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solxamber · 4 months ago

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Rest Assured - Jamil Viper x reader

4 times you see Jamil nearing his breaking point and the 1 time you intervene

You’ve always prided yourself on being observant. Some might call it nosy, but you prefer thoughtful. After all, if you didn’t keep an eye on things, who would? Especially when it came to someone like Jamil Viper, who, despite his best efforts to appear unfazed, was absolutely not fine.

And lately, it’s been like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

The guy was practically doing everything—cooking, cleaning, managing Kalim, studying, practicing, and dealing with an endless amount of Scarabia chaos. But today? Today felt like the universe decided to crank up the difficulty setting on his life, and you were determined to intervene. But first, you needed to observe.

Instance 1: Spaghetti Saga

It began in the kitchen, where Jamil was, unsurprisingly, cooking for the entire dorm. Kalim, bless his overly-enthusiastic heart, had announced a Scarabia Spaghetti Spectacular—an idea that seemed innocent enough on the surface. Until you realized that Kalim had no intention of helping. Well, he tried. Keyword: tried.

“Jamil! Jamil!” Kalim ran into the kitchen, arms full of ingredients that had no business being in spaghetti. “Look! I found some strawberries! And these marshmallows! They’d go perfectly in the sauce, right?”

Jamil froze mid-stir, his hand gripping the spoon so tightly you were concerned it might snap in two. Slowly, he turned to face Kalim, a polite but strained smile plastered across his face. “Strawberries? In spaghetti sauce?”

Kalim nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! It’s sweet, right? Sweet is good!”

Jamil’s eye twitched, just a little. “Kalim… no.”

“But—”

“No strawberries. No marshmallows. Please.”

Kalim deflated slightly but wasn’t deterred. “Okay! No problem! I’ll just add them to the salad instead.”

Before Jamil could react, Kalim darted off, presumably to wreak havoc on the next innocent dish. You caught the moment Jamil whispered to himself, “I’m in hell.”

And that was only the beginning.

Instance 2: Basketball Breakdown

The next incident occurred during basketball practice. Now, Jamil was usually the best player on the court, no question. Quick reflexes, sharp strategy—he could wipe the floor with the other teams without even breaking a sweat. But today?

Today, it was like he forgot what a basketball was.

It started innocently enough. A pass here, a dribble there, nothing out of the ordinary. But then one of the players tossed him the ball, and Jamil, in a moment that defied all logic and reason, missed it entirely. The ball smacked him square in the face with an audible thud.

The gym went silent. You could hear the collective gasp from the team, all eyes on Jamil, who stood there frozen, gripping his nose.

“Jamil!” Kalim shouted from across the court, jogging over. “Are you okay? Here, I brought some ice just in case!” He whipped out a handful of ice cubes from his pocket, offering them as if this was a totally normal thing to do.

Jamil stared at him, then at the ice cubes, and for a brief moment, you swore you saw his soul leave his body. But instead of snapping, he simply nodded, took the ice cubes, and walked off the court in silence, leaving everyone else standing there in stunned confusion.

“Did he just—?” one of the players started to ask, but you shook your head. “Don’t.”

You made another mental note. This was getting serious.

Instance 3: Paperwork Pandemonium

After practice, you found Jamil in his dorm room, surrounded by a sea of paperwork. And, of course, Kalim was there too, oblivious to the storm brewing in Jamil’s head.

“Jamil, can you help me organize these?” Kalim asked, holding up a stack of papers. “I don’t really know what half of them are, but they seem important!”

Jamil glanced at the pile with a deadpan expression. “Kalim, that’s the inventory for the next three months. You were supposed to file this weeks ago.”

Kalim blinked, still smiling. “Oh… well, I knew it was important!”

Jamil’s fingers twitched as he grabbed the papers from Kalim, scanning them quickly. “These are all overdue. We’re going to get fined if we don’t submit them by tomorrow.”

Kalim’s eyes widened in horror. “Tomorrow?! Oh no! What are we gonna do?”

Jamil took a deep breath, visibly restraining himself. “We aren’t going to do anything. I am going to fix this. Again.”

Kalim, ever the optimist, beamed. “Thanks, Jamil! You’re the best!”

And with that, he was off to who knows where, leaving Jamil alone in the paperwork disaster zone. You watched as he stared at the pile in front of him, his eye twitching again. He muttered something under his breath—something you were pretty sure wasn’t very polite.

You added another mental note. He was hanging by a thread.

Instance 4: The Final Straw (Almost)

The fourth instance happened later that evening, when you found Jamil in the library, supposedly studying for finals. But when you approached his table, you found him sitting there, staring blankly at a textbook. His pen was poised over a page, but he hadn’t written a single word.

“Hey,” you said softly, sitting down next to him. “How’s studying going?”

He didn’t answer at first, just continued staring at the book like it held all the answers to his existential crisis. Finally, he sighed. “I can’t do this.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t… I can’t handle all of this. Kalim. Finals. The dorm. Everything.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice. “It’s too much.”

You stared at him for a moment, then reached over and gently placed your hand on his. “You don’t have to handle it all by yourself, you know.”

He looked up at you, exhaustion clear in his eyes. “Who else is going to do it? Kalim? The other students? No one can do it like I can.”

You could hear the defeat in his voice, the resignation. He truly believed he was stuck in this never-ending cycle of responsibilities, with no way out.

That was it. You’d seen enough.

The Fifth Time’s the Charm: Break Time for Jamil

Without another word, you grabbed Jamil by the arm and pulled him out of the library. He barely had the energy to protest, following you like a zombie as you led him to a quiet, secluded spot in the courtyard. Once there, you gently pushed him down onto a bench.

“Sit,” you ordered, and to your surprise, he didn’t argue.

He sat there, looking completely drained, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion. You sat next to him, feeling your heart twist as you saw just how close he was to breaking down. This wasn’t the Jamil you were used to—this was someone who had been running on fumes for way too long.

You didn’t even think. You just acted. Before he could react, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

Jamil stiffened at first, clearly not used to such open displays of affection. But after a few seconds, he slowly relaxed, leaning into your embrace like a man who had been drowning and finally found a lifeline.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You hugged him tighter, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I know. You’ve been doing too much for too long. You need a break.”

“I can’t,” he muttered, shaking his head. “There’s too much to do.”

“Screw the to-do list,” you replied. “You’re not a machine, Jamil. You need to rest, or you’re going to collapse.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just leaned into you, letting himself be vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. You could feel the tension slowly draining from his body, the weight of his responsibilities finally lifting, if only for a moment.

And then, before you knew it, he was asleep.

You blinked in surprise, looking down at his head resting in your lap. His breathing had evened out, and his face, usually so guarded and composed, was now relaxed in peaceful slumber.

You couldn’t help but smile, gently running your fingers through his hair. He needed this more than he’d ever admit. And you? You were more than happy to be his pillow.

Jamil didn’t wake up for a while, and when he finally did, it was gradual, the soft sunlight filtering through the trees casting a warm glow over the courtyard. His lashes fluttered against your lap, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion as he blinked awake. The moment he realized where he was, nestled against you, his cheeks flushed and honestly, he looked adorable.

“I—” Jamil began, his voice thick with grogginess as he pushed himself up, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles. “Did I fall asleep?”

You offered a soft smile, brushing a few strands of his hair away from his face. “Yep. Right in my lap, too. You must’ve been really tired.”

His eyes widened, and the blush on his cheeks deepened. Jamil rarely let his guard down, but right now, he looked almost vulnerable, caught between embarrassment and gratitude. “I’m… sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Jamil,” you interrupted gently, placing a hand on his arm to keep him from sitting up fully. “Don’t apologize. You’ve been running yourself ragged, and you finally let yourself rest. I’m glad you did.”

He stared at you, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. His shoulders sagged, and for once, he didn’t try to fight it. He stayed close to you, his body still angled toward yours, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull away completely.

You could see it, the weight of the exhaustion he’d been carrying for so long. The lines of stress etched into his face, the constant need to be on alert. Jamil had always been the responsible one, the one who took on everyone else’s burdens. But now, in this moment, you wanted to be the one to take care of him.

“Hey,” you said softly, threading your fingers through his hair again, watching as his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “How about we get out of here? Take a break. A real break.”

Jamil’s eyes opened, and he frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, let’s go somewhere. Just the two of us. Somewhere far away from all of this. No Scarabia, no endless responsibilities. Just… us.” You leaned in a little closer, lowering your voice as if you were sharing a secret. “You deserve it, Jamil. You’ve done more than enough. It’s time to take care of yourself.”

He hesitated, his frown deepening, as if the very idea of abandoning his duties was too much to comprehend. “I can’t just leave… there’s too much to do. Kalim—”

“Will be perfectly fine,” you interrupted, your tone leaving no room for argument. “And besides, I think Kalim would be all for this. In fact, I bet he’d love the idea.”

Jamil looked unconvinced, but before he could argue further, you gave him a gentle nudge. “Think about it. You could actually relax for once. No one bothering you, no one asking for a hundred different things at once. Just peace and quiet. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

He glanced down at his hands, clearly mulling over your words. You could tell he was struggling with the thought of letting go, even just for a little while. Jamil had been in control for so long, it was hard for him to imagine a world where he didn’t have to be.

But you weren’t about to let him slip back into that cycle.

Reaching out, you gently cupped his cheek, tilting his head up so he was looking at you again. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, Jamil. Let me take care of you for a change.”

His breath caught at your words, and for a long moment, he just stared at you, something soft and unspoken passing between you. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned into your touch, his eyes slipping closed as he exhaled a long, weary breath.

“I don’t know if I know how to relax,” he admitted quietly.

You chuckled softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Good thing you’ve got me then. I’ll teach you.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, with a small sigh, Jamil opened his eyes again, his gaze meeting yours. “You really think we could just… leave? Just like that?”

“Absolutely,” you said, the determination clear in your voice. “We’ll go somewhere beautiful, somewhere quiet. No one to bother us. Just you, me, and a whole lot of nothing.”

Jamil let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head slightly. “And what about Kalim? He’s bound to make a mess of things if I’m gone too long.”

“Don’t worry about him,” you said with a grin. “We’ll get him on board. Heck, Kalim will probably help us pack.”

And as if summoned by your words, Kalim himself appeared around the corner, grinning ear to ear like he’d just heard the best news of his life. “Did someone say vacation? I am so in!”

Jamil stared at him, his expression caught between disbelief and mild exasperation. “Kalim—”

Kalim bounded over to you both, practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, Jamil, this is perfect! You’ve been working so hard lately, you totally deserve a break! You should l go somewhere fun! Ooh, maybe a beach? Or the mountains! Or, ooh, how about a floating island? I heard there’s one with the best sunrises!”

“Kalim—” Jamil tried again, but Kalim was on a roll.

“I’ll even help you pack! I can get everything ready! Don’t worry about Scarabia, I’ve got it all covered!” Kalim’s grin widened as he clapped Jamil on the shoulder. “You just focus on relaxing!”

Jamil blinked, looking thoroughly overwhelmed by Kalim’s sudden enthusiasm. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“How about ‘yes’?” you teased, nudging him again. “Come on, Jamil. You deserve this. Let yourself have something nice for once.”

Jamil glanced between you and Kalim, clearly torn. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the part of him that still wanted to cling to his responsibilities, to keep everything in order. But then, slowly, his expression softened. He let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“…Fine,” he muttered, his lips curving into a small, tired smile. “But only if you promise we’re not going anywhere too ridiculous.”

Kalim’s eyes lit up, and he practically bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! Don’t worry, I’ll find the perfect spot! You’ll love it!”

But before Kalim could dash off in a whirlwind of excitement, there was a sound behind you that made you groan inwardly—Crowley.

The headmaster sauntered into view, his usual over-the-top grandeur evident in every step. “Vacation, you say? Oh, I’m afraid that won’t be possible! You see, I was just about to ask you two for some assistance with a few important matters—”

Before he could finish, Jamil stood up sharply, his expression darkening. For once, it wasn’t the usual calm, collected Jamil standing in front of you. This Jamil was one step away from grabbing Crowley by the collar and shaking him like a rag doll.

“Headmaster,” Jamil began, his voice low and dangerous, “I have been running this dorm, managing everything from meals to paperwork, while studying and handling Kalim’s disasters for months. I have not had a break. I am this close to losing my mind.”

Crowley blinked, clearly taken aback by Jamil’s sudden intensity.

“If you try to take this vacation from me,” Jamil continued, his tone flat but terrifying, “I swear I will not be responsible for what happens next.”

Crowley opened his mouth to protest, but one look at Jamil’s expression—wild-eyed, teetering on the edge—was enough to make him think twice. “Ah, well, I suppose the matters can wait! Yes, yes, of course! You both deserve some time off. Enjoy your… rest.”

Jamil didn’t wait for any further confirmation. He grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet, and shot Crowley a glare that could have melted steel. “We’re leaving. Now.”

You tried to suppress your laughter as Jamil practically dragged you away, Kalim bouncing along happily beside you.

Once you were a safe distance from the courtyard, Jamil finally slowed down, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He glanced down at you, his hand still holding yours.

“You really think this is going to work?” he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

You grinned, squeezing his hand gently. “Absolutely. I’ll make sure of it.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you saw Jamil smile—a real, genuine smile, soft and full of relief. He leaned in closer, his voice low as he whispered, “Thank you. For… everything.”

Your heart fluttered as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering just a little longer than necessary. “You deserve it,” you whispered back, resting your head on his shoulder. “And I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

Jamil chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around your waist as you both walked off, Kalim already rambling about potential vacation spots. But for now, you didn’t care where you were going. All that mattered was that it would be the two of you together.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #jamil x reader #jamil x you #jamil viper x you #jamil viper x reader #jamil #jamil viper

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hancorys · 3 days ago

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the egg project — myung jaehyun

genre: enemies to lovers, idiots to lovers, crack (bonedo dynamics mentioned) pairing: jaehyun x afab!reader wc: 4.6k warning: they're both a mess, non-stop banters. they kissed at the end. fought because of an egg. listen: antukin — rico blanco, i like me better — lauv, gusto ko lamang sa buhay — itchy worms, but i like you — boynextdoor

you don’t even remember the last time you and jaehyun had a normal conversation. not that you ever really did—because for as long as you’ve both been part of your respective sports teams, the only thing you’ve ever exchanged were complaints.

it started with the mess.

“seriously?” you had scoffed one evening, walking into the gym after the basketball team’s practice, only to find discarded water bottles, sweaty towels, and even an empty sports drink bottle rolling across the floor like a sad little tumbleweed.

the volleyball team had practice right after, and nothing pissed you off more than stepping onto a court that looked like a post-apocalyptic wasteland.

so, like any responsible captain, you took it upon yourself to find the root of the problem. and that root had a name: myung jaehyun.

“hey, jaehyun, clean up your team’s mess next time,” you had called out after one of your shared gym sessions.

jaehyun, who was in the middle of chugging a bottle of water, raised a brow at you. “our mess?”

“yes, yours.” you gestured to the abandoned pile of trash near the bench. “you leave the place looking like a hurricane hit.”

he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shrugged. “not my fault you’re allergic to a little dirt.”

“not my fault you guys are allergic to basic hygiene.”

leehan, who had been dribbling a basketball nearby, snorted. “dude, she’s got a point.”

“whose side are you on?” jaehyun shot him a glare before turning back to you. “we don’t even leave that much of a mess.”

you let out a short laugh, stepping forward and kicking an empty bottle toward him. it rolled to a stop right by his foot. “oh yeah? then whose bottle is this?”

sungho, who had just been passing by, took one look at the scene and immediately pointed at jaehyun. “definitely his.”

jaehyun gave him a betrayed look. “are you serious?”

“i mean, statistically speaking, it’s more likely to be yours than mine,” sungho said with a lazy shrug. “i actually clean up after myself.”

“that’s a lie and you know it.”

“okay, but do i leave sports drink graveyards on the court? no.”

you crossed your arms and smirked. “see? even your own team thinks you’re the problem.”

jaehyun groaned, bending down to pick up the bottle before lazily tossing it into the trash can. “there. happy now?”

“ecstatic,” you deadpanned. “now do that, but every time.”

from then on, it became an ongoing battle. jaehyun’s team kept leaving behind their junk, and your team kept glaring at them from across the gym. you never actually fought, not really, but there was an unspoken war between the two of you—one built entirely on glares, sarcastic remarks, and aggressively wiping down volleyballs while jaehyun walked past you like he owned the place.

one time, after another particularly messy practice, you had stormed into the basketball team’s locker room, ignoring the immediate groans and complaints from the players inside.

“again?” you huffed, pointing toward the gym doors. “why do i have to keep reminding you guys to pick up after yourselves?”

leehan, who was in the middle of changing into a fresh jersey, blinked at you. “damn, i thought we locked the door.”

“she probably kicked it open,” riwoo muttered, adjusting his towel around his neck.

jaehyun, who was seated on the bench, barely looked up as he tied his shoelaces. “maybe if your team spent less time complaining and more time training, you’d actually win more games.”

your jaw dropped. “excuse me?”

he finally glanced up, a teasing glint in his eyes. “just saying.”

taesan whistled lowly. “oh, you’re dead.”

woonhak patted jaehyun’s shoulder like he was saying his final goodbyes. “it was nice knowing you, man.”

you took a deep breath, shaking your head as you turned on your heel. “you know what? forget it. next time i see even one of your bottles on that floor, i’m chucking it at your head.”

“looking forward to it,” jaehyun called after you, clearly amused.

god, you hated him.

as if the universe wasn’t already laughing at you, things got even worse when your teams had to start training together.

your school had decided that since both the basketball and volleyball teams shared the same gym, you might as well train under the same program for conditioning sessions. this meant early morning drills, weight training, and endurance exercises—together.

it was hell.

not because the training was hard (you could handle that), but because it meant spending more time around him.

the first morning session was already off to a bad start.

“alright, everyone, pair up,” the coach announced. “we’ll be doing partner drills for today’s endurance training.”

immediately, you turned to find one of your teammates, but before you could move, a familiar presence slid up beside you.

“guess we’re stuck together,” jaehyun said, his voice way too chipper for someone who just ran two miles as a warm-up.

you scowled. “who says?”

he gestured around. sure enough, all the pairs had already been formed, leaving you and jaehyun as the only ones unpaired.

“unless you want to run laps alone, i’d say this is fate,” he added, smirking.

you groaned. “curse.”

the drill was simple—one person would hold a plank while the other jumped over them repeatedly. then, you’d switch. simple in theory. infuriating in practice.

you started first, dropping into a plank position while jaehyun jumped over you. the first few were fine. but by the fifth jump, you were sure he was messing with you.

“are you—” you gritted out, arms burning from holding yourself up, “—doing this on purpose?”

jaehyun landed smoothly before hopping over you again. “doing what?”

“jumping so damn slow.”

“you should be thanking me. i’m giving you more time to work on your arm strength.”

you clenched your jaw. “i swear to god—”

“switch!” the coach called.

you got up, shaking out your arms before shooting jaehyun a glare. “watch how it’s actually done.”

he smirked, lowering himself into a plank. “looking forward to it.”

you took a step back, bounced on the balls of your feet, and leapt.

you might’ve landed a little too close to his back.

“jesus—are you trying to kill me?” jaehyun yelped, bracing himself.

“oops,” you said, not looking the least bit sorry.

from then on, training together became a battle of who could annoy the other more.

—

but the worst part? meal times.

since both teams had the same conditioning schedule, the coaches thought it would be a great idea for you all to eat together in the dining hall. something about team unity and bonding.

you called it suffering.

because every single meal, without fail, jaehyun would find a way to sit across from you.

like today.

“morning, partner.”

you didn’t even look up from your tray of eggs and rice. “go away.”

“nah, i like it here.”

you stabbed at your food aggressively. “why are you like this?”

“like what?” he asked, reaching over to steal a piece of your egg with his fork.

you smacked his hand away. “like that!”

leehan, seated next to jaehyun, chuckled. “dude, one day she’s gonna actually throw hands.”

“and i’ll be ready,” jaehyun said, grinning at you.

you rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to your food, determined to ignore him. but then—

clink.

you glanced up. jaehyun had casually placed his sports drink on your side of the table.

you frowned. “what?”

he smirked. “just marking my territory.”

sungho nearly choked on his juice. “bro, that sounds so wrong.”

taesan snickered. “he means his half of the table.”

you glared. “i hate you all.”

━

and then there was the winking.

the first time he did it, you thought it was an accident.

the second time, you realized it definitely wasn’t.

but by the fifth time? you were convinced he was just doing it to piss you off.

during games, during practice, even in the hallways—jaehyun had made it his personal mission to wink at you whenever he got the chance.

like during one of their practice matches.

you had been forced to stay behind in the gym, waiting for your team’s turn. so, unfortunately, you had a front-row seat to watching jaehyunshow off.

you sat on the bleachers, arms crossed, watching as jaehyun dribbled past a defender with ridiculous ease. he moved with that effortless confidence, quick on his feet, spinning past his opponent before driving straight to the basket.

the ball swished through the hoop, nothing but net. his teammates erupted into cheers.

jaehyun turned, scanning the gym, and then—

wink.

you scowled immediately. “oh, for fuck’s sake.”

your teammate, yuna, who was sitting beside you, snorted. “what is his problem?”

“he is the problem,” you muttered, gripping your water bottle with unnecessary force.

yuna hummed, clearly entertained. “you know, for someone who ‘hates’ him, you sure do pay a lot of attention.”

“i have to! someone needs to keep his ego in check.”

as if to prove your point, jaehyun jogged back to his side of the court, smug as ever, and made direct eye contact with you again.

you knew what was coming.

another wink.

you groaned dramatically, throwing your head back. “i hate him.”

woonhak, who had overheard from the bench, grinned. “that’s funny, ‘cause he sure loves pissing you off.”

you shot him a glare. “gee, really? hadn’t noticed.”

━

the winking didn’t stop. if anything, it got worse.

during practice, in the dining hall, even when you passed him in the hallways—he somehow found a way to send you that stupid, infuriating wink.

like today, after your volleyball practice.

you had just finished a brutal set of drills, sweat dripping down your back, when you spotted the basketball team lingering near the entrance. they must’ve been waiting for their turn in the gym.

and, of course, jaehyun was right at the front.

you barely spared him a glance as you grabbed your water bottle from the bench, but that didn’t stop him.

“looking good, captain,” he called out.

you narrowed your eyes. “shut up, jaehyun.”

he laughed, raising his hands in surrender before winking.

you swore you saw red.

leehan, standing beside him, sighed. “dude, what if she actually kills you?”

“nah,” jaehyun said, grinning, “i think she’d miss me too much.”

you threw your towel at his face.

━

but as much as you hated to admit it, life was never boring with jaehyun around.

even when the two of you were forced into situations that made you want to rip your hair out—like the latest disaster your biology professor had cooked up.

the day had started out normal enough. until you got your test results back.

you stared at the glaring red F on your biology test, feeling your soul leave your body.

beside you, jaehyun whistled, holding up his own paper with an identical F. “ouch.”

you turned to glare at him. “why are you failing?”

he shrugged. “dunno. wasn’t paying attention.”

“of course you weren’t.”

before you could spiral into a full-blown academic crisis, your professor cleared his throat, looking way too pleased for someone who had just failed half the class.

“since many of you didn’t do well on the test,” he began, eyes twinkling mischievously, “i’ve decided to give you all an opportunity to redeem yourselves.”

murmurs filled the classroom. you remained suspicious.

“you will be given a partner—someone who also failed.”

you immediately got a bad feeling.

“together, you will complete an assignment on responsibility and care. an experiment, if you will.”

you glanced at jaehyun, who looked just as confused.

the professor smiled. “for the next week, you will take care of an egg.”

silence.

then—

“a what.”

the professor clasped his hands together. “an egg! consider it a simulation of caring for a delicate, fragile life. you must protect it at all costs and document your progress. and, of course, your partner will be chosen randomly.”

your stomach dropped.

and then—

“y/n and jaehyun,” the professor announced.

you slammed your head onto your desk.

jaehyun, meanwhile, let out a low whistle. “well. this should be fun.”

you turned your head slightly to glare at him, cheek still pressed against the desk. “i swear to god, if you break our egg, i’m breaking you.”

he grinned. “relax, partner. we’ve got this.”

you groaned. “this is literally my worst nightmare.”

jaehyun leaned back, crossing his arms. “nah. your worst nightmare is me leaving the gym extra messy just for you.”

you lifted your head just enough to glare at him. “don’t test me.”

he winked.

you nearly flipped your desk.

“now listen carefully,” your professor continued. “your assignment is simple. you must keep your egg safe for one full week. if it cracks, you fail. if you forget it somewhere, you fail. if i so much as suspect that you’re not taking this seriously, you fail.”

you felt a headache forming.

professor lee’s eyes narrowed. “and trust me, i’ll know.”

a collective shudder ran through the class. professor lee was infamous for his unconventional teaching methods. last semester, he had made students carry around cabbages as part of a psychology experiment. cabbages.

you glanced at jaehyun, who was still grinning like he had won the lottery.

he thinks this is a joke.

you groaned. “i’m so screwed.”

“nah,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “we got this.”

you turned to him, deadpan. “jaehyun. you literally failed this class.”

he placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “so did you.”

“yeah, but at least i actually tried.”

he snorted. “right. well, don’t worry, partner. our egg’s in good hands.”

you didn’t believe that for a second.

“one last thing,” professor lee added, holding up a basket. “before you leave, come up and receive your child.”

you almost choked.

child?

yuna was practically vibrating with laughter beside you. “you’re gonna be a great mom.”

“shut up.”

jaehyun, on the other hand, was already making his way to the front, completely unbothered. when he returned, he was holding the egg in his palm, studying it like it was some ancient relic.

“alright, partner,” he said, plopping into his seat. “meet our kid.”

you stared at it.

it was just a normal egg. nothing special. fragile, small, and already giving you anxiety.

“we’re so failing this,” you muttered.

jaehyun scoffed. “have a little faith.”

you gave him a pointed look. “jaehyun. be honest. how long do you think you can go without dropping it?”

he paused.

then—

“...three days?”

you groaned again.

this was going to be the longest week of your life.

—

the first day of the project was already testing every ounce of patience you had.

you and jaehyun sat at one of the library tables, your so-called child resting in an old coffee cup between you. professor lee had made it clear that this assignment wasn’t just about keeping the egg safe—you had to document everything. feeding schedules (which made zero sense), bedtime routines, and even bonding activities.

you hated every second of it.

“this is the dumbest thing i’ve ever done,” you muttered, tapping your pen against the table.

jaehyun, who was busy doodling little lightning bolts around the word thunder in your shared notebook, smirked. “that’s because you lack vision.”

“oh, i have vision. i see our grades plummeting.”

he leaned back in his chair, tossing his pen in the air before catching it effortlessly. “relax, co-parent. we just have to act like responsible adults for a week.”

you squinted at him. “you literally left the egg unattended five minutes ago to go buy chips.”

he waved you off. “our kid was fine. independent.”

“it's an egg.”

“it's our egg.”

you exhaled sharply, choosing to ignore him as you scribbled in the notebook. but then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught him reaching for the cup.

you tensed immediately.

“what are you doing?”

“holding my child.”

“no. no touching.” you moved the cup further away. “i don’t trust you.”

he looked genuinely offended. “wow. you were the one who almost knocked it over earlier.”

“because you distracted me!”

“because you were making that stupid face while writing.”

“stupid face?” you gawked at him. “i do not make a stupid face.”

he shrugged. “if the shoe fits.”

you smacked his arm with the notebook. “contribute to this or i’m making you do the whole thing by yourself.”

“fine, fine,” he sighed, taking the pen from you. he twirled it between his fingers before scrawling something next to your notes.

you glanced at the paper.

“bonding activity: jaehyun teaches the egg how to shoot a three-pointer.”

you stared at him.

“you’re a menace,” you said.

he grinned. “and yet, here we are. bonded for life.”

you groaned, dropping your head onto the table.

and somewhere in the distance, leehan and taesan—who had been watching from another table—exchanged glances before bursting into quiet laughter.

the first time you stepped into jaehyun’s room, you had one goal: check on the egg, make sure it was intact, and leave.

but of course, nothing was ever that simple with him.

“welcome to the nursery,” jaehyun said, kicking the door shut behind him.

you rolled your eyes. “nursery? it’s your room.”

“our son lives here now,” he replied, completely serious. “show some respect.”

you sighed, stepping past him. his room was… surprisingly neat. you expected a mess—basketballs lying around, clothes thrown over furniture, maybe even an unmade bed. but aside from a few scattered notebooks and a pile of hoodies in the corner, it was normal.

too normal.

“where is it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

jaehyun walked over to his desk and held up a small shoebox. he lifted the lid, revealing the egg nestled in a bundle of socks.

you blinked. “you put it in a box?”

“i made a crib,” he corrected, placing the box gently on his bed. “cozy, right?”

you sat down at the edge of the bed, peering inside. "you could’ve at least used a tissue or something instead of Nike socks."

“those are premium cushioning. only the best for our kid.”

you scoffed, but you couldn’t deny that the egg was perfectly fine. untouched. safe.

and then, jaehyun did something unexpected—he sat next to you. not across from you, not at his desk, but right next to you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off of him.

the usual chaos, the usual bickering, the usual tension that made you want to strangle him—it was still there. but something else settled in between the silence.

it was different here.

“so,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “how’s it feel knowing our son sleeps in my room?”

you turned to glare at him, but the second you did, you realized just how close he was.

your breath caught.

he was leaning on one arm, watching you with a lazy smirk, the kind that usually annoyed you to no end. but here, in this room, on this bed, it felt like something else.

something you didn’t want to name.

“i don’t care where it sleeps,” you muttered, looking away. “i just don’t want it broken.”

“i’ll take care of it,” he said, and for once, there was no teasing in his tone.

you swallowed. “good.”

but when you tried to stand up, he didn’t move.

“jaehyun.”

“hm?”

“move.”

he grinned. "say please."

you shoved his shoulder, and he finally let you go with a laugh, flopping back onto the bed as you practically sprinted for the door.

“same time tomorrow, co-parent?” he called after you.

you slammed the door behind you, heart pounding.

your hell starts the moment you start noticing things about jaehyun that you shouldn’t be noticing.

it’s the way he moves on the court—fast, precise, like he already knows exactly where the ball will land before it even gets there. it’s the way he runs a hand through his hair when he’s frustrated, the way he rolls his shoulders before a free throw, the way his eyes flicker to you after making a perfect shot, as if waiting for your reaction.

and it’s infuriating.

because now, even when you’re supposed to be focusing on your game, your team, your own plays—jaehyun lingers at the back of your mind like an annoying pop song you can’t get rid of.

but the worst part? it’s not just at the gym.

it’s when you’re in his room, sitting on his bed, checking on the egg like always. except now, you’re hyperaware of how close he sits, how he sometimes lets his arm rest against yours like it’s nothing. how, when you pout at him over something stupid—like the way he insists on calling your egg “junior” instead of a normal name—his gaze flickers to your lips for half a second too long.

and jaehyun?

he’s in denial.

because this was not supposed to happen. he wasn’t supposed to want to kiss you when you scolded him. wasn’t supposed to feel heat creeping up his neck when you absentmindedly played with your necklace while talking. wasn’t supposed to care that your team captain from another school once called you “impressive” after a practice match.

he wasn’t supposed to want you.

and unfortunately for him, his friends have noticed.

“so,” woonhak drawls one afternoon, lazily dribbling a basketball as they sit on the bleachers, watching you and your team wrap up practice. “when are you gonna admit it?”

jaehyun doesn’t even look up. “admit what?”

leehan snorts. “that you like her, dumbass.”

“i don’t,” jaehyun scoffs, leaning back against the bench.

sungho raises a brow. “right. that’s why you’re staring at her like she personally offended you by existing.”

jaehyun looks away immediately, only for leehan to chuckle.

“you do realize she probably feel the same way, right?”

that makes jaehyun freeze for a second.

taesan hums. “she still argue with you, sure. but i see the way she get all flustered when you compliment her. she didn’t used to react like that.”

jaehyun opens his mouth to deny it again, but then he thinks back.

to the way you stumbled over your words last week when he casually told you your spike was getting better. to the way your breath hitched when he tucked your hair behind your ear. to the way you hesitated before leaving his room the other night, as if you were starting to feel this too.

maybe his friends were right.

and that’s when jaehyun decides: it’s time to test the waters.

so he starts pushing boundaries—just a little.

at the gym, after practice, he doesn’t just wink at you like usual. he lingers, waiting for you to react, grinning when you groan and shove him away.

when you come over to check on the egg, he always has food ready, pretending it’s no big deal when he slides a plate toward you.

“i didn’t ask for this,” you huff, poking at the meal he made.

“didn’t say you did,” he shrugs, sitting across from you. “but you always look tired after practice. eat.”

and that confuses you.

because what the hell is he doing? what the hell does he want?

you’d always known jaehyun as the annoying basketball captain who drove you insane, but now…

now he’s holding your hand a second longer than necessary. now he’s calling you “co-parent” with a lazy grin that makes your stomach twist in a way you don’t want to acknowledge. now he’s casually running a hand through his hair while watching you in between classes, like he knows something you don’t.

and you hate that it scares you.

because if this is just another game to him, if he’s just messing with you—then why does it feel so real?

the egg cracks.

not metaphorically—though, honestly, it might as well be—but literally.

you’re standing in jaehyun’s room, holding what used to be your child (as he so dramatically called it), staring at the jagged fracture running across the eggshell. your breath catches in your throat.

“oh, shit,” you whisper.

jaehyun, who had been leaning against his desk, looks up from his phone. “what?”

you slowly turn to him, the broken egg cradled in your hands like a crime scene.

“we killed junior.”

for a moment, there’s silence. then—

“oh my god,” jaehyun breathes out, eyes widening.

“we’re failures.”

“we’re murderers.”

“professor lee is going to slaughter us.”

“okay, first of all,” jaehyun says, quickly moving toward you, “you’re the one who dropped it—”

“don’t you dare pin this on me.”

“—and second,” he continues, ignoring you, “we just need a replacement.”

you blink at him. “you want to… replace our child?”

“wouldn’t be the first time people switched babies at birth,” he shrugs.

“you’re insane.”

“do you want to fail?”

you purse your lips. no. but—

jaehyun sighs. “look, we can sit here mourning an egg, or we can fix the problem. your call.”

you scowl at him, but he’s right. begrudgingly, you set the cracked egg down and grab your bag.

“fine. but if we get caught—”

“we won’t,” he grins, already grabbing his car keys and intertwining his hand with yours, “let’s go, co-parent.”

—

you manage to replace the egg. you turn in your project. you pass.

but that’s not the ending.

the ending is this:

it’s late, and you’re at jaehyun’s house, sprawled out on his bed like always. the ceiling fan hums softly overhead, casting slow-moving shadows against the walls. the scent of his cologne lingers in the air—clean, familiar, a little too comforting. he’s sitting at the edge of the bed, lazily spinning a basketball on his finger, gaze half-lidded with concentration.

you’re supposed to feel relieved. the project is over. the ridiculous assignment, the stress, the stupid arguments—you survived it all. but your head is still spinning, not from exhaustion, but from something else. something heavier.

because things have shifted. you don’t bicker as much anymore. the teasing has changed. the tension isn’t sharp—it’s something softer now, something unspoken that curls around the edges of your conversations. something that lingers in the way his eyes stay on you a little longer than they should.

“so,” jaehyun says suddenly, voice cutting through the quiet. “you’re still thinking about it.”

you blink at him. “thinking about what?”

he finally looks at you, and the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s amused.

“us.”

your stomach flips. you sit up too fast, the mattress dipping beneath you. “there’s no us.”

jaehyun smirks. slow. knowing. like he’s heard the lie in your voice before you even said it.

“sure,” he hums, spinning the ball again. “but i think about it.”

your breath hitches.

“what?”

he tosses the ball aside. it rolls off the bed, thudding softly onto the carpet, but you barely hear it over the sudden rush of blood in your ears. because he’s shifting, leaning in, invading your space in a way that makes your pulse stutter.

closer than necessary. closer than friends should be.

“i think about how much fun it is to piss you off,” he murmurs, and his voice is different this time—lower, rougher. “i think about how much i like having you around.”

his hand lifts, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. the touch is barely there, but it burns.

“and i think about how, if i kissed you right now, you wouldn’t stop me.”

your breath catches.

because he’s right.

but the worst part? you don’t want to stop him.

you don’t move when his gaze flickers down to your lips. you don’t push him away when his fingers graze your jaw, thumb tracing slow, feather-light circles against your skin.

and when he finally tilts his head and closes the distance, when his lips press against yours in something hesitant but undeniably real—

you kiss him back.

226 notes · View notes

panbotter · 9 months ago

Note

Hey so in reference to my previous ask, can you do one were the reader is having trouble controlling their powers (you can decide those) and either Kurt or Erik comfort them after a bad day and end up confessing to the reader. You can ad smut if you want but if not that's totally fine too☺️.

Your Existence is Grand

Erik Lehnsherr x gn!reader

Erik notices you having a rough day with your powers and decides to shower you with praise.

(This is my first fanfic literally ever so feedback appreciated, but also... Sorry for any mistakes!!!!)

Trigger warnings: cursing, suggestive themes (I don't know what else to write here, pls let me know if there's anything else I should add!)

The air around me begins buzzing and crackling, becoming charged with electricity and I sigh, deeply frustrated before I reach for the metal doorknob in front of me and receive a shock so strong that all the muscles in my arm cramp up painfully. I curse under my breath, forcing my arm to bend and stretch the tense muscles as I walk into the lounge, getting a glimpse of the others outside. Some might say I’d been gifted with a particularly powerful mutation, that it made me strong and intimidating. That I am admired for it, as if it’s a blessing to be grateful for.

But in this god-forsaken world, all I could see was a curse that plagued my body. I never bothered to understand the science behind it, as much as others might have tried to explain it to me. Something about the electricity in my body behaving abnormally, affecting the air around me and in turn, other electronics or conductors of electricity, turning me into a walking hazard around power lines, or thunderstorms. Let's not even mention the sheer amount of electrical fires I’ve caused. Sure, it sounds cool. But the reality is basically hell.

One of the ‘best’ parts about my mutation is that it is terribly unstable, especially when you’re constantly surrounded by electricity no matter where you go. Everyone else who charges up some static then touches a piece of metal receives a little sting from a silly little shock. It might be a little funny or perhaps surprising! Maybe it happens when you touch fingers with someone else and you shock each other, what a cute moment!

Try getting fucking electrocuted every single time.

Nowhere near as cute, nor as fun.

Some days are worse than others and the more restless I become, the worse it is for me in the end. But unfortunately, I can’t lay in bed immobile for an entire day to lower the voltage my body is producing, resulting in my current conundrum. Avoiding the rest of the X-Men in order to avoid any potential accidents, especially with Jubilee. Fireworks and a highly-charged mutant body surrounded by a bunch of high-tech only spells out bad news. Luckily, it seems like most of them were outside on the basketball court. That’s what I thought, at least.

“I take it you’re having a bad voltage day?” the voice of none other than Magneto startles me out of my thinking. It’s been more than a few months of him living here with us, but his presence is still unexpected. I had a hard time training the knee-jerk defensive reaction out of my body for the first few days, my body becoming charged up so quickly that I wouldn’t even have the chance to blink before I shot a bolt of electricity at him.

He was quick to show that a little spark didn’t do much to him, given that he was essentially a walking magnetic field.

I turn to him, his large form standing at the entrance to the lounge, “What makes you say that?” I turn back to watch as Scott and Logan start another argument, their voices muffled by the glass.

“The air keeps crackling and I have a hard time believing there’s a storm inside the building” he approaches until he pauses at my side. I chuckle a little, giving a wince once I feel my sore muscles constrict. He turns to watch me.

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe Storm has had enough of those two at each other’s throats” I try to joke but my voice falters, as my heart begins to race again and the sound of the air buzzing around me becomes overwhelming. Tremors begin rippling across my muscles, a mixture of them cramping and relaxing too fast for me to keep up with. Losing the strength in my legs, I stretch a hand out toward the glass in front of me to hold myself up but I miss the glass by a couple inches. Erik’s hands are quick to grab onto my arms before pulling me into his chest, supporting my weight as the crackling noise fills my ears and I let out a pained shout. My body releases a strong burst of electricity, most of it absorbed by Erik’s magnetic field, whilst the rest causes the power in the building to go out. I pant loudly, trying to catch my breath, feeling like my heart might’ve stopped in the middle of that.

The lights flicker around us before the power in the school hums back to life. Erik’s hands are still around me, I realize before beginning to step away, but his hold on me tightens. He pulls me back against his chest and I try to fight back the heat that’s slowly creeping up to my face. This is a bit embarrassing. I’ll admit it, I had grown to like Erik in the time he’d been with us, not to mention I had quite a few run-ins with him before I ever joined the X-Men. He always seemed so… Powerful, he always felt safe to be around. As radical as the Professor may claim he is, he always seemed… Right. You could hear the passion in his voice when he spoke of mutantkind and it made you want to side with him, to be loyal and to follow him to the ends of the Earth.

He had a powerful presence, and as I am now discovering, a powerful touch. One of the very few people who could come near me without fear of being electrocuted. My muscles had begun to twitch in the aftermath of the shock. These are the unfortunate moments where I wish I could be rid of my mutation. I could barely hold myself up and here I was in Erik’s arms.

“You should be resting” his voice was stern, but there was a hint of concern in there. I raise my gaze to meet his, feeling a bit of shame.

“I can’t just lay in bed all day, the world is still turning, there’s things to do…” I muttered.

“Precisely, the world is still turning and it will still continue to turn if you are at rest. You, on the other hand, are not a planet and you need to care for yourself”

I stare into his eyes, feeling them pierce through my soul. He always seemed to be right about everything… I chuckle under my breath as I regain some strength in my legs, straightening back up.

“I’m sure you must be tired of having to run after all of us like a babysitter” I joke as his arms come to rest on my shoulders once I’m stable on my feet.

A glint crosses his eyes, “I do wonder how Charles managed, and then I remember he’s a telepath, so it must’ve been quite easy for him” he replies with a smirk gracing his face that makes me laugh a little.

“He still struggled, you shouldn’t compare yourself to the Professor”

He begins to lead me toward the couch behind us, helping me take a seat before joining me. I still feel a hot streak of shame across my stomach, having him help me. Burdening him.

“Sorry, by the way… You’re right, I should be a little more considerate of others” I mutter.

Erik turns to look at me as I avoid making eye contact, “I don’t believe those were my words…” his hand reaches out toward my chin, gently turning my head to face him, “I only ask of you to rest and care for yourself, forget what the others may think”

I blinked up at him, “The Professor always wanted me to push past my limits, so that I can perhaps get stronger… Control my powers better”

“In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have to restrict your abilities, you could rule this planet with a wave of your hand, what you have is something to be proud of, not ashamed” he places his hand against my cheek and I find myself leaning against his warm touch, “Your mutation is a blessing, not a curse”

I scoff, “Sure doesn’t feel that way, I can’t even live among humans without shutting down an entire city’s power”

“Your powers shouldn’t be hidden, controlled, or restricted for the sake of humanity” he says the word with disdain, “but those are my beliefs, your existence is grand mein liebling”

My heart thumps against my chest loudly at his words. It feels… Intimate. How could he speak such high praise toward me?

“I see you hurt and I watch as you restrain yourself around others, as your mutation basically eats your body alive and it pains me…” his eyes gaze across my face, pausing at my lips before trailing back up to my eyes, “It pains me that you live in a world where you feel you cannot rest, where you feel you must hide the power within you”

“Erik…” I whisper, almost afraid to shatter the moment between us, “What are you… What are you saying…?” I peer into his eyes, seeing something brewing behind his gaze. Could it be possible that he’s… No, there’s no way.

“What do you believe I’m saying?” he whispers softly, leaning in toward me. I jump as a few sparks fly out from where he has his hand on my cheek. I can’t help my eyes dropping to his lips before rising back up to his eyes.

I feel the tension rise and in a desperate attempt to avoid it, I joke, “If I was delusional, I might think you’re trying to confess to me right now” I laugh a little to dispel the tension. His gaze was still just as intense so I failed, but I tried my best.

A smile graced his features, “Yes… Perhaps if you were delusional, you might see that I am actually confessing my feelings for you right now” he says it so casually I almost think he’s playing along with my joke, but as my eyes widen, so does his smile.

“Are you…?” my voice wavers a little. I feel my heart drop, realizing he’s probably joking with me. I turn away from his hand, lightly pushing his chest to put distance between us.

“Is this some sort of joke? Come on, Erik… You know that’s… It’s unrealistic” I mutter, a man like him would never love someone like me, that’s not how it works… Maybe in the movies, or in a fairytale perhaps.

“Mein liebling, perhaps I haven’t been clear enough with you” he wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me in close, closer than before, “do you prefer a visual demonstration instead? I can give you that, you only need to ask” he smiles before slowly leaning in, giving me enough time to back out if I wished, but I find myself leaning in, eager to feel his lips against mine.

As soon as our lips locked together, sealed at last, a burst of electric sparks flew out from our lips and I giggled into the kiss. I mean, how ironic is that? I felt real, literal sparks and fireworks from the kiss and it made my lips tingly. Erik smiles into the kiss before deepening it, his hand rising up toward my hair while the other trailed down my back and I found myself desperate to be closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, clumsily climbing over to sit on his lap. We part right as I begin losing my breath and he trails a burning, tingly trail of kisses down my jaw before he stops by my ear.

With a whisper that blew across the nape of my neck, “I see more than just greatness in you, so much more…” The words are charged with intention, passion, and sincerity. I shudder as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I bite back a moan as he continues kissing down my neck. I take a sharp breath in as he begins sucking on a tender spot before I suddenly realize what we’re doing…

Where we’re doing it.

I turn slightly to peek at the windows, making sure the others are still thoroughly distracted with playing before I feel Erik bite my skin and a moan breaks out, “Wait! Erik… We’re… In the lounge…”

He lifts his head, and the dark look in his blue eyes makes me clench my legs in anticipation, “We’ll just have to be fast… And quiet… Can you do that?” He taunts me with a question I don’t even get the chance to answer before he lays me down on the couch, climbing over me, “I’m just helping you relax, that’s not a sin, is it?” He looks down at me with a hungry gaze and I feel my cheeks burn.

“I guess not”

“Show me what else you can do with these sparks of yours”

570 notes · View notes

meazalykov · 2 months ago

Text

not as good as me

uswnt x clark!reader

summary: having a famous sister, especially in a different sport, means that you will never stop hearing her name

you are jogging along the pitch, the crisp tennessee air brushing against your skin as the training session unfolds before the match against iceland.

it’s routine at this point, the steady rhythm of your cleats hitting the grass blending with the sounds of your teammates calling out to one another. the coaches’ whistles punctuate the air, however, your focus shifts as you glance toward the lounge area in the crowd.

there, you see alex morgan—your mentor—chatting animatedly with someone you didn’t expect to see here: your sister, caitlin.

your steps falter for a moment, disbelief settling in. caitlin? here? you lift a hand to wave, catching their attention. alex waves back with her signature grin, while caitlin nudges her shoulder playfully and waves too.

your teammates notice your distraction, with tierna pressing a teasing smirk,

“earth to y/n, you good?”

you chuckle, shaking your head.

“yeah, just surprised.”

“by what?” eva probes as she comes up, jogging alongside you.

“my sister,” you reply, nodding toward the lounge.

“she’s here. wasn’t expecting that.”

“wait, the caitlin clark? indiana fever’s star guard? your sister?” eva’s eyes widen, impressed.

“okay, now i’m invested.”

you shrug modestly, though a smile tugs at your lips as you look at the psg player.

“yeah, that’s her.”

everything continues, but your thoughts keep drifting to caitlin. growing up, you both were each other’s biggest fans and fiercest competitors. it was funny, really. you used to spend hours dribbling basketballs in the driveway, while caitlin kicked soccer balls around. but as middle school ended, you switched sports like some cosmic joke, realizing where your true talents lay.

now, here you both are—professionals, being great in your respective fields.

the game against iceland is exciting. the energy in the stadium pulses with anticipation, and you feel it deep in your bones. from the first whistle, you’re locked in. the ball moves fluidly between you and your teammates, your control and precision unmatched.

the 53rd minute comes quickly. a perfectly timed pass from yazmeen lands at your feet, and with a quick shift of your weight, you swerve around a defender. the net beckons, and you don’t hesitate.

the ball sails past the keeper into the top corner. the crowd roars, and you glance up, instinctively searching for caitlin. she’s on her feet, clapping wildly.

just five minutes later, you strike again. this time, a long ball from lindsey finds you in stride. you take a touch to settle it before slotting it past the keeper. the celebration is louder this time. the crowd is chanting your name, “y/n clark, y/n clark!”

then, the hat trick. 62nd minute. a corner kick from emma floats into the box. you time your run perfectly, leaping above your marker to head the ball into the net. the stadium erupts, and you can’t help but grin. running toward the sideline, you form a heart with your hands and hold it up toward caitlin. somethign she always used to do for you during her college basketball games in iowa (before you left the states to go play for chelsea).

she mirrors the gesture, her smile wide and proud.

the final whistle blows, cementing a 3-0 victory for the uswnt. you’re named player of the match, a title you humbly accept as you make your way toward the sideline for post-game interviews.

espn sets up near the tunnel, and the interviewer, rachel, greets you warmly.

“y/n, another phenomenal performance tonight. a hat trick in under nine minutes—how are you feeling?”

you adjust your jersey and smile. “it feels amazing. the team played great, and i was just in the right place at the right time. couldn’t have done it without them.”

“let’s talk about this year,” rachel continues.

“you’ve had a stellar season with chelsea, making it to the semi-finals of the champions league, and now you’re excelling with the national team. not to mention, that olympic gold over the summer. how do you stay so consistent?”

you laugh lightly, running a hand through your damp hair.

“honestly, it’s just hard work and the support from my teammates and coaches. every day is a chance to get better, and i try to make the most of it.”

rachel grins, leaning in slightly. “we’ve got to talk about the clark household, though. your sister, caitlin, is also having an incredible year in the wnba. what’s it like having two star athletes in one family?”

you glance toward the stands, where caitlin is still seated. “it’s honestly pretty cool. cait’s killing it in basketball, and i couldn’t be prouder of her. we don’t get to see each other as much as we’d like, but when we do, it’s like no time has passed.”

“there’s been some sibling rivalry talk floating around,” rachel teases. “what do you say to that?”

you smirk, leaning into the microphone. “oh, cait is super good at her sport, but she’s not as good as me.” the surrounding crowd nearby laughs, and you quickly add, “but really, she’s amazing. growing up, we pushed each other to be better, and i think that’s a big reason why we’re both here today.”

later, you finally catch up with caitlin in the players’ lounge. she’s wearing one of your jerseys over her hoodie, her arms outstretched as you approach. “y/n clark, the soccer star!” she exclaims, pulling you into a tight hug.

“caitlin clark, the athlete of the year,” you counter, squeezing her back as you quote her upcoming time’s magazine.

she steps back, grinning.

“that hat trick was insane. under nine minutes? you’re ridiculous.”

“you’re one to talk,” you reply, nudging her. “how many threes did you hit last game?”

“only six,” she says with mock humility.

“but do not make this about me. you were incredible out there.”

alex joins the two of you, clapping a hand on your shoulder. oh, how much you’ve missed her since she announced her retirement.

“you’ve got a good sister here, y/n. she was hyping you up the whole game.”

“oh, i bet,” you say, giving caitlin a playful glare.

“she probably told you all my embarrassing stories, didn’t she?”

“maybe a few, but don’t worry i had a few as well,” alex admits, laughing.

caitlin shrugs innocently. “just the highlights.”

you shake your head, but your heart feels full.

masterlist

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #caitlin clark #wnba basketball #indiana fever

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lupinqs · 3 months ago

Text

CHAPTER TWELVE ━━ State Championship

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.4K

☆ ━ warnings: underage drinking, smoking

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: covid doesn’t exist in this fic yall. also… we only got like 2 maybe 3 more chapters left 😔😔 nearing the end

IT’S MARCH now, and Dani’s life feels as close to perfect as it ever has—though, like everything else in her world, it’s stitched together with careful seams, fragile and vulnerable to the wrong touch. She and Paige are inseparable, their relationship deepening with every stolen moment, every knowing glance, every night spent whispering beneath the glow of a shared secret. They’re in love, entirely and helplessly, in a way Dani never thought possible. They’ve built their own kind of sanctuary, a place where Dani doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to hide, doesn’t have to pray for the version of herself she can’t force into existence. A place that’s home.

Her father is still blissfully ignorant. Somehow, he hasn’t pieced it together, hasn’t realized that the “Beau and Dani” façade is a flimsy excuse for Dani to avoid questions she can’t answer. All that matters is her dad hasn’t found out about Paige, and as long as Dani can keep it that way, she can hold onto this little slice of happiness a bit longer.

Her camera is still her refuge, the one place she can express everything she’s too scared to say. She photographs everything these days: the crackling electricity of Paige on the court, Thaliah and Jalen during their group hangouts, the fleeting, golden light of early spring as it kisses the Minnesota snow. Photography gives her purpose, and in a way, it’s her excuse to be near Paige without raising suspicion. At almost every game, Dani can be found on the sidelines, her lens trained on the girl she loves. Sometimes she’s there for the yearbook, sometimes just as a spectator, but she never misses an opportunity to catch Paige mid-layup, her form perfect, her expression fierce. Those photos always end up in a folder on Dani’s laptop, separate from the yearbook shots, and Dani finds herself scrolling through them late at night, smiling at the way Paige lights up the screen.

Dani’s friendships with Thaliah and Jalen are as strong as ever. The three of them and Paige have returned to normalcy, often found loitering at diners, driving aimlessly through town, or sprawled out in Thaliah’s basement watching movies and laughing about nothing. They’re her grounding force, her reminder that she’s not alone in navigating the chaos of being seventeen and confused about almost everything. Paige fits into their dynamic seamlessly, too, and on the rare occasion they’re all together, Dani feels like the world might actually be okay.

College acceptance letters have been rolling in, and Dani’s future is starting to take shape—though not without its complications. She’s been accepted into every school she applied to, but it’s her UConn acceptance that sends her heart racing. It’s not just the great program or the nearly full-ride scholarship they’ve offered her—it’s the fact that Paige will be there. That, for once, Dani might have a future that feels like hers, not one dictated by her father or her faith or the crushing weight of expectation. But she hasn’t told her dad yet. She can’t. He knows Paige is going to UConn, knows about her basketball career and the national attention it’s garnered, and Dani knows he’d connect the dots too easily. So she keeps it to herself, tucking the letter into the back of her desk drawer and avoiding the subject whenever college comes up at home.

Currently, Dani sits among Paige’s family, her camera resting untouched in her lap. It’s the state championship, and Hopkins is favored to take the title the second year in a row. The student section is a riot of blue, loud and chaotic, but Dani has chosen the quieter comfort of this row, surrounded by people who feel like home. Jalen and his family are nearby, and Paige’s parents and siblings flank her on either side, a reassuring presence amid the frenzy.

On Dani’s left, Drew is practically vibrating with excitement, barely able to stay seated. Every few seconds, he glances over at her, his words tumbling out in bursts. “Did you see Paigey’s spin move?”

“I saw it,” Dani says, a small smile tugging at her lips. “She’s locked in.”

Bob, seated next to Drew, leans forward slightly, his voice carrying over the noise. “She used to practice that on me at the park. Couldn’t guard her then, can’t guard her now.”

Dani chuckles, turning to meet Bob’s grin. There’s an ease to him that she’s always appreciated—an unspoken acceptance. Bob has known about her and Paige for as long as she can remember, and though they’ve never had a direct conversation about it, the way he treats her makes it clear he’s always been on their side.

On Dani’s right, Amy is a comforting presence, quieter than Bob but just as attentive. She’d driven all the way from Montana with Ryan and Lauren to see Paige play, and Dani’s heart had softened the moment the woman exclaimed when she saw her, immediately engulfing her in a hug after over a year without seeing one another. Amy’s kindness is effortless, and Dani feels it in every question she asks—about school, about Dani’s photography, about her plans for college.

In front of Dani, Lauren, restless as ever, leans back against the Callan girl’s legs, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her Hopkins sweatshirt. She twists her head around to look at Dani, her eyes wide.

“Paige is so fast. I wanna be that fast,” she says, her voice barely cutting through the noise of the arena.

Dani stifles a laugh, glancing down at her. “Paige’ll train you if you ask her,” she tells Lauren, messing with her hair a little.

Ryan laughs at his younger sister. “You’ll never be as fast as P, Laur.” Lauren doesn’t say anything, just hits him a little on the shoulder.

And, true to their words of Paige’s quickness, the girl threads a pass through traffic to set up her teammate for an easy layup. The crowd erupts, and Dani’s heart swells with pride, even as she tries to keep her face neutral. Paige’s brilliance on the court always manages to take Dani’s breath away. It’s not just the skill—it’s the way she moves, like the game is an extension of herself, as natural as breathing.

Amy leans closer to Dani during a brief timeout, her voice soft so as not to disturb the boys’ running commentary on the game. “She loves having you here,” she says, her eyes fixed on Paige. “Plays better when you’re watching.”

Dani swallows the lump forming in her throat, her gaze fixed on Paige. “She doesn’t need me for that,” she murmurs, trying to brush it off, but Amy gives her a knowing smile.

“Maybe not. But she lights up around you, Dani. Always has.”

The words lodge themselves in Dani’s chest, warming her from the inside out. It’s moments like this—Paige’s family’s unwavering support—that make her feel like maybe, just maybe, she and Paige could have something not just real, but something lasting.

The game resumes, and Hopkins builds their lead, point by point, until victory feels inevitable. Paige is everywhere—driving to the basket, setting up her teammates, sinking jump shots with a precision that seems almost effortless. She makes it look easy, but Dani knows better. She knows the hours Paige spends on this court, the bruises and exhaustion she never complains about. And so Dani can’t help but beam every time Paige does something spectacular, her pride radiating from her in waves. Drew nudges her arm every few seconds, practically yelling over the noise.

Lauren shifts again, this time pulling on Dani’s sleeve. “Do you think Paige will win?”

“She will,” Dani answers without hesitation. “She always does.”

The final minutes tick down, and the crowd is on its feet, the noise swelling to a deafening roar. Paige drives to the basket, weaving through defenders, sinking the ball cleanly through the net. Dani can barely hear herself think over the cheers, but she doesn’t care. Her eyes are locked on Paige, her heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of the game. Victory is so close she can taste it.

And, when the final buzzer echoes through the gym, the crowd erupts in cheers, Dani screaming her throat raw, her grin so wide it aches. Hopkins wins, as everyone knew they would. On the court, the team jumps and screams, a chaotic tangle of joy, and in the middle of it all is Paige—beaming, her face radiant in the bright lights. She’s never looked more alive.

Dani can’t take her eyes off her.

Spectators flood the court, and Dani moves with Paige’s family and Jalen’s, weaving through the chaos. When Paige spots them, her gaze locks on Dani first, as if the rest of the world has faded away. Without hesitation, Paige rushes to her, weaving past her teammates and friends.

Dani doesn’t have time to react before Paige’s arms wrap tightly around her, pulling her close. Paige hunches slightly, burying her face in Dani’s neck. Her body is damp with sweat, and she smells faintly of effort and adrenaline, but Dani doesn’t care. She wraps her arms around Paige, steadying her.

“I’m so proud of you, P,” Dani says softly, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat.

Paige doesn’t pull back. Her lips brush against Dani’s hair, and she whispers so only Dani can hear, her voice a quiet tremor of affection, “Thanks, baby.”

Dani closes her eyes briefly, savoring the moment. Around them, the chaos continues—teammates screaming, parents cheering—but it feels like they’re standing in a bubble, untouched by anything outside of this.

When Paige finally pulls away, her parents are watching with fond smiles. Amy steps forward, already reaching for Dani’s camera. “You two, hold still. Let me take a picture.”

Paige grins and slings an arm around Dani’s shoulders, pulling her close. Her other hand lifts the gold medal hanging around her neck, the metal catching the light. Dani mirrors her smile, her own arm draped loosely around Paige’s waist. They don’t need to pose—the happiness radiates naturally, their closeness effortless.

Amy pulls back, glancing at the camera’s screen. “Oh, this is a good one. Come look.”

Dani leans in to see, and her breath catches. The image captures everything—the joy in their faces, the warmth in Paige’s gaze, the way their bodies lean toward each other as if they’re two halves of the same whole.

Paige and Dani meet eyes, sharing a grin.

The moment is brief but perfect before Paige turns to scoop Lauren into her arms, spinning her little sister in a circle. Drew tugs on her jersey, demanding his turn, while Ryan just hugs at Paige’s waist, proud of his older sister. Paige laughs, pulling them all into a huddle.

Dani steps back, giving them space but staying close. She does what she does best, taking her camera from Amy and getting a few candid shots—Paige holding Lauren on her hip, Ryan clapping her on the back, Drew trying on her medal for size. Joy radiates through every frame, and Dani knows these moments will stick with her for the rest of her life.

The state championship trophy gleams in the background, but to Dani, the real victory is right here.

IT’S THE NEXT night, a Saturday, and the house feels a little emptier now. Paige’s mom, Amy, had left earlier that morning to drive back to Montana with Ryan and Lauren in tow, their visit too brief but nice. Paige’s dad, Bob, had also left with Drew, heading to Paige’s grandparents’ house for a sleepover. Dani knows Paige had been invited too, but she’d turned down the invitation with a practiced excuse. “I’ve gotta lock in on my homework,” she’d said, a perfectly reasonable answer now that basketball season was over.

Dani, however, knows better. Paige had needed her house empty for a party in celebration of her state championship win. It’s not every day you lead your team to a perfect season and cap it off with a trophy. If anyone deserved to celebrate, it was Paige, and she wasn’t about to let the night pass without doing exactly that.

Now, the house is quiet but charged with anticipation. Everyone else isn’t supposed to arrive until 8:30, but Dani, Thaliah, and Jalen had shown up early, their small group finding an easy rhythm on the couch in Paige’s living room. Music hums softly in the background, a playlist already on shuffle as the three settle in, waiting for the night to kick off.

Thaliah sits in the middle, her legs crossed, the bottle of Pink Whitney balanced on her knee as she grins at the others. “Pregame!” she announces, her voice bright as she pours the syrupy pink liquid into four cups she’s pulled from her bag. She slides one toward Jalen, one toward Paige, and one toward Dani.

Dani hesitates, glancing at the cup in front of her. She knows the routine well enough—this isn’t the first time they’ve started a night like this. But tonight, the idea of drinking, of letting her guard down even a little, makes her stomach twist.

She shakes her head, gently pushing the cup back toward Thaliah. “Nah, I’m good.”

Next to her, Paige straightens, her arm slipping from Dani’s shoulders as she turns to look at her fully. “Why?” she asks, her tone light but curious, her brows pulling together in that way they do when she doesn’t understand something.

Dani doesn’t meet her gaze right away. Instead, she glances at the bottle of Whitney, at the three cups still sitting on the table, and then back to Paige. The truth hovers on the tip of her tongue, too heavy to say aloud: My dad’s next door. If he hears this party, if he figures out I’m here, it’s over for me.

She needs to be sober in case something might happen.

But she doesn’t want to ruin Paige’s night—not when Paige is practically glowing, her excitement infectious, her smile impossible to dim. So, Dani shrugs, keeping her voice casual as she says, “I’m just not really in the mood.”

Paige narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced. Dani sighs, then adds, “Besides, we both know how you’re gonna end up tonight, so someone’s gotta babysit you.”

That gets a reaction. Paige gasps, clutching at her chest like Dani’s just insulted her honor. “I don’t need babysitting. I am a perfectly responsible drunk.”

Dani doesn’t even need to respond. Thaliah and Jalen both exchange a look, their silence loud enough to say what they’re all thinking: Paige is not a responsible drunk.

“Fine,” Paige relents, leaning back into Dani’s side with a dramatic sigh. Her arm finds its way back around Dani’s shoulders, her fingers drumming lightly against Dani’s collarbone. “As long as it’s you babysitting me, then I guess I’ll survive.”

Dani hums, a quiet sound of acknowledgment, and watches as the others down their drinks in quick succession. Thaliah pours herself another almost immediately, the bottle already half-empty, while Jalen laughs at something on his phone.

Paige leans closer to Dani, her weight warm and familiar. “You sure?” she murmurs, quieter this time, like she’s still trying to figure Dani out.

“I’m sure,” Dani says, her tone firm but not unkind. She offers Paige a small smile, hoping it’s enough to keep her from asking again.

The clock ticks toward 8:30, and the energy in the room begins to shift. Thaliah’s already scrolling through her phone, checking who’s on their way, while Jalen adjusts the playlist, turning the volume up just a little. Paige doesn’t move from her spot next to Dani, her leg pressed against hers, her head tilting to rest briefly on Dani’s shoulder.

The first wave of people start filtering in just past 8:30, the quiet hum of the house replaced by the buzz of voices, the bass of the music turned up to match the growing energy.

It’s not just close friends who show up—there are teammates, classmates, random people from their grade, and even a few who Dani swears she’s never seen before. Paige doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, she thrives on it. By now, Paige is already tipsy—not slurring her words or stumbling, but the telltale signs are there. Her laugh is louder, her smile wider, and her touch more insistent.

Dani feels Paige’s hand on her arm before she even sees her. Paige leans into her, shoulder bumping hers, her other arm draped casually across Dani’s waist like it belongs there. “You good?” Paige asks, her voice warm and loose, her words just slightly stretched out by the alcohol.

Dani nods. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Paige grins, her fingers giving Dani’s side a small squeeze before she turns her attention to someone else who calls her name. Even as Paige moves to greet them, her hand doesn’t leave Dani’s waist, her thumb brushing absentmindedly against the fabric of Dani’s shirt.

It’s not unusual for Paige to be affectionate, but the alcohol has made her even clingier than usual. Dani feels the weight of her touch constantly—Paige’s hand at her back, her arm slung over Dani’s shoulders, her knee pressing against Dani’s as they sit on the couch. It’s both comforting and a little overwhelming, especially when the house starts to fill with more and more people.

Eventually, Dani manages to slip away. Paige is busy chatting with Jalen and a couple guys on his team, and Dani uses the distraction to excuse herself, heading toward the bathroom for a moment of quiet.

When she emerges, the noise hits her again—laughter and music and the occasional sound of someone yelling in victory or frustration. Dani spots Thaliah near the kitchen and makes her way over, grateful for the familiar face.

Thaliah grins when she sees her, holding up a drink. “Surviving?”

“Barely,” Dani jokes, though there’s some truth to it. She’s still nervous about her dad, what probably won’t—but could—happen, a pit in her stomach.

She and Thaliah end up standing together near the makeshift beer pong table in the dining room, watching as Paige and Jalen take on two of their classmates. Paige is a little unsteady but clearly having the time of her life, laughing and leaning against the table as she lines up her shots. She’s unsurprisingly good, sinking cup after cup while Jalen cheers her on. It’s not long before Thaliah’s getting bored of spectating, mumbling something about needing another drink and walking away.

When Paige and Jalen win, the aformentioned throws her hands up in triumph, her laugh echoing above the rest of the noise. “Let’s go!” she yells, her voice bright and slurred, and Jalen high-fives her enthusiastically.

Then Paige turns, her eyes scanning the room until they land on Dani. Her entire face lights up, and before Dani can brace herself, Paige is weaving through the crowd, heading straight for her.

“Did you see that, baby?” Paige exclaims, throwing an arm over Dani’s shoulder, her weight pressing into her side. Her lips brush against Dani’s cheek as she leans close, her breath warm against Dani’s ear. “I won!”

Dani can’t help but laugh, steadying Paige with a hand on her waist. “Yeah, you did, P. Nice job.”

Paige beams, her cheeks flushed, and leans into Dani even more, her head briefly resting against Dani’s shoulder. For a moment, they just stand there, Paige sipping from her cup while Dani tries not to think too hard about how Paige’s hand is now resting on her hip.

“Dan,” Paige says suddenly, her voice softer now, almost contemplative. “If you don’t wanna drink, that’s fine, but…” She pauses, fumbling with her pocket before pulling out a sleek vape pen. She holds it out to Dani, her grin lopsided and playful. “At least take a couple hits of this. You’re sooooo tense.”

Dani blinks, caught off guard. “I’m not tense.”

“Yes, you are,” Paige insists, nudging the pen closer to Dani. Her other arm tightens around Dani’s shoulders, as if to emphasize her point. “Come on, baby. Chill out, we’re supposed to be havin’ fun!”

Dani rolls her eyes, a small smile lifting her lips as she takes the pen from Paige’s hand. She supposes she is a little tense. “Fine,” she mutters, earning a victorious cheer from Paige.

She takes a couple hits, the smoke smooth and warm in her lungs. It’s not much, but it’s enough to take the edge off, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

When she glances at Paige, she finds her already staring, her gaze heavy and a little glazed over. Paige leans in closer, her eyes locked on Dani’s mouth as she exhales, the smoke curling between them.

“Gimme some,” Paige murmurs, her voice low and slightly rough.

Dani starts to hand her the pen, but Paige shakes her head, a drunken smirk tugging at her lips. “Uh-uh,” she says, her tone teasing as she nods toward Dani.

It takes Dani a second to understand, but when she does, her cheeks warm. Still, she doesn’t argue. She takes another hit, holding it briefly before leaning in, her lips just barely brushing Paige’s as she exhales, the smoke passing between them.

The moment stretches, charged and intimate, and then Paige closes the distance, her lips soft and insistent against Dani’s. The kiss begins softly, almost tentative despite the alcohol in Paige’s system. Her lips are warm and slightly parted, brushing against Dani’s like a question she’s waiting for Dani to answer. Dani freezes for a moment, caught off guard, but then Paige presses closer, her hand cupping Dani’s cheek, and Dani lets herself fall into it.

Paige’s lips move against hers, slow and searching at first, but as the seconds stretch, the kiss deepens. There’s a quiet desperation in the way Paige tilts her head, her fingers sliding into Dani’s hair as if anchoring herself there. Her breath is warm and faintly sweet, carrying the tang of the vodka she’s been drinking, and it mixes with the sharp taste of smoke lingering on Dani’s lips.

Dani’s hand comes up instinctively, resting on Paige’s waist to steady her as she kisses back. Paige melts into the touch, leaning her entire body weight into Dani like she’s afraid to let go. Her other hand moves to Dani’s jaw, her thumb brushing over the edge of her cheekbone in a way that sends a shiver down Dani’s spine.

It’s messy, uncoordinated in the way that drunk kisses often are, but it’s also charged with a kind of raw emotion that makes Dani’s heart ache. Paige’s movements are eager and insistent, her lips sliding against Dani’s with just enough pressure to make Dani feel like she’s on the edge of something big, something she’s not sure she’s ready for.

Paige tilts her head again, deepening the kiss further. Her teeth catch lightly on Dani’s bottom lip, and Dani feels a quiet gasp leave her mouth, barely audible above the noise of the party. Paige takes the opportunity to slip her tongue past Dani’s lips, tasting her.

Dani doesn’t mean to respond so strongly, but her fingers tighten on Paige’s waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between them. Paige responds with a soft, almost needy sound, her nails lightly grazing the nape of Dani’s neck as she presses closer still.

The world around them blurs completely—Dani is vaguely aware of the music, the distant hum of voices, but it all feels far away, like a dream she’s not ready to wake up from. All she can focus on is Paige: the warmth of her mouth, the way her breath hitches every time Dani kisses her back just a little harder, the way she clings to Dani like this kiss is the only thing keeping her grounded.

Paige pulls back just slightly, enough to breathe but not enough to break the moment. Her lips are red and slightly swollen, her breath shallow and unsteady as she whispers, “God, Dani…”

Her forehead rests against Dani’s for a beat, her eyes fluttering open to meet Dani’s as she catches her breath. But then Paige is leaning back in, capturing Dani’s lips again with a hunger that takes Dani’s breath away. The kiss is deeper now, more urgent, and Dani finds herself gripping Paige’s waist harder, her other hand sliding up to rest against Paige’s back.

Paige’s fingers thread through Dani’s hair, tugging gently as she angles her head, and Dani feels her knees wobble slightly. Paige must notice, because she shifts, pressing Dani back against the wall for support without breaking the kiss. The cool surface against Dani’s back contrasts sharply with the heat radiating from Paige, grounding her even as the kiss makes her head spin.

Paige’s lips trail down Dani’s jawline, the kisses wet and clumsy but full of a drunken intensity that leaves Dani breathless. By the time Paige reaches her neck, her lips part, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin there, her breath warm and uneven. Dani feels herself shiver despite the heat radiating between their bodies, her hands reflexively gripping Paige’s hips to steady her.

Paige hums low in her throat, the sound almost like a purr, vibrating against Dani’s skin. “Dan,” she murmurs, her voice desperate and slurred, “need you so bad.”

Dani lets out a soft laugh, unable to hide her amusement at Paige’s sheer neediness. She tilts her head slightly, giving Paige a bit of space while teasing, “Uh-uh.”

Paige immediately protests, her lips brushing against Dani’s collarbone as she pulls back just enough to grumble, “Yes, huh.” Her voice is petulant, like a kid arguing over bedtime, and it’s so quintessentially Paige that Dani can’t help but chuckle again.

“P,” Dani says, still laughing softly, “you’re so drunk.”

Paige finally pulls back, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed, and she pouts at Dani, her big blue eyes glassy with alcohol and indignation. “No, I’m not,” she insists, her tone petulant but her words slightly slurred, betraying the lie.

Dani raises a brow, smirking as she tucks a stray strand of Paige’s blonde hair behind her ear. “Yeah, babe, you are,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “And we aren’t doing anything here tonight.”

Paige groans dramatically, throwing her head back like Dani just told her Christmas was canceled. “You’re no fun,” she mumbles, before collapsing forward and leaning all of her weight into Dani.

Dani stumbles slightly, pressed fully against the wall as Paige rests her head against Dani’s shoulder, her arms wrapping loosely around Dani’s waist. Dani pats Paige on the back, still laughing at her dramatics. “You’ll survive.”

“No, I won’t,” Paige grumbles into Dani’s shoulder, her voice muffled and childlike. “You’re so mean.”

Dani shakes her head, her grin widening. “Yeah, yeah. I’m the meanest girlfriend in the world.” She shifts her weight, trying to stand upright despite Paige’s clinginess.

Paige nuzzles into Dani’s neck, her lips brushing her skin again, though it’s less intentional now and more out of sheer drunken affection. “Still love you, though,” Paige murmurs, her words slurred but earnest, and it makes Dani’s chest tighten in spite of herself.

“Love you too, P,” Dani says softly, smoothing a hand over Paige’s back. “Let’s go sit down, ‘kay?”

Paige groans again, half-protesting, but she doesn’t resist as Dani gently guides her toward the couch. She’s still clinging to Dani, her steps unsteady and her grip loose but insistent, and Dani knows it’s going to be a long night. But she doesn’t mind—not when it’s Paige. Never when it’s Paige.

Paige slumps against the couch cushions, her head lolling to one side, her legs sprawled out in a careless, almost exaggerated manspread that makes Dani roll her eyes, though she can’t suppress the small grin tugging at her lips. Paige looks completely gone—her eyelids heavy, her cheeks flushed, and her movements languid.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” Dani says, brushing her hand over Paige’s shoulder.

“Nooo,” Paige whines, her hand shooting out to grab at Dani’s wrist. It’s a clumsy effort, her fingers barely wrapping around Dani’s arm. “Don’t go.”

Dani lightly swats at Paige’s hand, shaking it off gently. “I’ll only be a second. Be patient.”

Paige groans, letting her head fall back against the couch dramatically, but her grip loosens. “Fine,” she mutters, dragging the word sulkily.

Dani steps away quickly, navigating through the still-buzzing crowd of teenagers in the house. Music thumps in the background, but it feels like white noise compared to the task at hand. She reaches the kitchen and pours a glass of water, the sound of liquid filling the cup drowned out by distant laughter and chatter. Dani moves fast, threading her way back to the couch.

When she returns, Paige is still slumped where Dani left her, looking half-asleep. Dani hands her the glass. “Here. Drink.”

Paige takes it reluctantly, holding the cup like it’s some kind of punishment, but she starts sipping. Her free hand tugs at Dani’s arm until Dani sits down beside her again, and Paige immediately leans into her, her weight warm and heavy against Dani’s side. Dani sighs, wrapping an arm loosely around Paige’s shoulders to keep her upright.

By now, it’s well past one in the morning, and the party has started to blur into a sluggish haze. Dani glances around the room, noting how many kids are still there, laughing, drinking, some making out in corners. It’s chaos, but a controlled kind—the kind Dani knows Paige thrives in, especially when she’s drunk and her walls are down.

Thaliah appears suddenly, stumbling over to them with a grin. She eyes the glass of water in Paige’s hand and giggles. “Mmm, good idea,” Thaliah slurs, nodding approvingly. “Sobering up so you can go drink more later. Maybe I’ll do that.”

Dani watches, wanting to bang her head against the wall as Paige’s eyes light up at Thaliah’s word. “That is a good idea—”

“No,” Dani cuts in sharply, shooting Thaliah—and then Paige—a pointed look. “No more drinking.”

Paige whines, turning her face toward Dani. “Why not?”

“Because you’re already—” Dani starts, but she doesn’t get to finish.

A shadow falls over them, and Dani’s heart drops. She looks up, and there he is. Bob Bueckers, standing in front of the couch, his face a mix of fury and disgust as he takes in the scene before him: his house packed with drunk teenagers, music blaring, solo cups that are undoubtedly filled with alcohol littering every surface. Clearly, he decided not to spend the night at his parent’s house with Drew.

Thaliah freezes, her eyes wide as she immediately begins tiptoeing away from the couch, leaving Dani and Paige to fend for themselves. Paige, still leaning heavily against Dani, looks up blearily, her expression slow to register what’s happening. When she finally recognizes her father, her reaction is painfully on-brand.

“Uh-oh,” she mumbles, blinking up at him with an almost childlike innocence.

Dani closes her eyes briefly, resisting the urge to facepalm. Paige’s drunken state is painfully obvious, and Dani already knows this is going to be a disaster.

“Uh-oh?” Bob repeats, his voice low and dangerous. Then, louder: “Uh-oh?”

Paige straightens slightly, though her movements are still slow and uncoordinated. She raises her hands in a sloppy gesture of surrender, smiling hazily. “It’s… it’s a party! We’re… ce-celebrating.”

Bob stares at her, his jaw tightening as his face flushes with barely contained anger. “A party?” he repeats, his voice sharp. “What the hell, Paige?”

Paige just shrugs, looking far too pleased with herself for someone caught red-handed. Dani feels like she might melt into the couch from secondhand embarrassment.

Bob doesn’t wait for an answer. He looks around the room, his voice booming as he yells, “The party’s over! Everyone out, right now! If you’re not gone in two minutes, I’m calling the cops!”

The reaction is immediate. Teenagers start scrambling for the exits, grabbing their coats, phones, and friends as they rush to leave. Dani watches the chaos unfold, spotting Thaliah and Jalen slipping out the front door together. She sighs, about to stand and leave too, assuming that Bob will want her out of the house as well.

But before she can move, Paige’s arms tighten around her waist.

“No!” Paige protests, pulling Dani back onto the couch with surprising strength for someone so drunk. Dani sighs again, her back stiff as Paige clings to her like a lifeline.

“Paige, let go,” Dani whispers, glancing nervously at Bob.

“No,” Paige mumbles, burying her face in Dani’s shoulder.

Bob, meanwhile, is still ushering the last of the partygoers out the door, his voice firm and unyielding. Once the house is empty, the silence feels deafening. It’s just the three of them now—Bob, Dani, and a very drunk Paige.

Dani swallows hard, her pulse thudding in her ears. She braces herself, waiting for Bob to unleash whatever wrath he’s been holding back. If she’s lucky, she’ll escape this with just a scolding. If she’s not… well, she doesn’t want to think about that. She really hopes he doesn’t end up hating her after this—he’s the closest thing she’s got when it comes to the good father figure department.

Paige, oblivious to the tension, tightens her hold on Dani and sighs happily. “Love you,” she mumbles into Dani’s shoulder, and Dani wants to disappear entirely.

Bob finally comes back over to stand before the two teenage girls on the couch, massaging his temple with the heel of his hand. Dani sits stiffly, her back ramrod straight and her knees pressed tightly together. Paige is draped against her side, unbothered by the tension crackling in the air, her head lolling lazily against Dani’s shoulder. Dani can feel the warmth of Paige’s skin through her sweatshirt, a stark contrast to the icy knot forming in her stomach.

Dani has never seen Bob angry before. He’s always been the calm dad, the fun one, the nice one. But there’s something in his posture now—the way his shoulders slump under an invisible weight—that reminds Dani of her own father. And if it’s anything like that, she’d prefer to run now.

But she doesn’t. Her legs feel glued to the couch, her posture rigid, fingers drumming anxiously in her lap. She fights the urge to bite her nails, her gaze darting nervously between Bob and the floor. The silence stretches on, unbearable, until Bob finally looks up.

His eyes flicker over Paige first, scanning her flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, before shifting to Dani. His gaze lands on her like a weight, making her squirm despite herself.

“Are you sober?” Bob asks, his voice low and steady but with an edge of exhaustion.

Dani nods quickly, her throat too dry to speak. Before she can even think of a follow-up, Paige chimes in, her words slow and slurred. “She is,” Paige announces proudly, as if Dani’s sobriety is some kind of personal achievement. “Said she wanted to be reeeesponsible.” The word stretches out into a lazy drawl, and Dani winces.

Bob’s gaze sharpens as it shifts back to Paige. His jaw tightens, and when he speaks, his voice is harder now, disappointment cutting through every syllable. “I wish that responsibility would’ve reflected onto you.”

Paige shrugs one shoulder, an exaggerated, floppy movement. “Lighten up, Dad,” she mutters, reaching for the hem of Dani’s shirt and fiddling with it absentmindedly.

Bob doesn’t lighten up. Instead, he launches into a quiet but firm tirade, scolding Paige for the party, the drinking, the sheer lack of judgment. The words spill out like a steady stream, but Dani can tell they’re bouncing off Paige, who isn’t even trying to follow along. She’s too busy twisting the fabric of Dani’s shirt around her fingers, her head tilted back against the couch cushion like this is just another ordinary night.

Dani can’t take it anymore. She clears her throat, shifting forward on the couch as she tries to catch Bob’s attention. “We’re really sorry about all of this,” she says, before flickering her gaze over to Paige who looks like she couldn’t care less. “I’m really sorry about all of this. I shouldn’t have let her drink so much. I should’ve kept everyone else more in check since I was the sober one. I’m really sorry.”

Bob rubs his temple again, his eyes closing briefly as he exhales through his nose. “I appreciate that, Dani,” he says finally, his tone softening just a fraction. “I just—look, I think you should go home, okay?”

Dani’s stomach sinks. She knows it’s the right thing to do, knows she probably shouldn’t even be here right now. But guilt claws at her, and she can’t help but offer, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help clean up? I don’t mind.”

Bob gives her a tight, strained smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He shakes his head, saying, “It’s okay. I—I gotta deal with her.” He gestures to Paige.

Dani nods again, swallowing the lump in her throat. She starts to shift away from Paige, untangling herself from her girlfriend’s grip, but Paige immediately grabs at her arm, her fingers curling tightly around Dani’s wrist.

“No,” Paige protests, her voice suddenly sharper, though still slurred. “Dad, she’s not leaving.”

Bob’s eyes narrow, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Yes, she is,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “No more arguments, Paige. I swear to God.”

The words hit Paige like a bucket of cold water. For a moment, she’s silent, blinking up at her dad with a look that’s almost confused. Dani uses the opportunity to slip out of her grasp, standing quickly and smoothing down the front of her sweatshirt.

She turns to Bob, her voice soft but earnest. “I’m sorry again for all of this, Mr. Bueckers.”

Bob’s expression softens slightly, and he gives her a small nod. “Thank you, Dani. And you know to call me Bob.”

Dani manages a faint smile, relief washing over her. At least he doesn’t hate her. She taps Paige gently on the shoulder—a silent goodbye—before turning and heading toward the door. Paige doesn’t say anything, just watches her leave with a glazed-over look in her eyes.

As Dani steps out into the night, the cool air hits her like a slap, and she pulls her jacket tighter around herself. She spares one last glance at the house before setting a quick pace to her own next door, needing to get out of the cold.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #hopkins p fic #take me to church #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wbb #uconn #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #wlw #lgbtq #wbb x reader #wcbb

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prettygirl-gabi · 1 month ago

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Prologue: A Shattered Beginning

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: watch out!!

Welcomw to the start of my New full length series called :Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

The sound of the crowd roared through Gampel Pavilion, the energy so electric it felt like the walls themselves were vibrating. I crouched at the baseline, my camera poised and ready, the lens trained on the action unfolding before me. UConn was up against their biggest rival, and the intensity on the court was palpable.

Paige Bueckers—the heart and soul of the team—was everywhere at once. Her defense was relentless, and her offense was unstoppable. She was everything my professor had talked about when he suggested I use the women’s basketball team as my muse for my final project.

“Find a subject that tells a story,” Professor Gold had said, his voice filled with the kind of passion only an artist could muster. “You’re at UConn—home to some of the best athletes in the country. Capture their grit, their triumphs, their humanity. Tell their story through your lens.”

I’d chosen the women’s basketball team reluctantly at first, unsure if sports could align with my vision. But the moment I stepped into the gym, I understood. These players weren’t just athletes; they were storytellers, their movements and emotions weaving narratives on the court. And no one told a better story than Paige Bueckers.

I focused my lens on her as she positioned herself near the key, her eyes scanning the court like a hawk. A split second later, she leapt into the air, blocking a shot with an elegance that seemed effortless. The ball flew directly toward me, too fast for me to react.

The impact was sudden and jarring. My beloved camera—the one I’d saved for years to buy—shattered in my hands, the lens cracked beyond repair.

The gasp from the crowd felt louder than the actual hit, and I froze, staring at the remnants of my favorite piece of equipment. My heart sank.

After the game, I lingered outside the locker room, debating whether I should try to talk to Paige. It wasn’t her fault, of course—it was just bad luck. Still, I couldn’t deny the pang of frustration as I thought about the cost of a replacement.

But before I could make a decision, I heard her voice during the post-game press conference.

“Paige, great game tonight. That block in the second half was incredible,” a reporter said, chuckling. “But… it seems you also managed to take out a photographer’s camera in the process. Any comments on that?”

The room erupted in laughter, and I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Paige grinned, leaning into the microphone. “Yeah, that was definitely not my best moment. I think I owe someone an apology—and probably a new camera.”

The sincerity in her voice surprised me. She didn’t brush it off as a joke; she sounded genuinely remorseful.

I didn’t see her after that, but a week later, I found myself back in the gym, this time armed with my backup camera. My professor had encouraged me to keep going, even after the incident.

“Adversity adds depth to your work,” he’d said. “And honestly, there’s no better way to connect with your subject than through a shared moment—good or bad.”

I wasn’t sure if he was right, but I couldn’t deny that something about Paige intrigued me. Maybe it was her effortless confidence or the way she seemed larger than life on the court. Or maybe it was the way she’d taken responsibility in the interview, showing a side of herself that felt real and grounded.

Whatever it was, I was determined to keep going.

And as I set up my camera that day, I had no idea that Paige Bueckers was about to step into my life in a way that would change everything.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza .... (more to be added)

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royalbasketballsschool · 29 days ago

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Transform Game Skills and Confidence with Youth Summer Basketball Programs

This summer, give your young athlete the chance to grow and shine with Royal Basketball School's youth summer basketball programs. With expert coaching and engaging activities, your child will build skills, stay active, and have fun.

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healthyboom · 1 year ago

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Plyometrics Workout: The Key to Unlocking Your Fitness Potential

Plyometrics Workouts are dynamic, high-intensity exercises that focus on explosive movements. These routines are tailored for athletes, fitness enthusiasts, and individuals seeking to enhance their strength, speed, and agility. Incorporating plyometrics into your fitness regimen can lead to improved athletic performance, increased muscle strength, and enhanced cardiovascular fitness. From basketball players to runners, plyometrics workouts cater to a variety of sports and fitness goals. Whether you're a seasoned athlete looking to boost your game or a beginner aiming to jumpstart your fitness journey, plyometrics provides a challenging and effective path to reaching your fitness aspirations. Get ready to jump, leap, and power up with plyometrics!

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bucketbueckers · 1 month ago

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I'D RATHER PRETEND

extra 1: proposal ‘a few years had gone and come around...you looked at me, got down on one knee’

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur @thelightknight21 wc: 4.7k notes: based on this request 🫡 sorry this took forever, i took a break from writing for a bit (writing 80k+ words over the course of a month alters your brain chemistry tbh). i was gonna link the proposal and the wedding together but decided to split them just so i could get something out for y'all! soooo trust that the wedding oneshot will be in the works soon and other slice of life snippets. if there's anything you wanna see, feel free to request! i'll get around to it when i have the time & my inbox is always open for yaps 🙂‍↕️as always i hope y'all enjoy!! 🫶

NOVEMBER 13, 2028

The first week of their postseason vacation couldn’t have gone any better. After a successful last year with the Sparks and the Wings respectively, Tess and Paige needed the time out of the country, away from basketball and other people. For four years, they’d spend up to six months away from each other training, playing, or travelling – it wasn’t much different from what they were used to in college, but they were nearing their five year anniversary and if Tess was being honest, she loathed only having Paige for half of the year. They planned to spend the first two full weeks of the offseason in Naples, Italy, where Tess had grown up – completely alone with plenty of time to relax after a grueling championship contending season.

So the first week was amazing. They flew in on a Monday, ordered room service and promptly fell asleep after dinner, far too jet lagged and exhausted after hours of travelling. On Tuesday, Paige treated her to breakfast in bed: delicate pastries and fruits and savory meats, then they toured an art museum – the Sansevero Chapel Museum. Tess was pretty sure Paige spent more time staring at her than the actual art they’d paid to look at, but she wasn’t going to complain. She enjoyed Paige’s attention more than she liked to admit. On Wednesday, Tess showed her around the inner workings of the city and the street she grew up on. Paige even met some of her extended family, such as her paternal grandparents and some other cousins. Tess’s family welcomed Paige in with open arms and made sure they stayed for lunch. They spent the rest of the day walking around the city hand-in-hand with Tess sharing childhood stories as Paige listened intently. On Thursday, they visited the San Carlo Theatre – coincidentally enough, they were performing an opera of Romeo and Juliet, which endlessly amused the both of them. On Friday, Paige decided she wanted to try every pizza place that Naples had to offer, and Tess didn’t really have the heart to say no to her. The weekend was spent lounging around, walking around the city some more, and visiting the beach, although they quickly gave up on that endeavor because it was entirely too cold.

Then the second week rolled around and Paige’s entire demeanor changed. When Tess woke up on Monday morning, shirt and underwear haphazardly thrown on after a long night, Paige was lying silently next to her, hands folded over her stomach. She was staring at the ceiling fan like it held the answers for whatever existential question she’d been pondering. Paige and silent were two things that never ended well when they were mixed together. The last time Paige had been eerily quiet had been after New Year’s in 2024 – that was a month of dread and panic that Tess never wanted to go back to, so she rolls onto her side, gazing at Paige.

“Do you ever think the trees are trying to communicate with us but we’re too dumb to understand them?” she asks seriously, watching five different expressions cross Paige’s face before she settles on amusement, laughing quietly.

Paige finally cranes her head over, her face softening when she locks eyes with Tess. Her hair is unruly, a mess from the night before, mascara flaking and her skin littered with marks. Tess is certain she’s never seen anyone more beautiful than Paige and she’s certain she never will. Even after almost five years together, Paige still makes her heart beat like she’s a teenager with a crush. “What happened to ‘good morning?’” she jokes.

“Not a good morning when I wake up and you’re social distancing,” Tess grumbles indignantly, pointing at the space in between them. “What happened to, I don’t know, ‘loving your girlfriend?’”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Paige croons, her tone teasing. She rolls Tess onto her other side, curling an arm around her abdomen, her fingers lacing together with Tess’s over her navel. She rests her chin just above the crown of Tess’s head, sinking into the pillow. “Better?”

Tess hums, content, her hair raising at the feel of Paige’s skin against hers. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” she asks.

Paige huffs out something akin to shocked laughter. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“Paige, we’ve been together for almost five years,” Tess states. “You think I don’t know when something’s on your mind?” She twists the ring on Paige’s thumb as the blonde falls silent, thinking. “I don’t want you to ice me out,” she admits. “We said we wouldn’t do that. If there’s something wrong –”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Paige says quickly. She squeezes Tess’s hand, craning her head to press a gentle kiss on her temple. “Nothing’s wrong. Believe me. Everything’s perfect. Just…a big moment for us right now.”

“Free agency?” Tess asks, turning around in Paige’s embrace to face her fully after adjusting her arms. Paige’s face looks torn, uncertain – free agency has to be what’s weighing on her now, right? They’ve had this conversation numerous times, especially late at night after rough games when they’re missing each other and the distance feels like a burden. They’ve done this before, which is what Tess clings onto – they’ve been hundreds of miles apart in college but it’s so different now that they’re in the league and that they know their future is with one another.

“Free agency is up there,” Paige confesses after a while, frowning. “We don’t gotta talk about it right now. This is our vacation.”

“We say that every time,” Tess says softly, trying to start a conversation, not an argument. That’s been one of the biggest points of growth with Paige over the past few years. Tess is often too quick to jump to a conclusion, to get into her head about a situation or however Paige must feel about something. They’ve had these growing pains discussions numerous times, learning to be patient and trust each other more and more. Tess searches Paige’s features. “You and I both want to play ball. You know I don’t mind competing against you, but…I don’t like the distance, either. So, what do you want from whatever team you’re interested in?”

Paige hesitates, but Tess stares at her imploringly. “A younger team,” she says. “Lots of people are retiring. Stewie, BG, Sloot, Natasha. I wanna go to a team that’s gonna be together for a while, be a championship contender. I wanna be closer to you, too.”

“Okay,” Tess says, feeling slightly relieved – she and Paige are in agreement on that much. She wants longevity, a team that’s reliable, where she can settle down. She’s been stubborn on keeping up her apartment lease in LA just because she didn’t want to purchase anything permanent that wouldn’t have both hers and Paige’s name on it. “Do you have a team in mind?”

“I’ve talked to some people, yeah,” Paige says. “Have you?”

Tess nods. Paige’s thumb finds her jaw, tracing the skin there absentmindedly. “Say it on three?”

“On three,” Paige confirms. “One.”

Tess swallows. “Two.”

Together, they both say “Three,” and then –

“Valkyries,” they say at the exact same time.

The tension melts from Paige’s shoulders immediately as Tess breaks into peals of laughter. Paige shakes her head fondly, tucking her chin into the crook of Tess’s neck to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Okay. So we’ll sign with the Valkyries if they reach out to us during free agency.”

“Don’t think there’s gonna be an ‘if,’” Paige says quietly. “I talked to Azzi and she said Natalie was very interested in us. They recently got some crazy salary cap increase so I think their plan was to splurge on us, make it hard to say no. Pretty sure they also got Kiki and Ayoka to resign, so me, you, Azzi, Kiki, and Ayoka? Playoffs, easily.”

“Oh, so you think we’re starters?” Tess asks teasingly.

“You think they’re gonna drop a couple million on bench players?”

Tess shakes her head fondly, but presses her lips to Paige’s hairline, unable to keep the smile off her face. “I can’t believe we’ll be playing together next season,” she murmurs, feeling Paige tighten her arms around her waist. “After kicking your ass for nine straight years –”

“That is not what happened,” Paige interrupts, smushing her finger into Tess’s cheek. “2025? Ring a bell? UConn natty?”

“I recall a lot of things from that night but a natty was not one,” Tess states. “I remember you coming to my hotel room, and –”

Paige slides her hand across Tess’s mouth, shutting her up, but her eyes are slightly wide. “Don’t,” she says softly. The corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying to hold back laughter. Tess rolls her eyes and she pushes Paige’s hand off of her. “Does this mean we gotta start apartment hunting now?”

Tess hums. “Maybe a house?” she suggests, watching Paige’s reaction carefully. As her words sink in, a smile grows unabashed on Paige’s face.

“You wanna buy a house with me?”

“Paige,” Tess says, a little indignant. “Duh?” Paige’s expression turns unbelievably tender, her smile softening. Tess quirks a grin of her own. “I’m thinking of something permanent, you know? Settle down, finally? Stay with the Valkyries until we’re, what – 40 something, Diana Taurasi style. Retire in the Bay. We’ll have our house, maybe four bed, couple baths. Us, maybe a kid or two, guest room for our friends. We’ll probably be coaching somewhere, collecting our rings when we’re old and washed up.” Tess swallows, realizing the gravity of what she’s just said. “I mean, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“Tess.”

“Hm?”

“Shut up.”

Before she can respond, Paige’s fingers are curling around her neck, pulling her in closer until their lips meet, and kissing her with a softness and a gentleness that hasn’t disappeared after so many years together. Tess can’t help but smile, feeling the promise, the agreement, that Paige presses against her. When she draws back, Paige’s smile is wide, her teeth showing and the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I want that with you,” Paige murmurs, just so that there’s absolutely no confusion. “Lemme put a ring on it before we start talking about kids, yeah?”

Tess narrows her eyes dramatically. “You need to hurry it up, then,” she says. “I won’t wait around forever.”

Paige lifts one of her hands, kissing her knuckles with a coy smile. “Trust me. Gonna make it worth your while, baby.”

Tess honestly should have known that she had another trick up her sleeve, but she was too lost in the moment to overthink her words. So she acquiesced, giving into the deep, lingering kiss that Paige pressed into her lips, letting herself sink further into their bed and reveling in the way Paige’s lips danced across her skin.

The rest of the week passed with little interruption or further weirdness. Paige did seem a little nervous at times, though the moment never lasted too long, so Tess didn’t think much of it. She and Paige continued to make the most of their time in Italy. They had a private couple’s painting event, where Paige, for whatever reason, painted the two of them as stick figures driving around in a basketball shaped car (she’s lucky that Tess is in love because otherwise…God help her). Paige booked them in with a renowned Italian chef who taught them how to make homemade pasta and various sauces, which went as well as one could expect – that is to say Tess was just endlessly distracted by the way the veins in Paige’s hands protruded as she kneaded the dough.

Then, on Friday the 17th – Tess’s birthday – Tess woke up to Paige’s lips on her face and an assortment of brunch food. They indulged for the better part of the morning, not leaving the bed until the afternoon until their spa appointment. Paige had declared that she “deserved to be pampered” and who was Tess to argue against that? The resort masseuse and the nail techs were incredible at their jobs and Tess left the appointment feeling incredibly refreshed. Her birthday dinner was at an upscale restaurant in the heart of the city and Paige gifted her another charm for her bracelet – this time in the shape of the Italian peninsula to remind her of their time here.

Saturday the 18th was different – there was a palpable shift in the air. She woke up a little past eleven in the morning, alone, which was concerning in and of itself because Paige is rarely awake before she is. Paige is a chore to get out of bed in the mornings and always has been. She’s the CEO of “five more minutes” or “come cuddle” which, Tess will admit, has only become more endearing over the years, but right now, all it does is worry Tess after the conversation they had earlier in the week about free agency.

She hardly has the time to overthink it too much because Paige is shuffling back into their room, sporting an insane case of bedhead and a slight smudge of toothpaste lingering on her bottom lip. The blonde grins at her, easing her nerves instantly, and she presses one knee into the bed as she leans over Tess’s body, planting a kiss onto her lips. “Good morning!” she chirps, which is the next indicator that something is up.

“Good morning,” Tess says, honestly a little confused. She wipes the foam off of Paige’s lip. “What’s gotten into you?” she asks suspiciously.

“What, I can’t be happy?” Paige raises a brow, leaning in to kiss her again. Tess stops her with a hand to her chest.

“Okay, now I know you’re being weird,” Tess states. “You woke up before me. You got out of bed and attempted to make yourself…somewhat presentable, when the first thing you do in the morning is beg to be the little spoon for a little while.” As she speaks, Tess smooths out the mess on Paige’s head, frowning slightly. “You’re too happy right now. And you keep trying to distract me. So, you’re plotting something. What’s going on?”

Paige huffs dramatically, leaning away from Tess. “Nothing’s wrong, ma, swear,” she vows. Tess narrows her eyes at her, studying her features closely, but all she can make out is an anxious earnestness and unequivocal love. Paige cups her cheek as she kisses her temple gently, moving her mouth to her ear to whisper, “Everything’s perfect right now. Trust me, okay? Just wanna make you happy.”

“You do,” Tess affirms. Paige’s words soften the tension in her shoulders. Maybe she is overthinking again, which isn’t unlike her. Paige has never given her any reason to doubt her words, not in the near five years they’ve been together. She owes it to Paige to have more faith in her, in them.

A smug look crosses across Paige’s features as she pokes Tess in the cheek obnoxiously. “I know.” Tess rolls her eyes fondly as Paige leaves the bed fully. “Now get dressed. This is our last day in Italy and we got shit to do. Can you do my hair?” Tess meets her eyes through the mirror, raising a brow slightly. “Please?” Paige adds.

“I’ll house train you one day,” Tess mumbles, though she knows Paige is basically a lost cause at this point. Her girlfriend smiles at her and all of her faux annoyance washes away in an instant as Tess presses a kiss to her cheek, beginning to work on her hair. Paige gives her free reign to work and Tess elects to leave Paige’s down in natural, loose waves. Then, they get dressed – Paige dons a baggy pair of black cargos with an oversized white sweater and matching white sneakers. She doesn’t forget her chain or the various rings on her fingers, which makes Tess contemplate telling her to cancel their reservations for wherever they’re going so they can spend the day in bed (again – but that’s no one’s business but their own). Tess herself dresses in white sneakers, a pair of light-wash blue jeans, and a patterned sweater that she’d stolen directly from Paige’s luggage – the very sweater that Tess claimed made Paige look like an art teacher.

Once they’re ready to go, Paige leads her hand-in-hand down the busy streets towards a restaurant. They indulge in a late lunch, cracking jokes, sharing stories and optimism for the future – Paige wants an outdoor court built at whatever house they’re buying (possibly the least surprising thing Tess has ever heard), and Tess’s only real complaint is that she doesn’t want to live in an obnoxiously huge mansion. As long as the house has what they need and they have their family, then there’s not much else that Tess wants.

After lunch, they arrive at a private pottery making class, which takes a good few hours out of their day. Paige looked absolutely silly with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and covered in clay, and Tess is sure that the only thing that stopped them from initiating an all-out clay war was the elderly woman who was carefully instructing them. Eventually, their creations start taking shape – a vase for Tess and a lopsided mug for Paige, and while they get fired in the kiln, the instructor talks them through the history of Italian pottery and ceramics.

Tess had thought the pottery class was their last stop on the day, but Paige had something else planned. “It’s a secret,” she claimed, but she seemed a little more nervous than she was earlier that day, which did little to quell Tess’s sudden anxiety until Paige pressed her lips to her knuckles. “Trust me.”

And so she did, allowing Paige to lead her down the streets once more in the fading daylight. The sky was lined with streaks of pinks, oranges, and a dimming yellow. Tess knows she says it a lot, but in this light, Paige looks absolutely radiant – the sharp lines of her face softened by the gentleness of the sky, the blush on her cheeks heightened by the chill in the air. Her palm was warm against Tess’s, rough in some places and smooth in others, but Tess loves every inch of Paige just the same.

Finally, the two of them stop in front of an unassuming door, one that Tess had never seen growing up here. Paige’s nerves seem to return tenfold as she pauses. Tess watches her face contort as if she’s battling some internal decision. She squeezes their linked hands, feeling the relief that exudes from Paige’s body, and the blonde smiles tentatively. “You first,” she states, resting her free hand over the door knob. Tess gives a confused, yet trusting nod, as Paige opens the door and ushers her inside.

The breath is all but sucked from her lungs as soon as she’s indoors. The lighting in the room is dim, but Tess can see nearly everything. The rose petals creating a path for them, the flickering of candles strewn about, but the part that truly captures her attention are the polaroids that hang from the ceiling on thin twine strings. The one closest to the entrance are incredibly new, selfies of the two of them from the week before, a picture of Tess and Paige swept up with Tess’s extended family. There’s a solo shot of Tess grinning at the camera for Paige, dolled up in her birthday dress and holding a glass of wine.

Paige doesn’t say anything – she doesn’t have to. She rests her palms over Tess’s hips as she guides the both of them forward, allowing Tess the time to properly look at all of the pictures. As they walk through the room, which Tess figures was an art gallery given the abstract paintings on the wall, the pictures get older and older. There’s a photo of the two of them from the WNBA finals, confetti sticking to their sweat-slick bodies as they embraced in the middle of the court. There’s a photo of them at the Olympics holding up their matching gold medals. There’s countless shots of them sharing the basketball court, as rivals, and part of Tess can’t help but get choked up because they’re not going to be rivals on the court after this vacation is said and done. After nine years, she finally gets to play with Paige, as teammates, and she’s not sure if there’s anything in the world that could possibly top that feeling.

Their WNBA memories filter out, leading to their college ones. There’s one of the two of them from the national championship, displaying the two of them staring at each other – Tess on one side of an half-empty court, Paige on the other swarmed by her teammates. The pride reflected on Tess’s face is evident in the photo. There’s a bunch of other memories, their February game, holidays celebrated with each other, their summer of 2024 world tour, and photographs of them from when they were “pretending.” Tess spots herself perched on Paige’s lap during the first Thanksgiving she spent with the extended Bueckers family, arguing over Fortnite with Paige as Paige’s siblings watched on in amusement. There’s countless FaceTime screenshots, back when the two of them were truly getting to know each other, selfies from their Bose trip that changed everything, and finally, as they’re nearing the end, the photographs melt into their initial soft launch photos, that damned coffee shop and Paige’s less than subtle appearance. But the last photo isn’t like the others. The rose petal path has led them to the back end of the art gallery, still illuminated by the soft lighting. The last photo is framed. It’s of the two of them shaking hands after the first game they played against each other on February 8, 2021. That date has stuck with Tess for a while now. If you’d told her younger self in 2021 that she’d be here, now, with Paige Bueckers, she wouldn’t believe you. But now? She can’t think of anything more fitting, more obvious than her and Paige.

With tears brimming her eyes and wrought with nostalgia and gratefulness, Tess turns to meet Paige’s gaze, but she’s already looking at her. She always is. Paige looks extremely nervous, but there’s a spark of determination that Tess knows all too well.

“We met almost eight years ago,” Paige states, her voice soft as her shaky hands reach out for Tess’s. “In Gampel. We played against each other and I learned so much from you – I just didn’t have the courage to talk to you, and I regretted that for months. Then, two years after that, in May of 2023, God sent you to me again. It was awkward, and unconventional, and I thought you didn’t like me –” the two of them share a watery laugh, “–but I knew I had to make the most of it. Of us. I wasn’t gonna let you get away from me, not again. So we fake dated. I just wanted you in any way you’d have me. I was happy to just be your friend. But as time went by, I fell for you, and…” Paige smiles at her. “I was scared at first, but part of me knew it was gonna happen. You’re a competitor, you’re stubborn, and the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. You get me, always have, and me falling in love with you was real. We’re real. I’m so thankful for what we have, for you, and knowing that we’ll be playing together next season is everything I’ve wanted for nearly eight years. I can’t wait to do this with you. I can’t wait to build a life with you. On New Year’s Eve in 2023, I told you my resolution was building something permanent. I’ve kept that promise, but I’m gonna amend that to say my resolution is to build something permanent with you.”

Paige releases her hands, exhaling, and Tess almost chokes on a sob when Paige carefully drops down to one knee, her hands reaching into her pocket to produce a small ring box. Her hands shake as she opens the top, revealing the gold engagement band and a stunning, sparkling diamond, minimalist yet beautiful in the way Tess prefers her jewelry. But the ring doesn’t hold her attention for too long. She gazes down at Paige, at the tears beading at her waterline, the clear anticipation and nervousness and unfiltered love in her eyes. Tess watches a soft smile spread across Paige’s face as she finally asks the question she’s been waiting to hear for years. “Tess Kennedy, will you make me the happiest woman in the world and marry me?”

Tess doesn’t even have to think about it. She sinks down across from Paige, throwing her arms around her neck and pulling her in for a bone-crushing hug. “Oh my fucking God,” she murmurs, not even feelingly slightly ashamed as she soaks Paige’s sweater with her tears. Paige wraps her arms around her middle, pulling her close tightly as she laughs.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yes, Paige,” she stresses, barely resisting an eye roll when Paige’s face lights up, simultaneously melting with relief. “I told you I wanted to marry you almost four years ago. You really thought my answer was gonna change?”

Paige huffs, amused, as she slides the ring onto Tess’s finger. The candlelight reflects beautifully off it. The ring is gorgeous but Tess can’t keep her eyes off of Paige, whose eyes shine with tears and gratitude. “Just wanted to hear you say it.” Her tone is gentle but also a little smug. “Tess Kennedy wants to marry me,” she sing-songs.

Tess rolls her eyes fully as she and Paige stand up. “You literally got down on one knee and asked, you jerk,” she retorts, reaching up to cup Paige’s cheek and brushing away one of her tears. Her voice is soft despite her words, which makes Paige laugh as she grabs Tess by her wrist and presses a kiss to her open palm, her smile bright and fully enamored. Then, a realization dawns on Tess and she groans, pressing her forehead into Paige’s shoulder. “Oh my God. Is this what you were so nervous about last week? Not free agency?”

Paige laughs, a sound straight from the belly as she wraps her arms around Tess’s shoulders. “I didn’t lie. I was a little nervous about free agency, but I was a lot more nervous for this. Knew you’d say yes – you’re in love with me and shit –”

“And shit?” Tess asks, shaking her head.

Paige nudges her. “Just wanted to make it perfect for you,” she admits, all teasing gone from her tone. “Told you I had to make it worth your while.”

“It was perfect,” Tess says honestly. “You could have asked me anywhere, anytime, and I would say yes. I love you. But I did really like the pictures.”

Paige pulls back to grin at her. “Thought you would,” she murmurs, leaning down to kiss her gently. “I love you, too. Is it too early to call you Mrs. Bueckers?”

Tess pushes her away with a hand to her chest, affronted. “For the record, we’re hyphenating,” she declares. “Mrs. and Mrs. Bueckers-Kennedy.”

“Might not fit on the jerseys,” Paige goads.

“We’re gonna win the Valkyries a couple of championships,” Tess says. “They’re going to have so much money they’ll figure out how to get our names together on the jerseys.”

Paige smiles again. “That works for me,” she says, softer this time. She presses her lips to Tess’s again, pulling her flush against her body, enveloping her in a warmth she’s content to feel for the rest of her life. Tess grins against her, but Paige responds with a smile of her own, not minding, only holding her tighter.

She doesn’t know how to explain it – this overwhelming happiness. She’s engaged – oh my God, she’s fucking engaged; her parents are going to lose their mind – and she has everything she’s ever wanted. That much was true years ago when she had her natty wins and her girlfriend, but now? She has her fiance and the promise of a future together, on the same team, in the same house in the Bay, and all she really knows is that she can’t wait to walk down that aisle whenever the time comes.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #uconn

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earlysunshines · 11 months ago

Text

are we still friends? (can we be friends?)

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; fluff, angst

synopsis: seeing sana again during christmas causes feelings to resurface

warnings: food ; alcohol ; datzu crumbs ; cursing ; proofread halfway bc i got lazy + grammar and spelling errors probably

a/n: how to write angst?? am i cooked?? (I'm cooked) ALSO I wrote this in December so a lonnnngg time ago like when I touched the doc for the first time two days ago it said last edited 12/30/23 T-T

“y/n! come help with the decorations, it a bit tough to reach.” your mom calls out from the entrance.

pausing in your place, you turn to respond to her, “i’ll be there in a bit, let me finish mixing everything.”

“okay honey. make sure to wear a coat when you get out here, it’s chilly!” she yells back before closing the door.

a giggle leaves your lips as you continue to sift the dry ingredients, trying not to spill the flour and sugar. when you’re done with a part of your cookie process, you wash your hands and throw on your puffer jacket before heading out to help your mom.

christmas is in four days and your mom has this annual thing where she throws a big party at your place every christmas eve. she invites all her friends who are back in town—some even fly out to come to this big event—and it goes on until the concerningly late hours of the night.

your mom didn’t get to throw this big party last year because she was terribly sick, so you missed it that time, but now she’s so back.

this means you’re in charge of the baking (yet again) and also helping her out everywhere. it’s not that you don’t enjoy this, if anything you look forward to this event—just not this year, it won’t be the same as the previous christmas parties.

your mom has this friend who moved in five minutes away from your house when you were twelve, and they had a daughter your age. of course, both your mothers found a way to get you guys to meet, and eventually, you’d be spending the majority of your middle and high school years together stuck by the hip.

her name was minatozaki sana; she was the first person you had fallen in love with inside and out.

she had this type of vibrance to her that spread through her surroundings like a bullet train. if the room was dim, it’d seem like she had brought a piece of the sun inside just by being there, instantly illuminating it. it was palpable that she had her flaws, everyone did, but with the way she held herself up and gave her all, you’d see right past her imperfections and into that warm heart of hers.

sana expected nothing and appreciated everything, that’s what made her lips curl up into a contagious grin. the streaks of creased skin in the corner of her eyes as she flashed that toothy grin gave everyone the intimation that she was simply overjoyed to be able to have the ability to love and to care. she was so beautiful in the way she found adoration so enticing, and that’s why you had fallen in love with her.

your years with her passed by quickly, each year was filled with vibrant memories that led you to fall even deeper into her charm. however, you never mustered up the courage to tell her how you really felt toward her, and by the time you had gotten close to spilling out your pent up feelings; sana had found herself a little boyfriend.

chris was some guy on the basketball team—who was also a bit short and lacking skill to even make the team—he was an arrogant, pretentious, and egotistical snob who managed to win sana’s heart. how did he do this? who knows, everyone who’s interacted with him either hates his guts or is in love with his pathetic self.

he was only nice around sana, but you had seen him when he wasn’t pretending like there wasn't a stick up his ass. he was below the bare minimum and that’s how you’d describe him, he was nowhere near sana’s league. if anything, maybe you were just jealous (and that you were), but you knew what kind of person deserved sana—chris was not someone who deserved a wonderful woman like her.

that asshole managed to win sana’s heart and keep it for half of junior year and all of senior year of high school, then he managed to convince her to go to a college that was a five-hour flight away from home—and by the way, your town was a two-hour drive from a well-known, top notch university, one that you and sana agreed to go to when you were both in middle school.

there was no way you’d let sana go to that college, not when chris was the reason she was going. it was a school that wasn’t even comparable to the one not so far from home, the one that had significant alumni and programs fit for the both of you. sana could easily win a decent scholarship to the university you’ve been dreaming of going to, but she was going to let him change her mind in a matter of seconds.

there was no way you’d let that happen, so you simply walked over to her house and stormed up to her room after seeing her text regarding this whole plan, a fool’s plan.

you remember the argument that shattered your friendships in seconds, almost like it was yesterday.

“sana, you can’t just go to that school because of chris. look, i’m saying this as your friend and because i love you: he’s not all that, and the uni nearby has great health programs, they’re ten times better than the school over there and you know it.” you argue.

you’re pacing around the room that you and sana have had countless late-night conversations and sleepovers in, the place where you had done more for sana than chris did. your eyes land on the two strips of laminated paper that hold the memory of the time you two had gone to the photobooth on your sixteenth birthday, your brows crease at the sight of your cheeks squished with sana’s as the two of you posed. a heavy breath makes your lungs shrink as you exhale.

“i can’t let you do this, not for him sana.”

“but i love him so much y/n, you know this. he promised we could stay in an apartment together and that everything would be perfect, we have a whole future planned and i—”

“what about us sana?” you cut her off, voice breaking slightly. “what about our future? we promised that we’d go to that uni together, what happened to that? you’re going to throw it away for him?”

“you’re being ridiculous y/n, we were thirteen! things change and you need to grow up, look—”

“we’ve known each other since elementary school and you’re throwing away this opportunity for a guy whose grades are falling apart. not only that, he’s a fucking ass! you’ve come crying and complaining to me more times than i can count on my left hand.” you respond angrily, and much louder than you meant to.

sana looks at you in disbelief, her expression almost carrying some sort of disappointment or disgust. she scoffs and you feel your heart shatter just from hearing it, this isn’t like her at all.

“if you were so fucking annoyed by my misery then you could’ve told me,” she responds harshly, water lining her eyes.

“sana that’s not what i—"

“you’re supposed to be my best friend, always there for me and to support me. now look at you, what happened to that? can’t you be happy for me and chris? i seriously love him and all you’ve been is mopey and bitchy whenever he’s around.”

“i know more people that have treated you better than him. he’s an asshole sana, it’s clear as day and even dahyun agrees.”

her eyes meet the floor and she says in a smaller voice, “i love him y/n, and he loves me.”

not like i love you, never will he love you like that.

your features soften as you look at her. “sana you can’t—”

“get out of my room.” sana spits in a stinging tone that’s worse than a dagger to your heart. she shakes her head then turns to avoid your gaze and your heart completely shatters as you watch a tear slide down her cheek in the process. “get out of my house, i don’t want to hear it.”

“sana,” you begin, but when you hear her sniffle, you hold back everything that’s burning in your chest. your shoulders give up and sink in defeat before you croak out an “okay.”

turning around, you step out of her bedroom with a heavy heart and trembling lips. tears stream down your cheeks as you make your way out of the house where sana and you had spent countless hours together—hours that you’d never forget no matter how hard you tried.

each breath you take is visible in the cold air and snow compresses with each step you take whilst hanging up the christmas lights. your mother smiles once you pin the last string up and then you take a step back to admire the illuminating pattern of diverse hues beaming when your mom presses the “on” button.

“thank you again honey, i appreciate it.” your mom says, holding your hand and squeezing it gently.

you turn and smile at her, shaking your head before responding, “anytime mom.”

the two of you enter the house again and immediately you’re on your way back to the kitchen to finish up your famous cookies. you three different types of cookies: chocolate chip cookies (the fastest batch to be eaten), matcha cookies with white chocolate chips, and ube cookies—sana’s favorites.

“ube? what’s that?” sana says, giggling softly as you hand her a purple cookie with white chocolate chunks.

“just try it sana, you’ll love it.” you assure, urging her to try. “it’s purple too, how could you not?”

she rolls her eyes at you then picks up the sweet treat, taking a bite of the cookie. it’s crunchy on the outside and perfectly soft on the inside, making her shoulders sink down and eyes close when the new, thrilling flavor meets her tastebuds.

“so, how is it?” you ask, raising your brows. sana simply smiles and nods, shooting a dorky thumbs up before taking another bite.

“it’s wonderful, it’s like coconut and nutty and has vanilla and oh my gosh it’s so… it’s really good.” she sighs, melting as she consumes your baked good. she looks adorable.

you laugh at her response and take a bite of your own experiment, eyes widening at how good they were. sana was right, they’re wonderful.

“ah the purple cookies, those were a hit ever since you started making them.” your mom says, rubbing your back. she looks at you with some pity, knowing about your little falling out with sana.

you simply smile and nod. “i like them, i was going to save some for myself too.” you joke, easing some tension in the air.

“well, i’m going to call your dad up, go visit the kim’s later and tell them i said hi.” your mom insists, placing a twenty dollar bill on the marble counter. “heard they have a holiday latte out, you should try it. dahyun’s also been experimenting with her baking and beverages, she gets better each time i visit.”

“of course she is,” you chuckle lightheartedly, “let me just finish these last cookies and i’ll put them in the fridge for a bit. did you want anything from their place?”

“no, it’s fine. oh wait! i have a present for dahyun’s mom, can you give her this if she’s there?” she asks.

“mhm,” you hum, “just put it near my bag on the couch.”

“thanks sweetie, i’ll do that.” your mother beams, then rushes towards her room to grab whatever it was that she needed.

ring

the sound of the bell chimes throughout the café—which is not too busy other than the elderly group in the corner and a student typing away at their computer to the side. you catch sight of the familiar face, instantly grinning when you walk towards the register.

dahyun is turned away from you and cleaning the espresso machine, wiping it down and yelling a “welcome! feel free to check out the holiday pastries and beverages!” without turning towards you.

you laugh and speak up, “it’s nice to see you miss know-it-all.” and upon hearing your voice dahyun instantly turns around, beaming a bright grin and setting her rag down.

“y/n? you didn’t tell me you were in town? what the hell where were you last year?” she questions, walking out from behind the counter and then towards you to greet you with a warm hug. she smells like coffee grinds and cinnamon, you hug her back and smile.

“i was deathly sick last year, like seriously fighting for my life. i didn’t tell you?”

“no stupid, you didn’t.” she sighs, then pulls away to look at you. “i’ve only seen your instagram posts, haven’t seen you in a bit and wow… you look better than in the pictures.”

“thank you?” you giggle before she walks over to return back behind the register. “i’ve also seen your instagram… who’s that girl you’ve been posting? got a girl and didn’t fill me in with the details?” you pry, smirking cheekily.

“oh, tzu… gosh y/n we have so much to talk about, i’m glad you’re back in town.” dahyun says appreciatively, and you don’t miss the slight pink that dusts on her cheeks before she starts again, “let’s talk over some coffee. what can i get you? on the house by the way. we have like, thirty minutes before a bunch of people start piling in.”

a giggle leaves your lips again before you decide on a peppermint mocha. dahyun gets to work and weighs out the coffee grins as you situate yourself to the side, watching her work her magic.

the two of you catch up on what’s been going on with college, dahyun’s love life that you’ve missed out on, and what you’ve been up to yourself. twenty minutes pass and you’ve both ended up on some old memory that has the two of you laughing like idiots again, making both your stomachs hurt.

“so… we’ve talked about what’s been going on with me… what about you and your love life? bet you’ve met a girl too.” dahyun interrogates with a teasing tone.

“oh, well—” you begin, awkwardly staring at the cup in your hand. “i dated this girl for a while, but we ended up falling out and staying friends, nothing much… we just weren’t right for each other.”

“i see…” dahyun responds, holding herself back from bringing up the sensitive topic—or, well, person.

dahyun was aware of the falling out as well, but still stayed friends with sana. however, she was your friend before she met sana, so she had made sure if it was alright to keep contact and whatnot. of course you didn’t want your own personal problems to get in between other friendships, and you still loved sana despite everything that had happened so you gave dahyun the green light.

after running to dahyun the same night of the argument with sana, you cried for an hour or two in her room. this was the first time you turned to someone other than sana, and dahyun had been on your side of the whole situation, making it easier to comfort and reassure you. she also disliked chris, but not as much as she liked you.

she pretty much agreed with everything you had ranted about and thought it was stupid that sana would rather choose that asshole over someone like you, and later on you’d confess that you were in love with sana to dahyun. when everything had been rocky with sana, dahyun had been by your side, and you were grateful for that.

“well, maybe you’ll land yourself a kiss under the mistletoe, who knows who’ll be showing up to your christmas party.” dahyun nudges you, smiling as she hands you some peppermint chocolate bark treat. “i could always set you up~”

“it’s fine, really.” you guarantee. a smile spreads across your face and you dismiss her offer with a wave of your hand. “um, by the way… has um, has she stopped by or anything like that recently? does sana still visit—"

there’s another ring from the door opening that cuts you off, making dahyun’s attention redirect towards the customer walking in. her eyes widen and she pauses in place before smiling awkwardly, then she mumbles an uneasy “um, be back…” before walking over to the register.

you don’t think much of her weird mood shift and instead swirl around the small remainder of coffee in the latte cup.

“hi dahyun! it’s nice to see you again.” a voice beams.

you freeze in place, all of your body tensing up as soon as the familiar voice processes through your ears. it’s smooth, it’s sweet, and it has that same high-pitched ring and giggle that follows. immediately, your heartbeat spikes and you’re doing anything you can to avoid interacting or even looking in the woman’s direction.

“it’s nice to see you too sana,” dahyun greets with a bubbly tone. the name being uttered from dahyun’s mouth is enough to make your hands grip the cup in your hand a little tighter. “can i get you anything?”

“hm… i’ll have that peppermint mocha please. i’m also going to take a look around the bakery, i need to grab some treats for others. you know how it is, holidays and whatnot.” sana says in that adorable tone, it has you falling for her all over again just when you thought you’d gotten over everything that’s happened.

quickly, you finish the last sip of your coffee before setting the empty cup down abruptly. it makes a small yet noticeable sound with the glass plate it had been sitting on, making sana advert her gaze.

the small gift you had set down beside you is now placed on the glass that covers the display of christmas themed cakes. dahyun looks at you in confusion and tilts her head before you turn to smile at her, avoiding sana’s widening eyes.

“thanks for the coffee dahyun, take the present on the glass to your mom—it’s from my mom to yours.” you start, trying to keep your voice level

every ounce of restraint and discipline is fighting back the urge to simply glance at sana, who’s standing right in front of dahyun. you almost manage to avoid her, but it’s inevitable, your eyes land on your first love for the first time in almost two years.

she’s looking at you with parted lips and surprise, but she still looks as beautiful as you remember. sana looks a little more mature than when you last saw her; the curve of her jaw is sharper, lips somehow brighter and her features are more defined overall. sana is wearing a scarf that fits around her neck comfortably, a brown, fluffy sweater, and dark sweatpants with uggs to compliment the outfit. there’s simplicity in her look—she’s jaw dropping, the sight of her makes your jaw tighten and heartbeat spike.

her eyes meet yours for exactly three seconds, enough time to have every memory flowing in.

clearing your throat, you finish your farewell to dahyun with a smile, “i’ll see you around, my mom says hi to your mom, tell her i also said hi too. i’ll get going now, have a good one.”

your body doesn’t fight back the urge to glance at sana again—big mistake—before turning around and walking out the door.

sana keeps her look on you the whole time, baffled to see you here and her own heart yearns for you. she’s missed you more than you’d ever know, and more than she’d like to admit. it doesn’t help her case that you’re ten times more attractive than when she’d last seen you at graduation.

“you should talk to her.” dahyun says softly. sana keeps her eye on the door, you’re already out and probably in your car, but she keeps her eye on the door still.

“were you talking to her earlier?” sana asks, now turning to face the younger woman.

“we were catching up.” dahyun answers. the woman behind the register turns around to start making sana’s drink, unknowingly the same drink you had ordered. it all makes dahyun’s own heart sink in her chest a bit. “how long has it been since you’ve talked to her?”

“since graduation.” sana explains, looking down at the counter. “i messed up.”

dahyun turns around again to see sana, sorrow and regret etching into her features. the barista frows and reaches over to place her hand on sana’s shoulder, then rubs it gently.

“talk to her, there’s always time to fix things. especially with y/n.”

a few days past since that meeting, you’re still shaken up from it to say the least.

sana is too, but you aren’t aware of that.

to stray away from this event that is dreadfully close to leading to some form of existential crisis or spiral, you’re helping your mom out with setting up the last few decorations and tables while your cookies that you chilled a couple days ago bake.

dahyun is also coming over with her girlfriend in the evening to exchange a couple of greetings and to properly introduce her girlfriend tzuyu to you. your mother had met tzuyu before and talked highly about her, so you were excited to meet her yourself.

when the time comes, you hear a knock at the door and shoot up to answer it. you open the door and dahyun stands there with a nervous grin on her face. next to her stands tzuyu—and sana.

your eyes widen and your jaw tenses when you see her perfect face, standing next to tzuyu with this awkward smile. she’s wearing a gray pullover and black sweatpants; an orange scarf also wraps around her neck comfortably. she looks snug and cute as ever, no matter what she’s adorable in your eyes. your heart flutters and you get all nervous like a teenager again.

pushing away the edginess flowing throughout your whole being, you greet dahyun with a warm hug, then give tzuyu and friendly one as well. you’re not sure how to greet sana, being all shaken up by just her presence, so you resort to a smile and a small “hi sana,” then invite them all in.

sana walks in and her hand brushes against your arm on accident, the two of you definitely notice it—though you both decide to ignore it and the warmth in your chests.

your mom greets all the girls with a hug and the five of you sit down in your homey living room. sana sits across from you on the couch next to your mom, and you sit there avoiding eye contact as you all catch up.

an hour passes by and dahyun is over in the living room talking to your mom about what’s been going on with her parents and the bakery. in the meantime, you decide to give yourself a break from feeling all nervous just by being near sana.

standing up, you announce, “i’m going to the kitchen for a bit.” your mom simply raises her brows at your sudden departure, you’ve been silent for most of the conversation and it seems like you’re the only one affected by the tension in the room. “won’t be long.” you add, smiling weakly.

the fridge is still full of some essentials, and to the side, there’s some cold brew and your favorite coconut milk; everything you need is right where you need it. you head over to the counter and grab your favorite glass cup, heart stinging at the memory of when you had received it. it was one of the many gifts from sana.

you grab some ice and put it in the cup, then add your cold brew inside. then you grab a small cup with some honey and search for a spoon so you can mix it in with the coconut milk.

“drinking coffee at this time?” a voice says, making you freeze. you break out of your short trance and hum in response before continuing to make your drink.

“you know i can’t resist a good coffee, sana.” and the way her name slips off your tongue feels right. you haven’t said it often since the falling out and it still rolls off perfectly, it feels right coming from you. you’re hesitant to talk again, feeling her eyes drill into your back. something in your heart shifts and you manage to ask, “did you want something to drink?”

“yeah,” she answers, walking over to you and sitting at the kitchen island. “same thing you’re drinking, but sweeter.”

of course she wants it sweet, just like always.

“okay.”

your back is still turned towards sana and she watches you grab another glass. as you do so, she gets a glimpse of your own glass and smiles. “is that the cup i got you?”

still fixing up her drink, you nod and answer, “yeah. it’s my favorite.”

“a lot of your gifts are my favorites too.” she admits, her voice so soft and fragile that you’re scared the thick tension in the air might break it.

sana watches you turn around, but you still avoid her gaze. you place both cups on the surface of the kitchen island and begin to pour the coconut milk mixtures into the coffee. the liquids swirl as they combine, creating a satisfying view. sana’s quick to redirect her attention back to you, staring at your face again.

last time she had saw you at dahyun’s cafe, she only had the chance to get a simple glance at your features, not enough time to fully take in everything that’s changed about your apperance. there’s two new piercings on both ears and a new, small tattoo below your ear; the length of your hair is also noticeably longer. your lips part as you swirl both cups in your hands around, and then you take a quick glance to the side, allowing sana to admire your side profile and the unique curve of your nose and lips.

you hold the mug out for her and finally meet her eyes again. sana’s favorite thing about you were your eyes, they’re still as pretty as she remembers.

it’s some thursday night during your sophomore year of high school, you were supposed to be studying with sana for your math quiz tomorrow, but she had other ideas.

“stay still,” sana mumbles softly.

she situates you in the chair near her desk and tilts your head up with the fingers holding your chin. she’s inches away from you as she puts some sort of sponge on your face, brows creasing as she does so. your heart is racing.

after a couple of minutes, sana finishes up your makeup. she’s done some type of natural look on you, nothing too heavy or bold. you look at yourself through the mirror and take a moment to examine sana’s doings. as you do so, sana can’t keep her eyes off you.

something in her heart shifts as she admires you. her eyes land on your lips, they’re oddly alluring, and sana’s cheeks burn.

“sana you’re staring… do i look weird?”

“no,” she practically breathes out, mouth slightly agape. “you’re beautiful.” she says breathlessly, her expression turning all serious it makes you giggle awkwardly.

there have been many moments where sana has found you pretty, not just physically. your small gifts and reassurance have made her heart flutter, but she’s always figured that was just because she loved you deeply as a friend. but when you stare at her with those eyes in this moment, she’s so surprised by everything she feels. she's giddy and happy and warm inside and gosh her heart wants to jump out her chest and cling onto you. she's not opposed to the feeling; she always has this feeling aorunf you and she loves it. that's why she’s always around you in the first place.

her face burns and you’re gazing at her all confused, you look so cute.

growing nervous from how non-verbal sana has been, you try to shake her out of her trance. “hey, you’re scaring me. earth to sana? hellooooo…?”

“how are you so pretty all the time.” sana’s eyes soften and her whole body relaxes as she rests her head on her palm. “like, your face is so perfect and your eyes… god y/n, whoever gets to be with you would be so lucky, seriously. like, you’re honestly the prettiest girl in our school, how do you not have a boyfriend?”

your cheeks flush from the abrupt compliment, so you push her gently and giggle. sana giggles along with you, still star-struck. you’re both young and unknowingly in love with each other—giggles and teasing seem to be the only way to hide that.

sana has always found you attractive, after all these years she still hasn’t figured out why she made the mistake of pursuing chris instead of the person who was always there for her—and ten times prettier. you’ve always been right there, she’s a fool for looking right past you.

sana grabs the mug, still making eye contact with you and both your eyes soften at the same time.

“y/n i’m sorry.” she says immediately, “i messed up really bad and—”

“sana,” you cut her off, “just enjoy the drink.” she watches you smile at her, it’s genuine and small, still enough to calm her nerves. you grab your glass and walk towards the door to the porch, tilting your head and urging her to come follow. sana figures she could pour her heart out later, if it were on the porch it wouldn’t be the first time she’s poured out her emotions there.

the two of you find a seat across from each other, the fairy lights above create some type of ambiance to ease the tension that’s hanging in the air like an invisible cloak of some sort, suffocating the two of you with its unease.

“how have you been?” sana asks. it’s cliché, but what else was she supposed to say?

you don’t look up from the drink in your hand when you respond, “good, you?”

“likewise.” sana lies, her jaw clenching.

“you know,” you begin, and with intent, your eyes meet her face and she’s doing the same as you had been doing before; she simply sits there with the drink in her hand, looking quite on edge. “i figured if i were to see you again like this, chris would be with you.”

“we broke up three months after we moved in together.” sana says quietly, “i broke up with him.”

“sana…” you mumble quietly, surprised to say the least. “why— what?”

“i ruined everything between you and i because i was so blinded by his affection, i couldn’t stay with him anymore with guilt clawing at me.” she explains, her voice breaking slightly. “and i couldn’t bring myself to talk to you after hurting you. losing you was the biggest mistake of my life. god, it took everything in me to come back to you.”

“you never lost me sana,”

“i’m just… sorry for everything, i really am.” she says sincerely, “and i don’t think enough words could really explain how sorry i am.”

you look at her with pity, and despite her coldness towards you during the last semester of your senior year, you decide to let everything go. she’s your best friend after all, you promised yourself to be there.

“it’s okay.” you say, it’s not the truth, but it’s not a lie either. “it was my fault too for letting the distance between us get larger.”

“don’t say that, it’s not your fault.” sana sighs. she takes a sip of the coffee, it’s good, of course— everything you’ve ever made for her has been great. “i only stayed with chris because i was scared. that’s why it was so easy for me to leave everyone i loved behind, i think.”

“scared? …of what?”

she looks dead into your eyes and exhales, “i realized that, that maybe i was with chris because i was trying to push down how i felt about you.”

you tilt your head in confusion, then begin to pry, “sana what do you mean—"

“y/n, i was falling for you and it terrified me. i mean, i loved you, and honestly, i think i still do. i'm so fucking dumb, god i'm just oblivious.” sana says, then immediately, your heart rate spikes and your brows raise. she continues while fidgeting with her fingers, “i guess it’s easier to admit now because we’ve grown distant, and physically we’re distant enough. chris treated me alright and loved me, but i came crying to you all the time because he never treated me like how i wanted you to treat me, i don’t know why i did that. i don’t know why i let myself go through that when i had you. every time i’d kiss him i wished it were you, every time we did anything honestly.”

sana's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, their glossy shine failing to hide the immense emotions she was desperately trying to suppress. the weight of her confession hung in the air, causing the entire world to momentarily freeze. it felt as though time itself had paused, giving you a moment to absorb the magnitude of her words.

sana loved you, and she still does. you loved her, and you still do.

but really, you can’t. you can’t go through with this. it’s too sudden, so unorganized and uncertain.

all of this is a recipe for disaster.

the echo of her vulnerability reverberated through the atmosphere, your mind spun in a cyclone of emotions. thoughts collided and collided again like football players during some game, leaving your head in a dizzying state of confusion, the sheer intensity of it all was jarring, leaving you all disoriented. the feelings you suppressed were finding their way back out, and you found yourself teetering on the precipice of vulnerability once again, just as you did years ago.

finding out that sana loved you still gave you hope, but the revelation also made you uneasy. it had been too long without sana, and so much had happened, so there was the chance that things would be all rocky. besides, it’s just too sudden.

“i’m— sorry for dumping all of this, i just wanted to give you closure because… well, i should’ve given you it years ago.” a tear streams down her eye as she says this, and then she begins to stand. “i should leave, i’m sorry for not letting you know i was coming— god i’m so sorry.”

“sana wait—” you start, grabbing her wrist. she looks into your eyes, her’s are still glossy. you decide it’s better to let her go for now, unsure if this is the last time you’ll see her after this—hopefully not. “it’s okay, just… be careful. you know i’m always here, always sha.”

the nickname that you made up for her makes her heart crack a little, she can only smile back at you for now.

—

the conversation between dahyun, tzuyu, and your mom is interrupted when dahyun catches the sight of sana pulling her scarf off the hook and wrapping it around her neck again. she takes account of the slight flush of her nose and cheeks, as well as her water-lined eyes.

“you’re leaving?” dahyun asks, concern clear in her tone. sana simply smiles and nods, “yeah, i’ll see you at the holiday party. it was nice seeing you too miss l/n, i missed all of this.”

“you’re always welcome honey,” your mother assures, “where’s y/n?”

“out on the porch, she said she’ll be back in a bit. i’ll see you all, thank you.” sana says before departing, leaving the three women in the living room perplexed.

a few minutes later whilst the three in the living room conjure up theories of what had happened while you and sana had been gone—you appear with a blank expression. you sit down next to your mom and lean against her, not saying a word.

tzuyu (who is only briefly caught up with whatever had happened between you and sana, and she deinfitely needs a thorough presentation on your history) looks at dahyun and tilts her head, dahyun simply shakes her own head.

“sana and i talked a bit, resolved and made things clear.” you say, answering the elephant in the room. “i’m heading up, i’m getting sleepy and i want to have some energy for the party tomorrow.” you add. “it was nice getting to know you tzuyu, you’re perfect for the idiot beside you. night everyone.” chuckling quietly in between responses.

and with that you’re walking up the stairs to your room, leaving your mom, tzuyu, and dahyun perplexed yet again.

december 25th, five o’clock pm.

you're greeting guests, various familiar faces and their parents, family friends, and whoever else you mom managed to fit on the list.

the party is lively, with people scattered in the backyard and on the little porch while your dad grills his signature bbq meats. your mom laughs with her friends as she sips on her wine, moving her hands around as she talks to emphasize her little life updates.

in the basement with you are your old high school friends: momo, her cousin mina, jaehyun, mark, johnny, seulgi, sooyoung, jeongyeon, and dahyun, who’s accompanied by tzuyu. the rest of your frineds couldn’t make it, they were probably out of town. all of them sit on the floor or couch with a can of smirnoff or soda, all chatting and laughing over old memories.

you lean against jaehyun as you laugh, letting yourself hide behind his shoulder while mark ruthlessly brings up each embarrassing phase you’ve had. what a guy, a guy you’ll be figthing soon if he keeps this up.

the feeling of your phone ringing against your palm as you hold it catches your attention, directing you from the conversation at hand. the screen shows a call from “mom♡” which earns a confused look. you answer the call, cupping the phone so you can hear her better as you answer.

“hello? did you need something?”

“hey honey, would you mind coming out for a bit? someone wants to see you.”

“someone?” you ask, “one of your friends or...?”

“just come on out sweetie.” she insistts.

“okay okay, whatever you say.” you respond before ending the call and starting to get up. jaehyun looks up at you with a quirked brow as he sips on his drink. you look back and shrug, “my mom wants me to meet ‘someone,’ probably one of her friends or something. i won’t be long.” you respond to him and let the others know.

"alright, take your time," jaehyun says with a nod, setting his drink down. "hopefully, it won't be too boring," he adds with a small smirk, teasing you gently. you roll your eyes playfully in response before grabbing your jacket and heading towards the sliding door.

you were right about the guess on seeing your mom's friend, or—friends. however, the sudden chill you get when seeing the minatozaki’s on the porch makes you tense up.

they're standing there, glasses of wine in their hands as they look at you. sana's mom has a smile on her face, so does her dad. you walk up to them and try to shake off your nerves, fully hugging sana’s mom and giving sana’s dad a side hug.

“it’s been a while hasn’t it?” sana’s mom says, putting her hand on your shoulder and grinning. “it’s wonderful to see you again.”

“likewise.” you respond, melting into relaxation the more you get used to this atmosphere. “how have you all been?”

after a tense reunion with sana’s parents, they find out about your ambitions and what you’ve been up to. not much is mentioned about the falling out between you and their daughter, but the thought most definitely lingers in the cold, winter air.

sana's parents tell you about an internship she earned at a hospital her first year, saying they’re proud of her for helping others and the bonus of the nice paycheck that came with the experience. they tell you she’s found herself a guaranteed transfer to your school and that she’s excited to help even more people in the nursing program. it sounds like sana’s a great person, she’s always wanted to help others, it makes you smile and nod as her parents update you on what she’s been up to.

but there’s this feeling of uncertainty and sorrow brewing. the fact that you have to hear about sana from anyone but her breaks you a bit, knowing that the two of you wouldn’t hesitate to update each other back then. now, it seems like you’re missing a chunk of memories that you could’ve shared with sana.

“we asked her to come to the party.” mr. minatozaki says, looking at you with a sympathetic smile. “she said she’d consider it.”

“oh, i see.” you respond, nodding whilst looking at the ground.

part of you is glad that she’s not here, but who are you kidding, there would never be a time where you’d be dissapointed to catch her near you, despite the paranoia taking over.

“well, it’s nice to catch up y/n. we've missed you, it’s great to see how well you’re doing. your parents must be proud.” mr. minatozaki concludes, looking at you with admiration.

“yeah, thanks.” you say, “well, i'll leave you to talk to my parents, but i'll stop by again to talk to you two. it's really nice to catch up, i've missed you guys too, and your wonderful dinners.” you add jokingly, earning a laugh from the couple.

sana's mom kisses your temple and hugs you, then lets you walk back into the house.

it seems like this whole night has been full of surprises—scratch that, at this point, everything is a surprise ever since you've been back in town. especially now, because once you step into the kitchen, there’s a familiar woman who’s making your knees weak all over again.

“y/n, hey.” sana greets softly, smiling at you.

she's just hung up her scarf on the little hook near the fridge, the same place she’d always hang it back then. there was this unspoken rule that when sana was here, there were certain spaces that belonged to her; the hook near the fridge, the chair at the dining table closest to the living room, the right side of your bed, and the left side of the couch in the basement.

still, you’re pissed at the fact she had practically cut you off completely over a boy just to come back years later to win you back. it irritated you how easy it was for sana to convince you, but you were much angrier at the thought of her coming back to see you because her and chris didn’t work out. was she serious about the breakup? was that all it took to forget that she had caused so much mental turmoil?

despite this, her being in your house again and seeing her at this christmas party like years before; everything reminds you of the fact that sana had always lingered in your home.

“hey, didn’t think you’d make it.” you respond, watching her shrug.

“my parents said your signature cookies are here, i had to.”

can't be the only reason, you want to mumble, but your lips stay sealed.

sana speaks again, “i stole a couple, ate some earlier actually. still as great as i remembered.”

“thanks.” you mutter, walking over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “did you want to talk about something?”

“what do you mean?”

“there’s a reason you came, and i know it’s for me since you’re not in the basement with everyone else. we both know that’s the signature spot.”

sana cringes at your tone, but gives in.

“i just wanted to see you, and hopefully talk to you normally.”

it's taking everything in you to hold your ground, to protect yourself from this sudden appearance that’s making you all uneasy again. you can’t let sana screw you up again with a simple visit, you can’t.

“i know you’re sorry but sana, you treated me so terribly. do you know how much i cried? how fucking terrible i felt after losing my friend of years to chris?” you seethe, sighing. “part of me wants to start over, maybe try again—but how can i do that when there’s the chance of you throwing away everything, we rebuild over another stupid fucking guy.”

she looks at you with guilt in her eyes, her shoulders sinking and words jumbling in her throat.

“y/n, nothing—no one, despite what i've done to you, will ever make me forget how much i love you. there's always a space in my heart for you.”

you scoff, anger flowing throughout you now, then walk over to her. she stands against the frame of the entrance, you stand in front of her now, looking down slightly. sana's looking at you directly in the eye, you can see the hurt and regret in her eyes; her look brings you back to your senses.

“how do i know you’re not bluffing? sana, every ounce of me wants to redo this.” your voice cracks slightly, the hurt evident in your tone.

“you just have to trust me, i'm sorry, i'm really sorry.”

you feel like curling up into a ball and hiding, the way your chest tightens makes you want to cry a bit.

the party ends around one in the morning, considering the fact that some of the attendants are adults that don’t have the energy to party until the sunrises.

jaehyun’s just crossed the line, now slurring his words and laughing stupidly while he gets touchy with the guys, so mark ends up driving him home. johnny catches a ride with seulgi and sooyoung. with them gone, you’re in the basement with momo, mina, dahyun, and tzuyu. all five of you end the night with some recollections of memories, momo’s recent date, mina’s annoying professor, and before you know it you all are hugging goodbye.

you've already gone through three cans of the smirnoff cans, it hadn’t done much except make you a little more giggly and talkative. you were a little tipsy, that was all.

throughout the night, tzuyu and dahyun exchange glances, their eyes meeting repeatedly, dahyuns hand rubbing tzuyu’s thigh, and the little smiles they give each other. all of it doesn’t go unnoticed – at least by you – and hints at the potential for something you don’t want to think of in detail once they return home.

as you observe their subtle interactions, a pang of envy stirs within you, longing for that same allure and anticipation. amidst the swirling emotions, a sense of emptiness creeps in, amplified by the beers you’ve had. you're left to ponder on what’s making you feel hollow, still feeling bad after raising your voice at sana earlier.

you can’t feel bad, you shouldn’t. whatever you did wasn’t comparable to her practically pretending you didn’t exist for almost two years.

after rolling your eyes and saying some stupid joke to dahyun and tzuyu – the last to leave the house – you head back to the basement.

of course, sana had to be sitting on the couch, head turned towards the tv as she sipped on a beer.

“hey.” you mutter, earning her attention as she turns away from the christmas movie you paused earlier.

“hi.” sana greets.

every ounce of anger, irritation, and dread had been squeezed out your body at the sight of her. you genuinely think it’s the alcohol that’s making you rethink everything, making it hard to fight back that voice in your head that’s trying to stay reserved and petty.

sana sits there, her gaze fixed on you with intensity. her glasses are perched on her nose, a familiar sight whenever she's engrossed in watching tv or anything like that. the sight only adds to her charm, making her look even more adorable. you can't help but notice her favorite cardigan draped over her shoulders – the fluffy, white knit cardigan she adores so much –it's a cherished gift from your mother, and she's held onto it all these years. her eyes bore into yours, drilling into your skull and compelling you to plop down beside her as if nothing had ever transpired between you. you surrender, maybe it’s the late hours of the night, maybe the beer, o rmaybe just sana.

(it’s probably just sana.)

she turns back to the movie playing, some stupid romcom jaehyun had put on as background noise.

your eyes trace the curve of her nose, lingering on her lips and the impeccable contour of her jawline as she remains fixated on the tv screen. her side profile captivates you for a moment, holding you in some sort of spell until she breaks the silence with her soft voice.

“i think our parents are playing card games in the kitchen.”

“probably betting money too.”

“remember when your dad took your christmas money for their game?” sana asks, giggling at the memory. her eyes are still fixed on the screen, you decide to tune into the movie too. “didn’t he lose too?”

“yeah.” you sigh, sinking into the couch. “he paid me back double the next day though.”

“so it was worth it?”

“yeah, i think we went out to eat with that money.”

sana turns to gaze at you, her eyes tracing the soft contours of your profile in the dimly lit room. the glow from the tv accentuates her favorite features of yours, and she finds herself lost in the sight before her. for a while, she simply stares, allowing the comfortable silence to envelop the moment.

you turn to look at her now, you two just stare at each other for a while more.

“maybe we can try again.” you mumble, giving into the beauty in front of you. “every part of me is against the idea.”

“that’s understandable.” sana agrees. she sighs before adding, “you don’t have to try again.”

“i know.” you assure, “but i think we should.”

“i’m sorry.”

“i know, sana.”

as the music from the tv fills the room, silence once again settles between you and sana. you know that you can't let this opportunity slip away – it's everything you've wanted, and deep down, you realize it's everything you've needed too.

there's a mistletoe that’s hung above the two of you, it’s been there the whole time, both of you were aware of it. it dangles from the light tantalizingly, but neither of you do anything about it. neither you or sana even mention it. your mind races to the memory of dahyun and tzuyu kissing each other under it and part of you wants to kiss sana like that, but you won’t let her kiss and make up.

you reach out, your fingers gently intertwining with hers. you lift her hand to your lips, feeling the warmth of her skin against your own. softly, you press a kiss upon the back of her hand, you linger in the intimacy of the gesture.

the two of you sit there for a moment, letting the world around you two fade away.

everything about the moment renders you weak. you think to yourself that maybe, just maybe, a second chance is enough to patch things up. if it’s with sana, then maybe it’s worth it.

#sana x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #twice x reader #minatozaki sana #twice sana #minatozaki sana x reader

420 notes · View notes

gothamgf · 2 months ago

Text

bleachers — s.es + l.cy

tags sports!riize basketball!eunseok fencer!eunseok fencer!reader anton!swimmer, college au, fluff, angst, slight nsfw, hurt/comfort

wc 14k

summary when twenty-five twenty-one meets challengers.

author's note each 🤺 is a time jump!

(apple music playlist)

(spotify playlist)

You afforded the front-row.

Yet, sat right under the nose bleeds.

A coat of velvety darkness covered the Grand Palais, raising the public, and everyone involved’s pulses to its climax.

The hall tensed in its fullness, gradually silencing itself.

Each and everyone’s mouths watering for victory in the name of their country, loved ones, or themselves.

Light beams shot out of nowhere, putting on a grand show for the beginning of the awaited event.

The Men Fencing Finals at the Paris 2024 Olympics.

🤺

BEEP

13-0

Coach Lee manifested every single muscle of hers to stop herself from letting out a loud sigh of disappointment. She knew she’d let it out in a few minutes anyway. The only thing comforting her sorrow in witnessing her own student fail so miserably, was you, her little « protégée ».

It was your opponent’s fifth time of trying to quit the game ever since you’ve started playing.

It was, in consequence, one of those days where you knew the real training would only come after hours, once you would beg your coach to play a real match against you.

Only, one of you would always ask for a rematch, and a match point to determine who turned out to be the winner of whatever day it was.

So, in the meantime, you’d become the distracted teenager you rarely allowed yourself to be.

« Please coach, I’ll never be as fast as her, just let me train on the mannequin… » whined Aeri’s to the unimpressed olympian champion, fully knowing her request will be met with a stern negative response. Useless negotiations started, followed with a series of beginner-level advices. Well, not beginner-level, but certainly nothing a competitor for the national team should be listening to at the moment.

You took their bickering as an opportunity to cool off, dropping your suffocating mask on the floor. You then opened your water bottle with quick dexterity, without ever letting your sword out of your grasp. You were seen without it so rarely, word spread that you slept and showered with it. The truth wasn’t that far.

The voices of everyone in the gym were muffled as the second bell of the afternoon ringed, and chatter bloomed out of the school’s walls. Normally, you’d be on your way to close the windows, so that nothing could disturb the hours left of training. But your skin sprinkled in sweat, and the ongoing match required no real focus on either part whatsoever.

So you stayed there, and kept on drinking, sun-kissed.

When the breeze would stop blowing on your face, you’d immediately pray for more, and for 2023 to come faster. It would be your very first Asia Games, if you’d manage to qualify for it, and before that, if you’d manage to qualify for the Korean women’s fencing team.

You knew you would.

The mere thought of it made your stomach tie itself in impossibly tight knots.

In the clouds, floated the white of your suit, tattooed of your name in the colors of your country. The wind whispered chants celebrating it, as well as your scores going high, point by point, pushing you towards victory. And in the blinding reflections of the high school building’s windows, millions of medals shined. Your mind already displayed them in your room, in which you left an empty wall since you were 7.

Your bones shook with impatience. Two dozens of months, and you’d be there.

Palpable greatness.

Life have never tasted any better than on a random Thursday afternoon of a long high school day. And your heart never felt any lighter than when you were full of youth, hope, and thirsty for victory.

Arms crossed and wrapped on the windowsill, your body slouched on it, you quickly checked if the interrupting conversation was near to be over. You caught the coach fiercely teaching Aeri how to make convincing feints, as if she was teaching her a choreography. Aeri offered you a desperate smile, as you mouthed her encouraging words to lighten up her mood. She couldn’t do anything but sigh. You giggled and let your eyes wander back into the outside world. Your back straightened itself the second you saw the building you were secretly eyeing this whole time open up its doors.

The basketball building.

At this hour, they were going to run a few rounds on the track field before going back to training in their gymnasium.

It’s not that you memorized it on purpose, you just knew.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The school’s team was so prestigious some of the students already had fan clubs within the school, and in other’s as well. It mainly consisted of little stickers of their favorite member’s number on the juniors’ lockers. Or, blocking entire days before their games to craft posters, decorations, and even merchandising. They swore it was to motivate them, but the « Marry Me Sungchan » cardboards told otherwise.

You thought it was all very silly, yet quite thrilling to have some of the « Riizing Boys » in your promotion. What a lie it would be to say none of them have tickled their way into your heart, but it would also take actual torture for you to admit it in front of your teammates.

Your nose fully peeked out of the window when you watched the first tall guys step out.

And there he was, Lee Anton, with his silver jersey and long tousled hair.

Your stomach tied itself in knots again as he looked back to the team, flashing them a million dollar smile, slowly jogging towards the track field, and warming-up his twisted body. Droplets already formed on his forehead as the unforgiving sun coated the giggling players.

Their happiness affected you. And perhaps, watching hot boys made life a little more worth living, or so your 18-year-old self thought. You also thought you were looking (oogling) at the team in its entirety, when a chestnut haired boy rushed to take place next to them on the starting line, their coach closing the door after him. He just wore a white t-shirt, and was definitely unfamiliar to you.

He was new.

And new is exciting.

You kept watching him, comparing his physique with the other members, trying to figure out the sound of his voice and most importantly, what his face looked like. All of their broad backs and shoulders were turned to you, lowered to the ground, as they prepared themselves for the jog. You thought to yourself that they’d run fast enough for you to catch a glimpse of the new guy when they’d get closer to your window.

But the whistle of their coach synchronized with yours, ripping you out of your reverie.

« Come on, let’s play again. » Coach Lee calmly ordered. « And remember Aeri, her muscles. Look at the way her muscles move, and anticipate your strike alright? »

Aeri nodded unconvincingly, knowing that it will be over in a few points anyway. She put on her helmet in a swift motion, seeming slightly more boosted than minutes ago. You, on the contrary, put a little more time to get ready.

Your body might’ve been En Garde, but your mind was still on the track field, among the « Riizing Boys » and the faceless newbie.

« Prêts? » Coach Lee exclaimed, her arms open on each side of her body.

The growing sound of the basketball teams’s step tangled with the sound of your own heartbeat.

« Which club trains here? » A voice from outside the window asked.

You instinctively turned your head.

« Allez! »

The new guy was looking at you.

And you were looking at him.

BEEP

13-1

🤺

The seat to your left was empty, whereas the one to your right was occupied by a pre-teen girl wearing both France and South Korea’s colors. You figured you’d find out who her hearts belongs to once the match would begin.

« Now welcoming, France’s athlete : Yannick Borel ! » An automatic voice announced through the speakers.

The girl screamed as loudly as she possibly could.

You didn’t need to wait after all.

The fencer’s walk was determined, slow and strong. The volume of the cheers made you slightly worry about the glass ceiling. You applauded still, feeling quite sorry in advance for the next athlete, knowing he won’t get half as much cheers as his opponent.

You rapidly came to the realization that you might’ve under-estimated his popularity. The second his name was announced, you nearly jumped in surprise, hearing the girl next to you let out a inhumane screech.

A sting that could not be stopped by any means attacked your heart as his name echoed through the Palace Hall. Huge screen glowed, his face and name plastered all over them, cheered in a country at the end of the world. Envy and pride fought within your overwhelmed soul, tied to him in ways that justified your presence here, as much as it made it questionable.

« Now welcoming, South Korea’s athlete : Song Eunseok ! »

🤺

« Good session girls! » Coach Lee started cheering on to conclude the day. « Aeri, Manon and Y/N, it’s your turn to clean the room, I want to see my reflection on the floor tomorrow morning hm? Good night everyone, drink water and sleep for at the very least 9 hours, understood? »

You all agreed and greeted the coach back, as she left the gymnasium to her usual mantra. The doors were still clapping the wind when you rushed towards one of your juniors, begging her to trade your place this one time.

This one time, and last week’s time.

Promising her another autograph from Seunghan wasn’t enough, so the bid went up and your offer was now his signature on her sword. At this very moment, you finally understood what authors meant by « Her eyes glowed ». You took her struggle to say thank you as a « yes », and bowed to her appreciatively before rushing to the lockers. As you peeled your fencing suit out of your body and changed to your uniform, the note you received this morning fell on the floor.

You got it during your French lessons with Mr. Vidal, half asleep and half drooling on the back of your hand. Your table mate gently tapped on your forehead, jolting you awake. Your beauty sleep, interrupted only for you to receive a crumpled piece of notebook that has been passed around from the very back of the amphitheater, where you felt a gaze burning through your nape.

« Meet me at the bleachers.

-seok »

And there you were, walking towards the blue bleachers as the Korean sun painted them orange.

Again.

You saw his silhouette shaking two tiny strawberry yakults, the straws already planted on both of them. Your pearly eyes glowed from miles away.

Excitement from meeting up with his new friend energized him, as if the previous 8 hours of intensive training vanished right there and then.

« No fancy fencing outfit today? » He playfully asked, carefully watching you climb up the stairs, two by two.

« And hopefully you have your own jersey now? » You cheekily replied as you remember teasing him for always training in what seemed to be the same white t-shirt.

« I still can’t decide on a number… » He replied, lying through his teeth, both of you knowing the truth. He was still on a trial period.

« Well, what’s your birthday? » You plopped next to him, downing the strawberry milk as if you haven’t drank in years.

« 19 and 03 are taken… » He dramatically sighed, taking a sip out of his.

« Well… Speaking of 03… » Your interest spiking as soon as you heard Anton’s jersey number. Your back straightening itself on its own.

Eunseok contained a smile, throwing his sport bag onto his lap. You stopped breathing as soon as you took a glimpse at the silver fabric shining inside. He paused, and lifted the jersey to your face.

« AAAH! » You loudly gasped.

« SHH! » He hushed you, trying so hard not to laugh at you. « They’re still inside the gymnasium, oh my God… you’re insufferable… »

Fan-girling sounds escaped out of your bouncing body. The peak of excitement and joy plastered all over your face, as rarely as you expressed it.

The truth was that, selling your youth to your sport built walls around you, which made building meaningful, yet carefree friendships close to impossible. Your teammates seemed to be your friend group, from the outside. But the giddying, feet kicking and giggling teenager you knew you were, only ever existed within the four walls of your bedroom. You’ve journaled about how lonely it was to have no girl sitting cross-legged at the end of your bed, ranting, from sunset to sunrise.

Such is the cost of being so excellent in your discipline.

No one seeks friendship in a playground foe.

Good thing Eunseok had no wishes to challenge you. Or at least, without a sports career, or a scholarship at stake.

Turned out 18 days of makeshift apprenticeship were enough for you to build the type of connexion you’ve longed for, since forever. It broke through the walls of youthful insecurity and shyness the day he caught you cleaning up the fencing studio on your own.

You were on the third part of your sold out concert, the imaginary crowd going wild as you crossed the stage doing tricks with your broom turned microphone, turned guitar. Closed windows muffled the sound of your favorite band blasting through the stereo, as it has countless times before. There were no blinds, however, that could hide the silhouette of your body following severals choreographies for half an hour.

Especially, from the late jogger on the tracking field.

You remember feeling as if you’ve jumped to the roof when he knocked on the glass, teeth showing through his wide smile, framed by glistening cheekbones. The highest level of shame took over your whole being, immediately assuming he was about to make you the joke of his entire time here. Or worse, he would act as if you’ve never existed.

In reality, he just mouthed for you to open up. You did, reluctantly so, fully aware of how cruel boys could be.

« There’s a duo part coming after, right? » He asked, nodding his head to the rythm, waiting for the said part. He sang it, as passionately as he could, not a single note of his, on key. He tilted his head waiting for you to hop on the duet.

Not once did he offer you mockery coated side-eyes.

No. He was all friendship, dimples, and love for One Direction.

Finding comfort in each other so rapidly, bloomed doubts on what truly lied within your heart.

It was no difficult thing to admit that you have never wondered if there wasn’t a bit of attraction between the two of you. Though, the mere reminder of Lee Anton’s existence, made every single man that you have ever known disappear from the surface of Earth.

So yes, when Eunseok held his promise of getting you one of his jersey’s in exchange of clandestine fencing lessons, your heart pounded its way out of your ribs.

« Thank you, Thank you, Thank you !! » You beamed at him, diving into a hug.

« You know » He started in a slightly strained voice, his hands ghosting over your back « Don’t freak out but, » He paused. « I told him it was for you. »

The summer breeze suddenly chilled your nape, down to the bottom of your back. Waves of embarrassment as strong as this could break down cruising ships in seconds.

Your bodies automatically distanced themselves, as your expression died.

« What. » You barely muttered.

« Yeah… he’s a bit over his jerseys going to high schoolers and juniors he doesn’t know and stuff. I had to tell him but… »

You cut him right there. « You couldn’t lie? You couldn’t say it was for your little sister or like, anyone else but me? »

You stared at a piece of void in horror. It creeped. The slow realization that all of the chances, as small as they were, with your first college crush definitely turned into dust creeped on you. You were just a fan now, to him. You asked yourself why you would ever trust a man to be your wingman when you let your face rest on your palms.

Eunseok’s smirk haven’t left his face, though. « Can you let me finish? »

You didn’t respond.

He sighed at how dramatic you were acting, in his opinion. « When I told him it was for you… »

He paused. « He actually looked… quite happy about it. »

🤺

2-2

No weapons were allowed in the arena, but if anyone had a knife, they could easily cut through the tension that vibrated in the air. Waves from chatter to silence formed in between points, helping out the fencers to filter out their thoughts. Song Eunseok’s were now racing with heavy, borderline abusive motivations to create a gap of points between him and Yannick Borel.

There were few things he hated more than equalizing point with his opponent. The idea of utter loss, a silver medal, caused by a single point could make him go feral.

But now was no time to go feral.

Now was the time to place his feet apart from each other. To flex his knees, bend his sword and agitate it out of habit. To then giggle his arms, one last time, and wait for the referee’s voice to echo through his mic.

He took in a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second and felt the tingle of his opponent’s last strike on him.

The fourth right rib. He would try to hit here again. And he knew just how to keep him from doing that.

« En Garde. »

You were sitting at the edge of your seat, his hate for equal scores coming from you. You, who couldn’t help but hope for your late night lessons from 4 years ago to still be tattooed in his mind.

« Prêts ? »

All the sweat you poured until the school’s track fields’ lights went out, and your only way back home was from his passenger seat. Those trainings he paid with inviting you to his court, only so you could flirt with his curly-haired teammate.

BEEP

Your youth together.

You hoped he didn’t forget your youth together.

2-3

It was like watching the two of you dance again.

🤺

« There’s no way I can jump that high » You stated in defeat, breaking your neck from looking at the hoop.

« Are you kidding? I saw you correct the cheerleaders’ choreo the other day… »

You shushed him, partly amused and partly annoyed from shooting only three scores since you’ve started training with him. It has been 2 weeks.

Nothing was at stake there, no career, no scholarship, or not even a trophy. But the frustration of doing so many so mistakes when you were more than used to being excellent, couldn’t be helped. Especially since Eunseok has proven himself to be quite a fast learner from your not so amateur fencing sessions.

« Let’s do it together one more time, hm? » He offered, clearly sensing your growing frustration.

You nodded, eyes closed, gathering every ounce of focus that was left in your body.

Why where you there when Anton was nowhere to be seen anyway?

When you felt ready, you looked to your side, ready to mimic Eunseok’s movements as you have done countless times before.

But you’ve turned your head to nothing.

A breath ghosted over your neck.

Fingertips on your left wrist, and a palm on your hip.

« Bend your knees. » He softly spoke.

The phrase ran twice, or thrice in your head before you actually registered and executed it. Your body temperature shifted, hoping it went unnoticed. And before you could form any other thought, his whole body stretched yours out towards the hoop. You automatically jumped, but he stayed on the ground, his hands now both pushing on your under arms. He boosted your jump, practically lifting you like you weighed nothing. You nearly screamed out of fright from the sudden gain of height.

« Shoot ! » He shouted, shattering the blossoming tension.

You did, and you scored, and you laughed, and he laughed. And coming down from the height, only made your excitement and adrenaline jump through the roof. Once you calmed down to your senses, you teasingly hit him with the ball instead of celebrating.

« Amazing shot, champ, how did you that? » He sarcastically chuckled, resting his hands on his knees.

You couldn’t help but think he was probably wiping off your arm-pit sweat from his palms.

« It’s called talent. » You breathlessly replied, plopping down on the floor with your legs splayed out.

« That’s a real basketball player answer there, you might get qualified for the team before me."

« I’m no real basketball player, though. » You stated, cutting out whatever game you were both playing at. « I literally have to be your puppet to score. »

« Were you having fun? » He asked, « Being my puppet? »

« Well, even though I didn’t ask to be… » You looked up at him, the spotlights making his traits manlier than you were used to see. « Yeah. »

He collected the ball from the floor, dribbling it for a few seconds before effortlessly scoring, looking right into your eyes. « Then you’re a real basketball player. »

« So fucking cheesy… » You sighed, smiling to the ground.

Half an hour later, Eunseok was mopping the squeaky court as he waited for your « just got home » text. He would usually enjoy some music while cleaning, just like you did. But that day was for racing thoughts, and the squelch of his soapy mop on the wooden floor was just what he needed as a background sound. The way he touched you earlier haven’t quite left his mind. Before that, he had never tried to initiate anything physical with you. But you always did. Pressing on his abs and back muscles to help him have good fencer posture. Or wrapping your fingers around his to teach him how to have a solid, yet, swift hold on her backup sword. Like any good coach would.

Eunseok kept rummaging his thoughts about how he held you today, if you perhaps thought it was too much, or if you thought nothing of it. He saw the goosebumps rise from under your skin, though. And he felt it heat up.

« Someone’s in love… », Sohee said from the swinging doors.

Eunseok’s heart jolted, his body remained unmoved. He eyed his smirking teammate from the reflection on the huge window in front of him. « The hell are you even doing here? »

« Not flirting with Y/N L/N, what about you? » He sarcastically replied, crossing his arms.

Despite the slipperiness of the floor, Eunseok raced towards him, screaming incoherent things to his youngest. Their improvised game of tag, giggling from the sights of each other’s bouncing hair, made the previous teasing dust up in the records of history.

« Just admit it, you have a thing for Anton’s girl. » Sohee exclaimed with a loud smile on his freckled face.

Hearing that incorrect way of describing you made him icky, for a reason he was only admitting to himself, for now. Eunseok ran faster, shouting a childish « Hey! », Sohee finally within his reach, when his phone vibrated against his clothed thigh. He automatically stopped in his tracks, right after jumping over the benches. His friend’s eyes sparkled with thirst for drama, the sight of Eunseok’s lighted up smile ready to be spread in future gossip sessions.

But Eunseok, as blissful as he could be, kept blushing at your awaited notification.

It was followed by a messy, half asleep goodnight text. To which he replied :

⌈ Sweet dreams, Y/N. ⌋

His finger hovered over the send button. Was it Sohee’s defying look over his phone that made him send this all or nothing second text? Or was it because he came to the realization that he didn’t like the fact that « Anton’s girl » could soon be a very correct way of describing you ?

It was up to your interpretation anyway. Perhaps, it would mean nothing to you.

So he sent :

⌈ ❤️ ⌋

Like any good friend would.

🤺

It has only been 6 minutes since the match has started. Six terribly long minutes of observing your college’s best friend compete in the most important match of his life, with only yourself to debate or cheer with.

The time on your phone was rarely left unchecked, as for your watch, it would be the next second, as if time went by faster on the latter. There was a fencing olympic finale entertaining you, and a chanting crowd to follow along to. Nevertheless, pure loneliness bubbled right inside of you, perched with thousands of sports fans.

It was never lonely down there, you reminisced.

A goal in mind, a weapon in hand, and a person to dance with was all you ever needed to feel fulfilled. To feel happy.

You’d search for your partner’s sweet spot until they’d succeed to your teasing touches.

Growing tensions, magnifying attractions, and the electronic sounds of the scores accumulating turning into music. There would be a moment in which both of you would understand each other completely, the map of each your souls clearly traced in the lines of your body.

Synchronization.

Harmony.

The common folk mostly thought of fencing only as competition and infliction of pain. A deadly duel, resulting into a victor and a loser. But beneath the protective gear, and under the pulsing pearly skin of fencers, lied infinite pleasure.

For both players.

And sometimes, even for the referee.

Fencing was all about mutual connexion, understanding, and love.

And all of that came with patience, which left your body each an every minute there, sitting with a crowd that didn’t know Song Eunseok like you did.

Nor the secret stake of the match.

That’s what, partly, justified your loneliness.

You hoped he didn’t feel any of that loneliness, as well.

Because if he did, if he wasn’t having any fun, he would 100% lose.

He took off his mask, strong breathes huffing out of his chest, as he waited for the referee’s verdict. He couldn’t help but twist the sweat off his pink glossy lips, lick them and bite them.

The anticipation that grew within you, and your misplaced curiosity for his freshly licked lips, made you react a little later than you should have when you heard footsteps approaching you.

There’s a hand on the crook of your neck.

« So sorry my love, some fans wanted pictures. » Anton breathlessly whispered in your ear, before kissing it.

🤺

City lights shimmered all over the floor you slowly walked on. Your teammate’s complaints were muffled by the sound of your own troubles fogging your brain. There were no words to describe how much you loathed doing bad performances.

And your coach pretending like it wasn’t the case.

And the fact that the only thing keeping you away from being better, was your mental state.

And your mental state, being the way it was because of a guy.

Anton hadn’t talked to you today.

You wore his jersey, today.

Embarrassment grew each and every time you felt a stare a second too long on the shining letters on your back. You’ve never wanted to hide under your epidermis more than when you walked by the team’s table at lunch, and received a glance, but no smile from him.

It could have been just that, until the most irritating chuckles made their way into your ears, coming from their way.

If you could’ve died right there, it would have been a miracle.

And if your sword could actually kill, Eunseok’s head would’ve been on a spike.

Well, truth was that your mental state was that way, because of two guys.

It could also only be because of today’s treason, but it wasn’t.

Eunseok hasn’t left your mind a single day since you’ve met.

It has been three months, now.

Spring was ending, now.

Your friendship grew out of the school’s walls with goodnight texts, stretching into nightly, hours long conversations. Your thumbs would get sore from all the texting, so it shifted to calls. And video calls. During the weekends, too.

Eunseok then swore you needed to practice your shoots on your days off as well. He happened to have a park with a hoop, right at the end of the street in which he lived. So you met up there, every Saturdays, and practiced.

He’d always drive you back home if those sessions, that eventually turned in gossip sessions, lasted until nighttime.

Until one day, when his older brother went on a trip with his car.

There were no buses anymore, and your parents have had a little drink.

Moments later, you left your shoes next to his by the entrance, ate with his parents and baby brother, saw Eunseok under his dining’s room light, and brushed your teeth next to him, laughing at the huge foam around his mouth.

His mother’s smell was all over your skin and hair when you got out of the shower.

His own smell embraced you when you dived into his previous basketball team’s jersey.

And being there, all up in his brother’s sheets, with his father snoring in the other room, scared you. It scared you because you felt like you could get used to this.

Your lids grew heavier, as you silently wished to get used to it.

You opened them back up when your phone lit up by your face.

« I have popcorn. » Eunseok had texted you.

You didn’t need more to be tiptoeing to his bedroom.

« I’m out of here by 3 am, understood? » You warned him as you quietly closed the door behind you, knowing that it might cause trouble to be found here in the morning. He solemnly nodded, before breaking into a grin as he watched you get comfy by him, against his headboard.

Hours after demolishing the popcorn bag, you were still there, sharing life stories in the dark, from the funniest to the most unspeakable ones. You told him about how you puked on yourself after your first kiss, and he told you about all the nasty things he had seen in the showers of all the sports teams he had been in. He swore he hadn’t participated, but he gave away way too much details.

It was way past the bedtime both of you knew you wouldn’t respect anyway, when he decided to put on one of your favorite animated movie on his laptop. Your reciting of the lines became more and more incoherent, and he spent more and more time watching you flutter your eyelashes shut.

You fell asleep to the feeling of Eunseok’s fingers waltzing on your temple, and woke up in his brother’s bedroom.

« Do you speak French in your sleep because of fencing, or because of Ratatouille ? » He had asked you the next day, watching you wash your face through the bathroom mirror.

All of this shouldn’t have affected you the way it did, you thought.

You were just happy to get closer to your friend, you thought.

You were like brothers and sisters now, you thought.

Replaying this in your head has made you oddly silent, as you kept on walking among your teammates. You were so silent, you started to recognize the now very familiar sound of a basketball rapidly bouncing, then clashing against the metal outdoor hoop.

« Oh, Guys, I forgot something at the gym. » You lied to the group of gasping girls. « You guys can go ahead. See you tomorrow! »

You rapidly pretended to walk back, immediately missing the shelter of Aeri’s umbrella as they cheerfully waved to you. Seeing their giggling backs under the rain made you wish to make more efforts to befriend them. An inexplicable rush of nostalgia washed over you, as raindrops coated your scalp. You were in your feels. And going to investigate towards the small court wasn’t going to help anything, no matter who was dramatically shooting hoops under the rain.

It could’ve been one of the guys you were desperate to avoid tonight.

Though, you couldn’t help but hope it was one of them.

You took a turn and quietly walked towards the huge white hoodie, cutting the mystery short.

« Think you’re Troy Bolton or something? » you teasingly asked. You knew better than to be mad at him off the start, even though you truly were.

Eunseok turned around, missing the point he was about to miss anyway.

The fruit of his restless thoughts materialized before him.

If you thought you were going mad over your sleepover at his’, it was solely because you knew nothing of how much it ran him, truly crazy.

He introduced you to his parents, picked you up when you were sleeping, smelt your morning breath, and have spent, since then, hours to think about the next time he could have you that way again. Without acting like the worst, traitor, dipshit friend ever.

You were slowly tearing him into pieces, with no one but Sohee as a witness.

The abandoned ball wasn’t bouncing off the floor nearly as fast as your pounding hearts.

« If you consider yourself Gabriella, then it should be Anton’s role. » He stated, leaning down to pick it up. His tone ended up being colder than both of you expected it to be.

« I’m not really sure he’d like to be my Troy anyway… » You scoffed, crossing your bare forearms. « But you all could be a little less cruel about it. » You then spat at him, slightly ashamed.

He stopped in his motions, his back facing you. « What are you even talking about? »

You huffed a laugh, the frustration turning into a lump of sorrow in your throat. Have boys always been this oblivious to the fucked up things they do? « You know exactly what I’m talking about. »

« No, I don’t actually. I don’t know, Y/N. » He turned to face you, jaw clenched. « And you really need to stop playing around, especially now. » He bitterly added. His tone was filled with despise, as if he was grounding some naughty spoiled kid. It vexed you.

« Is it not playing around when you let me hope that he likes me ? And proceed to then laugh at me, with him, behind my back? » You shouted, taking a few steps towards him, wondering where his common sense possibly went.

You didn’t mean for your voice to crack so easily. And you were pissed at his confused, twisted eyebrows under his wet strands of hair.

« Lunch? Today? » You tried to refresh his memory.

His expression shifted. A defeated smirk threatened to mark his face, as he slowly made the wet ball bounce from one of his hands to the other.

« I can assure you, we weren’t laughing at you. » He calmly stated, now taking in your shivering form from under the flickering lamp post.

You sighed out a big chunk of air, with closed eyes and your head held up high. Was it out of relief, annoyance or, as a way to relax your severely tensed muscles? You couldn’t tell, at all.

But you knew what you felt. You felt sick of fighting the very person you’d go to when days were as shitty as today.

So you decided to trust his words, though it felt too early to fully believe in them.

« Whatever. He didn’t even talk to me today. » You muttered.

If this had happened a few weeks before, Eunseok would have confessed that the team was laughing at Anton’s reddening ears to the sight of you, proudly walking with his name on your back.

However, whatever reason that was making him pull a dry sweater from his sports bag, was making him keep it all to himself.

« You can’t afford to catch a cold, champ. » He softly spoke, as he stood up, closed the gap between you, and wrapped it around your shoulders.

« So can’t you. » You replied, looking up to his face. He covered the top of yours with the hood of his sweater, slid his hands on your shoulders, and left them there.

It wasn’t his first time taking the time to explore the map of your face. He retraced it all, meanwhile you felt like a first time explorer. The lamp-post lighting softly bounced of his high cheekbones, and made his earring shimmer. You couldn’t make up the sweat sliding down his forehead from the raindrops drenching him, in all places. From his ridiculously big eyes and lashes, to his puckered pouty lips, passing by his straight nose bridge, he was glowing.

He was beautifully glowing.

Your focus went back down his mouth. You blinked, a lot. You swore it was moving a second ago. But it wasn’t anymore.

He had just finished talking and you haven’t heard a thing.

« Sorry what did you say? » You asked, coughing your way out of awkwardness.

He swallowed down a now flustered smirk and replied in all seriousness. « Our coach. He’s involved with a bribing case. »

It took you a second too long to recover from your previous embarrassment, and register the dramatic information you have just gotten. « What? » You finally exclaimed.

« Yeah. » He looked down, your saddened expression pulling him back through the same deception he had faced earlier. «The headmasters were quick to announce that there would be no actually good replacement for the rest of the year though. Some are staying, some are switching sports, and others are switching… schools. » He sighed. He also remembered how hard he had gasped when Shohei, the one guy he was the most excited to train with, announced him that he’d fly out to Japan to have a chance at his dream basketball team.

He paused, and half heartedly chuckled, « I wasn’t even selected so my choices are… Thin. That’s why I’m here. Stress-releasing. » He freed your shoulders of his tender grasp, burying his freezing hands in his hanging jogger’s pockets.

You’ve let the rain wash over you for a moment, watching Eunseok’s gaze empty itself. You, quite selfishly, mentally placed yourself in his shoes. You knew you’d have gone bat-shit crazy if you were left with the choices of making a drastic change in your life in order to keep chasing after your dreams, or abandoning them completely. In your golden age. Just because of a man.

Your heart broke for the promising athlete before you.

It broke for your best friend.

« God… » You gasped in horror. « I can’t even… begin to imagine how hard that must be for you.»

« For all of you. » You added, Anton coming to your mind, and his, to his own demise.

He dropped his head and bitterly nodded to your statement. As you watched him stand there thoroughly defeated and fighting tears, you’ve found yourself powerless, and lacking of words strong enough to provide him any satisfying reassurance. So, you instinctively reached for his head and placed it on your shoulder, like he would do when you’d fail anything, from getting Anton’s attention, to exams.

His arms immediately wrapped around your back and waist for warmth, comfort, anything, like a man starved. He had convinced himself that you were going to turn into sand if he didn’t hold you tightly enough, hence the grip he had on you, that, despite yourself, made your face flush warm against his wet, cold body. The sound of the raindrops hitting his nape made you shiver for him. You attempted at covering it with your hand, but was rather caressing the small parcel of skin.

You weren’t deaf to the sound of his breathing losing its regularity, though.

Added up to his chest, beating against yours, his heart was helplessly finding ways of digging its way down your ribcage.

You liked the feel of it, though.

So you held him tighter, too.

« You really need to stop playing around. » He whispered, right into your ear.

« What are you talking about? » You softly spoke, right back into his ear.

He took another deep breath before his palms found their way onto your hips. He unglued your body from his, watching you look up at him with a puzzled, yet dazed look. « You think the coach’s thing is the only stressing me out? »

The world consisted only of the raindrops sliding off your huffed out bodies, and the lamp-post illuminating you. An aura surrounded the man, through your blurry, rained on gaze.

« I like you, Y/N. »

There was no time for another thought to be formed in your mind before he leaned in to kiss you.

Song Eunseok kissed you.

His lips on yours were gone as quickly as they’ve landed. Your next view were the droplets free falling from his eyelashes. Behind them, secretly lied a gaze you mentally ordered yourself to memorize forever. You weren’t sure if it was love, though. Because how could you be sure of feeling an emotion you’ve never encountered before? And where were the fireworks that the stories you’ve been fed with your entire life have promised you?

You didn’t hate it.

Whatever you felt, you wanted to feel more of it.

He watched you reach for the back of his head with one hand, and the side of his neck with the other. He watched you lift yourself on your tippy toes, and he couldn’t believe his eyes.

You planted a new kiss on his wet lips. Only, you felt like you couldn’t get enough of of it.

Eunseok swore he could taste victory better on your lips than on any of the trophies he had left a peck on. He anchored you to him when he felt your toes struggling to stand still. And he prayed, to all of the higher forces that could exist, to make the moment last as long as possible.

Not a single ounce of lust seeped through the near-divine kiss you shared, even after your tongues have exchanged many caresses of their own.

Both of you found your opponents there, kissing like you fenced, wondering if each of your physical encounters would end up feeling so familiar.

Him, strategically attacking you with an unsettling force.

You, brutally uncovering all of his weaknesses after studying his every moves.

Everything that your unsatisfied, complexed selves have been craving for, you ended up founding in the warmth of each your own dearest friend’s.

Your phone lit up once in your back pocket, but you couldn’t care less about anything else that wasn’t Eunseok eating your mouth open. His large cold hands slid their way down there, with the pretext of protecting themselves in said pockets. Your phone vibrated once again, and he felt it too.

« Duty calls? » He whispered against your lips, both of yours covered in spit and fucked out smiles.

You scoffed, punched his forearm as a punishment for his wandering hands, and dived back into the kiss you started missing the second you left it.

His stupid smile couldn’t be forced out of his lipgloss smeared lips as he lazily kept on kissing you, too.

He was on cloud nine. It was so grossly obvious. Yet, thinking about all the time he had spent fancying you, made you want to kiss him a little harder.

If it weren’t for the third, infuriating vibration against your butt-cheek, you would have been glued to his lips until sunrise.

You reached for your phone in your back pocket, while he made your head rest on his chest to shelter you. He covered your phone and the top of your head with his hand, too, as it lat up your chest. It lat up Anton’s jersey.

The mere sight of it made it harder for him to swallow remains of your saliva.

He innocently thought the notifications were just from your dad cockblocking him.

But it would be underestimating his friends’ power over you.

Plus, you were staring at your phone’s notifications center for way too long.

⌈ Lovely outfit today. ⌋

⌈ Would you wear it again Friday night? ⌋

⌈ I want to take you out, Y/N. ⌋

The inevitable smile that creeped on the lips he had just kissed, made his heart bleed to fatality.

🤺

Eunseok just lost a point.

Anton’s hand was still glued to your shoulder, even after dozens of people crossed lengths of bleachers, hopping over strangers’ knees, just to have the privilege of sharing a picture with him. You were rarely invited in them though, or acknowledged at all. Knowing your spotlight-craving nature, you were surprisingly unbothered by your partner’s new surge of fame.

In fact, it made you love him more. You once shamelessly admitted to your girl friends how one’s sportsmanship could determine your attraction, and feelings for them.

The more medals someone would win, the more points they’d win to get you.

Anton cracked the code when he first tasted your lips, right after he beat his personal record for the 200M Freestyle in the selections for the school’s swim team. You celebrated in the very same pool he had newly decided to offer his body to, arms wrapped around his soaked shoulders, sharing wet, languorous kisses and splashed giggles.

He couldn’t get enough of the way your face would lit up after each and every prizes he would bring home over the years.

So he kept swimming.

And kept winning.

Just to come back to you, forget it all and drown in your eyes again.

Your eyes happened to be just enough for him to be here, in Paris, collecting gold medals like pebbles. The last three days all ended with your most cherished trophy coming running over to you, spinning you around, feeding on the laughter and cheers he swam to win all along.

His addiction to the proud look plastered all over your face whenever you glanced at him could have got him banished from competitions.

He once pillow-talked to you about his theory of your past lives, being that he once was a greek athlete, a pioneer olympian, that only competed in worship of you. He kissed each of your knuckles afterwards, and later that day, came back with your initial added in one of the Olympic rings tattooed on his right bicep.

He sat down, finally free of his whispered meet and greet, kissed your shoulder, and turned his focus back on the match, almost forgetting the bitter taste of his presence there. He grounded himself by firmly holding your knee, as the bleachers suddenly felt too high for him.

You, however, were almost annihilated by the game, wondering just how will Eunseok get his point back. You were almost starting to get upset by it. By everything mad that has ever happened to you, too. You thought it boiled down, the resurfacing anger from the day he decided to switch schools without telling you.

Was it really resurfacing anger, though, when it has been burning your guts every single day since 2017?

Will it ever truly leave you, when the mere thought of fencing makes you feel 18 and abandoned again?

Will you ever be at peace with the man you were cheering for, next to the man you shared keys with?

🤺

You were sending undelivered texts to Eunseok with your right hand, and holding your new boyfriend’s arm with the left one.

« You should eat, it’s going cold. » Anton told you, softly shimmying your cheek out of his shoulder.

You absently nodded, not even bothering to straighten up and pretending to obey. Every single soul around the table could see your mind wandering elsewhere, but they had much more interesting topics to focus on. Like practice, competitions, and Asia Games. All of their non-athlete friends and lovers barely kept it together as they felt like their heads were going to explode from hearing too much sporty non-sense. Even though you have finally acquired your title of « Riizing Boys’ Girlfriend, » you weren’t quite included in the second bubble of conversation that formed over lunch. No, you preferred having one with the ghost of your true first kiss who has decided to vanish from the surface of earth four days ago.

Your messages delivered, though, four days sooner.

Your concern for his absence seemed to torment no one else but you. Anytime you’d ask one of his ex-teammates, their reply would leave you even more lost and confused. You have stopped interrogating the team after the third player, Wonbin, « jokingly » replied he must’ve been sick of being around you every day. But also, to not raise any suspicion on the fogged up nature of your friendship.

Anton had gained your attention once again, asking you to eat once again, but the very little appetite you had was definitely lost when you saw your text bubble switch to green, in the corner of your eye.

There was no way.

You quietly excused yourself out of the table, as discreetly as you could.

However, your discretion happened to not have gone unnoticed by Sohee, who followed your steps right after unwrapping his arm around his emo brunette girlfriend’s shoulders.

Your lonesome session of deeply inhaling the fading spring’s breeze was cut short by him walking up to you, burying the worry that crushed him in his huge jean’s pockets.

« It kills me to see you like this. » He simply stated.

You were taken aback by it, as you weren’t that close to him.

But Eunseok is, or was.

You smiled, and assured him that you were fine through your knotted throat.

« No you’re not. » He sighs, his gaze fixated on your unevenly concealed eye-bags. « Listen, I’m not supposed to tell you this but I will anyway. My girl keeps telling me how bad it is to keep that away from you, and fuck it, she’s right. »

You braced yourself, arms crossed, and nodded. « What’s up? »

« Anton doesn’t know either though… » He added, before looking around and leaning towards you.

Seconds later, you are hit with the news that scooped the ground right off your feet.

Not by surprise, because you expected it.

You saw it coming like a lunge.

And there was no way to avoid the deadly strike, and scar it left on your poor self.

Eunseok left to study in Japan.

And broke contact with you.

4 years later

March 2021

« Are you sure you’re okay? » Jimin asked, as you were losing a third point into your first practice game of the day.

You nodded, out of breath, admitting to your years-long opponent that your entire body was particularly sore today.

She snatched her mask off, revealing a smirk curving her glossy lips « Oh right, it was Anton’s birthday yesterday, I almost forgot. »

You teasingly attacked her with your sword, shushing her up from revealing a half-truth. All three of her strikes have hit marked spots from the night before, you kept having stomach butterflies-inducing flashbacks of. What has gotten into him, you wondered, reminiscing the way your hip bones knocked on the kitchen counter, bathroom sink, and shower wall, all in an impossibly short span.

The other source of your lack of focus was not so thrilling. It was quite the opposite, since it actually terrified you, since you’ve listened, in disbelief, to your college best friend’s whereabouts on the radio. Hearing about it against your will for the past couple of years have made your grieving journey harder than it should’ve been. Four years, in which you’ve entered your twenties, moved in with your college crush, integrated the National Fencing team, adopted a kitten, and buried gold fishes have passed. Four years of secretly scrolling through Japan’s national fencing team social media posts, under Anton’s spoon, lullabied by his soft snoring.

You hated yourself for it, though.

But no hate you could feel against someone could possibly surpass the one you felt for Eunseok.

Which is why you nearly crashed yourself into a tree when you heard the reason your coach was about to gather your team in the conference room.

Song Eunseok has come back home.

Neither did the radio host’s or your coach’s voice have made it real enough for you to believe it.

It wasn’t until he walked in under camera flashes that you’ve felt it.

Everything.

You felt everything come back.

The creaking sound of the bleachers under your youthful laughs. The strawberry milk flavored, moonlit practices. The soaked kiss. His brother’s sheets and his mother’s shower gel.

And the pain, the agonizing, visceral pain of everything being ripped out of your life on a random Thursday.

Once the white blocky flashing lights stopped concealing the face that was once your home, you were hit with the stupid realization that, that man was your first love.

As he blinked the lingering blindness, he looked for your face in the seated crowd.

And when he did find you, he smiled.

He smiled at you, offering you nothing but friendship and dimples.

As if it was enough.

As if stupid dimples were enough to forgive leaving you in the other side of the sea, for a stupid sport. For your stupid sport.

You couldn’t stand any of the bullshit he was standing on. You were mad, mad enough to leave the room, not as discreetly as you once did.

How dared he come back bothering the peace you have worked so hard to build, after he had so easily destroyed it? How could he smile so prettily for the cameras, knowing the one person he should be apologizing to on his knees is standing right there, apology-less? How could he not learn from his errors, and warn you this time?

The walls of what you called home more than the one you shared with your boyfriend, suffocated you for the very first time. So you left them, and drove. And you could’ve gone to the warmth of Anton’s arms, of your bed or of your bathtub.

But your mind longed for stress-relief, instead of relaxation.

Although, your tensed and sore body screamed for the latter.

« Practice starts in an hour, alright? » Sohee stated, leaning on the door’s frame, the same worried expression frowning his youthful face.

Maybe, it was your heart that made you stand in front of a hoop.

« I’ll let Anton know you’re here » he added to deaf ears before leaving you, as you already started to loudly dribble the heavy ball on the shining wooden ground of the Seoul’s Basketball Team’s practice room.

You thought you were strong enough to feed your mind with thirst for scoring points, without ever drifting to Eunseok’s lips pressed against your ear, teaching you how to win.

As you failed yet another shot, you also thought of the fact that you have never gotten close to winning against him in his discipline, when you have once shared a 9-15 points combat.

He had been lying, you were just now realizing, dribbling away your confusion, making sense of the late epiphany you were now having.

He didn’t approach you to teach him fencing.

He wasn’t a genius, nor a fast-learner as he repeated.

He already knew how to play.

There just wasn’t any male fencing team.

And he just wanted to spend time with you.

You scored.

You were his first love, too.

You picked up the ball, and scored again.

He loved you so much, he crossed the sea so he wouldn’t have to see his first love get with what he thought was yours.

You felt lighter all of the sudden. As if the soreness and bruises from last night’s have been washed down your body. You felt light enough to dunk without sitting on Eunseok’s shoulder, for once.

You truly felt like it.

So you jumped, higher than you ever have in your life, and dunked.

Adrenaline rushed in your veins in such a delightful way, that you have forgotten that as an athlete, listening to your body was the only thing that mattered. It wasn’t scores, performances, peers, sponsors, or money. It was your body. But it was too late to remember it now.

You were on the floor.

And you couldn’t believe the thud followed by a cracking sound, was the sound of your knee.

It couldn’t be.

🤺

Anton’s hand still rested right there, squeezing it every time a player scored.

Uncertainty resided within your heart in his attempt to reassure you. Each squeezes feeling like thousands of swords plunging in the wound left by your crushed lifelong dreams.

He meant well, though. He meant them like kisses.

So you covered his hand with your palm, grounding yourself too, on the touch of your partner of 7 years.

You thought you’d feel more sick than that, watching your first fencing game ever since the incident.

It was not a harmless sight, nonetheless.

You missed it all so bad, thinking of it for more than a minute would make you undeniably cry rivers, for your grief was still young and fresh. It has only been two years since the Asia games’ doors closed right in front of your hopeful soul.

Since you have been amputated of the life you have been building since you were a child.

Since you have died on a basketball court.

Your forehead sweat would never uncomfortably trickle down your collarbones under the hot white suit again.

You never got to unpack a new one again, smelling the fresh new fabric for days, until it would absorb your own salty smell.

Your sword would never accidentally hit someone on public transportation again.

And no one else would ever say that you were glued to it, whenever someone would see you eat, with it laid next to your food.

You would never train at the gym with your teammates turned friends, giggling on the stair master for minutes again.

You would never turn teammates into friends again.

You would never plug, and unplug yourself to the score counting matching again.

And you would never roar from your guts whenever you’d win again.

You would never win again.

You never played again.

🤺

From Anton’s arms, carrying you princess-style as he screamed for help, to the sun-bathed rehab center, a million things you were unable to properly recollect, have happened.

You have seen therapists that have tried to find you a new purpose in life in the span of 60 minutes weekly consultations, eaten countless of close to tasteless food, received an overwhelming amount of bouquets from all of the coaches, teammates and friends you ever had, and cried after each and every one of their visits. You have dried gallons of your parent’s, Anton’s and every of your loved one’s tears. You have also started knitting, as Sungchan’s bride-to-be have brought you a starting kit to keep up with a new distraction, other than the torturing one you had of keeping up with fencing news. Keeping up with the life you should be living. The life you spent your days and nights mourning, within the four walls of your hospital room. You have even witnessed the reformation of the « Riizing Boys » within those same walls. The six of them filled it with laughter, as they decided to come playing cards and performing karaoke to you every weekends.

All of them, except for Eunseok.

His absence haunted your convalescence. Every day for 6 weeks, you’d meet the depressing grey ceiling first, as his face would pop-up in your mind. And every night for 6 weeks, your eyelids would heavily close to the hope of him showing up, leaning against the huge doorframe one day.

You’d toss and turn in your sleep, wondering whether shame, guilt or none of the above refrained him from coming to visit you. And Anton, as sweet as he was, would only slip his hand out of yours when he’d be sure of your arrival in Morphea’s embrace. As long as you had him, you’d think it would be easier to forget Eunseok’s existence altogether. But you were only a girl who missed her college best friend, and the body she used to live for.

Complaints and whines once slipped out of your mouth in the safe company of a handful of your girl friends.

« He ain’t shit anyway », have Sohee’s high school sweetheart spat. Every one of them thoroughly nodded, agreeing to the brown-eyed woman’s truthful statement.

« If I were you, » Started Sungchan’s promised, « I’d ask for Anton to beat him up. »

You laughed, fully knowing, by looking at her piercing blue eyes, that she meant it in all seriousness. Watching all of them tear him apart with witty insults and embarrassing memories of him during your college years brought peace to your heart. You weren’t alone, grieving the Eunseok you once knew, who’d carry bandages in his cargo pants’ pockets every day, for every single one of your aches, as tiny as they could be. The girls would sneak in the dark chocolates you’d share with him, high up in the bleachers, whilst you lined your future in the early evening stars. They’d also just sit there, merging complains and praises of their respective partners, as you crocheted them tops for their up-coming events you should’ve attended alongside them.

Your bones would hurt less and less, whilst your prayers for his return would make themselves rarer and rarer. As you took your first trembling, impossibly challenging steps in the hospitals corridors, the idea that the hollow place in your heart for fencing could only be filled with love for a kid with Anton, bloomed in your head. You couldn’t imagine loving anything else.

And you were everything, but ready to love again.

Your third re-walking session of the week have just ended when the hospital’s garden have looked most promenade-worthy. Soon enough, you were half hopping, half limping with your crutches among slow troupes of retired people, and limb-less recovering adults. Despite the nice track your healing was on, you have not quite often found yourself inhaling the herbal scented air, the freshly produced oxygen out of the tall trees that traced a rounded path. Finding an empty bench was a dreadful task, since everyone seemed to have chosen to take a break at the same time as you.

You eventually found one, by a duck and koi pond. Little ducklings following around their mama suddenly made you miss Anton, when you’ve heard way too healthy steps to be from a wounded stroller, like you, right behind you. The way the rocks were smashed beneath their feet, instead of seductively dragging on the ground, immediately eliminated your boyfriend from the guessing list.

Fear and curiosity fought a tough battle within you, as you debated whether you should turn around, or limp out of here.

It could just be a nurse, you thought to yourself.

Though you were far from believing in yourself.

You didn’t even flinch, when the silhouette of a chestnut haired man quietly sat besides you.

The koi fishes kept on aimlessly turning round and round, deep in the emerald water, and the duck family jumped out of it, one by one, as if they were giving you space to talk it out.

Or find something to talk about.

Clapping leaves, summer scented crickets, random droplets and wheelchairs’ wheels rolling on the rocky path.

You were hearing everything, but an apology.

You felt like tearing up, like dying even, when he finally spoke up.

« Break up with him. » He started.

« Be my coach. » He pleated.

Clapping leaves, summer scented crickets, random droplets, wheelchairs’ wheels rolling on the rocky path…

And a slap.

« What the fuck is wrong with you? » You asked, the tingling sensation lingering on your palm.

« I’m still in love with you. » He truthfully replied, his cheek reddening.

Your ribs felt like shattering under the extreme pounding of your heart. Heat, flushed the entirety of your numbed-down, heavily medicated body. The cracking of his voice in his followings words made you realize that the only cause of your overwhelmed state was what came out of his mouth. You weren’t even looking at him, yet. And the slap seemed to already belong to history.

« I… don’t think there are enough words to express how sorry I am. I left you before I could even give us a chance. I am so fucking stupid, and so fucking sorry. And… I’ve read it, you know. The last text you ever sent me. And, I couldn’t forget our kiss, too. To this day, I still replay it, like I’m a fucking broken disc, trying to make sense of a single kiss we shared years ago… Because you haunt me. You always have. And I’m barely brave enough to face you. And you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. »

He paused.

« If I could give you my career, my knee, my entire life, I would. In a heartbeat. »

He breathed out, letting his head down, accepting the fact that you, turning to look into his eyes, was not happening, no matter how much you were fighting every single one of your muscles to not succumb.

« Fence through me, Y/N. Coach me, live everything I took from you through me. I miss you. I miss everything about you. I miss you so much that, » He practically collapses, kneeling on the humid grass before you, his nose grazing your broken bone. « I want to be anything for you, and I will do anything for you. Please. »

As if you were programmed to do so, your palm found his thick glowing hair, smoothly gliding beneath your hand. The thoughts that formed in your head made you tremble, as the truth of your following statement planted daggers through your heart and knee.

« I’m not the girl you miss anymore. »

Your eyes went from the calming auras forming at the surface of the pond, to the stillness of his figure.

« You’re not just a knee, Y/N. » He replied, looking up to you.

Was it the way the teary gaze you fell in love with dived into yours, or the fact that he was the one who just pronounced the very phrase you wished for your parents, doctors, therapists, and boyfriend to tell you, that made your entire self break into tears.

The blood that pumped through your veins, rushed with ache for the unbearable, impossible love that has just crashed onto you, your life and story.

This was it, the fireworks they talked about in novels.

And there he was sniffing on his knees, as your face melted in your soaked palms. Your imagination could have been playing you tricks, drunk on your own tears, but you swore you could hear a bunch of passing-by people gasping and congratulating your « proposal ». Eunseok took notice of your sobs growing in intensity from the irony of it all, and sat back next to you, his thigh now glued to yours. His entire body shielded you from your own violent shakes.

The shushing, and sea-like sound of the weeping willow’s leaves soothed you to sheer sadness, instead of devastation.

He protectively held you for a while.

A while long enough for his tear-stained shirt to dry, whilst your head was still laying on it.

Against the strong, trembling surface of his chest, you thought of how silly it was of you to believe that you would remain unfazed, unmoved, grossed out even, by whatever he’d have to tell you at this stage of your rehabilitation. It was way too late to apologize, and the damage was way beyond repair by now. Or so you thought, before he’d crawl out of his guilt, begging to your feet for you, and everything you selfishly wished for.

Nevertheless, your cries reflected no relief nor blissful satisfaction in being declared unconditional, almost over-the-top love to.

You cried out of grief, again.

You were now witnessing what could have been the start of the story you have silently, shamefully prayed for, and peeled out of your thoughts when you’d shampoo for a bit too long. The passionate declaration that would fast-forward to a happy, lively, and sporty marriage, that you would daydream about in every rides you’d take. The fireworks, the love that burns the blood and twists the bones, that you have looked for in every corners of the pools you’d have secret dates with your boyfriend.

You loved Anton, though.

Which is why your eyes would take days to completely dry.

Eunseok walked you back into your room, softly pushing on a wheelchair, since love has weakened you all over. He tried to break a laugh out of you with slaloms motions, or teased you by having longer than necessary conversations with whoever passed by him. You’d try to roll away to get faster to your room, but he’d grip on your chair hard enough to refrain you from it. It made you giggle. There were few things that he did that didn’t have this effect on you.

He never changed, only became a better fencer.

So, easier to love.

Thus, impossible to let go of.

And you were doomed to do it.

3 mere hours weren’t close to enough to catch up on 7 years apart, especially since it used to take you entire evenings to properly retell what happened over lunch, even though you sat at the ends of the same table.

But there was no time to tell him about your pregnancy scare, the 6 months long fight you’ve had with Anton’s coach, the day you went skydiving, or the drama that happened over that one couple in your class you used to hate on back then. Because Anton would be there in less than half an hour. And because you cared about him, there was no way you’d have Eunseok like this again.

Each and every seconds that passed before the inevitable felt all too cruel.

Here you sat, under the ugly grey light of the room. It would be the last one you’d shine in as the best friend you once were to him, and vice versa.

Even under the ugly grey light, setting eyes on him only further confirmed the truth you were terrified to spend a lifetime coping with.

It was him.

Your greatest love was him.

After all, Anton never fenced with you.

The conversation you were having on each of the boys’ career unwillingly died down now. Silence sat right between you, amplifying your fear of saying goodbye. It was palpable, the force that linked the two of you, now at breaking point.

The way your throat painfully knotted itself even made you doubt on the way you parted from fencing. Was it less, or as painful as choosing your boyfriend of seven years, the one guy you have fantasized about all your youth, over the one person who made the word « soulmate » make sense ?

Each of you exchanged sorry glances, carefully coated in humble gratefulness for the moment.

« Tell me there’s a way. » He ended up sighing, lacing his fingers together, wishing for his other hand to be yours.

You tilted your head in confusion, curiosity, and in all honesty, slight fear of what he was about to say.

« Tell me there’s a way I can be yours. »

His last desperate word lingered in the air. The air that felt harder to breathe all of the sudden.

He was right, there had to be a way.

So you searched for inspiration on his face, lightly twisted in worry. And found it, on the tiny horizontal scar right above his left eyebrow. Seeing it up-close made you 18 again, watching your sword wiggling around in his hands as he yelled out matching sound effects. The memory of a single tear of blood slowly falling along his startled face made you chuckle on your growing tears. And here stood the adult version of the boy you were, and will always be, deeply fond of.

You still couldn’t believe you were losing him.

Sport was the most beautiful thing that have ever came into your life. Your baby teeth would fall into your helmet, and grow back during the youth you sacrificed to the épée. The only thing that made your parents buy four other shelves for your trophies was setting your mind to win. Your mind never lusted over anything else than winning, and seeing others putting their entire self into it. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that you lived for it.

The thirst that turns your body in a unrecognizable anxiety-induced carnage, the adrenaline that endlessly floods from your brain to your toes, and the orgasmic, other-worldly sensation of having the victorious status placed upon you, shining like a crown.

And if you wouldn’t be able to live through it all again, you deserved to watch it unravel.

Your lips popped out of the cage of teeth you trapped them in.

A tiny smirk stretched them, illuminating your desperate face.

« Become an Olympic Champion next year. »

🤺

14-13

Anton’s hand felt too heavy on your knee, your scar jolted awake in bolts of pains by his sweet, sweet thumb grazing it. This abnormal pressure was shared by every pieces of fabric that stuck on your sprinkling skin. The scores and whistles controlled your now manual breathing. Your stomach tied itself around nothing recent to digest. You barely blinked, your blown up irises hysterically dancing in between the two players, studying their every movements. You also turned your knuckles a worrying shade of white as you gripped your plastic seat.

It was safe to say : you were losing your shit.

Eunseok have carelessly lost points all over the second part, screaming his rage out every time he did so. Your tongue could be bleeding from all those times you have refrained yourself from joining him in his act, or downstairs. Glancing at the score, realizing that you might be a point away for your world to collapse, was making your skin burn in all sorts of places, an acidic taste slowly blooming in your mouth. If it weren’t for the delightful, gut-wrenching spectacle you were a lucky live witness of, you’d be cursing yourself to the hells for that stupid challenge you gave him.

You actually thought he wouldn’t make it to the finale.

But now that he did, you found yourself praying for Yannick Borel’s immediate downfall.

« En Garde… »

He just had to miss two times.

« Prêts ? »

But he also just had to score, once.

« Allez ! »

You stopped breathing.

The players hopped in place, as did your indexes on the edge of your seat, as if they were little characters you controlled. The squeaky sound of their soles hitting the graphic floor echoed for a little while, until Eunseok decided to first break synchronization on their hops.

He feinted attacks on Borel’s under defensed’s left arm. And another one, down his thigh.

If Eunseok was a bolder fencer, he already would’ve had the point, you thought.

But he was the surprising the type.

The type you used to hate confronting.

Constantly playing defense, until they see a breach open, an opportunity to seize when your guard is down, and run to you with big steps, like a recurrent nightmare catching you up in your needed sleep.

Kissing you with death.

Borel understood, and grew accustomed to his attacking style at least 5 points ago.

Though, he still had a hard time defensing every parts of his body against it.

He defended his arm by wrapping it around his lower torso, crouched, now reaching for Eunseok’s thighs.

His sword swooped the air.

14-14

Eunseok landed from his jump, his point stinging Borel’s shoulder blades.

As soon as he scooped the victory off Yannick’s back, you were on your feet, screaming your lungs out. Anton jolted, placing his hand on your hips as an attempt to hold you if you were to fall. He looked up at you, watching you roar a « Come on » from the depths of your guts, a sound he has never quite heard before.

Under the Palais’ stadium lights, each and every strands of the crown of your hair, backlit to shades of blues and golds, made you look like an actual goddess. There he sat, in awe of the woman he was certain he could spend a lifetime worshipping. And there you stood, knowing you should be peeling your eyes away from Eunseok’s sweaty smile of relief plastered all over the screens, especially since Anton had a light grip on your shirt, but you thoroughly knew that you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop looking at him, the dark shiny hair strands that were glued to his forehead, the dimples that dug through his cheeks, and then, the switch in his eyes and furrowed eyebrows, when it was time to put the mask on, and lock back in.

You were the last of your row to sit back down as the arena grew quieter.

Waves of panic in it’s purest state crashed on your entire being, in forces that felt as if your soul would detach itself from your body. You were reaching stress-levels you thought unbeatable minutes ago. Anton quickly took notice of your trembling legs, and perfect manicure progressively getting ruined. His hands shielded yours from your shaking teeth, as he made you look at him for a second, thankfully, during time-out.

The sight of his soft traits relaxed yours in a miraculous instant.

His touch cooled you down.

His thumb lovingly caressing the side of your fist slowed down your breathing.

And as if your heart haven’t found enough peace in him, he reached for your hair, petting it, murmuring « Are you okay? » to the thresholds of your tortured soul.

You nodded, gulping your huge lie down your chest, where you felt a big pressure. It finally came down to you, in a flash, the absolute stupidity of your challenge.

You were possibly a point away from losing the one thing that made your life hold together.

The person who picked you up, pieces by pieces, from your shattered state on the court’s floor, to your first teary-eyed jogging session along the Han River.

The one person you’ve granted access to each and every parts of your body.

The one person who’d peel all of the pistachios, and gut out all the pomegranates for you.

The one person who’d sneak a sample of your perfume in all of his coat’s pockets.

The one person you’d cook for his mother, father, siblings, and himself.

The one person you’ve made a home with, and made a home of.

In the end, Anton has proved himself to be your favorite person in the entire world.

In the end, you were the one that always refused to teach him fencing, for your own selfish sake, when all he wanted was to know you, and each of the worlds you belonged to completely.

There was a part of your soul that you’ve denied him access to, and instead of complaining, or forcing you, he just waited.

You never ended your nod, your head still hanging low, out of shame, guilt, pain and everything else that has been crushing you for the entirety of the combat. Your partner peeked at your hidden face, and needed no more information than the muffled sound of you sniffing to bury your head in his chest. The last point was about to be gained, by a player or another, but you couldn’t peel yourself away from him. You couldn’t watch it.

It was better this way.

Everything was better in Anton’s arms.

Even losing him.

The same squeaky sound of the fencer’s shoes on the platform echoed yet again through the hall. The church-like silence that dances with them, though, have never felt so heavy on everyone’s shoulders. It was okay, though, with Anton’s palms on yours, and the beating of his heart to focus on. It oddly felt comforting to imagine that he knew about what was at stake here. His tight hold on you, feeling like the last grasp of air a drowning person would do. His focused eyes, replacing yours, as if you sent him to battle to death with Eunseok for you.

The actual battle that occurred beneath you felt like a never-ending one. As calm and still as you could be, you tested your patience and almost meditated to the sound of Eunseok’s hops and grunts, tickling your burning ear. Even if you’ve mentally fought yourself a few times to just fuck it and turn around, Anton wouldn’t allow you.

You were stuck to the bone, until the whistle would blow.

And it did.

And the announcer’s voice from the speakers, unknowingly, cracked open your life into two, one part of which you will never know the outcome of.

A part you were doomed to mourn, again, forever.

15-14

—

The sea of blue bleachers slowly cleared itself above you, as the Korean, French, and German flags lowered themselves to the ground. The rain of confettis slowly died down, also, pooling on people’s hair and shoulders. The crowd left in waves, the time in between the beautiful spectacle of sport they were all privileged enough to see, and the train of their lives about to restart, hanging in the air, lingering. Your eyes aimlessly swept around the Grand Palais, encountering as many celebrating and saddened faces as it could in a matter of seconds.

Though, it left you thoughtless.

You felt like nothing but a bag of blood, bones and flesh, walking in your man’s steps, lighter and lighter as you walked, free of all the stress that previously crushed your heart.

He guided you to an event you were certain of replaying throughout the rest of your life, but you numbly followed him still.

And you arrived to destination. Your first view being Eunseok’s shoes a meter away from yours.

Losing your knee, your life, your entire career, and processing it all from the beginning each time you fell asleep, was a hundred times easier than simply looking up.

Anton, your sweet Anton, slipped his hand out of your grasp to swiftly put it on your lower back, before he went reaching for Eunseok, who just like you, simply missed his college best friend.

The devastating sight of their embrace cured you from your aches. You saw love pour out of them, for each other. So much, that you briefly caught yourself suspecting a secret connexion, as some of the lingering touches and glances they offered each other happened to be a second too long. An inch too loving.

You didn’t have time, to investigate, though, as it was now your cue to get stabbed in the heart. You thought you’d explode out of love when you’d crash into Eunseok’s arms, and feel his heavy, dangling medal dig its way into your ribs. You thought you’d faint, or die, even.

Even though they were close to happening, none of them occurred.

He caged you in his sobbing body, matching yours, you melted, as did he. Your respective embraces crushed each of you, as much as it soothed you. You, by the salty smell of your firsts loves, fencing and Eunseok. And him, by the vanilla smell of the hair he’d lock in a singular braid before you’d go to battle, whether it was under the bleachers, or projectors. He had to stop himself from running his hand through it, for the sole public of this scene silently grew impatient, and jealous.

You knew it.

He knew it.

And you stayed there, privately celebrating, inhaling and already missing each other.

Before he could peel himself off, you heard him whisper an apology by the crook of your neck, instantly raising the hairs on it, and making your fists tremble around his fresh suit.

He patted the new growing sobs away on your back, and looked up to the glass ceiling, through which he caught the moon, looking down on your doomed, broken souls.

You eventually parted, as the universe, and the referee decided.

« Congratulations on your medal, Eunseok. » You managed to say, looking directly into his eyes.

You haven’t known any heavier burden to carry other than the white silver rock on your ring finger, matching the shiny medal that covered the pieces you left his heart in.

« Congratulations on your wedding, Y/N. » He replied, sincerely smiling.

GOTHAMGF©

author's note : muahahaha.... this is my very first riize work and work in a long while. hope you enjoyed, I really liked writing this :)

#riize ff #riize masterlist #eunseok #anton #riize ensemble #riize school #eunsoek x reader #Anton x reader #fencing ff #basketball ff #swimmer anton #riize imagines

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