#help me im already writing the second chapter

[raksh-writes]

Twf your body forces you to take a break by making you feel sick and giving you migraine symptoms, like-- thanks, I get it, but could you lay off on the stress if Im to have any Actual rest? Please and thank you :')

[cheftsunoda]

reckless — ln4, op81

smau/real life

lando norris x !ex singer reader

oscar piastri x !singer reader

y/n and lando had been inseparable since they were nineteen, building a life together through the highs and lows. but lately, something felt off. as lando grew distant, yn’s suspicions quietly grew—until the truth unraveled…he’d been cheating with magui. instead of confronting him, yn poured her heartbreak into a song—one that ended their relationship for the world to hear. in the aftermath, she found comfort where she least expected it… in the arms of lando’s own teammate.

fc : stassie karanikolaou and various pinterest gals

special request from my love @cmgmikealson 🧡

i am legit posting heal your heart right as we speak so part 4 is posted if you’re looking for it

—

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, carlossainz55, mclaren & 1,294,389 others.

yourusername : life’s been pretty good to me lately<3

—

username00 : so pretty love

username7 : no lando like?

username15 : he usually is first comment 🤨

username5 : im so confused where is her man

username8 : guys he is in the dump relax

alexandrasaintmleux : god you are so beautiful

liked by yourusername

yourusername : come smooch on me pretty

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

charles_leclerc : what did I walk into?

alexandrasaintmleux: look away cha

liked by yourusername

carlossainz55 : Miss you yn!

liked by yourusername

yourusername : miss you carlitos! golf with papà soon?

liked by carlossainz55 and carlossainzoficial

carlossainzoficial : Sí!

liked by yourusername and carlossainz55

kikagomes : my stunning girl

liked by yourusername

yourusername : love you to the moon and back

username10 : where tf is lando?

—

‘This chapter's about

How you said there was nobody else

Then you got up and went to her house

You guys always left me out’

—

He grabs his keys from the counter, barely glancing in my direction.

“I’ll be back later,” Lando says, voice flat.

“Where are you going?” I ask, keeping my tone light—casual, like I don’t already feel the distance growing between us.

He shrugs. “Just out.”

No name. No place. No explanation.

I nod, pretending not to care. “Okay. Be safe.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and silence floods the room. I sit there, staring at the space he just walked out of. My chest feels heavier than it should. I could’ve asked again, pressed for an answer—but what would that change? I already know the truth, even if I’m too scared to say it out loud. Something’s wrong. I feel it in the way he doesn’t look at me the same. In how he only kisses me when he thinks I’m not paying attention to the way his mind is somewhere else. Maybe I don’t argue because deep down… I’m tired of fighting for someone who’s already gone.

—

f1gossipgirls

457,296 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Rumors have been swirling for weeks about F1 driver Lando Norris and model/influencer Magui Corceiro, and it looks like things just heated up. The two were seen leaving Magui’s apartment early Tuesday morning, looking very cozy—and definitely not like just friends. Sources say Y/N, Lando’s longtime girlfriend, was not around at the time. The pair kept it low-key, both wearing sunglasses and casual fits, but witnesses couldn’t help but notice the chemistry (and the fact that lando was spotted there overnight).

—

username00 : yn deserved so much better. she gave that man years of loyalty and he gave her betrayal in return. i hope she writes a whole album about this.

username10 : lando leaving his apartment with Magui like we wouldn’t notice?? men have no shame.

username22 : you mean to tell me lando threw away 5 years with yn (the most stunning person on the planet) for felix’ sloppy seconds?

username30 : yn’s silence speaks louder than words.

usernameeee : lando FUMBLED.

—

‘When you told me that I was the only girl

You'd ever want in your life’

The post sits on my phone screen, still open. Lando and Magui, walking out of our apartment like it was theirs. Like I didn’t exist. When I hear the front door open, I don’t move. Just stare at the screen until it turns black. I lock it and set it face down.

Lando walks in, running a hand through his hair like he’s exhausted. “Hey, I’m back,” he says softly.

I look up, trying to sound casual. “Were you with Magui?”

He pauses in the middle of the room. Not long, but long enough.

Then he walks over slowly, kneels in front of me, and rests his hands gently on my knees. “Yeah,” he says, voice calm. “She needed someone to talk to. She was going through something, and I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“There are pictures,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he murmurs. “They look worse than it was. I swear, Y/N. Nothing’s going on with her. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

His eyes search mine like he’s begging me to believe him. He squeezes my hands. “You’re the only one I want. You always have been.”

I nod slowly, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Okay.”

He leans in and kisses my forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I whisper back.

But I still don’t believe him.

Because love shouldn’t come with this much doubt.

And the part of me that used to feel safe with him… doesn’t anymore.

—

‘Each day goes by and each night, I cry

Somebody saw you with her last night

You gave me your word, "Don't worry 'bout her’

The room is quiet except for the occasional sniffle I try to stifle into my pillow. The sheets are pulled up to my chin, but they don’t feel warm—just heavy. Like everything else. My phone is beside me, screen dimmed, waiting for a notification that won’t come. No apology. No explanation. Just silence. I open my Notes app instead, the cursor blinking back at me like it knows what’s coming. I start typing, barely able to see through the blur in my eyes. The words hurt. But they feel true. They feel like mine. I let out a shaky breath, backlit by the soft glow of the screen, when a buzz cuts through the stillness.

Max Fewtrell :

Hey. I know Lando is my best friend but what he is doing to you is so wrong, yn. You’ve been loyal to him for so long. I saw him out with magui again. I wanted you to know. I’m so sorry.

My heart drops. Max never texts me like this. Not unless it’s something important. Not unless he feels like I deserve to know. I stare at the message, my fingers trembling. He lied. Looked me in the eye and told me she just “stopped by.”

I feel something crack quietly inside me—not loud or explosive, just the kind of break you can’t come back from.

—

‘How could you be so reckless with my heart?’

I lie in bed for a while, Max’s message burning a hole in my chest. I keep hoping—praying—there’s a reasonable explanation. That I’m overthinking. That he’s telling the truth. But something inside me shifts. That quiet voice that’s been whispering doubts for weeks gets louder. I can’t ignore it anymore. So I get up. I move through the apartment on autopilot, careful not to make a sound, like I’m trespassing in a home that used to feel like mine. Lando’s bag is by the door, half-zipped, carelessly tossed like everything else in this relationship lately. I kneel beside it, heart pounding. I don’t want to be this person. I never wanted to look. But he made me. Inside, I find his phone charger, his sunglasses… and then a second phone. One I’ve never seen before. It’s not locked. My hands are cold as I scroll through the texts. Her name is right there—Magui—bold and glowing like a warning.

“Miss you already.”

“Last night was everything.”

“Don’t forget your hoodie. I kept it.”

Photo attachments. Her in our kitchen. Her in his hoodie. The same one he wore when he left that day. The same one I folded and left out for him the night before. My breath catches. I can’t cry. Not right now. My body won’t let me. I set the phone down on the counter and stare at it, like it’s some kind of weapon. Because it is. Proof of betrayal. Of everything he swore wasn’t happening.

And suddenly, I’m not heartbroken.

I’m done.

—

‘You check in and out

Of my heart like a hotel

And she must be perfect, oh well

I hope you both go to hell’

I don’t rush.

There’s a strange calm that settles over me as I fold my clothes, one by one, placing them carefully into the suitcase I bought on our first trip together. I don’t slam drawers or throw things. I just… let go.

Piece by piece.

Everything that once felt like home now feels like evidence. The framed photo of us at Silverstone. The hoodie he gave me when I first stayed over. The mug with my initial that he always filled before his morning races.

I don’t take them.

He can have the memories.

I zip the suitcase slowly and glance around the apartment one last time. It looks the same. But everything’s changed.

On the counter, I leave the second phone. Unlocked. Open to the last message from Magui.

And next to it, I place a folded piece of paper.

‘i trusted you. i loved you. she must be perfect, oh well. i hope you both go to hell.’

—

‘Hey, this is a story I hate

But I told it to cope with the pain

I'm so sorry if you can relate’

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri & 4,379,275 others.

yourusername : i got cheated on so alex got me this shirt, we went to ibiza to party and i released my new single reckless out now 🗣️

—

username00 : alex is the best ever

username10 : this is so iconic. the shirt. the cig in ibiza. im in tears.

alexandrasaintmleux : i love love love you- the trip was so fun

liked by yn_ln

charles_leclerc : Glad you girls had fun! Hope you’re feeling better, yn:)

liked by yn_ln and alexandrasaintmleux

yn_ln : thanks for letting us borrow the jet Charlie;)

liked by charles_leclerc

kikagomes : so iconic FUCK HIM

liked yn_ln

oscarpiastri : Glad you’re healing, YN. He did you wrong.

liked by yn_ln

kikagomes : or fuck his teammate??

liked by yn_ln & oscarpiastri

username17 : OH MY GOD

carlossainz55 : glad to be your tour guide :)

liked by yn_ln

yn_ln : 10/10 would recommend

username000 : oh so she won everyone in the breakup

—

36 missed calls from Lando

115 messages from Lando

—

The Monaco streets are quiet this early—just the soft hum of waves below and the rhythmic slap of my sneakers against the pavement. The city’s waking up, but I’ve been up for hours. Running clears my head in ways sleep can’t lately. I round the corner near Port Hercule, pulling my hoodie tighter around me as the breeze cuts through. Just as I hit the incline by the marina, a familiar figure jogs past in the opposite direction—then slows down and doubles back.

“Yn?”

I pause, pulling out one earbud. “Oscar?”

He jogs up, slightly out of breath, curls damp with sweat, that easy smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t know you were back.”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to steady both my breathing and the sudden flutter in my chest. “Just got in a few days ago.”

He nods, studying me for a beat. “You alright?”

I give a tired smile. “Getting there.”

He doesn’t push. Just offers a quiet, steady presence, the kind I didn’t know I needed until now.

“I was gonna grab a coffee and walk the market after this,” he says, shifting his weight slightly. “You feel like company?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is this a pity invite?”

He grins. “Only if you say no. Then it’ll definitely be pity.”

I laugh—really laugh—for the first time in days. The air feels lighter somehow.

“Alright,” I say. “But I’m picking the playlist next time we run into each other.”

He falls in step beside me. “Deal.”

—

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, kikagomes, carlossainz55 & 2,278,245 others.

yourusername : never been happier <3

—

username00 : new man??! bets??

username10 : better not see any “you moved on quick” comments because he moved on while they were still together

username5 : what if it’s Oscar???

kikagomes : you’re so cute omggg ily

liked by yn_ln

alexandrasaintmleux : my angel deserves to be happy 🦋

liked by yn_ln

—

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc & 1,238,255 others.

oscarpiastri : Been pretty productive lately.

—

username00 : mans is soft launching and is so nonchalant

carlossainz55 : Hell of a season for you so far amigo!

liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri : My good luck charm definitely helps

liked by carlossainz55

username10 : call me delulu but that’s def yn

hattiepiastri : who? what? when?

oscarpiastri : you could’ve just texted bro

hattiepiastri : you never answer your texts

nicolepiastri : or calls

—

The Monaco sun hits hard, even in the morning, but the buzz of the paddock is electric as always—cameras flashing, engines humming in the background, and whispers floating like static. This time, though, it’s not the usual chaos that turns heads.

It’s me.

Walking beside Oscar.

I’m wearing sunglasses, a soft black cap pulled low, and an oversized McLaren hoodie. Not just any hoodie—his hoodie. The number 81 stitched on the sleeve in that unmistakable papaya orange.

Oscar doesn’t say anything when the photographers start snapping. Just glances sideways at me with a small, knowing smile like he expected this.

I shrug. “It was the most comfortable one I had.”

“Sure it was,” he says, gently bumping my shoulder with his.

We pass a few crew members. They nod politely—but their eyes dip to my sleeve.

The whispers start instantly.

“That’s Piastri’s number, isn’t it?”

“Since when are they a thing?”

“I thought she was with—”

“Not anymore.”

Somewhere across the paddock, I catch a glimpse of Lando.

He’s mid-conversation but freezes for a split second when he sees us. His eyes drop to the hoodie, and I don’t miss the way his jaw tightens.

I don’t look away.

Oscar doesn’t either.

He simply says, “You ready?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

He grips tightly onto my hand as we walk through.

—

The podium celebration is chaos—in the best way. Champagne rains down like glitter, the crowd is deafening, and Oscar’s smile is wider than she’s ever seen it. There’s a light in his eyes that wasn’t there a few weeks ago. A quiet, humble pride. He climbs down from the stage, face flushed with adrenaline and joy, and immediately scans the crowd.

And then he sees me. Standing just behind the McLaren garage barrier, still wearing his hoodie, tears in my eyes and the biggest grin on my face.

He doesn’t hesitate.

He pushes through the crowd—crew members cheering, pats on the back, cameras chasing him—and walks straight to me.

“You did it,” i breathe, eyes shining.

“I told you I would,” he says softly, almost in disbelief.

And before either of us can talk ourselves out of it, he leans in and kisses me.

Not rushed. Not messy. Just sure.

The kind of kiss that says finally.

Around us, everything blurs. Reporters stop mid-sentence. Phones come up. Paparazzi lenses refocus. Someone gasps—someone else screams.

It’s official. Public. Real.

When we pull apart, Oscar rests his forehead against mine.

“I wanted to do that for a while.”

I laughed, still a little breathless. “Figured. You did win, after all.”

“Yeah,” he grins. “But I think you’re still my favorite part of today.”

—

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc & 10,279,255 others.

yourusername : finally got a man who can handle having a baddie

—

charles_leclerc : the cutout picture has me rolling

liked by yn_ln

yn_ln : he told me to leave it out

oscarpiastri : i know how lucky i am to have pulled you;)

liked by yn_ln

oscarpiastri : my pretty girl

liked by yn_ln

alexandrasaintmleux: my loves!

liked by yn_ln and oscarpiastri

carlossainz55 : oh this is the good luck charm, huh?😉

liked by yn_ln and oscarpiastri

—

☘️🌿🌎☁️🍃🌱🐢

[cheriedivine]

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Chapter 7

previous | chapter 7 | next

꩜ synopsis: you’re best friends. just best friends. except when she lingers a little too long at your door. except when she calls you her favorite, and it doesn’t feel like a joke. except when her fingers graze yours and neither of you pull away. except when you start to wonder if she’s wondering, too…

꩜ pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (No use of y/n)

꩜ content warnings: smoking, weed, smut (finally)

꩜ WC: 11.7k

꩜ Author’s note: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT AND IM SO TERRIFIED PLZ… also thank u guys for the sweet comments and messages i’m over the moon grateful, this series is so special to me and it’s not even close to be done okay… y’all will get tired of my ass. Anyway enjoy the chapter love u happy pride month<3

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

"Wait, but when did you actually catch feelings for me, though?" you asked for what had to be the millionth time.

Honestly, Ellie didn’t mind repeating herself. If anything, she kind of loved it. The way you always wanted to hear it again, like replaying your favorite song over and over again. Every time she recalled it, she seemed to remember something new. Like the way your eyes lingered just a second too long on hers when you talked, or how your pinkies always seemed to find each other when you sat side by side. Small things. Things she could never forget.

September had slipped by quickly, and in the blink of an eye, October had arrived, trading warm evenings for cooler nights and scattering orange and brown leaves across the sidewalks. It had been a month since your first kiss, (Not like you were counting or whatever). A month of sleepovers, shared sweaters, tangled limbs, nonstop texting, and sneaking into the diner’s back office during your breaks for rushed makeout sessions. Maria had almost banned you from going back there altogether. Ellie had just grinned and said, “Worth the risk.”

“I’ve told you like, a hundred times,” she said now, clearly enjoying the way you whined for her to say it again.

The two of you were tangled up on her couch, limbs lazily thrown over each other. Ellie was supposed to be sorting through prints for her gallery, her best photos from the week. Some from your recent hangouts: walks in the park under trees turned orange, city crosswalks filled with motion blur, candids of you laughing or distracted, the occasional stray cat she couldn’t help but snap. She’d taken the gallery prep seriously. Of course she had to. But lately, it was like you kept happening to her, distracting and consuming in all the best, worst ways.

You sat curled up on the couch, legs tucked under yourself, a book open in your lap, rereading the same paragraph over and over. You weren’t even paying attention to the text. How were you supposed to focus when she looked like that? Her sleeves pushed up, veins visible along her tattooed forearm as she leaned over her table, elbows braced, studying the scattered prints.

“Your death stare is making it very hard for me to analyze these pictures,” she muttered without looking up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm. I can feel it burning a hole through my skull.”

“Can’t help it,” you said, smiling. “You’re too pretty.”

God, the way that made her chest flutter. She shook her head, hiding a tiny smile. Trying to play it cool, but she was already blushing hard. She gathered up the prints and slid them into a folder, then walked over and dropped her full body weight onto you with a dramatic sigh. Her favorite move. Full body crush, almost knocking the air out of your lungs. Face buried in your chest like she could inhale you and forget the gallery pressure altogether.

You didn’t mind. Not even a little. You stroked her hair slowly, gently, like she was fragile, like you knew how much she needed softness. You stayed like that for a while, Ellie breathing you in, inhaling your scent like the oxygen she needed to live, her eyes were closed as you ran your fingers through her hair.

Both of you spent more time together. Even more than before. On the rare day you didn’t hang out because your schedules didn’t align, it felt like a tragedy. Like someone had sent her off to war. It was all so giddy, high school-level giddy. You felt like a teenager again…sneaking out of the group hangs early just to be alone with her. Play-fighting over who had to hang up first. So many dates, even if Ellie still stubbornly insisted on calling them hangouts like it made a difference. You’d been doing the romantic shit before you even kissed.

“C’monnn, just wanna make sure you weren’t secretly foolin’ me or something.” You pouted again, that same little face that made Ellie’s knees weak every time.

Ellie groaned and buried her face deeper into your chest, voice muffled. “I mean, what haven’t I told you?” Then she tilted her face to look up at you, cheeks slightly red from being squished against you.

“When we met I was basically obsessed with you. But I told myself, ‘Don’t be a creep, Ellie. This is why you only have one friend. Stop being delusional.’” She paused, a little smile tugging at her lips. “But with you, everything felt different. Like I didn’t have to hide. Still, I was too stubborn to admit I liked you like that. Lived in constant denial.”

You watched her talk. Taking in every expression, you could study her mouth and eyes for hours and never get bored. The way her brow furrowed when she talked about feelings. The way her voice softened at the edges when she looked at you like this. You’d heard this story before, at least a dozen times. And still, it made something warm unravel in your chest.

“So that explains the flirting with random girls?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in mock interrogation.

She groaned. “I had to cope in some way, plus seeing all those guys hit on you at the diner kinda ripped me apart, but didn’t say anything.”

“I told you,” you said, crossing your arms, “I laugh when I’m nervous. Doesn’t mean I liked it. Plus, I flirted with you all the time. You were just too hard-headed to notice.”

Ellie grabbed the nearest cushion and tossed it at your face.

Which of course triggered a full-blown pillow war.

You wrestled and squealed and laughed until Ellie gave up and surrendered. You were breathless, Ellie’s limbs sprawled on the couch, with you sitting between her legs, flushed and grinning.

And then she grabbed your face, gently leaning in, still catching her breath and kissed you like she’d been waiting all day to do it.

You think about it all the time. How everything but still nothing changed after the kiss, like it was always meant to go this way. There was no big moment or sudden change. Just small things that added up to everything.

Ellie started picking you up after your late shifts, waiting out front in her beat up truck with the heater cranked and a hoodie in the passenger seat for you to throw on. She always claimed you looked better in her clothes, especially that faded blue hoodie, the one she kept pretending she didn’t miss when you “accidentally” took it home.

Your hangouts had shifted into something else. There wasn’t that quiet, aching longing hanging in the air anymore, not in the same way. After that night at your apartment, Ellie promised she’d take you on a date. A real one.

Like the kind you’d gush about in those cheesy movies you love, and what better place to live out a cliché than the fair…where the air was thick with fried grease and too-loud pop music, and where she finally had a decent excuse to hold your hand on the roller coasters.

Neon lights blinked in seizure-inducing patterns while kids screamed on rickety rides in the distance. Ellie had dragged you from booth to booth, fully committed to her vendetta against rigged carnival games.

“I swear this is the one,” she said, squinting at the line of wobbling bottles.

“You said that about the ring toss. And basketball. And the darts.”

Her eyes locked on the duck shooting booth. Yellow plastic ducks glided across a narrow trough, jerking mechanically as bubbles popped around them.

“Oh,” she said, eyes glinting. “This is my game.”

You trailed behind her as she calmly gave the booth guy a crumpled five, taking her jacket off and handing it over to you.

She rolled up the sleeves of her flannel, revealing her forearms, tattoo on full display, veins trailing down to her hands like thunders on a stormy night and took her place at the mounted water gun like it was a sniper rifle.

You blinked. “Oh my god.”

She leaned in. Tongue poking out slightly. Face unreadably focused. Hands gripping the water gun with total control, like she’d done this before, maybe in a past life. The light caught the curve of her jaw just right, and your brain short-circuited.

You started to feel as if you had been lit up in fire, was it hot in here?

Ellie didn’t speak. She just adjusted her stance a little, lips pursed, and let the water stream rip. One by one, the ducks fell, each hit perfectly in the center like she had memorized the timing and rhythm.

By the time the buzzer rang, Ellie had cleared the whole line.

You stared at her, wide eyed. “What the fuck,” you breathed.

Ellie blew imaginary smoke from the tip of the gun. “Told you. My game.”

You gaped. “Are you secretly, like… ex-military?”

“Duck assassin,” she replied coolly, already pointing to a shelf of prizes.

She chose the smallest one, a crooked little stuffed bear with lopsided button eyes and shoved it into your arms in exchange of her jacket, like it wasn’t a big deal, even though she was clearly suppressing a smug smile.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Uh-huh.” She bumped her shoulder into yours. “You like the bear though.”

You did. Stupidly so.

You held it to your chest and muttered, “Yeah I do.”

She was grinning like stupid, tossing her jacket over your shoulders like a shield, as she grabbed your hand and dragged you to the next game.

You still sleep with that bear sometimes. Not that you’d ever tell her.

Another time, it was the planetarium. This one had been your idea, half-jokingly, you didn’t expect much when you pitched it, just a casual “we could go to the planetarium or whatever,” but when the words fell out of your lips Ellie’s eyes gleamed like a kid on christmas morning.

“No way,” she’d said, practically bouncing. “I thought you weren’t into that kind of stuff?”

“Wanna go or no?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m in.”

She’d shown up five minutes early, hair still damp from a rushed shower, hoodie zipped up to her chin, smelling faintly like mint and laundry detergent. Her eyes were wide, childlike, curious, like she wasn’t totally sure what she was about to walk into but her pulse rushed from the thrill.

Inside, the lights dimmed. The dome lit up. Stars bloomed across the ceiling like someone had torn open the sky. Ellie tilted her head all the way back, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “Holy shit,” she whispered. “This is… fucking sick.”

You were already watching her more than the ceiling.

“Knew you’d like it,” you said, voice low.

She didn’t even respond. Just stared upward, entranced, like the stars were spelling out something only she could read.

Halfway through the show, during some slow narration about galaxies forming, you felt her hand brush against yours on the shared armrest. A light graze. Just the backs of your fingers, hesitant at first. Then she slid her pinky over yours, this time more purposeful. Like it was no big gesture, but you felt like the sun was imploding inside of you.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t look at you, just linked your fingers together, her thumb tracing small circles over yours, soft and delicate.

Her voice stayed low the whole time, whispering random facts on your ear, with the sweetest tone, like she couldn’t help herself.

“Neptune’s winds are faster than the speed of sound,” she muttered. “Like… hypersonic. That’s insane.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, too distracted by the glint in her eye.

“And Jupiter’s Great Red Spot is a storm. Like a storm. It’s been raging for three hundred years and it’s big enough to fit Earth inside it, like—” she made a quiet whooshing sound, “—in one bite.”

Her hand squeezed yours a little. Like she got excited and forgot she was even holding you.

You nodded. “That’s… intense.”

She shot you a glance. “You’re not listening, are you?”

She could’ve told you the sun was made of hot dogs and you wouldn’t have noticed. You were too busy staring at her profile, glowing faintly blue under the artificial sky.

“Yeah, no sorry I got a bit lost, what did you say?”

Ellie smirked, a bit shy now. “Nothing.”

She leaned in slightly, placing a quick peck on the top of your head, breathing in your perfume, then turned away, but she saw the smile tug at your lips.

After the show, you walked out into the cool night air, fingers still brushing like they weren’t quite ready to let go.

“I’m not usually, like… a space person. But that was cool.” You said, as you walked out into the night.

Ellie bumped her shoulder into yours. “You’re a space person now. Deal with it.”

You gave her a look, maybe more earnest than you meant it to be. “Only because of you.”

She paused. Looking at you. Then shoved her hands in her hoodie pocket and looked away, clearly fighting a smile.

“Whatever,” she mumbled, ears a little pink. “You’re welcome.”

You both stood there for a second, silent.

But your favorite one was definitely the arcade date. You hadn’t planned it, it was just one of those random afternoons where Ellie showed up at the diner unannounced, leaning against the doorframe waiting for your shift to be over, with that smug little grin of hers.

“You busy?” she asked, truck keys twirling around her fingers.

You weren’t. Not even a little.

The drive was filled with chatter, windows rolled down, music loud, and Ellie’s hand tapping against the steering wheel, like she was playing the backup drums on whatever song was playing. You were both laughing, until you passed a neon sign that read ARCADE & PIZZA, you practically almost turned the wheel yourself.

“Wait Ellie turn around—pull over.”

Ellie flinched. “Okay okay— Jesus you scared me for a second.” You grinned, already unbuckling your seatbelt as Ellie pulled over the parking lot.

“I haven’t been to an arcade since I was like twelve I think” you said as you threw Ellie’s hoodie over your head.

“Wow. Nerd” she snorted, earning a small kick on her heel.

Inside, it smelled like childhood. Pizza and dusty carpets, it was oddly nostalgic. The place was loud, packed with kids and their parents, and a couple of teenagers. Neon lights were blindingly colorful, you felt like your twelve year old self again.

“Alright,” she said, cracking her knuckles dramatically. “Where the competition at?”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe over there, at Jason’s 9th birthday party.” you joked, pointing at the table surrounded by little kids.

Ellie scoffed, “Pffft, easy wins, where is the real competition at?" she glanced over at you.

Oh, you knew where this was going.

“Just say you want to get your ass kicked by me, Williams, not that hard.”

Her grin widened. “You’re on now. Loser pays for the winner’s pizza.”

“Deal.” Both of you squeezed your hands, like you were making some sort of business deal, but this was way more serious.

You didn’t know Ellie had a competitive streak until she practically shoved a 10-year-old out of the way to get to the skee-ball machine.

“Ellie,” you hissed. “You can’t just—”

“He was taking forever,” she snapped, already rolling the ball with deadly focus. “I got shit to prove.”

She won three games in a row.

“Okay, what the fuck,” you growled, staring at the air hockey scoreboard like it had insulted your ancestors. “You’re cheating. There’s no way.”

“You’re just bad,” she teased, throwing the small ball in the air and catching it with her hand. “Maybe I should give you lessons. Private ones.”

“Wow. Cocky.”

“I mean, I did just wipe the floor with you.”

“Oh yeah?” you leaned forward, tempting her, but then you turned around, spotting the motorcycle racing game. Two bikes. One screen. Destiny.

You dragged her over the machine, both mounted the fake bikes revving them like you’d trained your whole lives. Ellie leaned forward, focused her hands gripping the throttle. Her tongue poked out, focused. You knew that look.

Meanwhile you adjusted yourself on the seat, inserting the quarters on the coin slot, your back was slightly arched, causing your shirt to ride up a little and making the small dimples on your lower back visible. Ellie almost fell from her bike at the sight of that. And you weren’t even aware.

“It’s over for you Williams, prepare to eat dust.” you teased.

“You fucking wish.”

The countdown started and the game launched. You took the lead, she trailed behind you, both leaning into turns like you were actually swerving through a neon-lit city. At one moment, your eyes drifted toward Ellie’s arms, her forearm tattoo flexing, adorned by her pulsing veins from gripping the bike handle. God it was unfair—you almost forgot you were in a competition with her.

“Hey, eyes on the road,” she joked, but she was secretly enjoying your staring.

In the end? You won. Throwing your arms up in celebration. “HA. SUCK IT.”

Ellie blinked at the scoreboard in disbelief, “No. Rematch. Right now. My screen lagged.”

“Boohoo excuses are for losers.” you laughed so hard you almost fell off your bike.

The next stop was the dance machine.

Ellie looked skeptical. “I don’t know, dude…”

You were already dragging her by the hoodie. “Nope. No backing out. It’s fate.”

She rolled her eyes but followed. “If I break my ankle, I’m blaming you.”

The game started. The song was fast, the tiles lit up like a rave, and the both of you? Horrible dancers. Absolutely terrible.

You couldn’t stop laughing. Ellie missed the first five steps, almost fell twice, and kept yelling “this is a fucking death trap!” like the machine was out to get her.

But then, something shifted.

Halfway through, she got weirdly into it. Jaw set. Eyes sharp. She started nailing every step, stomping on the lit tiles like she was born in a dancing tournament. She even grabbed your waist at one point, spinning you into position like it was a choreographed number.

“Are you sabotaging me?” you shrieked.

“This is war,” she said, dead serious.

She won that round. You demanded a rematch. She won again.

“Okay,” you panted, doubled over. “You win this one.”

“Jealous.”

“You literally looked like you were summoning demons with your feet.”

“And?”

You played other games after that. Basketball hoops. Whack-a-mole. She tried to win you a prize at the claw machine and got so mad she almost kicked it.

But then— you saw it. The air hockey table.

You gasped. “Oh no.”

Ellie followed your gaze. “Oh yes.”

You both slammed quarters into the machine. Ellie narrowed her eyes, “I’m going to annihilate you.” she said.

You smirked. “You literally just lost the motorcycle race.”

Ellie sighed like a martyr. “Fine. But I’m not holding back.”

“You’ve never held back in your life.”

You both slid your coins in. The machine lit up with that familiar vvvvvmmm of the puck loading up. Ellie rolled her shoulders, cracked her knuckles, and positioned herself like she was about to defuse a bomb. You grabbed your paddle like it was a mortal weapon.

The puck dropped.

The first point? Yours. Quick and clean.

“Fuck yeah!” you whooped, lifting your arms.

Ellie pointed dramatically. “Beginner’s luck.”

The next round? She scored while you were still dancing from your previous win.

“Rude!” you cried.

“Focus up,” she said, eyes glinting.

You both got so intense. The puck clacked across the table like a bullet. Your knuckles started aching from the collisions. Ellie was muttering things like “calculated trajectory” and “this is physics, baby,” which was ridiculous and also extremely hot.

The score climbed. 4 to 4. 5 to 5. 6 to 6.

Final point.

She squinted at you over the rim of the table. “Winner gets a kiss.”

You blinked. “You just made that up.”

“So?”

“…Fair.”

The puck shot out again, and for a moment, everything slowed. Ellie lunged. You twisted your paddle. The puck bounced off the wall—

—and slid right into her goal.

You blinked. Slowly. Then looked up.

Victory.

Ellie just stood there, stunned. Paddle slack in her hand.

“I think you’re choking,” you said softly. “Want some victory soda?”

She groaned, dragging both hands down her face. “I hate this stupid game. This game is rigged. It’s broken.”

“You’re a bad loser, you know that?” you grinned, crossing your arms.

“Can I at least get a consolation prize?” she pouted, and gave her a small kiss on her cheek.

Those memories blurred together now. Warm and fast, like a highlight reel you couldn’t help but replay in your head. The way Ellie had looked at you in the planetarium, her face glowing with stars. The way her tongue poked out when she focused, sleeves rolled up, eyes sharp, and tattoo flexing. The way her hand gripped your waist during that stupid dance game, both of you laughing too hard to breathe.

You hadn’t slept together yet…not all the way, but the tension had started blooming between you in glances and lingering touches and shared hoodies, every moment a little more fragile. All of it, layered like sediment, the slow, quiet shift between friendship and whatever this had become.

Now, Ellie was lying on top of you like a human blanket, gallery prints long forgotten, the curve of her nose pressed into your chest. She was supposedly taking a break,though it had turned into her full-body flopping onto you with all the drama of someone who hadn’t slept in three days. You threaded your fingers through her hair, scratching lightly at her scalp the way you knew she liked. She let out a hum, breath slow and even against your collarbone.

“You’re supposed to be working on your gallery,” you reminded her softly, lips brushing the crown of her head.

“M’working,” she mumbled. “Just horizontally.”

“Ellie.”

She groaned into your chest. “Just five more minutes.”

“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”

“Well now I mean it.”

You smiled despite yourself, thumb brushing over her temple. Her whole body was warm and heavy and tangled with yours, one of her legs slung over both of yours, her arm wrapped lazily around your waist. She wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Ellie sighed dramatically, face still smushed into your chest. “Mmm. Don’t wanna do the gallery. Hate the gallery. Gallery sucks.”

You laughed. “You’re the one who’s been obsessing over it for weeks.”

“Yeah, but right now I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Laying on top of the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Very important.”

You rolled your eyes, heart doing the embarrassing flutter it always did when she said shit like that. You ran your fingers through her hair again, feeling her melt further into you.

There was a pause. Soft. Heavy.

Then Ellie looked up, that specific gleam in her eye that always meant trouble.

“What if we ditched this gallery prep bullshit for a little while?” she said.

You raised a brow. “And do what, exactly?”

“I dunno. Go for a drive. Kidnap a raccoon. Smoke a joint on the beach. Something not involving fluorescent lights and burn out.”

You bit your lip. Thinking about it. The clock blinked past 10 pm. The apartment was quiet. The weight of October air clung outside the windows, thick and chilly.

You sat up slightly. “Wait. Beach?”

Ellie grinned. “Beach.”

You both got up immediately, snatching your jackets and hoodies, slipping into your shoes in a rush. You grabbed your bag as Ellie tossed a blanket at you and snatched her keys before the two of you hurried out of the studio.

The windows were cracked. Your hair whipped around your face in the night wind. Ellie drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting absentmindedly on your thigh, her thumb tracing light circles over the fabric of your jeans.

She looked free, wind in her hair, face lit up by the passing headlights, radio humming low.

You couldn’t stop smiling.

The beach was mostly deserted, just the soft hum of the tide and the faraway glow of streetlights behind you. You hopped out of the truck, the sand sticking on your shoes damp beneath your feet.

Ellie tossed you her hoodie, hitting you straight to your face.

“Hey!”

“You’ll thank me later,” she grinned.

You pulled it on without protest. It smelled like her cologne, warm and familiar. “Thanks.”

“Race you to the shore!” she shouted, already kicking off her boots.

“Wait!” you laughed, fumbling with your own shoes before taking off after her. Your bag bounced against your side with every step, slipping off your shoulder as you ran, breathless and giggling as the cold air filled your lungs.

At one point, Ellie turned suddenly and knocked you off balance, wrapping her arms around you as she spun you both around. You tumbled to the ground in a heap, landing right on top of her, both of you breathless, your cheeks flushed from the cold and the rush of it all.

You turned onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow as you looked at her.

“It’s… really nice out here.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, brushing the sand from her jeans as she stood. Then she held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

You slipped your fingers into hers without hesitation, like muscle memory. Like saying yes to her had always been easy.

The two of you wandered toward the water, the waves stretching out endlessly before you.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you walked, a light breeze brushing over your skin, carrying the scent of salt and earth. Ellie’s jeans were cuffed above her ankles, feet bare, toes sinking into the wet sand beside yours.

She was quiet for a while, and you didn’t rush her. The silence was soft between you, not heavy.

Then, almost like she was thinking out loud, she said, “I think I’m burnt out.”

You glanced over, watching her eyes follow the moonlit waves. “From the gallery?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s like… the more I try to prepare, the more it feels like I’m running on empty. Like I’m squeezing everything out of myself and there’s nothing left to give.” She gave a small laugh, dry and tired. “Kinda pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic,” you said gently. “You’ve been putting your whole heart into it. That’s a lot.”

Ellie didn’t answer right away. She just kept walking.

“Maybe,” you added after a beat, “you don’t need to squeeze anything out. Maybe you just need to breathe a little. Let yourself recharge.”

She looked at you then. Really looked at you. And something in her expression softened.

“Maybe some fresh air is exactly what you needed,” you said, nudging her shoulder lightly. “Who knows—maybe the ocean brings back your inspiration.”

But her inspiration was standing right in front of her, with wide eyes and a soft smile, that same smile that reassured her from her doubts and fears, that made her believe everything was gonna be alright.

Ellie snorted. “Yeah maybe.”

You kept walking a little farther until the sand grew softer and untouched, the sound of the waves a little gentler here. Ellie paused, scanning the area before she pulled the blanket out from where it had been tucked under her arm.

She laid it down carefully, smoothing it out before sinking onto it with a sigh. You sat beside her, legs crossed, watching as she leaned back on her hands and tilted her head toward the sky.

The stars were scattered and quiet tonight. The kind you could get lost staring at without realizing how much time had passed. A breeze passed over you both, cooler now, but comforting. Ellie’s arm brushed yours as she shifted slightly to get more comfortable.

The sound of the waves filled the silence between you, steady and calming. You both had your jeans cuffed, ankles cold and damp from the water. The blanket was barely big enough for two. Your knees were touching.

Ellie was rummaging through the pocket of her jacket with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Boom.”

She held up a perfectly rolled blunt between two fingers like she was revealing a magic trick.

You blinked, then burst out laughing. “You’re gonna get me fired, you know that?”

“Please,” she scoffed, pulling out a lighter, “you can just live with me and be my muse forever. I’ll make you coffee in the mornings. Feed you clementines while you read on the couch.”

She lit the blunt, taking a painfully slow drag, and passed it to you. The smoke curled around her lips and you wanted nothing else but to press yours against hers.

“Muse salary probably sucks.”

“It does,” she admitted. “But the benefits include me and… me, and cuddling 24/7.”

“Wow. How could I resist.”

You took a hit, coughing just a little on the exhale. The haze settled slowly over your limbs, warmth spreading through your chest and cheeks. Time slipped a little sideways.

The blunt moved back and forth between you in a rhythm as natural as breathing. The stars were pinpricks above the ocean, shimmering, scattered, infinite.

Ellie leaned back on her elbows, gaze fixed on the sky. “You ever think about how the light we’re seeing from some of those stars started traveling toward us before the human brain even existed?”

You tilted your head toward her, confused, blinking slowly. “What?”

“Like… we’re looking at the past. Some of those stars could already be dead. We’re just seeing the ghost of them.”

You stared at her, momentarily forgetting about the blunt burning between your fingers.

“You’re literally the nerdiest person I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks. I try.”

The blunt burned lower in Ellie’s fingers, smoke curling around her jawline, eyes soft and half-lidded as she looked at you.

“You’re staring again.” Her voice was low and teasing but not like before. This wasn’t about calling you out. This was about pulling you in.

You didn’t look away. You didn’t even try.

“You look really pretty right now.”

Her brows raised a little, almost surprised. But she didn’t deflect it, didn’t joke it away this time. Just blinked, slowly, lips parting.

She kept going, voice soft and raspy from smoke and salt air. “And Earth moves through space at like, 67,000 miles per hour. Which means no matter what we do, even if we’re just sitting here, we’re still flying through the void. Isn’t that kind of fucked up?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at her. With her messy hair, jeans cuffed like a little boy, freckled face lit up in moonlight and awe. She looked like she belonged up there, with all the stars and the galaxies, floating above you like in a dream. And she kept gesturing toward the sky, completely unaware of the way her words made your ribs tighten.

You blinked slowly, a breath catching behind your teeth.

God. I’m really falling in love with her. Was all you could think about.

Not in the loud, crashing way. Not like the movies. No. This felt quieter. More dangerous. Like something blooming in the dark. Like the soft ache of knowing, really knowing…that if you let yourself, you’d never stop wanting her. Not just her body, not just her kisses. But her.

The way she got really quiet when she was focused. The way she always turned down the volume on her phone before coming into your apartment. How she knew the difference between your tired silence and your mad silence. How she never let your coffee go cold. The way she let you rest your head on her lap without making a big deal about it. The way she touched you like she didn’t realize she was doing it.

Something that always came back. The way she looked at you like maybe, just maybe, she already knew.

You passed the blunt back to her with a shaky hand, trying not to exhale your whole damn soul.

“You okay?” she asked, catching your eyes for a second too long.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to ground yourself. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

She smiled at you, all teeth and freckles and affection. And you were doomed.

You wanted to kiss her and tell her how far fucking gone you were, that she has already ruined you and there is no turning back. Instead, you just smiled, barely.

“You ever just… forget how good this feels?” Ellie asked quietly, her voice rough with honesty. “Like the world gets so loud, and you forget how simple it can be to just stop for a second?”

You turned your head, so you could look at her. “Yeah. I think we forget to stop because we’re scared everything will fall apart if we do.”

Her eyes flicked to yours, gentle and tired. “Yeah...”

You smiled faintly, the sound of the tide folding over itself again in the background. “Guess that’s what fresh air’s good for.”

Ellie huffed a small laugh through her nose, and without thinking, she reached for your hand in the space between you. Her fingers grazed yours before curling around them, warm and sure.

Neither of you said anything after that. You didn’t need to.

She took another drag and leaned her head back to stare at the sky. “Fuck man, I should’ve brought my camera, the view is unbelieveable,”

You sighed dramatically, then reached into your bag. “Oh, Ellie…”

She glanced over, puzzled, until you pulled out her camera and held it up triumphantly.

“No fucking way,” she laughed, sitting up straighter, her entire face lighting up. “You’re the best. Are you kidding me?”

“You think I don’t know you by now?” you said, handing it over. “I saw it sitting by your keys and figured you'd regret leaving it behind.”

She shook her head in disbelief, already adjusting the lens. “God, you’re unreal.”

You blushed, trying to play it cool, but it was impossible with the way she was looking at you—like you were some rare artifact she'd just unearthed.

Then she brought the viewfinder to her eye. “Don’t move.”

You froze. “What?”

“Stay like that,” she said, voice softer now, focused. “You look—just stay.”

The shutter clicked once. Twice. She shifted slightly, capturing you from another angle, then tilted the camera up toward the sky, the stars, the waves behind you. The sound of the shutter was rhythmic and careful, like she was trying to memorize every second.

She lowered the camera slowly, then looked at you again, really looked. The way the moonlight enhanced your features and the air blew your hair in all the right directions, like slow motion, she couldn’t hold herself back, she didn’t have to anymore.

Ellie leaned in, cupping your face in both hands, her thumbs brushing just beneath your cheekbones. Her touch was warm and steady, like she was grounding herself through you.

Then she kissed you. Firm and certain.

It wasn’t soft, not this time. It was hungry. Her lips moved against yours with purpose, urgency threading through every second. You melted into her touch instantly, your hands finding her waist and pulling her closer until there was no space left between you.

Her hand came up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, her blunt abandoned somewhere in the sand beside you. And you kissed her back like you could bury the ache under your tongue and hope she didn’t feel the way you melted against her.

She tasted like weed, salt and chapstick and something inherently her. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of her jacket, clinging to her like she was the only thing tethering you to the earth.

When you shifted, she followed, leaning into you as the kiss deepened, her hand slipping to the back of your neck, thumb still grazing your skin like she couldn’t stop touching you.

You broke apart just long enough to breathe, foreheads pressed together, your lips brushing as you smiled against her mouth.

She looked at you through half-lidded eyes, flushed and dazed. “You’re so fucking pretty,” she murmured. “It’s not fair.”

And when you finally pulled back, she didn’t move far, her forehead bumped gently against yours, eyes still closed. Neither of you said anything for a moment. You just breathed together.

“We should probably…” she whispered, voice hoarse, like she wasn’t sure where that sentence was going.

“Go home?” you offered, a little breathless, a little terrified.

Her eyes opened, hazy and low-lidded.

“Yeah. Home.”

But her fingers didn’t leave your cheek right away. And when you finally stood, brushing sand off your jeans, folding the blanket with shaking hands and adjusting your bag, you felt Ellie’s hand on your wrist.

“Wait.”

You turned just in time for her to grab your waist and hoist you up with a laugh, throwing you over her shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“Ellie!” you shrieked, kicking your legs, your fists beating half-heartedly against her back. “You’re gonna make me fall on my ass!”

“Relax,” she snorted. “I’ve got you.”

Your voice was muffled by your own laughter, face buried in the fabric of her jacket.

She finally set you down by the car, both of you breathless with laughter, your heart was still thudding from more than just the chaos. Her hand lingered at the small of your back as you climbed in, and you sat there for a second, staring out at the ocean one last time, still high from the weed and the kiss.

The car ride home was awfully quiet. But not the kind that meant nothing was happening. It was the kind of quiet that pulsed. That built up like crashing waves.

Ellie’s hand had been resting on your thigh the whole way. Her thumb traced slow, lazy circles into your skin over the fabric of your jeans, and the warmth of her touch was burning through you.

You shifted in your seat. Crossed and uncrossed your legs, then stilled, because the pressure of her hand there firm, warm, claiming, was making your brain short circuit.

The music was low. Just a beat, pulsing through the speakers. Her fingers flexed slightly against your thigh every time the bass dropped. You didn’t even know what song was playing. Neither of you said anything. But your skin was on fire, your mouth dry, and the only thing you could focus on was how badly you wanted her. Right here. Right now. And it was obvious, painfully, dangerously obvious…that she felt it too.

All you could think about was her mouth. The way she’d kissed you back on the beach. The way she tasted. The way her hand had cradled your jaw like you were precious and hers and ruinable all at once.

Your breath caught in your throat when her fingers squeezed your thigh a little, just enough. But she didn’t say anything. Just kept driving. Eyes focused on the road. Her lips parted, jaw set tight. Like she was holding herself back from something.

When she parked, neither of you moved.

A beat passed.

Then two.

And then you opened the door, heart hammering.

Ellie was behind you in a second, grabbing the blanket, your bag, the abandoned water bottle in the cupholder. And still, somehow, her hand found the small of your back as she guided you inside.

By the time she pushed open her apartment door, something had already shifted.

Because the second it clicked shut behind you…She dropped everything. Your bag hit the floor. The blanket was halfway off your arm when her hands grabbed your waist and yanked you in like she’d been starving.

Your back hit the wall with a soft thud. Her lips found yours instantly. Messy, hot, urgent.

You gasped, one hand flying to her shoulder, the other tugging at her jacket like it offended you that she was still wearing it.

The weed still in your system made everything so much more intense. Her mouth, her scent, the drag of her hands over your waist. It was like every nerve in your body had been rewired just for her.

She kissed you like she was burning up, rushed, teeth knocking, too much tongue, but somehow that just made it better. Sloppier. Desperate.

You smiled against her mouth, and her hand immediately grabbed your jaw, angling your face the way she wanted.

Your fingers dug into her shoulders, dragging her closer. “Ellie—”

“Yeah?” Her voice was ragged. Her lips brushed your jaw. Your throat. Your collarbone.

“Your room—”

You didn’t finish the sentence. Because she kissed you again, like she already knew.

You both stumbled messily toward her room, laughter and breath tangled between kisses. Ellie’s fingers tightened around your hand, grounding herself in the feeling of your skin. Her head was spinning, not just from the weed but from the fact that this was real. You were here, touching her like you needed her.

She silently thanked herself for tidying up earlier, the faint scent of cedarwood and laundry detergent curling around the space like an invitation. There were no distractions. Just you, her, and the electric charge buzzing between every touch. You kicked off your shoes without thinking, and she was already guiding you back, hands firm at your waist as she gently eased you onto the bed. Her body followed, urgent, reverent, starved—lips crashing against yours like waves meeting the shore. You didn’t hesitate. You pulled her closer. She hovered for just a beat, eyes devouring the sight of you, flushed and waiting.

No lens could ever even come close to capturing the way her eyes saw you, the glistening on your face, with your pupils dilated and lips puffy, something holy worth waking up to, like a small prayer whispered before risking everything you got.

She didn’t waste any second, she was all over you, like smoke lingering in the air after you’d shared a cigarette. Intimate. Sharing the object that had been around your lips and hers, she always inhaled a little too hard, like maybe she could taste you through the nicotine filling her lungs.

But now she could have you. In this moment, she laid on top of you, and you were looking at her with those wide, doe eyes. And right now, nothing else in this room, or in this world, mattered. You were waiting for her just as much as she had waited for you.

Your fingers grazed her collarbone, tugging slightly at the fabric of her shirt, pulling her in, as if you’d die if you didn’t taste her in this second, like your life depended on it. She reciprocated, lips hungry—slow, memorizing the crevices of your mouth, giving you entrance to her own, tongues swirling around, slow dancing together.

Ellie cupped your face, her calloused fingertips rough against your tender skin, tickling your flushed cheeks. She trailed kisses from your lips to your jaw, her mouth hot and open tingling on every spot, you sat up slightly, and Ellie took it as her cue to lower her lips to your neck, warm breath hovering the flesh of your neck, as she left open mouth kisses, like she was trying to memorize the rhythm of your pulse with her lips.

Your hands were tangled on her auburn hair, fingers pulling softly with each kiss.

A small moan slipped past your lips, you tried to cover it by snuggling your face into Ellie’s neck, but she noticed.

And oh lord—she wanted to replay that little sound for the rest of her life.

Something shifted in her. Primal. She was starving for you. She needed to cover every inch of your skin with her mouth, trace a map across your body, taking note of every sweet spot that made you squirm under her.

God she was high on you, just by kissing. Pathetic.

You pulled back to look at her again, and the look she gave you?

Fuck. It was unraveling you.

Slowly, you pressed your lips to hers again, the kiss deepened. Messy, sloppy, perfect.

Hands roamed slow and lazy, tangled in fabric and hair, fingers trailing like they had nowhere else to be. Then, suddenly, the weight shifted. You felt an arm slide beneath your back, the other steadying you both. And before you could say something , Ellie pulled you up, lifted like you weighed nothing and settled you gently into her lap. Your thighs bracketed hers now, knees sinking into the bed, your lips still locked together.

Now both of you were chasing dominance with your tongues, breathy moans and low groans spilling between kisses. Ellie's hands rested on each side of your hips, gripping the soft flesh, digging her fingers into your skin.

Meanwhile you lowered your hands down to her stomach, slipping under her shirt. Her skin was warm and soft, so soft. You traced little circles with your fingertips as your hands traveled to her back.

Ellie broke the kiss for a second, catching her breath, and when her eyes met yours, she knew—

You needed her as much as she needed you.

She gave you a small nod— permission, and you took it as a welcome sign.

You lifted her shirt slowly, as if you were giving her the chance to say something, to stop you. But she didn’t. She raised her arms letting you tug it off completely and tossed it aside. Bare freckled skin now only framed by the black sports bra she wore, muscles tensing from the shyness she suddenly felt.

She followed immediately, helping you out of your shirt, leaving you in your bra. Ellie had been waiting for this moment since that night she’d accidentally caught a glimpse through your door. The image of your bare back, the strap of your bra. It had been burned into her memory ever since.

She was so caught up in that thought, she didn’t even realize when you shifted your weight completely and she was now the one lying beneath you, with your knees caging her hips.

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat, her hands instinctively settling on your clothed thighs. You could feel her heartbeat pounding beneath your palms, a steady drum that matched your own. She looked up at you like you were a miracle. Her pupils were blown, partly from you and from the weed, lips parted, and you could see the faintest tremble in her chest as she tried to keep her breathing even.

You dipped your head, brushing your lips over hers, soft and slow. A kiss like a secret. One she’d never tell anyone else but you. You pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes—her lashes fluttered, lips chasing yours, already missing the contact.

Her hands moved, skimming up your thighs, slipping under the hem of your bra strap. Her touch was reverent, like she didn’t quite believe this was real.

“You’re so…” she whispered, voice barely there, but the rest of the sentence vanished in your mouth as you kissed her again. Deeper this time, your tongue sliding past her lips, tasting her like she was something you needed to survive.

Your hips shifted, rocking forward just slightly, and the sound Ellie made.

Fuck.

A soft, breathless whimper was enough to make your head spin.

Her fingers dug into your waist, pulling you closer, anchoring you to her. You could feel her muscles tense beneath you, her body responding to every inch of you.

“Tell me this is real,” she breathed, voice cracking around the edges, raw and so full of need it made your chest ache.

“It’s real,” you whispered against her lips. “I’m here.”

You leaned down again, trailing kisses along her jaw, down her neck, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. Ellie let out a shaky exhale, her hands sliding up your back, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine.

You smiled, teeth grazing her collarbone. Ellie groaned softly, arching into you as your kisses grew messier, more urgent, like you were trying to mark her soul with your mouth. She let you take your time, let you explore her inch by inch like she was sacred territory.

When you sat up again, her hands followed your movement. One trailing along your ribs, the other cradling your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek. The way she was looking at you then? Like you were starlight. Like she’d never let anyone else touch you the way she did.

You leaned into her touch and whispered, “You okay?”

Ellie nodded, eyes glassy, lips swollen, chest rising and falling like she’d just run a mile.

“Better than ever.” She looked completely undone, flushed cheeks, strands of hair sticking to her forehead, eyes drunk on the sight of you.

You leaned in slowly, like you were about to worship her. Your lips ghosted over hers, brushing once, twice, teasing. Cruel. And when you finally kissed her, it was all teeth and tongue, heat and hunger.

She groaned into your mouth, hands sliding up your sides and gripping your waist like she was trying to keep herself grounded to the moment. But she couldn’t, not while you were grinding down on her, slowly, hips rolling just enough to make her curse against your lips.

“Fuck—” she gasped, breaking the kiss as her head fell back into the pillow, exposing the long line of her neck.

You didn’t waste the opportunity.

You pressed your mouth to her throat, biting softly just below her jaw, then trailing your tongue over the spot like an apology. Her fingers slipped under the band of your bra, thumbs brushing over the underside of your breasts, breath coming out in shallow, desperate pants.

“You’re driving me fucking insane,” she muttered, voice rough and broken.

You pulled back to look at her, lips wet and a little swollen, eyes hazy.

“Yeah?” you whispered, breath brushing her cheek. “What are you gonna do about it?”

That lit something in her. She sat up just enough to crash your mouths together again, teeth clashing, tongue tangling with yours in a messy, frantic kiss. One of her hands slid down, gripping your ass, pulling your body harder against her lap, hips bucking up with zero shame.

You gasped into her mouth, nails dragging down her back, and Ellie cursed again. Low, and filthy.

“Can I?” she whispered into your mouth, hands moving to unclasp your bra, her voice trembling with restraint.

You let her—let her strip you bare, skin flushed and burning. She stared for a second, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, then she leaned forward and kissed the top of your breast, slowly, her mouth trailing lower. Her tongue flicked across your nipple and your head fell back with a moan, hips grinding down on instinct, desperate for friction.

Ellie groaned when she felt it, her hands grabbing your waist and helping you move, guiding you to rock against her in slow, aching circles.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her voice wrecked. “Just like that.”

Your hands tangled in her hair, tugging with each roll of your hips. Every kiss got sloppier, every sound louder, every breath more frantic. Ellie was everywhere—mouth on your chest, hands gripping your ass, hips thrusting up into you like she couldn’t fucking help it.

You felt drunk on her—on the heat, the pressure, the want of it all. And when she looked up at you again, eyes glassy, lips slick, it was over for you.

“I need you,” you said, barely audible, but it was enough.

Her hands stilled, holding you there. “You have me.”

Ellie was already breathless beneath you, her cheeks flushed, lips kissed swollen, chest rising and falling like she’d just run for miles, but it was nothing compared to what you were about to do to her.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against hers again, slower this time. A whisper of a kiss, soft and drawn out, like you were trying to memorize the way her mouth felt…like you had all the time in the world. And you did. This was yours. She was yours.

From her lips, your mouth began its descent, trailing to the edge of her jaw, to the spot just beneath her ear that made her inhale sharply. You kissed down her neck, stopping at the hollow of her throat to leave a lingering, open-mouthed kiss there. Your tongue grazed the skin, slow and warm. She whimpered, her hand instinctively gripping the sheets.

Your kisses continued down, over the curve of her collarbone, across the center of her chest. You mouthed over the black fabric of her sports bra, feeling the way her breath hitched when your teeth grazed her nipple through the fabric.

“Fuck,” she whispered, squirming slightly beneath you. “You’re—teasing.”

You didn’t say anything. You just smiled against her skin and kept going.

You pressed soft kisses down her stomach. Pausing just above her belly button, letting your breath tickle her skin. Every inch you touched left her gasping, her muscles twitching under your mouth. You looked up at her then, eyes locking with hers. She was already gone. Lips parted, gaze completely fixated on you.

Still not breaking eye contact, you reached the waistband of her pants. Your fingers toyed with the button, and you watched her nod without saying a word.

You undid them slowly, dragging them down her legs, eyes never leaving hers. She lifted her hips to help you, the soft hiss that left her lips making your thighs clench. You peeled them off, tossing them aside, leaving her in nothing but her dark boxers. The sight in front of you left you in awe, legs trembling, laid out just for you was enough to make your core ache.

But you weren’t done yet.

You leaned in again, kissing along the sharp lines of her hips. One side, then the other. Slowly. Warmly. Her hands fisted the sheets, a sharp gasp escaping her lips when you mouthed at the sensitive skin right at the waistband, trailing down to place an open mouth kiss to the wet spot of her boxers. You looked up again—still holding her gaze, and hooked your fingers into the fabric.

“Okay?” you murmured.

She nodded quickly. “Yes. Fuck—please.”

Still keeping your eyes locked with hers, you reached for the waistband of her boxers and pulled them down, slow and careful, exposing her inch by inch. Ellie lifted her hips again, obedient and trembling, and you slid them down until she was bare in front of you.

You could’ve stopped just to stare. Her thighs were slightly parted, her breathing ragged, her tattoo curling along her forearm as she gripped the sheets. She looked like she could cry just from the anticipation.

You settled between her legs and let your fingers slide through her folds, wet, warm, already soaked. She gasped, hips jerking slightly.

“This all for me?” you asked, fingers teasing but not entering.

“Shut up,” she rasped, her voice thin, wrecked. “You know it is.”

You smirked, leaned in, and kissed her hip again, just to be cruel. Then, slowly, you pushed two fingers into her.

The way her mouth dropped open, the way her brows pinched like it physically hurt to feel this good, you never wanted to forget it. You curled your fingers just slightly, hitting the spot that made her whimper.

You kept your eyes on hers, and when her lips parted in another moan, you leaned in close, your voice a whisper. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

Ellie looked ruined with her hair spread across the pillow, hand covering her mouth now, trying to quiet the sounds that kept spilling out of her. But she couldn’t stop them. Not when you were fucking her this slow, this deep, your palm pressing against her clit with each thrust.

“Don’t hide,” you murmured. “I wanna hear you.”

You fucked her slow, deliberate, dragging your fingers in and out while your thumb circled her clit. Her hips moved with yours, chasing the friction, her thighs twitching with every movement.

“God—fuck, that’s it—don’t stop,” she breathed. Her voice was high, strained, like she was barely holding it together.

You sped up just slightly, enough to make her cry out. Her hands clutched your forearms now, nails digging leaving half crescent moons in your skin. She moaned again. Loud, desperate, and you knew she was close.

“Come on, Els,” you whispered. And somehow that made her walls clench harder against your fingers, pulsating with every thrust.You started speeding up, hitting just the right angle, her back arched and she choked on your name.

“I’m—fucking—fuck—” Her whole body tensed, then shattered. Back arching off the bed, head thrown back, a moan breaking open in her chest. You leaned in, kissing her as she came, swallowing her moans, keeping your rhythm until she was trembling beneath you. You only pulled out once her body stopped twitching. Then, with your eyes never leaving hers, you slipped your fingers into your mouth and licked them clean, savoring her orgasm

You grinned as you dragged your fingers out with that small “pop”.

Ellie choked on a gasp, eyes wide, pupils blown.

She didn’t waste a second.

After your little display and those fucking eyes locked on hers while you tasted her off your fingers…Ellie snapped. She rolled you onto your back like a rag doll, with a roughness that wasn’t aggressive, just desperate. Her mouth was on yours immediately, hands framing your jaw, tongue sliding in as if she couldn’t get deep enough.

“Mine,” she murmured, almost to herself, between kisses. “You’re fucking mine.”

Ellie hovered over you, flushed and breathing hard, her skin glistening, her eyes blown wide with lust and awe and something deeper—something that cracked you open just by looking at you like that. You were still panting from making her come apart on your fingers, but that didn’t stop her from slipping her hands under your thighs and flipping you onto your back, her mouth crashing against yours in a hungry, lingering kiss that tasted like heat and desperation.

“You think I’m gonna let you get away with that?” she rasped against your lips, her voice low and breathless. “No fucking way–”

Your breath caught. Your legs instinctively parted around her hips, your hands clutching at her arms, the muscles flexing beneath your fingers. Ellie leaned in, pressing kisses to your jaw, then your throat, open-mouthed and wet, letting her tongue drag along the curve of your neck.

You arched into her instinctively when her lips brushed your collarbone, then went lower. She kissed between your breasts, and you felt the cool air and her hot, roaming gaze, addicting.

“So pretty,” she murmured, her voice gone thick. “Fucking perfect.”

She wrapped her lips around one of your nipples, sucking slowly, letting her tongue flick over it before biting down just enough to make you gasp. Her hand came up to play with the other, thumb circling, pinching, teasing, until you were whining, thighs rubbing together beneath her.

And she wasn’t even close to done.

She switched sides, kissing the curve of your breast before giving the same treatment to the other nipple, slower this time, messier. Her teeth grazed your skin, and then she trailed lower…tongue dragging down your ribs, over your stomach, leaving tiny wet patches and hot breath in her wake.

But she didn’t rush. She took her time, leaving small hickeys on your chest, just above your heart, another on the soft swell beneath your breast, and one lower, just to the side of your belly button. She wanted to mark you, and she wanted you to feel it every time your shirt brushed against those spots later.

By the time she reached the waistband of your jeans, you were trembling.

She looked up at you from between your thighs, and fucking hell you could’ve just cummed at the sight of her beautiful green eyes looking at you like that, all desperate and needy, hands sliding to your hips.

“Still ok?” she smirked.

You could barely form words. Just a breathless, desperate nod.

She undid your jeans slowly, dragging the zipper down with purpose, fingers teasing at the waistband as she leaned in to kiss your lower belly, just above the fabric. You lifted your hips so she could tug them down, and she did—carefully, kissing every new inch of exposed skin. Your thighs, your inner knees, the dip just above your underwear. You were soaked already, and Ellie saw it, smelled it, her breath hitching.

“Fuck, look at you.”

She pressed a single kiss to the front of your panties, right over your clit. You whimpered, bucked into her mouth, and she just chuckled low, mouthing at the wet fabric. Her tongue dragged over it once, then again, leaving it wetter with her spit. Then she sucked at it, lightly, then harder right through the cloth, until you were gasping, your hips twitching beneath her grip.

“Tastes so fucking good, even through this.”

She hooked her fingers in the waistband and tugged them off in one smooth motion, tossing them aside without looking. Then she kissed your thigh again, and again, and again, until you were practically begging.

Then finally—finally, she spread you open with both hands and dove in.

Her tongue flattened against your pussy and dragged up in one slow, singular motion, like she wanted to study your body with her mouth. She moaned into you at the taste, low and guttural. Like it relieved something inside her. Her tongue flicked against your clit, soft and rhythmic, then she pulled back just long enough to spit on it, watching the mess drip and smear as she dove back in.

Your head fell back against the pillow.

“Ellie—fuck—”

She hummed again, arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you still, her face buried so deep you could feel her breath inside you. Her tongue teased your entrance, then pressed inside you, slow and firm, while the tip of her nose rubbed against your clit with every movement. Hitting just the right angle.

You gripped her hair hard, really hard. And she just groaned into your pussy like it made her wetter, grinding her own hips into the mattress while she fucked you stupid with her tongue and sucked your clit in between.

The tension coiled fast and hard in your stomach, your thighs beginning to tremble. Ellie felt it. And added two fingers without warning, curling them up just right, and doubled down with her tongue until you broke, cumming hard with a growly cry, hips jerking on her face, your hands pulling her impossibly closer.

But Ellie didn’t stop.

She didn’t even slow down.

She fucked you through it, licking up every drop, moaning into you like she’d drown there happily.

When she finally pulled back, her chin and lips were shining. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, breathing heavy, pupils dark and starving. Then she crawled up your body and kissed you, deep and messy, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

“Didn’t get enough,” she panted against your lips. “Need you again.”

You felt her hips roll down into yours, and then again, more intentional, needy. You looked down.

She was already grinding against you, bare now, both of your slick combining. Your thighs instinctively spread wider, and Ellie settled between them, her cunt sliding against yours, hot and sticky and so fucking wet.

You gasped. “Oh my God—”

The friction was instant. The way your clits brushed together made you both cry out. She grabbed your thigh, threw it over her hip, angling you just right. Then she started to move, grinding slow and deep, her forehead pressed against yours, her breath stuttering every time your bodies slipped perfectly together.

“Feels so fucking good,” she groaned. “Shit—you’re perfect—”

You couldn’t even respond. You were too caught up in it. In the slippery, desperate rub of her cunt on yours, the raw eye contact, the sweat and tension and whimpers she couldn’t hold back.

Your hands clutched her back, your legs wrapped around her waist, and you met every grind with one of your own. You were soaked, overstimulated, and yet completely insatiable.

Ellie’s voice cracked as she picked up the pace, her hips stuttering, her sounds getting louder, higher.

“You gonna come again with me?” she begged, voice strained. “Please—fuck. I wanna feel you come on me.”

You nodded frantically. You could already feel it, your second orgasm, rolling in fast. Your muscles tensed, your thighs clenched around her, and then—

You both came.

Harder than before. Together.

Her body collapsed onto yours, her face buried in your neck, both of you shaking and soaked and breathless.

The room is quiet, save for the low hum of the fan in the corner and the echo of your breaths slowly syncing again. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and skin, heat still clinging to both of you, but you’re not in a rush to pull away.

Ellie’s lying on her back, arm stretched out, inviting, and you settle into her side without thinking, thigh slung over her hip, your chest rising and falling against hers. Her skin is still warm. Damp in places. You let your fingers wander on her skin, tracing the soft, faded scars scattered across her stomach.

She doesn’t flinch.

Instead, her hand finds your waist, and she’s holding onto you like she needs the reassurance that you’re real. That you’re still here.

Your fingertip drags in slow circles, skimming across her ribs, then trailing down again, stopping to gently trace the outline of a small mark near her navel. You wonder where she got it. If it hurt. If she ever thought to tell you.

Still, neither of you says anything. You shift slightly, arm draped across her middle now, and your other hand finds her forearm, the ink there familiar beneath your touch. You trace the edge of her tattoo, carefully, like you’re memorizing it with your skin.

Ellie’s breathing deepens. You feel it in the way her chest rises under your cheek, the way her thumb starts brushing gentle lines across the bare of your back.

And then, softly, almost like a thought slipping out by accident, she finally speaks.

“You are the most beautiful girl on this planet—” A pause. A breath. “No. This universe.”

You scoff, letting your lips curve into a smirk against her skin.

“Pffft—You say that to every girl you sleep with?” you mumble, teasing, but your voice comes out quieter than you meant. Too full of feeling.

Ellie huffs a laugh, but you feel the shift in her body. She’s still smiling, but there’s something quieter behind it, more serious. Something heavy in her chest that she doesn’t quite let out yet.

“No girl has gotten lucky enough.”

You lift your head, just slightly, eyes meeting hers.

She’s not grinning. Not smirking.

She’s looking at you like she wants to kiss you all over again, but not in a way that’s messy or frantic or lustful.

She’s just there. Staring. Open. Soft.

And you don’t say anything back.

You just curl into her again, one hand resting on her chest where her heart is beating like a marching band, the rhythm of her palpitations calms you down. And she lets you stay there. Quiet. Wrapped in each other like neither of you know how to ask for more. Even though it’s already written all over your skin.

Sunlight slips lazily through the slats in the blinds, casting pale golden stripes across the tangled sheets. Ellie stirs, arm reaching out instinctively to the other side of the bed, but it’s empty now. Still warm, just barely. She blinks groggily, eyes adjusting to the morning light, her limbs heavy with sleep and muscle ache.

There’s a second where panic flickers through her.

Did you leave? Was everything just a dream?

But then she smells you on her pillow. Faint traces of your shampoo, your skin, your sweat from the night before, and the corner of her mouth tugs upward, soft and slow.

She turns her head and sees it.

A little piece of paper on her desk, scrawled in your handwriting.

“Headed to work. U looked too cute to wake up. Pass by the diner if ur not busy ;)”

Ellie stares at it for a minute, then flips onto her back, one arm thrown over her eyes as a smile overtakes her entire face. It’s the kind of smile she couldn’t hide even if she tried.

Stupid. Giddy. Lightheaded.

You.

Her mind plays it all back in bits, your mouth, your hands, your body pressed to hers like it had always belonged there. The way you looked at her like you were afraid to blink and miss her. The way you touched her, so safe and sure, like you were tracing art into her skin.

And now you were just… gone.

Gone, but not far.

Her eyes flutter open again. The note’s still there. The sheets are still messy. Her chest still feels full in that unfamiliar, aching way. She sighs, long and dreamy, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

When she finally sat up, her hair was a mess, body sore in the best way. The note is still clutched between her fingers, and she reads it once more for no reason other than the way it makes her stomach flip.

She stretches, smiling like an idiot, already thinking about what she’ll say when she sees you again. Already wondering how she’s supposed to act around you now. Already imagining the way your face lights up when she walks into the diner.

Had she mentioned how irrevocably fucked she was? So completely, irreversibly, stupidly fucked for you.

How she felt like she dug a grave for herself, how this would either be the best thing ever or the worst heartbreak of her entire fucking life. And she didn’t wanna think about it, because she’s scared as shit.

She’s scared of herself more than anyone.

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

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[maddamoiselle]

The Weight of Wanting You

Pairing: Caleb x NonMC!Reader Synopsis: You fell for each other in pixels and whispers—never realizing you had already crashed into each other every day in real life.

Tags: Enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, university AU, slow burn( I hope) Author's nonsense : Here is the next chapter. I won't lie, i really enjoy it even if it was difficult to write everything in that chapter. I hope you will enjoy. it. Words: 6769 <- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Chapter III: Weightless, For a Moment

“ What do you think, doctor? What can you tell me about these?”

Zayne was staring at your pills, moving it between his gloved fingers. His eyes were cold as usual, not showing any information that would make you feel better or worse. His impassible face never betrays any thoughts.

”What are they for? I see no name on it.”

”Yeah. My dad gives them to me. Says they help with focus and stabilising my Evol. But… I don’t know.”

You could see it already— the shift in his posture, the fickler in his eyes. He was reading between the lines.

”You think he is lying?”

You paused. There was no judgment in his voice, just curiosity. You didn’t want to say it out loud, but since Caleb had said that your father was working with Ever…. 

Why were you trusting his words more than your own father’s?

”I don’t know Zayne…”

Zayne stared at you before going behind his desk. His finger flew on his keyboard, watching his computer’s screen seriously. 

“Then leave this with me until tonight. I’ll run a full analysis at the lab.”

You smiled at your best friend before hugging him, your arms wrapping around his shoulder as he kept his eyes on his computer. He tapped your arms twice with a slight smile before you back away.

You took your bag, getting ready to ride back to Skyheavan. Why did Zayne's office have to be in Linkon? It would be easier to meet with him if he was closer to SkyHavan..

After finally being back on campus, you put your earbuds in your ears and went for a walk.  You checked on your phone if you had any notification from discord but the last message you had gotten from your friend was that he was sick.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (5:23): im sick 

Grav1ty.D3n1ed  (5:23) : can you believe that ?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (5:23): i couldn't finish my jog because i almost faint

WindQueen.exe (6:12): sorry I just woke up :( i didn't see your message

WindQueen.exe (6:12): no you need anything?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (7:00): holding your hand tonight? :(

When you had received this message this morning, you had chuckled. But it was already past noon and you still haven't received any message since.

Was he feeling that bad?

Maybe you could ask him where his sister was, and maybe you could bring him something to eat..? Or maybe—

“ There she is ! Quickly, Caleb!”

You turned your head toward the voice that shouted your name. You couldn't help but frown at the view of Caleb and his girlfriend. She was waving at you with a big smile, rushing toward you while Caleb was staring at you.

He didn’t seem to feel good…He looked pale. Jaws tensed. There was a faint sheen on his forehead, like he was sweating despite the wind.

But who cared?

“We were looking for you! I wanted to invite you for dinner at our place.”

Huh?

”Huh?”

You took off one of your earbuds. Did you hear correctly?

Your gaze drifted to Caleb. He was staring at you, then looked away. He wasn’t saying anything. Didn’t argue. But something about the way he was holding himself screamed: that wasn’t my idea.

You couldn’t help but smirk. 

Time for revenge.

If Caleb thought you wouldn’t get revenge for his words from yesterday and that he went through your stuff? He was greatly mistaken.

”I would love to!”

Caleb’s brow twitched. Just for a second but you caught it. The look he gave you made you smile brighter.

”R-really? I’ll send you the address, it’s in Linkon! We will use ou— my grandma’s house!”

“Linkon? No worries, I know my way there.” You smirked, letting his girlfriend add your number in her phone. You glanced at Caleb, giving him your most innocent smile.

He didn’t say a word. 

His eyes narrowed slightly. Like he was trying to figure out what kind of game you were playing. You winked at him before taking back your phone from his girlfriend.

”Then, I’ll see you! You can come around 4pm!”

4pm? Wasn’t it too early for dinner?

 You nodded at her while she was trying to send you a message, making sure she noted your number correctly. Caleb leaned toward your ear, his lips stretching in his usual polite smile while his girlfriend was yapping to the two of you, her eyes on her phone.

“Didn’t take your pills today? You’re more of a pain in the ass than usual.”

You beamed at him before bringing your hand to his forehead. He wanted to play? Let’s play then.

“Awn, Caleb, are you okay? You look a bit sick…”

You didn’t expect to feel him burning against your palm. Not just a little warm. Fever-hot.

Your eyes widened while he took a step back, quicker than you expected. He was looking at you like he was daring you to say anything. You glanced at his girlfriend before nodding at him.

He did not want his pipsqueak to worry… That was cute in a way.

“You’re seriously ill,” you said quietly. “And you’re just pretending you’re not?”

He shrugged.

“You’re seriously annoying. And you’re not pretending at all.”

But the edge was softer than before. A little… off-balance.

And you knew he felt it too — that split second when your fingers touched his skin and his walls almost dropped.

Just for a breath.

“Then, should we go?”

You didn’t know how it happened, but Caleb’s girlfriend tugged you with them asking if you were okay with coming with them to do some groceries shopping. You wanted to refuse but as soon as you spotted Caleb’s expression, you accepted with a huge smile.

Then your body tensed.

Fuck, you were supposed to meet with your discord’s friend tonight! You checked your phone and couldn’t help being even more worried as you still haven’t received any message from him.

The wind has picked up again. You were walking slowly, half-listening to his girlfriend chatting beside you. Caleb was a few steps behind, as usual — quiet, unreadable.

But your fingers were already in your pocket, wrapped around your phone.

You opened Discord like a nervous tic.

Still no reply from Grav1ty.D3n1ed.

That last message—

"Grav1ty.D3n1ed (7:00): holding your hand tonight? :(?"

It had been hours.

You hesitated. Then type:

 WindQueen.exe (12:59): still alive?

WindQueen.exe (12:59): should i start drafting your digital memorial post?

You hit send and tried not to overthink it.

You almost pocketed the phone again when the typing bubble appeared.

Your chest fluttered — ridiculous, but real.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:00): barely alive. 3% battery and 1% human

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:00): but your message just boosted me to 2%

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:00): congrats. you’re medicinal

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. You were so relieved he had answered so quickly but it also meant he wasn’t resting properly.

 WindQueen.exe (13:01):  wow. my therapist would be so proud

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:01): seriously tho

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:01): it’s dumb how much that helped

 WindQueen.exe (13:02):  yeah well

WindQueen.exe (13:02): i’d kinda rather you didn’t die

WindQueen.exe (13:02): even if you are insufferable

A pause. Then:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:02): i’ll stay alive

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:02): if only to keep being insufferable to you

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (13:02): deal?

You bite your lip. The smile couldn’t go away. How could his words make you feel so at ease when you were currently with Caleb and his girlfriend going to the shop to prepare dinner.

Weren’t you supposed to be the guest? Why were you here already?

 WindQueen.exe (13:03): deal.

WindQueen.exe (13:03) but i’m raising the price soon.

WindQueen.exe (13:03) emotional labor ain’t cheap

You slid the phone back into your pocket, heart lighter.

For just a second, everything feels less heavy.

You were still smiling when you slid your phone into your coat pocket, the wind brushing lightly over your face like it’s caught your mood.

You turned, instinctively, your gaze flicking behind you—

And froze.

Caleb was still a few steps back.

Head slightly bowed. Shoulders more relaxed than usual.

He was looking down at his phone.

And he was smiling.

Not the smirk he wore when he was  being smug. Not the sarcastic grin he threw you like a knife.

A real smile.

Small. Quiet. Private.

The kind you didn’t think he was capable of.

Your heart skipped a bit. Just a little.

Because whoever he was texting… must have been someone truly special. You knew Caleb was loved, from his friend to anyone on campus. But you couldn’t help but think he was living for others' expectations. That was why his smile always seemed… fake? But right now…

You’ve never seen him look at anyone like that. Not even his girlfriend.

Then he noticed you looking.

The smile vanished in a blink. His posture sharpened. His walls snapped back into place.

 “What?” He muttered.

 “Nothing,” you lied, turning away too fast. “Just surprised your face doesn’t crack when you smile.”

He didn’t answer.

But you didn’t miss the way his fingers tighten around his phone before he slipped it into his pocket — like he was protecting something precious.

Your head turned toward his girlfriend who had a fond smile on her face. You looked at her hands and noticed she had her phone between her fingers.

Maybe they were texting each other.

That explained everything. Mystery solved.

His girlfriend looped her arm through yours the second you stepped into the store.

“We need snacks, something sweet, and something spicy,” she announced. “That way, dinner reflects all our personalities.”

You glanced behind you.

Caleb was trailing a few steps behind, dragging the wheeled cart like it personally offended him.

“What does that make him?” you asked, nodding toward Caleb.

She grinned. “The spice. Obviously.”

“Please,” you muttered. “He’s the bitter aftertaste.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow as he passed you.

“And you’re what, air-popped popcorn? All hiss, no bite?”

“At least I don’t ruin every dish I’m in.”

“At least you admit you belong in the microwave.”

You glared. He smirked. His girlfriend, oblivious or pretending to be, hummed as she dragged you down the candy aisle.

“You guys have such a dynamic,” she beamed, “It’s like watching a live drama. Except the leads would rather kill each other than kiss.”

You and Caleb spoke at the same time:

“Exactly.”

“God, no.”

You cringed while Caleb messed with his girlfriend’s hair while she was laughing. What kind of girlfriend jokes about her boyfriend being in a relationship with another girl..?

You trailed behind her as she scanned for snacks. But then, you felt your phone buzz again. Your fingers twitched for it. You wanted to check if he replied again.

Then you glanced over.

Caleb’s leaning against the freezer section, trying not to look like he's shivering, his phone in his hand. You narrowed your eyes.

“Are you still burning up, or is that just your personality?”

He didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Worried about me, wind girl?”

“Nope. Just checking if I need to buy ice for your face.”

He gave you a lazy once-over and muttered:

“I’m just sick of you, nothing to worry about.”

Murder is illegal. Murder is illegal.Murder is illegal. Murder is illegal.Murder is illegal. Murder is illegal.Murder is illegal. Murder is illegal.Murder is illegal. Murder is illegal.Murder is illegal. Murder is illegal.Murder is illegal. Murder is illegal.

His pipsqueak bounced off with a dramatic gasp about “the perfect brand of noodles” and vanished around the corner, leaving you and Caleb alone in the aisle.

You were glaring at him over a bag of rice crackers. He was pretending to compare two brands of instant soup like it’s a life-or-death decision.

“You know that one has fake protein, right?” you said, pointing at the one in his hand.

“So do your insults, but you still serve them.”

Some years in jail might be cosy. Or after killing him you could maybe go in the 109Zone, start a new life–

You were mid-eye roll, about to roast him over his tragic soup choices, when you both heard it:

Creak. Creak…

You turned at the same time.

The cart was rolling.

Then it picked up speed — those cursed little plastic wheels clicking faster and faster as it turned the corner.

“Wait—”

“You let go!” you accused.

“You were standing closer to it!”

Neither of you thought— You just ran.

Full sprint.

Down the aisle, around the corner, nearly colliding with a stack of discount marshmallows.

“Left! Go left!” you yelled.

“I know how to chase a cart, thanks!”

“Do you? You look like a dying giraffe!”

“I hate you.”

The cart was now flying down the sloped aisle, heading straight toward a precarious wall of fruit juice boxes.

“If it crashes, it’s your fault!”

“We are literally chasing this together!”

In a blur of limbs and questionable decision-making, you both reached it at the same time.

Caleb lunges for the cart handle, a second before you did.

He got one hand on it — yanked it sideways to slow it down.

You dived too, going for the side to stop the cart from tipping.

You slammed into his side, lost your footing, and stumbled forward. Caleb was already crouched low from the momentum, and as you hit him—

You fell on top of him, arms instinctively braced on either side of his chest.

The cart wobbled... but didn’t fall.

Neither did you.

Instead, you both hit the floor in a tangle, your legs bent awkwardly, hands still gripping the cart from opposite sides.

You were half-kneeling, one leg over Caleb’s lap, your palms flat on the floor to keep from collapsing all the way. He was partially sitting, elbows behind him, one knee up, his free hand still holding the cart upright.

Your faces were way too close — like inches apart. You could count each other’s freckles. You could feel the heat of a blush.

Panting. Sweaty. A little stunned.

You were still half-on top of him, arms braced, his hand still gripping the cart handle like it wronged him personally.

For a second, you just blinked at each other.

Your noses were way too close.

“…Well,” you muttered breathlessly. “Teamwork.”

“You elbowed me in the ribs.”

“And saved your life. You’re welcome.”

You both scrambled up, pretending nothing happened, brushing off imaginary dust. You looked at the cart, making sure everything was still inside while Caleb was rubbing his knees.

You glanced at him—

And then you lost it.

The laugh tears out of you — loud, full, unstoppable. The kind that made you bend forward and slapped your knee. You tried to stop, but it just kept coming.

Caleb stared at you like you’ve finally snapped.

“...Are you broken?” he asked, blinking.

You gasped through laughter, barely able to breathe.

“We—we chased it! Like idiots!”

“Because it was moving!”

“We have evol!”

That was when it hit him.

His face scrunched. His mouth twitched.

Then he started laughing too — lower, rougher, shaking his head as he leaned against the cart.

“We could’ve stopped it in two seconds.”

“I can literally move air. You control gravity!”

“Why did we run like civilians?!”

You were both wheezing now, practically leaning on each other from how hard you’re laughing. You could see Caleb’s cheeks getting redder and you wondered if he was truly laughing at the situation or if his fever was getting the best of him.

“Oh my god, we’re so dumb,” you managed to say, wiping your eyes.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said, still laughing.

You were still laughing, both of you breathless, when a wicked little grin curled onto your face. You straightened up, adjusted your hair dramatically, and said in the most innocent voice possible:

“This was fun. Can’t wait to tell your girlfriend how you heroically almost died saving canned soup.”

Caleb froze.

“Don’t.”

Your grin widened. You took a step back.

“Oh no. I’m definitely telling her.”

“I swear on–.”

“I’m going to open with: ‘He screamed when it wobbled.’”

You ran.

You bolted down the aisle like you’re chasing victory itself, giggling, heart pounding.

Then — the air shifted.

Suddenly, your feet felt heavy. Not stuck, just... slowed.

Your steps dragged for a second before you glanced back over your shoulder—

Caleb’s hand was raised. His Evol was active, subtle, but definitely there. He would not use his evol to stop a moving cart, but of course he would use it against you.

“Hey! That’s cheating!”

He walked toward you, unbothered.

“You started it.”

You laughed again, stumbling forward with exaggerated effort.

“Abusing gravity to protect your pride? That’s low, even for you.”

“You threatened to tattle. That’s war.”

The moment he got close enough to reach, you ducked behind the cart, still laughing, using it like a shield.

“I’ll tell her you cried for my help.”

“I will float you.”

“You wish.”

Caleb stared at you with a mocking smile while you sneakily took an item from the aisle behind you. He was stalking toward you, slow, calm, with that infuriatingly smug face like he already won.

“Come on,” he said smoothly. “Take the L. Just admit I’m faster than you at reacting.”

You grab a pack of rice crackers and toss it in his direction. He catches it midair without flinching.

“You’re not faster,” you huff. “You’re just cheating.”

“It’s not cheating if it’s strategy.”

“You pulled me back using gravity.”

“You threw snacks at me.”

“That was self-defense.”

You squinted at him. He was smirking. And you were still crouched like you’re guarding treasure.

And that’s when it happens.

You both just... laughed.

Not mockingly. Not sarcastically.

Just—honestly.

You were still sitting on the floor, and he’s got his hands in his pockets, watching you with something softer in his eyes now. Something unsure.

“You’re kind of fun when you’re not acting like a brick wall,” you said, breathless.

He shrugged, chuckling.

“You’re kind of tolerable when you’re not trying to….”

A beat of silence.

Your eyes meet.

You were smiling shyly. He wasn’t looking at you with those cold eyes he always seemed to wear when you were nearby. And for once—neither of you looked away.

“...Are we seriously having a good time right now?” you asked, almost whispering.

“I’m not ready to admit that,” he answered quietly.

You stood up again, smiling to yourself. You weren’t ready to admit it either. It was better to be an enemy than… whatever that was.

After five more minutes, his girlfriend came back. Of course, you tried to tell him about how Caleb kneeled in front of you, thanking you for saving the cart but he had already his hand on your mouth, making sure you couldn’t tell anymore lies.

You could see his girlfriend beaming at the two of you. She pushed Caleb and you to the register where Caleb paid for the groceries, making his girlfriend pout. He gave her a soft smile, rustled her hair before holding the bags.

They truly seemed to love each other.

You were staring at the couple who was deciding if it wouldn't be better to eat at Caleb’s place. Caleb didn’t want the frozen food to heat with the sun but his girlfriend really wanted to go to Linkon. Your eyes were on Caleb and you couldn’t help but notice that he was sweating more than a few minutes ago.

His fever.

You finally said to his girlfriend that it would be better for you to stay in Skyhavan and that you would come to her house another day. She sighed but didn’t say anything else. In the end, the three of you took a cab to Caleb’s apartment. 

You weren’t expecting his place to feel so... normal.

Clean, quiet, lived-in — a soft scent of citrus and something warm already coming from the kitchen. You watch from the bar counter, arms resting lazily over the surface, as Caleb stood at the stove, sleeves pushed up, brow furrowed like sautéing onions was a life-or-death mission.

“Never thought you’d be the type to cook,” you teased lightly.

He didn’t even look up.

“Did you think I survived on sheer rage?”

“Instant noodles and … I don’t know, Apple juice?.”

He snorted

“Close.”

His girlfriend appeared beside you with a drink in hand and a dreamy little sigh.

“He’s always like this,” she says. “All serious when he’s focused. It’s kind of hot, right?”

You gave her a sideways smile and sipped your water to avoid saying something like, unfortunately, yes.

“He burns everything when he’s distracted though,” She added with a wink. What was she trying to do?

You glanced back at him.

He’s got a little smudge of sauce on his jaw. His face is slightly pink from the heat, or his fever, hair messier than usual. And for once… he wasn’t trying to glare a hole through you. He was just existing. Focused. Calm.

And it’s weirdly—

Endearing.

“You gonna stand there judging or be useful?” he muttered without turning around.

“I’m excellent at moral support.”

“Great. Morally support the chopping board.”

He slid a knife across the counter to you without looking.

You blinked.

“Giving me a knife? Can I use it on you?”

“ Is that your kink?”

“Wha–”

“Quickly, cut the vegetables,” he ordered you.

So, here you were; chopping vegetables like a somewhat-functioning human, stealing glances when you thought he wouldn't notice.

Caleb stood  just beside you, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, forearms tense and smooth as he stirred the pan. His movements were precise, efficient — and annoyingly, really nice to look at.

You watched the subtle flex of muscle when he tilted the skillet, the way his veins show faintly as he grips the handle with practiced ease.

You blinked, realizing you’ve been staring. You quickly look back down at the cutting board before he—

“You’re gonna slice your fingers off if you keep looking at me like that.”

You froze.

“I wasn’t—”

“Sure.”

He didn’t smirk. He didn’t gloat.

Just glanced at you from the corner of his eye, calm and unreadable.

You rolled your eyes.

“You’re not that interesting.”

“You stared at my arms for a solid ten seconds.”

“I was judging your lack of seasoning technique.”

“Right. And blushing because?”

You were not blushing. Probably. Maybe a little.

“It’s warm here.”

“Sure.”

You threw a carrot slice at him but he caught it without looking and tossed it into the pan. You hated how smooth it was. You hated that Caleb was good at almost everything… even sick.

“Show-off.”

“Flustered.”

“Keep talking and I’m adding hot sauce to everything.”

“Joke’s on you. I like it spicy.”

You hated that your stomach flipped. What was that?

You chopped faster.

What the fuck was happening? Were you affection-starved? Since when were you feeling soft for Caleb? Remember? He thought of you as … someone dangerous. He was mostly being nice because his girlfriend must have asked him to. You felt your body relaxed. 

Yeah, that was the reason.

The food was done.

Somehow, you haven’t set anything on fire or launched anything into the ceiling, which feels like a miracle in itself.

Caleb reached into the cabinet for plates. You’re beside him, arms crossed loosely, trying to pretend your heart isn’t racing from the way he said “spicy” earlier like it was a challenge.

He slid the plates onto the counter. You reached to grab one—

And so does he.

Your fingers brushed.

It was barely a touch. Just skin against skin, knuckles against palm. But neither of you pulled away. Not right away.

Your hand still. His did too. Warm and solid against yours.

The hum of the stovetop. The clink of his girlfriend’s mug in the other room. But all you heard was your pulse in your ears.

You glanced up. 

Caleb was already looking at you. Not smirking. Not mocking. Just... looking. Like he noticed something too. Like maybe this — whatever this was — was scaring him a little bit, the same way it was scaring you.

“You gonna move or make me carry the whole plate with your hand on it?” he says, voice low.

You blinked.

Snorted softly.

“Tempting. But I don’t want to be gravity-slammed into your fridge.”

You both pulled your hands back at the same time.

He cleared his throat.

You grabbed the plate and turned to grab silverware — heart in your throat, fingers tingling.

It meant nothing. Nothing. He was being nice for his girlfriend, and he was mostly making sure you weren't a threat.

You tell yourself that.

But you were still smiling.

You stepped into the hallway for a second, phone already in your hand before you realize you’re reaching for comfort. Or distraction. Or him.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed.

You opened Discord. Stared at the blinking cursor.

Then you type:

 WindQueen.exe (19:54):  help

You hesitated. Then sent. You needed to find your safe comfort zone with him. Maybe he would help you understand what was going on in your head… or heart?

A few seconds later, the typing bubble appeared.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (19:55): oh no

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (19:55): do i need to call for backup

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (19:55): my wind queen down??

WindQueen.exe (19:56): i’m in enemy territory. WindQueen.exe (19:56):  if i die, tell my story

WindQueen.exe (19:56): tell them i fell victim to forearms and homemade pasta

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (19:57): noted.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (19:57): gravestone will read:

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (19:57): “she never stood a chance”

You smiled down at the screen.

The irony hit you like a quiet wave.

You were texting the one person who made your heart feel safe… While standing just feet away from the one person who made it race.

 WindQueen.exe (19;59) : okay real question

WindQueen.exe (19;59) : what’s the difference between lust and a crush?

 Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;00): damn jumping straight into philosophy huh

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;00): is this a test

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;00): do i need to submit a 3-page essay?

 WindQueen.exe (20;00): nope. i’m just confused

WindQueen.exe (20;00):  because like... how do you know if you like someone

WindQueen.exe (20;00):  or if you just think they’re hot 😭

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;01): ah. the “do i want to kiss you or punch you or both” dilemma

WindQueen.exe (20;01): EXACTLY

WindQueen.exe (20;01): i don’t trust my brain

WindQueen.exe (20;01): or my face. or my hands. or my taste in people

 Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20:02): okay okay

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20:02); lust is mostly about wanting someone physically

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20:02); a crush is when they breathe wrong and your brain short-circuits anyway

WindQueen.exe (20;03): horrible… What if it’s both?

 Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;03): if you’re both mentally and physically down bad, congrats

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;03): you might be doomed 💀

WindQueen.exe (20:04): great. love that for me.  i’m gonna die surrounded by stupid emotions and nice shoulders

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;04): ...whose shoulders 😐

WindQueen.exe (20;04): 👀 you jealous?

You couldn’t help but bite your lips, were you too straightforward? But you were both flirting right now right? You so wanted him to… desire you. Were you greedy?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;05): depends

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;05):  am i still your favorite?

WindQueen.exe (20;05):  you always are

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;05): then yeah

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;05): definitely jealous

WindQueen.exe (20;05): im blushing too hard right now, stop making me pathetic

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;06): good

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;06): because i’m not planning on losing you to some random guy

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;06): even if he does make good pasta

Your stomach flipped. Your toes curled in your socks. Your cheeks were so hot you almost wondered if Caleb had given you his fever.

He was jealous. Like... really jealous. And not hiding it.

You were now sitting on the cool floor in the hallway, knees drawn up, back against the wall. The light was soft here — just enough to make shadows curled at the edges of your legs.

Your phone sat warm in your palm, Grav1ty.D3n1ed’s last message still lingering on the screen:

“Good. Because I’m not planning on losing you.”

Your breath caught.

There was no name. No face. Just words.

But he always knew exactly how to say them.

You glanced around, pulse tapping beneath your skin like a drumbeat. Caleb was still in the kitchen, you hoped, you didn’t hear any noise from the kitchen for a while now. His girlfriend was still humming in the living room down the hall.

You raised your phone.

No face. Never your face.

Just a glimpse of your shoulder, the curve of your neck, your fingers lifted into the frame to form a crooked, soft half-heart again.

The shadows did most of the work. Your shirt slipped just slightly to the side. A little breeze from your Evol lifted a strand of your hair into the shot — a whisper of who you are without giving anything away.

You snapped the photo.

Then, you typed slowly.

 WindQueen.exe (20;07): tell me,

WindQueen.exe (20;07): if i drive you crazy like this

WindQueen.exe (20;07): is it lust?

 WindQueen.exe (20;07): or am i just a crush you haven’t solved yet?

You hit send.

…

Why did you do that? Just because a man was jealous over you didn’t mean you could just.. What if he thought you were desperate? What if he was just friendly flirting like you have been doing since you knew each other? What if–

Your head snapped up when you heard dishes crashing in the kitchen. What was Caleb doing? Did his fever make him fall? You should go and check.

You looked at your phone and froze.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;10): it’s both fuck its both

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;10): you’re a crush that won’t leave my head

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;10): and a touch i have felt only once  but already miss

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;10): and if you keep doing this, i will lose sleep tonight

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;10): remember im sick i almost faint at your picture, dont do this to me

You punch the air with your fist, pressing your forehead against the wall, giggling to yourself. You were basically jumping while trying to keep quiet. How could he make you feel so good at yourself? 

You turned around and almost shot out in fear when Caleb ran past you. He didn't even look at you, his face was so red and yet his eyes seemed… hungry. He opened a door– you guessed it was his bedroom– before slamming the door shut. 

You went to his girlfriend, asking if everything was okay but she just smiled brightly at you. She asked you to sit as the dinner was ready. You both put the silverware on the table and waited for Caleb. After ten minutes, his girlfriend went upstairs to check on him white you took your phone from your pocket with an excited smile.

He had sent you a picture.

You opened the image, breath caught somewhere between curiosity and something you wouldn’t name. The photo loaded slowly, like it knew it was about to knock the air out of your lungs.

His hand was there, fingers curled into a half-heart — just like yours.

But what drew your eyes was what’s around it.

He was clearly shirtless.

The edge of his bare chest was just visible in the shot — cut off carefully, but not by accident. You could see the lines of his collarbone, the faint slope of muscle leading down from his neck, just a shadow of where skin curved into his shoulder.

His forearm was resting across his bare stomach, where the light hit soft against the defined outline of his abs — nothing graphic, but enough to make your heart tripped.

There was a towel slung low at his hip, like he’d just dried his hands. It clung to the frame like it wasn’t meant to be there, like the photo was taken fast — impulsively.

But the half-heart was steady.

His message came seconds later.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;15); fair’s fair

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (20;15); now you’ve got a piece of me too ;)

You stared.

Eyes wide.

Mouth parted.

The air felt warmer than it did before.

You didn’t notice when Caleb and his girlfriend joined you on the table. Caleb was still red and he kept checking on his phone. His girlfriend asked him to stop so he could join the conversation but you were also too busy staring at the picture.

The dinner ended pretty quickly, you managed to let go of your phone and have a nice discussion with the two of them. You didn’t want to stay too long, you still had stuff to do–

Your eyes fell on your phone when you heard its ringing.

Zayne.

 You excused yourself, taking your phone while going on the balcony. You answered before the second buzz.

“Zayne?”

He didn't waste time.

“You were right to be suspicious.”

Your pulse spiked.

 “What do you mean?”

You heard him shuffle through something — papers? Digital reports?

 “They’re not supplements. They’re not even legal. These pills mess with cognitive-emotional pathways. They suppress fight-or-flight, long-term emotional memory, even empathy in certain thresholds.”

You leaned against the wall, wind stirring around your ankles. You weren’t even sure you were understanding everything he was saying.

“You’re saying they were trying to make me—what—less emotional?”

 “Less human,” Zayne said quietly.

You felt your breath catch. Less human…?

 “How did you test it so fast?”

Zayne hesitated. Then:

 “Because it wasn’t the first time they were used.”

Silence.

You gripped the phone tighter.

 “...What?”

 “The same compound came up in another report. Another patient. Same structure. Same imprint mark. But that subject didn’t make it past phase three.”

Your stomach dropped.

 “Phase three of what?”

He didn't answer.

But you already knew.

You’ve heard your father say it before. In passing. In clinical tones you never paid attention to.

And now, it felt like the ground under you wasn't real.

You whispered a thank you to Zayne, you lowered the phone slowly, hand trembling, the wind curling tighter around your legs like it wanted to wrap you up and carry you far away. You could still hear your best friend’s voice trying to call for you but you couldn’t even understand his words.

You stared at the sky like it might hold an answer.

That’s when you felt it — a shift in the air. A pull behind you. Not the wind.

Gravity.

Your spine stiffened.

 “You heard that, didn’t you?” you whispered, not turning.

There was a pause.

Then Caleb’s voice — low, unreadable:

 “Every word.”

You turned. Slowly. He was standing a few feet away, hood down now, dark hair messy from fever-slick sweat, but his eyes…

His eyes were clear.

Not angry. Not smug.

Just… sharp. Watching.

You shook your head, something cold curling in your chest.

 “So what now? You think I’m just another project Ever messed with? That I’m broken?”

He stepped closer. Not enough to scare you. Just enough that the night air buzzed between you.

“No,” he whispered. “Now I think you didn’t know.”

You froze.

“I thought you were like him,” Caleb murmured. “I thought you knew what he was doing to you. I thought you were on their side… that's why I was mad when you hurted her in your first year.”

Your throat tightened. You didn’t know what to say. That was why Caleb hated you since day one. He thought you were just a tool that could be used… that you hurted his girlfriend because Ever asked you to?

Then he added, quieter:

“But watching you shake like that just now? That wasn’t fake.”

You looked away, blinking hard. You were so lost, like you were inside a storm where you couldn't find solid ground. Slowly, your body slid to the ground until you were sitting against the wall, staring at the night sky.

 “What am I supposed to do, Caleb?”

You felt sick. Cold.

You didn't realize you were trembling until something warm wrapped gently around your wrist.

You flinched, startled.

It was Caleb.

He didn’t say anything at first.

He just crouched down in front of you where you’ve sat against the wall, head buried in your arms. His hand stayed there — not grabbing, not forcing — just anchoring you back to this moment.

“You didn’t choose this,” he said quietly.

You blinked up at him. His voice didn’t sound like it usually does — not sharp, not sarcastic. Just steady. Heavy with something he was holding back.

“They fed you lies. They used you. That’s not on you.”

You tried to laugh, but it died in your throat.

“I took them willingly, Caleb. I… I trusted him.”

You didn’t need to say who. He knew..

He didn’t flinch, but you could see in his eyes. He was looking at you like he knew your pain. Like he already lived this kind of suffering you were going through.

“And I hated you for it,” he said, softly but without shame. “I thought you were one of them. I thought you knew. But you didn’t.”

He shifted, kneeling now in front of where you sat.

“You’re not weak for believing in the people you loved.”

His hand moved gently — his gravity tampering down around you like a safety net. You felt the subtle weight of the world settle, not to crush, but to hold you still. Like he was saying:

You’re not floating away. I won’t let you.

Your breathing evens out. Slowly.

You whispered, broken:

“I don’t know who I am anymore… I don’t know who I am without them.”

He met your eyes, gaze steady.

“Then we’ll find out together.”

You looked at him, his face blurry because of the tear in your eyes. You gave him a soft smile before his eyes fell to your phone. You realized Zayne was still there. Caleb frowned before gently taking your phone from your hands, watching if you made any moves that showed you didn't want it.

He put your phone on speaker.

“Zayne..?”

“Caleb? Why are you here? Is she okay?”

You stared at the scene. Caleb was talking with your best friend, Zayne, like they were childhood friends. You couldn’t help but chuckled when Caleb blushed a bit at Zayne’s remark about how he comforted you.

“And you’re still bad at pretending you don’t care,” Zayne replied in his stern voice.

“Wait. Are you two... friends?”

“Absolutely not.” they both said at the same time.

“Zayne, Caleb and I are childhood friends."

You turned around and noticed Caleb’s girlfriend smiling softly at you. You quickly wiped your tears but she offered you tissues with a smile full of understanding.

“ Well, it has been a while since we saw Zayne, because of his work but…” She said, blushing a bit and playing with her hair.

You were so lost, what was happening right now?

You felt her lips against your ears as she whispered to you.

“I’m sorry, I kind of spied on you and Caleb. I’m sorry about what you learned but…I truly want us to be friends.”

You turned your face toward her with a sorry smile. She was truly adorable, looking at you with big hopeful eyes.

“Being friends with your boyfriend’s enemy isn't for the faint of heart.”

“Oh, Caleb isn’t my boyfriend.”

Okay, what the fuck was happening? Too much information, not enough emotional capacity to understand all of this.

You stared at her with big eyes, your mouth wide open.

“Huh?”

“Yeah,” She giggled, blushing a bit. “He just needed a girlfriend to be left alone. I volunteered. And now he has to cook dinner for me each time we see each other." She looked at you before blushing even more and whispered in your ears. “I am in love with someone else…”

You followed her gaze that fell on your phone. Zayne’s voice was still coming out of the device.

Oh my—

“Well, now that we are all friends! Should we make a plan to take down Ever?”

---

Next Chapter ->

Taglist: @xyzbeloved @deepspace-fishie @floofycookie @silmeria-lafleur @pagesfalling @noxus123 @sylusgirlie7 @anuncalledbridge @napforalifetime @starlitkitten @floofycookie

[xoxosierralane]

| ᴏғғɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴʟʏ |

✎ from sierra: hello hi there, my first time posting a fic on tumblr let’s hope i did this good..! and i also hope you guys enjoy this little chapter and lmk if you would like another, im also open to any ideas and writing tips. also ty to @sierrale8ne @thaatdigitaldiary & @bueckersbitch for some tips when i asked they def helped, you guys are lovely also check them out 🌺

✎ synopsis: when an overworked pre-med student wakes up late for class, the last thing she expects—aside from the existential spiral mid-lecture—is to be roped into tutoring UConn’s star point guard, Paige Bueckers. Paige is charismatic, cocky, and somehow always talking. The reader is sleep-deprived, sarcastic, and trying desperately to avoid any and all distractions. But when tutoring sessions turn into unexpected walks home, avoiding Paige becomes impossible. She’s not just a classmate—she’s a slow, sneaky problem. And worse? She lives next door.

✎ warnings: language

There are few sounds in this world more horrifying than your alarm going off thirty-five minutes after your class already started.

The second my eyes fly open, I know something is wrong. It’s that eerie, sun-too-bright, birds-too-loud kind of wrong. That creeping, soul-leaving-my-body realization as I blink at my phone screen and see the time:

9:53 AM.

Class started at nine. I should be halfway through pretending to understand biochem pathways by now, not halfway to a heart attack in bed.

I launch out of my sheets like a woman possessed, nearly tripping over the half-folded pile of laundry on my floor and banging my shin on the corner of my desk. (Why do dorm room desks always have the sharpest edges known to man?)

“Okay, okay, it’s fine,” I mutter to myself, pulling on the first pair of jeans I can find and a hoodie that may or may not have toothpaste stains on it. “You’re only, like, an hour late. People have survived worse.”

My hair’s still in the braids I did last night, thank God, because if I had to fight edge control and lateness at the same time, I would’ve just dropped out on the spot. I grab my bag, shove in a half-closed notebook, and toss a granola bar in my pocket like it’s some kind of sacrificial offering.

By the time I get to the lecture hall, I’m fully out of breath and lightly sweating. Cute. Nothing says “serious STEM major” like showing up late and looking like you just ran a 5K.

I try to sneak in, pulling the door open as quietly as possible (which means it creaks like it hasn’t been used since the Civil War), and immediately feel a hundred pairs of eyes swing in my direction. My professor pauses mid-slide.

“Nice of you to join us,” he says dryly, not even bothering to hide his smile.

“Sorry,” I mumble, keeping my head down as I scurry to the only open seat in the second row, of course. Because the back row? The safety zone? Taken. God has favorites, and I’m clearly not one of them.

I sink into the seat and pretend I didn’t just make a grand entrance. The girl next to me—blonde, tall, looks suspiciously like someone who could dunk on me if given the chance—glances over with a raised brow and the tiniest smirk.

“Rough morning?” she asks, her voice warm, a little teasing. It’s got that slightly drawn-out edge to it, like she grew up saying “pop” instead of “soda.”

I shoot her a look. “Don’t.”

She puts her hands up in mock defense but doesn’t stop smiling. Great. A morning person with cheekbones. Just what I needed.

I turn back to the lecture, trying to catch up on whatever enzyme he’s ranting about. Paige—yes, Paige Bueckers, UConn’s golden girl, sitting next to me like this is her seat or something—keeps glancing over at me every few minutes, like I’m the entertainment for the day.

Which, fine. I probably am. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

The lecture drones on, a blur of chemical structures and way too many acronyms. My brain’s already in fight-or-flight mode, and I’m trying to copy notes from the slide like my future depends on it—which it kinda does, because if I bomb this class, there goes med school, and if I don’t go to med school, then what? Sell overpriced vitamins on TikTok? Start a podcast about burnout?

I sink lower in my seat, hoping to disappear entirely.

“Alright,” the professor says, tapping his remote like it owes him money. “Can anyone explain the mechanism here?”

Silence. Beautiful, holy silence. For a second, I think we might all get away with it.

Then—

“Maya?”

I freeze. My neck actually creaks when I turn my head up to look at him. “Sorry?”

He smiles like this is fun for him. “The mechanism. For the rate-limiting step of glycolysis.”

Of course it’s glycolysis. Of course it’s this unit. I glance down at my notes, which may as well be scribbled in a dead language, and I swear my soul briefly exits my body.

Okay. Think. You’ve studied this. You’ve done flashcards at 2 a.m. like a responsible, sleep-deprived adult. You can do this.

“…Hexokinase?” I offer, which I immediately realize is wrong because his eyebrow twitches.

“Not quite,” he says. “Anyone else?”

I want to melt into the floor. I want the Earth to crack open beneath me and swallow me whole like a Greek tragedy. Why would you call on someone who was just 50 minutes late and visibly unwell?

I drop my gaze to my notebook, which now has a sad little doodle of a frowning mitochondrion in the margin, and let myself mentally spiral.

Maybe this is a sign. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me to give up and open a dog café somewhere in Portland. Maybe academic success is a capitalist scam designed to break me emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Maybe—

“You were close,” a voice whispers next to me, low enough that only I can hear. “It’s phosphofructokinase.” I glance over. Paige’s lips are twitching like she’s trying not to laugh.

Oh. So she’s not only annoying and smug—she’s smart, too. Fantastic.

I give her a blank look, then scribble it in the margin like I knew it all along. I don’t thank her. I’m not that gracious yet.

The professor moves on. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and slouch back into my seat.

I don’t even know how Paige knows that answer. I swear she’s never said a single academic thing in class before—usually just nods like she’s vibing through the lecture, and now suddenly she’s a glycolysis expert?

I glance at her again. She’s leaned back in her chair like she doesn’t have a single worry in the world. Her hoodie sleeves are pulled over her hands and she’s tapping a pencil against her notebook, looking out the window like she’s half-listening, half daydreaming.

God, I hate her.

Not really. Just enough to feel mildly personally attacked by her existence.

By the time the professor finally wraps up, my brain feels like someone stuck it in a microwave on defrost. Half-melted, barely functioning, and emitting a faint hum of defeat.

I’m already halfway through mentally mapping my route to the dining hall—food, nap, forget this day ever happened—when I hear the worst possible words.

“Maya, could you stay back for a second?”

I freeze with my laptop halfway into my bag. No. No. Please no. My stomach drops, already bracing for the we’re concerned about your academic performance speech. Or maybe he’s just gonna roast me for being late. Publicly. Again.

Next to me, Paige doesn’t move. Which is weird because usually she’s the first one out the door, bouncing off to whatever practice or photoshoot or press interview she’s contractually obligated to pretend she enjoys.

“You too, Paige,” the professor adds casually.

Ah. So it’s a group scolding. Cute.

I glance at her. She shrugs, and somehow even her shrug is smug. Like she already knows what this is about and I’m the one being dragged into something against my will.

Once everyone else filters out, the room goes quiet in that awkward way classrooms do when it’s just you, your mistakes, and the person paid to evaluate them.

The professor folds his arms. “I’m going to get right to it,” he says, eyes flicking between us. “Paige has been… struggling a bit to keep up.”

I blink. Paige?

She doesn’t even flinch. Just shifts her weight to one leg and tilts her head like, yeah, and?

“She came to me earlier,” he continues, “asking for extra support. And I mentioned you, Maya.”

My brain short-circuits. “Me?”

“Yes.” He gestures vaguely, like this makes perfect sense. “You’ve got one of the top quiz averages in the class. And I know you don’t have a lot of free time, but I thought you might be willing to help.”

I open my mouth to respond, and nothing comes out except a confused squeak.

Paige, meanwhile, is suddenly all charm and dimples. “Only if it’s not too much trouble,” she says sweetly, looking at me like I’m the answer to her prayers instead of the barely-holding-it-together girl who almost cried during a glycolysis question.

I stare at her. Then the professor. Then back at her. This is a setup. Has to be.

“I mean,” I say slowly, “I guess I could… help out. A little.”

The professor claps his hands once, like this was the easiest part of his day. “Great. Work out whatever schedule makes sense. Maybe start after the next lecture?”

“Sounds perfect,” Paige says, and I swear there’s a glint in her eye. Mischievous. Knowing.

I nod numbly, the weight of this decision already settling on my shoulders like a second backpack full of regrets.

As I head for the door, I mutter under my breath, “This is going to end badly.”

“Sorry?” Paige pipes up behind me.

“Nothing,” I lie, faster than a reflex. “See you later.”

She grins, following me out with way too much pep for someone allegedly struggling. “Can’t wait.”

And I suddenly remember: this is the same girl who walked in late the first week, said “yo, do we need the textbook for this?” in front of the whole class, and then somehow got a laugh out of the professor.

God help me.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing in the library, clutching three textbooks and a syllabus I plan to set on fire. This day has already been long enough, now apparently, Paige “needs a little help” with some of the material. And apparently, I am just the student for the job.

I hate when people say “it’ll be good experience.” It always means work I don’t want to do for free.

The librarian waves at me as I step in—Ms. Marie, always with the peach-colored cardigans and peppermint candies. “Back again?”

“Like a bad habit,” I mumble, shooting her a smile. “Just grabbing some stuff for tutoring.”

“Ooh. Teaching now?”

“Trying not to cry in public,” I answer, and she laughs like I’ve said something adorable instead of tragic.

I spend way too long in the aisles, gathering books and stalling. Mostly thinking about how good I’m gonna sleep when I get back to my apartment. Seriously. The second my cheek hits the pillow? Instant peace. Probably coma-level sleep. I should be studied for science. Sleep is my love language. Sleep is the one thing in my life that hasn’t betrayed me.

I’m still mentally composing a love letter to my bed when I round a corner and see her—Paige, standing near the checkout desk, talking to one of the guys from the men’s team. He’s smiling like he thinks he has a chance. Good luck with that. Paige Bueckers is gay as fuck.

I snort before I can stop myself, just a short, soft laugh—but she hears it. Her head turns. Our eyes meet.

Oh.

She looks surprised. Not mad, not even curious, just… like she wasn’t expecting me.

And now I’ve made eye contact. Like a dumbass. I quickly duck back behind the shelf, gripping a biochem book like it’s a shield.

Great. Just great. Nothing says “competent tutor” like spying on your student and laughing at her across the library.

—

I give it a minute before circling around the long way and heading to the study room Hanes booked for us. Small, quiet, lots of windows. I stake out the seat closest to the door in case I need to make a dramatic escape.

Paige walks in a few minutes later, all long legs and blonde hair and that basketball-player stride—like she owns the space without trying to. She doesn’t say anything at first, just drops her bag and slides into the seat next to me.

I brace myself. Here we go.

She pulls out a notebook, then a pen. Then nothing. Just sits there.

I glance at her, waiting for her to do… something. Say something. Start. Breathe.

“Are you gonna, like… open the textbook, or…”

“I was letting you do your thing first,” she says, like I’m the one who showed up five minutes late and smelled like citrus gum and lavender hand cream. Her voice has that easy, confident rhythm to it—Minnesota smooth with a little edge, like she grew up chirping boys on the blacktop.

I give her a look. “My ‘thing’ is desperately trying not to cry while re-reading the same paragraph seven times.”

She smiles, wide and real. “Relatable.”

There’s a pause. Not awkward exactly, but quiet enough to make me weirdly self-aware of how close our chairs are. I pull out my laptop to have something to do with my hands.

“So,” I say, flipping to the study guide, “Professor Hanes said you’re struggling with the last few sections. You’ve looked at the review packet?”

Paige shrugs, leaning back in her chair a little too casually. “Kind of. I just—I don’t know. I get the gist, but some stuff doesn’t stick.”

“That’s usually how it works when you don’t study.”

She raises a brow at me like she wasn’t expecting me to have teeth. “I do study.”

I raise mine right back. “Instagram Reels don’t count.”

Her mouth twitches. It’s either amusement or offense. Could go either way with girls like her.

“You always this friendly?”

“No,” I deadpan. “Usually I’m meaner.”

That gets a laugh out of her—low and genuine, like it surprised her. She leans in slightly, chin propped on her hand.

“So why’d you agree to help me?”

“I didn’t,” I reply, flipping a page. “Hanes kind of voluntold me. Said it would be ‘good practice.’”

“Bet you were thrilled.”

“Overjoyed. I love giving up my one free evening to explain gen chem to someone who probably uses Gatorade as a chaser.”

Another smile from her. This one lasts a little longer.

“You always this funny?”

“I’m not trying to be funny,” I mutter, but my mouth won’t quite stop twitching.

We get into the material slowly—me talking through concepts, her asking questions here and there. She’s actually more focused than I expected. Still fidgety, still Paige Bueckers in all her tall, confident, knows-people-are-watching energy—but she’s trying. I can give her that.

Halfway through, she lets out a sigh and scrubs a hand over her face. “Okay, but why are there so many exceptions to every rule? Like, who made these up?”

“Science,” I reply. “Also colonialism.”

She tilts her head. “You’re not wrong.”

Another beat of silence. Then she asks, “What’s your major?”

“Pre-med. Bio track.”

She whistles, low. “Damn. That’s sick.”

I shrug. “It’s fine. If you enjoy stress-induced migraines and disappointing your family.”

Paige grins. “Bet your mom’s proud of you.”

“She is,” I admit, softer now. “But I also think she thinks I sleep more than I do.”

Paige’s voice is light when she says, “You don’t strike me as a slacker.”

“I’m not,” I say, yawning. “But if I had one wish? It would be to sleep for a solid twelve hours. Maybe fourteen. Maybe forever. I love sleep. Like, I would marry it. I’d elope with sleep to another country and never text anyone back.”

Paige chuckles. “That’s dramatic.”

“That’s survival,” I correct, grabbing a pen to tap against her notes. “Now stop stalling and write that formula down before I cry.”

She leans in again, not writing yet. Just watching me. “You kinda mean.”

“You’re kind of loud.”

“Touché.”

We keep working, but the space between us softens just a little. There’s something about the way she shifts a little closer when I’m showing her something, or how she asks questions like she actually wants to know the answer. She’s still full of herself, but in a way that makes me want to roll my eyes and pay attention.

And then there’s the eye contact. God. Paige Bueckers and her Olympic-level commitment to staring directly into my soul.

Like—I’m trying to explain the electron configuration of potassium, and she’s looking at me like I might be the answer to something she’s been trying to solve for years. Icy blue eyes, lashes curled to the heavens, a little swipe of mascara like she knew she’d be making people nervous today.

And by people, I mean me. Specifically me.

It’s honestly kind of rude. Intimidating. Possibly illegal. There should be a warning label or something: DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH PAIGE BUECKERS UNLESS YOU ARE READY TO BE HYPER-ANALYZED AND POSSIBLY SEDUCED.

Because I swear—I swear—the way she looks at me? It’s not just eye contact. It’s eye-to-future-entanglement contact. Like she’s trying to hypnotize me out of my panties with just her stare and that stupid smirk she keeps trying to hide behind her hand.

Focus. I need to focus. This is chemistry. Not chemistry-chemistry. I’m not gonna be another gay kid that fails a class because I couldn’t stop thinking about some pretty basketball player with really good hair.

No offense to everyone else who’s fallen into that trap. (none taken)

“Okay,” I say, tapping my pen against my notebook and not looking at her eyes again, “that’s ionic bonding, which means we’re finally done with chapter four.”

Paige stretches her arms above her head with a small groan, the hem of her hoodie lifting just enough to flash a sliver of skin. I look away instantly, like a respectable person. Like someone not currently battling the urge to spiral into a gay panic over five seconds of midriff.

“Thank God,” she sighs dramatically, flopping back in her chair like she just ran drills for two hours. “You know, I think I actually learned something.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“I am surprised,” she grins, tugging at the sleeve of her hoodie. “You’re kinda scary-smart.”

I blink. “Scary?”

“In a good way,” she adds quickly. “Like, in a ‘you could probably build a robot army and take over the world but choose not to’ kind of way.”

“…Thanks?”

She smiles like she means it. Like maybe that was a compliment in her language. And for some reason, it sticks with me.

I start gathering my things, stuffing pens and half-crumpled notes into my backpack like the burnt-out academic I am. “Well, we’re scheduled again next Thursday unless your Coach pulls you for something.”

Paige doesn’t move to leave. She leans back in her chair, arms folded behind her head, watching me with that same annoyingly intense gaze.

“You always study here?” she asks casually, like she didn’t just spend two hours fighting for her life over basic chem.

“Sometimes,” I reply, zipping up my bag. “It’s quiet. And the librarian doesn’t hate me.”

“That’s a plus.”

“You?”

She shrugs. “Ehh usually with the team. Or, like, wherever has food.”

I hum, trying to keep the conversation from stretching too long. I’m not great at lingering—especially not with people like her. The kind of person who walks into a room and owns it without even trying.

I sling my bag over my shoulder, already planning my post-study nap in vivid, loving detail, but before I can escape—

“You wanna walk out together?”

I pause, blinking at her.

Not because it’s weird. But because I hadn’t expected it. Most athletes don’t even remember the names of their TAs, much less offer to walk them out of the library like it’s some sort of… soft exit interview.

I glance at the clock. It’s getting late. But also, she’s looking at me like I’m someone worth lingering around.

“Sure,” I say. Casually. Like my heart isn’t already doing cartwheels.

She grins, standing to her full height (good holy 6ft..), and my only thought as we walk side by side toward the doors is God help me, I might be in trouble.

Because Paige Bueckers is something else.

And apparently, she’s not going anywhere.

—

The night air hits us as we step out of the library, and it’s just cold enough to make me regret not grabbing a hoodie. Of course, Paige doesn’t seem bothered at all. She walks like she’s immune to weather. Or like the wind parts just for her. Probably both.

For a moment, it’s quiet. Awkwardly so. My favorite kind.

Then, Paige starts talking.

And when I say talking, I mean talking. Like she hasn’t spoken to another human being all day and I just unlocked the floodgates.

“So, like, I’ve had the same pair of slides since I was fifteen, right?” she says, hands in the front pocket of her hoodie. “They’re disgusting. Like, actually offensive. I think they’ve developed their own bacteria strain at this point. But I can’t get rid of them. They’re like emotional support shoes. You ever have something like that?”

I blink. “Uh…”

She barrels right past my lack of response. “And then Aaliyah tried to throw them out once when we were on the road and I almost tackled her in the hotel hallway. She was like, ‘Paige, they smell like shit.’ But they don’t. They smell like loyalty.”

She grins at her own joke. I say nothing.

Not because I don’t want to. But mostly because what?

I nod along, mostly to be polite. Or maybe out of shock. I’m not really sure.

She keeps going. “Also, can I ask you a question? Why do all chemistry textbooks weigh as much as small toddlers? Like, what are they putting in there? Guilt? Disappointment?”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, which unfortunately only fuels her further.

She talks about basketball. Then her best friend’s dog. Then how she’s still mad Chipotle took her favorite salsa off the menu. She has opinions on everything from cafeteria chicken to the superiority of Apple Music over Spotify (she’s wrong, but I let her have it).

And the weirdest part?

It’s not annoying.

It should be. But it’s not.

I listen. Mostly because I’m stunned by how easily she fills the space between us, how her voice softens when she gets excited and how, even when she’s rambling, she makes it feel like you’re part of the story.

It’s… unsettling.

I don’t do people like her. I don’t get people like her.

And yet here she is. Walking next to me. Talking like we’ve done this a thousand times before.

And then, as if this night couldn’t get any weirder, she slows down in front of my building.

I stop too.

Paige pauses, looking at the entrance. Then looks at me. “Wait—you live here?”

“Yeah,” I say slowly, pointing to the left. “Top floor.”

She blinks. “Shut up.”

“I will not.”

She grins, pointing to the right. “That’s my building.”

I stare at her for a second. Then glance up. Then back at her.

This cannot be real life.

“You’re telling me we’ve lived next to each other this whole time and this is the first time I’m finding out?”

I sigh. “This is just great.”

“Great?” she echoes, clearly amused.

“Yeah. Fantastic. Love this for me.”

She’s still smiling like this is the best coincidence to ever happen. Like fate just personally delivered her a win.

I just shake my head, digging my keys out of my pocket. “Well. Thanks for the walk. And the verbal TED Talk.”

She bows slightly. “Anytime.”

I turn to head inside, pausing with my hand on the door.

“Hey,” she calls.

I look back.

“Same time Thursday right?”

I nod once. “Sure.”

She salutes me with two fingers, still grinning, then turns and jogs up the steps to her building.

I stand there for a moment, key still in hand, trying to process everything. The tutoring. The talking. The proximity.

This is going to be a nightmare.

I let myself into the building, already craving sleep and silence and maybe a three-day nap. But even as I make it upstairs and fall face-first onto my bed, one thought keeps bouncing around my head like it’s got a key to the place:

Paige Bueckers is going to be a problem.

[mahalkitamully]

the girl next door 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

ー the elevator (p1)

read the other chapters here !

: neighbor ! modern ! ellie williams x reader oneshot !

fluff fluff :3

FOR THE GIRLS ONLY

i'm trying to write more abt my favs, but like leon I haven't written ellie in a while!! I'm sorry for the inaccuracy <3

一

there it was again. the sound of the guitar playing over and over. it seemed this time, she couldn't get a certain part.

ellie williams was a chill neighbor. you only knew her name from the other tenants who'd yap to each other about her guitar late at night. yeah, she'd keep to herself most of the time, but the times y'all did meet was.. a bit awkward.

you'd bump into her coming out of her apartment, fumbling with her keys. "oh shit- sorry." she'd mumble out, glancing to you before locking her gaze onto the floor, rushing past you.

don't get me started when y'all were stuck on the elevator. well- it wasn't that awkward..

. . .

you rushed out of your apartment, bag straps slipping off your shoulder after being sloppily put on, as you scrambled to lock your apartment door. you ran to the elevator that was already closing, before a hand came out to hold it open. your eyes went from the hand, to the moth tattoo on her forearm, to her green eyes.

"oh- thanks-!" you smiled as she nodded.

then silence for a few seconds.

"what floor?" "what?" "what floor-?"

"ah- uh, the bottom one?" "right- right."

ellie clicked the button, and the elevator ride was going smoothly. the conversation was already awkward and both of y'all wanted to get out as soon as possible. ellie was attractive, but that's what was scary about her.

suddenly the elevator cracked, then popped, before it just stopped moving. you glanced up at ellie, who glanced at you. she then went to click the emergency button.

"hey uh- I think the elevator broke."

"ok! help will be on the way" the lady spoke in a cartoony voice as you and ellie rocked on your feet.

an hour went by, and almost nothing happened.

"so.. where were you going?" you asked, as ellie looked up from her phone. you noticed she never really looked you in the eye.

"oh I was gonna go to class-.." she hummed, as you nodded.

"what about you?" she tilted her head slightly.

"I was going to go to my job at the cafe- but I guess i'll be late huh"

"you work at a cafe??"

"yeah why-!"

"what a loser" you could tell she didn't mean it by the way she tensed up, before speaking again "sorry- just joking-." she looked worried that she had offended you for a second.

you guys talked a while as you waited for the repairmen. you learned a lot about her.

her dad joel had taught her guitar, she got that tattoo from her friend, and that she was in college for art.

then the lights shut off. she cursed under her breath as you stumbled to find the emergency button once more- only for you to bump into her. "sorry-!" you yelped, before she turned on her flashlight. you didn't realize how close y'all were till now. your breaths hitched, your eyes locked as ellies lips parted slightly "sorry!! im sorry fuck-" you stammered out, making distance as she nodded.

"it's- fine really-." she mumbled as you looked down, almost guilty for the sudden awkwardness of the room. well- the room was already awkward, but you kinda just added onto it.

it was silent before she spoke up again, her eyes locked onto her phone.

"you smell nice" she hoped you didn't see her burning face, or hear the way her heart beated. hell- it felt as though it was gonna burst out her chest.

"thanks!" you smiled as she nodded in response (as always) before it was awkward again. "you- you play guitar right? I always hear you at night" you paused, cursing at yourself when it came out. it sounded so creepy! always hearing her at night??

it seemed she picked up on this, and chuckled, looking down. "uh.. sorry to keep you up at night-. last night I was very stressed at not getting that riff right."

"what? it sounded great to me."

"really-?"

"yeah! I could hear your progress!" you smiled as she turned bashful. she ran a hand through her hair, nodding. "thanks.."

you don't know where you got the confidence- whether God Himself or your adrenaline, but you blurted something out with your fat ass mouth.

"do you wanna come to the cafe later? i'll give you coffee- for free too-!"

ellie blinked, before nodding. she was trying to act nonchalant but you could tell she was struggling.

"yeah- yeah yeah thats- that sounds- cool."

"mkay! guess its a date!" you were talking faster than you thought, and you saw ellie's eyes widened with the light of her phone screen.

"what?"

"what?"

then the repairmen came and you rushed out of the elevator. it'll be so awkward when the two of you come back home tonight.

ok its beddy sleep nap nappy beddy bye bye

[foreignjaykay]

company (a jungkook fic)

part one - "you wish i'd miss you,"

company - a jungkook fic

can we keep each other company?

their workplace was chaos, but jungkook made it fun. their camaraderie was effortless—until he decided to leave. no big deal. people quit all the time. so why does it feel like everything is about to change?

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: r18+ (angst, fluff) minors do not interact!

chapter warnings/misc: workplace!au, coworkers!au, event planner!jk, event planner!oc, jk is not famous, angst, fluff, sad, crack, event planner!mingyu, bts in event planning company, unserious friend group, they are so silly and unserious, mean boss - yeah no she sucks, ANGST, IDIOTS both of them, yeah i guess thats it...for now hehe

notes: hello everyone!!! hehe its my first fic on tumblr and my first ever jk fic so i really hope you guys like it. im writing after so many years so please ignore mistakes eh. its kinda based on my personal experiences. things will only get interesting as this fic progresses.. lots of new characters will come in the next chapter! this fic will honestly pick up its pace from the second chapter!! anywho lets get into it!! <3

moodboard • playlist • series masterlist

The first thing you saw when you unlocked your phone this morning was a text from Jungkook. That in itself was weird—he wasn’t the type to be up this early, let alone texting people.

jaykay (work) [8:50am]: hi :)

you [8:50am]: oh my god. what did you forget?

jaykay (work)  [8:51am]: have some faith in me. i was texting for something entirely different. 😒

you[8:51am]: are you sick? held hostage? blink twice if you need help.

jaykay (work) [8:52am]: how da hell are u so dramatic in the morning

you [8:52am]: come to the point jungkook

jaykay [8:52am]: fine. 🙄 don’t bring lunch today

you [8:53am]: why?

jaykay (work) [8:53am]: lunch is on me. taking you, shane and mingyu out for ramen

you [8:53am]: 🤨🤨🤨

jaykay (work) [8:54am]: see you in office🥰

You squinted at the screen, trying to process the words through your morning haze. This man barely made it to work before noon on most days, always breezing in with an iced americano and a sheepish grin. And yet here he was, awake and making lunch plans at 9 AM? Suspicious. Very suspicious.

It’s fixed, you know? Him being late to work, getting sarcastic remarks from the bosses - Natasha, the reporting manager (god did she love micromanaging the team) and Kim Song, the director of your company.

But whatever, free ramen was free ramen and, on that note, you finally woke up and went to get ready for the weird day that was ahead of you.

By the time you got to the office, the usual chaos had already begun. Natasha, wasn’t physically present today, thank the lord for that, you thought, but her presence loomed over Zoom calls like a dark cloud. You had barely set down her bag before her laptop screen lit up with an incoming call. Does this woman ever chill?

“Good morning, team,” Natasha’s clipped voice rang out as the screen loaded. “Let’s go over the deliverables for today.” Her screen was hidden and she was on a holiday like she had very explicitly mentioned the week before she left.

You suppressed a groan as you saw Jungkook and Mingyu joining the call too. Shane, their CS intern, looked half-asleep. Jungkook, though, was oddly quiet, his usual playful banter nowhere to be seen. His leg bounced under the desk, fingers drumming against the tabletop.

You shot him a look, but he didn’t meet your eyes.

Okay that was weird, wasn’t it?

You looked towards Mingyu and Shane to see if they noticed Jungkook being a little off today but to your surprise they were engrossed on what Natasha was instructing on the upcoming event which was the luxurious Cartier dinner.

Classic Natasha, putting her work on us while she sips on pina coladas on the beach after this 10-minute meeting. You wanted to be as carefree as her sometimes, how easily she just threw her tasks on others.

Throughout the meeting, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Jungkook which thankfully he didn’t notice.

Or at least that’s what you thought.

Jungkook knew you. He knew how curious you got sometimes and he also knew currently the wheels were turning in your head wondering why he was being so awkward. He smiled internally, thinking how much you knew him and how much he was going to miss you.

If you kept looking at him like that, he was going to crack. He just hoped you wouldn’t figure it out before he told you himself.

Once the meeting was over, you quickly went towards the design studio in the office, greeting Yuna and So-hee who seemed like had just come to office with the way they were switching on their systems for the day.

“I really need the final design renders for the stage setup and the seating plan for Cartier, Yuna,” You said worried knowing that if you don’t get these renders in next half an hour then the costing would delay and then Natasha…yeah no.

Its as if Jungkook got a sign, he entered the design studio greeting Yuna, So-hee, and Dae and standing next to you as if to ease the tension you had going on.

“Babe, give me 10 minutes, the renders are ready. I’ll email it to you, Natasha and Namjoon,” Yuna said as she started working on her system. You nodded your head and gave her a worried smile.

“Mark me in the email too,” Jungkook said instantly and you gave him a pointed look. Yuna seemed to mirror your thoughts and raised her eyebrows towards him.

Seeing that you both were confused, Jungkook chuckles and says, “__, you should be happy that I am willingly asking to be marked on emails,” which makes you roll your eyes playfully and smirk.

“Also, I don’t have nothing big going on currently, project wise, so I’ll follow up for the costings and Natasha will stay away from my ass,” Jungkook continues and laughs with Yuna, So-hee and Dae.

You looked at him as he was sort of back in his carefree self but something still felt off. You just couldn’t put your finger on what this feeling was.

Lunch couldn’t come fast enough. The second Natasha’s second call for the day wrapped up the call, you shut your laptop and turned towards Jungkook who along with Mingyu and Shane was joking and was waiting for you to get done.

“Okay, spill. What’s with the mystery since today morning?” You immediately asked him and he couldn’t help but chuckle nervously.

Mingyu slung an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders, grinning. “Yeah, dude. You’re making me nervous.”

Shane, ever the observer, just raised a brow. “Is this about work? God I can’t wait to dig into some good ramen after hearing Natasha ramble since past 15 mins. 15 mins with her feel like 2 hours,” Shane continued rambling earning laughs from the three of you.

Jungkook let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just get to lunch first.”

That didn’t help your growing suspicion, but you let it slide—at least until the 4 of you reached the ramen place.

The aroma of rich broth and sizzling garlic filled the tiny ramen shop. Shane and Mingyu were already practically vibrating with hunger, menus discarded, ready to order. You, however, were still scanning the options, your stomach rumbling in anticipation. Just as you were about to decide, you and Jungkook spoke in unison: “Japchae.”

A surprised laugh bubbled up. “You wanna have japchae too?” you asked, a little thrill of connection sparking despite the weirdness of the morning. He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, and ordered for both of you.

Minutes later, steaming bowls of ramen and the shared plate of japchae arrived. The savory scent made your mouth water. You took a tentative bite of the japchae, the noodles perfectly chewy, the vegetables crisp and flavorful. It was delicious. But Jungkook just sat there, chopsticks hovering over his bowl. He had a strange expression—not quite annoyed, but… something. You knew that look. It was his tell when food was exceptionally good. That’s just his weird trait.

You took the second bite yourself to see if it was and it was really good.

“I got another job.”

Silence.

Your stomach dropped.

Then, Mingyu blinked. “Wait, what?”

Jungkook shifted in his seat, avoiding their gazes. “I got an offer from an event company. They handle production for A-list musicians—concerts, world tours, all of it.” But you could see how proud he was. This was his dream.

“Oh, shit, that’s huge,” Shane said, eyes wide and dramatically keeping his chopsticks on the side.

Jungkook looked at you trying to gauge for your reaction.

You swallowed, gripping your chopsticks a little tighter. “Wow. That’s… incredible, Jungkook.” You said genuinely but why did it feel so off? Why did it feel like you were losing everything? People leave jobs all the time and this is no different, so why was it feeling all to different suddenly?

When you congratulated him, you meant it. You really did. He deserved this. But there was a weird, hollow feeling in your chest. Something tight that you couldn’t quite name.

Jungkook was watching you and asked, “You okay?”

You forced a smile but to everyone it looked genuine. “Of course. This is a big deal. I am so happy for you, Jungkook!” Mingyu and Shane mirrored your smile and congratulated him to which Jungkook threw an honest smile.

His eyes still lingered for a second longer before he nodded, turning his attention back to his food. But you could tell he didn’t fully believe you.

Mingyu and Shane immediately started asking him the questions about his new company and the new job and Jungkook excitedly answered them all and you were interested too to know all the details.

Once the 4 of you were done with the lunch, you asked him, “So when are you telling Natasha?”

“Next week, and then 2 weeks’ notice,” He said looking at you as if he was trying to find an emotion out of you.

“Damn bro, you are leaving us so soon.” Shane said and you looked at Jungkook.

“Now at least I will have some proper desk space at the office,” You tried to joke which earned you a playful eye roll from Jungkook.

“Oh my god, I have to plan a farewell party for you now,” Mingyu joked and you laughed. For the whole lunch, this is the first time Jungkook noticed you genuinely smiling and it was all thanks to Mingyu’s dramatic nature.

The rest of the workday felt strangely off-balance. Even though nothing had technically changed yet, you felt the weight of the upcoming shift pressing down on you. The knowledge that soon, Jungkook wouldn’t be here anymore—wouldn’t be there to roll his eyes at Natasha’s ridiculous demands, wouldn’t be crashing at her desk with an iced coffee and a new piece of gossip, wouldn’t be around to share those unspoken glances when things got too absurd.

You had started hating how much that realization unsettled you.

It was Jungkook who got you out of your dazed thoughts when he said, “___, I have asked Namjoon hyung for the Cartier costing and he is working on it,”

You threw a sincere smile towards him and nodded while he went back on his desk and worked on some small projects he had going on.

gyu (work) [3pm]: are you okay?

Once you read the text, you immediately looked at him but he acted to be so engrossed in his work and you couldn’t help but look back into your phone and text back

you [3:01pm]: yeah, why?

gyu (work) [3:01pm]: you sure about that? ever since jk dropped that bomb, you have been quiet and so has he.

That got your attention. Were you that obvious?

you [3:02pm]: no nothing like that. im happy that he got this. he deserves it!! also when is the blue label bottle engraving costing going to the client? natasha has been on my ass about it since morning. send it asap please <33

gyu [3:03pm]: girl i gotta give it to you, nice attempt to change the convo but we aren’t done yet. ugh why are you my senior? im sending it in 5

By the time the day ended and finally the costings for Cartier had gone out (thanks to Jungkook and Joon), you had convinced yourself you were just being dramatic. People left jobs all the time. This wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal.

Mingyu and Shane had already left for the day and the design studio was also empty leaving only you and Jungkook in the client servicing department. For a Monday, people had left earlier than usual, you thought to yourself.

You looked at the clock and saw it was 7pm already.

While you packed your bags, like routine, Jungkook waited for you. He dropped you home everyday given that you both lived nearby and your apartment came on the way to his.

However, the silence between the two of you felt heavier than usual.

“You’re quiet,” he finally said as the two of you entered the elevator.

You forced a laugh and adjusted your purse, trying to look anywhere but at him. “So are you.”

The two of you exited the elevator and sat in his car, he started the engine. For the first time ever, the silence between the two of you was uncomfortable.

Jungkook sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he took the familiar route and said, “Are you really happy for me?”

You immediately turned to look at him, meeting his gaze in the dim glow of the streetlights. “Yes, I am. Why would you think I am not?”

His smile was small, a little sad. “Alright. You and I haven’t spoken much since lunch,”

You didn’t know why, but something in your chest ached at that. But you ignored it,  and looking towards and giving him a smile and said, “Jungkook, I am so happy for you. I am. I know you wanted this and now you have it,”

For the first time in the whole day, he smiled genuinely at you.

“Will you miss me?,” He asked as he stopped the car right out of your apartment and looked at you with his doe eyes that carry the sta-

Wait what?!

You ignored whatever that thought was and quickly composed yourself and laughed at him. “You wish I would miss you,” You joked playfully and he rolled his eyes.

“On a serious note, yes I will. Who will I tolerate Natasha with?” You continued and he let out a small chuckle.

“Anyway I have to go. See you tomorrow boss,” you finally said, and then you were gone, disappearing into the building.

Jungkook sat there for a moment, staring after you.

He knew you better than you thought. He knew when you were genuinely happy, when you were just pretending, when you were holding back something you didn’t want to say. And tonight, you were definitely holding back.

Jungkook sighed, leaning his head back against the car seat. Leaving this job was supposed to be exciting, a step up, an opportunity of a lifetime. And it was.

But why did it feel like he was losing something, too?

part 2

© foreignjaykay

[itz-mfkn-de]

could you do a theo nott x ravenclaw!reader where he helps her study for a big test? but he ends up just "distracting" her ??

Yes yes yes yes yes I love u and ur brain this is amazing.

\\STUDY BUDDY// T.N

Warnings- sex, kissing, cussing, Italian, yah that’s it

TY FOR THE REQUEST ALSO IM WORKING ON THE OTHERS SORRY FOR TAKING FORVER IVE BEEN SO BUSY😭 but i love you all and i promise i am working on them.

——

You sat in your dorm room, the books around you swallowing your surroundings. You had been studying for the past couple hours and you had no intentions of stopping. This test determined if you passed the class or not, you couldn’t let yourself fall behind, not after you’d worked so hard to get to the top.

Your brows furrowed while you re read over the chapter info, trying your best to imbed it into your brain.

Your intense focus was broken by the light knocks on your door, and you knew exactly who it was.

You sighed softly and got up from your desk. You unlocked the door and slowly opened it, making eye contact with a certain brunette not long after.

“Theo, I thought you had plans with friends?” You said with a soft smile.

He walked past you and planted a kiss on your forehead, his hands tracing your waist.

“ I did, but I missed my girl,” he mumbled as his body flopped on your bed “Missed you, bella.”

“I missed you too Theo,” you walked up to him to give him a soft kiss, just wanting to feel his lips against your own for a quick moment.

He moaned once he felt the warmth of your mouth meet his, hands roaming slowly under your shirt.

You pulled back and grabbed his hands before they travelled and lower.

“No, i have to study, Theodore,” you said strictly “I can’t fail this test.”

He let out a groan.

“Amore, when have you ever failed a test? Not once, and I don’t think this is any different from before.” He replied while putting your hands on his chest and continuing.

His lips ghosted along the Side of your neck leaving you breathless.

“Theodore..I really need to study.” You grumbled as you made little attempt to push him back.

He left soft sloppy kisses where his warm breath had resided.

“Mmm, but you’re so smart already, bambina..my smart girl.” He smiled into your neck, loving how flustered you had become.

He knew exactly what he was doing. Every word that left his mouth was meticulously chosen just to make your knees weak, and Salazar save you, it was working.

“Nuh uh, I’m not letting you sweet talk me.” You stated while completely pulling yourself away from Theodore, much to his dismay.

“I have to study,” you looked at him with a glare and went back to your desk.

Every part of your body was currently on fire. You needed him in every sense of the word, but you knew you needed to finish studying first.

You tried your best to focus on your book infront of you but your mind kept wandering else where.

You heard a couple footsteps but paid no mind to whatever Theodore had decided to occupy himself with.

A couple seconds passed before you turned your head to see Theodore pulling up a chair and sitting next to you.

“Theodore, what are you doing?” You asked with a tinge of annoyance, but you couldn’t stay mad at him, not when he looked at you like that.

“ I want to help you study,” he stated while noticing your doubtful glare “I really do, no games I promise, principessa.” He assured you.

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes at his boyish grin he let slip across his face.

You began reading the questions out loud, allowing him to help you answer a few of them aswell.

“Let’s make it fun, yeah?” He asked after another handful of questions had been answered.

“How do you mean?” You asked while writing a few things down with your quill.

“I’ll worry about that, you keep reading.” He ordered softly, his hands moving the hair away from the side of your neck he was facing.

You did your best to ignore him and went back to the book, focusing on the words instead of your very needy boyfriend’s hand creeping up your thigh.

His lips continued where’d they’d left off from earlier , finding specific spots that got you squirming and focusing on them.

“Theodore.. I t—I told you I need to study..” you managed to get out in between your harsh breaths.

“Mm, you work so hard, can’t have my Bella ragazza overworked…” he groaned, his hands tracking under your skirt.

“I—i” you tried to to get a complaint out, but Theodore was quick to shut you up once his hands reached your already wet core.

He let out a gutteral moan at the feeling of your wetness coating his fingers.

“See how wet you are baby? Let your self relax…let me help you.” He whispered in your ear as he pulled his hands back and lifted you from the chair.

You yelled as your back hit the bed, him finding his place on top of you not too long after.

His lips wasted no time in connecting to yours, tongue and teeth clashing against eachother with raw need being their motivation.

His hands slipped back down to your core, pulling your skirt above your hips.

Every one of your nerves felt as if it were being set on fire, the arsonist being Theodore not and his Godsend hands.

He gently rubbed your clit and discard of your panties somewhere in the room, not giving much mind to the thin layer of fabric that blocked him from what he wanted.

You shivered as his long slender fingers played with your clit, teasing you to no end.

“Bel bambino, all worked up, I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner.” He cooed at your flustered face.

“Theo..please.” You moaned once his mouth made contact with your neck again.

“Please what, Bella, let me hear you say what you want.” He grunted through his clenched jaw as he slipped two finger into your dripping hole.

“Mio dio, sei così bagnato.” He mumbled under his breath.

You gasped at the feeling of his fingers stretching you out.

You arched your back off the bed as he continued his ministrations.

“I want you too fuck me…please.” You begged while your nails dug into his shoulders.

“Salazar fucking save me, well when you beg like that, how could I say no, Amore?” Theodore teased as he pulled his hands away from you to undo his pants.

You whined at the absence of his fingers but he was quick to pull down his boxers and push his tip against you.

He looked at you through his long eyelashes, as if asking for permission.

“Please.” Was all you could muster out before he started to slowly push into you with a hiss leaving his lips.

Your head lulled back as you felt the stretch of his thick cock set in. No matter how many times you to had fucked, you’d never get sued to when he fist pushes in.

“Santa merda, you’re so fucking tight..” he growled into your ear as he slowly pulled back only to push in a little harder than before.

You let out a moan, one louder than intended, but Theodore was quick to shut you up with his mouth on yours.

The kiss was sloppy, teeth and tongue met in a harsh collision, as his thrusts began to pick up pace.

Your hands gripped the sheets, trying to resurface yourself. Theos thrust became relentless, giving you no time to catch your breath at all.

His grip on your chin was replaced by wet sloppy kisses. His hands found their place next to your head.

“Theo I c— oh my fuck.” You whimpered out.

“Cmon, Bella, let go f’me.” He slurred out through his gritted teeth while whispering some Italian curses under his breath.

Your back arched from the bed as you sucked in a harsh breath of air, feeling everything in your body set on fire.

Your head spun as you rode out your high through theos thrust.

He quickly pulled out and came on your stomach, flopping down next to you.

You stared at the ceiling while you caught your breath.

“You are never allowed to study with me again.” You joked at Theodore, turning your body on its side to face him.

He gave you his signature grin, kissing you like you were the only girl in the world.

[kyri45]

Can you do another q&a

Sure thing

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 18/02✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@snsp6 ha chiesto: Don’t know if this was answered but what was the inspiration for bio parents au??

no inspiration. just my stupid brain not being able to like something without taking my whole life.

@roseltelle ha chiesto: Are you ok with AUs I was thinking about writing a fanfic. Basically with a younger Mk. Events of the show haven't happened yet, Wukong and Macaque aren't on ok terms yet (Slow Burn) unlike the show.

I don't think I understood. You're asking if you can do an AU of my AU?

@mistress-of-nightmares ha chiesto:YOU MENTIONED YOU HAD MK'S FINAL OUTFIT READY SINCE LIKE SUMMER, IS IT GOING TO BE THIS PRINCE-RELATED THEMED??? (sorry for all caps it just came to me and I screamed)

that's not the only one I already had in mind.

@shaya21 ha chiesto: Hey kyri I have a question maybe that was already ask and you answer it, so sorry if you did but does macaque, wukong and mk purr in your au ? When they are really relaxed and with someone they trust, like mk when he fall asleep in redson arm in the last chapter. That’s all And thanks you for making such a good au, that’s something I really appreciate (my life his based on😅)

No I don't think they purr.

@mysticanchorcheesecake ha chiesto: I just wanted to say.. I LOVEEE UR ART AKCIFdkfkdKckd!!! *Calms down mentaly* i a HUGE fan of ur parenting au.. thats it luv u ^^

Thank youu!!!!

@kilani-123 ha chiesto:Does Mk know that Wukong and Macaque are still engaged?👀

no

@deafeningcolortastemaker ha chiesto: Hi Kyri45!!!I have a little question for you and for Spicynoodleshipping.....WILL THERE BE MORE MK AND RED SON KISSED???I'm very worried. I really love spicynoodleshipping, and I would like you to release some pictures of spicynoodleshipping more often.😆 Well, good night to me, since it's 11 pm in Russia.Well, good! It's time for me to sleep, until the next Kyri45 meeting!!!

yes

@angelsbunnies ha chiesto: Was MK freaking out when he got sucked back cause he couldn’t finish adding more details to his little doodle?

poor baby yes he was.

@metalheaded-freak ha chiesto: Kyri, I just wanted to say… thank you, for creating the Bio Parents Au, it’s been such an emotional journey and honestly? If it wasn’t for you then I wouldn’t have gotten into the fandom the way I did. I guess what I’m trying to say is, you were the gateway for me to fully embrace this fandom and not be afraid to show what I do, so once again thank you!

awww tysm!!!

@ddle-lrd ha chiesto: GELLO (help gello lol) IM A HUGE FAN OF YOUR SHADOWPEACH BIO PARENTS AU AND CURRENTLY TAKE YOUR ART COURSE! I really wanted to know if the series will (unfortunately and reasonably) come to an end? Will S9 be the last or second last? (Like before the last season) Again, big fan and big supporter of your art even though i can’t support you financially besides the art course -L0S :))))

Awww tysm for all the support!

Also yes the Part 9 is the last part of the main story.

@peachy-pies-random-stuff ha chiesto: Hi Kyri! Me and my partner have been reading the Shadowpeach bio parents AU together and we're both addicted to it! Also the thing you said about writing uncharted territories..... Should we all be worried??? 🤨🤨🤨

I mean.... yes and no?

@land-of-frogs-and-dragons ha chiesto: Your monkie kid au is gonna get me to watch Lego monkie kid ngl,,,, saw your au on TikTok and went "oh I can't NOT watch this" and haven't regretted it since. 10/10 I love your art style and you draw mk's hair so fluffie I love everything about your art style and your au

thank you! heheh he has fluffy hair.

@pensoul2 ha chiesto: I was looking back at the LMK Bio AU and Redson's hair. His hair got me wondering if he ever tried cutting it. Would the scissors or the object cut his hair melt?

omg I want to believe that yes, if his hair is too hot it would melt the scissor. But I also like to think that they aren't really made of hair. It's they fluctuate between solid and plasma.

@shaya21 ha chiesto: Hiiiiiii I wanted to ask, you drew redson in bloom outfit from Winx. Do you think you can do macaque in musa outfit ? Oh and thanks for your amazing shadowpeach bio parents au it's amazing

@mysticewya already did the whole wix club team as LMK character, you should check them out.

@onyxxess ha chiesto:hiii!! ive been a fan of your artwork for a whole, esp the shadowpeach bio parent au. theres one thing i havent been clarified withCan we make edits of your art and post it on other socials like tik tok or insta?? (with creds)i would really love editing your artwork!

Yes you can. with credit. I'm both "kyri45" on IG and TT

@misagiiza ha chiesto: Hi Kyri45! My name is Izadora and I'm a huge fan of yours. I'm Brazilian and would love to translate your comic so other people could have the opportunity to know your talent!

Thanks, Iza.

Hello Izadora, there's already user "wukong_lmk" on TikTok that's doing the brazillian translation

@twilight-bai-he ha chiesto: Will we see a dance party in the celestial realm lol 😆🩷🩷😊

yup

hellopollon ha chiesto: Wait, so Macaque's scroll is close to theirs too or...?

Yup!

@mkthemonkiekiddd ha chiesto: Have you ever thought about doing different lmk AU’s after the current AU youre working on? (Like for example, infection AU, swap Au, etc.)

mm nope. I prefer to keep building on what I've already created

@whatdaflippityfloppity ha chiesto: I absolutely adore your comics and the way you draw Nezha! (He's my favourite character and needs more screen time and ✨angst✨ T-T) Quick question; Is Nezha ever going to rebel against his father? 🥺 Maybe to like, stop his father from using the pagoda or something?

he did it in the past multiple times he will most likely do it again

[katiascraft]

✐ᝰ "You knew all too well i was right where you left me" | CL16 ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊

parings: retired!charles leclerc x writer!ex!reader

series summary: It’s the story of a woman frozen in the moment her world fell apart. A perfect dinner ended with, “I met someone else,” and while everyone moved on, she remained stuck in that instant, unable to let go of the past. A poignant tale of heartbreak, grief, and the weight of being trapped in a “forever” that never was.

🔎 chapter one: “love is short but forgetting is so long”

🔎 chapter two: “did the love affair mail you too?”

🔎 chapter three: “you kept me like a secret but I kept you like an oath”

chapter four: “help, I’m still at the restaurant” -> chapter five

‼️ best friends in this chapter: nikola (nik) , dorothy (dottie) and beatrice (betty). They all know each other from Oxford University where the four of them studied creative writing.

word count: +5,1k.

BLOG MASTERLIST - series masterlist

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

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agostinabff: hope you have a lovely week off mon amour!! You deserve it. We love you 💘

↳ yourusername: thank u for being the best part of my life 💌

y/nstan: omg GIRL we are the same person wtf 😭

user4: who is he and where can i find him to KILL HIM?????

nikolabff: is my air bnb recommendation good enough ????? (That looks disgusting, uber eats exists darling)

nikolabff: can't wait for tomorrow!! London should be scared of us 😈

nikolabff: did dorothy call you? She isn't answering my calls

↳ yourusername: babes!!!! Aaaaaa i'm so excited. I just ended call with dottie. She arrived safe and well, i missed you guys so much 😭 did betty text you?

↳ nikolabff: tbh she didn't but you know how she is. can't wait to see you all tomorrow!!

arthurleclerc: hey y/n i know this may be weird but just wanted to say, i read your book and it is amazing! my brother was an idiot you know? you are an amazimg person im sure you'll find someone who loves you deeply (if you didn't already. maybe you did) okay, i don't bother you any longer. hope we can meet again someday!

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ a week ago 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“There'll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you. Both of these things can be true. There is happiness, past the blood and bruise, past the curses and cries. Beyond the terror in the nightfall haunted by the look in my eyes that would've loved you for a lifetime and leave it all behind. Tell me, when did your winning smile begin to look like a smirk? When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt? I hope she'll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you. No, I didn't mean that. Sorry, I can't see facts through all of my fury. You haven't met the new me yet” you read that piece out loud from your personal journal to your therapist. She stayed silent for a while. You looked over at her knowing you skipped some parts but what you read in the end sank in.

“I think there’s a lot to discuss from just that single piece you wrote. But I wanna ask you something before anything else: do you really believe there will be happiness after him?” your therapist made you a question that felt like daggers pinching you that resulted in leaving you breathless for a few seconds. you loved and hated therapy for this reason. There were things you couldn’t question by yourself  because you never thought about it and things you didn’t know how to answer like this one.  

“I wish I could say yes. But i don't think i’ve been happy since he left” saying that out loud hurt yourself even more. It was not something easy to admit and accept.  But it was the truth. You have never felt really happy since then. 

She nodded, writing down in her notebook “but do you believe you can be happy without him? Why is he still so important or has so much space in your life that you can't be happy if he isn’t there? Why were you happy when he was with you?” as always, too many questions with so few answers. You felt exhausted, frustrated by the fact you didn't know what to think about it all. 

“I'm sure I want to be happy, I can't live like this anymore. I'm tired” you assured her and  yourself. You took a few seconds to think and she respected that. “I guess if I want to then I can, right? I mean, I talk to my friends and all of them tell me time and time again ‘don't let what happened define you’ and I try but I don't know why it is really hard for me” you explained looking at the floor. 

“And what’s that definition of yourself?”

“That i'm not worthy of love i guess. that there will always be someone better than me, more attractive, more lovable, more interesting. I can't be the one, for anyone” admitting it felt like an elephant stepped on you and you just died in the act. Your therapist, Maria, nodded looking at you. 

“Well, but in what you wrote you tell this woman he left you for, that you hope she is a fool like you, right?” she intervened. You nodded. “What can you tell me about it?”

You looked at your hands a bit sweaty. “I really don’t know. I mean her existence made me compare myself to her. She is so different. It made me feel all of those things I said before. And maybe i blamed her existence because if she didn't existed then, charles would still be here” 

“You think so?” 

“I guess, yeah” you looked at her. She wrote down more stuff on that notebook you were so intrigued by. 

“So, for you, there doesn't exist the possibility that maybe he just stopped loving you? Like even if she existed or not - could be any other woman or could be no one at all. Would it hurt more if he just stopped loving you?” you felt your brain make a 180 turn on itself. 

“I don’t know. Maybe, yeah, I mean. I Think it’s easier to blame someone then not have an explanation for it” your therapist nodded. 

“So,  why would she occupy your same place then? If you are different from each other, why would she be just like you? As a replacement it seems and at the same time who’s at fault for all of this situation and insecurities. And before you answer, I think we can connect that to what happened between your dad and mom, right?” she saw your face so confused she knew this was gonna be the end of the session so you could think about it during the next two weeks. “You told me you discovered your dad cheated on your mom. So all you ever dreamed was to find someone who would be better than him, to prove yourself that that isn’t your destiny, just like your mom. And then Charles left you for this other girl. And everything you built up in your mind to try to believe in love and to escape from the reality you had to live through, then it crumbled down in that instant. Leaving you feeling like there was no way you could be worthy of love, because you tried but Charles did exactly what your dad did to your mother. And since then you couldn’t date anyone else. This is a theory, I'm not saying it is what it is of course. But it seems that if they didn't exist then you wouldn’t be this hurt and maybe forgive charles,as you said when you wrote ‘and leave it all behind’ just like your mom did with your dad”

Her words echoed in your head for a while. The knot in your throat intensified. “Charles was my everything just like my parents were. And after what happened, with Charles and my dad, I guess I let that define me. I wanted to show myself that the love i’ve seen in books and movies existed, not like in my house. I wanted to make things right. In a way, to mend what hurt me the most. The betrayal of my dad. So I put Charles under that pressure and maybe that made things the way they went down. I don’t know to be honest. I don’t know why I want alexandra to be like me. Maybe that’s another way of convincing myself I'm not the only fool in this mess.”

“I don’t think you are a fool. Relationships are complicated and the reason he decided to leave could be based on a million reasons, and even in that situation. Maybe any of them are because of you or who you are as a person. People are complex and most times messy. Feelings aren’t easy to control or understand” she explained to you. “So, coming back to this new encounter you had with him, how did you feel about it?” 

“It felt weird, very uncomfortable to be around him. But at the same time a force drove me closer to him. I wanted to be closer. Ask him everything and at the same time punch him. He felt the same to be honest. Just like the previous day he left, when everything was alright.” you pulled a face you didn't know how to describe at that moment.  

“And you felt the same?”

“No i think, i didn’t” she nodded and half smiled at my answer. 

“Then, what’s the new you he didn’t meet?” 

“Who i am now i guess”

“And who are you?” her question made you realize you didn’t know how to answer that question yet. You knew you were different, because you felt different although stuck dealing with the aftermath of that relationship. She noticed your silence (because she knew all too well you didn’t know how to answer it) and smiled gently.

“Alright, y/N. Let’s leave it here and continue next session, okay? See you in two weeks”

Who the fuck were you now? 

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Mornings at your balcony were your favorite moment during the day. Your coffee was warm and comforting on a grey and windy day. You were covered in clothes and blankets. You needed that moment anyway. You wouldn’t let the winter win. You watched your neighbor cleaning his living room. He had his window opened so you could see a bit of what he was doing. However, you didn't see him very well because you didn't have your glasses on so it’s a bit blurry. You thought there was someone else with him. Probably a girl.but you weren’t that interested.the only thing you hated about your balcony was the fact that the view was partially blocked by that damn house up the hill. 

After a while, you took your stuff and went into your house again. You felt warmer instantly. You left the blankets on the coach and washed up what you used to have for breakfast a few minutes ago. You had to pack as soon as possible. On saturday, you travel to london to see your college friends and also because your friend franco, another formula one driver you met by chance at a college party, it was his birthday party. You wanted that week to be a good one. Be a week you genuinely enjoy and just be happy.

But after everything that happened the last month around Charles, it was really difficult. Your therapist was a really good help of course. But you hated not knowing how to handle all of these feelings you didn’t understand and that paralyze you. 

You only had one phrase in your head: ‘no one teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you’.

You couldn’t think of Charles as a bad man, or person or anything. Yes, he was stupid. And he destroyed your self esteem. And your trust. And yes, you still were kind of stuck in that restaurant. But you also had some kind of responsibility. And that also troubled you a lot. 

Your self esteem shouldn’t be defined by anyone else but you. What do you think about yourself? Who are you? That was your fault. You didn’t know how that would affect destiny for him to leave you but well, it is what it is yet. You kind of thought that maybe it’s the price you had to pay for putting him in a role he didn't want to be in. maybe you were too much. Too intense. Too dependent. He only wanted someone to talk and have fun with. But you wanted a good husband at 18, and a good father, and the one who would take away your pain and fix your traumas. 

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who hurt someone, but you also hurt him in some way.

Ten years in, and you still couldn’t explain what happened. What did you do or not do for him to stop loving you? Or perhaps you can actually stop loving someone but you didn't experience it yet. 

You sighed, reaching your travelling suitcase from on top of your closet. You almost fell so you had to grab a chair from your kitchen. You loved travelling but packing was a nightmare (also, because you couldn’t decide which outfits were good so you had to take two suitcases and pay extra everytime. Not that you didn't have the money and it was a problem. But you knew it was an unnecessary spend). 

That’s when you remembered how it was like to travel with charles. And you hated yourself for remembering his stupid laugh so cute it made your heart melt every time. Would he still laugh like that? Maybe it was best not to know it. 

If you were younger and he came back, you’d probably forgive him and leave it all behind just to be happy with him. But now, you wanted to leave everything behind: him, his family, the memories, the feelings, the hurt. And maybe that is what changed.

That was the new you.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Your laugh was so liberating. Your hair was free in the wind. He was driving through the Monaco coast. It was finally summer break and you decided to have a picnic at the beach. His hand on your tight. David Guetta on the radio. You were singing along without a care in the world. 

Your fingers brushed his hand making him look at you through his sun glasses in a beautiful cute smile. 

“You look gorgeous, cherie” you saw his lips pronounce those words in slow motion, feeling your every fiber get wild inside you. Your smile was so big and your cheeks pink. He could melt forever just to see you this happy. You wanted to freeze those moments with him and live in them forever.

“I love you, Charles,” you said so warmly and softly. It was your romance movie playing over and over again. That’s how you felt. But when he heard you say those words, his face turned serious. Almost pulled a face of disgust. For some reason you got so scared you wanted to jump out of the car to save your life. 

You wanted to save your life. 

He noticed you wanted to escape so he tightened his grip on you tightly, hurting you but he wasn’t letting you go away. 

“Charles, let go of me” you said almost in a whisper. Your breath was fast. You needed to jump. You started fighting so he would let you go.

“Stop, cherie. We’re gonna have our happily ever after, isn’t that what you wanted?” he said, trying to drive and grab you at the same time. You started crying not knowing what to answer. The anxiety took over you.

“You said you loved me cherie, you can’t go now” he was crying and let go of the steering wheel. You got desperate seeing the car had no control and you were at the Monaco cliffs.

“Charles! CHARLES!” you screamed from the top of your lungs as you watched both of you exiting the driveway into nowhere. All the sea around you. Slow motion Charles looked at you with a huge smile. 

“Happily ever after baby” he said and you looked horrorized. But when you were about to scream again as if that would change anything.

Everything went black. 

You woke up drowning in cold sweat and tears. Your heart was beating too fast for your liking. The feeling you had in that moment of pure confusion was scared to death. For a moment you didn’t know if you were alive or dead. Your room was pitch black so it kinda felt like you died. But you were thinking and you thought there was no way you could think when dead, so you were alive. 

After a few seconds of paralysis, you react and turn on your light from your bed table. You took a deep breath and scrubbed your face to wake yourself up. Your face was wet still from your tears. The moment you were conscious again you felt defeated. It was the third time in the night you were having this kind of nightmares, now three days in a row. You laid back again in bed for a moment.frustration was all over your face. You were so tired of living like this. Yet, you didn’t know how to stop. You grabbed your phone to see what time it was. It showed 5:46 am. You snarled, hating your brain more than anything in the world. 

You got up from bed and went straight to the bathroom to wash your face. You knew all too well you couldn’t be able to fall asleep again nor you wanted to. It has been a terrible night already. So you let your brain win once again. 

You went downstairs to your studio where it was warm. Sun isn't out yet, so here you’ll be warmer. If not, you probably would have chosen the balcony as always. Or the restaurant, although you haven't come back to it since the last encounter with charles. You just didn’t want to go back there ever again. Just like the time he left. 

You sat on your chair at your desk. Eyes tired. You opened your journal. You didn’t remember writing so much like in the past week or so. But you had so many thoughts to write sometimes it got difficult for you to function properly. You just had to stay at home writing non-stop. Not only your upcoming book but your feelings. After the dream you had, a lot must be processed. 

I know I'm probably better off on my own than loving a man who didn't know what he had. And I see the permanent damage he did to me. 

Never again. 

I just wish I could forget when it was magic. 

But I also just wish you could’ve been a better man.  

You sighed reading your words again on paper. You felt worried about yourself. Like, maybe you were broken and couldn’t ever be fixed. You were scared that you wouldn’t be able to fix yourself back up again. Or even thinking that maybe you were born broken so how could you fix yourself then? You were scared there was no way out of this pain, agony, self hatred, nightmare you have lived these past years… or your whole life. You dreamed about being in love again with someone so different from charles yet maybe who makes you feel the same high. Or maybe higher erasing every trace of him or memory of your dad. Now lines were blurry. You didn’t want to think about your dad, not only because he was gone and you couldn’t do anything about it, but because it felt weird linking him in some way to charles, but if your therapist said so, maybe you were more troubled than you thought. 

Would there be a good guy? Do they even exist? You guessed you’ve never met one of them yet. 

I hold onto this pride because, these days, it's all I have. And I gave you my best, and we both know you can't say the same. 

Were you writing about him? Or about your dad?

You stared at the wall thinking about the answer that never came around. 

Just like the both of them did when it came to you. 

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

It was 10 am in the morning already. You didn’t sleep a bit. You’ve been in a zoom meeting since 8. Talks about the movie in the making were held. Casting started so they sent you a few ones they think are perfect for the roles so you have to watch them after the meeting. Also, they go through the aesthetic and changes they will make from the book, and that’s why this meeting has been so long. They needed to discuss everything with you to make sure you agreed. They wanted to be respectful with your work and you appreciate it very much. It made you feel important. In other news, they thought that taylor swift could make the soundtrack for the movie and you got very excited about it. You loved Taylor's songwriting and believed (and were almost sure) she would make the perfect song for the movie. 

It was gonna be a long day ahead, full of work and watching hours of footage from castings. But it was for your dream. You still couldn’t believe you had your book be a movie in the making. It still feels surreal. 

Then you remembered charles’ ex followed you and liked your posts. And you were mad at him again. You were sure (no doubts at all for real), she didn't know who you were. Because he kept you buried like you were sin. 

A part of you wanted to believe he did it because he knew he fucked up and didn’t want people to judge him for his lack of sympathy towards his last lover. But at the same time you just found it cruel behavior with no reason at all to do that. You kinda felt dirty as if you were bad. Very bad. Banned from his life. 

You shook your head, getting yourself back to the present time and starting working again. Your lack of rest doesn't help in getting distracted with thought every minute but you were doing the best you could. Plus, work helps you not to think about anything else. And that’s good. 

You really needed a break from thinking. 

⋆˚࿔ finally the london trip arrived 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

yourusername made a post

liked by nikolabff, beatricebff, francolapinto, landonorris and 678,435 others

yourusername: first few days back in london = first few days of happiness ❤️‍🩹

tagged: @nikolabff , @beatricebff , @dorothybff and @francolapinto

view more comments

user345: girl is happy we are happy

user3: omg such QUEENS

↳ francolapinto: i guess ur not talking about me

↳ user3: oh im so talking about you too

↳ francolapinto: 🤨

nikolebff: the girls girled

dorothybff: happy looks very hot on you darling 🫦

beatricebff: can you kiss already??????

↳ yourusername: no ❤️

nikolabff: gossip so good bro was giggling and kicking his feet

↳ francolapinto: it was indeed

↳ alexalbon: better bring that gossip to the paddok asap

↳ yourusername: it's CONFIDENTIAL

↳ alexalbon: booooooo ur so boring

↳ oscarpiastri: i wanna be part of this group please

↳ nikolabff: yes you can sir

↳ francolapinto: i thought no one else was allowed

↳ nikolabff: stfu 🩷

User231: i love this crossover of y/n and formula 1 drivers. I would've never expected it tbh

↳ franstan: same!!! I love it!! Didn't know she was friends with franco

↳ user354: i think they met a few years ago, y/n was asked about it on insta questions and she said they met randomly at a college party

↳ franstan: interesting

User1: girl!!! You look so good omg

francolapinto: te amo amiga so happy to see you happy ❤️‍🩹

↳ yourusername: te amo tambien ❤️‍🩹

↳ user778: EXCUSE YOU ???????

↳ franstan7: OMG OMG OMG

user4: WHAT IS HAPPENING ?

user324: so no one is gonna talk about lando world champion fucking norris being on the likes ????? 🤨🤨🤨🤨

↳ landostan: that was what i was thinking

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ finally the london trip arrived 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Laughter was all over the place as well as a lot of bottles of alcohol with names you haven’t seen in your life. It was finally Saturday night, which meant it was Franco's birthday celebration. And because it was his birthday of course all the decorations were argentina flags everywhere and boca junior club t-shirts for everyone, including you. As you got to his house you were given one at the door to wear it. Fortunately, for you it didn’t ruin your outfit and I could say it looked great on you. Or well, that’s what franco said to you while preparing you a drink you haven’t ever tried before. He said it was called fernet with coke. You were already a bit drunk because you were drinking vodka with the girls while getting ready. You didn’t like vodka that much but after everything that happened in your life, you kinda felt the urge to drown in vodka or tequila. Mi gente latino music was playing non-stop. You knew Franco loved duki and bizarrap, and they were actually at the party. You couldn’t talk to them yet. So everything was a bit crazy even if you weren’t that many people. He was just a close friend to franco. So i guess it was like 60 people. Way too many people to be honest but for a famous 2 times world champion it was really a small amount of people so it was super intimate. 

“There you go, hermosa” he said, handing you the glass full of black liquid. You looked at it a bit worried in a funny way and grabbed it. He let out a cute laugh. “Try it, you’re gonna like it, i promise” he encouraged you. He couldn’t resist the view of you with that boca juniors on. Probably, the combination of you and that was his heaven made on earth. He was really down for you, since it felt like forever. Probably since that night at that party back 6 years ago or so. You always have a different light that anyone can match. and that’s what he liked most about you along with your authenticity. You were so unique to him. He looked at you biting his lip a little trying not to be so obvious. 

You tried the drink looking into his eyes. You were really close  but you felt really comfortable. Your friends have left you alone with him the minute he came forward to  you, of course. They really believed you could work out with him. And after vodka and long talks about it with them, maybe you would give it a try. But it scared you, you didn’t want to use him as a friend. So it was a risky situation in your opinion. Although, you could see he liked you for a long time now. And you found him funny and really attractive in your opinion. You give it a few more sips to taste it fully. “Oh I think I like it,” you said, giving him a funny smile. 

“I told you. I’m the best fernet preparer in this whole country… and also, I did it with love just for you” he said, making you laugh and blush after the last sentence he said. 

“I’m sure it’s the love you put in it” you gave it another sip looking at him. His face turned red and let out such a cute giggle. Alcohol was making you melt for your best friend? We guess so.

He got closer grabbing your waist and planted a sweet kiss on your cheek making you nervous as you never felt for a long time. However, it felt weird. Maybe as if this shouldn’t be happening. 

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Franco’s house was enormous. The party was being held at the gallery near his garden. It was cold but the lights and the people stuck to each other made it warmer. You were with your girls again dancing to bad bunny and los del espacio songs. You didn’t understand a word because Spanish was definitely not your talent. You tried to learn because of Franco, and he tried to teach you, but failed every time. You did learn a few words anyway but speaking fluidly was something you won’t ever do. Or that’s what you thought about it. It was your third fernet. You didn’t know it was so good. Also it could make you so drunk. And you were way too drunk by now but you never felt so happy. You were laughing about anything and everything. Dancing without a care in the world. Enjoying being surrounded by your friends. Charles wasn’t on your mind nor any trace of him or his family or the history behind you two. Memories have faded away, washed by the alcohol in your veins. You didn’t remember having so much fun since forever. Your girls were right. Life was so much more than Charles, you were so much more than what you were with him. And all of this you have it because of you and you alone. In that moment you felt liberated. Free from the curse it was put on you. Free of judgment. Free of insecurities. Until you saw that damn mullet and when it turned around you felt kind of speechless. Your eyes locked in that man you didn’t know but he was so hypnotic. You couldn’t stop looking at him. 

“Girl! Close your mouth, you're drooling! Is it for franco, huh?” Nikola joked when she saw you like that, making you laugh while shaking your head. 

“No it isn’t girls, is that guy over there i don’t  know who he is but he is so beautiful” you said pointing your finger in his direction unconsciously. Because when you looked at him again he was looking at you straight in the eyes. You almost freaked out and ran away from there. His fucking smile. What the hell is happening to you? Your friends looked over at him as well with no simulation at all. The four of you were pretty obvious. And that’s when another guy turned around to see where his mate was looking over with that face. Nikola almost fell to the floor.

She turned around freaked out, making all of you stop looking at them so weird. Alcohol makes you behave so embarrassing for your liking. 

“Holy shit girls, it’s oscar fucking piastri and lando norris” her eyes were leaving her face for a bit. You grabbed her arms still confused. You didn’t know them but you heard nik talking about that oscar a few times. Betty and Dottie looked over at them again but they were gone. 

“Okay they are gone nik” dottie said. Betty took a sip from her drink. You wanted to say something but you felt someone grab your waist from behind and kiss your head.

“Hello ladies” of course it had to be franco. You smiled nervously looking at your friends. One of your hands placed over Franco's arms not wanting him to let go. You liked it. Or that’s what you drowned in alcohol though about it. 

“Hello mister, i guess we will grab more drinks at the bar, goodbye bye byeee” Betty said, taking her two girls with her leaving you alone with franco. You laughed and resigned. Nik gave franco a warning sign ‘im watching you’ making franco laugh too. And they disappeared through the people dancing and talking. 

He kissed your cheek letting you go a bit so you could turn around to face him. “Hey handsome, where have you been? Are you having fun?” you said surrounding his neck with your arms and he did the same around your waist. He nodded in a smile. 

“Now that I'm back with you, I'm really having fun,” he said cheeky.

“Oh shut up” you said rolling your eyes funny because of his flirty side. 

“Hey, I'm telling the truth. I was with my school friends though ,they came from home” he told you and made you smile while stroking the curls on his head gently. Your fingers in his hair sent shivers down his spine. He couldn’t stop looking at your lips and you noticed. But you liked it so you let him. 

“I’m happy you’re enjoying your night fran. You deserve all of this love, world champion” you said sweetly looking at his eyes so shiny and deep green right now. Your words made him melt. 

And there were you, the girl who can win over the man known for being the most professional at flirting. You always win with him. He is so down bad for you he felt stupid. You were so beautiful in his eyes. So amazing. He hated Charles so much. He even celebrated when he retired. They couldn't even pretend to like each other and actually it was one of the most famous feuds between drivers in the history of the sport. Franco just couldn’t comment anything positive about charles. Even if he tried he just couldn’t. The most infamous moment was when Charles won his first championship and he was asked about it. He said he didn’t want to comment about it because he had nothing to comment about. So franco started to be known as the guy who was nice to everyone except for charles leclerc. And it was hilarious to see because no one knew why. And the why was always you. 

Franco wanted to have you and couldn’t. Charles had left you alone and destroyed another woman. How could he? Franco took that as an insult. You were an amazing woman. The most amazing woman he has ever met and that asshole did that to you. He just couldn’t stand him. Breathing the same air as Charles was unbearable for him. 

All of these thoughts rambling around and neither of you didn’t realize you were kissing already. Your lips melting into each other in the sweetest and softest kiss you have ever had. Even better than any kiss Charles could have given you before. You hated yourself for comparing every guy in your life with Charles, but you couldn’t help it. But this felt different. It was sweet but at the same time it felt so wrong. 

But you couldn’t stop. 

And you didn’t want to.

⋆˚࿔ TO BE CONTINUED 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

chapter fiver: here.

author's note: things are getting complicated around here!!!

tag list: : @a-beaverhausen , @priniya , @annaluna12 , @thehoplessromanticclub , @emryb , @hadids-world , @kaztheemyth , @freyathehuntress , @diorbrxtz , @theseerbetweenus , @sie17136 , @leila-030304 , @charlesgirl16 , @ricciardosheart , @weekendlusting

[nislost]

sugar daddy | chapter 13

warnings: suggestive, smut, unprotected sex

🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼

“f-fuck…y/n just like that” haechan moans as you cup his bulge through his sweats. “you like that?” you smirk running your hands up and down his print. haechan nods quickly while whimpering through his teeth. “please suck me off…please i’m so hard it hurts..” he whines looking at you with the sweetest eyes. you couldn’t just ignore his pleas especially when you were already dripping wet.

as you pull haechan’s sweats down he hisses feeling the cool air hit his sensitive cock. you place light kisses on the head of his cock causing him to whine “please..y/n i can’t wait” he whines and begs, you almost feel sorry for him knowing you can’t get over his delicious whines. giving him some relief you place his tip in your mouth only showing it attention leaving the rest of his cock alone.

“p-please i can’t anymore i need more..” haechan begs as tears fill his eyes as he begins to jerk into your mouth. popping his tip out of your mouth you just smile at him before licking the base of his cock in a long stripe. haechan leans his head back and lets out a satisfied sigh feeling you put almost all of him in your mouth. you hollow your cheeks and begin to bob your head up and down.

your own hand travels down to your soaked panties pushing them aside to play with your clit. you begin to moan around haechan’s cock causing him to whimper behind the hand covering his mouth “s-so good baby just like that….you make me feel so good” he gives you a smile. the praise made you moan around him as you start running your fingers up and down your wet folds before sliding them into your entrance.

haechan runs his hand in your hair encouraging you to go deeper on him, so you do. not feeling satisfied by your fingers you slide them out while also taking haechan’s cock out of your mouth which causes him to whine “i haven’t cum yet” he looks at you desperately. “want your cum in me” you say standing up and sliding your panties down, this brings a smile on haechan’s face.

haechan helps you place his cock inside of you, both letting a sigh of satisfaction feeling each other. “y-your cock is so good…” you moan into the crevice of his neck as you begin to bounce. haechan’s hands immediately find your hips thrusting into you matching your rhythm. “your pussy is so good baby..fuck” he groans, he then brings a hand down and uses his thumb to play with your clit. you let out a loud moan and clench around him which sends haechan wild.

haechan grabs you and lays you down on the couch on your back. this action confuses you for a second until he started fucking you hard. you wrap your arms around his neck holding him close as he’s fucking you at a relentless pace. “fuck i’m gonna cum…” he moans in your ear you open your mouth to say you were too but all that came out was choked moans.

haechan knew you were close too just by the way you were clenching around him. he brings his hand down to rub your clit again so you would finish at the same time as him. “c-cumming” you whimper as haechan brings your knees to your chest reaching even deeper in you. both of you finish at the same time, sliding out of you haechan watches as both of your juices spills out of you. he uses his fingers to push what spilled out back in which has you whining from overstimulation.

“so pretty like this..” he gives you a smile as he puts your panties back on you wanting you to keep his cum inside. “haechan..that feels weird” you whine as you rub your thighs together not used to the feeling of this. your movements cause some drops to leak out which makes haechan a little annoyed. “lemme get you cleaned up and then you can go piss girl!” he chuckles walking off to your bathroom to find a hand towel. “stop saying that every time we fuck!” you yell out.

🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼

notes: second time writing smut i think im getting better 〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜

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TAGLIST IS CLOSED SORRY >.<

[myokk]

The fics that live rent-free in my brain🫶🫶🫶

I was talking with @elliecutte yesterday about the fics I always recommend and think about long after I’ve finished them, & I wanted to document the list somehow♥️♥️♥️ I don’t have an otp and read for a LOT of fandoms so this is all over the place bahahahahahahahah

Unsphere the Stars by cocoartist (Tomione, M). This fic is genuinely my Roman Empire. I think about it CONSTANTLY♥️ It’s the most romantic, swoon-worthy thing I’ve ever read, and the Hermione and Tom are perfectly characterized. You can tell the author is SO well-read and intelligent, her writing is just the most beautiful thing ever, and I find myself just going to random chapters and reading them because I love it so much.

Birdie by @crushribbons ♥️ (Sebastian x f!mc, E). I know I’m so annoying tagging you about this BUT I GENUINELY LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH ‼️‼️ it’s manipulative/needy Sebastian at its absolute FINEST & I think about it a lot🥹 since the second I read it (when you only had part 1 out) I knew I was going to be in for a TREAT…the writing/prose is just 🤌🤌🤌 & the way you write Sebastian made me start to understand why people are actually simping for him😆🫠

One Hundred and Sixty Nine by Soupy_George (Sirmione, T). I read this SO long ago, before I had an ao3 account, and I think about it often. It’s actually much longer than I remember it being because I absolutely devoured it. Hermione travels back to 169 days before Voldemort kills James and Lily, and she has a short period of time to convince Sirius to help her out without seeming like she’s gone mad. I’m the ultimate Sirius fan but I feel like I’m quite picky with how he’s characterized, and this fic gets it right🫶🫶🫶

An Ever-Fixed Mark by AMarguerite (Elizabeth x Col.Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth x Mr Darcy, T). I don’t have much to say except this one, plus Unsphere the Stars are my favorite fics of all time. I think about it all the time, it truly is just beautiful♥️ the author DID HER HOMEWORK in regards to historical accuracy, and I go through every single emotion known to mad every time I reread it. The most beautiful depictions of falling in love and grief and healing and 🥺 I would recommend it to anyone, not just people who like p&p♥️♥️

we are the same underneath it all, aren’t we? by tookajourneytotheunknown (Jack Sparrow x Elizabeth Swann, T). I think this was the first fic I commented on, when I finally got my ao3 account🥰♥️ it is just absolutely BEAUTIFUL writing (do you see a theme here with what I love🤭), and I just think about it all the time😭🫠♥️ the best Jack Sparrow, I love love lovveeeeeeee how the author wrote him !!!!!!! PotC fics are really so hit or miss for me but this one was just amazing. All I can say is that it reads like a fairy tale in the best way possible.

When We’re Older by @writing-intheundercroft (Sebastian x f!mc, E). I simply adore this story🤭♥️ it’s SO WELL-WRITTEN !!!! I love her Sebastian, I love Theo, I’ve actually laughed out loud reading this (Jackdaw😤), I’ve teared up, I’ve wanted to shake some sense into all of the characters. She just does such a good job exploring how it feels to be young and think you know everything when you DON’T, the uncertainty of falling in love, how to navigate opening up your life to another person. I just love it♥️

All of @hazyange1s oneshots !!! & im sure fic when I start reading it🫶🫶🫶 I just adore your writing & every time I read it I’m like ?????? This writing is in our fandom???????? ITS JUST SO GOOD 😭🤌🤌♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

All of @anto-pops oneshots♥️ I’m so weird but I only read them with my morning coffee & it is a strange way to start my day but🫠🫠🫠 c’est la vie. Her Sebastian is so obsessive and manipulative and needy and aldkfksjgkjsjfjdjdjdjsjssjs literally her oneshots hit the spot every time & idk how she does it !!!!

How to Make A Villain by @morelikeravenbore (Sebastian x f!mc, M). I’m not done with this one (yet🤭) but I LOVE IT !!! Aurélie is already so dear to me, and I absolutely love love love how she writes Sebastian🫶 definitely not shying away from his red flags but…ngl I would fall for him too if I were her😔😍

The Call of the Void by @sloanesallow (Sebastian Sallow x f!mc, M). I love her version of Sebastian so much, goofy and dorky and a chronic over-thinker🥺 and Sloane is just such a sweetheart, I love her SO MUCH !!! I’m really excited to see where this story goes, and I’m obsessed with all of the pining between the two of them🤌🤌

Any oneshot by @applinsandoranges 🥹♥️♥️♥️ they’re always so sweet and spicy and aldkfjdhkcjdjfkkdlfkejdjdjdjshshs I’ve been meaning to go through your masterlist and just spam comment soon bc I love them all !!

@rambling-tam writing🥹🫶🫶🫶 I haven’t had the time yet to spam read everything (yet !!) but what I have read so far is breathtaking. Truly some of the best writing I’ve seen in this fandom🥰♥️

I reblog A LOT of the oneshots my algorithm graces me with (idk what’s up with it lately but I feel like I miss a lot🥲). But I recommend all of those as well♥️♥️♥️

[8-0mph]

Hello! First of all i just wanted to say im a huge huge fan of FD and all of your art, you are immensely talented and are feeding the WordGirl fandom so good, we all thank you

I just wanted to ask for some clarification on the comic’s timeline. I know maybe establishing this is not a huge priority, I just wondered if you could clear some of my doubts

We know the comics goes, in chronological order, from 9.5, 8.5, then 1-9 (at least currently). In ch. 1, it states there is a 5 year time skip, presumably from the final episode of the original airing, in which Becky is 11. Chapter 1 is the “present” of the story, and while we could assume Becky is 16, later on in a post you reveal she is actually 17, and Tobey is 18. The difference is only one year and it doesnt really matter much, i just wanted to point this out because I wanted to ask from when does this 5 year time skip take place?

Another moment I wanted to point out is the timeline of Tobey’s situation. We see that inside the alleged 5 year time skip, at least 2 years(?) before Ch 1, Ch 9.5 takes place. We still don’t have the second part but from what I understand, something happened which changed Tobey’s behavior dramatically, back into his old villain habits, and thats Ch 8.5. The thing is, Tobey then spent a year in jail and went back to school after Becky’s letter. That’s the closest point in the past that we have to the present. How long were Tobey and the whole gang friends as seen in Ch 9.5? How long has it been between Ch 8.5 and Ch 1 (starting after he went back to school)? Is the timeskip of 5 years potentially relative to some other event we are yet to see after the original airing but before Ch 9.5?

Also, how old are Becky and Tobey in Ch 8.5 and 9.5, respectively? Tobey states in Ch 5 that Becky and he were never really friends, and later states in Ch 8.5 that she probably hates him. I understand that Tobey’s head is kind of screwed up big time and he’s probably got a distorted view of what’s really going on, but did they maybe have a falling out or something of the sorts before Ch. 8.5 and the present? If the answer is yes, I understand you’d probably not reveal anything because afterall you’re still writing the comic so It would just be revealed later when you wanted to reveal it. Still, I can’t help but ask.

Also this doesn’t have anything to do with the comics but I gotta ask. Your line work is phenomenal, how did you learn to draw like that? Are you self taught or had classes/went to art school? I know this is a really bothersome question for lots of artists, but I’m just so fascinated by your art, I was wondering if you could talk a little about your art style, it really is captivating how well you draw these characters, how emotional all of the panels feel

Excuse me for any mistakes, I just really like your art above like all things in my life right now, just wanted to clear some things in my mind. Again, absolutely love your work, thank you for it all

This is long one.

I will try to cover everything. My headcanon is that Becky was 12 years old at the end of the main series.. In theory she should be 17 in a 5 year time-skip.

However.. When I wrote chapter one I was going to have them all be 17 years old like Invincible in Season one. I changed this because I want all of them to be out of high school now that they are fighting crime. It would make no sense for them to still be in school. Invincible had all the young characters balance senior year and crimefighting but I just wanted to scrap all that.

Chapter 8.5 happens after the events of Chapter 9.5. Here is a timeline:

(Prequel) Chapter 9.5: Becky and friends are sophomores in high school. With the release of the full chapter you already know how Tobey and Beckys friendship started and ended (15-16 years old).

(Prequel) Chapter 8.5: (End of the chapter) One year after sophomore year since Tobey spent one in jail.. Skipping Junior year. They are now seniors. Tobey has returned from jail and under house arrest still dealing with the consequences of his crimes (16-17 years old).

Chapter 1: Close to the end of senior year of high school. Becky is attacked by Rex in a misunderstanding. Tobey visits Beckys memorial when she is thought to be dead. They have not spoken since the night in the park when they were sophomores (18 years old).

Tobey is insecure and doesnt believe anyone would actually be friends with him. With the discovery of Beckys notebook attempting to “fix” Victoria, Eileen, and Tobey he doesnt believe she ever cared about him (Cough the letter at the end of 9.5 says otherwise). Despite this Tobey still believes their friendship was a sham. He was also never close with Scoops and Violet as they never tried to connect with him out of fear. They are right to be though. He is/can be psychopathic.

I am self-taught and my work really isnt all that. But I appreciate it and am happy to hear. I am inspired by animanga. Sorry if the timeline was confusing as well. I never expected to write much of this comic. There are some plot holes and retcons most people have not even mentioned yet.

[whimsyfinny]

Sunshine & Smoke

Chapter 1

Pairing:Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Sam and Dean have been following their father’s trail even after he’s gone, following leads from his journal and tying some loose ends. When they read of an unusual store he used to visit in the town they happen to be passing through, they can’t help but take a look - meeting (Y/), an omega on the edge, and when Dean saves her from a shitty situation, life could talk a turn in a whole different direction.

A/B/O dynamics, eventual smut

Warnings: language, violence, attempted assault

Chapter Word Count:

—-MDNI—-

A/N: FIRST OF ALL IM SO SORRY. I know it’s been months since I’ve posted anything, but tbh there is a reason and you’ll find out soon enough aha. SECOND OF ALL this is my first a/b/o fic! It won’t be a long one, tbh I intended for this to be a one shot but it would have been waaaaay too long haha. Anyway I hope you like it! It’s only been proof read by moi so please let me know of any errors!

Photos from Pinterest

——————————————————————

Shit. Shit. 

“Fuck!” 

I threw the empty pill bottle across my bathroom, watching as it ricocheted off the confined tiled walls before landing pitifully at my feet. Empty. 

Again. 

It seemed as though I was going through these scent blockers and heat suppressants faster than normal, which didn’t sit right. I only take one of each a day. Right? Thinking as hard as I could, my mind wandered back to the half dozen late shifts I’d stayed and worked over the last month. I would take an extra blocker a couple of hours before I was set to walk home after closing - normally around midnight. That’s almost an extra weeks worth of pills I’d used… Shit. 

“No use fretting over it now,” I muttered to myself as I hastily applied my mascara, almost blinded by the harsh white light framing the bathroom mirror. I took a step back as I finished acknowledging that my hair wasn’t going to play ball today and to just roll with the shitty cards the universe had dealt me. With already slightly smudged make up, I huffed in annoyance before I strode into my bedroom and threw on the outfit I’d laid out for myself. I poked my fingers through my tights three times, pulled the button off my shorts, stabbed myself with the safety pin I had used to replace said button, and got a white deodorant stain on the side of my black tank top. Luckily my flannel hid the stain and my boots went on without incident, allowing me to leave my apartment with an almost level head. I just had to pray to anything or anyone that would listen that I would make it to work unscathed. 

And that I didn’t catch the attention of any dickhead alphas.

Deans POV

“Hey Sammy, I remember dad saying something about a Hunters store around here,” I said over the music, one hand tapping the wheel and the other hanging out the window. The sun was out for once, and with it being late spring, the temperature was comfortable enough to drive slow with the windows down. The scent of food and freshness wafted on the warm breeze as I looked around, hoping my memory was serving me right.

“Yeah I think you’re right Dean,” Sam said, flicking through the pages of dads journal until he found what he was looking for. “‘Deadmans’ Emporium’, he wrote that it poses as a holistic store but doubles as a Hunters shop. He mentions a password though to get access.” 

“A password? Seriously? Did he write the magic word down?” I shook my head - these people should know a freakin’ Hunter when they see one. I continued to look out the window as I heard the turning of pages, listening as Sam searched for an answer. I took a deep breath, guessing dad didn’t write it down. Fucking typical. As I inhaled, the most delicious smell filled my senses - it was almost mouth watering, and I could practically feel the saliva pooling over my tongue.

“Shit, do you smell that? There must be a pie shop around here,” I pulled over and parked against the curb before Sam had a chance to say anything. Just as I was about to get out, he sighed. 

“Dean I don’t smell anything, you’re thinking through your stomach again.”

I sniffed the air again, practically tasting the apple and cinnamon as we both stepped out of the car, the metal doors creaking before they were slammed shut.

“Dude, are you getting sick? You seriously can’t smell that?” I frowned at him as we both stood on the sidewalk, my gaze travelling up and down the rows of shops and cafes; not spotting a single bakery or pie store. 

Well that's fucking weird.

I took a step back, the scent felt closer than before and with my stomach distracting me, I didn't see the person walking behind me until I'd bumped into them.

“What the fuck - watch where you're going!”

A sharp yet feminine voice cut through the air, and I turned to face her just in time to see her rip off her headphones. Before I could even get a word out, an unmistakable scent of anger and apprehension surrounded me, almost blotting out the heavenly smell from before. There was no mistaking it; she was an omega. And a grumpy one at that.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there - no need to bite my head off, geez,” I held my hands up in mock surrender, the bitterness of her frustration fading from my senses. She clicked her tongue against her teeth before shoving her headphones back on.

“Alphas,” was all she muttered before storming away.

I lowered my hands as Sam tentatively came to stand beside me, as though he was wary that the feisty omega would suddenly race back and punch him.

“What was that all about?” He breathed, as he watched after her.

I shrugged.

“Fuck if I know. She definitely wasn’t on scent blockers, that’s for sure. Could sense her bad mood a mile off.” I couldn't help but glance around a little more, hoping to catch sight of that hidden pie shop that was so clearly evading us. Upon realising that it was nowhere to be found and the previously lingering scent had now diminished with the breeze, I gave up on those efforts and went back to the task at hand: finding that Hunter store.

Y/Ns POV

The shop was the same as it was every day; with boxes and baskets of hundreds of different crystals and rocks and charms stacked neatly against the walls. Incense  lined one of the walls in varying types, colours and quantities, whilst all manner of candles cluttered a table in the middle of the room. Suncatchers hung in the open window, splattering rainbows onto every surface as wind chimes sung in the soft breeze. Everything from body jewellery to oil burners was available for purchase.

“You look like a ray of fucking sunshine,” my beta colleague, May, chirped from behind the counter as she shuffled her tarot deck, long nails and rings clacking together.

“Thanks, that makes me feel loads better,” I rolled my eyes at her, quickly dumping my backpack and headphones in my locker out back before returning to her at the main desk. “I ran out of scent blockers and heat suppressants this morning and I haven't had a heat for a while. I'm just on edge, I guess, knowing it could arrive any day now.”

Her expression softened as I sat on an old bar stool beside her, leaning across the counter.

“You want me to give you something herbal for it?”

I couldn't stop my nose from scrunching.

“That stuff literally tastes like dirt. Plus it's bitter.”

May grinned.

“It's not supposed to taste good, you know that right? It's medicine. Medicine never tastes good.”

“Yeah well, I'd rather wait for more pills thanks. I felt like I was burping up mud for a week the last time you gave me that goop.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, returning to shuffling her cards.

No more than half an hour had ticked by when the bell jingled and the door to the shop opened. I’d been organising the body jewellery display when I looked up to greet them, a forced smile on my lips.

“Good morning! Welcome to Deadman’s.”

“Hi- oh, Sammy, look who it is - it’s little miss sunshine.”

The moment he opened his mouth to talk, I remembered him straight away from this morning. How could I forget the alpha who stood on my foot and brushed his arm against mine, leaving behind an annoyingly pleasant scent behind - something akin to woodsmoke and fresh leather. It took a lot of deep breathing during the rest of my walk and ten minutes standing next to the burning sandalwood as soon as I arrived to get rid of it. I couldn’t help but huff and roll my eyes, glancing over at May who was laying a complex spread of tarot and oracle cards combined, looking for any sort of assistance from her. Yet, unsurprisingly, she looked at the two men and nodded, throwing me a wink and a thumbs-up. Not what I needed. 

“What can I say,” I said eventually in a dull tone, crossing my arms, “I’m always so thrilled when an oblivious alpha stands on my foot.”

The taller of the two chuckled slightly before shrugging, knowing that I was likely completely in my right to feel defensive from the get-go here. The broader one simply widened his eyes and scratched the back of his neck, looking more apologetic than before. 

“Yeah,” he looked me dead in the eye, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - I was looking for pie.”

“Pie?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, pie,” he said again, without any further elaboration. 

“Ooh!” May suddenly perked up, clapping her hands as her bracelets jingled loudly, “apparently (Y/n) smel-”

“Ok!” I practically jumped in front of her, cutting her off abruptly and saving myself from any possible embarrassment that she might spew about me. I glanced towards the door where the two men were still standing, watching us with slight amusement. 

“Anyway,” I started, smoothing the invisible wrinkles from my tank top, “Is there anything we can help you gents with today?”

They seemed to both suddenly remember why they were here and stepped further into the shop, clearing their throats as their boots thudded against the exposed floorboards. 

“Uh, yeah, we’re looking for a shop that sells what might be considered unusual or… occult… items, and we’ve been led to this place by our dad. Apparently he used to be a regular here.”

May and I shared another look, this time one of caution as she stopped what she was doing and I placed the box of body jewellery down on top of the display cabinet. 

“Huh,” I bit my lip as I watched the two strange men shift under our sudden scrutinous gazes. With my arms now folded across my chest, I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, letting the silence hang for a second. “So… who’s your daddy dearest?”

“Oh uh, his name was John. John Winchester,” the tallest one spoke, a sudden sadness on his features, vanishing as soon as it appeared.

The air suddenly felt cold in my lungs. He said ‘was’. John Winchester ’was’ their father. John.

“John’s your dad?” My voice cracked slightly, hoping I didn’t hear them correctly.

“Why did you say ‘was’? What do you mean ‘was’?” May was suddenly on her feet behind the front desk, a look of panic shining in her wide eyes.

The two men looked at each other briefly before the broader alpha spoke this time.

“He died, a few months back,” his voice was gruff with bottled up grief. I could tell just from one look at him that this was a man who didn’t talk about his feelings, who didn’t shed tears in his sorrow, regardless of how smothering it was. And I know first hand just how suffocating that sadness could be. He swallowed an invisible lump in his throat just as May let out a quiet sob as my chest suddenly felt tighter than before.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I all but whispered, smothering my own sadness. “So that means that you boys are Dean and Sam,” I looked between them as May brushed past me into the back of the store, unable to control her tears. They shared a look of surprise. 

“Your dad spoke about you a lot, you know,” I unfolded my arms from my chest and relaxed my stance a little, stepping around them slowly until I reached the front door which I locked with a loud CLICK. They both looked at me quizzically.

“He did?” The tallest one, who I assumed to be Sam, asked with a questionable tone and raised brows. I smiled, yet the sadness stopped it from reaching my eyes.

“Yeah,” I started walking towards the back of the store where May had gone, gesturing for the boys to follow. “I could tell he was proud of you and what you did. To be honest, we should have realised something was up when he didn’t stop by.”

“He came by often?” The infuriatingly pleasant scented one, who must have been Dean, asked, his attention piquing.

“Yeah, you didn’t know?” I pushed open a heavily decorated wooden door, the fabric of the tapestries pinned to its surface were soft to the touch. He huffed.

“No, we didn’t,” Deans tone was abrupt, so I felt it best to leave the conversation at that. Of course, these guys have lost their father and the last thing that they probably want is some stranger barging in on their business. 

“Well,” I started, adding one last final detail before diverting the conversation away, “he always phoned ahead to order certain supplies-”

“Supplies?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, nothing ever too major, normally it was simple things like herbs and specialist bullets, or the occasional talisman or lore book. He was supposed to make a collection a few weeks ago actually; an order for a bunch of books and new rosaries. We should have known something was up when he didn’t show, considering he normally arrives like clockwork armed with breakfast and coffee.” I couldn't stop my lip from twitching in a fleeting fond smile, before quickly dropping it and wringing my fingers awkwardly. The room was quickly becoming pungent with the smell of grief and sadness, the scent bitter on my senses as I tried to figure out who it was coming from; or if it was simply from the both of them.

I wiped my hands on my tights and cleared my throat before leading them further into the back of the shop. We passed through our combined staff and locker room, Sam having to duck under the occasional low-hanging dream catcher before approaching a large steel door adorned with half a dozen locks of varying sizes and painted with a handful of different sigils. I’d already entered the room earlier in the day, so all it took was for me to slide one large bolt across for the thing to swing open.

“Well that’s not creepy as shit,” I heard Dean mutter under his breath as the two peered into the pitch black room. I couldn’t help but chuckle, striding past them and into the looming shadows that reached every corner. Even when I flicked on the light, illuminating rows and rows of shelves housing meticulously labelled boxes, the air still felt heavy and thick as though we were deep underground in a cave or cellar- not a mere backroom. 

“Wow, it’s like an evidence lock up in here,” Sam said quietly, his eyes surveying the area before stepping in.

“Yeah,” I breathed, walking over to a particular box on the far side of the room labelled in big black letters; “WINCHESTER”. “Keeping some of the items that we do under lock and key definitely requires the same level of organisation - if not more.” I pulled the box off the shelf, the weight of it taking me by surprise as it almost slipped from my grip. Before I even had a chance to catch it, Dean was at my side, sliding his arms round the box and bearing most of the weight in an instant. The gasp that flew from my lips when his rough fingers grazed mine was involuntary, and I made the mistake of looking up at him to thank him. His eyes, the same green as a forest at dawn pierced into my own and that familiar scent of woodsmoke and leather wrapped around me, catching me off guard. I quickly pulled away, unable to stop the heat from creeping up my neck and across my cheeks. He looked as though he was about to say something when his voice seemed to catch in his throat, his eyes widening as they flitted about my features.

“Y-you - it was you-” he stuttered, his chest rising and falling a little faster than before.

“What-”

“Dean what are you-” Sam had started to interject with concern before Dean cut him off.

“Pie,” he said abruptly.

“What are you on about?” 

“You’re the pie,” he snapped his head around to look at Sam, “She’s the pie- from earlier,” the tone of his voice was a flurry of emotions and I couldn’t seem to pinpoint a single one to latch onto. Sam simply stood up straight and tilted his head, a look of curiosity finding his features and a small smile on his lips.

“Huh, how about that,” was all he said before May burst into the room, her jingling jewellery always reminding me of a cat with a bell on its collar. Her face was flushed and blotchy, eyes puffy and nose a little pink. She was clearly devastated to hear about John. They’d always had good conversations when he arrived an he had always treated us like good friends or family.

“What's going on in here?” She asked, and I was surprised to not hear a tremble in her voice.

“Well,” Sam began before myself or Dean could even open our mouths, “Dean says that (Y/n) smells like pie.”

“Huh,” May huffed, her expression now almost identical to that of Sam's from before. “How about that.”

The afternoon had passed by without further incident. We introduced ourselves properly and they did the same, even showing us some of their dads journal from where he’d written about us on occasion after his visits. The brothers had collected the items their father had ordered, as well as purchased a few things of their own before giving their thanks and heading out. Evening had rolled around and the sky was flushed with pinks and oranges as the sun began to dip behind the buildings. I peered between the suncatchers out of the front window, apprehension starting to bubble. It would be dark within the hour and I still had to walk home. No scent blockers to mask the fact that I was an omega with an impending heat - the whole ordeal with Deans blissful scent filling my head earlier hadn't helped in the slightest, and I'd felt warm ever since. The walk to my apartment wasn't long, but it was long enough for something to go horribly wrong.

“Want me to walk home with you?” May offered politely as she switched the lights off, draping her bag over her shoulder, her whimsical outfit glowing in the last rainbows from the suncatchers. I shook my head, knowing she needed to get home.

“It's ok, I'll power walk like a bitch and get home in 5 minutes,” I grinned, offering an ounce of confidence. She didn't seem convinced, yet she didn't argue.

“Just text me when you get home, ok?” 

“Of course,” I reassured her as we both stepped outside, locked the store, and went our separate ways. 

Despite my headphones being comfortably on my head, I played no music. As a result it only made the thud thud thud of my boots on the pavement more deafening as I hurried home, eager to avoid hungry eyes. The air was beginning to chill, yet it acted more like a cooling balm for the heat that had started to prickle under my skin. At this point, it was hard to tell if my exertion or my heat was to blame for that, and now was seriously not the time to find out. 

Every shadow painted on concrete surfaces by the setting sun set me on edge, every flutter of a birds wings made my heart palpitate, and every person I passed nearly stopped me in my tracks. I did my best not to pay attention, but I couldn't help but feel the gazes from heads turned when my scent reached them, often bringing them to a halt. 

Halfway. I was almost halfway home when the one sound I didn't want to hear sounded loud and clear, sinking to the pit of my stomach with dread - heavy footsteps racing up behind me. One pair at first, but another quickly joined, though a little further away. With the fear of what could possibly happen to me looming just on the horizon, I broke into a run without even looking back, making it no more than a few strides before a hand wrapped around my wrist in a painful grip and spun me around. At first I was petrified - frozen stiff by this aggressive, unknown alpha that had decided to try his luck. I didn’t recognise him, but he didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary - just an average guy on the outside. Though the slightly crazed glint in his eye along with his almost sour scent and the way he licked his lips was enough to make my stomach churn and skin crawl. I squeezed my eyes shut as he yanked me closer to him, my headphones clattering to the ground when something else happened. A silver lining to my impending doom. A figure, tall and dark and moving fast on long strides appeared behind my attacker, standing almost a whole head above him and with an expression that could make death itself quiver in his boots.

Dean 

Barely having a chance to process anything that was unfurling in front of me, Dean had yanked the Alpha back by his shoulders with a grip strong enough to make the first crunch. The second crunch was one of high impact; a blunt force colliding with a jaw, possibly dislocating it and splattering teeth and blood across the pavement. And the third crunch was more of a sickening thud as a limp body hit the floor. I stood frozen to the spot, my mind unable to keep up with everything unfurling in front of me. Though I jumped into action as soon as I saw Dean reach from the attackers limp body, wearing a face of fury, his fist still clenched.

“Dean- Dean you don't- you'll kill him,” I panicked, not knowing what he was fully capable of as an alpha. Knowing he was John Winchester's son, I would assume he was capable of terrible things, even if they were heroic at heart. Reaching for him, I wrapped my fingers around his arm. He was without his leather jacket now, despite night drawing in, and I was surprised to feel how hot his skin was beneath this flannel. It almost made me flinch, if it wasn't for the fact that I had to do something now before this stranger became flesh coloured jelly on the sidewalk. It didn’t help the situation that passersby were all beginning to stop and watch the scene unfold.

“Dean,” I pleaded, using both hands now to try and pull him away. He growled, a sound that almost made my heart dance. 

“This scumbag was about to fucking run off with you,” he turned to me, eyes wide.

“I know, and he didn't - you saved me, Dean, he can't hurt me now. But we need to go, I need to get ho-”

“I should make sure he's dead,” he made to step forward again, but then something unusual happened. I did something that I've never done before, and in all honesty it was as though I had no control over the words that left my lips.

“Alpha,” my voice was firm yet pleading as I tightened my grip on his arm. He froze. “Please. Please Alpha, we need to go.”

He faced me, eyes still wide, but the murderous rage was quickly dissipating. Silence hung between us for a few breaths before he sighed and relaxed enough for me to relinquish my grip on him.

“Ok,” he said, “but we’re making sure you get there safely.”

Taglist: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @calibootsgirl @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lyarr24 @autistic-gothic @wattpaduser200 @spndeanwinchesterlvr @mxtansy @livya99 @magssteenkamp @redmaro86 @slut-for-evans-stan @spookyysinsanity @localjisung @king-of-milf-lovers @xshortputax @jerksbitch @multifandoms-saidwhat @deans-baby-momma @writersxxx

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies part 6

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone. But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four | Part five

A/N : so I wrote 31 chapters for this so far. Im going to add more to each chapter, change names, and eventually turn it into a book but writing it as a fanfiction really helped me haha

Your POV

Sarah and I had officially declared a holiday hibernation. We spent hours buried under blankets on the couch watching everything from The Holiday to The Grinch, sipping cocoa and making up commentary for the movies that made us snort-laugh until our sides ached. Joel would sit in that leather chair of his, tucked in the corner. He never joined in the chaos, but he never left the room either. That was his thing; being present without actually being in it.

Still, I caught him smiling at the screen once or twice. Just barely. But it happened.

Sarah and I had also taken trips into town, mostly for her gift runs. I wandered behind her like a lost puppy, struggling to figure out what to get her and Joel. Not sure if I even should get him anything.

We'd bump into Mason here and there, and Sarah would go from cool and casual to full-on flustered in three seconds flat. It was hilarious, watching her turn into a complete marshmallow around him.

"He's not into me like that," she told me in the car yesterday.

"Uh, he is constantly bringing up old memories with you. That's literally 'small-town man is low-key obsessed with you' behavior," I'd shot back.

She'd rolled her eyes, but the way she bit her lip and stared out the window said it all. Girl was smitten. Bad.

Joel had been working a lot. Long hours, often gone before the sun was fully up and back when the sky was already dark. But there was always food in the fridge. The thermostat was always adjusted so the house was warm before we woke up. Towels were folded. Wood was stocked by the fireplace.

It didn't go unnoticed.

Neither did the moments right before bed, when he'd walk through the living room, hair damp from the shower, shirt tugged low over his chest, pajama pants slung low on his hips, a glass of water in hand. I'd be curled up on the couch, pretending to be engrossed in whatever book I was holding, even though I had read the same page three times.

It was hard not to look at him. To want him the way I did. And everyday, he made it harder for me to fight these feelings.

———

I woke up before the sun even touched the frosted windows, the world outside still wrapped in a blanket of soft gray. I lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, the chill in the air making me pull the comforter up a little higher. But I couldn't go back to sleep—not when my mind was already moving.

I wanted to do something for them.

For Sarah—for opening her life to me so easily. For letting me into her home, her family, her memories. And for Joel—for taking me in without hesitation, even if he wasn't always good at showing it. They didn't have to welcome me like this. They didn't have to make me feel like I belonged here.

But they did.

And I wanted to say thank you the only way I really knew how—through food, through baking, through warmth.

I tiptoed out of bed, careful not to wake Sarah as I passed her room. The floor creaked beneath my socks, the sound oddly comforting in the early stillness. I made my way to the kitchen, switching on just the small light above the stove—enough to see by, not enough to disturb the quiet that wrapped around the house like a lullaby.

It felt like a sacred kind of quiet.

I worked by memory, by instinct—pulling eggs, bacon, flour, cinnamon, sugar, and apples from the fridge and pantry. These were the ingredients of my childhood. I tied my hair into a messy bun, loose strands falling into my face as I rolled up my sleeves. I didn't bother with anything fancy. Just comfort. Just care.

I hadn't baked like this in a while. Not since a year after my mother passed. But something about this kitchen—the old cupboards, the subtle creak of the drawers, the hum of the heater kicking on—it felt safe. Familiar. Like maybe she was here, watching over my shoulder, smiling in that quiet way she used to when I got flour on my nose.

I liked being up before everyone else. It reminded me of holidays at home, when I'd wake to the smell of apple and cinnamon and find her already at the stove, humming a song I never knew the name of.

Now I was the one humming.

The eggs sizzled quietly. Bacon crisped on the stovetop. A fresh batch of apple-cinnamon muffins rose golden in the oven, filling the room with their warm, spiced scent. I moved around the kitchen with a kind of rhythm, phone resting nearby with music playing low—something soft, something calm.

I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I just wanted them to know I saw them. That I appreciated them.

I lost myself in the rhythm, flipping bacon, scooping muffin batter into little crinkled liners, wiping flour off my nose with my wrist. My shoulders relaxed for the first time in days. It made me feel like I was somewhere between dreaming and remembering.

And I did remember. Her smile, her laugh, her hands.

My mom's hands in the kitchen; tough in places but soft when they held mine. Her humming as she swayed back and forth while stirring batter. Her hair always tied back under her favorite knitted blue and white bandanna she'd worn every morning. I could still hear her voice, faint like the wind.

"Don't overmix the batter, honey. Let it breathe. Baking's about love, not perfection."

I smiled before I even realized it. That ache in my chest softened just a little.

It felt like she was here. Just for a second.

I was dusted in flour, barefoot, and humming to myself when I reached for the tray of muffins; perfectly golden, just like she used to make. That's when I heard the creak.

I turned around quickly.

And there he was.

Joel.

Barefoot in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, hair messy, his body still sleepy and solid. He looked like he hadn't expected to see anyone either. But there was something in his face, his eyes tracing me in the soft kitchen light that made the air shift.

———————

Joel's POV

I was halfway through brushing my teeth when I smelled it—apples. Bacon. That warm, buttery kind of scent that made your chest ache a little. Like memories. Or comfort.

I wiped my mouth, tossed the towel on the counter, and padded out of the room. The house was still quiet. Too early for Sarah. But someone was definitely awake.

I rounded the hallway and slowed just before the kitchen.

There she was.

Y/N.

She moved like she was alone. Like this space was hers. Cracking eggs. Hummin' soft. Her hair was tied up, messy and loose, with pieces falling into her face. She was barefoot, and grinning to herself about God knows what. She looked happy.

And for some reason... that just about knocked the wind outta me.

I didn't mean to stare, but hell, I did.

She didn't know I was there yet, and I wasn't sure I wanted to interrupt her—just stood there like a fool, watching.

Until the old floorboard beneath my foot gave a soft creak.

She whipped around fast, her eyes wide and alert. Caught in the act like a kid stealing cookies.

"Oh, hey," she said, blinking, a smear of flour on her cheek.

"Mornin'," I said, voice lower than it should've been. "Smells like a whole bakery in here."

She smiled, sheepish. "I couldn't sleep, so... figured I'd cook a little something. Hope that's okay?"

I nodded, stepping into the room finally. "Yeah. 'Course. You are welcome to anythin' in this house." I said, "but you didn't have to cook for us."

"I wanted to," she said, brushing her hands on a towel. "It's kind of my love language."

I sat on the stool at the counter and looked at the spread she was still arranging. It felt like too much. Like it should've been for something bigger.

But she didn't look like she needed a reason. Just... wanted to give.

"You do this often?" I asked.

She glanced at me, brow raised. "Cook for people?"

"Yeah."

She shrugged, placing the muffins carefully in a basket. "I used to. For my mom. It made her feel better on her bad days. Made me feel better too."

There was a pause. Not a heavy one. Just enough to understand without needing to ask more.

"Well," I said, clearing my throat and nodding at the muffins, "damn good way to wake up. I'll give you that."

She laughed. And it hit me in the chest again. Like it always did.

"I hope you're hungry," she added.

"Starvin'," I said, tryin' to keep my voice steady. "Didn't eat much yesterday."

She glanced at me, concern flickerin' behind her eyes, and I looked away. I didn't want her readin' too much into me.

I leaned back on the stool, arms crossed, just watchin' her. Couldn't stop if I tried. That's when she turned and made her way over to me.

"Here," she said, holding something small in her hand.

She stood just a few feet away, her eyes bright, hopeful, her flour-dusted fingers cupped around one of those damn muffins she'd just pulled from the oven. The top was golden, still warm, steam curlin' from the soft break she'd made in the center to check if it was done.

"Try it," she said, lifting it toward me like it was some sacred offering.

I raised a brow.

"I promise I didn't poison this one," she said with a smirk. "I can't promise the others are safe."

I huffed a laugh. Couldn't help it. The way she looked up at me, eyes playful, chin tilted just a little higher than normal—she was teasin', but there was somethin' else there. Somethin' soft.

I glanced down at the muffin. Still warm. Her hand holdin' it steady, she didn't move. Just waited.

I leaned in slow, eyes locked with hers. She didn't look away either, not once. My breath caught for a second, then I sank my teeth into the bite she offered. Her fingers were close enough to graze my lip, and my hand twitched like it wanted to wrap around hers.

Then the flavor hit me.

Apple—sweet and sharp. Cinnamon—warm and spicy. The muffin was soft, like a memory you didn't know you still had. Vanilla lingered on the back of my tongue, and a bit of brown sugar crisped across the top, stickin' to my bottom lip just slightly.

I chewed slow.

"I think I'm fallin' in love." I said, but my eyes slightly widened at the realization of what I had just said.

Her breath hitched.

And then—God help me—she smiled.

Not the polite kinda smile she gave strangers. No. This one lit her up from the inside out. Made her eyes crinkle just a little. Made her nose scrunch, and her whole face softened like she'd just been told a secret she'd always wanted to hear.

And I swear right then and there, I never wanted to see anything but that smile again for the rest of my life.

I don't know what it was, maybe it was the flour on her cheek, the way she smelled like cinnamon and coffee and apples, or maybe it was just the quiet look she gave me like she saw through me...but I wanted to kiss her.

Badly.

More than I should.

I wanted to taste that smile. Feel her laugh against my mouth.

But she blinked and stepped back, clearing her throat like she'd just remembered we were still standing in my kitchen. "So... what's the plan for today? Since you're not working?"

I took a step back too, trying not to make it obvious I needed the space. My hands flexed at my sides. "Tommy's comin' by. Him and Maria—his wife. They're gonna bring their kid, Benji. Watch the game."

"Maria," she repeated, like she was tryin' to confirm somethin'.

"You watch football?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation, give myself somethin' else to focus on besides the feel of her so close.

She wrinkled her nose, biting her bottom lip. "No. I mean, I've tried. But I don't understand it. At all. Too many lines and yelling."

I chuckled. "That's 'cause you've been watchin' with the wrong folks. I could teach you....if you want."

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Would you be patient with me?"

I smirked. "I'd try not to yell at you like the guys on TV, if that's what you're askin'."

She stared at me then, eyes dark and curious, lips parted just slightly like she was weighing something else behind the words. And in that stretch of silence, the tension between us grew heavy again like  humidity before a storm.

"I might take you up on that," she said finally, voice low, soft.

Something in my gut twisted.

I nodded once. "Anytime."

She smiled again, but smaller this time.

And then she turned away, and I was left standing there in the kitchen, wondering how the hell a girl with apple muffins and sad eyes had gotten into my blood stream so damn fast.

I stayed rooted where I was, hands in my pockets, pretending to breathe like normal.

But everything about her wasn't normal.

She moved like she belonged here. Like this kitchen had always been hers. That soft sway of her body as she moved between counter and oven, the sunlight catching in her hair just enough to make it glow. She didn't know it, but I was memorizing the curve of her smile. The way she tapped her fingers along the countertop to the rhythm of the music.

I had no business watchin' her the way I was.

But I did.

I couldn't help it.

Then—footsteps padded down the hallway, slow and lazy.

Sarah appeared, hair a mess and hoodie too big for her shoulders. She looked half asleep and completely content.

"Mmm," she moaned, dragging a hand across her face. "It smells so damn good in here. I'm starving."

Y/N turned and beamed at her. "Sit. Coffee's hot, muffins are warm, bacon's almost done."

Sarah collapsed into the chair, mumbling something like angel from heaven under her breath while clutching her phone to her chest.

The second that screen lit up, she perked up. I could tell by the twitch of her mouth that it was him—Mason.

She looked up at Y/N, hopeful. "Mason just texted. Asked if I had any plans today."

I felt Y/N's gaze slide toward Sarah, interest peaking in her face. "Tell him to come over," she said casually, flippin' a strip of bacon in the pan. "Game's on. Easy excuse."

Sarah bit her lip, clearly nervous, but typed anyway.

I sipped my coffee, tryin' not to listen. Tryin' being the key word.

A moment passed, then her phone buzzed again. She let out a breathless, excited laugh.

"He said he'd love to," she said, looking up at Y/N, her eyes wide with disbelief. "But... he's got a friend with him. He doesn't wanna leave him hangin'."

Y/N stopped what she was doing for a moment, "tell him to bring him. I mean I can keep him company or something."

Sarah's eyes lit up. "You sure?" She asked.

Y/N chuckled but nodded. "Yeah I don't mind."

"Oh my god what if you two hit it off? What if he's cute?!"

I froze.

Just for a second.

Sarah kept going. "We could double date and everything!"

A low hum started in my ears.

Double dates.

Y/N. With him.

That same smile she gave me this morning, the laugh she gave me on the Ferris wheel, the way she looked when I bit into that muffin like I was the only man in the world—she'd give that to someone else?

I didn't like that.

No, I hated that.

My stomach knotted. Something dark and unfamiliar twisted in my chest. I didn't even know the guy and I wanted to knock his teeth out already.

Jesus Christ.

Was I... jealous?

That couldn't be right. I was too old for this kinda childish shit.

But the feelin' was there anyway, diggin' in like splinters under my skin. I could feel it rising—tight in my chest, heat crawl across the back of my neck.

I set my coffee down a little too hard on the counter.

Both Y/N and Sarah looked at me.

"You okay?" Y/N asked gently, her eyes searching my face.

I forced a nod, clenched my jaw. "Yeah. Just remembered I gotta check the garage before Tommy gets here."

And I walked out before I said somethin' I'd regret. Before I could look at Y/N again and see her considerin' someone else. Before I had to sit there and listen to more plans that didn't involve me.

I didn't know what to do, but I needed to be somewhere I could breathe.

I needed space.

Because if that boy walked through my front door and laid eyes on her the way I had—God help me—I wasn't sure what I'd do.

—————

Part seven

[fardwader]

you’re too good to me (and you know it, too) pt. 6

pairing: peter parker x fem reader

summary: For some unknown reason, Peter Parker cannot stop finding new, inventive ways to humiliate himself in front of you.

And for some reason, you keep helping him up anyway.

Or, the 5 times you save Peter— and the 1 time he saves you.

pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6

a/n: im alive.... writers block is a bitch BUT I GENUINELY HOPE U GUYS ENJOY THIS FINAL CHAPTER IT WAS PRETTY FUN TO WRITE. thank u all, seriously- for all the love and support you've given me on my first ever fic. genuinely it has been incredible your comments and everything have been so amazing you are all wonderful people who mean so much to me. AGAIN, SORRY FOR THE WAIT!!! please enjoy!!!

wordcount: 2.8k

taglist: @ladylokilaufeyson5, @wlnut, @lonenymphaea, @moon-shampoo, @elfypineapple, @estrellarots, @riki-785

(six)

In all honesty, Peter hadn’t even wanted to go out.

You were at some overpriced, dimly lit restaurant across town with the rest of your friends— laughing over artisanal cocktails and plates that looked more like abstract art than actual food— while Peter was left to wallow in his own misery as he dug through his second tub of ice cream that night. 

Alone. Again.

It had taken Harry forcibly dragging him out the door, citing how utterly miserable he looked— like a man one stormy day away from writing a sonnet about unrequited love— to actually get him to begrudgingly comply.

“You— my sad, pathetic friend— need a beer,” Harry had said, clapping him on the back as they walked through the streets, “and possibly a redhead with an amazing set of legs.

Peter had just muttered something unintelligible in response, nodding along to whatever Harry was rambling on about as he pulled his hoodie tighter around his shoulders.

Because the horrible, genuine truth was that Peter didn’t want a redhead or any form of distraction.

He wanted you.

And the fact that there was no possible way of having you made him want to leap into oncoming traffic—or, more realistically, into a pile of blankets where sunlight and you could never find him.

But instead, he found himself here— on some shitty bar on 2nd Street, elbow to elbow with college students who reeked of stale beer and Old Spice.

The music was too loud, the lights too dim, and the floor clung to the soles of his Converse with every step— Peter already wanted to leave.

Harry was very much in his element— chatting up some blonde at the bar, face slightly flushed from the three drinks he had already downed, and absolutely thriving.

Peter, on the other hand, was nursing a lukewarm beer in one hand as he stared blankly at the wall of bottles behind the bartender— contemplating whether or not he should just pull an Irish goodbye.

Until he saw him. 

The unmistakable figure that was Jonah— clad in his stupid Ralph Lauren polo shirt and those pretentious glasses Peter was 99% had no practical use whatsoever—and a woman who was most definitely not you, practically perched on his lap.

Peter blinked.

But they were still there, her hands carding through his hair as he leaned over and murmured something in her ear— something that made her giggle and cover her face bashfully with her hands, like this was some sweet intimate moment and not a complete betrayal of the girl that he loved.

Peter’s grip on his beer tightened, the bottle creaking between his fist.

There it was.

To be honest, something deep and ugly inside of him is glad that he’s witnessing this— finally, actual concrete evidence that Jonah wasn’t the man you thought he was. 

No more pretending, no more of you bending yourself into knots trying to justify Jonah being a complete dickhead, no more excuses that he never earned.

Peter had never liked Jonah— and for Jonah, the feeling was mutual.

Peter thinks Jonah’s a pretentious asshole— the type of guy to recommend the Godfather for date night and then feel the need to overly explain every minute detail to you during the entire length of it, or insisting on being the “devil’s advocate” during every single argument. 

And Jonah thinks Peter’s way too involved in your life, too close, too available. 

He thinks Peter’s in love with you.

And in all honesty— yeah, he is. 

After all, he was here first.

And sometimes Peter has this feral, territorial urge to just tell Jonah to back off. To find some other college girl to screw around with.

Just very, very far away from his girl.

And now, he’s gotten his wish.

But he didn’t expect to be so ashamed of wanting this— finally having an excuse to break the two of you up and swoop in to save the day when all he can think about is how crushed you’re going to be when you hear this. 

The image of your face flickers into his mind— how your nose scrunches when you laugh too hard, how your eyes shine when you’re telling a story you really care about, how you always try to see the best in people, even when they don’t deserve it.

Especially when they don’t deserve it.

“Yo, fuck. Peter isn’t that—” Harry trailed off, eyes narrowing as he followed Peter’s gaze to the corner booth.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” He said, voice unaturally flat as he set his beer down on the sticky bartop.

“Don’t,” Harry tried, “It’s not worth it.”

But Peter was already up. Cutting across the floor, strides heavy, fists clenched at his sides.

Peter’s mind is practically screaming at him that this— all of this— is a terrible idea. That storming over to Jonah like some superhero isn’t rational.

But he ignores it.

Because when has he ever been capable of being rational when it comes to you?

By the time he reaches the booth, Jonah’s laughing— some smug, lazy thing that makes Peter seethe.

“Hey asshole.”

Jonah looks up, brows pinched in confusion as he slowly gets up. “What the—”

Peter punches him. Hard.

The sound is ugly and rough.

Bone against bone, the horrified shriek of the girl, Jonah falling back against the filthy floor— it all blends together as his heart pounds, the sound filling his ears.

“You piece of shit,” Peter growls, breathing hard— chest heaving as he looks down.

“What the actual fuck, Parker?!” Jonah snarls, grabbing at his jaw, red and purple already blooming at the site. 

“You psycho— what the hell is your problem?!”

“Oh? My problem?” Peter snaps, grabbing the collar of Jonah’s shirt, pulling him up from the ground.

“My problem is that you’re here making out with some girl in your lap while your girlfriend is somewhere thinking you’re the love of her life.”

Jonah’s laugh is mean and sharp as it rings.

“Oh please— you don’t get to act all righteous just because you want to fuck my girlfriend.”

That’s when Jonah swings.

The punch lands right against Peter’s cheek, knocking him sideways into the edge of the booth.

Pain blooms instantly— bright and sharp, and Peter reels, tasting copper.

“Fuck,” he spits, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. Then he lunges again, ramming Jonah back into the booth, fists swinging wildly.

It’s messy— loud. 

Jonah manages to shove him off for a second, landing another hit on Peter’s face— but Peter doesn’t stop. 

Doesn’t even flinch; he just keeps hitting him.

Suddenly, Harry’s there— grabbing Peter’s arms so hard his knuckles turn pale, as he tries to pry him off of Jonah.

Jonah looks at him, cradling his jaw, that same smug smirk still stretched on his face.

“You’re just mad I got there first.”

Peter lunges again, but Harry holds him back— firm this time. 

“Get outta here, Pete,” Harry mutters. “You already got one in. Let’s go.” 

You’re halfway through your night routine when you hear the sound of keys hitting the lock. 

It’s clumsy with the way you can hear the metal scrapes against the door before finally landing in the keyhole. 

You assume it’s Peter, drunk out of his mind from a night out with Harry. So you mentally prepare yourself for a night of nausea and regret.

But when the door opens, and Peter finally stumbles through, your heart stops.

He looks like hell.

There’s blood against the corner of his mouth, an ugly purple bruise already forming near his left eye, and his knuckles— oh God, his knuckles are raw and red, split open at the tips.

He meets your gaze and freezes in the doorway. 

“Hi,” he grins, but it’s lop-sided and weak, like he’s using all his willpower to keep it on his face.

“Peter,” you breathe, stepping forward. “What the hell happened to you? What? Did you get mugged or something?”

Peter’s grin falters. His weight shifts slightly, like even standing is too much effort right now.

“No,” he says hoarsely, wiping at his busted lip with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Not mugged. Just—just punched. A little.”

Your eyes narrow. “A little?”

He winces, then drops his hand and steps inside, kicking the door shut behind him. “Okay. A lot.”

You rush towards him, grabbing his arm gently— like you’re afraid you’ll break him.

“Sit down. Jesus, Peter— sit.”

He sinks onto the couch without argument, his limbs falling limply at his sides. His hoodie slips off one shoulder, and the look on his face is so quiet and defeated, it makes something twist painfully in your chest.

You disappear into the kitchen, heart pounding, fingers moving on autopilot as you grab the pack of frozen peas from the freezer and the half-used first aid kit from under the sink— for emergencies, though you never expected this.

When you return, Peter’s head has dropped back against the couch cushion, eyes half-lidded and dazed.

“This looks bad,” you whisper, kneeling in front of him. You reach up and gently cradle his jaw between your palms, tilting his face toward the light. “You’ll need to ice these.”

He shrugs, gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder. “I’ve had worse.”

“That doesn’t mean this isn’t serious.” You press the frozen peas to his cheek, and he hisses through his teeth.

He takes the pack from your hands without a word, his fingers brushing yours— warm, bruised, and trembling slightly— as you tear open the alcohol swabs with shaky hands.

You lean in carefully, pulling on his bottom lip with your thumb as you dab the swab gently at the split in his lip.

You can feel his gaze tracking your every move, and you make an effort not to meet his eyes.

“This might sting a little.” 

Peter lets out a breathy laugh—soft, dry. “It’s alright.”

You press the swab firmly against the cut, watching as the blood lifts, staining the cotton— you can feel his jaw tense beneath your fingers, the muscle ticking as pain flickers through his expression.

His gaze feels hot as you finally meet his eyes. 

“Did you—did you get into a fight or something?” You ask, voice barely about a whisper.

Peter doesn’t answer right away. His eyes shift past you, landing somewhere over your shoulder like he can’t bear to look at you when he says it.

“Yeah,” he says eventually. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?” you echo, your brows pulling together. 

You draw back slightly, just enough to see his face more clearly. “Peter, that’s not exactly something you ‘kind of’ do.”

Peter hesitates. His lip is still pulled slightly downward by your thumb, your fingers bracing his face— you can feel his jaw twitch beneath your fingertips.

“I saw Jonah,” he says finally, voice low and hesitant, “at the bar.”

Your brows pinch.

“He wasn’t alone,” Peter adds carefully, “There was a girl. She was on his lap.”

You freeze.

Your lips part, but nothing comes out—like your brain is still processing, still trying to piece together the words Peter just said and what they mean for everything else.

“Oh.”

It comes out quiet— small, barely being heard over the buzz of your apartment, but it’s all you can manage.

It shatters something within Peter’s chest, seeing you— hearing you like this.

He watches your face helplessly— searching for any hint of what you’re feeling. 

But you’re just— still. 

Like you’ve been paused mid-frame, eyes wide and unreadable.

“And uh—so,” he says, voice hoarse, “I punched him.”

“You punched him?” Your voice is sharper now, “Peter, what the hell—why would you do that?”

You blink, finally pulling your hands from his face, standing upright like the distance might help the heat in your chest dissipate.

“I mean—seriously? He could’ve called the cops. He could’ve pressed charges or—or fought back harder. You could’ve—Jesus, Peter, look at you!” You gesture toward his bruised face and his split knuckles.  “Why would you do that for me?”

“Why do you think?”

You stare at him, stunned.

Peter’s eyes are burning. His jaw is clenched. And even beaten to hell, even with blood on his lip and bruises on his cheek, he’s never looked more serious.

You look away. “You didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did,” he snaps, stepping forward. “And don’t pretend like you don’t know why.”

You shake your head, backing up a step, but he follows. “Peter, no—”

“No,” he argues, voice breaking around the edges, “You don’t get to walk away from this like you don’t feel it too.”

“I didn’t ask you to fight him—”

“I know you didn’t,” he cuts in, almost shouting. “But I would do it again. I’d rather get the shit kicked out of me a hundred more times than watch you ever get hurt again.”

You open your mouth, but the words catch in your throat. The air between you crackles—too hot, too heavy. 

Every fiber of your being is screaming at you to run, but you can’t— you feel grounded in place, feet stuck to the carpeted floor.

“I couldn’t take it anymore— I couldn’t take seeing the best thing in my life get treated like shit.”

“Peter— please.” You whisper, voice thin and wrecked. “Don’t do this.”

Because you know if he says it, 

“Why?” he demands. “Because if I say it, it makes it real? Because if I say it, then maybe you’ll have to admit you feel something too?”

“I—” You try to take another step back.

But he grabs your wrist—gently, not to trap you, just to stop you from running again. His eyes are glassy, burning into yours.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t sit here and keep acting like I’m just your friend— like I don’t feel anything for you,” he says, barely more than a breath. “I cannot change my feelings for you, believe me— I fucking tried.”

His hand drops from your wrist— heavy, like it physically hurts him to let go.

“So if you’re going to pretend this doesn’t matter—if you’re going to walk away—fine,” he says, breath shaking, “but I’m tired. I’m so tired and I just can’t anymore.”

His voice breaks at the end, raw and uneven, like the last thread holding him together is starting to fray.

“I’ve been your friend,” he says, quieter now, like it physically hurts to say it. “I’ve been your shoulder. I’ve been the guy you call at 2 a.m. when everything’s falling apart. I’ve been the one who waits—always. And I never asked for more, because having something with you was better than having nothing at all.”

You swallow, throat burning.

“But I can’t keep doing this.” He gestures between you vaguely. “I can’t keep watching you love people who don’t see you, who don’t choose you. Because I do. I always have, and I always will.”

He takes one shaky step back, head down— defeated.

“So if you’re gonna walk away—if you’re gonna keep pretending like all of this is just friendship— go ahead, just say it,” he says, “say it and I’ll leave— say you feel nothing. Say you never looked at me and wondered.”

“Say you didn’t want this, even just once.”

The room is too quiet.

You can feel your heart hammering inside your ribs, and he’s just looking at you— like he’s begging you to say something, anything.

But you can’t.

And maybe that’s what breaks him.

Because in the next second, Peter surges forward, grabbing your face in his hands, fingers threading into your hair, and crashes his mouth against yours.

It’s bruising and breathless and so, so desperate— like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into your mouth. 

You gasp into him, but he doesn’t pull away— if anything, he pulls you closer, like he’s terrified you’ll vanish if there’s even an inch of air between you. 

Your hands find the front of his hoodie, bunching the fabric in your fists— white-knuckled and desperate.

His nose bumps yours, your teeth clash, but neither of you stops— you don’t think you physically can.

When you finally break apart, you're both gasping for breath, your foreheads pressed together.

Peter’s hands are still cradling your face, and your grip on his hoodie hasn’t loosened.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I just—”

“You love me,” you finish, the words barely audible.

“Yeah. I do,” His eyes shut, like he’s in pain— like he’s waiting for you to deny everything. 

But you don’t, the words jam in your throat.

You let the silence sit between you, heavy and alive.

Then you lean in again, softer this time.

“Good,” you murmur. “Because I think I love you too.”

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