#definitely one of the best games of the year

[brenwritesss]

My Best Friend's Best Friend

Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: Azzi’s been one of your best friends since you were a kid. Transferring to UConn was not easy, but having your best friend by your side made it better. That is until you meet a familiar pair of blue eyes that Azzi makes you swear is off-limits.

“Azzi, I can’t do this no more,” you said, pausing to take a long breath out of exhaustion. “Too many boxes.”

Azzi pushed the last box into your new dorm room behind you. Transferring from UMiami to UConn was not what you had in mind a year ago, but after finishing your sophomore year, you knew you needed something different, even if you didn’t want to leave the beautiful Florida beaches behind. When Azzi brought up the idea of you transferring to UConn, at first you didn’t consider it, but waking up every day to a text from your best friend giving you a reason to why you should transfer to her school may have been enough to convince you.

“It’s your fault for packing up this much shit.” She opens up one of the boxes beside you and reaches for an old psychology textbook. “I mean why are you bringing shit like this with you? You’re not even majoring in psychology.”

You take the book away from her, earning a laugh in return. “You never know when you might need it. Besides, this has all of my old notes in it from when I took psychology freshman year…it could be useful.”

Azzi plops onto your new bed, putting her hands behind her head as she lies down. “You call it useful, I call it hoarding.”

Slightly offended at her joke, you take a pillow from the floor and throw it at her. “Watch your mouth, Fudd.”

Azzi catches the pillow with ease and holds it in her lap. “On that note, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” you say, smiling at her. You cross your arms over your chest. “At least now I can finally see you ball in person.”

Azzi let out a laugh that proved your point. “Perfect timing now that I’m cleared to play, don’t you think?”

“You calling me your lucky charm or what?” You send a playful wink and Azzi being Azzi, she blushes before rolling her eyes.

“Stop fucking flirting with me.” 

You burst out laughing. “Azzi, babes you need to work on your game,” you say between laughs. “And I’m not talking about ball.”

Azzi could practically get her eyes stuck in the back of her head from the amount of times she was rolling her eyes at you. “You always do this. Enough.”

“It’s not my fault my best friend is so hot,” you continue laughing. “I know I’m not the only one flirting with you.”

“I swear you’re just like Paige,” she says under her breath just enough for you to hear it.

“Paige…like your teammate Paige? From USA basketball camp?”

Azzi meets your eyes and nods. “Yeah, she’s a freak. Always says she’s got ‘top rizz in the world’ or something like that,” she puts her fingers up in air quotations. “She somehow got worse from high school.

“That’ll be crazy to see.” You’ve heard of Paige Bueckers. Who hasn’t? You remember when Azzi first brought her up after competing with her for team USA back in high school. The first time you met Paige was when she flew to Virginia to visit Azzi during her state championship and Katie had you two meet. She definitely made her presence known back then, especially at Azzi’s games, yelling at the refs and constantly bumping into your shoulders.

You remember one night specifically when it was Azzi’s birthday party and when everyone went to sleep, you and Paige went out on a late Taco Bell run because there was no more pizza left. That was the first time you had a real conversation with the blonde girl. And you weren’t oblivious; you noticed when her gaze lasted on you for more than it should’ve. And she always noticed when yours lasted on hers too long. And when you leaned in a little more than you should have; and she mirrored your action.

The last time you saw Paige Bueckers as a friend, you had just received your decision letter from UMiami and had gone to Azzi’s house to open the letter. You remember screaming and jumping with Azzi and her family when you read that you had been accepted. Paige had walked up to you to congratulate you on your admission with a fist bump. The touch was electric and you swore that for five minutes after, you could still feel her knuckles against yours.

Hours later after dinner with the Fudd’s, you walked out of their house to get into your car when you heard footsteps behind you.

“Yo, wait.”

You turn around, seeing Paige in front of you. “What’s up?”

“I’m very happy for you. Miami seems cool.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused as to why she stopped you to say this again when she had said it earlier. “Thanks. Good luck at UConn.”

“Thanks,” she says and pauses, looking as if she was contemplating her next sentence. “Is this the last time I’m seeing you?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. If you ever visit Azzi during breaks, then you’ll probably see me.”

“And if I don’t want to wait until breaks?”

You were taken back. “What?”

“Like when Azzi comes to UConn, which she will, you’ll come visit?”

You shrug again. “Depends on how things go.”

“I’ve actually been wanting to say something to you since that night at Taco Bell.” She looked down at the ground before looking back up at you.

“Okay.”

“Look, what we did…I just want you to know that you kinda been on my mind since.”

You nod slowly. “It’s really hard to take you seriously when you refer to it as ‘that night at Taco Bell.’”

Paige lets out a low laugh. “What would you call it then?”

“Call it what it is. We made out in your car that happened to be parked in the Taco Bell parking lot.”

Paige smiles. “So you’d be down to do it again then?”

“Don’t tell Azzi.”

“Deal.”

“How is Paige?” You ask Azzi, pretending as if you’re just making normal conversation but really, you’re waiting to hear the information you’ve known since you cut things off with Paige.

Azzi shrugged. “Annoying as fuck, ego through the roof, always laughing. So basically the same since you last saw her.”

“Yeah, she’s grown into a bit of a celebrity hasn’t she?”

“Yeah. Have you seen the edits?”

You nod.

“You know what, I should text Paige. Let her know you transferred,” she says, taking out her phone. “I’m sure she’ll be stoked to see you.”

Your eyes widened. “I’m sure she’s busy enough.”

Azzi shook her head. “No she’s not, trust. She asks about you sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I just tell her to text you since she has your number.” Azzi continues to text on her phone, not looking up at you once.

“Like I said, probably busy.”

Azzi puts her phone down after she finishes her text. “One thing I want to talk to you about though.”

“Yeah?” You meet her gaze and bite your lip, waiting to see what she’ll see.

“Paige is a bit different,” she tells you. “I don’t know what happened but after she graduated and came here, she became a bit of a fuckboy. So, if she flirts with you or anything like that, don’t think too much into it because she now flirts with everything with a heartbeat.”

“That’s…interesting,” you comment, knowing the answer as to why she changed. “Out of curiosity, what do you think happened?”

Azzi shrugged. “Don’t tell her I’m telling you this but the Summer before she left for UConn, I think she had a girlfriend or something. She started getting like secretive as fuck and more happy in a way. Then after she left for college, I think they broke up because she was in a slump and started hooking up with girl after girl.”

“Do you know who the girl was?”

Azzi shook her head. “Not at all, but I do know that she broke Paige’s heart. So I automatically hate her by default.”

If only she knew that girl was standing right in front of her.

“Azzi I told you I don’t want to go out tonight,” you argue, trying to walk back to your dorm. 

Azzi’s hand grabs yours and pulls you into step with her. “No, you need to make more friends and I want you to meet the rest of my team.”

“Maybe another time,” you continue to argue. This was the moment you had been dreading when you knew that Azzi would eventually drag you out to see her teammates. More specifically, Paige.

“No, you’re going.”

Azzi opens the door to Ted’s and waits for you to walk in before she does. You immediately scan the bar, looking for the tall blonde and your skin immediately started to crawl when you realized she was nowhere in sight. She should be here, you thought to yourself. This is her place, why isn’t she here?

You tried to convince yourself that you wanted nothing to do with her after you chose to walk away from her, but deep down you knew that was a load of bullshit. You just needed to see her.

“Azzi, over here!” A voice called out from over the loud music in the bar. Both you and Azzi looked over to your left being met with a table full of girls, some of which wearing UConn merchandise. You had recognized some of them from when Azzi would post them on Instagram.

Azzi grabbed your hand and pulled you over to the table. Still there was no sign of Paige.

“This is Y/n,” Azzi said as she introduced you to her teammates. “She just transferred from Miami.”

You take a small step behind Azzi, meeting the eyes of all the tall girls who sat there looking at you. “Hi.” Was all you could say because even though Paige wasn’t there, you could practically feel her presence in the air. And that put you even more on edge.

“Girl boo, why you so nervous?” A girl who you recognized from Azzi’s instagram walked to stand beside you, draping an arm over your shoulder. “Azzi been talking shit behind our backs or something?”

“KK, can you not?” Azzi laughs over the loud music and grabs a drink that was sitting on the table. “You’re going to scare her off.”

“How can we scare her off? She’s already friends with you,” KK retaliates and the entire table erupts in laughter.

“KK that’s so mean.” A girl who you learn to be Aubrey, says. 

After a while you begin to let loose, taking the drinks that Azzi keeps offering you, knowing that at any moment she could show up and you wanted to be drunk for it. It wasn’t a surprise that the team took you in as if you were one of their own and Azzi couldn’t be happier that you had acclimated so quickly. 

You felt like you’ve been at Ted’s for days, dancing and drinking so much that you felt as if your entire body could explode within a matter of seconds. You normally weren’t much of the party type, even back in Miami. Sure, you had your fair share of frat and sorority parties but you never stayed for more than a few hours, and it helped that your roommate wasn’t that much into the party scene either. 

“So what are you studying?” KK asks you as she sips on a coke.

It takes a while for her words to register with you as your head is being pulled in a million different directions. “Um,” you start, shaking your head as the music somehow gets louder. “Switched from psychology to business my sophomore year.”

KK’s eyes widened slightly. “Period. That’s a huge switch girl.”

You nod, “Yeah, uh…” You can’t feel your head. You can’t organize your thoughts. It’s all too much. You squint your eyes and make eye contact with her. “If you see Azzi, tell her I’m going to get some fresh air. I’ll be right back.”

“O-okay,” KK said with a concerned expression, making you waste no time in heading towards the bar’s exit.

As soon as you feel that air rushing to you, you were finally calming down. You took this moment to ground yourself and lean against the wall of the bar, catching your breath. She’s not coming, no reason to freak out. You grab your phone to check the time, seeing that it was only 11:30 p.m. You shut your eyes, feeling yourself becoming even calmer.

A car door slams about a couple hundred feet away from you and the hair on the back of your neck immediately stands up. 

“I told you I didn’t want to come here tonight. Is it so hard to understand that I just wanted to spend time with you alone?” A high-pitched voice echoes through the air.

“And I told you we could have done that any other day. Just not today.” That sounds familiar.

“Why? What’s so special about today that you have to come to Ted’s?” The girl seemed so pissed you could have sworn she would have left by now.

That familiar voice sounded irritated. “Team’s here and I want to hang with them.”

“You see them everyday.”

“Please baby?”

Just look up and open your eyes.

“Fine but you owe me.”

What sounds like a kiss makes it’s way to your ears, making you almost gag on instinct. “I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry.”

And that’s when you look up and see the tall blonde you have been dreading to see since you arrived in Connecticut. Everything about her was still so perfect. How was that even possible? Those hands you had held, lips you had kissed, arms you’ve been in. The smiles she would give you. It all came rushing back in that instant. Azzi was right, she looked just fine out here without you. You convinced yourself that you would be better without her, finding someone new and moving on. Only in this moment, you realized that she had moved on with someone else and you were stuck right back in the place you had started.

And when her eyes glance up as she’s about to walk into the bar and locks with yours, it’s enough to make her stop in her tracks and make her arms fall to her sides. It’s enough to make you wonder if she really was just fine. You can’t look away and neither can she. Her body tells you that she’s different. That she doesn’t know you anymore. But her eyes tell you that she’s the same girl from senior year. The same girl from the late night drives and secret makeouts. The same girl who told you to come to UConn with her before you left. 

You wake up with a pounding headache, feeling groggy and uncomfortable as you shifted to get out of bed. You pick up your phone which is filled with missed messages from Azzi.

Where you at?

KK said you went out for air but you never came back. U ok?

Should I be sending out a search party for you?

Paige just got here and said she didn’t see you outside.

Didn’t see you? That bitch. You were all she could see for maybe five whole fucking minutes. You text Azzi back: sorry had a pounding headache so went back to the dorm. Sad I missed her, maybe next time.

You put your phone back down to change into a new outfit, figuring the best way to distract yourself from Paige would be to go to the dining hall and eat. After getting changed, you grab your phone and walk out of your dorm room, locking it behind you. When you turn back around, you’re met with a tall body in front of you from across the hall.

“Y/n.” Paige is standing in front of you, hair messy and sweatpants just a bit lower than her waistline, exposing the band of her boxers. It was clear to you where she was coming from. And just your luck that you would be living across the hall from her fuckbuddy.

You wanted to scream at her. For what? You had no idea. You wanted her to feel how you felt last night. Every piece of it. So you may have said the most stupidest response you could have ever said at that moment. “Do I know you?”

Her head tilted slightly, the smallest flash of hurt in her eyes. She bites her lip before responding, “You can’t be serious.”

“You should pull up your pants, fuckboy isn’t a good look on you.” And all you do is walk away, leaving her there in the hallway because even though you want to talk to her, you have to move on now. And she needed to know that.

We need to talk.

You don’t get to be upset with me.

You put your phone on Do Not Disturb, letting out a long sigh before putting on Azzi’s jersey. Today they were playing Seton Hall at home and Azzi immediately dropped off her jersey at your dorm, saying you needed to ‘represent your team and show your support.’ In other words, she wanted to make you finally wear her jersey after you had refused to wear it since high school.

You meet up with Kayla early at Gampel, making sure to get good seats to be able to see the court up close. Azzi had introduced you to Kayla shortly after meeting her teammates and the two of you clicked instantly. Because even though she was good friends with the team, she understood what it was like being on the sidelines while they focused on basketball. 

“Did Azzi make you wear her jersey?” Kayla asked you, eyeing the huge 35 that was written across your torso.

You laugh, nodding to her as you take a picture of the court on your phone. “Yeah, she’s been trying to get me to wear her jersey since high school. I figured I’d finally let her win that battle.”

Kayla laughs along with you. “She tried to get me to wear it too so I opted for a shirt with her face on it. Same with Paige.”

You hated to admit it but your eyes lit up at the mention of Paige. “Bet Paige loved that.”

“Yeah, she did.” Kayla looks over at you. “You’ve known her for a while right?”

“Paige?” you ask. “Yeah, I met her back in high school when she came to visit Azzi.”

Kayla raised her eyebrows. “So how was she in high school? Huge ego or no?”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Ego is always huge. But from what I remember, she was cool. We got along well and she was insane when it came to basketball. Still is.”

“Were you guys close?”

You stay silent for a while, trying to choose the right words. Because you two were as close as two girls could be and nobody knew that. But now you were as far apart as you had been before you had even met. “Something like that.”

The lights dimmed and the announcer came on, announcing the team as each player ran out. Azzi comes running out of the locker room, a huge grin plastered across her face. As soon as she makes it onto the court, she flashes you a smile and sends you a thumbs up, which you return. She sits down as the others run through and you wait for Paige to come out. She was the last to run through and you could feel your heart physically leap out of your chest for her. Fucking embarrassing.

Paige high-fives fans through the tunnels and goes to sit down by Azzi, not before meeting your eyes in the crowd, making her stop in her tracks for just a split second before sitting down. Her eyes were taunting, almost daring you to make a move. And by the look in her eyes, she wasn’t going to reject it either. At least that’s what you were thinking.

The game starts with UConn winning the tip-off and Kaitlyn getting possession of the ball. Throughout the quarter, Paige couldn’t stop making eye contact with you and you knew better than anyone that just your presence alone was enough to throw her off her game. She missed shot after shot resulting in a furious Geno yelling more than usual on the sideline. After missing two free throws, Azzi pats Paige on the back, giving her a look that screams ‘get it together.’ You could tell Paige was tense by the way her hands were balled into fists when she didn't have possession of the ball. She constantly tightened the elastic of her ponytail, a habit she had when she got nervous.

By halftime, Paige looked defeated and maybe that was your cue to leave. It was hard to believe that an ex-girlfriend from high school would be enough to throw off the game of the number one women’s college basketball player in the world. But here we are.

You knew Paige was feeling out of her element, watching past UConn games during your free time back in Miami. She was a good player. A good enough player to not be playing in a funk. Was your presence that triggering?

Eventually, Paige was subbed out, an irritated expression across her face as she sat down on the bench with her shoulders slumped. Caroline sat beside her, patting her shoulder gently to aid her in comfort. Paige took a sip of water before using a towel to wipe off the remaining sweat from her face. You go from staring at the back of her head to making eye contact with her as she turns to look at you. You quickly look away, completely embarrassed over the fact that Paige knew you were definitely already looking at her.

You look down at your feet and then back up towards the game when Paige catches your eye again, nudging her head towards the locker room. You shake your head, trying not to make it obvious to Kayla who was too engrossed in the game even to notice the small interaction. Paige’s mouth created a small line as she gave you an urgent look, resulting in you sighing and getting up out of your seat to walk to the locker room. 

You meet her just past the door. “What?”

Paige closes the door to the locker room, leaving only you two inside. She leans against the door and crosses her arms together in front of her chest. “You’re ignoring me.”

You mimic her movement and cross your arms against your chest. “Ignoring what exactly?”

Paige rolls her eyes. “Don’t fucking be like that. You don’t get to be pissed at me. Why the fuck are you upset with me? I haven’t seen you in four years, Y/n.”

Your name came so effortlessly from her mouth like muscle memory. The way her jersey clung to her body, your eyes outlining her biceps up to her eyes. She was magical. You tear your eyes away, not wanting to make it obvious. “I’m not fucking upset with you. I actually haven’t thought about you once since I’ve been here.”

Paige laughs at that. “Not once? Because the way you looked at me outside of Ted’s and outside of your dorm makes it seem like you have a grudge against me or something.”

“I don’t,” you say, avoiding eye contact with her. “What exactly do you want me to say? It’s clear you moved on.”

Paige’s eyes widened, practically popping out her face. “That’s what this is about? Because of that girl you saw me with?” She unravels her arms from each other and points at you. “You fucking broke up with me four years ago. Why the fuck are you upset about me getting with other people?”

“I’m not fucking upset!” you scream as it echoes across the locker room. “I’m trying to leave you in my fucking past and you keep popping up like a goddamn fly.”

“So you thought transferring to the school where I play basketball was a good way to leave me in your past?” she asked you with a dumbfounded look on her face.

“Not everything is about you, Paige,” you say. “I transferred here because I needed out of Miami and Azzi came up with the idea. I don’t care who you date.”

“Right because you definitely weren’t pissed to the point where you pretended you didn’t know who I was when you walked out of your dorm a few weeks ago.” 

“Paige.” Your tone becomes lighter. “Up until that night outside Ted’s, I hadn’t seen you since right before I left for Miami. And you look so different to the point where I don’t recognize you.”

Paige rolls her eyes. “It’s called aging.”

You shake your head, giving her an annoyed look. “I’m not talking about your physical look. I’m talking about senior year Paige who went on late-night drives with me.”

“Well, that was the same Paige who got her heart broken by a girl who didn’t even bother trying to make it work. It was clear you weren’t that into me like I was with you.” You could hear the pain in her voice and that made your heart hurt. Even after four years.

“I didn’t break your heart. I’ve heard the stories about what you’ve been up to since we broke up and it seems like you’re doing just fine.”

Paige shifts her body so that she’s standing in front of you again, practically forcing eye contact. Her having a towering height over you didn’t help either. “And what have you heard?”

You meet her eyes and shrug. “Apparently you get around a lot.”

She shoots you a disgusted look. “And you haven’t? Azzi’s told me about the girls you’ve dated since you left.”

You roll your eyes once more. “Okay.”

“You seem to be really into blue eyes and blonde hair by the way. I wonder who set that type up for you.” Paige smirked at her remark, resulting in you letting out a loud scoff.

“At least I tried to date the girls I was seeing.” You take a step closer. “Do all the hookups help?”

Paige looks down at you, taking a step closer with her hands behind her back. “To get rid of the thought of you? What do you think?” You can’t think of anything else to say and she knows it. She knows she’s getting you right where she wants you. “Why are you upset that I was with another girl?”

“It’s hard not to feel some type of way,” you say quietly, mumbling so fast to save your own dignity.

Paige leans closer. “Sorry, what was that? Couldn’t quite hear you.”

You sigh heavily before repeating, “It’s hard not to feel some type of way.”

She leans even closer. “One more time.”

“Don’t be a dick.” You pull away from her and she lets out a laugh.

“So after four years, you’re jealous?”

“And you wouldn’t be?”

The look on her face was priceless. Amused yet confused because five minutes ago you were just screaming at her and now you just admitted to your ex-girlfriend that she made you jealous. Paige stepped closer and you had no interest in stepping back. It took everything in you not to step even closer to her. 

“You’re infuriating and I should hate you.”

You tilt your head up to her. “And do you?”

“Shut the fuck up.” In a second, she’s on you. Pulling at your clothes and moving her mouth with yours. You waste no time in responding to her touch, moving your lips against hers while your fingers tangle into her ponytail. You let a hand drift down to the base of her jawline and all those old, high-school feelings came rushing back. In that moment you realized just how much of a hold she had over you, her touch bleeding into yours. 

This kiss made up for four years of mistakes. Four years of missing her and regretting that decision you made. You needed to prove to her that it wasn’t going to happen again. And by the way her tongue fought against yours was as if she believed it too. Your heart beat picked up as you both fell into a steady and rough rhythm. Paige couldn’t decide whether she wanted her hands around your waist or caressing your lower back, moving her hands upward. You could feel Paige craving you as she moved her lips faster, more aggressively. You kept your hands on her jaw to stabilize yourself as you thought you might faint. You could smell the subtle musk mixed with sweat that drifted off of her, the heat coming off her body and pulling you in.

“What the fuck?” Azzi’s voice pulled your lips apart, causing you to instantly take a step away from Paige, whose hands still lingered on your back.

The two of you, swollen lips and sweaty hands, turn to Azzi who looks as if she has seen a ghost, dropping the towel she was holding from pure shock.

Paige wipes her lips, looking from you back to Azzi. “Az, hey.”

Azzi’s eye twitched, insinuating that she was clearly pissed. “Hey?” Azzi takes a step forward. “What the fuck did I just see?”

You turn to fully face Azzi and Paige looks back at you. You step towards Azzi. “Azzi, I swear this isn’t what it looks like.”

“That’s bullshit. I just saw my two best friends making out.” 

You shake your head, “No, no…” you pause. “Well yeah, but we’re not together or anything. It just happened. A one-time thing, I swear.”

Paige’s head snaps toward yours. You fucked up once again. “One-time thing?”

Azzi looks between the two of you. “Y/n, what is she talking about?”

A million thoughts ran through your head, debating if you should tell Azzi that you and Paige had dated. It felt wrong to keep it from her for this long. You sigh, scratching the back of your neck. “Paige and I used to date back in high school.”

“What?” Azzi asked, clearly hurt written over her face.

You walk towards her so that you’re now right in front of her. “That night at your sleepover when Paige was visiting, we left to go to Taco Bell and things happened in the parking lot which turned into us secretly dating for a while.”

Azzi shook her head and looked to Paige, looking for any sense of clarity. “Paige?”

Paige couldn’t look at her, light tears lining her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Azzi’s head drops. “So you both have been lying to me this whole time? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to mess up our friendship or mess up yours and Paige’s,” you say, trying to justify your mistake.

Azzi couldn’t even look at you. “This is fucked, Y/n.” She paces the locker room and suddenly pauses, turning towards you. “You’re the girl.”

“What?”

“The girl who broke Paige’s heart.” Azzi looks between the two of you again. “It was you this entire time?”

Paige steps in front of you, waving her hand slowly in front of Azzi to try to calm her down. “Azzi, that was four years ago.”

Azzi laughs. “So the entire time I watched you hurting was because of my best friend?”

You turn to Paige who avoids eye contact with you. You turn back to Azzi. “It was fucking high school, Azzi. We were both going to college. What was I supposed to do?”

Azzi grits her teeth, pointing a finger in your face. “You weren’t supposed to lie to me. Do you think I would have cared if you dated Paige in high school? No. But now I know that for the past four years, the two of you have been lying to me.”

“Azzi, we didn’t want to hurt you.” Paige stepped in for you, trying to diffuse the situation.

“If you really don’t want to hurt me, you won’t see each other anymore,” Azzi says.

You and Paige both widen your eyes. “What?”

“It would make me more comfortable if you guys didn’t hang out alone. At least not for a while.”

You go to object, wanting to work this out with her to reach any other solution. Because keeping you and Paige apart was not going to end well. 

Paige beats you to it. “Anything you want, Azzi.”

Your heart stops and your head snaps to her. How…why? Did she blame you for everything that’s happened? Why would she agree to that so quickly?

The two of them looked at you as they anticipated your answer. You blink a few times, trying to process Paige’s answer. “If that’s what you want then yeah, no problem at all.”

Azzi gives you both a light smile, nodding in agreement. “Okay good. That makes me feel a lot better actually.” Azzi picks up the towel she dropped on the floor, tossing it into a dirty towel bin. She waves Paige over. “Come on, we gotta go.”

Azzi leaves the locker room as Paige turns to you. “Not really sure what to say.”

You roll your eyes. “Really? Because it sounded like you were very sure when you told Azzi you’d do whatever she wanted.”

Paige leans toward your ear, whispering, “Payback’s a bitch isn’t it?”

And just like that, Paige is gone. Again.

[lavenders388]

~Valentine's Day Headcannons~

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Kang Dae Ho, Nam Gyu, Seong Gi Hun, Cho Sang Woo, Hwang Jun Ho⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆Kang Dae Ho

<3 Dae Ho strikes me as the type of boyfriend to have everything planned way ahead! he made your dinner reservations weeks in advance, submitted his order for your flowers! and any gifts he's gotten for you will be hidden somewhere waiting for the big day:)

<3 this man is stressed! (in a cute/excited way) trying to make sure you have the best valentines day ever:) he will wake up at dawn to get everything ready for you!

<3 i could also see him planning a vacation for just the two of you for valentines, like if it falls on a weekend that year he'll book a surprise air bnb or a nice hotel at the beach or something! anything to make you happy:)

<3 he would be delightfully surprised if you got him anything for valentines day; i cant see him expecting it! he is adamant that you didn't have to do anything for him and it was all his pleasure ensuring you had a great day and felt loved, but he is absolutely smitten with you getting him a valentines gift:)

<3 10000% writes a whole essay on how much he loves you on your card!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Nam Gyu

<3 i personally write for nam gyu as him being a good person and a good partner>:3 he would probably have to work over valentines, the club probably planned a valentines night that he had to promote and attend!! so he would wake up rather early (for him at least!) to ensure you get to have all of your valentines plans before he has to go to work!

<3 since he would be working around dinner time, he plans a nice breakfast for you! well more like brunch; but still! using his connections as a promoter he makes reservations for the two of you at this super trendy new brunch place that has like a year long waitlist!

<3 after brunch, he takes you shopping! i don't see him as being the type to get a ton of gifts, i feel like he'd enjoy following you around as you pick out things you like/need:)

<3 i could see him trying (and failing) to make you special homemade decorations or a card, but you think his scribbly artwork and the effort he put into it is the sweetest thing ever!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Seong Gi Hun

<3 before the games, he would have #nomoney to take you out somewhere. he would use whatever he had saved up to buy you a small gift and a card, and would try his best to make you the nicest homemade dinner at home!

<3 he would set up whatever candles he had around and would make garlands with little cut up hearts! maybe even asking gae young to help him:)

<3 after the games, he would most likely order food for pick up from a fancy restaurant, not being too interested in a night out:) he would set up decorations throughout the hotel and make you a card as you had a lovely dinner date at home:)

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Cho Sang Woo

<3 this man is getting you dinner reservations at the nicest and most exclusive place in town!

<3 if his work allows it, he would instead book a few days of vacation for the two of you over valentines day! definitely a resort or super nice hotel.

<3 books you and him a special all-exclusive day at the resort/hotel spa:)

<3 takes you on a lot, i mean A LOT of shopping trips as well as getting you nice gifts like designer items and flowers the day of:) he is really into finding the nicest and most intricate bouquets/flower arrangements!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Hwang Jun Ho

<3 not super into doing big gifts/decorations. he thinks all the commercialized aspects of valentines day takes away from personalizing gifts for your loved one.

<3 loves writing on cards for you! he sees the day as another chance to be able to express his love and appreciation for you!

<3 likes getting you flowers! he buys them the day of, no matter how busy shops are, so they will last longer for you:)

<3 enjoys going out to dinner but not particularly on valentines day, he would prefer to get take out and do something special and private at home! thinks everywhere is way too busy on valentines day.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

a/n: hope you all are having a lovely valentines day!!! -matcha 🍵

[alwaysobsessed777]

Ooo you could do one with Nika coming back to UConn the other day, maybe her gf is still in school (doesn’t have to be on the team) so they get to visit and go to the game together, just a fluffy one :)

BACK HOME - N.M.

Back on my shit....imma write my Nika fluff so enjoy

"I TOLD YOU!" Paige's voice echoed through the gym. Rolling my eyes, I chased after the ball.

"Next time....you're getting the ball yourself," throwing the ball a little harder than intended, it bounced off the blonde's head.

"BRO....WATCH THE BRAIDS!"

"Shut up, P," Azzi screamed from the bench, earning a stuck out tounge in return.

"Yeah, Twin. Shut up."

The voice stopped me in my tracks. Everyone's eyes landed on me. Slowly turning around, I was meet with the girl I had been missing for months.

Nika.

"Hey, baby," even before both words could fall from her lips, my arms wrapped around her. My head nuzzled itself into her neck. Words couldn't describe how much I've missed her.

"I see that I've been missed..." one of her hands gently rubbed my back, the other softly combing through my hair.

My head shot up, looking at the Croatian, "how...hie are you here?"

She pretended to think, "A plane...a car...anything really that moves would help me get here."

I chuckle, "shut up, smartass."

"you've missed it....i know it."

She wasn't wrong. I did miss it. I missed everything about her. Her smile, her eyes, her charm, her voice. You name it, I've missed it.

"Can we get going, bruh," the blonde's hand gripped onto my shoulder, but nothing adverted my attention from my girlfriend. "We have a game to warm up for...earth to y/n?"

"shut up, I'm with my girlfriend." Paige huffed, stomping off somewhere.

Nika separated us enough to intertwine our hands, walking is to the bench. Her waves of brown flowed over her shoulders, bouncing a little with each step.

"I wanna talk ...catch up on things," nervousness laced her voice. The small sound to her tone made her cute, the same voice she used to ask me out.

"that's sounds like an amazing idea," the seats being comfortable enough, we sat down. "I've missed you a lot, Nika."

"I've missed you too, y/n."

A silence fell between us, our eyes locking, before a comfortable laughter escaped both of us. The awkward tension being from not seeing each other for months, but you could feel it slowly dissipating.

"So...basketball season?"

I groaned, "don't get me started on it....like why are we good...but not like last year good."

"you don't have me..." she waited for my reaction, a smirk playing on her lips.

"you know....i know you're joking...but we truly need a get you back in a UConn jersey," laughing it out, Nika snickered.

"only if I could," a sadness contorted on her perfect features. I instantly felt bad.

"I'm sorry."

"hey...don't be. I'll eventually be able to get back on the court."

I nodded, "....are you excited to watch us tonight?"

"I'm excited to watch you!" Her hands clasped around my face, a smile stretched on her lips.

"I love you," she rested her forehead on mine, a small gesture that always made my heart flutter.

"I love you too," she leaned back, looking me straight in the eyes, "also...im wearing your jersey...i better see the best game ever from you."

"yes ma'am," snickering, her hands fell from my face.

She leaned in, capturing my lips in hers. They moved together as if they were a puzzle being pieced together. Her hands landing on my waist, pulling me closer to her. My hands worked towards the back of her neck. My fingers fiddling with her brown hair.

"uh...guy?" A voice broke is out of the small trance we were previously in. "Geno said stop sucking each others faces."

"Paige, shut up."

She held her hands up in surrender, "hey, don't kill the delivery guy."

"I think she said that completely wrong," I looked at the brunette beside me.

"she definitely did," she looked at me again with her brown doe eyes, my favorite sight, "I should let you get to practice...remember....play for me babe"

"I would never play for anyone else."

***********

A/n : sorry if this sucks.....I got the urge to write....and wrote half of this like asleep....don't ask how

[orchidyoonkook]

LASTONELASTONE!! I did it! and within the promised time frame too, look at me go! (Im taking any wins atm, please dont mind me)

ONTO!

why am i sobbing right now 😭😭😭😭 this was so fluffy this hang out ahhhhhh yoon it was adorable 😩😩🥺🥺🥹😭🥹😭🥹😭🥹

I love them i love them i love them. I LOVE THEM. I love how easy they are with one another, how effortless and thoughtless and easy.

oc and jungkook literally have my heart at this point i mean i am speechless the fact that she made this so special for him and he was looking out for her during the exams and the freaking gift i can't stop sobbing 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

One thing about OC is that if she can create some solstice magic for somebody, she absolutely will. She's like me in the sense that she thinks holidays should be celebrated for their true intentions, and that no one should be denied that magic.

I love that he can't help it either, like it physically pains him to see her like that so he's compelled to help. He's such a good man, that JK.

THE GIFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTT. OH I WAS SO STOKED FOR THAT. I love that he did it, I love the thought that went into it. That he noticed she has older brushes, 'lower' (but still good) quality brushes, brushes that look like theyve been used to much, and he used that information and just automatically decided that her passions and talent deserved the best instead of the best she could get herself. That he didn't think twice about the price of the gift because money has never been an issue for him, but he thought about the gifts impact and how it could help her achieve her dreams.

i think about his gift versus her unintentional on and their contrast a lot. I really enjoyed writing them.

so it was a mix of sobs turns blushes because of that muscle use talk hey (what a switch up)

sobbing and blushing with you!

And I like a lil spice with my fluff, what can I say. Balance is nice. I also like the natual growth of conversation, in a way that's expressed with a game of wits that turns into more trust and respect by the end of it. That's a complicated sentence, I hope that makes sense. XD

but omg the tree and the star (yoon how adorable you actually make those i love it that little add you did there)

I did! second year of college yoon wanted a christmas tree in her dorm real bad, so she went to her local dollarstore and got a little one and little baubles to match. But they didnt have tree toppers! So i took a cereal box out of my recycling bin, cut out a star, glued tin foil to the bitch and put'er on top of my baby tree. I still have and use it to this day. She remains super cute and festive.

and they are hugging now look it's one step closer to a kiss i will take it

I personally find hugs to be more intimate and passionate then kissing when done within the right context. A kiss? you can kiss anyone and have it mean nothing. But a hug? To be held? An embrace where you just hold another person because of the emotions your feeling can only be expressed tactiley like that? Hits different for me.

i can't get over how fluffy and homey this was and with the bodyguard too it just captured my heart i love this chapter it's definitely in my top 10 PJK moments (basically it's every interaction they have that's why it's 10 you get it) 🥹

THE GUARDS. MY BABIES. I love the guards, I love their positive masculine energy, I love that JK has them, and I love that they like OC. He's a little brother almost to most of them, they're the kind of older brothers who clearly aren't afraid to give their little bro shit, but are also his biggest cheerleaders when it counts. I just. I love my guards. I was so excited to introduce them finally.

holy shit top ten!!!!!! I'm honoured, flattered and in dire need of that list in ranked order so we can geek out together. (also so i can compare the current list to the list when the series if finished.)

(also also that is of course, not a request, only a "if you ever wanted to do so, I would be more than willing to read and geek")

and now they won't see each other over solstice i wonder how that's going to go i just know the texts are not gonna stop flowing i can not wait to see why happens in chapter 10

Chapter ten is currently 13.1k. :)

And in a slightly different format. But only slightly. You'll see what I mean when it's released <3

yoon please give a spoiler like a minor one okay give us a line a quote something please 🥹🖤

👀👀👀👀

Picasso [3:24pm]: Hey, if I wanted to mail you something while ur home, how would I do that??

👀👀👀👀

yoon you know i adore you and seeing how you have grown as a writer is the most beautiful thing and i just know you are going to do so many more great things i want you know i am here always and i adore you, your happiness means the world to me and i hope you are smiling and your days are filled with happiness - kiki 🖤

You know? I thought it was raining from how wet my face and clothes were, but it was actually just the ocean of tears this just made me shed in a downpour.

I can never, and will never be able to tell you how important reviews and humans like you are to me in particular, but to writers and creatives out there who do what I do. There is no us without you. I will say it in every. single. review. you write me, but you and folks like you are the reason fic and fic community stays alive, and I can never thank you enough for it. I'm so thankful and grateful for your constant and unwavering support, and for being on this wild writing ride with me as I grow with it.

I hope I can keep up the consistency of the writing style, and only improve as I go, as well as not screw up this story you love so dearly. I promise to try my best.

I am absolutely smilling and filled with happiness. I hope you are the same <3

Xo, Yoon

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 9

Title: Sugar Cookies and Devious Confessions

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Exams season and Solstice? Consider YN locked in, loaded, ready to go, hangry, and sentimental. Jungkook is just along for the ride with a hefty side of acts of service, quality time and physical touch are his love languages. Who'da thunk?

Warnings: T, language, fluff, so much fluff actually, I've surprised myself, semi-sexual conversations, JK is a menace but Reader can keep up...mostly, touch of angst tbh, reader gets hangry and is bad at taking care of herself sometimes, but apologises and makes up for it, mostly just wholesome this time. And fun!

Word Count: 6,675

Release Date: December 8, 2024. 12:30PM

A/N 1: Hiiiiiiiiiiii. It's here, thank you to those who reminded me. I literally would have forgotten for the third week in a row without them. I love you all.

A/N 1.5: Chapter ten will be coming sometime between Dec 20th-30th as it is festive and that's all I will say about it.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Jungkook’s learned many things about you since your friendship started. 

From your favourite colours to your favourite brush to paint with. He learned that you are always team morally gray love interest in the books you read in your limited spare time, although that one was learned a little against your will. 

He’d wanted to know why you always went for them, and very begrudgingly you admitted you found it appealing when they’d do anything to protect the main character. That they always did what they thought was best or what needed to be done despite their sad backstory, because for some reason, they all had sad backstories.

Every. Single. One of them. 

And you claimed it suckered you in every time. 

But through all of your time spent together—specifically during midterms—Jungkook learned just how much you ignore all of your basic needs as a human being when it comes to exams season. 

How you’ll forget to eat all day in favour of studying, or staying up late to finish your practical exam projects, making absolutely sure they’re up to your impossibly high standards, disregarding sleep.

So it doesn’t surprise him when he turns the corner to the greenhouse cafe to see you, thinner than normal with bags under your eyes, slaving away at something on your computer. 

He hates that he can tell you’ve lost weight through your winter clothing.

You look up, briefly smiling in greeting. He can tell just from how long it took you to notice him that you need a break, a good healthy meal and some sleep.

He smiles back, but bypasses you and walks straight into the cafe. You don’t think twice about it, already knowing what he’s doing.

“Hey Vivian,” he says to the barista.

“Hey JK, the regular?” She's restocking some cups and lids to the counter.

“Please, but tag on a hot chocolate for YN and some tarts.” Vivian nods, typing the order into the cashing system, very much used to either of you adding on each other's order to your own at this point.

“Machines ready for you,” she says, already prepping the first drink—his by the looks of it.

Jungkook pays and waits patiently, watching you from the window. 

“How long’s she been here?” he asks over the currently frothing milk—that’s for your hot chocolate.

“Since seven. She grabbed a tea and hasn’t moved since.” 

It’s almost 1:30 now, and Viv looks at him knowingly. She’s watched you do this to yourself every mid-term and exam season since you started. 

“Ah. I see.” He purses his lips.

It’s only a few minutes before the drinks and tarts are ready. Jungkook grabs them and heads out the door, calling a thank you over his shoulder.

“Okay look,” he says to grab your attention as he stands directly in front of you. The act of walking to the front of you alone clearly not enough to gain it. 

Looking up, your eyes widen in glee at the treats he carries. You attempt to reach for them but he pulls them back.

“Nuh uh, you need food.” 

You look at him confused. “Those are food.”

“No, these are the reward. You need a meal.” 

You try to interrupt him. Most likely to say you do eat meals, but instant ramen or a box of mac'n'cheese do not count, and he cuts you off before you can. “A healthy meal, Picasso, something to give your body nourishment and energy. One that fills you up.”

You scowl at him. 

“But–”

“No buts,” he cuts you off again. “Healthy food. Full, happy belly food,” he says, gently patting his stomach so not as to spill his drink. “Pack up, we’re going to the cafeteria and getting you some.”

“But–”

“Y/N,” he says sternly, giving you a look that says he will not be budging on this, and that if you refuse, he’s going to throw you over his shoulder to ensure it happens. 

It was the voice of a future King, he thinks. Then internally shudders. That’s not who he is with you, but he can admit that sometimes this side of him comes in handy during times like these. 

“Fine.” You snip, very clearly not happy about this.

Fortunately, you don’t seem to have any art supplies with you today, just your computer, a notepad and pencil case. You gather them quickly, throwing them into your backpack with an annoyed look because you don’t want to stop, but he’s forcing your hand.

He doesn’t care. You need this, and it’s clear as hell you were not going to do it on your own.

You were so fucking stubborn sometimes. 

His mask, hat and baggy shirt combo mixed with some large combat boots and a slight slouch in posture has worked wonders disguising him from the public so far. In fact, he’s pretty sure it intimidates some people seeing as how they nearly jump out of his way. You’ve joked about it before, calling it his ‘scary dog privilege’…whatever that meant. 

Jungkook doesn’t mind, though. Despite being four months into the school year, and his speech at the beginning, people still fawn and stare at him. Trying to get his attention, his approval. Anything to get something from him, even if it’s just a look in their direction. 

He wonders if it will ever die down, if it'll ever go away. Or if with new freshmen every year, a new horde of people will seek him out. 

So, he’s grateful that with this little disguise on, no one bats an eye at him as you two walk the fifteen minutes it takes to get across campus to the cafeteria. He knows you’re more than mentally drained, because you’re not checking over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one realizes you’re with him like you usually do. 

You enter the main building, luckily the cafeteria on the ground floor, just near the back. Once there, you walk straight to the fridge of premade to-go foods. Grabbing a fruit cup, a chicken caesar salad, and a container of mixed vegetables with dip, you turn to him.

“Is this good enough for you?” you snark.

“Yep, great choices,” he says, ignoring your tone. “Very healthy and nutritious. Plus you nearly have all the food groups.”

“I do have all the food groups,” you say back, deadpan.

Wow…

You really need some sleep, he’s never heard you sound so lifeless. Or mean. You’re only ever truly mean when you’re beyond exhausted, too tired to care. 

He’d say your mood and overall vibe is like a mixture of brown and gray, but he knows if he said it out loud you’d make him specify which specific shades of brown and gray, so he keeps the thought to himself. Both not to provoke you and to be polite.  

“You’re missing dairy and grain,” he says.

You point to his hands holding the tarts and drink.

“Fair point,” he concedes, and trails you to the register, grabbing a protein shake from a nearby fridge on the way. His card is out and paying before you can reach for your wallet and you accept it, even too worn out to yell at him for buying you something. 

Hot chocolate and the occasional bag of tarts you're fine with, because half the time you’re also buying him his coffee and sharing your tarts, so you see it as a fair trade. But anything outside those and you damn near throw a fit, claiming you don’t need him to spend his money on you. 

You never want anything from him, so unlike everyone else in his life.

He leads you to a more private booth in the corner, scary dog privilege in full effect as no one dares stand in his way, and you very unceremoniously plop down, sluggishly shucking off your bag and coat. 

Definitely a brownish-gray. 

You two eat and drink in silence; you, slowly picking away at your food, him, finishing his drink then eating the vegetables from the container you don’t like. It’s a peaceful silence, contented as your mood gradually improves and some colour returns to your face the more you get into your system. 

The sight relieves him. 

“Sorry,” you say, eyes glued to the table, unable to look at him. And he knows it’s for the way you treated him pre-food.

“No worries,” he replies. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. That's good.”

Jungkook wasn’t going to push, but now that your mood’s improving, he hopes it’s safe to.

“Hey,” you look up at him, the bags under your eyes more evident under the artificial light and his heart breaks a little at the sight. “Promise me you’ll get some sleep tonight?”

A small close lipped smile finds your face, eyes soft, appreciative. The corner of his own lifts to match. 

“I promise I’ll try.”

You fall asleep early that night, 9pm. 

You don’t know what allows you to, but your exam worries fade and assignment anxiety slips from your mind the heavier your eyes grow. In the back of your head however, a thought slips through your defenses; you know it’s because of the look in Jungkook's eyes when he’d asked you too. 

The one of worry—genuine worry—for you. 

You hate yourself for causing it. You never want him to have to worry about you, god…he already has so much on his plate, you don’t want to add to it. 

But mostly…

But mostly you let yourself succumb to slumber because you don’t want to disappoint him. 

He asked you so kindly, and you know he had your best interests at heart when he did. He always does. 

You don’t have it in you to deny him that simple favour. To take care of yourself a little better.

So you sleep, just this once. For him. To help relieve him of the stress you caused.

And you know that that thought is what lets you until 10am the next day.

You feel better than you have in weeks.

You have everything you could possibly need to make all the recipes you have planned for today. Eggs, flour, sugar, soju, cutters, extracts, ginger, honey, chocolate chips, food colouring, some fruit concentrates and more are stuffed into the bags that dangle from your now struggling arms. There’s also another much lighter bag filled with a surprise for him that sits near the crook of your elbow. 

 Jungkook’s not going to know what hit him.

The door clicks open and you watch his eyes nearly leave his skull before he reaches to take them from you.

“Oh wow, you really weren’t kidding were you,” he says as he takes them to the kitchen with ease. 

Stupid muscles, you think, but the thought doesn’t hold for too long, glad at having your arm circulation back. 

“Solstice cookies are no joke in my house,” you say, following him.

“Clearly.”

He starts taking things out of the bags and you grab the one with the surprise in it before he can get to it.

“Won’t we need that?” he asks.

“Yes, but it’s not for cookies,” you start backing away towards the living room, bag behind your back. “It’s a surprise.”

Jungkook has a goofy grin plastered on his face as he follows you, and you put one on to match.

You stand in front of the coffee table and order him to sit and close his eyes, a sarcastic ‘yes ma’am’ comes from his lips, but he does as told. 

You set the contents of the bag on the coffee table; a small fake tree with built in lights, some tiny baubles in a box, a star, a polaroid camera and a custom, empty ornament.

“Okay, open!”

Jungkook opens his eyes and the same goofy grin returns, but this time there’s a sparkle in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

His voice is gentle and lovely when he asks, “What’s all this Picasso?”

“Your very own tree to decorate. We have lights, decorations, even a star for the top,” you say as he leans and picks up the star. “You said you didn’t really celebrate anymore so I wanted to bring some celebration back to you—if you wanted to, that is.”

He twirls the star in his hand, smile never leaving, as he inspects it closer. “Did you make this?”

You turn sheepish. “Ah… yeah. They don’t really sell mini toppers for the mini trees, just the baubles, so that guy’s made from the finest cereal box cardboard and tinfoil on the market.”

He just stares, at the star, at the tree, then to you. You can’t tell if you screwed up or not. Did he hate this?

But then he’s standing and you’re in his arms as he hugs you. 

You freeze, unsure of what to do for a second, before you let your arms go around him, hugging him back. 

He’s solid, you can feel the strength in him as he breathes, and the weight in his arms as they hold you. 

But also warm. So warm your cheeks start to heat to match the rest of your body that seems to be on fire. 

It ends before it barely started, and you find yourself missing him the second he’s gone. 

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head as if not realizing what he’d just done until after he stopped. You want to tell him it was okay, but he says, “thank you,” immediately after, and squats down to open the baubles. 

“You’re welcome,” you say as you watch, sitting down on the couch. He looks like a kid, the brightest of smiles on his face as he goes to place the first one, but pauses, and hands it to you. 

“You know better than me where to start.”

You giggle, placing the red sphere near the middle, and gesture for him to put on the next one. It continues like this until the box is empty, you then him, then you then him. He places the last ornament and looks to you, star in hand. 

“You do it,” you say. You’ve done this a million times with your mum, you doubt he’s done the same.

He carefully grabs the top branch that sticks up, placing the star over it. Your heart swells at how gentle he is with your handmade decoration. 

“Now the last step,” you say, as you reach for the camera. This was your favourite tradition with your mother, the yearly solstice picture. You have one from every single year after you were born, and even one with you in your mum’s belly. 

“Turn around,” you say, spinning your finger and he does, you follow.

You’re both on the ground in front of the tree, and you lift the camera, leaning into him. Still so warm. He leans right back. 

“Say 'Solstice!'” you call out, and smile.

“Solstice,” he says with you as you snap the picture.

You pause for a moment, making sure the image is done capturing before leaning away again. 

The image prints out, and you take hold of it, shaking so it develops faster. 

“Can you get some scissors, and a permanent marker?” you ask Jungkook. He leaves for only a moment, returning from the kitchen, scissors and marker in hand. 

You reach for the empty, custom ornament. It’s a camera, and where the lens would be is a spot for a picture. Cutting the polaroid to fit, you slide it in, and write solstice followed by the year on the back of the ornament.  You put it in the middle of the tree, letting the baubles frame it.

You don’t see Jungkook watching you do all of this, a look in his eye that would melt you if you saw. 

“And now for the magic,” you say, turning on the built-in lights. The tree twinkles as the little LEDs reflect off baubles, like stars on a clear night winking at one another.

You're too busy looking at the tree when you hear a click. Following the sound you see Jungkook, polaroid camera in hand, lens facing you. The image pops out and he grabs it, placing it on the coffee table beside the tree.

“Aren't you supposed to shake it?” you ask.

He looks purely serene as he responds. “Nah, polaroids have chemicals and dyes layered in them, so if you shake them you can get microbubbles or marks on them.”

You didn’t know that, but it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest that he does. His talent for photography, a result of years of study and practice. 

“Oh, good to know,” you say as you take the camera from him, and direct him to look at the tree. You snap a picture to match your own, placing it on the table beside the one he took. 

He stays sat there, staring at the tree for a while, the occasional flit towards you before the tree once again.

“It’s perfect,” Jungkook says, breaking the comfortable silence. He clears his throat before adding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You don’t know what else to say besides that, but you can see the happiness in his eyes. Their glow. Their warmth. 

You don’t think you need to say more. 

He knows. 

Time is quickly passing, and you have five recipes to get through today. So as much as you find yourself not wanting to move, perfectly happy sitting here with him for the rest of the day in this beautiful silence, you can’t. The tree is only the beginning of your day together.

“Cookie time?” you ask. 

Jungkook looks to you and takes a deep breath, as if he was also content to stay where you were for the day.

Just you, him and the tree.

“Cookie time.”

“You bitch!” you say as flour flies from his hand to your cheek. 

You were three and a half recipes in, having made two easier recipes first to ease him into a more difficult one. Shortbread, maejakgwa, and gingerbread now sit around in tupperware and cooling sheets around the apartment. 

But because of that, Jungkook is slowly losing all seriousness as you retrieve the sugar cookie dough from his fridge. It was actually the first thing you’d made, knowing it had to chill for a while beforehand, hence the three and a half. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, all knowing smirk plastered on his face like a neon billboard. 

You refuse to sink to his childish levels, and remove the beautifully chilled dough from its refrigerator bowl. Wiping your face with a cloth to clean yourself of the flour, you order him over.

“Come use all your unnecessary muscles to roll this out, quarter inch thick,” holding out the rolling pin to him. The smirk lessons only slightly, but he does as told. 

“All my muscles are unnecessary, huh?” he says after a minute of rolling. You’re by the sink washing some dishes as he does and you can all but physically see the egging in his voice. 

“Yes.”

“And why’s that?” He asks as he finishes rolling out the dough and begins on his cookie cutter decisions. You’ve learned he’s particular about which one’s he wants to use for which type of cookie. 

“Because you have like a million eight foot tall, 450 pound security guards following your every move at all times,” you say, as if this was obvious. In reality, it was a solid team of six guards who were at their tallest 6 '4, and maybe 285 at their heaviest. 

Admittedly, they were all really nice guys, having met them numerous times over the months. And you were planning on stealing some of the cookies from today to give them little solstice bags. 

Jungkook’s never going to be able to eat them all by himself  anyway…you think. And even if he could, he really shouldn’t.

“So, because I have security guards,” he looks at you unbelievingly, “my muscles are unnecessary?” 

“Yes. Why have them if you don’t need them?” At this point you’re just teasing him.

“Lots of reasons,” and he starts listing as you continue to clean. “They look nice, but that's obvious.”

“I’m sure your groupies don’t mind that at all,” you sneak in under your breath, referring to his enormous, and rather lewd mouthed female following on social media. 

“Hey, you leave my groupies out of this, they’re nice people,” he says, pointing a white powdered finger. You scoff and go back to the dishes mumbling something about how they feed his ego. 

“There’s also the fact that I like being strong. I like that I don’t get winded from jogging up the stairs, and I like that I have the ability to help damsels who show up at my place with their arms full of far too many heavy bags.”

You shoot him a glare and he laughs. “You can’t say I’m wrong.”

You also don’t have to acknowledge that comment.

He takes it as a win in your ever ongoing battle of wits. And just to try and even out the playing field a little more, as you are currently winning by a landslide, he adds on a little more to his answer, hopefully one you’re not expecting, and therefore winning by shock factor.

“There’s other reasons too, but those are a lot less PG, to say the least.”

He—

Your hands pause their ministrations for mere seconds before continuing.

How did he say it so…casually!?

Like he didn’t essentially just tell you he likes being strong for bedroom purposes. A topic you’ve never been anywhere near speaking to him about, and he just… brings it up like that? So cryptically as if he wants you to ask for clarification. 

And you do want clarification, damn him!

You hate that it makes you curious. Hate. It.

You like knowing things, not to be nosey, but because you like the mental safety it brings. When you and Nel first started having sex you did a deep dive on everything you could, to make sure nothing was a surprise and that you didn’t hurt yourself or him if you tried anything new. 

Little did you know half of the research was for nothing. Nel has never been the most sexually adventurous person, whereas you wanted to try out new things, explore, see what you like via trial and error, he was fine with good ole missionary and a handful of other basic positions. 

What you two do now works though. And that’s what counts. Compromise. Overcome. Enjoy and respect each other's boundaries. 

But it makes you wonder if Jungkook knows anything you don’t. 

That reason alone is apparently enough for you to hear, “Like what?” leave your lips before you can stop it. And you internally freak.

What the fuck! You did not just ask him that. 

That did not just come out of your mouth.

You did not jus-

“You really wanna know?” he asks, eyeing you over his shoulder with a single quirked brow, like he can’t believe you said it either, but he’ll dish you if you want him too. 

How interesting. You don’t remember gaining this level of trust from him, to be honest about something so personal. So private. 

You wonder when that happened. 

No, you say in your mind. But your head is gingerly nodding yes. 

Stop that! You think to your body, betraying you once again.

Jungkook hums before picking up a cutter, a simple circle. 

“Well,” he punctuates the word with a cutter punch. “Uhh…there’s a certain level of—” a punch, “—power dynamic I prefer having, and they definitely help with that,” another cutter punch. “I also like being able to lift my partner with relative ease, or carry them if need be. Legs around my hips is a personal favourite.”

Your dishwashing slows as he continues, unable to stop the images that flood your mind thanks to your visual thinking. 

Stupid art brain.

A small pool of heat starts to form low in your stomach. Stupid art brain.

After some more circular cutter punches, you think he’s finished and you’re relieved, but then he switches to a spikier one and continues. 

“I’ve also learned that finger strength seems to be a fan favourite,” he jokes and you gulp, forcing that thought out of your head as soon as it enters like a slingshot.  “And most of my previous partners seemed to enjoy the fact that I could, uhm…well, that I could hold them in place while I did… that is…whatever I wanted to them.” 

You ignore the wetness in forming your underwear. This conversation, regardless of who it was with, was not helping you and your complete and utter lack of sex. 

Another enormous downside to long distance, your libido and its easily excitable nature due to lack of use. Maybe an appointment with your vibrator is due soon, if you’re this affected by these attempts at sterile descriptions of sexual-like encounters. He isn’t even saying anything expressly dirty. He’s trying to be as respectful and informative in his answers as he can.

Plus, you did this to yourself. 

“But if I had to pick, I think there’s a tie for my favourite part about having unnecessary muscles for non PG purposes,” he says, and looks at you with another quirked brow, seeing if he’s allowed to proceed.

You’ve entirely stopped washing the dishes. Too focused on not focusing on the growing need blooming inside you. 

Oh yes, you’re penciling it in right now: Vibrator appointment. Tonight. 10:30pm. 

Sharp.

Time to accept the consequences of your actions.

“Consider it a potential learning opportunity. Academically speaking, of course,” you say, as a way to make this educational. That’s all this is anyway right? To see if he knows anything you don’t. 

Right?

Right.

“If you say so Picasso.” He tears the leftover dough from the neatly cut cookies, and starts laying them on a baking pan. “First, I like that I’m strong enough to flip my partner over whether they’re, uhm...” he struggles for an ‘academic’ sounding word, but settles for, “restrained, or not.”

Heat. Everywhere. There's heat everywhere and you immediately go back to the dishes, changing the flowing water to ice cold and ignoring the throbbing of your core. You’re pretty sure if you slipped your hands down your pants right now, they’d be just as wet as they are cleaning the mixing bowls. 

Maybe you should reschedule to 10. Or even 9:30. Hell, why not 9 while you’re thinking about it.

“Secondly, I like the muscles because they help me make great use of walls.”

You nearly drop the bowl in the sink, not having nearly enough time to recover before he’s looking at you again, sugar cookie filled baking pan in hand.

“You ever done something like that?” he asks, sly smirk visible. He’s trying to make light of the situation, make it a joke for the sake of comfortability.

He’s spilling ‘all’ his secrets, why shouldn’t you spill one.

The oven dings, signaling the preheating is complete and it’s ready for use. He comes closer to you, only because the oven is opposite the sink, puts them in and sets the oven’s timer for 12 minutes. Turning back around, he’s not two feet from you.

You force your voice to be as smooth and cool as possible as you face him, your own smirk plastered. 

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

Yes, yes he would.

“Call your goons in, I have their bags ready.”

“They’re not my goons,” Jungkook says, texting Shen, head of his security detail. “They’re my guards.”

You’re both finishing up cleaning the kitchen, all of the ingredients are put away, the dishes are cleaned, and Jungkook is washing down the counterspace as you write the names of everyone on the little bags filled with the results of your combined labours.

The coffee table is covered in little polaroids from today, all still resting from when they developed. Half of them have some form of baking related mess on them, be it some flour or a small lump of dough. 

You look at one he took after throwing more flour on you, your nose is scrunched and it looks like half your face is white with the stuff. It’s cute. There’s another beside it, Jungkook is pretending to lick raw batter from the whisk, eyes wide, tongue outstretched. It’s chaotic.

They’re perfect.

Shen, Dae-Seong, Asa, Rowan, Micah and Hikari are Jungkook’s security detail. They all have shared apartments in the same building. Never too far away. Shen and Asa are stationed on his floor, Mikah and Rowan are on the floor below and Dae-Seong and Hikari are on the one above. 

“Guards, goons, same difference,” you say, but you hear knocking not seconds later, no doubt Shen and Asa. 

You go and open the door, welcoming them in.

“Hey Y/N,” Asa says, scooping you up for a hug, your feet dangling. Asa’s one of the guards who’s super tall, and he’s always been very affectionate towards you. Come to think of it, a lot of them are. 

“Hey Asa, how’s Natalie?” you chuckle, hugging him back lightly. Natalie is his wife, who's still back in the capital.

“She’s good, excited to have me home soon.”

“No doubt, say hi for me.”

“Yeah, will do.”

He sets you down just in time for another knock. 

Rowan, Micah, Hikari and Dae-Seong all make their way in too, giving high fives, light hugs or happy greetings to you as they do. Soon, you’re being towered over by men, feeling very small, but never scared as they are always so lovely to you.

You suspect you’re quickly becoming their favourite. 

Jungkook they’re used to seeing, they’ve known him for years, protected him for years. They give him shit, a nod or grab him by the neck with their arms as they play wrestle to greet him. No hugs or high fives to be seen with him, only laughter. Mostly at Jungkook. 

When they’re around, Jungkook is the most at ease you’ve ever seen him at. 

“So what’s up?” Shen asks. He’s the least affectionate out of everyone, stoic even, but that doesn’t surprise you. He’s responsible for the safety of the future monarch, that’s a stressful job.

You look to Jungkook, who’s now sitting on the couch. He signals with a hand that this is all you.

“I don’t know if you all celebrate, but just in case you do, Jungkook and I spent the day baking,” Rowan snorts at that, and you ignore it, motioning for them to follow you to the kitchen. The island carrying their individually labeled goody bags comes into their view.

“And this is just a little thank you for all you do from the jackass in the other room,” you point with a thumb to the wall the couch is on the other side of. The men snicker. 

“I heard that,” Jungkook calls.

“You were supposed to,” you call back, then to the group once more, “and it’s also a Happy Solstice from me.”

Rowan and Asa are still laughing at your less than kind words about their charge as you begin to hand them their bags. Each one says thank you as you do, and Asa gives you another hug. He may be 6’4 and god knows how many pounds, but really, he was just a big teddy bear—a lethal one— but cuddly nonetheless.

“We’ve got a decent selection, but feel free to trade,” you say, giving Shen his bag last. He has a thing with going last, you have no idea why, but you respect it. You whisper to him that he has an extra of each cookie, and not to tell the others, including Jungkook. He gives you the absolute smallest of small smiles, followed by a hushed ‘thank you.’

It’s the most tender you’ve ever seen him.

Micah pipes up. “What’s this one?” he asks, holding up a cookie.

“So, we’ve got gingerbread, maejakgwa, sugar cookies, shortbread and that, my dearest Micah,” the mountain of a man blushes at that, and you laugh, “is a yakgwa cookie. Think chewy honey and ginger.”

He pops it into his mouth instantly and you swear if he could, he’d melt into a puddle. 

“There’s no way King Pain in the Ass over there made these, they’re way too good,” Hikari says, on his third one. He seems to be trying one of each, seeing which he likes. So far? Apparently it’s all of them.

“Cross my heart,” you say, “it was a gallant team effort.”

“Thanks kid,” he calls to the prince, currently entering the room to see his guards happier than he has in a very long time. He will never admit it out loud, for fear of endless mocking, but the sight warms his heart.

Dae-Seong comes up to you, and very politely asks, “Could I get the recipe you used for the maejakgwa? My wife would love these.”

“Of course, Dae-Seong,” you place a kind hand on his forearm. “Give Minji my best will you?”

The man nods, grateful. 

All the recipes today were from your memory, so you get your phone, and start typing it out. 

You have him text it to himself from your phone when you’re finished, and use that as your que to grab the camera.

“Everyone,” you call out, and immediately seven pairs of eyes, with seven full mouths beneath them, are looking at you. Jungkook’s eating some from his own stash, or so you hope. “Crowd your favourite royal on the couch please, it’s picture time.” You shake the camera gently in your hand.

“My favourite royal’s back at the pala–” Hikari tries, but a punch to the shoulder from Jungkook has him laughing in favour of completing the sentence. 

You love the relationship he has with them. Like brothers.

Quickly, Jungkook is squished between the six men, one on either side and four on the floor in front of him. They tried to fit more on the couch but they're all so big that they couldn’t.

“Everyone needs to smile, and if they don't, I'm taking more until they do,” you say pointedly, eyeing up Shen. He only nods that he understands.

“Say Solstice!”

A chorus of deep voiced ‘solstice's' ring your eyes as you look through the eyepiece and snap the picture. It prints out and you leave it with all the others on the coffee table. You see that everyone is smiling in the picture as it develops. 

Perfect. Everything about today has been perfect.

After a few more minutes of chatting, the guards have to get back to their posts, and you’re at the door, wishing everyone a happy break as they leave. 

Shen, as usual, hangs back, wanting to be the last to leave. He’s standing beside Jungkook, both watching you as you bid the others farewell. 

“I like her,” Shen says to Jungkook quietly. 

“Me too,” Jungkook says back. 

Shen can see the prince means that in more than one way.

“Keep her around.”

“I'm trying my best to.”

It’s nearing 7:30, you’re both full after ordering dinner in, not wanting to be anywhere near a kitchen until next week, and working on assignments. Jungkook’s editing some photos, and you’re writing part of an essay from your phone, having completely forgotten to bring your computer in all the excitement. 

“Hey,” you say, sitting in your spot on the couch. You nudge him with a socked foot, he has headphones on so he can focus.

He doesn’t look to you, but removes a headphone. “Yeah?”

You lock your phone, brain mush for the night. “Can we move movie night to tonight? I have an exam at 8am on Monday and I want to use tomorrow to study.”

You’ve been thinking about it for a while, deciding that today would let you know if you needed to make the switch or not. And given that you’ve spent the day on your feet and partially socializing, you doubt you’ll be able to focus for the rest of the night, exhausted. But the good kind of exhausted.

You’ve been taking better care of yourself since that day with Jungkook. Not drastically, but you’re starting to listen to your body’s signals a little more, and right now it’s telling you you need TV and sleep. 

Appointment be damned. You’ll reschedule.

Jungkook hits the space bar and removes his headphones before closing the computer. 

“Yeah, of course. But–” he cuts himself off, looking at the tree in front of him. The lights are low in the apartment and it’s dark out, so the tree shines, glowing from within. The picture of you two still sits in the middle, and the now multiple stacks of polaroids sit around its base like presents. 

“But?”

“But that means I won’t see you after today. I only have two exams left, Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning, then I’m back at the palace.”

Oh. 

Right.

“We don’t have to, I can just study earlier in the d-”

“No! No, it’s okay. It just…it changes a few things,” he bites his lip as he thinks, and places his computer on the coffee table. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes Picasso, please?”

You’re very confused but comply, closing your eyes and waiting. You hear him get up and then him walking, then a door opens. There’s some rummaging before the door closes and his footsteps near again.

The couch dips right beside you.

“Hold out your hands.”

You hold them both out, palms up, and something bumpy and cylindrical is placed in them. 

“Okay, open.”

In your hands is a leather rolling brush case, held shut by not only matching leather strings, but a red ribbon and bow. 

“Oh,” you didn’t know you were doing gifts. “Jungkook. It’s—it’s beautiful.”

“Open it.”

You untie the ribbon, setting it to the side as you also untie the leather strings, and unroll. The case is filled with brushes from Olliveri and Schultz, the best brush makers in the realm. And a small, very surprised gasp escapes you. 

You’ve never once owned any of their products. Their brushes go for $50 at the lowest, for the smallest of brushes.  

Exquisite craftsmanship goes into each and every brush, hand carved wooden handles, the best bristles you can buy, and rust resistant ferrule. You’ve always dreamed of having one of their brushes, and now here you are, with a whole set.

They’re the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Jungkook I—I don’t know what to say. I couldn’t possibly acce-”

“Yes you can. You can and you will. Please. I even made sure they put in an extra fan brush cuz it’s your favourite.” 

You notice the two brushes on the end, identical. 

He remembered. 

A lump is forming in your throat, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“I haven’t—I don’t—,” you take a breath, “I didn’t get you a gift, though.”

“Today was gift enough,” he says, and you can see in his eyes he means every word. “I haven't had a solstice like this in…a really long time, and the memories from today are enough, more than enough. I promise.”

You don’t know what to say, you haven’t been at this much of a loss for words since…ever. You can only think of one thing to convey how thankful you are.

Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you squeeze, his arms immediately around your waist. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, “I love them.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath too, savouring this moment for as long as he can. The feel of your arms around him, squeezing. The soft curve of your body up against his. His hands on your waist, you’re warmth under his touch, or maybe that was him, he can’t tell. And he doesn’t care. 

 It’s the first time you’ve ever initiated physical contact that was more than a nudge or playful shove. 

“You’re welcome, YN. Happy Solstice.” 

Chapter Ten: TBR

A/N 2: Fun fact! The tree and tin foil star are based on what I do irl. I have a dollarstore tree with little baubles and lights, but I made the star from a cereal box and tin foil because there weren't any toppers when I bought it.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[myboybreakscoffins]

Who's The Real Winner?

valentine, february 14, @black-brothers-microfic — regulus & sirius black microfic — sibling rivalry, unrequited love (for now), mentions of jily, regulus’ pov — word count: 573

“How’s this year’s count going, Reggie?”

Regulus barely had time to step through the threshold behind the fruit bowl painting before his brother’s voice reached him. His social avoidance tactics were utterly useless when it came to Sirius—his brother always seemed to know exactly where to find him. If he didn’t trust his own spell detection skills so completely, he might have suspected Sirius of putting a tracking spell on him.

Rolling his eyes, Regulus kept walking toward the dungeons, making it clear he had no interest in indulging his brother’s nonsense. “Are we really doing this every Valentine’s Day?” he asked as soon as Sirius caught up, determined to get the conversation over with.

Regulus hated this day—especially when it meant being subjected to the sickeningly sweet public displays of affection from a certain new couple that he absolutely did not want to see. Ever. 

“Until it’s officially proven that I’m the more attractive brother,” Sirius replied, casually running a hand through his long black hair. “Or until one of us gets an actual valentine,” he added in a quieter voice. Then, with a smug grin, he continued, “Anyway, I got seven—three love letters, a rather vocal and terrifying confession right outside the greenhouse, and chocolate.” His voice practically dripped with satisfaction.

Oh, poor Sirius… 

Regulus smirked and, with deliberate ease, said, “Nine, dear brother—who is, regrettably, less attractive than me.”

Sirius’s reaction was, by far, the best poem Regulus had received that day. He allowed himself a moment to relish the obvious shock and embarrassment on his brother’s face, feeling immensely pleased with himself. Definitely, one of the great joys of having a sibling was being able to humiliate them at their own game.

The conceited Narcissus, drowned by his own reflection. Poetic.

“Well,” Sirius shot back, clearly unwilling to accept defeat, “at least I got chocolate from someone I actually like. And that’s worth three or four, so technically, I’m still ahead.”

Regulus froze mid-step.

Son of a fucking bitch.

Of course, his brother wouldn’t go down without a fight—and of course, he wouldn’t hesitate to go for the low blow if it gave him the slightest advantage. For someone who supposedly despised his family, that was very Black of him, really.

Sirius was well aware of his unrequited crush on James ‘Lily Evans’ Perfect Boyfriend’ Potter and it was an unspoken rule that neither of them would ever bring it up under any circumstances. 

And yet, here they were.

But fine, if Sirius wanted to play dirty, so be it.

Regulus arched a brow and said smoothly, “Are you sure the chocolate Lupin gave you wasn’t just out of courtesy?” He injected all the venom he could into the last word.

“IT WASN’T JUST COURTESY—” Sirius started, then abruptly cut himself off, realizing exactly what he’d just admitted.

Regulus nearly laughed, he didn't even have to make an effort.

With a slow, satisfied smile, he said, “If you say so… Though, for the record, Lupin also gave me chocolate this year—same as last.”

“REMUS DID WHAT?!” Sirius practically shrieked.

His idiot brother had just handed him victory on a silver platter. 

Regulus resumed his path toward the dungeons, smirking to himself.

“AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘SAME AS LAST YEAR’, REGULUS?”

“Exactly what I said, Sirius.” And, just to twist the knife a little deeper, he added over his shoulder, “It’s my win.” 

Sirius was left behind, completely bewildered.

[thoughtfulfiction]

Friend zone? End zone.

Author’s note: Anon requested🧡

July

Packing everything up and moving to France with no idea where you'd live or how you were going to make money, to study under some of the most well known pastry giants in the world was...crazy. But somehow, opening up your own bake shop in Cincinnati felt even more like you were losing the last hold on your sanity. You didn't know anyone here, no friends or family nearby, but Velvet Clementine was your dream. And today, the dream smelled like vanilla, caramelized sugar, and the bright zest of fresh clementines, located in the middle of the Queen City. You had your own staff, granted it was four people but still, you were the owner, the boss, of your very own place.

Cincinnati had been your home for six weeks when the bell chimed, and two men—tall enough to make your display case look like a dollhouse—ducked into the shop. They moved with effortless confidence, their voices a low rumble of laughter as they scanned the display case with the focus of someone choosing their last meal. You watched them pile on various pastries, looking through the rows of mini pain au chocolat, almond croissants and pastel de nata. The mini fruit tarts featuring clementines and red velvet cakes were the items that made you fall in love with baking, hence the name of the place. The shorter man reached for a tart, its glossy colorful slices glistening under the bakery lights, nestled in a bed of creamy white chocolate mousse. You watched as the other one picked up a croissant, giving it a slight squeeze—a soft crackle of delicate layers breaking beneath his fingers. They seemed satisfied with their various selections, happily walking over to the register, the tall one flashing his almost sinfully perfect smile as he paid for everything. You thanked them for coming in and sent them on their way.

"You can't be serious, how did you not say anything?" Your sous chef Quinn let out a breath she had probably been holding since the two guys walked through the door.

"What are you talking about?"

She scoffed, remembering the fact that you’d lived in Europe the last few years so their presence didn’t hold much weight. She tossed a dish towel over her shoulder as she turned to face you, “they’re Bengals, babe. Like, literal football gods. Also, it helps that they’re stupidly attractive."

You hummed, processing everything she just threw at you. "Well, that part I did notice. And they’re freakishly...big. Good thing we made extras of everything, because I think they just wiped out half the front shelf."

Quinn laughed, stepping around you to check for herself. "I have a shelf they can—sorry."

"Okay easy tiger,” you let out a laugh, “they're gone. Are we still on for drinks tonight?"

"Oh absolutely, I definitely need a martini or three after seeing the best receiving duo in the game, in person. My boyfriend is actually going to lose his mind when I tell him."

You shake your head with a smile on your face, walking back to the kitchen to restock, the scent of butter and cocoa bean filling the air as you slip behind the counter to arrange the freshly baked tarts.

Much to your surprise, they were back three days later. The door sounded again, and the tall one walked up to you, his broad shoulders barely fitting in the doorway. "I'm Tee."

"Hi Tee," you smile, surprised. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon. Or your friend over there." Tee turns around to find Ja'Marr loading up on cheesecakes this time, not paying attention to anything else. The sight of him, mouth half-full of a pastry, causes you to chuckle.

"I didn't either but...damn. You the owner?"

You nod, hesitant but flattered.

"Excuse my language, but yo, this shit fire—like man. We had to come get some more. Everything’s made fresh, from... scratch?"

"Yeah, every morning I get here at like 5:30 and we bake everything. From scratch."

Ja'marr appears next to him, holding a mini crème brulee. "You are VERY good at your job. You'll be seeing a lot of us now that we're back for the season. Swear you weren't here when I left Cincy, how long you been here?"

"Stop, it's not that great.” You wave him off as he continues to nod profusely, holding up his latest find with wild eyes as you laugh again. “And I've been here a little over a month, just moved to Cincinnati actually."

"From?" Ja'Marr pipes up, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"France, lived there for a few years to perfect my pastry skills and really focus on my craft."

"That's crazy, I just got back from Paris for Fashion Week. The food was amazing and looks like the classes worked cause you definitely know what you're doing."

"Thank you guys. And spread the word will you? I heard you two are kind of a big deal around here."

"Something like that, we appreciate you for these," Tee flashes a wide grin, holding up the bag as he thanks you one more time, "you'll see us back here soon."

The next day they returned the favor and since you'd been feeding them, they wanted to take you to a special spot downtown to really introduce you to the city. Of course you brought Quinn with you. Her boyfriend didn't believe this was actually happening until he Facetimed her and saw the guys for himself. It was nice to finally feel like you'd met people you got along with without having to try to be anyone but yourself. Over the next few weeks while exploring the Cincinnati food scene, you found out that Tee and Ja'marr were funny, sweet and kind, just two guys enjoying the last few weeks of the offseason before training camp ramped up. Both of them were in the midst of contract negotiations, having to explain to you the ins and outs of NFL life. They appreciated that you didn't care about their status and never asked unless they started the conversation and you loved having people around that made this city feel so much less like a foreign country.

Ja'Marr strolled in one morning with a grin, practically bouncing on his feet as he leaned across the counter. "Hey, so listen...you gotta make those mini cakes for my housewarming on Saturday. I mean, you have to be there, since we’re your best friends now and all. It’s only right."

Quinn, who had been wiping down the counter, stopped mid-motion and squinted at him. "Excuse me? So now I’m invisible? You’re just gonna act like I wasn’t the one keeping her entertained before you waltzed in with your designer sweatpants and phenomenal taste in bakeries? Some people." She shakes her head in mock disbelief.

Ja'Marr smirked, completely unbothered. "Anyway, Imma ignore that. Jealous isn't a good look on you Quinn." He quickly turns his attention back to you, "so...you'll be there Saturday right? I'll text you the address."

"Yes, I'll be there."

"And so will I, since we wanna exclude people from the conversation." Quinn adds in from behind you.

Ja'Marr, clearly pleased with his victory, flashed a grin as he turned to leave. "Speaking in third person? You know what I'll just see y'all Saturday." Before heading out, he shot you one more look over his shoulder. "Don’t forget, mini cakes."

As he walked out, Quinn glanced at you, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Looks like you’ve got some serious new friends now, huh?"

"We," you correct her, "we have some serious friends new friends now."

As a business owner, you prided yourself in being a professional. Even at your friend's party, you wanted to be more than on time and make the cakes look as pretty as possible. Quinn had joined you in the last-minute preparations, both of you arriving an hour before the gathering started to get things in order. The large living room was already buzzing—caterers setting up a lavish buffet, trays full of appetizers being placed on side tables. Some of Ja'Marr’s friends, who you assumed were visiting from Louisiana, lounged in the corner, their laughs echoing over the low hum of video game sound effects.

You and Quinn worked in tandem, setting the delicate mini cakes on a table near the center, the soft scent of the various flavors filled the room as you arranged the treats just so. You hadn’t even noticed Ja'Marr and Tee walking towards you until Ja'Marr's voice cut through the conversation.

"You brought my favorite ones, that’s so sweet. I am gonna tear. These. Up." His grin was wide as he took in the display of your pastries while wiggling his fingers.

"Be classy, please," you teased, glancing at him, "we don’t want your neighbors thinking a wild animal moved in next door."

"Nah, it’s cool," Ja'Marr shrugged nonchalantly, glancing down to check his phone. "I think one of the neighbors just got here."

The door clicked open, and in walked a tall figure. Your breath caught slightly in your chest as your gaze followed the man’s movement. His striking blue eyes swept across the room, a faraway intensity to his expression that made it seem like he was seeing more than just the people around him. There was a quiet confidence to his posture, the kind of calm authority that made him impossible to miss. His light brown hair, a little tousled in that effortless, perfect way, gave him the air of someone who had just stepped out of a high-end catalog.

"Burrow!" Ja'Marr exclaimed, his voice shifting into an easy familiarity. "Damn...I’m really surprised you here. Didn’t think you were leaving the house for a year after your little world tour."

"We went to the same country," Joe replied, his voice steady and slightly dry. "And it was just one." He gave Ja'Marr a side hug, but the moment was strange—a quick pinky shake that made you tilt your head, wondering what it meant. Something about it felt oddly intimate.

Ja’Marr turned his attention to you. "You remember that bakery we been tellin' you about? This is Y/N, the owner. We kinda best friends now so you need to get used to seeing her around. And that's Quinn, they're a package deal."

"Nice to meet you both." Joe’s voice was smooth, but there was a slight tension in the air as he extended his hand.

You reached for it, but Quinn—who had been standing beside you—was frozen. Her eyes were wide, staring at Joe like he was some kind of myth brought to life. The words she'd been about to say caught in her throat, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to process the moment. The seconds stretched on, but she didn't seem able to move, her usual confidence wiped away by her starstruck shock.

You nudged her lightly with your elbow, snapping her back to reality. She blinked, her expression changing in an instant. “Sorry,” she said quickly, her voice higher-pitched than usual as she shook Joe’s hand. “It’s just—um—I'm, like, a huge fan. My boyfriend, too. He’s gonna lose his shit when I tell him I met Joe Burrow.”

Joe’s eyebrow raised slightly, a small, amused smile pulling at his lips as he noticed her flustered reaction. He let out a soft chuckle. "Well, nice to meet you, Quinn."

You laughed softly, shaking your head at Quinn, trying to play it off while feeling your own pulse steadily increasing. Quinn, still flushed from her sudden nervousness, was no longer frozen but her eyes were still glued to Joe, unable to hide the awe on her face.

"Okay, now that we've got that out of the way," Ja'Marr said, clearly enjoying the shift in energy. "I know you don't play about your diet but when I tell you these cakes are the best thing I've ever put in my body? I'm being serious."

Before you can roll your eyes or downplay it, the homeowner stops you. "Don't even think about it, I don't wanna hear none of that. We just need to get him to try one."

Joe grabs one with a Biscoff cookie on top and takes a bite, completely unfazed by the fact that everyone is watching. "Wow, this is. This is incredible. I get why they won't shut up about your place. This is really good."

"Thank you," you laugh softly, trying to push down the weird sense of nervousness pooling in your chest. "And thanks for breaking your strict diet to try it, that means a lot."

He nods and more people start to show up so Ja'Marr leaves to greet them and Tee grabs a few tiny cakes for himself, Quinn asking him if he wants a plate. Everyone moved on from the previous conversation but as you made eye contact with Joe, something unexpected happened—a flicker of recognition, of something unspoken, passing between the two of you. His gaze held yours for just a heartbeat longer than usual, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room had melted away. Although you didn’t really want to, you ignored that feeling and focused on enjoying the night.

You and Quinn moved around the party, getting to know different groups of people, mingling with different players on the team, their significant others and she had to explain to you who all these people were. Of course you'd heard the names before, the buzz around the city the closer the players got to training camp and to the season actually starting. But if years in Europe had taught you anything, it was that sports fans are obsessively dedicated and somehow now you had also become an honorary Bengals fan because of Ja'Marr and Tee. And you couldn't wait to cheer them on. But right now? You couldn't wait to be home and in bed.

The exhaustion of the being up since 4:30 in the morning was continuously creeping up on you. The noise and the laughter mixing with the smells of rich food and the clinking of glasses was all becoming a bit too much after a long week of work. Your mind was constantly racing, your body tired and your spirit longed for some peace and quiet.

You slipped outside into the cool evening air, the chill of the night sky a welcome relief from the heat of the crowded room you'd successfully slipped out of. The city buzzed faintly in the distance, but it felt like a different world out here, away from the chatter and the constant movement.

You leaned against the porch railing, closing your eyes for a moment to just breathe.

The door clicked open behind you, and for some reason you knew exactly who it was. His presence was unmistakable.

“Didn’t expect you to be out here,” Joe’s voice was low, a little gruff but soft in the quiet of the night.

You didn’t answer right away, too focused on the quiet of the moment to form any words. You’d seen Joe around the party—he’d been laughing and chatting, looking perfectly at ease, but now he seemed... different. There was something in the way he stood, in the way he gazed at the horizon, that told you his social battery had run out just like yours had.

“You all good?” Joe asked after a beat, his voice a little more concerned than you expected.

You nodded, finally turning to face him. “Yeah. Just needed a minute. It’s...a lot, sometimes, you know? New city, new life, always on the go.”

Joe looked at you for a long moment, as though weighing something in his mind. “I get it,” he said quietly. “I’ve had days where I just need to...step away for a second. Guess we both needed some air, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. Two people who seemed like they could handle anything, both seeking a quiet moment to themselves, at the same time. You glanced at him, noting the way his hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his jaw slightly tense. He wasn’t trying to fill the silence with empty words or forced jokes, and for that, you appreciated it.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just standing there in the cool night air, the sounds of the party muffled behind the door. For the first time, you felt the world slow down a little.

Joe shifted, and you glanced over, catching the faintest flicker of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Tee and Ja’Marr won’t shut up about you. Guess it’s my turn to see what all the hype is about."

You smiled back, the moment stretching on, neither of you in a rush to move. "Hope I don’t disappoint."

Ja'Marr had you over a few nights later to go over some film with you to get you ready for "the most important season of your life." Tee walked into the living room holding an iPad full of notes, including the presumed depth chart for week 1. Joe sat on the opposite couch, a water bottle on the table in front of him. They gave you a rundown on what everybody's role is on the team starting with Joe.

"He's QB1, you know. Heart of the team, he's our leader." The more he talked, the more it sounded like he was reciting wedding vows to his quarterback, who looked like he was bored out of his mind. You glanced over at him, but he didn’t react, just sipped his water and let Ja’Marr ramble on. You had barely spoken to him all day—just small glances here and there without taking it any further.

The same thing happened the next day. And the day after that.

Finally, you spoke up. "You're not a man of many words, are you?"

Joe barely looked up as he responded, "Depends on who it is and what they're asking." His tone was casual, but there was a weight to it, like he didn’t give away words freely. Like almost every human interaction he had was a secret interview prying into his personal life.

"Okay, well, you've attended three sessions of my exclusive Bengals 101 class, and you've barely said a word," you pointed out, shifting on the couch to face him. "But yet, every day, you're here."

"I love football," he said simply, taking another sip of water. Then he set the bottle down, finally looking at you. "And I would hate for the newest football fan of the crew to be confused in the middle of the Jungle."

"Is that what they call it? The Jungle?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at the fact that he may have just cracked a joke.

Joe gave you a half-smirk and nodded. "It gets pretty wild, Y/N," he said, standing up and patting you lightly on the back as he walked past. "You better be ready."

He always kept interactions short, never going out of his way to talk to you in group settings, refusing to join the group chat that Tee had created with you, Ja'Marr, and Quinn. Instead of treating him like an onion who needed to be peeled, you just went with it and tried to lean in and embrace his dry sense of humor.

One night, you plopped down next to him on the couch. "Hey," you said casually, tilting your head to study him. "I was just wondering—do you ever smile? Like, unprompted? Or do you just reserve happy Joe for the comfort of your gigantic house when you're alone watching SpongeBob reruns?"

Joe turned his head slightly, his lips twitching into a smirk before he quickly looked away, trying to hide it.

Too bad for him—you caught every second of it.

A few hours later, as you cleaned up after another “film session”, you caught Joe watching you from across the room. Not in an obvious way—more like he was trying to figure something out, like you were a broken play he was seeing on his tablet.

He left without saying much, as always. You figured he preferred sticking to his usual routine—keeping his world small, guarded and unbelievably predictable.

So, when you saw him on the other side of Quinn's door after days of radio silence holding several bags of food, you almost dropped the bottle of wine in your hand.

"You know, you probably shouldn't have tipped that delivery guy. He just handed me these bags when I told him I was coming up here. I could've just been some horrible person stealing a perfectly good breakup recovery meal."

"I think because you're...you know—you? He probably would've handed you anything. I’m surprised he didn't ask for a selfie."

“Oh, he did,” Joe deadpanned, shifting the bags in his arms. “I signed the receipt instead. How's Quinn?"

"Honestly? She said she saw it coming, but it still sucks. You can come in."

Before long, everyone had found a spot, the coffee table now covered in takeout containers, the aroma of fried rice and lo-mein filling the air. The soft glow of the TV flickered across the dimly lit living room as Quinn sat curled up in the corner of the couch, picking at her food while Tee animatedly recounted his worst breakup story.

“At least your ex didn’t break up with you via emoji,” Tee said, waving his fork.

Ja’Marr nearly choked on his drink. “You lyin’.”

“Bro, she deadass sent me a salute emoji and just—gone.”

Quinn let out a weak laugh, shaking her head. “Okay, that’s tragic.”

“Exactly. So if I survived that, you’ll survive this.” Tee nudged her with his elbow.

The weight in the room had started to ease, the heaviness of Quinn’s breakup quickly turned into a lighter and softer energy. You sat on the couch sharing a blanket with her, almost having to force yourself into finishing your food because it was unfortunately your first real meal of the day. Joe sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, his knee brushing against yours every time one of you shifted. You told yourself it was nothing.

Every once in a while, your eyes met—quick glances during a particularly funny scene, a knowing look when Ja’Marr started yelling at the TV. He was more relaxed tonight, his usual quiet guardedness giving way to something looser, something easy.

For the first time since moving to Cincinnati, you felt it. That feeling of belonging. Of finding your people.

Quinn let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning her head against your shoulder. “I guess I’ll survive.”

“You definitely will,” you reassured her, placing your hand on hers, giving it a squeeze.

Joe shifted beside you, his voice low. “You picked a hell of a crew to stick with.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze, something unreadable in his expression.

“Could be worse,” you teased, nudging his leg slightly.

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. For a second, it seemed like he might say something else—but instead, he just reached for an egg roll.

After that night, things started to shift more toward football. The usual late-night hangs became less frequent, the group chat more active with reminders about packing lists and schedules. Training camp was looming, and you could feel the weight of it, even though you weren’t the one suiting up.

One night at Ja’Marr’s, Tee stretched out on the couch, scrolling through his phone. "This is our last free weekend before camp. Y’all better soak it in.”

Quinn groaned. “Ugh. That means my social life is about to take a massive hit.”

Ja’Marr snorted. “Don’t act like we don’t have days off. We just gon be tired as hell.”

Joe wasn’t there that night—he’d taken off for a few days on his annual lake trip, something about needing to “reset.” Not that you were keeping tabs on his whereabouts or anything, but the house felt quieter without him.

Then, two nights before camp started, he walked into Ja’Marr’s house like nothing was different.

Except, everything was different.

Tee was mid-sentence when he noticed, his words dying in his throat as he squinted at Joe. “Boy, what the hell?”

Ja’Marr turned, eyes widening. "Nah. No way."

You blinked. “Did you—did you shave your head?”

Joe barely reacted, setting his keys down like this was any other day. “Yeah.”

“And bleach it?” Quinn added in, looking intrigued...and a little scared.

“Yep.”

Tee leaned forward, inspecting him like he was some rare species. “You look like a villain in a Fast & Furious movie.”

Joe smirked, rubbing a hand over his buzzed, bleach-blond head. “Perfect.”

Ja’Marr was still in shock. “Bro, what possessed you?”

Joe shrugged, completely unbothered. “Felt like it.”

You tried to stifle a laugh, shaking your head. Of course. The most dramatic change of the offseason, and he acted like it was nothing.

Quinn tilted her head, appraising him. “You know what? I don’t hate it.”

Ja’Marr ran a hand down his face, groaning. “Man, now we gotta deal with this version of Joe all season.”

Joe just grinned, casually grabbing a side salad off the counter like he hadn’t just broken everyone’s brains. Training camp hadn’t even started yet, and he was already causing chaos.

Quinn, Tee, and Ja’Marr burst out laughing, looking at each other with wide grins. "Hold up—do y'all realize what this means?" Tee pointed between them. "We all got buzzcuts now."

Ja’Marr gasped, nodding. "Oh, it’s a sign. We're about to be in sync this season. Chemistry off the charts."

Quinn snorted. "What, like you're the bald-headed Avengers?"

Tee clapped his hands. "Nah, we’re like…an Olympic relay team. Faster, stronger, better communication."

Joe shook his head, amused. "You guys are ridiculous."

"You say that now, but just wait," Ja’Marr said, stroking his chin like he was cooking up a master plan. "I'm over here manifesting greatness."

Joe just rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food, but then he caught your expression. You were dying to say something. "Go ahead, tell me what you really think. I've heard a few. Cody Rhodes, Eminem..."

"I was gonna say a more attractive version of Jonah Hill in the 21 Jump Street flashback scenes."

Tee and Ja’Marr lost it. Ja’Marr literally had to grab the counter for support, and Tee was staggering away, gasping between wheezes. "Bro, I can see it!"

Joe stared at you, lips pressing together like he was physically restraining himself from laughing. "That’s just hurtful."

"You asked." You bit back a grin.

The chaos continued around you, but somehow, it ended up just the two of you standing there as the others got distracted by something else.

You hesitated. You shouldn’t ask. But you did.

"Why did you do it?" You tried to sound casual. "Your hair looked fine—I mean, more than fine—but… why?"

Joe leaned against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. His lips twitched like he was about to say something stupid. Then—

"I want frosted tips."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"And I’ve never seen anyone actually look good when they just go get them, so I’m doing it the natural way."

You just stared at him. "Joe. This is the most insane way to get blond highlights, and you know it."

"Sorry you feel that way," he said, totally unbothered. "But I don’t do things halfway. Go big or go home."

He said it so casually, but the way he was looking at you? That was dangerous. The kind of look that made the room feel a little too warm, made your stomach do an annoying little flip. His icy blue eyes held yours just a second too long—long enough for you to realize that you should run for your life.

Because if you stayed here any longer, you might have to admit that you were developing a teeny, tiny, completely inconvenient crush on Joe Burrow.

August

Having a crush as an adult kind of feels like you're having a heart attack. You could be completely fine one second and then suddenly your entire being was consumed with thoughts of him so vivid it made your chest hurt.

The first preseason game was finally here, giving you the perfect excuse to focus on literally anything else. Your first tailgate was an experience, that morning of the game was by far the busiest day you'd ever experienced. Pre-orders were being picked up left and right, mini pies and cheesecakes were snatched off the shelves before 11am and the only thing that remained by the time all of you left the shop at 2pm was a lone batch of cupcakes that you ended up giving away for free at the stadium. It was easy promo.

Paycor Stadium felt like magic. A chaotic, slightly unhinged kind of magic. Fans were everywhere—some already drunk, all of them decked out in orange, fully prepared to dedicate their mental health to a 53-man roster for the next several months. You just wanted to see your friends do what they loved—well, at least two of them, since Ja’Marr was in the middle of a holdout. Or, technically, a hold-in, since he was still around the building but not practicing. You were still trying to grasp the nuances of contract negotiations, and honestly, you needed a few more Bengals 101 cramming sessions to feel more confident in your abilities to explain the situation, if anyone were to ask.

Time slowed when Joe stepped onto the field. And the stadium erupted when he threw a touchdown to none other than Tee. You swore you saw a couple of fans crying, which was kind of heartwarming but also a little funny, considering they didn’t know him personally.

Joe hadn’t talked much about his wrist injury or the recovery process after surgery, and you never wanted to pry. You figured he’d open up when he was ready. But as you watched him out there, commanding the field like nothing had ever been wrong, you couldn’t help but wonder if it had been as easy as he made it look.

He commanded the field like he commanded every room he entered. You met up with him, Ja'Marr, Tee, Quinn and a bunch of his friends from Athens along with his family to gather at his house, not only because it was the beginning of the season, but it was also a new beginning for him post surgery. The celebration was on, laughter and quiet music filling every corner of the house. You couldn't really hear it, but it had to be from Joe's never ending playlist filled with Gunna and Kid Cudi songs. People drifted in and out of conversations, drinks in hand, taking in the importance of indulging in the calm before the storm of the regular season.

At some point, you found yourself in the kitchen, away from the noise, refilling your drink. You weren’t alone for long.

Joe lingered in the doorway for a second before stepping into the kitchen, leaning against the counter beside you. His presence was quiet but steady, like he was still deciding if he wanted to speak.

For a moment, the two of you stood next to each other silently. You were perfectly happy listening to the muffled sounds of the party happening in the next room. Then, finally, he exhaled, his voice low enough that it almost got lost in the noise.

“I um—I cried last night.”

You turned to him, startled by the sudden confession. His gaze stayed on the counter, fingers idly tracing the grain of the wood.

“There were nights when I thought I wouldn’t make it back here,” he admitted. “Like, really about thought it. More than I ever have before.” He swallowed hard, jaw tightening for a second before he let out a humorless laugh. “I’ve never been afraid of failure. Not really. But this time… it was different.”

You could only imagine what that felt like—to have the thing you built your whole life around suddenly feel uncertain. To sit in the unknown and not be able to do anything but wait.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted softly, shifting so you were fully facing him. “I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like for you.” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “But I do know I’m glad you’re here. That you made it through. And that I get to see you come out on the other side of it.”

Joe finally looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time that night, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease.

Before you could stop yourself, you sighed, "I think about failure all the time."

His brows furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

You glanced down, running your thumb over the rim of your glass. “Every single day at the bakery feels like a risk. Like one wrong move, one slow month, and it all comes crashing down. I try not to let it eat me alive, but it’s always there in the back of my mind.” You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Every day is either a risk or a victory. Some days, it’s both.”

Joe was quiet for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, almost to himself. “I get that.”

And you knew he did. Probably more than anyone else. Maybe that was the thing about him—he understood the weight of expectations, the pressure of something you love being both the best and hardest thing in your life.

The party carried on around you, but the two of you stayed there, in the quiet.

Joe wasn’t sure when it started, but sometime after the day he met you, he’d found himself wanting to be near you. To talk to you. To hear what you had to say.

Now, standing here, watching the way your eyes softened when you spoke, he realized something that both excited and terrified him.

He liked you. He really liked you.

And when you smiled at him—soft, understanding, like you really saw him—something in his chest tightened. He was absolutely fucked. And he knew it.

The day after his ill-timed epiphany, he had to figure out a way to see you, without making it completely obvious that he wanted to see you. So he did the one thing he could think of.

"THE Joe Burrow, gracing my humble bakery with his presence?" You place a hand over your heart in mock surprise. "Did hell actually freeze over? Or did you finally crack under the pressure of living a sugar-free life?"

The quarterback looks around and shrugs, "told my parents about this place and I wanted to grab them something before they head out. What should I get? What's good here?" He laughs and you glare at him.

"Everything," Quinn interrupts before disappearing in the kitchen to go over their fall menu, "you know this."

"Well…surprise me." Joe says, when it's just you again. "You're the professional here. And I trust your opinion."

You pick out a few things, putting them in a box and handing them over to him after he tapped his phone on the tap to pay. His fingers brushed against yours on the box, just for a second. Just long enough for his slightly calloused touch to settle into your skin. He didn’t pull away immediately. Neither did you. And then, just like that, the moment passed.

Joe thanked you, turning on his heel and walking out without another glance. He told himself not to think about it. About the way your hand felt against his. About how his skin still felt warm where you’d touched him.

He spent a considerably long time staring at his palm in the car before shaking his head, gripping the wheel, and driving himself home.

September

The month came with the promise of real football. Instead, it delivered losses. Three straight. By the end of the month, they were 1-4, and the frustration was suffocating.

Losing wasn’t new to Joe—football was a game of highs and lows. But this? This felt different. This felt like clawing for air and only inhaling more water. He’d been playing pretty well but that hadn’t translated to team success so needless to say, he was frustrated.

And when Joe was frustrated, when the weight of the season pressed down on him, he did what he always did: he shut people out.

His routine became even more rigid. Early mornings. Earlier nights. Film. Practice. Ice baths. Rehab. Study. Sleep. Repeat. No distractions. No detours. Just football.

No one took it personally. Not really. This was how he was wired. How he dealt with things. But that didn’t mean you didn’t notice the way his texts became shorter, the way he started disappearing from the group chat, the way even Ja’Marr and Tee could barely get more than a few words out of him after a loss.

You weren’t even sure if stopping by was the right move. Still, you showed up at his house the day after their first win, peanut butter oat cups in hand and a ton of nerves in your stomach. You just…wanted—no needed to see him. To lay eyes on him and know he was okay.

Joe opened the door a few moments later, looking like a guy carrying a losing record on his shoulders. His hoodie was slightly wrinkled, his hair, which had already grown out tremendously, was still damp from a shower, and there was something unshakably tired about the way he stood.

But when he saw you, his posture relaxed just a little.

“Hey,” he said, voice low.

“Hey.” You offered a small smile, holding out the box. “Figured you’d be on lockdown mode, so I won’t keep you. Just wanted to drop these off.”

His lips twitched like he was debating whether or not to smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” You shrugged. “But I did.”

Joe exhaled, running a hand over his face before glancing down at the box in his hand with a small smile. You were definitely going to consider this a win.

You let the silence settle between you for a moment before finally saying, “I know this is my first season actually paying attention to all this, but…I do know one thing.”

He looked at you then, a softer expression on his face as he shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“This season isn’t over,” you said firmly. “Not even close. I know you well enough to know you won't just give up without a fight.”

Joe swallowed hard, slowly nodding his head. He didn’t respond right away, but you didn’t need him to. Instead, you reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder—just for a second, just to ground him.

“I’ll let you do your thing,” you murmured. “I just needed to see you for myself.”

Something flickered in his expression, something almost vulnerable, but before you could place it, he sighed, releasing a significant amount of tension in his muscles.

“Come on,” he said, closing the door behind him. “I’ll walk you out.”

The morning air was cool as the two of you walked in quiet steps toward your car. When you reached the door, you turned to say goodbye, but before you could, Joe pulled you into a hug.

It caught you off guard at first, the warmth of him, the way he held onto you like he needed this moment more than he was willing to say.

And then you felt it.

The steady, rapid beat of his heart against your chest.

You weren’t sure what it meant. If he even realized how much he was giving away just by standing here, holding you like this. And as much as you wanted to say something—to push—you got in your car holding back a smile.

October

The guys were riding on a high after beating the Giants, allowing themselves to celebrate for a total of...four hours.

By the time Joe made his way to Ja’Marr’s place, the energy in the house was still buzzing. Most of the guests had gone home and it was just the core four cleaning up in the kitchen, while others made their way in and out of the house. For once, nobody was sulking over film breakdowns or injury reports. It was rare for Joe to show up to things like this—especially in-season—but a win after weeks of frustration made it easier to step outside his routine, even if only for a little while.

He kept to himself for the most part, sitting back and listening while his receivers talked over each other about plays, what went right and what they could’ve done better. But the conversation took a sharp turn when Quinn, comfortably stretched out on the couch with a glass of wine in hand, looked up and announced, “Oh, by the way, I got her on dating apps.”

Silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

“Wait, what?” Tee sat up so fast he almost knocked over his drink. “Are you serious?”

“Like, for real?” Ja’Marr leaned forward, grinning. “Ain’t no way.”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” Quinn smirked, pulling out her phone. “Took some convincing, but she finally caved. And now I get to be the supportive best friend who helps her swipe.”

Ja’Marr rubbed his hands together. “Hand it over. We gotta see this. Make sure ain’t no weirdos on there. Last thing I need is for you to end up on some true crime Netflix special.”

Joe stayed quiet, gripping the neck of his water bottle a little too tightly as you handed them Quinn your phone and she pulled up the profile. Tee and Ja’Marr crowded around, making dramatic noises every time they scrolled past a new guy.

“Absolutely not,” Tee muttered, swiping left.

“Oh, hell no.” Ja’Marr swiped even faster. “Why he posing like that?”

“This one’s kinda decent, though,” Quinn argued, nudging the phone toward them. “Look at him.”

Joe didn’t look. He didn’t join in on the commentary, didn’t make a joke, didn’t do anything except sit there, staring at the condensation rolling down his water bottle, wondering why there was a weird feeling sitting heavy in his chest.

It wasn’t like he had a right to feel any type of way about this. And he knew what it meant.

But that didn’t stop him from feeling it anyway no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

Between the temperature fluctuations and the sudden boom in business, your head was spinning. The bakery had never been more popular. What had started as a hidden gem over the summer had officially become one of Cincinnati’s go-to spots. Lines stretched out the door on weekends, with customers raving about the new fall menu: cinnamon swirl snickerdoodle blondies, apple cider donuts, maple pecan scones. You barely had time to catch your breath between managing the chaos and perfecting each batch, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Meanwhile, the Bengals’ season remained a rollercoaster. A solid win against the Browns gave everyone a glimmer of hope, but that optimism came crashing down when the Eagles steamrolled them by twenty. After that game, no one heard from Joe. His silent rage wasn’t unusual after a loss, but it was nevertheless, felt from miles away.

The next week, they bounced back in a big way, blowing out the Raiders at home. The scoreboard said it was a dominant win, but Joe was still visibly pissed, seen on the sidelines venting to Zac Taylor about missed offensive opportunities and a shit ton of penalties that should've been avoided. The moment went viral—clips of his animated rant flooded social media, with analysts debating whether his frustration was a sign of his competitive fire or a deeper issue brewing in Cincinnati.

That night, everyone met at Jeff Ruby’s for dinner, but Joe didn’t show. To the surprise of absolutely...nobody.

Toward the end of the night, the restaurant manager approached your table with a takeout bag in hand. “This is Joe’s order,” he explained. “He called it in, but something came up. He asked me to give it to you, is that okay?"

You hesitated for a second before nodding. “Yeah, I got it.”

It wasn’t long before you were standing outside his house, takeout bag in hand, knocking on his door. When he opened it, he looked exhausted. Not physically—no visible bruises or signs of injury—but mentally. His eyes were dull, his usual composed demeanor carrying an edge of frustration.

You gave him the bag. “Figured you should still eat.”

Joe took it with a small nod. “Thanks.”

For a second, you considered just leaving, letting him sit with whatever was weighing on him. But instead, you crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe. “You wanna talk about it?”

He let out a slow breath, rubbing his jaw before stepping back to let you in. You followed him to the kitchen, watching as he set the bag down on the counter but didn’t open it.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, finally breaking the silence. “I just—” He sighed. “I’m playing well, but I don’t know if we as a collective have what it takes to close out games when it actually matters. We can beat shit teams, but the moment we go up against a real contender, it’s like everything falls apart. And I hate feeling like we’re right there but just not good enough.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of what he was saying. Joe wasn’t the type to be satisfied with mediocrity. He needed to win, and not just in ways that looked good on paper. At this point, to get back on track they needed to look dominant— unstoppable. Not like kids throwing together a project at the last minute because they forgot the due date.

“I get it,” you said softly. “This is your job, your career. You don’t half-ass anything, and you don’t want to settle for middle of the pack.”

Joe’s lips pressed together, his gaze flickering to yours. “Exactly.”

He ran a hand through his hair before exhaling sharply. “I’m sorry for missing dinner. Just…had a lot on my mind.”

You tilted your head, a flash of curiosity taking over. “Anything besides football?”

For a second, he was quiet, debating whether or not to answer. You could see the internal battle written all over his face, his jaw tensing and flexing as he pondered the risks of honesty.

Then, he muttered, “Fuck it.”

Your brows lifted, but before you could ask, he looked at you—really looked at you—and said, “I’ve been...thinking about you.” His voice was low, steady, but you could hear the weight behind it. “More than I want to. More than I should.”

The words knocked the air from your lungs.

You should’ve said something, but for once, you had no idea what to say. Instead, you took a step forward. Joe’s eyes tracked your movement, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance. His hand brushed against your waist, his gaze flickering to your lips, leaning in ever so slightly—

“Yo, have you seen my phone charger?”

Ja’Marr’s voice shattered the moment like glass.

Joe immediately stepped back, cursing again under his breath as Ja’Marr walked into the kitchen, completely oblivious to what he had just interrupted.

Your entire face was on fire and you were sure your heart was seconds away from bursting out of your chest.

Joe looked like he wanted to murder his best friend.

November

Neither of you brought up what almost happened. Maybe because neither of you were sure it should have happened. Or maybe, deep down, you were both afraid of what it would mean if you admitted that it did.

So, instead, things carried on like normal—except they weren’t normal at all.

Joe still came by the bakery, though now he had a habit of showing up under the guise of casual excuses. Like when he walked in one morning, a familiar water bottle in hand, and placed it on the counter in front of you.

“You left this at my house,” he said, completely straight-faced. “Wanted to make sure you’re staying hydrated.”

You blinked at him, then down at the bottle—one of many you’d undoubtedly left behind at places far more inconvenient. “You drove all the way here for…this?”

Joe shrugged. “Seemed important.”

Quinn made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. You didn’t have to turn to know she was giving Joe a look—one that said she saw right through him.

Still, nothing was said.

The two of you danced around the elephant in the room for 17 days. Then came the bye week, and as fate would have it, or your own personal hell, you ended up at Joe’s house, standing side by side in his kitchen as you baked a pumpkin pie together. The whole thing came randomly, he mentioned in passing that it was his favorite and he was spending his entire bye week on the couch so naturally you came up with a solution. Nobody else was free so it just ended up being you and him. Of course.

The kitchen smelled of cinnamon, nutmeg, and warm sugar, the scent pulling you into your natural element. This was your Paycor Stadium, your stage. R&B played in the background, filling the comfortable silence as Joe rolled out the pie dough with slow, concentrated movements. The counter was dusted with flour, the remnants of your work scattered across the surface.

"You’re pressing too hard," you murmured, stepping in behind him. You placed your hands gently over his, guiding his movements. "You want it even, but not overworked."

Joe huffed out a breath, the warmth of his chuckle brushing against your cheek. "So what you’re saying is, I’d be terrible on a baking show?"

You grinned, your fingers brushing against his as you both worked the dough. "I’m saying, there's some room for improvement for sure."

Joe turned his head slightly, just enough for his blue eyes to catch yours, his expression hard to read but there was a certain glimmer in his gaze. You didn’t move away. Neither did he. This was how it had been for months now—a quiet understanding, an unspoken closeness that had slowly built between you. It was in the way he showed up to your bakery with your favorite coffee, the way you memorized his weekly schedule, the way he looked for you after every home game, his gaze scanning the crowd in the player guest section postgame until he found you.

The pie crust was ready now, but neither of you were ready to move to finish it.

Joe’s hands lingered under yours, his thumbs lightly grazing your knuckles. "I like this," he admitted after a moment, his voice low. "Us. Doing this."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Me too."

It wasn’t just about the pie, and you both knew it.

You helped him move the dough into the pan, your fingers brushing again, sending little shivers up your spine. The pumpkin filling sat ready in a glass bowl, waiting to be poured, but Joe seemed far more interested in you. His eyes traced over your features, cataloging every detail as if he was afraid he’d forget them.

"What?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

Joe shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About?"

He exhaled slowly, rolling his lips together as if debating what to say. Then, instead of answering, he reached out to touch you, his fingers trailing down to your jawline, resting there a smidge too long. His movements were gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was giving you the chance to pull away.

You didn’t. You couldn't.

The space between you evaporated, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so delicate, so achingly tender, that it stole the breath from your lungs. It was slow, unhurried, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of you against him. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself sink into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie. The warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with vanilla extract—it was intoxicating.

Joe deepened the kiss, a quiet desperation laced within it, months of lingering glances and fleeting touches culminating in this moment. You felt his hesitation fade, replaced by something raw and real, something neither of you could ignore any longer.

But then he pulled away.

And you saw it—regret, creeping into his expression before he even said the words.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “This was a mistake.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Are you serious?”

Joe exhaled, looking anywhere but at you. He was still standing somewhat close but his hands weren’t on you anymore, making the temperature in the room instantly feel like it had dropped 20 degrees. Even the expression on his face was a little colder than before. “I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Your heart was pounding, anger curling hot in your chest. It was the only thing fueling you and keeping you warm. “I think it's a little too late for that. Joe, things have already changed. These past few weeks—hell, these past few months—we’ve been dancing around this. We’re not in fucking high school. Just tell me the truth.”

You took a step closer, forcing him to face you. To look at you. “Do you honestly have no feelings for me?”

Silence.

Then, finally—too quiet— “I don’t.”

You flinched like he’d slapped you.

Joe must have seen it because he let out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just—overwhelmed. The team is losing, and I’m playing the best football of my life, and I just—I can’t add another thing to my plate right now.”

You studied him for a long moment, jaw tight, hands clenched at your sides. Then, finally, you nodded.

You stared at him, waiting for him to take it back, to say something—but he didn’t. He just stood there, shoulders tense, eyes locked on the floor like he was hoping if he didn’t look at you, this would all just go away.

“You’re such a coward.”

Joe’s head snapped up, but you were already shaking your head, anger and frustration crashing into you all at once.

“You are so stuck in your own head,” you continued, voice sharp, unrelenting. “You keep everyone at arm’s length so you don’t get hurt. So you don’t have to admit that you actually feel things like a normal human being. You’re not some heartless football machine, Joe. You don’t have to live, breathe, and die this sport 24/7 to be fulfilled.”

You took a step forward, forcing him to face you, forcing him to hear you. “And you can stand there and act like this isn’t real, like there’s nothing between us, but I know there is. And you do too. Maybe it’s new, maybe it’s always been there, but I’m not stupid. At least I didn’t think I was.”

Joe’s jaw tightened, but he still said nothing.

And that? That pissed you off even more.

You scoffed, blinking away the sting in your eyes as you turned on your heel, grabbing your things off the counter. “If you want to pretend none of this is real, then fine. I won’t fight you on it.”

Joe didn’t move. He didn’t stop you.

You lingered for half a second, hoping—praying—that he’d snap out of it. That he’d reach for you, say your name, give you anything.

But all he did was stand there, motionless, watching you go.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head one last time before you reached for the door.

“Don’t burn my pie,” you muttered, then stepped outside, slamming the door shut behind you.

December

Joe told himself, over and over, that he’d made the right decision.

That pulling away had been necessary. That it was better this way.

But as the weeks passed, the reality of it settled in like a dull, persistent ache in his chest. The group dynamic wasn’t the same anymore. Quinn was firmly on your side, and Tee and Ja’Marr were caught in the middle, trying their best to act like everything was normal when it clearly wasn’t.

You only hung out with them if Joe wasn’t going to be there, and eventually, he stopped showing up altogether. Left the group chat, too, because what was the point?

So, yeah. He told himself this was what he wanted. That it was for the best.

Then one day, the night before his birthday while the Bengals were in Dallas, his house was broken into.

It was everywhere. The footage of the smashed window. The grainy security cam stills of showing the inside of his house. The headlines dissecting every detail—what was stolen, how much damage was done.

For a second—just a fleeting, stupid second—he thought maybe you’d reach out.

But you didn’t.

And why would you? It wasn’t your place anymore.

You were moving on. Meeting new people.

Like Cory.

Sweet, mature, honest-about-his-feelings Cory.

More than Joe could say for himself.

Joe wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.

At all, really.

But when he overheard Tee and Ja’Marr talking about you, about how you’d been going on several dates with some guy named Cory, he couldn’t help but listen.

“Seems like a good dude,” Tee said, scrolling through his phone. “Takes her out, treats her right.”

“She actually looks happy, too,” Ja’Marr added. “Not whatever the fuck that was with Joe.”

Joe rolled his eyes, slamming his locker shut. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Ja’Marr turned to him, unimpressed. “It means you fumbled, bro.”

Tee nodded. “Big time.”

Joe exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He wasn’t in the mood for this. But they weren’t letting it go, so he told them. Everything. The kiss, the fight, the way he let you walk away because he was too caught up in his own head to admit how he really felt.

By the time he finished, Tee and Ja’Marr were looking at him like he was the dumbest man alive.

“You fumbled twice,” Tee corrected.

“She’s moving on,” Ja’Marr added. “And from the sound of it, dude’s actually putting in effort. You had your chance.”

Joe didn’t respond, just sat there, feeling more irritated by the second. He told himself he didn’t care.

The restaurant was dimly lit, the soft hum of jazz playing in the background as you swirled the last bit of your wine in the glass. Across from you, Cory was smiling, eyes warm and excited in a way that made you feel a little guilty. He was sweet, thoughtful, and easy to be around. The kind of man that you bring home to your parents and settle down with. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He was easy. There was no tension, no unsaid words, no history thick enough to make the world stand completely still for a minute.

You were on your fifth date now, and even though you liked him, you knew deep down you weren’t feeling it the way you were supposed to.

“I, uh—I actually got something for you,” Cory said, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Well, it’s more of a surprise, really.”

You set your glass down, watching as he pulled out a sleek envelope and slid it across the table toward you. “Go on, open it.”

You hesitated before peeling it open, your heart practically stopping when you saw what was inside. Two tickets to the game—Bengals vs. Broncos. A must-win. And VIP passes for the postgame meet-and-greet.

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

“I wasn't snooping in your house or anything but I did see a Bengals cup in your cabinet the other day. But you never really said anything about being a fan?” Cory said, clearly proud of himself. “i don't know, I figured you might like it. And hey, you can finally meet some of the players.”

Your stomach twisted painfully. You swallowed down the instinct to refuse, to make up an excuse, to say absolutely the fuck not. But what reason did you have? To Cory, there was nothing complicated about this—just a thoughtful gift for someone he was getting to know.

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “Wow, Cory. This is...really sweet of you.”

“So, you’ll come?” he asked, his grin widening.

You nodded, the weight of your own decision pressing against your chest. “Yeah,” you said, voice quieter than you meant it to be. “I’ll go.”

And just like that, you sealed your fate.

Admittedly, it was their best game of the season. A win in OT, a Tee touchdown to keep their playoff hopes alive, and all the players riding on a high of a multiple game win streak. A month ago, you would've been celebrating right along with them. But tonight you really needed to get through this meet and greet without throwing up. And without blowing your cover. If nothing else, this was Cory's opportunity to have a once in a lifetime experience and the last thing you wanted to do is ruin that.

And then you saw him.

And Joe saw you with...him.

He saw how the guy next to you couldn’t wait to shake his hand—Joe thought it was a joke. Thought maybe this was some kind of sick cosmic punishment for all the terrible decisions he’d made in the last few months.

You looked good, unfairly good in your jacket and Bengals beanie, one that Tee had given you and Joe felt his irritation morph into something else entirely.

You weren’t even looking at him.

Cory, meanwhile, was beaming. “Man, it’s so cool to meet you. You played great tonight.”

Joe barely managed a nod, jaw tight.

Cory didn’t seem to notice the tension thickening the air, but you did.

And when your eyes finally met Joe’s, there was something there—something that made his pulse jump—before you quickly looked away.

Yeah. Joe was pissed.

The moment Cory got distracted meeting some of the other players, shaking hands and taking pictures, Joe saw his chance. He stepped toward you, lowering his voice.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. “Attending a football game, in the city I live in. Apparently that's a crime now.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then be more specific," you bite out.

Joe exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. “Him? This?” He gestured vaguely in Cory’s direction. “Really?”

Your expression hardened. “Yes, really. He’s kind, honest, actually says what he feels instead of hiding behind excuses and—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “You know what? No. I don’t owe you an explanation. I don't owe you shit.”

Joe clenched his jaw. “So that’s it? You’re just—what? Moving on like none of it mattered?”

“Oh, now you want to talk about it?” You whisper yell. “You didn't have anything for me when I asked you, remember? All you could do was look at the floor like a freaking idiot. It was crickets and now you have the nerve to ask me what this is? You don’t get to do this, Joe. You don’t get to push me away, call me a mistake, then act like you suddenly care when you see me with someone else.”

He stepped closer, voice low and tense. “You know damn well I care.”

You swallowed, blinking up at him, and for a second—just a second—Joe thought you might let your guard down. That you might admit there was still something there.

But then you shook your head. “If you actually cared, we wouldn’t be having this conversation here. We actually wouldn't be having this conversation at all. I would've been here, with you. Not looking for pieces of you in another guy, a perfectly nice guy who just wanted to meet the freaking Bengals today. So if you don't mind, I'm gonna go meet Tee Higgins and Ja’Marr Chase...for the first time.”

Joe didn’t know what to say to that.

So you left him standing there, walking back toward Cory with a smile, pulling him in for a hug like Joe wasn’t just barely holding himself together.

January

Exactly seven days later, while Cory was over watching the game with you, Joe took a hit and stayed down. This time you were hanging on by a thread, on the inside. On the outside, you shoved some popcorn in your mouth and sipped on ginger ale, hoping the bubbles would bring your heart back to its rightful place instead of where it currently resided...in your stomach. You didn't know if he had a concussion but he definitely looked out of it, missing throws he usually made and the Bengals escaped Pittsburg by the skin of their teeth, securing a two point win on the road, their destiny up to chance. Ja'Marr called you in the locker room after the game to tell you he needed you at the watch party for good luck in praying on the Dolphins and the Broncos downfall. You told him you'd think about it, part of you didn't mind being in the same room as Joe, especially after you caved and watched his postgame press conference to make sure he wasn't lying about being concussed. Maybe the two of you could be cordial with each other and leave the past behind.

You woke up on the couch with NFL Network still on tv. Something about it felt embarrassing, because it felt right. Months ago you were watching an introduction to football PowerPoint and now you'd regularly catch yourself having football withdrawals. Just as you were ready to call it a night, turning off the tv and mentally preparing yourself to head to your room, you heard a knock at the door. Who could possibly be coming over at 2 in the morning?

You stood frozen in the doorway, gripping the edge of the door like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Your stomach dropped—hard and fast—like missing a step in the dark. Joe was standing there, still in the clothes you had seen him wearing during in his postgame press conference. His hair was a mess, the shadows under his eyes deeper than usual. He looked exhausted. But that wasn’t what made your breath hitch. It was him. Here. Now. After all this time.

“Joe.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “What are you doing?”

He exhaled heavily, a far away look in his eyes. “I don’t know.”

You crossed your arms, trying to steel yourself, ignoring the way your pulse was racing. “You don’t know? What do you mean you don't know? You just drove around after you landed and magically ended up here?”

“I don't know, I just—I couldn’t go home. Not without seeing you.” He swallowed hard, eyes flickering over your face like he was searching for something, anything that might give him an answer. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but when I got on the plane, all I could think about was you.”

Your heart clenched painfully. Damn him.

“You scared the hell out of me tonight,” you admitted before you could stop yourself. “Watching you go down like that—” You shook your head, gripping the fabric of your hoodie. “I hated it.”

His eyes softened, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. “I know. Can we just—can I come in?”

You stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid pressing in around you.

“Joe.” You sighed, your resolve crumbling at the sight of him standing there like that, like he wasn’t sure you’d let him in.

“Please,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Just for a minute.”

And against your better judgment, you stepped aside.

Joe ran a hand over his face and took a shaky breath. “I don’t even know what the fuck I was thinking on that play, the pocket collapsed so fast I didn't even have time to throw the ball away. And when I hit the ground, all I could think about was you.” He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Not football, not the game, not the playoffs. You. And how I’d fucked everything up so badly that you wouldn’t even reach out. That I wouldn’t get a chance to apologize.”

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to keep your expression unreadable.

“I’m so, so sorry. I was a coward,” Joe admitted, his voice breaking. “I am a coward. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be in control—of my game, my career, my emotions. It's kind of my thing. And you…” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You fuck all of that up for me. The way I feel about you scares the living shit out of me.”

You blinked, stunned into silence.

“I’m not some heartless football robot,” he continued, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m a man who’s been terrified to feel anything real because it means I can’t control it. And when I’m with you, it’s real. It’s been real for months, and you were right. About everything. I was too much of a fucking idiot to admit it.”

Your heart was pounding, your breath shallow. You wanted to believe him—God, you did—but you couldn’t just let him walk back into your life like he hadn’t wrecked you before.

“I need you to give me a chance to fix this,” Joe pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Please.”

You swallowed hard. “Joe…”

“I swear to you,” he interrupted, stepping closer, his hands almost reaching for you before he forced himself to stop. “I promise, I will prove to you that I’m not that coward anymore. Just… just say you’ll let me try.”

You studied him carefully, searching for any sign of doubt, any hesitation. But there was none. Only raw, unfiltered desperation and a kind of vulnerability you had never seen from him before.

Your walls were still up, but something inside you cracked. Just a little.

“You have to earn me this time,” you whispered.

Joe nodded instantly. “I will.”

After a hard conversation with Cory in the morning, you decided to attend the watch party the next day to test the waters. And to see your friends all in one place again. The atmosphere in Joe's house had shifted from tense to comfortable, a soft kind of warmth that had been missing for a while. The room was still, save for the quiet hum of the television, which was showing the Broncos slowly dismantling the Chiefs, much to the frustration of everyone else in the room. Joe had been quiet for the most part, lost in his thoughts, but you could tell he had already come to terms with the inevitable.

You weren’t sure if you should be relieved or sad about the Bengals missing the playoffs, but you did know one thing: it didn’t feel like the end for you and Joe. Not anymore.

The room had cleared out, the others heading to their respective homes after the game, leaving you and Joe alone. The snow outside had started to fall heavier now, creating a peaceful stillness that you couldn’t help but love. Joe seemed to notice the shift in the air as well, his eyes softening as he glanced over at you.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His concern was still there like that first night he found you outside the housewarming party, that need to take care of you even now.

You nodded, even though there was a part of you that was more uncertain than you wanted to admit. “Yeah. Just…just thinking.”

He leaned back against the couch, eyes flicking to the window as the snowflakes danced in the cold air. “You want me to drive you home? It’s getting pretty bad out there. Or, you could stay? Only if you want to."

You hesitated for a second, a small part of you wanting to avoid the drive, to stay with him just a little longer. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—like he was sure this time. Like there was no more running. “I think…I think I want to stay,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze.

Joe didn’t need any more convincing. He pulled you in close to him on the couch, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he let out a slow sigh. “I’m really gonna miss football," he murmured. “But I’ve got a lot of work to do with you, so I guess I’ve got some time now. I messed up before. I’m not messing this up again.”

You smiled, the weight of the past few weeks lifting off your shoulders just by being close to him. “I can’t wait to put you to work, 6am at the bakery tomorrow morning. And the next few mornings. For a while.” you teased, your voice barely audible.

Joe’s eyes darkened for a moment, a quiet promise in his gaze. He cupped your face gently, leaning in with a tenderness that took you by surprise. When his lips met yours, it was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment. A kiss full of unspoken apologies, solidifying what was to come, and the quiet declaration that he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right between the two of you. Even if some of that ended up with him getting covered in flour for the foreseeable future.

You didn’t pull away. In fact, you melted into the kiss, your heart swelling in your chest as his hands slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place like you were exactly where you belonged.

He pressed one more slow kiss to your lips before his eyes flicked to yours, searching. “So… does this mean our friendship over?” His voice was low, careful, but there was something else there—hope, maybe.

You didn’t even have to think about it. You let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking your head and running your fingers through his hair. “Absolutely. It’s dead and gone.”

Joe exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head before reaching for you, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “Good,” he murmured, tugging you closer. “Because I really didn’t want to be your friend anyway. Got much bigger plans in mind.”

[cochineal-leviat]

Valentine Special 2025 ships

Heyo, it's already midnight where I am, so Valentine's Day has passed, but I still wanted to celebrate it. Valentine's Day is weird for me because I am Aro&Ace, so I never really get to appreciate it. Every year, it just comes and passes, and I feel nothing, even though I do like the aesthetic.

But this week, I had the brilliant idea that even though I can't celebrate it conventionally, I can still do something for all the pairings and ships I have come to love over the years. So, I drew eleven ships that had helped me during my most challenging moments, from when I was a child to the present. They are ordered in no particular order but rather what I got on paper in my sketchbook.

Idk. Maybe this way me my fellow Aromantics shippers can still enjoy the holiday.

Which ship do you like best? I would love to know~ (even if it is simply from the technical perspective)

From the first panel to the last, we have:

Page 1

Kirfluff (is extra special to me as a fic I wrote for the pairing, including many other franchise characters, which led me to keep writing for fun and posting it online. Without I would not have the boost of confidence that I do now about my writing)

Metadede (Who doesn't love a good ship with a warrior's bond? They're hilarious)

Isafrin (my most recent ship. They make me soft and cry at the same time. Like this pairing adds a lot ISAT's story and manages to also be very entertaining and heartfelt)

Sonadow (I got into the ship before I was even into Sonic. There was even a long-ass fic I found back when I still read on Fanfiction.net that I reread every year because I found it so funny. I definitely enjoy the modern Sonadow writing more than a decade ago)

Snufmin (perfect balance between yearning and the needing space and the freedom to adventure. I want to read more of this ship)

Page 2

Ravioli(nk) (The name alone already makes it worth it. I also have an unholy amount of fics saved from this ship. They are the literal roommates meme)

Vidow (a classic. I enjoyed this one even before I got into Zelda. Like I was reading Four Swords without having any clue what the lore was or what the fuck was going on.)

Reguri (This was named Namelessshipping and Orginalshipping back in the day. Too tired to do research rn. But I think the difference lies in the manga and game versions. I prefer the game versions, personally)

Purpleshipping {Kieran x mc) (A little backstory: this is just the mc from Scarlet and Violet that I made an NB version for, which became their own person after writing a fic. Here, they are exchanging an Applin with Kieran. For those who know the custom, you know, you know. A friend of mine named this ship)

Shadowpeach (the most divorced couple I have ever come across. I remember back when this was considered a crack ship. Ah, good times. The character depictions were very different back then, too. I depicted them in their friend's era, but still. Btw Macaque is laughing at Sun Wukong's antics but I think it accidentally looks like he is laughing at Sun Wukong rather than with him. Oh well, it wouldn't be too out of character for seasons 1-3 Mac)

Marink (not a ship I read about a lot, but it hurt me so much when I played Link's Awakening for the first time. Everytime I think of Marin I feel sad)

[imsogonesposts]

The Odds are Never in Our Favor

|| ao3 || Finnick masterlist || requests are open!! || an: angst angst angst angst ||

summary: Finnick worries that you may be reaped for the Hunger Games during your final year in the reaping bowl. (wc: 1450)

Finnick was used to things not going his way. If things ever were to go his way, then he certainly wouldn't have been forced into the Hunger Games at the age of fourteen- and be one of the youngest to win the games. He also definitely wouldn't have been forced into some of the things that many victors were forced to do after winning their own games. 

Regardless, Finnick was thankful for many things. He had many great friends, his family was still alive and well, and he had an amazing girlfriend. A girlfriend who, thank the heavens, has yet to be reaped for the Hunger Games. 

Finnick wasn't sure what he would do if you were ever to get reaped for the games. He didn't think he could handle being your mentor, helping to train you only to lie awake at night, praying to any god he could think of that you'd make it out of the arena. It was already hard enough leading strangers to their deaths, he couldn't imagine having to do the same with you- the love of his life, the girl of his dreams. 

"Stop worrying so much," you reassured him with a smile, morning of the reaping, "it's my last year in the reaping pile, I doubt they'll pick me." 

Finnick wanted to believe you. He wanted to smile and admit that you were right, the chances of you getting picked were slim to none, and yet, he knew in the back of his head that many kids got reaped during their last year, the girl tribute from his year was eighteen, for example. He remembers her telling him how happy she was to finally have to stop worrying if she was next, only for her to end up getting called up her last year. No matter how much the Capitol wanted to say it, the odds were simply never in the favor of the citizens of Panem. 

"You're right," he replied with a false smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "There are other kids with their name in the bowl far more times than you," like Coil, Finnick's childhood best friend. On top of worrying for you, Finnick was also worried for his friend Coil, whose name was in the reaping bowl forty times. Like you, this was his last year in the reaping bowl, and like with you, Finnick was worried that the odds wouldn't be in his favor and that Coil would get reaped. Finnick wished he could rid these thoughts from his brain, but alas, worry got the best of him. 

Just a few more hours until the reaping is over and you can celebrate, he told himself, though he wasn't sure how well the mantra was working for him. He couldn't help but have a knot in his stomach, a small part of him knowing something would go wrong, he just wasn't sure what that something was yet. 

"Exactly," you told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'm only in there seven times, that's basically nothing." 

Yes, but when Finnick got reaped, his name was only there three times, and he still managed to get picked. 

"Yeah," Finnick whispered, giving you a short but sweet kiss. "Nothing."

***

Through the corner of his eye, Finnick caught you waving at him through the throng of potential tributes. He always liked to think you would always be the first thing he'd spot in a room, no matter what. He gave you a small nod, wishing he could smile back, but he had an image to upkeep for the Capitol. One he hated, but if it kept the people he cared about safe, then he could make do. 

He watched as Coral Steelwater, the District 4 escort, made her way across the stage. As she reached the microphone, she made the same speech she made every year. Speaking of the "importance" of the Hunger Games and talking about the past victors. Truthfully, it was going in one ear and out the other for Finnick. He could only stare at her bright blue wig as he prayed and prayed and prayed that you'd be safe. That you and all his friends would be safe another year, and that none of you would have to worry about the Hunger Games ever again. That none of you would have ever experience what he went through at such a young age. 

"Ladies first," Coral announced, finally breaking Finnick out of his endless trance. He watched as she made her way across the stage, reaching a hand into the big glass bowl as she pulled a name out from the top. 

And suddenly, Finnick felt himself go white as the entire crowd went silent before a hushed whisper fell over the crowd. He began pinching his side as you made your way up to the stage, the color lost on your face. He kept pinching himself, hoping this was all a stupid nightmare and that when he woke up, he could go to your house to see you alive and well. 

But he wasn't waking up. And you were finally on the stage, looking out into the crowd. Finnick felt a knot in his stomach grow. He didn't think he could do this- train you, try his best to get you out of the arena. He couldn't watch you die, he knew that would be the thing to finally break him. Years of pain and torture from the Capitol to keep the people he loved safe, and now you were getting thrown into the lion's den. Nothing about this was fair. Finnick felt like he was going to be sick. 

"And now for our boy tribute!" Coral said in an all too excited tone. Nothing about the Hunger Games was ever exciting, certainly not to him. Not with you in that arena, fighting for your life. But, he knew the people in the Capitol were eating this up. Your and Finnick's relationship was never much of a secret, he knew the Capitol was probably going crazy over a past Victor's girlfriend going into the arena. Especially with the fact that he would have to mentor you. He wasn't sure he had the stomach for this. 

Coral made her way across the other side of the stage, towards the bowl with the boy tribute names, and yet, he could barely keep his eyes off you. He couldn't let you die, he knew that. He just wasn't sure how he could protect you when you were in the arena and he was in the Capitol. 

The name Coral called suddenly pulled Finnick out of his thoughts. He could feel himself get sick all over again as he looked out into the crowd, seeing a look of shock and horror on his friend's face. 

"Coil Oceanway, dear, please come on stage," Coral announced in the microphone as he slowly made his way towards the stage. Finnick wasn't sure how he hadn't managed to throw up all over the stage. Not only was he to mentor you, the girl he had been crushing on since he was a little kid, that he finally got to be with, but he was also to mentor his life-long childhood best friend. And not only that, but the both of you couldn't make it out of the games alive. If he ever wanted to see one of you again, he would have to give up the other. He would have to watch one of you die. 

Finnick tried his best to keep a look of composure as you and Coil shook hands, the tributes of District 4. But he wasn't sure if he was doing a very good job. He wouldn't be too surprised if somehow, President Snow had something to do with the reaping this year. It certainly would make for a great story, it'd help keep people invested in the Hunger Games. "The Capitol Darling forced to mentor his girlfriend and childhood best friend, and watch one of them die!" He felt nauseous. 

The Capitol truly was a sick, cruel place. Finnick watched as the peacekeepers took you and Coil away, to the Justice building so you could say your final goodbyes to your family- they had done the same thing with him when he played his games- and he could hardly find it within himself to move. He didn't know how he could face your family, nor Coil's. He didn't know how he was going to be forced to mentor the two of you. He didn't know how he would be able to stomach watching either of you die. 

One thing was certain though, the odds were never in his favor. 

[mountainclimbingnerdynurse]

Since tgr is coming out next week, here's some long random thoughts I have:

-Jean only has a driver's licence so he could travel on away games. Tetsuji took/ locked away Jean's passport when he arrived in the US, but he needed government ID to fly for away games. It is given to Ichirou with the new deal. The perfect court were never taught any other life skills, so I don't see why they would've been taught to drive if they weren't taught to cook.

-When he starts traveling to away games with the Trojans, they find it odd that he doesn't have a passport. This finally leads them to a Google search that leads to a human trafficking page. Then they realize Jean ticks off most of the boxes (name change, no passport, forbidden interaction with the public, forbidden language, deferring to another (Tetsuji and Riko when he was a Raven), physical wounds/ scarring, etc). (I also imagine Jean to have a Moriyama brand on his heel where no one can see who didn't know to look there. . .)

-Jean is 100% an exy prodigy. Tetsuji wouldn't've just bought some random kid from a foreign country. Jean must've been incredible to catch his eye and make the money and the fuss of international adoptions worth it. And that was him as an untrained child. With the training from the Ravens, he's one of the best players in the game. When he plays healthy, unhurt, and supported with the Trojans, I think he's the best in the game. I'd love to see him easily scoring from the backline. It becomes a trademarked move that no one else can pull off. The ERC has to have special meetings at the end of the season to assess if they should alter the official rulebook to forbid backliners from scoring. (They don't.)

-I can't remember who first posted the idea, but I do think that Jean's father sex trafficked him as a child. (One doesn't jump straight to selling their kids to the mafia without building up to it first). Riko finds out and is upset that Jean is 'used goods'. This is what Jean is begging forgiveness for when Riko sends him into the other Raven's beds. (Also for looking at Kevin in the changeroom, obvs)

-Jeremy is just a normal dude with normal dude problems. He isn't allowed out during the week. Maybe his big scandal is just that he's not that academically inclined. If he was into drugs or hard-core partying, he wouldn't be allowed out on the weekends. Maybe he was on academic probation, or maybe his grades just weren't up to his parent's standards. At most there was a sex scandal in his first year when he was in first year and exploring his sexuality, resulting in the 'floozies' jokes. His mum and stepfamily are definitely homophobic, though.

-Elodie's death occurred at vaguely the same time as Jean's first suicide attempt. When he learns this, Jean blames himself for her death. He believes that because he 'forgot his place' and tried to escape his fate as a Moreau, Elodie was punished for it.

-Jean will attempt suicide in tgr. Nora said she'd drag Jean back to life, no matter how much he didn't want it. She also said tgr is sadder than tsc. It will happen for one of two reasons. 1) he's too low now. Being with the Trojans shows him that he is a person and he can decide his own fate. Kevin and Riko don't get to tell him when to live or die. Maybe he realizes that he didn't deserve everything he's been through, and feels trapped by the deal with Ichirou. 2) he makes an infraction against his addendum to his contract with the Trojans. Maybe he is rude to a reporter. Maybe he gets a yellow card (I don't really want any red cards. . .). Either way, he feels like his contract is void and that he'll be kicked off the team, and therefore his life is forfeit, so he decides to beat Ichirou to the punch.

-If that does happen, and if Jeremy does have a sibling who committed suicide, he's the one to find Jean. But Jeremy freezes and panics, and it's up to someone else to call EMS/ provide first aid. And then neither Jean nor Jeremy are in positions to help eachother through the aftermath. Cat and Laila carry them both.

-If Jean acquires a new hobby (other than pottery, cooking, and motorbikes), it should be gardening. That boy clearly loves the outdoors, and appreciates life. He should get to grow some pretty flowers, and enjoy the soil beneath his nails and the sin on his skin.

-The Ravens blame Jean 1000% for their downfall. This results in death threats/ mean letters from Ravens fans. At the regular season Ravens v Trojans, they injure Jean to the point of hospitalization (he plays throught the match and it isn't until a few days later that the team realizes something is wrong. This is when the Trojans realize Jean can't be trusted regarding his health status, and that he was playing every game as a Raven injured). At the championship game, it results in straight up attempted murder. (The Ravens still get knocked out in the early rounds) (I'm not the same as I was by perchancetosleep is probably my favourite fic ever, and goes along with this idea)

-I don't really love the idea of us knowing the person Ichirou is engaged to. However, someone posted that they thought maybe it was Elodie. I don't love that, nor do I think a Moriyama would marry property. However, he might marry someone with more influence, say, a Senator's daughter. If Ichirou marries someone we've already been introduced to, I could see it being Annalise. Because of their slightly estranged relationship, Jeremy had never met his future brother-in-law, and was seeing him for the first time on TV. I don't really think this could nor should happen, but it would make for some very interesting family get-togethers when all the ?Knoxes bring their plus ones. . . (Obviously Jean goes with Jeremy)

-my random headcanon: Jean only really heard other team's fight songs in his time as a Raven. He doesn't understand the floozies' love of TV, but he gets really into music. When he's happy, he sings softly to himself.

[ladysavich]

Hello! Supa strikas has always been one of my favorite cartoons and there is not enough talk about this fandom (definitely a fandom with more potential in my opinion) and the characters Headcons I have read your writing and they are all very nice. I was wondering if I could make a request. If you are not in any negative situation Can you make a hc about Twister Tiger?

If you have any writing problems (like writer's block) It's okay if you don't

(If there are any spelling mistakes or misunderstandings, please excuse me, I am using translation)

I hope you have a nice day !

hi! Thank you so much! And thank you for the request! I hope you like this @muerte-6. Don't forget to drink water and stay healthy!!!

(I am sorry if this took way to much time)

Twisting tiger general headcanons

His real name is Takeshi

around 25 years old

He was part of the same orphanage as Miko and became close friends with him Inyo.

Eventually, he got adopted by an old lady (who is now his grandmother)

He loves her dearly and she sighed him up for many extracurricular activities like football, track, and karate/ taekwondo

She is currently living in Japan. But Tiger calls her every day without fail

Tiger believes in myths and stereotypes a lot(It can be seen with his lucky charm or the Amal three ep, where he mentions 3 being a lucky number in many cultures)

Very knowledgeable about different cultures and their mythology

Shortest player in the team

Favourite food: hotdogs

Least favourite: is whatever the hell their chef prepares😭

He wants to join the medical field (if he stops playing soccer)

Best friends include: Shakes, Miko and Cool Joe

He tries his best to be seen as a respectable player and not get any rivals if possible

Uragiri pisses him off. But still he tries to remain respectful to his elders

Once tried to make tanghulu, didn't end up being pretty but it still tasted good

Very good cook (he is always humble about it tho)

Really likes riddles and board games

Likes bugs too

When he was little he used to collect caterpillars jut so he could watch their lifecycle

He can do a bit of contortion..it scared the shit out of the team.

Once he did the back-bending thing in a clown costume…el matador saw god for a solid 10 seconds

The fastest ovbsly

He always wanted to have a pet kitten when he was younger

He ever started feeding the street cats and now he feeds their children

Not a huge fan of competitions

Cheered for miko whenever he receives a trophy at award events

Likes using those animal printed face mask sheets

He finds them really cute and soothing

Also likes to walk into miniso and just look at the things there.

He thinks that the plushies or the necklaces are nice. But he doesn't buy any, he just finds the store visually pleasing.

I am sorry if this was a bit short. But I hope you like it anyway!!!

[judamars]

So I’m probably not that smart but I did take both psychology classes and sociology classes in college and they were a pretty big part of my time there.

I think in this particular situation, Gihun was the victim of what is called Operant Conditioning, which is the type of conditioning where a voluntary behavior is associated with a consequence.

By the time Gihun had reached Ilnam on his deathbed to confront him, he had already been conditioned by the games to believe that his impulsive desire to help others in need is something that will always be met with consequence. Ilnam kinda feeds into this subconscious thinking as well. You kinda see in both seasons how he still has feelings of guilt and shame, and even traumatic responses, from witnessing the death of others. (Flashback to the work strike (s1), dalgona dream (s2)). Because of his own personality, he is aware that he can make a difference by helping others when he sees they need help. That doesn’t change. But his apprehension when something goes gravely wrong as a result of such gets worse as the show progresses.

My theory is that the reason Ilnam and the Frontman actively use operant conditioning on him specifically is not because they don’t want him to stop helping people, they want him to stop helping THEIR people. The ones who join the games. The frontman has VIPs to entertain in a messed up capitalist system, and he knows that Gihun will stop at nothing to find him and attempt to put an end to it.

I also want to mention how Gihun had had three years since he left the games the first time to find them. But because he didn’t take that time to thoroughly process his trauma and to instead obsess over the source of it, he then became subject to the brunt of what PTSD/CPTSD can do to people, especially men. Specifically, i noticed symptoms such as intrusive thoughts, anxiety, feelings of guilt and shame, and hyper vigilance. But im sure there’s more.

Now just as a PTSD survivor and someone who knows other people who suffer from the same thing, a common thing that happens with the disorder (if it’s not already known) is increased empathy.

PTSD survivors are more likely to show ten times the amount of empathy. That is both proven in a few studies provided by google, and is also kinda common sense. Studies were mostly done on adults with childhood trauma, however I still think it could apply to both Gihun’s games experience and his past. And sure, a PTSD survivor may also experience impaired empathy after trauma, but Gihun is definitely portrayed as showing increased empathy. Helping people win the red light green light game by yelling out tips, helping that eliminated player across the finish line, those are all definite signs of increased empathy. As for seeing his best friend die, it does leave the question of whether that will either diminish this level of empathy or increase it. I do hope season 3 sheds some light on that, as the initial reaction cannot really tell you either way what his emotions will compel him to do in response.

One more thing I will mention about Gihun’s trauma, because I do think it’s interesting how he didn’t adhere to his own morals after the first set of games were over. I think he definitely saw the opportunity of confronting Ilnam and playing Russian roulette with the recruiter as ways to relive his trauma and somehow find a way to cope in those moments, specifically with the adrenaline rush of potentially putting a bullet in his head during roulette.

I could go WAAAAYYYYY more in depth about this but I feel like I’ve made this way too long already. I just definitely wanted to share this because I felt I could contribute.

All of my blabbing boils down to this, Gihun is a survivor of a deadly, capitalistic system that has put him through such intense trauma, that hasn’t really made him a different person per se but has just made his emotions and his impulses much more intense.

Also, here are some sources I reviewed, just to provide more information

someone smarter than me who knows more abt psychology needs to write abt gi-hun and the learned helplessness that the games instilled in him. i find the last episode of s1 so interesting bc i KNOW that pre-games gi-hun would've gone down to the street and helped out that homeless guy himself. bc pre-games gi-hun, despite his many flaws, was proactive and impulsive and deeply caring towards others. but post-games gi-hun just stays put and waits for someone else to do help the guy. bc the games taught him that even when he tries to help people, he won't succeed. and that trying to help people never works. i don't think it's something he would consciously believe but it got ingrained in him on a subconscious level.

i think by s2 he's started to find his will and strength to help others again, as evidenced by him trying so hard to end the games and by him helping that one eliminated player in red light green light. but i'm worried that him standing up and starting a rebellion only to watch his best friend die is gonna put him right back in that mindset of believing that he can't (and shouldn't) do anything or help anyone.

i also think it's so interesting how even though he has such a distaste for the games, he still mostly follows the rules. even the rebellion itself could be seen as part of the game. but i'm mostly thinking about how he could have saved that homeless man, or how he could have refused to play russian roulette with the recruiter, but he didn't. he thinks he proved il-nam wrong, but in a way he just proved him right by standing so high above that man on the verge of death, literally betting on whether he'd live or not while doing nothing to help him. he was a vip in that moment and he didn't even realise it

[lunalaastra]

The Brothership Experience:

This was fun to draw XD Like I said, I think I’m keeping it a sketch ‘cause I think it kinda works

[blueskittlesart]

*sigh* thoughts on Nintendo's botw/totk timeline shenanigans and tomfoolery?

tbh. my maybe-unpopular opinion is that the timeline is only important when a game's place on the timeline seriously informs the way their narrative progresses. the problem is that before botw we almost NEVER got games where it didn't matter. it matters for skyward sword because it's the beginning, and it matters for tp/ww/alttp (and their respective sequels) because the choices the hero of time makes explicitly inform the narrative of those games in one way or another. it matters which timeline we're in for those games because these cycles we're seeing are close enough to oot's cycle that they're still feeling the effects of his choices. botw, however, takes place at minimum 10 thousand years after oot, so its place on the timeline actually functionally means nothing. botw is completely divorced from the hero of time & his story, so what he does is a nonissue in the context of botw link and zelda's story. thus, which timeline botw happens in is a nonissue. honestly I kind of liked the idea that it happened in all of them. i think there's a cool idea of inevitability that can be played with there. but the point is that the timeline exists to enhance and fill in the lore of games that need it, and botw/totk don't really need it because the devs finally realized they could make a game without the hero of time in it.

[hibernating-stag]

Btw I completely understand why when I asked what guilty gear game I should start with I received so many different answers to that question- like. There's no one answer fits all to this one I'm afraid!

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[maintitle]

The DA fandom is gonna be really interesting when I'm in my mid-to-late 40's and folks are talking about Veilguard like they talk about DA2 now.