because the person who I thought never would, LEFT.” You yell, eyes brimming with tears that roll down your cheeks. They mix with the raindrops that fall on both of you and Steve’s heart aches.

“Then she didn’t love you enough, not the way you deserve.” Steve places his hands on his hips, looking at the wet concrete underneath his shoes. His eyebrows meet in the middle as he swallows hard. He can’t put into words how angry it makes him that someone hurt you so much, that you’re scared of being happy again. “I thought you trusted me.”

“I do.” You tell him, hands falling to your sides. Your voice is so quiet that the rain falling around you almost drowns it out. “You know I do.”

“Then let me love you!” You’re stunned into silence by Steve’s words, confessed loudly in an outburst as he brings his hands to his hair. He meets your eyes and feels his own tear up; he really doesn’t want to lose you. “Let me prove to you that I love you like crazy, baby. Because I do, you have no idea how much.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and Steve knows you can see all of his feelings reflected on his face. “I don’t want to be heartbroken again Steve! Can’t you see you’re sunshine, and I–”

“Don’t say that.” He whispers and steps closer to you, holding both of your hands. The way you cling to them sparks a fire in his heart, keeps his hope alive. “I told you I wouldn’t change a thing about you, that I’d fight my way to you.”

You try to let go of him, but Steve only pulls you closer even as you look away from him, lip trembling. “You know my issues, especially after what happened last year.”

“I do know them, and I’m telling you now that I don’t plan on ever letting you go. This isn’t just a fling, and you know it.” His hands go to your face, holding it gently and looking into your eyes. Those beautiful eyes he’s seen tear up, the ones that crinkle in the corners when you laugh and turn steely when you’re mad. He wants to look at them forever.

You close them, bracing yourself, as the sky continues to fall all around you. Big drops of water hitting your skin and soaking your clothes every second that passes. ��Even if I have bad days, or get exasperated with you, or I’m a grump?”

Steve smiles and shakes his head. If only you knew. “I love it when you’re a grump, I want to kiss your pout so badly every time.”

“I don’t pout,” You roll your eyes, but Steve can see you’re trying to hide your fear. He’s learned every little detail about you to memory, this is you trying to build a wall. Well then, Steve knows how to break them down.

“I promise,” Steve says, like he did that November night you fought outside in the cold. His nose brushes against yours as tenderly as he can, rainwater sliding down between your faces –his breath catches on his throat. “I love everything about you, everything baby, trust me. It’s you and me, that won’t change.”

You nod, trust shining in your eyes as a teary smile makes its way to your face when you let it free. It knocks the air out of Steve’s lungs. “Stevie, I love you.”

He leans his forehead against yours, happy beyond words and because he’s not good with them he says, “I really want to kiss you.”

“Then kiss me,” You urge him.

Steve leans down, holding your face in his hands and lingering close as he braces himself for this; this moment he’s wished for so many times. He smiles, and thinks finally, before leaning in and kissing you. A noise dies in the back of his throat, his chest feels full of helium and his mind reels at the everything he’s feeling. It’s even better than he dreamed it would be. Your lips soft against his, your hands in his hair, the sigh that escapes you when one of his arms wraps around your waist and presses you flush against him. His skin is buzzing, his fingertips are tingling. So he kisses you until you’re both dizzy, brushing his tongue against yours, matching your intensity head-on. Everything is intoxicating, the sweet scent of your perfume, the softness under his hands, the way your face feels like it’s on fire as his hand remains cupping your cheek. Steve is so in love he could faint, so he breathes you in as he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your neck and just below your ear until the two of you pull back. Soaked in rain, without a care in the world.

“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend?” You ask him softly, stepping impossibly closer to him.

Steve smiles proudly, heart soaring. “Yes it does, I’m yours.”

“I want to kiss you again.” You confess after a minute, blinking away that raindrops that have gathered in your eyelashes and smiling at him. “But I’m cold.”

Steve laughs when you frown and pulls you closer to him. “Yeah, we should probably get out of the rain.”

----

thank you for reading! reblogs are really appreciated and so is any feedback 💖

(I also wrote this tiny insight to grumpy reader’s feelings here )

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x you #steve x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst

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screeching-bunny · 1 year ago

Note

Need more of our yan slasher,he's so pookie,i wanna bite his cheeks (in a affectionate way) and cuddle with him until the end of times,he's such a cutie 😭💗

Yandere! Slasher Pt.2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Pt. 1

After reading the message sent by Yandere! Slasher, everyone subconsciously looked at you. Never in your life did you want to go home more badly than you did right now. Why did you even decide to go to a party in the first place? You don’t even like people in general! You were definitely never going out to socialize with others after this. If only there were more booze around here you really didn’t want to handle this situation semi sober.

You: “... What are you all looking at me for, they gave out a very vague description of someone. This could literally be anyone in this room with similar features to me.”

The next minute the phone screen immediately lights up with a message.

Yandere! Slasher: “I’m talking about you.”

You: “...”

After a few more seconds of silence, you finally managed to suppress the fear and uneasiness in your heart. You took the phone from the person beside you and carefully looked back at the messages that were sent by Yandere! Slasher. Finally looking down at the text box you begin to slowly type a message.

You: “Sorry, I don’t like guys with dark hair.”

Yandere! Slasher: “I can always dye it.”

You: “I don’t like your face.”

Yandere! Slasher: “There’s always plastic surgery”

You: “How do I know that you're rich? What if you’re lying and actually not broke.”

Yandere! Slasher: “I’ll buy you whatever you want right now. I can even send you my credit card information if you decide to be with me.

Damn you were broke but not broke enough to allow yourself to be with some killer. If it weren’t for your morals you would have probably folded by now.

Yandere! Slasher: “Well it’s not like you have a choice anyways. I plan on making you my spouse either way. You can either come with me willingly or I could take you by force…. Well looks like you’re taking too long. I'll decide for you.”

With that text message sent, you immediately began to feel queasy. You were struggling to keep your eyes wide open and your body was beginning to become very sluggish. Slowly but surely your senses were starting to stop and the last thing that you were able to hear were the sound of your peers screaming for help. With one last attempt to get out of your situation, you try to slowly crawl away. Only for your attempts to be interrupted when someone gently picks you up. “You’re not going anywhere cutie.” and with that you were now fully unconscious.

—

The next morning you woke up with the world’s worst hangover in the world. Never in your life did you feel this fucked up and and groggy all at once. You begin to raise up your body but soon realize that your body was tightly restricted by some rope and you were wrapped in the arms of some guy. The immediate thought in your head was that this was, last night was either the kinkiest night of your life or some random weirdo had ended up kidnapping you. Due to your movements the man next to you begins to wake up and looks over to you with a smile on his face.

“Cutie! I’m so glad you’re awake. We have so many things that we need to discuss right now! I’ve been thinking about the names of our future kids. Do you have any preferences? I don’t really mind what we name them but I want a lot of kids! Wait! I’m being so inconsiderate right now. I never even asked you if you wanted kids. If you don’t like them we can adopt as many pets as we physically can and we–”

As he was rambling it finally hit you. He was the fucking weirdo from the night before. You wanted to fucking die. Never in a million years did you think that you’d have to deal with a serial killer and an extrovert at that. Maybe if you pretended to be deaf he would stop talking to you. You begin to look at him and begin to make gestures with your head and facial expressions to signify that you were deaf. Yandere! Slasher looks at you for a few minutes before laughing.

“Sweetie, that's not going to work. I’ve been stalking you for the last couple of years. I know that you’re not deaf. Besides I’ve looked at your medical, you're perfectly healthy right now. Which reminds me, my precious little darling must be starving right now. It’s my job as your future husband to take care of you. Now wait right here for me.”

With that he leaves you entrapped alone in the room. Although your eyes were still a little blurry you were still able to make out the contents of the room. Scanning the room, your eyes fell upon a glint of metal under a desk —a discarded tool left by neglect or chance. Adrenaline surged as you inched closer, your heart racing in synchrony with your movements. With trembling fingers, you grasped the tool, the cold touch sending a shiver down your spine.

Summoning every ounce of determination, you started sawing at the ropes, each movement a blend of agony and hope. The metallic smell of blood filled your nose as the sharp edges of the tool cut into your skin. With each passing second, the knots loosened, freedom within tantalizing reach. With one last rough movement you were able to be free of your binds. As you made your way towards the window. A creak soon shatters the silence and the door swings open. Revealing your kidnapper's looming silhouette.

“Look at you all covered in blood because I left the room. Did you really think I would leave the room without any monitors watching you? I was hoping that you wouldn't try to escape but I guess I’ll have to be training you from now on cutie. Guess I’ll have to punish you right now. Do me a favor and lay down won’t you?”

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere slasher

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just-jordie-things · 1 year ago

Text

fuck it, i love you - okkotsu yuuta

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 11k warnings: none really. reader likes lemon oreos bcuz i projected onto this <3 summary: (y/n) and yuuta get to know each other better over the phone while he's on assignment in africa. feelings ensue. more info: long distance friends to lovers, yuuta got that romance dawg in him

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ and you know everyone adores you // you can’t feel it and you’re tired // baby, wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine // but it’s killing me slowly ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first time he gets a call from her, Yuuta is a little perplexed before he answers the phone. Of the few people he might’ve expected a phone call from, (y/n’s) was the last name he expected to see on his screen. Nonetheless, he answered it right away.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Okkotsu,” Her voice was so cheerful, he could’ve easily believed that she meant to call someone else. But she’d said his name, so it couldn’t have been a mistake. “How’s Morocco?”

“Morocco, is….” He trails off, fingers tapping a poor rhythm on the table in front of him. Doing paperwork in a hotel room wasn’t ideal. The desk provided was always small, and the chair always uncomfortable. But it wasn’t like he had a lot to report anyways. “It’s alright, I guess”

“Alright, you guess?” She repeats curiously. “Sounds like you’re bored already”

“Bored-? N-no, no I’m not bored,” He stammered over his words, and (y/n) could be heard laughing through the line. “I’m just, um, I’m trying to do a report right now” He said sheepishly.

Trying being the key word. He’d practically given up ten minutes before he got her call anyways.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” (y/n) apologized right away. “Am I keeping you? Should I go?”

“N-no!” Yuuta squeaked, cringing at himself as he slumped back into his hair, covering his face with his hand as if there was anyone else around to hide his embarrassment from. “No, you’re not keeping me, I… I have nothing for this report anyways” He explained.

“Really? Not goin’ so well?” She asked.

“Uh- it’s just- I don’t want to bore you with it,” He sighed. “Anyways, what’s the call for? Isn’t it like…” He glances behind him at the analog clock on his bedside table, wincing when he sees how late it was. “Three in the morning, your time?”

“Actually, it’s only two forty-five,” She corrects with a clear smile in her tone. “And aren’t I allowed to check in? You’ve been gone, for like, weeks”

“Y-yeah, you’re allowed,” He mumbles back, face feeling hot. “I just figured, y’know, you’re… busy”

“Never too busy,” She half-jokes. “So tell me all about it, boring parts and all”

Yuuta’s brows pinch together, a small scoff leaving his throat.

“Really?” He’s unsure as to why she’d want to hear about the ins and outs of a trip that so far had proven to be pointless. “You sure you want to hear about it?”

“Course,” She hums back. “Beats studying”

So he complies. There’s not much to tell, but he finds a way to walk her through what his day-to-day with Miguel was like. Looking for more of the Black Rope. She seemed to have some interest in the cursed tool, asking excitedly if it could stop the cursed techniques of even the strongest special grade sorcerers.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point,” He chuckles. “But it’s been slow. I’m starting to think this is going to take longer than we thought…”

(y/n’s) a good listener. She lets him ramble on even when he’s not making sense, and continues to prod and ask more questions when she comes up with them. He thinks maybe she’s just stalling to keep her from studying, but he figures there were countless other things she could’ve done to keep her occupied… right?

It’s not until Yuuta notices the clock and remembers the time difference between them that he finally stops his rambling and suggests they end their call soon.

“Ah- it’s late, and I’m probably boring you now, too” He lets out a light hearted chuckle that she can’t help but reciprocate.

“I guess I should try to study just a little” She huffs.

Yuuta scoffs, a small smile on his face as he picks up his pen and stares at the half-finished report in front of him. Maybe he’d been stalling, too.

“Or you could just go to bed, cram last minute tomorrow” He suggests.

She seems amused by that, and when she lets out a little laugh he thinks it’s the right choice, too. The noise comes out lazily, full of sleepiness. It’s obvious even through the phone. Yuuta wonders if she’s hunched over her desk, ignoring the textbook and notes right in front of her.

“You’re pr’lly right,” She murmurs, her tiredness even more evident in her voice. “I guess I’ll go to bed then”

“Okay,” Yuuta drums the pen against his thigh in an erratic beat. Something about saying goodnight makes him feel a little disappointed.

Until now, he hadn’t realized that it had been weeks since he’d casually talked to a friend. Toge texted plenty, and sometimes he heard from Panda and Maki, too. But this felt… different.

“Well, goodnight-”

“And Okkotsu?” She interrupts him without realizing, quickly apologizing before she continues her thought. “You didn’t bore me, just for the record. I think it’s neat that you get to be on such a special assignment. I hope that it gets more exciting for you”

He’s thankful that she didn’t opt to facetime him, because his face grows so warm he just knows he’s turned into a tomato. And something about sitting in his lonely little hotel room and blushing over such a simple comment is downright embarrassing.

He laughs nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt to relieve the heat on his neck.

“Uh, yeah, me too,” He stammered quietly. “Thanks. Good luck with studying”

She hums.

“Goodnight, Okkotsu. Thanks for keeping me company”

The call ends there, and Yuuta smiles to himself as he sets his phone down and finds the energy to finish up his pointless report.

Talking with her had been nice. Maybe they hadn’t become the closest of friends between him enrolling at Jujutsu Tech and being shipped off to Africa, but he thinks that could- and should- change.

He’d have to make more of an effort to get closer to her while he was away.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When (y/n) calls again, it’s not so late this time.

Yuuta had just settled in the hotel lobby with his burrito for lunch, his only plan for the time being was to scroll aimlessly on his phone while he ate. To his luck, just as he sat down on the stiff cushioned chair in the lobby, his phone rang.

“Okkotsu!”

It had been a little over a week since their last call, and Yuuta had done his best to keep in touch with her since then. A few photos of the wildlife native to the area that she seemed to enjoy, or a pretty sunrise here or there. There were a lot of messages sent to her first thing in the morning, beautiful photos tagged with his complaints of being up so early. It was the easiest time to use his phone, and he’d tried to make a habit of at least messaging her once a day.

To his delight, she always sent him a response. It wasn’t always right away, with an eight hour time difference that was a steep ask, but she never failed to let him know that she saw his message and appreciated it somehow. Whether it was an emoji reaction or a full text, she never left a text from him unanswered. Strangely, Yuuta found this to be thoughtful of her.

“I’m cooking, can you believe it!?” She sounds excited, but the kind of excited that seems like something very wrong is about to happen.

“O-oh?” He stutters, chucking as he tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder so he could unwrap his burrito. “What, are you not allowed, or something?”

“Hush, I don’t let anyone tell me what to do,” She laughs at his comment, not realizing he wasn’t joking. “I just haven’t cooked for myself properly since moving away from home. The kitchen here is puny, though,” She mutters the last part.

The muffled sounds coming through the speaker sound as though she’s rummaging around the cabinets. Yuuta tilts his phone away from his ear a little, the dishware clanking together more unpleasant than usual coming through a phone.

“But I thought it’d be nice to make a home cooked dinner. I was going to make some for everyone, but I guess they already ate. So it’s dinner for one tonight,” She explains. Yuuta’s chest sinks with disappointment at the thought of missing quality time with his friends. “Anyways, what’re you up to?”

“Eating a burrito,” He replies dryly. “What are you making? I’d much rather have that”

“Don’t speak too soon, it’s been a while since I’ve been in a kitchen,”

(y/n) laughs, and Yuuta does too.

“Just ramen,” She answers. “Figured it’s best to start out simple. Also figured I couldn’t set anything on fire”

“Depends on how you look at it. Setting something on fire while only cooking ramen might be an accomplishment, with how difficult it must be”

He doesn’t mean to be funny, but (y/n’s) laughing again, and Yuuta smiles through a mouthful of burrito for saying something clever enough. Pride swells in his chest the longer he hears her laughter turn to muted giggles while she’s pittering about the kitchen.

“You’re eating, should I let you go?” She asks once her laughter has calmed down.

“No, it’s alright,” Yuuta shakes his head even though he knows she can’t see. “I’m bored anyways. I was just going to sit here by myself and eat this burrito”

She laughs again, lightly this time.

“Alright, then, want me to tell you about how hard Maki kicked my ass in training yesterday?” She offers.

He’d already had an inkling, recalling a harshly worded text from her followed by a photo of her left leg covered in blue and purple marks that were bound to grow dark soon. He’d cringed when he’d seen it, giving the image a frowning emoji reaction before responding with, ‘Maki?’. But he happily agrees to have her tell him the rest of the story behind the bruises.

He deems (y/n) and Maki to hold a far closer friendship than he did himself, so he knew that the next five minutes of ranting on her part is in good nature and she was only annoyed with losing, not necessarily with Maki herself. That said, as someone who had dealt with the torture of training with her, Yuuta understood the feeling quite well. He laughs when she talks about being thrown to the ground like a ragdoll, and he winces when she tells him about the absolute beatdown she’d taken.

It’s a gruesome retelling, even though at times she talks as if it was as casual a part of her day as brushing her teeth had been. The life of a jujutsu sorcerer was always an unorthodox one.

“She didn’t even try to go easy on me, Okkotsu. But, she did get me an ice cream sandwich with my ice pack, so she’s still my best friend, I guess” She’s only teasing, evident in the way she giggles.

“Yuuta” He says without thinking, having happened to swallow the last of his food and finally getting a chance to speak.

“Hm- what?”

“You can just call me Yuuta” He clarifies, eyes darting around the lobby to be sure no one could see him blushing.

His voice grows quieter as he suddenly feels bashful in the public setting. None of the people passing in and out of the space pay him a second glance, and it doesn’t dawn on him that they might not even understand his language, but his body language says enough. He’s tucked into the corner chair, hunched over and holding the phone as close to his face as possible so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice too much. Not to mention, his face was turning a rosy shade of pink.

“Alright, Yuuta,” (y/n) muses, testing the waters to see how his name sounded. It felt foreign, and it had the color in Yuuta’s face darkening even faster, but she seemed amused by the change. “Ramen’s coming along pretty well, I think it’ll actually be edible!”

She’s quick to move on from the semi-serious topic. He’s relieved for this, and does his best to come across as casual as possible. He asks her about the recipe, and she talks to him for a while about her process until the conversation somehow turns back on him and he’s updating her about Morocco.

Time passes so easily, Yuuta barely realizes that he’s been sitting in the lobby for an hour, not thinking about how she had finished her dinner and eaten it too. (y/n) never mentions the time either, unknown to him, sitting on the counter in the common room’s kitchenette as she talks aimlessly about anything and everything she can think of. Yuuta enjoys hearing about it all, the shenanigans that she’s been up to with Toge, the odd style of teaching that Gojo has, even just the simple things, like how yesterday it had rained.

There’s something magical about being on the phone with her, he realizes halfway into hearing about how she’d gone outside to help the worms back into the grass after the rainfall. Not only does he lose time, but there’s not a dull moment. Most of his days had become so bland and boring they’d started to blend together. Besides the occasional sword training, he’d spent the majority of his time wandering about with Miguel. It was starting to feel aimless, with every passing day that they came up empty handed.

Talking with her was everything but boring, never boring. It finally felt like he had some company to get him through this assignment. He hoped that this second call meant they could make more of a habit out of it.

“I should probably go so I can clean up the kitchen,” She sighs when she finally suggests getting off the phone. It’s then, and only then, that Yuuta checks the time, quickly pulling his phone away to tap the screen before putting it up to his ear again. “I think it’d be obnoxious for me to stay on the phone while I do the dishes” She adds with a chuckle.

His heart spikes at the idea of her wanting to keep talking, though.

“Y-yeah, that might be too loud,” He replies. “But that’s okay, I should probably get some training in, or something, anyways”

“Gotta keep up that Special Grade status,” (y/n) teases. He’s grateful she can’t see him fluster every time she teases him, no matter how lighthearted it is. He’s not sure why it sends him into a mini panic every time, but he hopes he gets a hang of himself soon, if they’re going to keep talking like this. “Talk soon, though?”

He’d really have to learn to get a hold of himself. The short question has him beaming and nodding his head wildly, although the only people to see it are the hotel staff at the check-in desk who’d been peeking glances at the weird talkative boy on his phone for the last two hours.

Yuuta clears his throat before speaking, hoping to sound as normal as possible.

“Yeah, yeah we can talk again soon”

He’s not sure how well he does.

“Okay, cool,” The smile is evident in her tone, and in turn has Yuuta smiling too. “Talk to you later then, Yuuta”

Maybe he was just hopeless, but hearing his name again has him blushing and fidgeting in his seat.

“Bye, (y/n)”

Even once the call has ended and his phone is sitting lifeless in his lap, with the rush of adrenaline Yuuta gets, one might think he’d just received the best news of his life. Funnily enough, he hadn’t received much news at all- besides the fact that the worms on Jujutsu Tech Tokyo’s property were safe and accounted for after a life threatening sprinkle- so his giddiness was solely brought on by talking with her.

Slowly but surely, she was becoming his favorite person to talk to.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[y/n]: need ur help, it’s urgent [y/n]: ok woah i should not have said it like that

[yuuta]: ??? are you ok???

[y/n]: need u to help me win a bet

[yuuta]: ._. [yuuta]: ok.

[y/n]: vanilla oreos suck, right?

[yuuta]: this was urgent?

[y/n]: panda said they’re his favorite flavor.

[yuuta]: oh god. [yuuta]: he needs a wellness check for sure.

[y/n]: THANK YOU [y/n]: toge said his fav were the birthday cake ones but the vanilla weren’t bad. he’s still got the taste of a toddler, but at least they’re not his FAVORITE i mean cmon. vanilla is just bad. [y/n]: i knew you’d understand me.

[yuuta]: ur right this was urgent. i thought i knew them. [yuuta]: what are your favorite?

[y/n]: obviously i told them original.

[yuuta]: … implying they’re not actually your favorite?

[y/n]: you’re asking very personal questions, yuuta

[yuuta]: lmfao [yuuta]: i’ll tell u mine if u tell me urs :)

[y/n]: u first i’m shy :)

[yuuta]: original are good. but i like the toffee ones best

[y/n]: interesting.

[yuuta]: so am i getting judged for my oreo preference, too?

[y/n]: lol no. ur safe. for now ;)

[yuuta]: well we had a deal. what’s ur fav?

[y/n]: … i like the lemon ones

[yuuta]: :o [yuuta]: don’t those come with a VANILLA cookie???

[y/n]: … [y/n]: maybe.

[yuuta]: ur ridiculous

[y/n]: but the lemon flavor makes it different. it’s not PLAIN vanilla.

[yuuta]: can’t argue with u there

[y/n]: ya bcuz u wouldn’t dare :)

[yuuta]: no i wouldn’t :)

[y/n]: mwahaha i have the big scary special grade afraid of me :)

[yuuta]: idk about big. and the scary is all rika

[y/n]: does she have a take on the great oreo flavor debate? <3

[yuuta]: … [yuuta]: she always preferred animal crackers.

[y/n]: <;/3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When Yuuta finally works up the courage to call her first, it’s been a couple weeks.

Which in hindsight, it feels like too much time has passed. Even though they’ve been texting every single day nearly nonstop. Yuuta had grown so attached to his phone it was almost becoming a problem.

Not that he’d admit it.

“Okkotsu Yuuta!” She picks up the phone with the same eagerness she’d held the last time she’d called him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was bored, and was hoping you had something interesting going on,” He sighed, falling backwards on the perfectly made bed in his room. Too perfect. It was always annoying to tug the covers out of their tightly tucked corners to comfortably sleep at night. “All I’ve been doing is train and I’m exhausted” He grumbles.

(y/n) hums through the speaker.

“Well if you’re that bored, I suppose I could tell you about a boy conflict of mine,” She suggests.

Just as Yuuta was starting to relax into the mattress, he felt his spine go stiff as a chill shot from his tailbone all the way up to his neck. It feels like his entire body has been drenched in icy water, freezing him solid.

“It’s okay if that’s too… weird, though” He’s drawn back to reality by (y/n’s) nervous laugh, something he doesn’t hear all that often. It’s strained and awkward, displaying every bit of anxious emotion that she felt.

“It’s not weird,” Yuuta’s not usually very good at lying, people always have a way of seeing right through him. He wonders if he’s only decent at telling this one because she’s not physically here. She can’t see the way his face contorts as it tries to stay neutral, or how his fingers start to tap against the comforter beneath him. “Boy conflict is… normal” He adds.

He’d meant that one, but she laughs anyway.

“I guess so,” She sighs through the speaker. “But I’ve never really had any before. Not like you get to meet a lot of people. But… I guess I met someone..?”

Yuuta’s gut twists, and he wonders if he ate something bad with his lunch. Maybe the chicken was undercooked? No, it seemed fine. He probably just ate too fast.

“That feels less like conflict and more like interest” His jaw feels tight when he talks. With his free hand, he rubs at it and tries to keep his teeth from clenching.

“Well, I am interested,”

Distantly, Yuuta thinks he should swallow some tums before he goes to bed so this stomach ache won’t keep him up all night.

“At least, I think I am,” (y/n) sighs again. “He’s not a sorcerer, I met him at a corner store I went to with Maki,” She explains. “He was cute and all, I guess we had a moment over the energy drinks? It’s kind of a blur, I didn’t really pay attention until he was handing me his number and now I have this number and- I don’t know. Is that weird?”

Yuuta’s not really sure what to tell her. He’s not really sure how he feels about it. His gut tells him that yes, it is weird, and she shouldn’t be going out with some guy she met at a convenience store. Anyone can walk into one of those, he thinks bitterly, his brow furrowed as he thought over her dilemma.

“Well, um, did he seem… nice?”

The question comes out pathetic. Yuuta’s smacking his hand over his face from how stupid he sounds, and feels.

“Yeah, I guess” (y/n) answers anyways.

“Then I guess ball’s in your court?” The suggestion comes out more as a question than he means it to. Yuuta thinks he wasn’t equipped for this, and maybe he should have told her it was a weird thing for them to talk about.

But he wouldn’t have meant that. He would talk to her about anything, and he wanted her to feel the same. He wanted her to talk about anything and everything she wanted. Lord knows he’d take an interest in it.

However the interest he has in this conversation isn’t quite like normal. His curiosity is less genuine. It feels like it’s lurching around in his mind, something disappointed yet irritable growing in it’s place. He hates the feeling. He hates feeling that way towards her. Even if it wasn’t directed at her specifically.

“You’re right,” There’s more determination in her voice now. “I should just text him, right?”

No, Yuuta’s jaw is clenched again, teeth grinding loudly. He hopes she can’t hear it through the phone. No, don’t let some stranger have your number. He doesn’t deserve it like I do.

“Right!” His voice is louder than he means to, as if trying to overpower the jealous train of thought that runs through his mind.

He’s sitting upright on the bed in a second, still rigid and uncomfortable, but his anxiety makes him want to pace. He needs to work off the awkward feeling in his chest somehow.

“Then I can see what he’s like,” (y/n) speaks as though she’s really telling herself what made the most sense. Yuuta’s nodding wordlessly, his eyes fixated on a spot on the floor that’s growing more blurry by the second. “And then if I like him… maybe we can go out or something” She mumbles the last part, clearly distracted.

He wonders if she’s texting him now. The idea of her reaching out to this random guy while she’s on the phone with him sends his heart plummeting to his already upset stomach.

Where were all of these nasty feelings coming from?

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea” Yuuta’s speaking, but it feels distant, he’s not exactly sure of what he’s saying.

“Alright. I’ll text him later, then,”

He’s relieved that she wasn’t doing it this very moment, but there was still an unsettling pit in his stomach knowing she was bound to reach out at some point.

“Thanks, Yuuta. So, what’s been going on with you?”

It takes a while of chatting and pacing the room before Yuuta feels like himself again. He’s lucky there wasn’t a circle burned in the shape of his track in the tightly coiled carpeting of his room, certainly he would’ve had to call Gojo for a favor if he was billed for such damage.

Eventually the nasty feeling in his chest settles and he’s sitting in the bed again, the notebook he was drafting up today’s report on propped on his legs and his phone at his side, (y/n’s) voice on speaker as she tells him about the rest of her and Maki’s outing in the shopping district.

As it always does, time goes by too quickly, and soon enough she’s yawning through the speaker and telling him it was getting too late for her.

“But thanks for calling, Yuuta. I was starting to think you didn’t know phones worked both ways” She teases softly.

Had she been waiting for him to call?

“Yeah, anytime. I just… you know the time difference… I don’t ever want to bother you”

“You? Bother me?” She giggles. “After you let me talk your ear off about a boy, I don’t think that’s what’s happening here,” She tells him.

The nasty feeling swells again.

“Besides, you could never bother me,” She adds, her tone much softer. Almost sweet. Yuuta can’t tell if his stomach is convulsing or doing flips. “But call again sometime, m’kay?”

“Okay,” He says, hopeful, and just as eager as he felt. “G’night, (y/n)”

“Bye Yuuta, goodnight!”

His phone lights up with the low battery icon once the call is over. He’s slow to plug the charger into it and leave it on his nightstand for the evening, his mind still mulling over everything she’d told him. Or more so, how he’d felt taking in all that information.

He couldn’t have possibly been jealous, right? Not over some random guy. Not because of her. They were friends, after all. Friends that didn’t even get that close until after he left. In his time at Jujutsu Tech he’d only spoken to her a handful of times, and mostly in passing. It wouldn’t feel right to have something like jealousy spark up now. No, he was probably just worried for her, seeing as he couldn’t look out for her when he’s thousands of miles away. Yeah, that was it.

It couldn’t have anything to do with the way he felt his world light up when she laughed. Or that getting a text message from her in the sound effect that he’d picked out just for her contact had serotonin spiking in his brain.

None of those things were connected at all.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The fourth time they talk on the phone, unfortunately, he has to hear about this guy again.

Yuuta’s not even sure he knows his name. He thinks (y/n) must’ve mentioned it once or twice in their texts, but it’s never quite stuck, and honestly, Yuuta doesn’t want to ask.

Not that he cares- it wasn’t like that at all. It had simply been too long for it to feel appropriate to ask. He didn’t want her to think he didn’t listen, is all.

He’d called one evening when yet again he felt like putting off writing up his report. It had almost become a habit to reach out to her as soon as he was stalling, or bored. He didn’t have much to talk about, he never really did, but he had been eager to tell her about some new cuisine he’d tried that he’d thought she might like.

There was a pesky thought in the back of his mind about her visiting him for a few days. Only pesky due to how often it presented itself, even when he should’ve been focused on more pressing matters. He knew it was bad when Miguel had taken notice and smacked him upside the head to get him to pay attention- on this earth, preferably, he’d said.

But he couldn’t help it. The idea of having her here, for a few days or a few weeks, had become his go-to daydream. He already knew everything he’d want to show her, the busy, colorful markets and the good food Yuuta hadn’t known existed until coming here. To how pretty the beaches were at sunset, especially when the little hermit crabs would wake up and wander around the shore, he thinks she’d like that a lot.

Even just the idea of having her around to hang out with and chat about anything and nothing, just like how they do through their phones, had his chest buzzing with warmth and excitement. Even though it was all in his head and logic told him she probably couldn’t make such a trip. She had her own assignments and lessons after all, and technically he was supposed to be working.

Nonetheless, when he found himself getting bored, his mind drifted off to pretending she was there with him to keep him company. Sometimes it even did the trick.

Tonight when he calls her, he’s kicking around the idea of bringing it up. Maybe if she took it well enough he could reach out to Gojo about it, surely he had the social standing and the funds to let her visit. His heart is thrumming in his chest just thinking about it, every ring of the dial tone putting him further on the edge of his seat.

It rings a total of five times before she finally answers. It’s not all that late in Tokyo, just half past nine, but suddenly Yuuta worries that this wasn’t a good time to call.

“Hey,” He’s the first to speak, grinning from ear to ear when the line finally clicks and she’s answered the call. “Is this a bad time?”

“Uh, n-no,” She stutters back, voice quiet and a little raspier than usual. Had she been sleeping? She speaks before he can double check if it was an okay time to talk. “I’m not doing anything. What’s up?”

Yuuta can’t quite put his finger on it, but it certainly sounds like it’s a bad time. Her voice is lacking it’s usual mirth, and she sounds like she’s purposefully trying not to raise her voice. His smile begins to fall as his brain starts to stir with worry.

“Nothing, really. Just… wanted to talk, I guess,” It feels a little embarrassing to admit, but for once, she’s not teasing him. It’s strange, not hearing her softly poke fun at him when he’d clearly given her an opening to do so. “What’re you doing?”

“It’s almost ten here, I’m in bed”

The words almost come out cold, a bitterness to them that Yuuta wasn’t used to. If it weren’t for the crack in her voice, he might’ve thought she was upset with him. But there’s a noticeable little hitch in the middle of her words that tells him it’s not annoyance he’s picking up on.

“Hey,” His voice is quiet as he sits on his bed, brows furrowing as he feels the mood shift even in a room thousands of miles away from hers. “Is something wrong?”

“No” Comes her instant answer, but it’s not remotely believable. Her voice is so quiet and muffled it barely comes through the speaker, and shortly after he hears a shuffling that sounds like a heap of blankets being tossed around.

“C’mon, wanna talk about it?” He pressed again, dragging his finger over the crisp comforter on the bed to create misshapen invisible designs. “What happened, (y/n)?” He asks again, voice softer than before.

The tiniest of sniffles could be heard, and his heart sinks at the idea of her sitting alone in bed and crying. Whatever caused it he was sure he could find a way to solve it. It wasn’t often that Yuuta felt cocky with his Special Grade status, but in this moment he was sure he was the most powerful person in the world, and if something had bothered her this much, he’d certainly be able to take care of it.

“It’s- it’s stupid,” The high pitch in the cracking of her voice was more evident the louder she spoke. He’s worried she was going to leave it at that, maybe tell him to leave her alone or hang up altogether. Then he hears a wobbly inhale before she’s whimpering through her words again. “I’m so stupid, Yuuta, what was I thinking?”

His heart cracks with every word she speaks. He’s not sure what put her in such pain, but he swears, he’s experiencing it too just knowing she was hurting. He places his free hand over his chest to ease the hollow feeling that carves itself there.

“What d’ya mean? You’re not stupid, not remotely. C’mon, y’know that,” He tries to keep his voice light and gentle, even though the growing put in his stomach had his throat closing up. “What happened? Talk to me” He pleads softly.

(y/n) sniffles, before trying to even out her breathing again so she didn’t sound so pathetic when she talked.

“I don’t even want to tell you, it’s so stupid,” She admits. “B-but everyone else is busy, o-or gone and I- I don’t want to cry about it anymore,”

Had she been crying for a while? His heart seizes at the thought.

“Promise you won’t laugh at me?” She mumbles. Yuuta nodded his head rapidly in response.

“Yeah, yeah of course I promise. I won’t laugh at you” He tells her with grave sincerity.

She sighs, breath still shaky, but she does her best to talk through it.

In a wobbly, quiet voice, she tells him everything. About how she had plans to meet up with convenience-store-guy that Yuuta still hadn’t caught the name of. How she’d taken plenty of time to plan out her outfit and put herself together, how in the meantime he’d been nothing short of flirtatious and sweet, leading her to believe he’d been eager to go out with her. She tells him how an hour before they were set to meet up a block away from campus, she’d stopped hearing from him altogether. She laughs humorlessly as she explains she’d sent nearly ten messages asking where he was or if he needed to reschedule before she’d dropped it completely and walked herself back home.

“No text, no call. Absolutely n-nothing,” She mutters bitterly. “But I don’t g-get it, did I do something wr-wrong?”

“Of course not,” Yuuta sighed, trying to release the tension of his building irritation so he could keep his focus on comforting her. “He’s just… he’s stupid, okay? I don’t know what his deal is, but you dodged a bullet, for sure. If that’s how he acts before a first date, imagine how terrible he would’ve been by the twentieth”

Surprisingly, he’s not terrible when it comes to consoling her. (y/n) hums tiredly in agreement. It doesn’t necessarily take the pain away, but there is some relief in knowing it never would have worked out.

“Yeah,” She breathes out. “But… I was excited, you know?” She mumbles. “I’ve never been on a real date before, at least I don’t think I have, but I think I’d know,” She explains. “I just… I thought I’d feel normal for a night. I- I thought he liked me. I kinda liked him, too. But mostly I…” She trails off, and they both remain silent for a few beats, each processing their own mess of thoughts. “I liked the idea of being liked, I guess. Is that selfish?”

“Of course not,” Yuuta chuckles warmly. “Everyone wants that. It’s completely normal,” He says. “Besides, it’s not like you were imagining things. He did have an interest. Who wouldn’t?”

The last part comes out before he can realize what he’s actually saying, and his face grows hot with the insinuation of his words. He’s stammering to fix it, which doesn’t help him much, but he tries.

“W-what I mean is that there will be plenty of other people who will meet you and fall for you completely and y-you’ll be swarmed with phone numbers and people who like you!”

He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but his nerves are starting to take over as the word vomit continues. (y/n’s) quiet as she listens intently, and the longer she doesn’t speak up to stop him, the worse his rambling becomes.

“You’ll have to fight ‘em all off, you know? There’s so many people out there who haven’t been lucky enough to meet you yet, and when they do you’ll get to experience everything you want. You know what?”

There’s a soft ‘what?’ from her end before he continues on his rant.

“It’s a good thing your first date wasn’t with that prick anyways. It wouldn’t have been fair. It wouldn’t have been right at all if your first date was boring or shitty or- or anything short of special and electric, okay?”

(y/n) still doesn’t say anything, but she’s hanging onto every word he says, even when they’re rushed and he’s stumbling over them, all of her focus is on what he’s saying.

“Because you deserve it. And anyone who is remotely worth your time will know that. And they’ll- they’ll text you too much before you finally go out, because they’ll be nervous because you make them nervous because you’ll be so out of their league, you know?” He doesn’t even pause before continuing. “And they’ll pick you up on time if not early because they’ll respect your time, and they’ll have flowers- the prettiest, most expensive bouquet they could find- right? A bouquet even Gojo couldn’t afford,”

She lets out a watery laugh that has Yuuta easing up in his rambling, a warm feeling planting in his chest in the hopes she’d smiled, even just a little bit, even if it was through her tears, he’d provoked just a little bit of joy from her.

“And… and if you’re anything short of completely swept away, then you’ll call Maki and she’ll come get you so you don’t have to spend another second wasting your time with a loser that doesn’t deserve you”

His chest is heaving a bit when he finally stops, not realizing he was losing his breath the longer he rambled on. His face feels hot as he processes everything he’d just dumped on her, and he prays that it wasn’t as pathetic as he’s worrying it was.

There’s a few small sniffles before (y/n) speaks up.

“Well, if you were back home, I’d just call you,” She says softly. Her voice doesn’t sound as strained as before, and Yuuta hopes it means she’d stopped crying. “You really think I’ll be able to find all that?”

“Yeah, ‘course I do,” He mumbles back, although his words hold absolute certainty. “Not a doubt in my mind”

She giggles, a real little laugh that he can almost see. It’s short and sweet and it has him elated that he’d lightened her mood. He’s not sure what exactly he did, but he’s grateful that the word vomit was beneficial for once.

“Thank you, Yuuta,” She murmurs. “You’re right, and, I actually feel a little better,”

His heart soars, and he’s smiling to himself again with pride and relief.

“I’m still going to watch Pride and Prejudice before bed, though. I’d already committed to it and I can’t just go to sleep now” She tells him seriously. Yuuta laughs, falling back on his bed as comfortably as he could with his feet still planted on the ground.

“I’ve never seen it,” He tells her. “But don’t stay up too-”

“Never?” She interrupts with a gasp of shock. “Yuuta, that’s criminal”

He chuckles again. “Is it really?”

“Yes, very much so,” She tells him. “When you’re back we have to watch it, okay?”

“Yeah, sure-”

“No, promise” She demanded for the second time that night.

“I promise,” He repeats, smiling to himself as his gaze wanders the ceiling.

He couldn’t help but think that if she were to visit him, they could spend a whole afternoon here in this room watching her movie, probably eating snacks and making a mess of the place as they got cozy for it. This room had always remained perfectly tidy, so much so it was almost boring. Having her in it would surely brighten it up and give it some life, he thinks.

“We’ll watch it as soon as I’m back” He tells her.

“Okay. Good. You were on thin ice for a second, you know” She murmurs sleepily. He can hear her yawning.

“Was I?” He muses. “Is that what it takes to get you to hang up on me?”

“Are you suggesting I wouldn’t?” She quips back, and he’s glad that her teasing nature has come around again.

“I’m suggesting you never have before” Yuuta shrugs. His fingers are pressed firmly against the back of his phone, keeping it close to his ear so he couldn’t miss the way she laughed at him.

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re just good company,” She hums. “But it is late and I want to watch this movie, so I guess there’s a first for everything”

His face is warm and he feels full, like he’d just eaten a good meal, despite him having skipped lunch in order to call her. Yuuta smiles lazily at the blank ceiling as he hums back to her.

“Alright, enjoy your movie,” He says. “But, uh, you can call me again. Y’know, if you… need to. Or want to”

There’s a pause before she responds.

“Okay,” It comes out in a hushed whisper. “Have a good rest of your day, Yuuta”

The time difference has his lips pinching into a frown, but he quickly tries to hold onto the last few seconds of joy he has while talking to her.

“Goodnight, (y/n)”

The call ends, and he drops his phone to the mattress, letting it sit forgotten beside his head. He stays put in his semi-comfortable position, still staring at the ceiling as his hands fall to his sides. His chest felt tight, and his mind a little dazed as he replayed the call over and over in his mind. The hurt he’d felt when she was hurting, the relief he’d felt when she was happy. It was overwhelming, the way his own emotions were thrown through the wringer depending on hers.

His heart was hammering in his chest so hard, Yuuta knew he couldn’t deny his feelings any longer.

He was falling for her. Fast, and hard.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[yuuta]: [attachment]: one image [yuuta]: i think you’d like these little guys

[y/n]: :D a hermit crab!!! [y/n]: so cute! can’t believe ur holding it, i’d be scared of getting pinched

[yuuta]: i’m special grade, i’m not scared of anything :)

[y/n]: getting real comfy with throwing that title around, huh? you must think so low of me, a mere second grade. i could never amount to the *mighty* okkotsu yuuta.

[yuuta]: lol shut up it’s just a crab

[y/n]: he is super cute. his name is yuu now :)

[yuuta]: bcuz u miss me so much? :)

[y/n]: bcuz he’s small and feisty. that little claw looks ready to attack :>

[yuuta]: ok i’ll admit he did pinch me once. [yuuta]: but in his defense i did pick him up and i am a big scary human

[y/n]: lmfao [y/n]: i thought we just established ur small and feisty

[yuuta]: i don’t think i like being called small

[y/n]: tiny [y/n]: smol [y/n]: just a baby

[yuuta]: are we still talking abt the crab??

[y/n]: and maybe a little cute [y/n]: if we’re still talking about similarities :)

[yuuta]: cute???????

[y/n]: when u first came to jujutsu tech u were kinda like a hermit crab LMFAO [y/n]: i think if u had a shell u would’ve lived in it for WEEKS XD

[yuuta]: ._.

[y/n]: :)

[yuuta]: ur being a menace today [yuuta]: more than usual

[y/n]: it’s bcuz gojo’s lesson plan so far has been fighting the air :/ idk how he’s a teacher. i’m definitely not learning anything [y/n]: except that i might be able to take him in a fight without cursed energy

[yuuta]: my money is on u :) [yuuta]: but also i’ll be there with ice cream when u get ur ass kicked

[y/n]: <;/3[y/n]: that’s my broken heart[y/n]: you’ve broken my heart.

[yuuta]: lol [yuuta]: but there will be ice cream [yuuta]: <3

[y/n]: … [y/n]: ok i might forgive u

[yuuta]: is it bcuz i’m cute [yuuta]: :)) [yuuta]: ?? (y/n) ?? [yuuta]: :(( [yuuta]: don’t ghost me ik ur not paying attention in class

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The tenth phone call they have, (y/n’s) the one calling him.

It’s one in the morning his time, so he’s sound asleep on the mattress that still feels stiff after about three months of him sleeping on it. Every day he longs more and more to go back home to his cozy room and his friends and her.

When his ringtone blares, a pretty tune that’s suddenly the most obnoxious sound on the planet, he’s awake right away. Jolting from his slumber and reaching around blindly in search of the device. He nearly shoves everything on his bedside table right off, his arm swinging with too much force in his desperate attempt to pick up the phone.

Even once it’s in his hand, it takes him a second to steadily press the accept button, his vision blurry and sleep still threatening to take back over. It takes him a few tries before he’s answering the call and laying the phone on his pillow next to his head.

“Hello?” He rasps out.

“Yuuta!” (y/n’s) all too cheery for one in the morning, but he distantly remembers it’s the early evening in Tokyo. His eyes squeeze shut as he rubs at them tiredly. “Yuuta! How could you not tell me the good news!?”

She’s yelling, and even without his phone on speaker he hears her perfectly fine just having the device laying next to his head. It’s a shock to his ears, his mind buzzing as it tries to wake him up to deal with the noise. But he snuggles deeper into his pillow, rolling onto his side to press his face into the feathery plushness.

“-was gonna wait,” He mumbles sleepily. “Y’know, ‘til I was awake, ‘nd it was a normal time” His words are followed by a low chuckle. The pillow suddenly becomes the comfiest thing he’s ever touched, and even the stiff mattress becomes a little more inviting.

“Wait?” She repeats the word before gasping dramatically. “Okkotsu Yuuta, I had to hear you were coming back from Toge!”

He chuckles again at her antics. He’s still exhausted, but his chest feels warm hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Do you know how long it took him to tell me? Hm? He did charades, Yuuta. Charades!” The image has him laughing a little more, shoulders shaking just a little bit as he listens to her go on. “I’m terrible at charades by the way. The whole thing took, like, fifteen minutes. I was pissed he couldn’t just write it down”

“Toge’s jus’ like that” He mumbles.

“But you told him before me?”

Yuuta’s not sure if the offense in her tone is fake or not. To play it safe, he covers his tracks.

“No,” He sighs. “Gojo pr’lly told him. He only just told me before I went to bed”

“And you didn’t even text,” (y/n) huffs, but he can hear the laugh she’s trying to hold back. He smiles in relief knowing she was just sticking to her bit. “Well you better actually text me as soon as you’re back!” She says threateningly. “We have plans. You promised”

“How could I forget?” He hums, voice low and growing quieter as his body beckons him to fall back to sleep.

“Okay. Good,” She says definitively. “I guess I’ll let you go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you up”

He hums in amusement.

“Don’t be sorry for being so excited to see me you couldn’t contain it,” He teases quietly. (y/n’s) silent on the other end of the line. “And don’t be embarrassed, either” He adds.

“I’m not embarrassed!” She squeaks, making him chuckle some more. Maybe he was just deprived of his sleep, but she was extra cute when he was the one doing the teasing. “But I… I am excited to see you”

He smiles into his pillow, sighing contentedly into it.

“I know sweetheart,” He mumbles. “And ‘m excited to see you too”

She’s failing to stifle a giggle through the speaker.

“Okay okay, you’re clearly wiped. I’ll let you go,” She says. “Goodnight, Yuuta”

“Night, (y/n)”

He’s asleep before she even ends the call, drawn back into rest by the suddenly comfortable bedding and the sweet echo of her laughter playing in his mind.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

(y/n) had been adamant about having their movie night the same night he gets back to Tokyo. With the jet lag and the time difference keeping him awake against his wishes, she was sure that having a relaxed evening inside would be the best way to ease him back into being at home.

Yuuta, on the other hand, tried to make it clear that they didn’t have to rush into it. His flight would land at eleven in the evening, and he was sure he wouldn’t even be back to campus before midnight. While it might have felt like early afternoon to him, (y/n) would have already had a full day of lessons and training, and likely be exhausted by that time.

However she was stubborn. It didn’t matter how much he tried to persuade her otherwise, she remained certain that she would stay awake long enough to greet him and have a simple, fun night set up for them.

And who was he to fight too hard against it anyways? The idea of her going through the trouble and wanting to stay up so late just to see him gave him energy for the whole day. He was smiling through customs, bouncing his leg waiting to board, texting her as much as possible before he’d have to put his phone on airplane mode, and greeting every employee and flight attendant with so much delight it was infectious. He’d even gotten an extra package of goldfish for his delightful friendliness.

He’s as quick as can be picking up his checked luggage and rushing out of the airport. Anyone who saw might have thought he was late, but in actuality he was trying to be as early as possible. He’d practically crashed into Ijichi, almost racing past him, but just as quickly recognition flashed in his eyes and he gave the manager a bone crushing hug, forgetting his strength.

The man was alarmed by the affection, awkwardly patting the boy’s back before stepping out of the embrace and nervously laughing. He leads Yuuta out of the building and towards the sleek black car that’s waiting to take him home. Yuuta’s positively buzzing the whole ride. It’s obvious that Ijichi is tired, it’s almost the middle of the night after all, but he does find some amusement in Yuuta’s pure and unfiltered excitement.

However when the boy shouts for a pit stop at a local twenty-four hour grocery shop, the man almost drives the car right off the road, slamming on the brakes and pulling over roughly enough to wake him up completely. If Yuuta notices the harsh driving maneuvers, he doesn’t say anything. Simply grabbing his wallet and rushing inside the building. Ijichi swears all these kids pumped full of muscles and adrenaline would be the death of him.

Yuuta comes back with a full paper bag and a grin, thanking the manager as they continue the drive home without a hitch.

He shouldn’t have the energy he does when they arrive, but Ijichi watches in shock as Yuuta easily carries all of his bags and the delicate groceries and breaks into a full sprint for the dorms, hollering one last thank you as he does.

He’s unceremonious as he drops his things in his room. There is a certain comfort in being back in a space he can contently call his own, but the welcome home nap he was so eager to take in his own bed could wait. He leaves his things and is swept away by his own two feet as he hurries down the hall.

There’s the faintest of light peeking out under only one door, all the others tightly shut and seemingly dark inside. It was past midnight, and there were lessons first thing tomorrow morning. He’s hesitant for only a second as he reaches the door, but adrenaline takes over again and he’s knocking as quietly as he can.

He can barely hear someone inside, although he doesn’t make out any real words. Just to be safe, he knocks again.

“H’llo?” A tired voice calls back a little louder this time.

Yuuta’s hand is shaking when he reaches for the latch and slides the door open, just barely peeking inside.

He’d seen (y/n’s) room maybe once in passing, but he hadn’t taken a real glance, and definitely never stepped inside. Now, he takes it all in with his face lit up in pure astonishment.

It’s decorated with string lights, soft and twinkling slowly here and there. Just enough to give some ambience without it being overpowering. Her small television is flickering with the title screen of her adored movie. She’s curled up in a heap of blankets on the bed, and for a few seconds he thinks she’s asleep. But her head tiredly lifts to see who her visitor was, and like a switch, she’s full of energy.

“Yuuta!”

His name falls from her lips in soft awe, and she’s throwing her blankets back and sitting upright, shifting to get out of bed. Yuuta’s beaming back at her, stepping into the room and turning to slide the door shut behind him. The others would be quite annoyed if they were to be woken up at this hour.

She’s stumbling a bit towards him, her arms outstretched and her face in a lazy grin. It takes no time at all for her to cross the room and throw her arms around him to hug him tightly. Yuuta’s careful to hold his bag of goodies to the side so they don’t get crushed when he reciprocates the tight hug.

He hadn’t hugged her before he left for Africa. He hadn’t hugged anyone, actually. Just waved as he bid them goodbye. Hugging her now feels like something he’d waited for for ages, and finally getting to hold her against him has his heart soaring.

“You’re finally home,” She’s smiling into his chest, and pulls away only so she can grin up at him, properly taking in his pretty eyes and longer hair. She’s just about to comment on the change in style before she notices the bag in his hand, and focuses on it instead. “Did you bring gifts?” She asks with a playful smirk.

“Uh- yeah, I mean, sorta,” He stammers, his face getting warmer than he would’ve liked as he opens the bag and glances inside, suddenly apprehensive about handing them to her. “It’s not from Africa, but they are necessities,” He tells her.

(y/n) raises a brow curiously, before prompting him to show her what he brought.

Yuuta’s sheepish as he reaches in the bag and produces a family size package of lemon flavored oreos. It seemed like a great idea when he’d picked them up, but now he feels anxiety twisting in stomach as he presents them to her.

“Lemon oreos!” (y/n’s) nothing short of delighted as she takes the package from his hands, already peeling back the plastic to snatch one and take a bite right away. She hums as she finishes the cookie, her eyes twinkling with happiness as she seals the package again. “You remembered, thank you. We’ll definitely finish those tonight” She says with a laugh.

“Don’t worry, I brought my own snack, they’re all yours” He says softly. She brightens even further at the prospect.

“You really know the way to a woman’s heart, Okkotsu” She teases.

After months of getting teased over the phone, he finally gets to witness it first hand. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes shift between his and other spots around the room bashfully. He wonders if she was always so shy when she’d teased him before.

His smile softens as he reaches into the bag again, carefully holding the other gift as he pulls it from the bag. (y/n’s) eyes widen and her lips part as she takes in the sight of the beautiful arrangement of flowers he was holding. It was simple, a pretty bouquet of lilies, lily of the valley, to be specific, she recognized them as the same white flowers scattered around the courtyard. Her eyes were locked on the bouquet as Yuuta picked around it a bit, making sure every flower was perfect and presentable.

“It’s not, uh, the most expensive bouquet in the world,” He mumbles anxiously once he deems the flowers pretty enough to hand to her.

She looks up at him as though silently asking if they were really for her, her surprise evident in the way she stared at him in soft surprise before she finally took the flowers. Her movements are slow and so, so careful, not wanting to bend a single stem out of place.

“But, still, um,” With his hands free Yuuta begins to fiddle, scratching at the nape of his neck as he struggles to meet her gaze. “Y’know, I just wanted to… give you flowers”

A smile breaks out across her face as she leans close to them to take in a whiff, soothed by the gentle, clean scent that fills her nose.

“I love them,” She murmurs, still staring in awe at the pretty arrangement. “Can I take a picture?” She asks, and he nods wordlessly. He finally takes in a breath of air when she turns around to grab her phone from the bed, not having realized he’d been holding it since handing her the intimate gift.

What he doesn’t realize is she’s bounding back over to him with her phone in hand, the camera flipped around so she can take a selfie of her flowers with him very much in it.

“C’mon, smile!” She giggles as she turns her phone sideways, eyeing the image of him with his blushing face and wide eyes, obviously caught off guard.

She snaps the photo when he throws up a peace sign and gives the most relaxed smile he can, his eyes closed and his cheeks undeniably pink. (y/n) admires it before tucking her phone back into her pocket and clutching the flowers close to her chest lovingly.

“Thank you so much,” She gives them one last affectionate glance before tucking them carefully into a jar on her desk- after she dumped all the pens in it onto her workspace without a second thought. Yuuta almost laughed at how quickly she made the mess and left it in order for the bouquet to have a safe home. Once she’s sure they’re safe and sound, she turns back to him again.

It’s funny how out of place he looks standing in her doorway. Long legs and broad shoulders taking up more space in her room than she would’ve thought. She’d almost forgotten how large Yuuta was. Somehow, it made it funnier that he looked so lost. Like he didn’t want to take a step, and didn’t know what to do with his hands. She could tell he was trying his best to come across as comfortable as he could, but she could see the wince behind his smile, and his slowly shifting feet.

He looks out of place now, but she likes having him here. She likes that he smells like sandalwood, and something sweet like vanilla. She likes that he’s still holding the paper bag that he’d brought her gift in, not wanting to drop it somewhere in her room like a piece of litter. She likes that when their eyes meet he smiles, and crinkles form on his eyes that compliment his blushing face.

She likes everything about Yuuta, but right now, she likes that he was the first boy to ever bring her flowers most of all.

So despite her racing heart, she decides to tell him so.

“I’m glad you were the first guy to ever give me flowers”

Yuuta’s smile drops slightly as his face softens with surprise, eyebrows raising higher when she steps even closer to him.

He’s holding his breath again when she leans onto the tips of her toes and pressing a quick kiss to his warm cheek. The feeling of her lips brushing over his skin only makes it heat up more, and against his will he lets out a little gasp for air. (y/n) giggles when she stands flat on her feet again, her nose slightly wrinkled at her amusement at how easily Yuuta flusters.

She’s starting to think to herself that she should test just how much she can fluster him while he’s here, when he’s suddenly the one taking her breath away.

He steps forward to close the distance between them again, dropping the paper bag so he can slide his hands under her jaw, tilting it upwards so he can lean down and kiss her with ease. A gasp dies in the back of her throat just as his lips touch hers, the hesitation from her surprise only momentary.

For a soft kiss, Yuuta radiates so much passion her knees feel weak, and her hands are firm as they press into his shoulders, desperate to keep herself upright. Even his hands are gentle, their touch warm and featherlight against her face.

She longs to press impossibly closer and explore his every last dip and crevice, but for right now, everything is perfect. His gentleness, his sweetness, him, she couldn’t have hoped for a more lovely first kiss.

Just as the kiss was, he pulls away slowly, forehead still touching hers. A short sigh escapes him before his lips turn into a smile. (y/n) watches as his mouth stretches and curls, her own face mirroring the expression, before her eyes flicker up to his to see he’s staring down at her.

“Sorry, I-” He shakes his head, trying to find just the right words to tell her how long he’d been thinking about doing that. His mind is too foggy so he runs his mouth with abandon. “I’ve just really wanted to do that” He murmurs.

(y/n) giggles, her face blooming with color at the blatant confession. It had her heart going haywire even more after the kiss, and any hopes of being the one to fluster him goes out the window. She’s putty in his hands and he must know it.

“Don’t be sorry,” She whispers back, shyly averting her gaze, not that it does her any favors, he’s still cradling her face and keeping her so close that it felt there was no shying away from him. “I… I was hoping to talk to you, um, when you got back,” She says, the grin on her face betraying her as she tried to casually mention her feelings for him. “About, y’know, hanging out more, ‘n stuff”

Yuuta chuckles at her bashful nonchalance, nodding his head back at her with an excited gleam in his eyes.

“I’d like to hang out more and stuff,” He hums, dropping his hands from her face and nodding to where she’d set up the movie hours earlier. “Should we start with watching your movie?”

Excitement flashes in her eyes as she nods her head back at him, before taking his hand and tugging him over to the comfort of her bed.

“Settle in, your mind is about to be blown by literary perfection and cinematic masterpiece. This is their love child”

He chuckles, falling into the mattress with her and getting settled against the mountain of pillows at her headboard while she searches her blankets for the remote. His chest is still vibrating with adrenaline, but as he sinks into a comfortable bed for the first time in months, he finds himself relaxing.

Despite his body feeling like it was the late afternoon, he feels as though he could go right to sleep.

It helps when (y/n) passes out first. Her body slumps against his and she snores softly against his chest. It’s such an amusing sight he can’t help but take a photo for her to wake up to in her messages. He pauses the movie so that they can pick it up from where they left off tomorrow, and then settles deeper into the cozy bed.

The comfort he felt with every text received from her, every phone call to keep him company in the last few months of being away and being alone, it seems almost personified now. Resting here beside her, simply sharing the same space, Yuuta feels the same wave of relief now. He can’t help but smile to himself as he settles under the covers, being careful to not disturb her peaceful slumber.

He’s asleep in a matter of minutes. The warmth of her body so close and the plush mattress working together to put his mind at such ease he didn’t even notice he was tired until he was closing his eyes and drifting off.

It was good to be home.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ fuck it, i love you // fuck it, i love you // fuck it, i love you // i really do ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

a/n: gojo pays the international phone bills obviously so don't be commenting on it

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