#i feel like i had more thoughts on this but they disappeared while i was writing the reply

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 6

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content and language, being sick? overthinking? p being melodramatic Wordcount: 4.4K A/C: was feeling inspired :)) anyway pls be patient with me posting, i'm applying to schools rn!! anyway this went a direction i hadn't planned but... uhh... i have no excuses i was going with the flow. anyway enjoy x (also what a scare yesterday just hoping p is doing fine and i'm sure everything's okay!)

-

Before London

You need a ride to work tmr?

I don’t but thank you x

My eyes roam the texts as they had repeatedly since last night, trying to decipher each letter as if some ancient code I couldn’t understand. Is she seriously gonna be like that? Like she wasn’t the one who pulled me in. She kissed me. Why was she taking it out on me now? I don’t got time for this anyway, to be stressing about something like this. 

I hadn’t seen Izara since Saturday, not at work, not in the apartment building, hell, I’d even gone to the gym every morning praying that she might show up but it was as if the girl had disappeared from the face of the earth. I knew she was avoiding me, and I guess she had reason but fuck, I thought she’d be better than that. Not a word since Saturday, other than those strange cryptic texts. Fine. Be that way.

“My favourite girls!!” Trey’s voice blatantly interjects my spinning thoughts as me, Arike, Satou and Lou are sat at a circular table, eating lunch. Not that I had been eating per say, more so poking my fork here and there trying to stomach a piece of chicken now and then. The heaviness in the pit of my stomach made it hard to eat at all.

I lift my eyes, hoping Izara would be trailing behind the man as usual. But it’s Ava instead, holding a notepad and taking quick steps to keep up. I mean I knew it wasn’t Iz before even looking up - there was an uncomfortable void of heels tapping against the hardwood as the pair approach us eagerly.

“Oh hey!” Lou smiles from her chair next to me. “What’s up?”

“So we were thinking,” Trey starts, leaning forward against the table. “If y’all could film some clips answering comments on your own since our dear Zari isn’t here.”

“Uh, where is she anyway?” I ask as casually as I can - though the way everyone’s heads snap to me tells me it was a feeble attempt.

Trey’s dark brown eyes study me for a while with an expression I can’t quite read before answering. “She’s home sick, poor girl.”

Bullshit. She’s trying to avoid me, I know it. I can’t believe it, I thought she would be more mature than this, than faking being “sick” just to get away from an awkward conversation with me. Why was she assuming how I felt anyway? Like the kiss mattered to me? Like I’d want more?

I mean all that was true. God did it matter and God did I want, no, need more. Much more. But she didn’t know that, so why was she assuming. I thought we were friends. You know what this is? Bad friendship.

“Oh damn, hope she feels better,” Arike answers for me, noticing the way I’m gone in my thoughts.

“Y-yeah for sure,” I mumble, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’mma go to the weight room.”

I place the fork down on my half eaten plate harshly, getting up abruptly making my irritation quite clear to everyone around me.

“Paige you gotta eat a little more,” Lou encourages but I shake my head.

“Nah, m’ not hungry,” I murmur and take my plate back, preparing to take out my aggravation at some weights, ignoring the way Arike and the rest of the girls eye me as I walk away.

-

“So how are we feeling about the first game soon?” My dad’s voice echoes through the speaker but I barely hear him, pacing my apartment’s living room. Truthfully I hadn’t thought much about the upcoming game. I knew that was bad. That I should be ecstatic, or scared as hell, but I didn’t feel anything else besides the dread of what happened between me and Iz. 

Matter of fact, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else but the way she looked all night, the way her green smoked out eyes twinkled at me, the way she threw her head back when she laughed at my jokes, when she pressed her front against me. The way her full breasts felt against my chest, the way her round ass felt under my hands. God, the whimper she let out when I squeezed it as gently as I could.

“Paige?”

“Uh what?” I mumble, ears burning, completely forgotten about the call with my dad.

“What’s going on with you?” His secure, steady voice asks, grounding me.

“Nothin’ dad,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes and looking out the window into the street, eyeing every dark haired woman just in case they were Izara.

“Paige Madison.”

I groan. I might be 23-years-old but my dad’s stern voice turns me into a teenager without fail each time.

“You’re comin’ to the first game still, right?”

“Yes, of course,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Why?”

“Nothin’, just miss you,” I mumble, coming up with an excuse for my low mood - though it wasn’t far off. Everytime I felt sad or anxious I just wanted my dad.

“I miss you too, kid. You know you just say the word and I’m there, okay?”

“No I know, I know. I’m just tired I think,” I sigh, my chest warming at my dad’s comforting words.

“Uh oh,” he starts. “Paige Madison… Don’t tell me.”

“Huh? Tell you what?”

“Is this about a girl?” He asks.

I pause, coming to a halt with my pacing. “Hu- I- What?!”

“You always say “I’m just tired” when you got a girl on your mind,” my dad laughs, doing a horrible impression of me.

“No!” I argue a little too fast and a little too passionately. “I mean, no. Just tired. Long practice.”

“Mhm alright,” my dad mumbles, an amused tone in his voice that irritates me in a way only a parent could. “So no girl?”

“No dadddd,” I whine like a teenage girl. “There’s no girl.”

I didn’t like lying to him. I wanted to tell him all about Izara. I knew my dad would adore that girl. He always said I needed a woman to keep me in check - Izzie did just that. But I also didn’t want to tell my dad about this girl knowing it likely wasn’t going to go anywhere, especially now that she had been hiding from me since our kiss.

“Okay dad tell Drew I said hi and I’ll play Fortnite with him tomorrow,” I say into the phone, ready to hang up.

“Okay kid, love you.”

“Love you dad.”

The silence is deafening, again. Like it used to be before I became friends with Iz. I felt alone, anxious, my head spinning with thoughts I couldn’t turn off. I thought she was mature enough to handle this like two adults. If she just wanted to be friends then she could just tell me, at least we could continue our friendship like that.

But usually when I kissed a girl, they didn’t run away like this. Quite the opposite. Did she not like the way I kissed? Was I off my game? Maybe the tongue was too much? Maybe she didn’t like my outfit. I’m a good kisser, I know I am. Good enough to get girls into bed with ease. So what is the trouble now? And I also know that that was the best kiss I had ever had. That our lips fit together just right. Fuck this girl had me going out of my mind. And now I just had to wait for her to reach out, it didn’t feel fair.

No. It wasn’t fair. Why did I have to wait for her? Who said I had to? Fuck that.

Too frenzied to even throw a shirt over my sports bra, I walk downstairs determined, knocking on Izara’s door angrily, preparing a speech of everything I’d been thinking the past few days: Look, Izzie, we’re both adults. You clearly think the kiss was a mistake. But avoiding me and acting like this is ridiculous and stupid and we don’t need to be acting like teenage-

“Paige?” 

Izzie opens the door, voice weak and nasally. She’s in a pale pink pyjama set, hair up in a clip and nose red and irritated. She wasn’t lying. Definitely not. She is sick. 

Quick, improvise.

“Uh, hey,” I mumble, my cheeks turning pink, her red eyes staring up at me reminiscent of Saturday night and the moments before our kiss on the balcony. “Trey told me you were sick.”

She chuckles, looking down at her dishevelled appearance and returns her gaze to me. “How did you know,” she jokes. She’s acting like nothing happened between us. How could she act like that? I guess it’s better than if she actually had been avoiding me.

“Was worried, haven’t seen you since… The party,” I say unsurely.

“Uh… Yeah. Crazy party huh,” Izzie says almost to herself. “Well, anyway, thanks for checking in but I’m perfectly okay. Just a cold and I think it’s passing.”

She begins to close the door but I grab it, holding it open.

“You been resting?” I ask concerned.

The girl shrugs. “Well at first but now I’m just getting bored so I’ve been doing some work from home.”

“Izzie…”

“What?”

“You gotta be restin’ if you’re sick,” I argue, which makes the girl roll her eyes.

“I’m fine Paige,” she answers, but I step inside.

“Let me in.”

“No, you’ll get sick,” she complains but I shake my head.

“I won’t. I’m built different.”

Izzie laughs, deciding it was pointless to try to argue and lets me in.

Her apartment is spotless as always, laptop open on her dining table with schedules and notebooks piled next to it. This bitch hadn’t been resting, no she’s been working and cleaning.

“Izzie!” I groan and close the laptop.

“Shoes! Shoes shoes shoes!” She yelps, voice breaking as she does. 

“‘M sorry!” I gasp and take my sneakers off quickly, placing them neatly by the entrance. I feel her eyes fixed on me. 

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” She asks, blowing her stuffy nose, which makes me let out a single laugh.

“Why, you want me to?” I ask confidently, easily falling into the same effortlessness as before.

My words make the girl blush. Perhaps the kiss wasn’t that bad? Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I should just ask… Ask what?! If the kiss was good?! Bro… Get a grip.

“Well you’re going to get cold, it’s freezing here,” she tells me, turning away and walking to the couch where pillows are neatly arranged, an expensive looking blanket neatly folded on the armrest. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it definitely was not cold, that her apartment was scorching hot already making me sweat.

“Yo, you’re kidding right?” I laugh as I watch her somewhat pitifully curling up against the corner of the couch on her single throw pillow.

“What?”

“Iz, you’re sick!”

“Wow, thanks for rubbing it in my face,” she says nasally, blowing her nose again.

“Bro, that pillow is just sad! You need a nest,” I gasp, walking to her bedroom.

“Wait wait wait, it’s a mess in there,” she yelps, following after me. Mess, it is not. There is one hoodie on the bed, which is unmade. That’s it. I pull the heavy blanket off her bed, grabbing all four pillows and walking decisively to the couch with the dark-haired girl on my tail.

“What are you doing?” She asks as I begin to set up each pillow into a nest against the corner of the couch. She’s grabbing my arm and peeking at my actions from behind my back, clearly confused.

“I’m makin’ you a nest,” I explain, brows furrowing as I focus. This is serious business. “My stepmom does this when we’re sick.”

“A nest?” Izzie laughs.

“Yeah, get in,” I order, grabbing the girl’s shoulders and sitting her down. “Now lie back. Get comfy.”

Hesitating for a moment, Izzie curls up against the pillows as I place the blanket over her, watching as she gets comfortable with a smile on her face.

“There you go,” I coo, trying her forehead which is burning hot. “You have a fever Iz, I’m gonna get you some meds.”

“Paige, you don’t have to do this,” she sighs, looking up at me softly. I want to lean down and kiss her again. Instead, I bring my hand to her warm cheek, stroking it softly. She looks vulnerable, gentle for once. It made me want her even more.

“Lemme take care of you ma.”

She doesn’t comment on the nickname, matter of fact there’s a hint of a smile on her face when she nods. 

“The cabinet above the microwave.”

“Got it,” I tell her, pretty much scurrying to the kitchen, gathering everything you could think - water, painkillers, nose spray, I even cut up some fruit for her. But when I return the poor girl is in her nest, cuddled up, fast asleep. It hurts my heart to wake her up, but she needs these meds in her.

“Iz,” I murmur carefully, brushing dark locks away from her face. She blinks herself awake, rubbing her face. Everything about it makes me want to wrap her in my arms and never let anyone close in case they hurt her. 

“Fuck, I fell asleep,” she yawns. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.”

“You’re sick ma,” I remind her, sitting next to the girl on the couch and watching as she takes her medicine.

“This is so embarrassing,” she murmurs, sipping on the glass of water. Her cheeks are bright red, hair undone and eyes tired - I swear it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her look.

“Izara,” I say sternly. “You’re sick, lemme help.”

“You’re gonna get sick too, and you have your first game soon love.”

“I’ll be fine, I got mad immune system powers.”

She giggles. “Immune system powers?”

“You heard,” I nod, fighting a grin. She coughs a little.

“Paige?”

Oh God. She’s gonna bring up the kiss now. I know it. I can feel it.

“Y-yeah?”

She takes a deep breath. “Can we watch Lady and The Tramp?”

-

“How are you already crying?” Paige asks with a giggle, leaning against the opposite corner of the couch. 

“Lady as a puppy always makes me cry! How could it not?” I sniffle, wiping my nose, watching the scene where Lady doesn’t want to sleep in her dog bed, the poor puppy crying for her dad. 

The blonde is chewing on an apple in her sports bra and black Nike sweats, muscles grown more prominent over her training period with the Wings, arms bigger, shoulders wider, outline of the muscles on her abdomen faintly visible even as she slouches. 

“What kinda names are Darling and Jimmy Dear anyway?” She asks, dramatically frustrated.

“Paige, you’re slow,” I laugh. “Lady thinks those are their names because they call each other those as like, pet names darling.”

The blond thinks for a while, and then grins. “Oh.”

We both burst into a choir of laughter, though it feels rough against my scratchy throat. Still, I could feel the medication already making me feel better. Or maybe it was the company.

My mind had been a mess after I escaped the party. I felt embarrassed, childish even for running away like I did, leaving Paige high and dry. Once I woke up the next morning it was hard to figure out what truly happened and what was my mind playing tricks on me. But I knew the kiss really took place the moment I remembered it, the weight of Paige’s kiss a mere memory on my lips. One wouldn’t forget a kiss like that. It was impossible.

Getting sick had been a lucky coincidence, giving me time to think and take some distance from the situation. I found it impossible to figure out where my desire for Paige and desire for physical contact differed. I couldn’t tell if I was just lonely. Or if I really liked her. I never considered it, me having feelings (if you could call it that) for a girl again. But now as she sat there, looking like that, I wanted nothing but to get on her. To climb onto her lap and kiss her again like we had on the balcony. Without the drunken hue, just us feeling each other.

Even as sick as I am, the familiar burn and ache that always showed up around the blonde begins to grow between my legs, making me squirm. Fuck, maybe I did like her. All I knew I definitely wasn’t in a place to start anything - that no matter what this was it would have to stay casual. I haven’t gotten rid of the ghost of my past relationship. No, not at all. I could see it looming around every corner, peeking through windows, just right outside my line of vision. I wasn’t ready.

Paige’s hand comes over to my bare feet poking out of the blanket, bringing them to her lap and beginning to rub them almost as if subconsciously, like unaware of the entire thing. Except her cheeks turn red as she does. My entire body relaxes, and I let her. For almost half of the movie she massages each toe, the arch of my foot, my ankle, leaving goosebumps everywhere. 

“I’m cold,” I complain, pulling my feet back under the blanket, feeling like a block of ice.

“I’m so hot,” Paige groans, now more invested in the movie, making small comments here and there.

“Lucky,” I groan which makes her snicker.

“Scooch,” The blonde tells me. Before I can resist she’s made her way under the blanket, into the nest, lying behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. I fit in her arms perfectly, like I was made to be her counterpart, born to be in her arms like this, every curve of her body slotting with mine just right. My ass pressing into her, the blonde’s chin brushing against my shoulder, hot breath tickling against my ear nearly making me moan. Fuck.

“I- I thought you were hot,” I mumble, beginning to lose my composure.

“But you’re cold,” she murmurs into my ear, nose nuzzling into my hair as we keep watching the movie. Though I can’t concentrate. Even on my favourite movie. My head spinning too fast, speeding up even more when my pyjama top hikes up and Paige’s fingertips rub circles against my lower stomach, dangerously close to dipping into my pyjama pants.

“P-paige,” I almost whisper, my voice coming out breathy.

“Mhm?” The blonde’s voice is shaky too, a hoarse hum straight into my ear making me even wetter than I already am.

“You’re gonna get sick,” I remind her, my chest heaving.

“I’m good,” she breathes out, shifting a little, her head fitting just in the crook of my neck. Perfectly. “Are you?”

She’s asking for consent, I can tell. To dip her fingers underneath the band, to slide them into my panties. And God I want to give it to her. To let her have her way with me. The temptation is growing nearly impossible to resist.

“I-” I nearly say it. But then I shift to my back, to meet her gaze. Paige’s face is flushed, nostrils flaring as she breathes, hand remaining on my bare stomach. “How are you feeling about the game?”

“Oh, uhh,” Paige is taken aback, pulling her hand back to my dismay, bringing it to her jaw and rubbing it. “I mean, I haven’t really thought about it if I’m honest? I’m excited to see my dad and Dorka.”

“She went to Uconn with you, right?”

The blonde nods. “I mean issa big moment for sure, but I just wanna take it one day at a time.”

I hesitate. “Are you not nervous at all?”

She lets out a single laugh and looks around the room. “Nah I am. Just tryna keep my mind off it.”

I nod, understanding. I wish I could carry some of her worry, I could tell she was more nervous than she let on. But instead of talking I slide my hand into hers, which seems to comfort the girl more than words, her blue eyes locking with mine. She’s thinking, mulling something over in her head. I can tell.

“The party… Iz, I-”

“Shh,” I tell her before she can keep going, my throat going dry, the ache between my thighs nearly painful. I wasn’t ready to talk, at all. All I wanted was to feel it again, the weight of her lips on mine. So bad I felt dizzy.

“Nah, Izzie, c’mon. I think we both feel we-”

“Paige?”

“Yeah mama?”

“Kiss me.”

-

It makes no sense. But I don’t hesitate. Leaning down, my lips crashing into hers with such hunger it makes me uncharacteristically whine. My body is on fire, every inch burning up as our lips slide against one another, boxers growing damp quickly. My hand carefully holds her cheek, like the girl next to me might break. But to my surprise she pulls me on top of her by the back of my head.

I’m tasting for every inch of her, slowing down and taking my time, unlike that drunken mess on the balcony. Somehow this is even better, the kiss of the century even. Her body is cool to the touch, a sign of the fever going down. But I barely register, kissing her bottom lip affectionately, my hands holding her face. Izzie responds, her teeth pulling on my lip harshly making me groan. Her warm tongue brushes over it, soothingly.

I open my mouth further, my tongue meeting hers, other hand moving to the bare waist of the girl underneath me. I can’t believe this is real. That I’m kissing Izara. It feels like some type of dream, but the ache between my legs proves that every second is real. That she’s really underneath me. And If I’m feeling my core throbbing just from the kiss, I’m certain the dark haired girl feels something similar and the idea of my girl feeling such pain and not having it taken care of breaks my heart.

So my thumb dips underneath the band of her satin pyjama pants, feeling the lace of her underwear as it does. Zari lets out a shaky whimper, her eyes fluttering open.

“Paige,” she whines, brows furrowing.

“Yeah?” I ask breathlessly, leaning down to kiss under her ear which makes her squirm under my weight.

“C-can you keep your hands,” another moan as I suck on her neck, careful not to leave a mark. Izara didn’t seem like the type of woman you marked. “On top of the clothes.”

God she’s gonna be the death of me. But I oblige happily, pulling my hand back to her bare waist.

“Whatever you want Izzie,” I say between ragged breaths, making the girl moan as I keep kissing her neck. Izara’s hands wrap around my back, long acrylics scratching at the skin there.

“Shit,” I cuss under my breath, feeling like I might die or cum in my pants if I don’t get to have her. Still, I keep kissing her, fully aware what a privilege it was just to be on her like this. I do everything to try to stay composed, to keep my cool, to focus on putting on my best show as I return back to sloppily kissing her lips, shifting on top of her, my other hand beside Izzie’s face to hold me up. 

As I move my hips, my knee presses into her core, against the sheer fabric of the pajamas making her gasp straight into my mouth. I repeat the movement with purpose now, and can feel the heat radiating off her, the fabric between her legs growing damp. She wants this just as bad as I do.

“Lemme keep going, please,” I whimper, brows furrowed and barely conscious of what is happening at this point. “Lemme help ma, won’t even touch you.”

Her face is contorted with need, chest heaving desperately. 

“It hurts don’t it? Lemme help,” I coo, my lips wrapping around her earlobe and sucking softly. “Please.”

“Paige,” she whimpers, her body shaking with need. But I feel her shift, legs wrapping around my body. “Please.”

Oh God, I might actually cum in my sweats.

I kiss her all over, her neck, bare shoulders, mind spinning with need, my cunt growing wetter and wetter with every moan that leaves Izzie’s lips as I push my knee against her core, gently, so as to not hurt her.

“P-paige,” she moans my name. My name. 

“Ohh fuck,” I cuss, squeezing my eyes shut at the way her voice sounds, deep and gravelly, turning more high-pitched each time I grind my knee into her cunt.

“Let me get you right ma, please,” I beg breathlessly, shaking my head to myself trying to keep myself present. “Please, Iz, would do anything to fuck you,”

She’s speechless, whimpering desperately, but I can feel her muscles turning tense from the pleasure I’m giving her, legs shaking gently.

“Would be so good, just lemme eat that pussy,” I moan into her ear. “Gimme five.”

Pulling back, I meet her gaze. Her contorted face, dark brows furrowed and lips parted, green eyes blown out black. This is the most beautiful she has ever looked. Easily. Could look at her like this forever.

I can tell she’s considering, mulling it over in her head. Just as her lips part the ring of her phone interrupts the moment, the obnoxious sound blaring over the movie playing in the back. Of course. I can never have anything good. Just little tastes.

“Fuck,” Izzie mumbles and abruptly sits up as if suddenly thinking clearly. I climb off her, watching as she fumbles to find her phone.

“Here,” I catch it, handing it to her. It’s Kiran, her brother.

“Fuck, I promised I’d help him with his paper,” she groans, still trying to catch her breath.

“Uh, okay,” I murmur, attempting to catch mine, awkwardly shifting further on the couch, watching as the girl gets up and walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, leaving me there once again. Wanting more.

-

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[extinctlesspains]

hii love, could you do a jun-ho x f!reader fic? where they work together to search his brother and their feelings for each other grows more and more, and they find out that he is the front man and line send him to jail and in the end they celebrate? :)) like smut but if you’re not comfortable you can do something suggestive? 😋 thank you and happy new year !! 💕💕

𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐿𝑢𝑠𝑡 [𝐻. 𝐽𝑢𝑛-𝐻𝑜]

.・。.・゜✭・

.・。.・゜✭・

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʜᴡᴀɴɢ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴠᴇ!

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴅᴇᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇs ʜᴡᴀɴɢ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪs ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ɪɴғɪʟᴛʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ғɪɴᴅ ʜɪs ᴍɪssɪɴɢ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ, ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪsᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜɪs ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜᴛʜʟᴇss ғʀᴏɴᴛ ᴍᴀɴ. ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ᴛᴇɴsᴇ ᴄᴏɴғʀᴏɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴜʀᴇ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʜᴀʀᴅ-ᴡᴏɴ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴠᴜʟɴᴇʀᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇɴs ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙᴏɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ sᴏʟɪᴅɪғɪᴇs ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ɢᴜɴ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴋɪssɪɴɢ, ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ, ᴅʀɪɴᴋɪɴɢ, ɪɴᴛᴏxɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, sʟɪɢʜᴛ sᴍᴜᴛ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

Detective Hwang Jun-ho wasn’t accustomed to working with a partner. He preferred his solitude, his thoughts unhindered by anyone else’s opinions. But this case—the mysterious disappearance of his brother, Hwang In-ho—was different. The connections to the games and the elite network behind them were too vast for him to tackle alone, and so you were brought in.

At first, you were an unlikely pair. He was quiet, brooding, and single-minded, while you were sharp-tongued, witty, and unafraid to challenge him. “Are you sure you can handle this?” he had asked during your first briefing, his tone laced with skepticism.

“Only if you can keep up,” you’d fired back, earning a rare flicker of amusement in his otherwise stoic expression.

The case demanded long hours and relentless digging. Together, you traced clues that led to the games: missing persons reports, offshore accounts, and whispers of a sinister organization operating in the shadows. Late nights in the precinct turned into early mornings poring over files in his cramped apartment.

It was during these quiet hours that something began to shift.

One evening, you caught him staring at a faded photograph of his brother. The raw pain in his eyes made you pause. Gently, you placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find him,” you said softly.

He didn’t reply, but the way he glanced at you—a flicker of gratitude breaking through his hardened exterior—said enough.

Then the time came when you both decided to infiltrate the games, a risk so great that it could cost you your lives. The plan was simple on paper: disguise yourselves as staff and gather evidence from the inside. The reality, however, was far more harrowing.

The days in the compound were suffocating. The guards’ watchful eyes, the screams of the players, and the twisted nature of the games weighed heavily on both of you. Despite the danger, you found solace in each other.

You would whisper late at night in the staff quarters, sharing quiet moments of reprieve. When the tension became too much, he would find your hand behind the closed doors, his fingers brushing yours in fleeting touches that spoke volumes.

It was during one of these moments that he finally opened up about his brother. “In-ho was always the smarter one,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I never thought he could be part of something like this.”

“You’re not alone in this, Jun-ho,” you said, meeting his gaze. “We’ll figure it out together.”

And for the first time in years, he didn’t feel alone.

The truth unraveled during a high-stakes chase. A lead had pointed you to an underground control room, where you found surveillance footage linking the games to the masked figure known as the Front Man. But it wasn’t until you came face to face with him during a violent confrontation in the compound’s main hall that the devastating truth came to light.

The Front Man removed his mask, revealing the face Jun-ho had longed to see—and dreaded finding.

“In-ho?” Jun-ho’s voice cracked, disbelief written all over his face.

“It’s not what you think,” In-ho replied coldly, his eyes devoid of the warmth Jun-ho remembered.

You stood frozen, torn between stepping back to let them talk and stepping forward to protect Jun-ho. The exchange escalated quickly, words turning to blows as Jun-ho demanded answers.

In-ho’s betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound. You barely managed to pull Jun-ho away as guards stormed in, your cover blown.

“We need to go!” you yelled, dragging him through the chaos.

But Jun-ho wasn’t ready to let his brother go, not yet.

It wasn’t until weeks later, after regrouping and securing more evidence, that you cornered In-ho in an abandoned warehouse. The confrontation was tense, a standoff filled with equal parts anger and heartbreak.

“In-ho, this isn’t you!” Jun-ho shouted, his gun trained on his brother.

In-ho laughed bitterly. “You don’t understand, Jun-ho. This is survival. You wouldn’t have lasted a day in my position.”

The standoff ended with In-ho in handcuffs, his mask discarded on the floor. Jun-ho was silent as he watched his brother being escorted away, his expression a mix of relief and grief.

Months later, with the case closed and the organization dismantled, you found yourself back in Jun-ho’s apartment. The bottle of soju between you was half-empty, and the weight of the past seemed lighter for the first time.

“You did it,” you said, nudging him playfully. “You actually smiled in the precinct today. I thought they’d have to call an ambulance.”

He chuckled softly, a sound so rare it made your heart flutter. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Your eyes met, the unspoken tension between you finally breaking free. Slowly, he leaned closer, his hand brushing your cheek.

“Jun-ho…” you whispered, but whatever you were about to say was lost as his lips captured yours.

The kiss was everything you’d imagined—slow, deliberate, and filled with months of unspoken emotions. When you pulled back, breathless, his forehead rested against yours.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

“Good,” you teased, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Someone has to keep you on your toes.”

With a scoff, he drew you back into a kiss. This time it was more rough, filled with desire and lust. The taste of soju lingered on his tongue as he pushed his way into your mouth. His broad and muscular body towered over you, topping you on his couch.

"And someone has to keep your bratty mouth in check..." He whispered rasply as he pulled away. His long, calloused, fingers had a grip on your chin. "You're lucky I've kept my cool around you and haven't let myself loose."

You could feel the heat rise, the need for him escalating in an unhealthy way. Here you were, pinned on his couch. His knee pressed against your core and his lips not far from yours.

"Maybe I want you to set yourself loose." You whispered back. It was dangerous but you wanted him. No, you needed him.

With a slight smirk, Jun-Ho kissed your lips again. It was rough, fast, and needy. His hands scrambled to your shirt, immediately tossing up to kiss your torso.

You were in for a long night, but you couldn't complain. After all, you asked for it.

[wchswift]

ଓ The apple pie life

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader Summary: you and Dean are tasked with going undercover as a married couple in a suburban neighborhood to investigate a string of mysterious disappearances linked to a local HOA. Content: fluff, one kiss, angst (kinda), idiots oblivious to their own feelings, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, demons, spells, not proofread, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 4k a/n: I've been keeping this in my drafts for a while now and while life happens and I work on my dofp!logan one shot, I decided to post this :) I hope you enjoy it

mdni 𖤐 18+

“Yeah, no. This ain’t happening.” Dean Winchester stood at the edge of a freshly mowed lawn, surveying the neighborhood like it was a Hellmouth in disguise. Which, for all they knew, it very well could be. Rows of cookie-cutter houses lined the street, each painted in calming shades of beige, sage, or blue. Even the mailboxes were identical. Dean glared at one as if it had personally offended him.

Sam sighed, arms crossed, watching his brother’s tantrum. “Dean, it’s a neighborhood. Not a death sentence.”

“You’re asking me to pretend to be Mr. Suburbia. Me. You know I don’t do...” Dean gestured vaguely at a garden gnome. “This.”

Standing between the two of them, you held a faux wedding photo that Sam had printed for the cover story. “We’re married. You’re a mechanic. I work from home. We moved here for the good schools. Sound familiar?” you said with a smirk, holding the picture up.

Dean snatched the frame and scowled at the image. “I look like a hostage,” he muttered.

“You always look like that,” you shot back. “Now come on, let’s get unpacked. Our ‘friendly neighborhood welcome committee’ is stopping by in an hour.”

Dean groaned, but there was no backing out. Sam had been adamant: five people had disappeared from this very block in the past six months. The only connection? All were new to the neighborhood, and all had been avid participants in the HOA’s activities.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, hoisting a box from the Impala. “But I’m not calling you ‘honey.”

Dean’s idea of "unpacking" consisted of dumping boxes onto the floor and shoving furniture into place like he was playing Tetris with his life. You trailed behind him, trying to make the house look halfway livable. It wasn't easy; the entire setup resembled a sitcom scenario, complete with ruffled curtains and throw pillows that Sam insisted would help you blend in.

Dean picked up one of the pillows, squinting at the stitched slogan: Home Sweet Home. “This thing screams demon bait,” he muttered, tossing it onto the couch.

“Maybe if you acted like a halfway decent husband, it wouldn’t,” you quipped, earning a low chuckle from Sam.

“Yeah, hilarious,” Dean shot back, hauling a box of what appeared to be mismatched kitchen supplies onto the counter. “This is my nightmare, by the way. Thought you should know.”

“It’s not exactly a dream for me either, sweetie,” you replied, stressing the endearment with a sugary grin. Dean’s eye roll could’ve powered the whole neighborhood.

The doorbell chimed just as you finished arranging a vase of fake flowers in the living room. Dean peered through the peephole like he expected to see a mob of demons. Instead, a group of impeccably dressed neighbors smiled back at him.

“Kill me now,” Dean muttered, opening the door.

A blonde woman with a Stepford-wife grin and a clipboard stepped forward. “Hi there! Welcome to the neighborhood! I’m Lana, the HOA president. And these are Sheila and Rick, your next-door neighbors!”

Dean gave his best approximation of a smile, though it looked more like a grimace. “Uh, hey. I’m Dean. This is my—uh—wife.”

You plastered on your most winning smile and shook hands all around. “So nice to meet you all!”

Lana’s eyes swept over the living room, clearly appraising your decor. “You’ve done such a lovely job already! Oh, and Dean, we’ll have our weekly HOA meeting at the clubhouse tomorrow night. We expect all new residents to attend. You’ll come, won’t you?”

Dean opened his mouth, likely to come up with an excuse, but you elbowed him. “We’d love to,” you said quickly.

“Wonderful!” Lana chirped. “I’ll leave you with the neighborhood handbook. Everything you need to know is right here.” She handed over a spiral-bound monstrosity of rules and regulations before bustling off with her entourage.

Dean stared at the handbook like it might explode. “Fifty bucks says they’re part of a cult.”

That night, Sam joined you both in the kitchen, where you poured over the HOA handbook. Sam had come by under the guise of helping you move in but was really playing the role of a nosy family friend who conveniently lived a few towns over.

“Okay,” Sam said, flipping through pages. “This is weird. Every house here has to have a specific type of lawn ornament? And look at this—rules about curfew, holiday decorations, even what kind of car you can park in your driveway.”

“Classic control freaks,” Dean muttered, popping open a beer.

“Or something worse,” Sam countered, pointing to a line about mandatory attendance at neighborhood socials. “People start disappearing, and the HOA gets more power over the remaining residents. It seems like they're under some spell… perhaps they made a pact? Maybe with a demon.”

Dean groaned. “Great. So it’s not just bad casseroles we have to survive.”

“We need to hit that meeting tomorrow,” you said. “Whatever’s going on, that’s where we’ll find the first clue.”

The next evening, you and Dean made your way to the HOA meeting at the neighborhood clubhouse, blending in among the perfectly groomed crowd. Everyone was dressed like they were auditioning for a suburban magazine spread: crisp polos, floral blouses, and smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes.

Dean leaned closer to you, muttering, “Tell me this doesn’t feel like a Stepford reboot.”

You elbowed him lightly, smiling for the neighbors. “Try to look like you’re not plotting their demise, honey.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, adjusting his flannel like it was armor. “Let’s just hope these people don’t sacrifice newcomers to their God of Lawn Care.”

Inside the clubhouse, Lana, the HOA president, stood at the front of the room, clipboard in hand. She welcomed everyone with her signature cheerfulness, but you couldn’t miss the way her eyes scanned the crowd, lingering on the newcomers—you and Dean.

“Now, let’s get started!” she chirped. “First order of business: Mr. Peterson’s garden gnomes. We’ve had complaints they’re too whimsical.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at you, mouthing, too whimsical? You struggled not to laugh.

The meeting droned on, a mix of petty complaints and rigid enforcement of bizarre rules, until Lana’s tone shifted.

“And finally,” she said, her voice dropping an octave, “a reminder that all residents are expected to attend next week’s neighborhood barbecue. Remember, harmony is our greatest strength. We’re all part of something... bigger here.”

Her words sent a ripple of unease through the room. Most of the neighbors nodded dutifully, but a few glanced nervously at each other. You caught Dean’s gaze, and his expression was sharp, all traces of humor gone.

Later that night, back at the house, you pored over what you’d observed with Sam and Dean.

“It’s not just the rules,” you said, pacing the living room. “It’s the way they act. Like they’re afraid of stepping out of line.”

“And what’s with Lana’s ‘bigger picture’ speech?” Dean added, tossing the HOA handbook onto the coffee table. “She’s definitely hiding something.”

Sam tapped at his laptop. “I did some digging. Lana moved into this neighborhood ten years ago, right before the HOA’s rules got so strict. Before that? No disappearances, no creepy cult vibes.”

Dean frowned. “So she’s the ringleader?”

“More like the summoner,” Sam replied, turning the screen to show an old news clipping. It detailed Lana’s involvement in occult studies years ago. “If she’s behind this, it’s not merely a pact. It’s using the HOA to enforce perfection, as it literally sustains the spell that keeps it anchored here.”

“So, the HOA handbook’s not just a pain in the ass,” you said, glancing at Dean. “It’s the demon’s playbook.”

The next morning, Dean decided to “blend in” by taking his role as a suburban husband to absurd levels.

You came downstairs to find him in an apron, flipping pancakes with an exaggerated flourish. “Morning, sweetheart!” he called, his grin annoyingly smug.

“What are you doing?” you asked, still half-asleep.

“Being the perfect husband,” he said, loading a plate with a stack of slightly burnt pancakes. “You should try it sometime, darling.”

The sarcasm in his tone made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t suppress a small laugh. “If this is your idea of perfection, the demon’s going to smite us before lunch.”

Dean’s antics didn’t stop at pancakes. Later that day, he decided to tackle the front yard—shirtless, of course, because “that’s what husbands do, right?”

You stood on the porch, arms crossed, watching as he wrestled with the garden hose like it owed him money. His flannel was tossed onto a nearby fence, leaving his t-shirt in a crumpled heap in the corner. The summer sun glinted off his shoulders, and despite the ridiculousness of it all, you couldn’t help but stare.

“You know,” you called out, fighting a smirk, “the neighbors are going to think you’re some kind of exhibitionist.”

Dean glanced up, his grin wolfish. “Or they’ll think you’re married to the best damn landscaper on the block.”

“You missed a spot.” You pointed at a section of the lawn.

He mock-groaned, holding a hand to his chest like you’d mortally wounded him. “Man slaves away, and this is the thanks he gets? No wonder I’m burned out on marriage.”

“Burned out implies you ever tried,” you shot back, leaning against the doorframe.

Dean’s expression shifted, just for a moment—a flash of something vulnerable, quickly buried under his usual bravado. “Yeah, well... guess I never found the right reason to try.”

The air between you grew heavier, the teasing edge dulled by an undercurrent you didn’t quite know how to address. He broke eye contact first, turning back to the yard. “Don’t just stand there, princess. Grab a rake or something.”

The barbecue was the kind of event you’d have laughed at if you weren’t actively part of it. Neatly arranged folding tables with checkered cloths stretched across the neighborhood park, and neighbors mingled with drinks in hand, every one of them smiling just a little too wide.

Dean leaned against the grill, flipping burgers with the same intensity he used while sharpening knives. “This is a trap. You know that, right?” he muttered, glancing around.

“Obviously,” you replied, sipping a too-sweet lemonade. “But we’re undercover, remember? Try to act like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Dean’s grin was laced with sarcasm. “Oh yeah, I’m having a blast. Love talking about lawn fertilizer and HOA-approved fence heights.”

Just then, Lana appeared beside the two of you, her ever-present clipboard tucked under her arm. “Dean, those burgers smell amazing! And you—” She turned to you with that polished grin. “You’re just glowing, aren’t you? Married life suits you two so well.”

Dean, never one to miss an opportunity, slung an arm around your shoulders. “Well, Lana, we’re just one big, happy couple.” He punctuated the sentence with a quick kiss to your temple, the smug look on his face daring you to react.

You forced a tight smile. “Couldn’t be happier.”

Lana beamed, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Wonderful to hear. It’s so important to maintain harmony in the neighborhood.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “After all, everything falls apart if even one house doesn’t meet expectations.”

Dean’s arm stiffened against your shoulder, his instincts flaring. “Is that right?”

Lana nodded, her expression unreadable. “Absolutely. Well, I won’t keep you. Enjoy the barbecue!”

Once Lana was out of earshot, you and Dean regrouped with Sam near the dessert table.

“She’s hiding something,” you said, cutting straight to the point.

“Definitely,” Dean agreed, setting his plate down. “And what’s with the whole ‘harmony’ thing? She sounded like a cult leader.”

Sam nodded, keeping his voice low. “She is. It is indeed a deal, an exchange. The more the neighborhood conforms to the rules, the stronger it gets. People who can’t meet the standards? They’re the ones who disappear.”

You frowned. “So the HOA rules aren’t just annoying—they’re literally fuel for this thing.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “Well, good news. We’ve got the perfect distraction right here.” He gestured at himself and you with a smirk.

“Perfect distraction?” you repeated.

“Think about it,” he said. “We’re new, we’re not exactly HOA material, and if anyone’s gonna tick off a demon about their precious rules, it’s us.”

Sam sighed. “Just be careful. If the demon gets wind of what you’re doing, it won’t wait for you to break a rule—it’ll come for you directly.”

The first crack in the HOA’s perfectly polished façade came two days after Dean decided to rebel in his own loud, stubborn way. The offending incident? A single garden gnome—brightly painted and flipping the bird—set proudly on your front lawn.

You crossed your arms, staring at the gnome as Dean lounged against the doorframe. “Really?”

Dean grinned, proud as a kid showing off a bad report card. “What? It’s art.”

“It’s bait,” you corrected, shaking your head.

“Exactly.” He smirked, arms crossed. “Lana won’t know what hit her.”

Sure enough, Lana arrived within the hour, clipboard in hand and fury barely masked beneath her painted smile. “Dean, we need to discuss your lawn decorations,” she said through gritted teeth.

Dean stepped outside, wearing the smuggest expression you’d ever seen. “What’s the problem, Lana? Don’t you like art?”

She blinked, momentarily stunned by his audacity, before recovering. “This neighborhood thrives on harmony. Your—choice of ornament—disrupts that balance.”

Dean leaned casually against the porch railing. “Huh. Didn’t see anything in the handbook about freedom of expression being against the rules.”

You watched from the window, biting back a laugh as Lana sputtered, her usual control slipping. She left with a curt, “This isn’t over.”

After Lana stormed off, you expected Dean to be all bravado and quips, but instead, he started fixing the fence. It was such a rare sight that you almost did a double take.

“What are you doing?” you asked, leaning against the porch post.

“Making sure the place doesn’t fall apart,” Dean replied, hammering a nail into place. “If we’re staying here long enough to take down a demon, might as well make it look good.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were so handy, Mr. Winchester.”

He smirked, not looking up. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m full of surprises.”

That night, you found Dean in the kitchen, you noticed Dean seemed... different. Focused. Almost like he belonged here. He stirred a pot of chili with a level of precision that rivaled his aim with a gun.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you remarked, leaning against the counter.

Dean shrugged. “I used to cook for Sammy when we were kids. Guess some habits stick.”

The soft admission caught you off guard. For all his bravado, moments like these reminded you of the man underneath—the one who took care of everyone else, even when he didn’t have to.

“This is weird,” you muttered, setting the table.

Dean looked over at you. “What is?”

“You. Doing all this domestic stuff. It’s like you’re... enjoying it.”

Dean shrugged, placing the bowls of chili on the table. “I don’t hate it. Beats getting shot at every day.”

“Guess you’re not half-bad at this husband thing after all,” you teased.

Dean smirked, his usual cockiness back in place. “Don’t let it go to your head, sweetheart.”

Later, the two of you sat on the couch, flipping through channels. Sam had gone back to his motel, leaving you and Dean with a rare bit of downtime.

The sound of the TV faded into the background as Dean spoke up. “You ever think about it? A normal life, I mean.”

You looked over at him, surprised. “Sometimes. Why?”

He leaned back, one hand draped along the back of the couch, his expression unusually serious. “I don’t know. It’s just... this case, all this fake domestic stuff... It’s kinda nice. Not worrying about what’s lurking around the corner every second.”

“You’ve never thought about it before?” you asked gently.

Dean gave a short laugh, his gaze distant. “Nah. Figured it wasn’t in the cards. Even when I was a kid, normal wasn’t exactly in the Winchester playbook.”

His words hung in the air, heavier than you’d expected.

“Maybe it’s not about the cards you’re dealt,” you said softly. “Maybe it’s about finding your own kind of normal.”

He turned to look at you, his green eyes searching yours. For a moment, the air between you felt charged, but he broke the gaze first, his usual smirk returning. “Well, my kind of normal definitely involves better TV shows than this crap.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Fair enough.”

The tender moment passed quickly as the two of you turned back to the case.

The next morning, Sam returned with a crucial discovery. “Lana made a deal with a demon ten years ago. She wanted the perfect neighborhood, and the demon delivered. But the cost? Anyone who doesn’t fit her version of perfection gets sacrificed to keep the deal going.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “So she’s trading lives for lawn perfection? Well, that’s messed up.”

Sam nodded. “It thrives off the conformity she enforces. The more people play by the rules, the stronger the demon gets. The ones who disappear? They’re used as sacrifices to maintain the spell.”

Dean stood abruptly. “Great. So we take down the demon, and her whole Stepford act goes up in flames.” He looked at you. “But first, we gotta piss her off enough to make a move.”

After talkng with Sam, you and Dean turned the dial on your undercover roles.

You started your day loudly arguing in the driveway about “trivial” things—how Dean never folded the laundry right, how you “always” bought the wrong coffee creamer.

Dean played it up like a pro, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “Fine! Next time, you go grocery shopping!”

“Oh, because you’re so busy, huh?” you shot back, struggling not to laugh.

So you two just keeped violating the rules. Determined to push Lana past her breaking point, Dean added strung mismatched Christmas lights across the front porch, even though it was July.

“Dean,” you said, standing in the driveway with crossed arms, “I’m pretty sure even the demon is rolling its eyes at this point.”

Dean grinned as he plugged in the lights, which flickered in a garish rainbow. “Oh, come on, admit it. This is the most fun we’ve had on a case in months.”

You couldn’t argue with that. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re married to me,” he shot back, winking. “You know,” Dean said, leaning in close as you adjusted the strand of blinking lights, “we make a pretty good team when we’re breaking all the rules.”

You smirked. “Better than your pancake-making team, that’s for sure.”

He laughed, the sound rich and unguarded. “Touché.”

Lanas’s car pulled up just as Dean propped his flamingo lawn ornament next to the mailbox. Her expression was a masterclass in repressed rage as she stepped out, clipboard in hand.

“Dean!” she barked, her voice sharp enough to make the neighbors glance over from their gardening.

He sauntered up to her, feigning innocence. “Morning, Lana. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Her smile was brittle, her grip on the clipboard tightening. “We need to talk.”

Dean’s escalating antics had done the trick. By the time night fell, Lana’s perfectly polished demeanor had cracked. She called an emergency HOA meeting, under the pretense of “addressing a disturbance in harmony.”

“You ready for this?” Dean asked as the three of you crouched outside the clubhouse, peeking through a window.

“I’ve been ready since the gnome,” you replied, flashing him a quick grin.

Sam whispered, “Looks like she’s prepping for a ritual. We need to stop her before she completes it.”

Dean nodded. “Sam, you cut off the ritual. We’ll handle Lana.”

“We?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean smirked. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“Not as far as I can throw you,” you shot back, but the teasing tone didn’t quite mask the warmth in your words.

The two of you burst through the clubhouse door just as Lana lit the final candle on an ornate altar covered in sigils. The neighbors, all eerily quiet, stood in a semicircle around her, their expressions blank and glassy-eyed.

“Lana!” Dean called out, his voice cutting through the room. “You forgot to put this on the HOA agenda.”

She turned, her face twisting into something feral. “You don’t understand,” she hissed. “This neighborhood is perfect because of me. Because of what I’ve done!”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, your definition of perfect kinda sucks.”

Lana snarled, grabbing a knife from the altar and lunging at him. You moved instinctively, stepping in to block her path. Together, you and Dean fought her off, moving in perfect sync.

She was fast, unnaturally so, but you matched her step for step, Dean covering your back with practiced ease. At one point, she swung the knife in a wide arc, and Dean caught her wrist, twisting it just enough for you to knock the blade free.

“You good?” he asked, glancing at you.

You nodded, catching your breath. “I’m fine. You?”

“Peachy,” he replied, his grin full of adrenaline-fueled bravado.

Behind you, Sam chanted Latin, his voice steady as he worked to dismantle the ritual. The sigils on the altar began to glow, flickering as the power binding the neighborhood started to unravel.

Realizing she was losing, Lana screamed, “You’ll ruin everything! Without this deal, this place will fall apart!”

Dean shrugged, stepping closer. “Good. Then maybe it’ll feel a little more human.” With a final swing, he knocked her unconscious, the force of it sending her crumpling to the floor.

Sam finished the ritual just as the sigils burned out entirely, plunging the room into silence. The neighbors blinked, their blank expressions fading as they seemed to wake from a dream.

“It’s over,” Dean said, his voice low.

Outside the clubhouse, you leaned against the Impala, catching your breath. The air felt lighter now, the oppressive weight of the neighborhood’s perfection finally lifted.

Dean stood a few feet away, looking at you with an unreadable expression. For once, he seemed at a loss for words.

“You okay?” you asked softly, stepping closer.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “Just... thinking.”

“Dangerous habit,” you teased, but the smile you gave him was gentle.

Dean’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Before you could think, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours.

The kiss was intense, filled with all the emotions he’d been holding back—relief, affection, gratitude and something deeper, something unspoken. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Took me long enough, huh?”

You laughed softly, your hand resting against his chest. “Yeah. But worth the wait.”

᭝ ᨳଓ𓂃⋆.

The next morning, as the three of you packed up to leave, Dean was back to his usual self—mostly.

Dean hesitated, glancing at the house. “Gotta admit,” he said, his voice softer than usual, “this whole domestic thing... wasn’t the worst.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you hated it.” Dean smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, turns out I don’t suck at it. Could even get used to it, maybe.”

“You know,” he said, leaning against the Impala as you loaded the last bag into the trunk, “this whole married thing has its perks.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked. “Yeah. Hot meals, shared insurance benefits, someone to remind me when I forget my wallet.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly. “God, you’re insufferable.”

He shook his head, but there was a warmth in his gaze as he looked at you. “Maybe in another life.”

You didn’t answer, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. Dean opened the driver’s side door, his usual cocky grin back in place. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s hit the road.” You climbed in, Dean kissing you on the head before closing the door.

As the Impala roared to life and the too-perfect neighborhood disappeared in the rearview mirror, you couldn’t help but think about Dean’s earlier words. Maybe this undercover mission had been more than just a case.

Maybe, in some small way, it had given both of you a glimpse of what could be.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[kiryoutann]

warning(s): MDNI, ANGST, simon riley being an asshole (like really), kind of gore description as metaphor for REAALLYY desperate love??? non-consensual tracking by reader (SURPRISE!!)

Simon might be the worst denialist ever. Because, how could he say it was all casual?

“I forgot something in your car.” You tell him.

Simon's frown deepened, his head tilting slightly as he seemed to contemplate your words. It was absurd—after all these weeks, here you are, standing in front of his apartment, having somehow discovered the address, and claiming to have forgotten something in his car.

But he doesn't say anything, just continues to make his way to the car. You follow closely behind him. He opens the door to the passenger seat, then steps aside to let you check the car. You stretch your hand under the passenger seat, blindly feeling for anything, brushing through the dust and small gravel collected there until you finally touch something cold and metallic.

Pulling it out, the phone you had planted there weeks earlier came into view. You knew this meant Simon had laid his eyes on it too. It wouldn’t take long for him to connect the dots and figure out you had been tracking him this whole time.

Fucking hell. Simon remembered what he had said about modern phones. He closed the car door with a sharp click, then turned to you.

“So you’ve been followin’ me, then?”

“You didn't return my texts,” you stated bluntly.

"I asked you a question." He growls, almost like he's threatening you.

You observed the anger brewing in the depths of his dark eyes, radiating from him like a hot flame. Good, you thought silently. At least there was something that riled him up; otherwise, you would be suffering alone while he goes to fuck any willing bodies he can get his hands on.

"Why didn't you call me?" You ask again. “Why does it say your number is no longer in service? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” he snap, voice dripping with venom. “You think I owe you an explanation?”

Your blurry vision missed a flicker of change in his expression. When the tears escaped and the world came into focus again, all you saw was Simon gritting his teeth, jaw locked. He turned and began to walk away.

You followed him, quickening your pace to catch up. “Simon! Simon, wait!”

Despite your best efforts, he continues to keep his back turned to you, refusing to even spare you a glance. He fixed his gaze straight ahead, seemingly hell-bent on creating a vast gulf between you. You called out his name once more, your voice echoing in the stillness of the night, but he kept right on walking.

“Yes, I deserve an explanation! I don’t know why you’re being like this. We were fine the last time we were together. What happened? Why did you just disappear on me?”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the sleeve of his jacket to get him to stop and face you. He came to a halt. A jolt of electricity surged through you as he encircled your fingers with his own, but it soon faded as he let go of your grip on the leather. Something inside you dropped away, leaving a shameful hollow space inside.

Simon towers over you, his stature imposing and intimidating. He locks a hard glare on you. “I asked you a question, didn't I?” His voice fell to a dangerously low tone. “Why the fuck have you been following me?”

The dam holding back your tears broke, leaving you choking on your own sobs. How could he not know? All these tears, all these cries… how could he still fail to see that it was all for him? To be stripped bare only for him to overlook it. Should you skin yourself alive then? To tear your heart out, to hold the raw, bleeding organ in the palm of your trembling hand as an offering?

“Because I want to know where you are,” You settle for the simpler version, hyperventilating as you take a breath. “You know my place, my workplace... You even went to my cousin’s wedding. And yet, I know nothing about you, Simon. Nothing.”

“You think just ‘cause we fucked a few times, that gives you the right to pry into my life?”

A sharp pang of pain shot through your chest. The world was ruby-colored, either from your boiling anger or the hemorrhage from the sharpness of his words. Your jaw clenched, your gaze sharpened.

“Fuck you, Simon,” you spat. “You know we’re not just fucking.”

The clenched fists at your sides tremble, and you don’t know if it’s from anger or hurt or the weight of your own expectation to make him see it. Or perhaps it’s all three. How could he speak like this when there's a specific section in your dresser for the clothes he frequently brings and leaves, when he constantly returns and stays longer even as the morning has risen, when he drove you to the countryside and dances and twirls you around like those old couples do? Not when he embraces you until your tears subside, nor when each of his kisses offers that one thing you've chased your whole life.

There’s no way this isn’t love. He just needs to stop denying it.

Simon's eyes narrowed into slits. "Then you read it all wrong, darlin'."

The way he said it was cold, without a shred of sympathy—but nothing was colder than the way Simon continually turned his back to you as he continued to walk farther and farther away, as if all he wanted was to get as far away from you as possible. Disgusting woman in love. But you never got the hint, did you? You kept following him, running after him like a stupid little dog created solely to love, love, love, and never be loved back.

[sneak peek of chapter 13 of "A MAN'S HEART IS TRULY A WRETCHED, WRETCHED THING.".]

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION.

[azzifuddfanpage]

All I want for Christmas is You

Thanks for the prompt 😛 2.1k words

themes: Christmas? Idk

tw: smut

prompt: This is around now/ them being in a relationship. The wholes team is kinda sulky and grey after losing USC even thought it’s almost Christmas. They are all just chilling in the dorms, playing video games, chatting, and packing up for the break. Azzi decides to surprise Paige with an earlier Christmas gift. She calls her over and reveals her festive lingerie. Paige is obviously gooning and immediately shuts the door. (go all out with the scene I didn’t have any l ideas 💀)After a while they realize they went a little crazy and are defiantly gonna have to wash themselves up… and the sheets. “Paige why are you cleaning the sheets right before your leaving for home?”- a teammate asks.        -😛

The entire media conference after the game was brutal. Paige sat there and was professional but wanted nothing more than to wrap herself up in Azzi’s arms. 

After 3 years of dating, they had been closer than ever. Azzi was the only one who knew how to make her feel better-way better- after a loss. 

When they were back in the dorms, everyone was just chilling in the living room of the suite. 

Paige sat with Ice and Kk playing fortnite trying to get her mind off of the loss.

Paige was one to take the loss personally so she would do everything she could to get her mind off of it.

“Hey do you know where Azzi is?” Paige asked as she went for another kill. 

“She’s still with the trainer.” Ice replied shortly as she continued fiddling with the remote. Distracted, paige handed off the remote to sarah who happily took over for her.

Paige missed Azzi, bad, the longer they had been dating the more needy Paige had found herself for her. 

Paige slumped onto the couch behind them facing Azzi’s bedroom door, and pulled out her phone. 

—-

Me: wya I miss u😕

💗: I’m at the trainer I’ll be home soon Paigey 

Me: 😐

💗: it will be worth the wait trust me I have a surprise for u 

Ur gonna like it a lot trust me….

—-

It looked like the day was gonna be looking up.

30 minutes later, the front door opened and Paige immediately whipped her head around to make eyes with Azzi. 

Paige immediately stood up and ran to Azzi wrapping her arms around her waist tightly and snuggling into the crook of her neck. 

“Missed you so much baby.” She said as she breathed in the smell of her coconut shampoo and vanilla perfume. 

Paige looked down and saw Azzi was carrying a black and pink bag. Her eyes perked up. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Paige whispered teasingly while attaching her lips to Azzi’s neck making her giggle. 

“Maybe… but you’re gonna have to wait a few minutes so I can get your present all set up.” Azzi responded moving her hand up to play with paige’s blonde hair that had fallen into her face as she clung to her. 

“Present? What for?” Paige said eagerly trying to snoop in the bag.

“Paige! Be patient, no peaking. It’s just an early Christmas gift. Just stay here and I will call you in when I’m ready.” Azzi replied pulling away from paige and walking to the bedroom. 

Paige smirked and walked over to the couch as she watched Azzi walk into the bedroom. 

Paige spread her legs a little as Azzi turned around watching as Azzi blushed her eyes darting to her clothed center. 

Azzi then put a finger to her lips and disappeared into her bedroom.

Paige felt her panties dampen in anticipation on what Azzi had planned for her. 

The longer Azzi took the more needy she became.

10 long minutes later she heard Azzi call out.

“Paige can you come help me in here?” Paige bolted up and brusquely but nonchalantly (or so she thought) to Azzi’s room.

“Fuck guess I need to grab my headphone” ice said laughing as Paige shut Azzi’s door behind her. They weren’t exactly quiet.

Inside Azzi’s room paige walked in to the bed and felt two hands creep around the back of her head covering her eyes. 

“Guess who” Azzi smirked behind her

“Hmmm I don’t know Q?” Paige said teasingly. 

“Alright you’re not getting your present after that one.” Azzi laughed as paige hungrily turned around. 

“Where is it?” Paige said as she looked at Azzi who was wearing her pink fluffy robe. 

“Get on the bed and I’ll show you.” Azzi said dominantly giving her a shove so she would fall backwards.

Paige crawled up to the headboard and turned around so she was facing Azzi watching her in awe.

Azzi slowly reached for the tie of her robe and began to undo the knot.

Paige felt her breath hitch as she watched the pink fluffy robe slide down Azzi’s shoulders and drop onto the floor.

Paiges eyes scanned Azzi’s body in adoration.

She was weary a silver and red lingerie set that was lacy and completely mesh. 

Paige thought her eyes were going to bulge out of her head at the sight of Azzi’s perky nipples poking through the thin shear fabric. 

Suddenly paige found herself extremely needy for Azzi’s touch.

“You’re so beautiful Azzi.” Paige said her eyes continuing to stare at her body.

Azzi smirked as she climbed onto the bed and crawled towards Paige.

Azzi pushes her shoulders so she is now fully laying on her back on the bed.

Azzi sits up staring down on her, straddling her legs.

She leans forward and starts to press soft kisses along her jaw and neck.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world.” Azzi says in between kisses as Paige lets out a soft sigh. 

Azzi moves her hands downwards, lips still connected to Paige’s neck, and tugs on her t shirt.

Paige puts her hands up instinctively and Azzi slides it off her, immediately coming in contact with her soft nipples hardening under Azzi’s gaze.

“Wow no bra? Someone was ready for this, huh?” Azzi laughs as she connects her hands and begins to massage Paige’s chest. 

“Wanted to be ready for your surprise.” Paige whispers eagerly as she pulls Azzi’s face in to kiss her.

Paige’s hunger for Azzi’s skin is almost bubbling as she runs her tongue along Azzi’s bottom lip. She attaches her teeth and pulls watching Azzi lean towards her needily, letting out a breathy moan. 

Azzi starts to grind her hips against Paige’s pelvis begging for friction. 

Azzi leans back placing her hand on Paiges thighs as she arches her back and grinds down on Paige’s thighs.

A groan leaves paige’s mouth as she searches desperately for more contact.

She opens her eyes and watches in aw as Azzi gently grinds back and forth on her. 

“Please.” Paige moans noticing the damp spot on Azzi’s panties. 

“You need more baby?” Azzi says seductively as she begins to slide down paige’s pants continuing to ride her.

Paige lets out a yelp, biting her lip as Azzi presses her knee against paige’s clit. 

“Oh god.” Paige groans as she throws her head back.

Azzi leans forward laying her chest on Paige as she continues to apply pressure on her pussy. 

She starts to press kisses against her tits, sucking on her nipples and blowing as she starts to feel the slick accumulate in between them. 

Paige moans loudly against Azzi’s chest.

“Shh! Paige you have to be quiet we don’t need anymore complaints.” Azzi teases as paige rolls her eyes.

“Haha very funny, if I remember right it was your screaming that had caroline running in thinking you were dying.” Paige replies still out of breath. Azzi returns the eyeroll and presses her hand against paige’s mouth to shut her up.

Paige spreads her legs wider giving Azzi more access to grind against her. 

After what felt like hours of Azzi’s rubbing against her clit paige could barely keep herself together.

“Azzi please” she groaned “need to cum please.”

Azzi giggled to herself at her girlfriend’s fucked out state. 

“Look at me baby.” Azzi said dominantly “I want you to watch me while you cum.” 

Paiges eyes immediately popped open entranced by Azzi staring directly back at her. 

Azzi’s eyes alone were enough to make her cum, and when Azzi started picking up the pace, rubbing herself against paige more aggressively, paige could no longer contain her cum, letting her juices spill out of her and onto the bed sheets as she moaned.

As Azzi continued to grind against her, riding out her high, paige began to rub her fingers teasingly over her panties watching as Azzi’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, already stimulated by her grinding against paige. 

Paige watched Azzi intently focused on Azzi’s body.

As paige began to apply more pressure Azzi lifted her hips now hovering over paige’s stomach kneeling so her legs were seperated enough for paige to access her clit.

Azzi let out a raspy moan, and Paige pulled her panties to the side desperately needing to be in contact with her wetness.

Azzi’s warm heat coated her fingers as she rubbed back and forth against her pussy. 

Azzi leaned over to stabilize herself as Paige stuffed two fingers inside her tight hole. 

Paige began to thrust in and out of her stabilizing her by holding onto her waist. 

As she felt Azzi’s legs shake she flipped them over so she was now on top. 

With her new angle she pounded furiously into Azzi’s pussy, using her thumb to rub at her clit. 

Azzi continued to moan loudly pulling at paige’s hair, thrusting her hips so paige’s fingers would dig deeper in her core.

Paiges fingers plunging into her gummy walls caused Azzi to shake with pleasure. 

Hearing Azzi’s frustrated moans as she tried to rub herself against paige’s fingers.

Paige paused, watching as Azzi whimpered and squirmed deserpeate for her fingers to restart their pounding. 

Azzi started trying to fuck herself on Paige’s fingers, desperate to reach her climax.

Just as Azzi let out another needy moan, paige plunged another finger in, pounding 3 in and out of her.

Paige uses her other hand to rub her clit, before pressing gently on her lower stomach.

With that Azzi feels the band in her stomach snap, and feels her cum spill out of her joining paige’s on the sheets

They go back and forth pleasing each other until they are just a heap of moans unable to catch their breath.

The sheets are soaked with sweat and their cum.

“Guess we may have over done it.” Azzi laughed her head laying in the sheets. 

“Nahh don’t know what you’re talking about.” Paige replied cheekily. 

They lay there nuzzled together for a little longer but eventually Azzi could no longer stand it.

“Alright I gotta shower and you have got to wash these sheets like this is just embarrassing I feel like I wet the bed.” Azzi huffed trying to sit up with Paige’s lengthy body weighing her down. 

“I mean you kinda did.” Paige said trying to hide her giggle as Azzi glared at her and hitting her over the head with a pillow.

“Says you!” She shot back as she crawled out of paige’s grasp and stood up.

“We are leaving tomorrow morning early, if you don’t wash the sheets now they will be worse when we get back.” Azzi said as paige fell back onto the bed.

“Ughhhh” she whined, “I know I know I have to clean them. But I literally just did like 2 days ago… “ paige whined as she sat back up and grabbed Azzi’s hand.

“I don’t like when you shower without me.” Paige pouted fluttering her eyelashes teasingly. 

Azzi shoved her face with her hand laughing, “you’re such a freak paige oh my god.” She pauses for a minute. “If you go clean the sheets we will see what happens.” Azzi says shrugging leaving the room so paige can ponder that. 

Paige makes the executive decision it would be a good idea to see where things that night might lead with Azzi so she strips the bed and makes a pile to bring to the laundry.

Paige is fantasizeing about all the things Azzi might have planned since she is being a “good girl” and cleaning the sheets like Azzi asked her, when she hears a knock. 

“Back so soon” Paige teases assuming Azzi couldn’t resist her… it was Aubrey. 

“Uhm sorry, not who you were hoping, I just had a quick-“ Aubrey looks down at paige piling her sheets into her hamper, “you know what I’m gonna just ask Ice it’s fine.” She trials off. “Why are you washing your sheets paige?” She teases knowing exactly what it means. 

“What do you mean? I can’t wash my sheets now?” Paige replied confused. 

“You just changed them like two days ago? And we are leaving for vacation it’s not like you will be sleeping on them anytime soon.” 

Paige smirked, “well they got dirty quick I guess.” 

Aubrey stares at her a little confused then Azzi walks in the room and the pieces click.

Her eyes widen, “y’all are nasty” Aubrey says laughing running out of the room, likely to go tell Ice and Kk.

Azzi looks at Paige confused. 

“What did I do?” Azzi says softly her big eyes staring at Paige, and paige can’t help but melt under her adorable eyes. 

“She’s just jealous baby don’t worry.” paige says pulling her into a hug and rubbing her hand on her back. 

[smellslikechahnspirit]

heyyy chan’s spirit!! I love your writing so much and had a little fic idea I wanted to share! Could you write something where channie’s wife asks him to get intimate for the first time after they find out she’s pregnant? It doesn’t need to be explicit—just soft and emotional, focusing on their love and connection. Totally okay if it’s not your vibe, but I’d love to see your take on it!

Ofcourse! It's a bit short, but I hope you still like it :)

Absolutely

[Husband Channie and y/n being intimate after finding out their pregnant for the first time (not NSFW)]

BangChan x Reader

🤍 read guide lines in Masterlist!

THIS IS (OBVIOUSLY) ALL FICTION AND IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY! THIS IS MY PERCEPTION OF HOW I THINK SKZ WOULD BEHAVE IN SITUATIONS LIKE THIS AKA, NOT REAL.

8:05 PM

You both were on the couch, watching Arcane. It was the weekend. Not any kind of weekend. This weekend was special. It officially has been 2 months since you two found out you were having a little baby. Both of you have wanted this for quite a while and were very excited to finally share the news with everyone. But it was Friday night. You wanted to announced it first thing tomorrow morning. Today was the last day it would just be between you two. I still can't believe it... Hm? Channie replied who was sleepily laying with his head on you lap. He looked up at your face which was shining bright. Our baby. I can't believe it's finally happening. He smiled at you, turning around a bit so his face faced your tummy. I know baby, me too. Can't wait to see the members faces tomorrow haha. You laughed. They're gonna be great uncles. I'm sure they will honey. Kinda liked the little secret we had for a while tho. Hm me too. He said as he kissed your stomach softly. Can't believe it's been 2 months already... Yea, 7 more to go. As you said this you kinda looked..I don't know how to put it...off? You looked disappointed. Or rather annoyed. Something wrong baby? You feeling okay? Nah, I'm fine. You said as you pushed him off your lap soflty, so you could get up. Since you're pregnant, he kind of just let you. Normally he would've made you stay and talk it out right then and there, but he knew you were uncomfortable enough as it is. Sure? He asked you while watching you walk towards your shared bedroom. He only saw you nod and disappear behind the door. He got concerned, more then confused. He knew your emotions were all over the place, but seeing you raise a wall was never a good sign. After a good 5 minutes he decided to check up on you.

He walked into the bedroom. The door was still slightly opened. Knock knock...can I come in darling? Ofcourse. He walked in slowly, holding a cup of your favoured tea. Got ya this. He put it down next to you. He kept looking at your face, trying to decipher what was the matter. Y/n, please tell me..what's going on. Are you feeling sick? Worried? Don't deal with this by yourself baby, please. He said as he rubbed your arm soflty. It's just... He looked you in the eyes, making you look back at him. It's what? I guess I'm just a bit worried. Hmhm, worried bout what sweetie? He now sat down next to you, giving you a small kiss. Patiently waiting for you to tell him what was bothering you. Do you still love me? Or just because I'm pregnant now, you feel like you have to? He was shook by your words. Completely unaware that you felt this way. Y/n? Are you...okay? How...what??? Why would you ask me that. I love you to death. Does it look like I don't love you anymore? He was really confused. No, I mean...I don't know... Baby...? Well. Since you found out I was pregnant...we haven't...had sex. Like not even once. Are you not willing to have sex with me, for the next 7 months either? He now understood your thought, but this was never his intention. Babe...first of all, why didn't you tell me this sooner? And second...it's not that I don't wanna have sex with you. I just didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. Uncomfortable? Well, I don't know...since that day we found out...you kind of have been all about the safety of the baby, and health for your body and doing yoga and etc. Just everything. I felt like, me bothering you with my needs, was something that would stress you out. I just didn't want to put pressure on you, into thinking you had to, since your body is now a temple to keep safe. What does sex have to do with that? He also didn't think this through too much. These last 8 weeks have been stressfull for the both of you. I don't know what else to say... I never meant for it to seem like I didn't want to, I wanted to...everyday actually. Your eyes lit up. Really? You don't think it's weird now? Weird? No. Do I feel like we have to be carefull and mindfull about this? Yes. I don't wanna hurt you in any way baby. Instead of worry, all you felt now was happiness, being in a position that a man like this was the man who you were having a baby with. You're actually amazing, you know that babe? He smiled, then giving you a deep kiss. And the kiss kept going. And going. When after a while he was laying on top of you. Let me take care of you tonight. I will be gentle in every way. You deserve a treat, after this long. He knew how these 8 weeks have been on your body, let alone how difficult the other 7 months are gonna be on you. You sure you wanna do this? Absolutely.

...Masterlist...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

© 2022-2025, smellslikechahnspirit • No posting on other sites or platforms, rewrites, or translations

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (08)

chapter eight: ships in the night

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; i’ve been told this is the angstiest chapter yet saur yk you’ve been warned, mentions of past seggsy times, oc is self-deprecating self-sabotaging, oc has an anxiety attack in this one, erhm just Big Sad overall methinks, also could've been more edited but i am a godless monster word count: 7.2k note: wt is backkkkkk!! and it's the penultimate chapter omg :( lowkey nervous about how this is gonna be perceived bc i feel like my brand is Sad™️ and i haven't properly written anything Sad™️ in a WHILE. but yeah, wt8 is yours now have funnn. also ty chessica @matchannie for proofreading!!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / series masterpost / taglist

Sorry, I know that comment wasn’t funny Just wanted you to love me, but I didn’t go about it right Sometimes the best advice that I can give Is to bite my lip and listen with my big fat mouth shut tight

big fat mouth - Arlie

You don’t think you can ever forget the look on his face, the hurt in his eyes when the words had tumbled out of your mouth in a panicked frenzy. The regret was immediate, but so was the damage.

Saying things you didn’t mean, watching Minho so utterly defeated that it kills you, and the deafening silence after he had walked away from you on heavy footsteps – you can’t describe how it all felt that night. It’s just… sinking, and sinking, and sinking; endlessly spiraling in an ocean of your own guilt and despair. It’s true what they say – misery loves company.

Distractions don’t work, because whenever that overwhelming dread eases by even a fraction, you’re once again reminded by the bracelet that’s wrapped around your wrist with the tiny dove charm hanging on the side. Neither of you paid it any mind the other night, that much is clear.

You know you should return it to him eventually; it’s never belonged to you and it never will. But every time you go to take it off, you can’t bring yourself to simply undo the clasp and hide the bracelet somewhere you can’t see. It lets you delude yourself into thinking that you haven’t lost him even after what you said, even after you stomped on his heart and left it bleeding where you stood. 

You’d been upset, thinking that you were the only one falling, terrified that you’d crash headfirst into the cold, hard ground because there’d be nobody to catch you. And yet, when Minho told you he loved you, it provided you no relief at all. The fear magnified tenfold, taking over you until you couldn’t see straight, until it consumed you whole.

Home is something you find, and you’ve found it in him. Your sun and your spring and your home, and everything good that you can ever name.

All your life, something is always missing, an empty space that you never learned how to fill. Like when you exit a room and there’s a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that you’ve forgotten something even though all of your belongings are accounted for. Like when you lose your favorite ring, one that’s a little too loose but beloved anyway, slipping over your knuckle without your permission and disappearing forever, and you keep running your fingers over where the golden band used to be until you come to terms with the fact that it’s never coming back and you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning the loss of that familiarity.

You’ve always looked for things you lost in places you’ve never been.

You just want to go home, but you know you’ll only ruin it in the end.

The problem has never been Minho or anybody else. It’s you, and how there’s something intrinsically wrong with you. You paint the ending before there’s even a beginning. You’d rather run and hide than let yourself feel anything, because if there’s happiness then there’s going to be hurt inevitably.

You don’t want him to wake up one day and look at you like you’re a stranger, to realize that he’s wasted his time and effort, that you just weren’t worth it after all. 

It’s funny how, when you’re a child, time seems to move so quickly. One minute, you’re four, maybe five years old, and your mother is refusing to speak to you because she thinks you ruined one of her bags, a large scratch running along the otherwise smooth leather surface like it’s been met with a pair of scissors or simply accumulated on her way to work and she hadn’t noticed until she got home and you happened to be in the vicinity of her anger; the next, she’s letting you relish in all your favorite desserts, cavities be damned.

One minute, you’re being rushed to the hospital with a bad case of food poisoning, your parents staring down at you as if you’re actually about to die; the next, you’re already at home, watching cartoons that you couldn’t understand but you like anyway because they’re full of pretty colors and princesses and fairies.

You don’t remember how your mother came to forgive you for the bag even though it wasn’t your fault, or what the hospital felt like or if what the doctors and nurses did to make you feel better even hurt. You only know that you wish to return to a smaller version of yourself whose memories you can’t even recall, return to a time in which you once so desperately wanted to escape from.

Now, when you’re hurt, time doesn’t pass in a blink of an eye like it used to. It stands still, sucks you down a vortex and makes you feel everything. 

No one ever really warns you about growing pains, that they’re unavoidable no matter how hard you try to avoid them, that they can last a lifetime because you never really stop growing, and it never really seems to ache any less.

Hyunjin: Attachment: 1 Image. Hyunjin: i sent this one in  Hyunjin: u??

You’d almost forgotten about the exhibition until Hyunjin had sent you those texts. Even though you’re not one to neglect deadlines, you suppose it’s fairly reasonable that this one in particular had slipped your mind. You haven’t really been able to wrap your head around that many things after all.

Every semester, yours and Hyunjin’s department rents out a gallery near campus for a whole week to showcase students’ works. It’s nothing exclusive, nothing like a competition where they pit a couple hundred kids against each other just for a spot at a fancy art gallery. Almost anyone in the Faculty of Arts can register before the submission deadline, and you suppose that’s another reason why you’d overlooked it so easily – because you didn’t earn it. It didn’t feel special. It was just another meaningless event to attend.

Regardless, you spent a chunk of an afternoon pondering your selection though it didn’t matter that much, almost two hours dedicated to picking out paintings you realized you didn’t love. Some you even turned out to hate, even though you could remember the pride radiating from you the moments the canvas had felt the last brush stroke. Maybe the glamor eventually wore off, the momentary high that coursed through you when you’d shown your finished works to your professors and peers, and received showers of praise in return.

The piece you chose in the end wasn’t your favorite by any means, but it was one of the only pieces you could still bear to look at without nitpicking too much. It was a painting of the waters, and you’ve always loved the waters.

You could recall the day you went to the promenade by yourself with a need to be away from everyone and everything, and an overshirt that was too light to combat the September evening chill as summer transitioned into fall. You watched the sky slowly darken after the sun had disappeared from view, watched as the buildings on the other side of the river lit up one by one until they made up for the light that retired for the day.

The thin layers made you shiver – the consequence of your poor choice in clothing that night – but there was something about sitting by the waterfront after dark, kicking pebbles around underneath your feet, and the gentle caress of the wind on your face and your hair that made the cold feel welcoming. You always thought the city was more beautiful at night, more calming amidst all of its perpetual chaos. It made you feel like you were inside a dream long forgotten, took you back to a north star that you left to gather dust on an abandoned shelf.

You could recall wanting to dive into that dream again, a dream in which you could chase a perfect version of you that would never exist and find light at the end of the tunnel, instead of returning to the reality where you always wound up suffocating in darkness. You wanted to be free, free from the noise and free from your own life despite one simple truth that you knew all too well – that you could run but never from yourself.

When you were young, it’s the moon that used to follow you everywhere. As you get older, it’s all of the things that keep you up at night.

You could recall your phone buzzing to life in your bag with Minho’s name on the screen, like a sign from the universe saying “Hey, this one’s for you. Don’t drown. You have a lighthouse.” and it was as though he could sense that you were falling, like someone had tied your heart to a rock and threw it into the very river in front of you to sink to the bottom. Your friends often said he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. Maybe there was some truth in that.

His voice pulled you out of it, even though he only called to ask if you wanted to come over and eat the boatload of food his mom had sent. He made you want to disappear a little less and in that moment, it was enough.

You left your hiding place to go to him, to lose yourself in stupid jokes and not-too-sweet desserts even if it was only for a couple hours. And when you returned home that night, everything spilled onto the canvas just from memory alone, from the feeling that you were desperately clinging onto with your shaking hands.

You always thought you could only run away to places. You didn’t know people could be escapes too, and somewhere along the way, that was what Minho became to you — your treasured escape, your new hiding place.

You manage to avoid everyone – with the exception of Hyunjin; you do have to see him in class after all – over the two and a half weeks leading up to the exhibition, drumming up excuse after excuse to bail whenever any of them asks to grab a bite together or just to simply hang out. If they saw you, they’d notice your puffy eyes and ask if you’ve been crying. They would ask why, and you can’t find in yourself to make up a lie believable enough for that kind of question.

You think Hyunjin has noticed. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he’s not stupid and he’s still blessed with the gift of sight. He doesn’t mention anything though, despite you showing up to almost every class with puffy eyelids. You suppose you’re grateful for that.

Minho hasn’t talked to you at all since that night. Doesn’t ask you how your project’s going, doesn’t ask you about the exhibition, barely even speaks in the group chat, not even a boring comment about the weather. What were you expecting anyway? You get it, you do.

But despite the silence, you never doubted that he would show up to the exhibition. If not for you, then he would be there to support Hyunjin.

The only person who really has an inkling that something is wrong is Jess, when you were getting ready together earlier tonight and she helped you conceal your puffy eyes. She’d tiptoed around the question before settling on  asking “Everything okay?” — simple, easy, quickly dismissible if you didn’t feel like sharing.

You didn’t, and she dropped the subject because there was no point in badgering you for answers anyway. 

Chan picked the both of you up afterward, and Jess didn’t have to explain anything to him when she slipped into the backseat with you instead of riding next to her boyfriend.

Now here you are, standing in a room full of your friends and peers, wearing a black dress that Jess helped you choose, and Minho is nowhere to be found. You’d spent all day pacing around, anxious at the mere thought of seeing him and even talking to him. What you hadn’t anticipated was the disappointment, the unbearable feeling in the pit of your stomach in response to his absence. You can’t tell which is worse; maybe every moment without him all sucks the same.

When Hyunjin starts whining and takes out his phone to spam Minho’s messages demanding his location (you’re thankful that it didn’t have to come to you), all he receives in return is a measly “Running late.”

And that’s it. A mere text is enough to satiate everyone’s curiosity. Well, everyone but Hyunjin, because he’s still a nagging drama queen.

Minho is running late, and to anyone else, it’s the most normal thing in the world.

But to you… it means something beyond that. Because this was him. This was your Minho. Your Minho who’s never been known for his tardiness, who’s never once broken a promise, who’s always there for you no matter what.

All you know right now is his absence, and it makes you sink.

You sink, and then you wait. Not a lot to be done about it.

You slip away to a quiet spot, a vacant hallway, to be by yourself while everyone is out there wandering around and gorging themselves on the free food and drinks. You shouldn’t be with them anyway. All you need is to wallow in peace and not be the black cloud hanging over everybody’s heads.

There’s something so incredibly lonely in the act of waiting. Waiting to board a plane, waiting in line at the grocery store. Waiting for a phone call or text message that you know won’t come, waiting for a person whom you can only hope would show up. At the end of the day, that’s what waiting is, isn’t it? It’s wanting. It’s hoping, and if there’s one thing you know about hope, it’s that it’s dangerous.

You wonder if this is how Minho felt all this time, waiting on a girl who’s always prepared to leave. You wonder if, that night, he had expected you to reciprocate his feelings. You did. You do, and a part of you wanted to tell him that you loved him too. The words were there, and yet…

It’s true that you love him, and it’s true that you don’t want to. If hope is dangerous then love is fucking terrifying. 

He’d been so patient with you, so awfully gentle and quiet in the chasm of his waiting that you mistook the tenderness for everything except for what it actually was – love. Or perhaps you did know. Maybe deep down, you knew that you would’ve loved him back with everything you had, with every fiber of your being. That you would’ve let him be the only one to ever really know you, and it felt like a fear greater than you could bear. 

In the end, did you lose him? Can you lose something you never had? It wasn’t a love that you let slip away; it was a what if.

You’re in a room with people who love you and yet, all you can think about is Minho. You miss him so much that it feels like someone has spliced you in two, that it physically makes you ache every second that he isn’t with you. As selfish as it sounds, you want him to walk through the door and you want everything to be okay again. You want to be back in a bubble with just the two of you and a locked box filled with words unsaid. You thought you could stay in that bubble forever, where it was safe and you could pretend that you were happy, and maybe you really were happy with him. But all things — good or bad — must come to an end. The bubble burst, and this was the real world.

You want to undo your cruelty, want him to take back his sincerity. You want an ocean of distance between you and him, you want to pull him as close as humanly possible. All your wants are contradictions. You’re a paradox of puzzle pieces that never seem to fit together.

You want to tell him that it hurts. Want him to make it better because he’s the only one who can make it better.

But miracles rarely happen and there are no shooting stars in sight. Minho was the closest thing you got to a shooting star, burning across your night sky for just a brief moment. Blink and you could miss it. Blink and you did miss him.

Your fingers find his contact in your phone before you could stop yourself, and soon enough, you’re pressing the call button. It’s like drunk dialling, only you aren’t intoxicated. Or maybe you are; maybe you’re under the influence of his absence and how much it stings.

You don’t know why you’re calling him, don’t know what to even say when he picks up.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wonder for long.

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. Please leave your message after the tone,” comes the automated voice on the other end.

For some reason, you don’t hang up. You wait for the beep, then you wait some more. It’s not until ten seconds later that you find your voice, the only thing to come out of your mouth is a quiet Hey.

You clear your throat, rub the sweaty palm of your free hand on your dress. “Hey,” you try again. “It’s… me. I’m at the gallery with everyone. Uhm, they’re all waiting for you. Are you on your way? Are you stuck in traffic? Or did you forget it was today? Hyunjin is trying really hard not to blow up your phone–” You pause to chuckle dryly. “But you know it would mean a lot to him to have you here. It… it’d mean a lot to me too if you were here. I don’t know, I assumed you’d come. I’m sorry, that was stupid of me. I just…” Another pause. This time, it’s so that you could take a breath. “Listen, Minho, I didn’t mean what I said to you. I’m sorry I was an asshole. I’m sorry that I hurt you, I don’t have any excuse for that. You deserve better than me. It’s going to pass, you know? I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time on me, but… you’re going to find someone else, and you’re going to get over it. I’m sorry I fucked everything up. It’s fine if you never want to talk to me again, just please don’t let it get between you and our fr–”

The line beeps again. “To replay the message, press 1. To save the message, press 2. To delete the message, press 3.”

You purse your lips together. There’s still a lump in your throat and no peace to be made. It’s like drunk dialling, only you pull yourself together at the very last second. Your thumb hovers over the dial pad on your phone until you eventually end up on 3, because your cowardice will always triumph in the end. Back to square one. Everything’s still the same as it was five minutes ago.

You force your legs to move, like how you'd force yourself to get up and eat and drink water and shower and be a person these days. When you round the corner, you bump against something solid. A person. The collision isn’t hard enough to knock you backward; they weren’t moving, they’d only been standing still.

You look up at Seungmin, who merely blinks at you. You don’t know how long he’s been here, if he heard anything at all. You swallow once, considering whether you should just play dumb and gauge his reaction or ask point blank if you’ve been caught. He beats you to the decision though.

“You and Minho,” Seungmin says, a bit hesitant, like the topic is weird to bring up. “You’re the girl.”

A deer in headlights, you are. A pathetic one at that, too.

But even then, you’re not panicked, not really. You’re just sad, and the truth was bound to come out eventually. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you say.

The discarded voicemail that he overheard, the dejection written all over your face, the silence from both you and Minho recently — it’s obvious to pretty much everyone, and Seungmin is smarter than most.

He opens his mouth and shuts it again like he’s choosing his words. The Seungmin-esque blank stare melting away to make space for some pity, then a question, “Is there anything left to tell?”

You escape to the empty garden in the back where there were a few lonely chairs set up, so you could have some privacy to talk. Despite everything, it feels like you’ve got a little breathing space, just being able to share this with someone. To not have to carry it all on your own. You’re glad that it was Seungmin who found out first. You have a feeling that he would understand, at least to some degree. You’re relieved, even when the first question that he asks is, “So, how did you fuck it up?”

“Why do you just automatically assume it was me?” You’re mildly offended, even though he’s right.

“Between you and Minho, I’d bet on you.” Seungmin shrugs. “You spook easily.”

“I deeply resent that notion.”

He turns to look at you, no trace of any teasing. “Can you prove me wrong?”

But you can’t, and it tells him as much when you avert his eyes in favor of the ground, where you kick at a lonesome pebble sitting among the grass. It lands somewhere between the green blades, lost in the shadows that cast over parts of the garden that are poorly lit.

“So what happened?” he asks, turning away again to stare out at the empty space. You like to think of it as him giving you some elbow room, to ease the pressure of being scrutinized. And as much as you appreciate it, it still takes you another brief moment before you can formulate a coherent sentence, another minute of twiddling your fingers in your lap.

You tell Seungmin about your first night with Minho – not the details, of course; that would be weird and it’s none of his business. Just that it happened, how you both let it keep happening over the past few months while nobody suspected a thing.

Seungmin nods solemnly, like he’s putting together the missing pieces.

“Did you ever notice anything?” you ask.

“I mean… not about you hooking up, but we thought you’d end up together eventually.” He shrugs. “We always kinda assumed that you two would become those people who make a pact to get married if you’re still single by 40 or 50, if you didn’t get together before then. It makes sense. You and Minho just sort of make sense.”

“Oh,” you say. Your heart swoops. Hearing it from Seungmin makes you sad. Not the same brand of sadness that you’ve been wearing lately though. A different kind, the kind of sadness that’s a little numbing and makes it difficult to breathe. “Well, sorry to disappoint everyone but I don’t think any of it is gonna happen anymore.”

“So… how did it happen?” Seungmin asks again, mimicking explosions with his hands.

You let him off easy without a punch in the shoulder, because you just really don’t have the energy for it right now. “Minho wanted something more,” you tell your friend, fiddling with the rings on your fingers, then with the necklace charm resting on your collarbone. “And I just… I don’t know. I guess I freaked. I… said some awful stuff to him.”

Seungmin hums a sound of acknowledgement. He looks like he’s thinking about it, about you and Minho and what it means. “Classic,” he chuckles after a brief moment, mostly to himself. Maybe he’s thinking about what it means beyond just the pair of you too.

You side-eye him. “You’d know all about it, wouldn’t you?”

He shoots the glance back at you. “What are you trying to say here?”

You remember her, the only girl that Seungmin has ever hinted at liking. He never admitted it out loud to any of you, but you could all see it.

You only used to see her in passing at house parties, and even then, it wasn’t Seungmin nor her who brought the other one around. They would show up separately with their own group, mingle for a while, find each other after a couple of drinks before they disappeared to god-knows-where for the rest of the night. Sometimes, Changbin or Hyunjin would catch them before they could sneak off and insist that Seungmin let everyone get to know his friend.

These brief interactions are all you have with her, meaningless small talk for a few minutes before Seungmin’s patience ran thin and he whisked her away like they’d both intended. You liked her; she was nice, and she was really pretty. You liked her even though you didn’t know her, because she was the one person who Seungmin cared about enough to keep away from prying eyes. A secret shared only between the two of them, a bubble in which only they existed.

The last time you saw her with him must’ve been at least three months ago, maybe even longer. No one really knows what happened, just that she stopped showing up to parties, and Seungmin never brought it up again. You all assumed whatever he had going on with her had run its course, though it doesn’t really stop Hyunjin and Jisung from mentioning her every now and again just to tease him.

“I seem to recall a Halloween party last year and a certain someone was in a bee costume and–”

“Fine,” Seungmin interjects, rolling his eyes. “Fine, we can form our own dumbass club. Happy?”

You laugh a little, even though the whole thing isn’t very funny. Your shared experience is nothing to take pride in.

“So how did you blow it up?” you ask.

He gives you a sour glare before his eyes soften. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and in his silence you find that you and him are more similar in ways that you’ve never cared enough to admit before. This sadness that you carry, you have a feeling that he knows it all too well.

“Like I said, classic,” Seungmin tells you. “She wanted something more. I freaked. I ghosted her.”

A mirror. Two sides of the same stupid coin.

You lean back against your seat. “Did you like her?”

It takes a beat, but his answer comes out as an honest, “Yeah, I liked her. Liked her too much.”

“Why did you do that to her then?”

“Why did you do that to Minho?” Seungmin deadpans, but he doesn’t seem to want a response from you. He just sighs, wistfully adding, “I’ve thought about it a lot. It’s scary to be wanted because it means someone’s putting you on a pedestal, and when you’re on a pedestal, the more it’ll hurt if you fall off. The more they’re counting on you to not let them down, the easier it is to fuck it all up. People like us, we’re flight risks. We can’t help it. We think it’s better to just leave before we can do any real damage. When you said whatever terrible shit you said to Minho, that was the first thing you thought about, right? To be cruel? That’s what I did too. Such a fucking stupid knee-jerk reaction.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you just sit there, completely still. 

Then Seungmin turns to you, and for the first time in all the years that you’ve known him, he’s looking at you, really looking at you. No snarky side-eye, no playful faux glare. Just a strange and unfamiliar sincerity, like he’s asking you to fix what he couldn’t, undo the cruelty that he never bothered apologizing for.

“Minho would understand, you know? If you’d just talk to him,” Seungmin says. “You made a mistake in the heat of the moment. But you want to have something real with him, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here talking to me about this and beating yourself up over it.”

“I told you. That ship sailed.” And you’re standing up for no apparent reason other than the fact that you’re suddenly restless, your stomach twisting in knots out of nowhere. “He’s not even here. He didn’t even show up tonight. I think that’s saying enough.”

Your friend rises to his feet too, probably because he thinks it’s weird to be the only one sitting now while you’re upset and pacing about. It’s not until Seungmin takes a step closer that you realize you’re shaking a little.

“Hey, you good?” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I talked to Minho yesterday. He said he’d come. Maybe something came up or he just–”

Hyunjin’s voice interrupts Seungmin in the middle of his sentence, the excited squeal carrying itself from all the way inside the gallery to the back garden through the door left ajar. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, maybe there’s a reason why people say it. It’s laughable, really.

You and Seungmin both turn your attention to the brief commotion indoors, where you see Hyunjin smiling so big that his eyes have crinkled into crescent moons, where he’s standing with his arm thrown around Minho and shaking him by the shoulders.

These days, it’s easy to pretend that time is standing still. You don’t even know if time is even passing at all; you’re just looking at him, dressed in a black blazer and some dress pants. Casual but he looks good. He always does.

You watch as he says something to Hyunjin that seems to calm the latter down a bit, at least enough for Minho to quickly scan the room, searching. You watch as his eyes sweep through all the people gathered inside, not stopping until they land on you, finding you on the other side of the glass door. Even in this terrible lighting, not entirely visible you assume, he sees you.

There was a conversation you had with Minho some time ago, when you two were sprawled out on your couch munching on strawberry Peperos and not paying attention to the movie that was playing on your TV, when he asked how you wanted your life to be at 40.

You knew what the boring answer was – you wanted your life to be stable, and you told him as much. Isn’t stability always the goal? Maybe a lame corporate job if the whole starving-artist-who-makes-it-big-overnight dream didn’t pan out. A cat and a dog named Mochi and Mocha, if you could afford two pets at once. An apartment that you owned, with framed pictures of everything you loved scattered all over the place, and stupidly cute fairy lights that you often see on Pinterest, and an unfathomable amount of plushies that your inner child was never indulged in. A peaceful and quiet life, at least to some extent. 

The honest answer, the one that you didn’t tell him, was you wanted to not live with regret.

But as you lock eyes with him, for a split second there, you know that you will.

About twenty years down the line, when you look back on your life and think of this chapter, you’ll think about a boy who loved you and whom you loved. How you broke both of your hearts trying to protect your own. You’ll wonder if he’s married, if he has kids, if he still reminisces about the girl he used to love when he was young. If he’s happy and if his dreams came true. If the sadness you caused yourself was worth it, if the pain meant anything at all. If you could go back in time and undo everything, would you?

You’ll get over it eventually – surely you will; heartbreak isn’t the end of the world – but you’ll live with the grief of what could’ve been if you weren’t afraid. You’ll be left to mourn the road not taken, your almost but never was. 

You’re the one who moves first, when it starts to become a struggle just to breathe. You stumble away from Minho’s line of sight, until you find a wall that you can rest against.

Seungmin is quick to follow. “Hey, woah, are you okay?”

Your hands alternate between balling themselves into tight fists and attempting in vain to grab at the flat surface of the concrete. There are no words that you can form to answer him. Only your ragged breathing and your pathetic effort to take in some air through your mouth.

“Okay, shit, uhm,” Seungmin sputters. “Hang on.”

Then he’s taking off. You don’t know how long he’s gone for, where he’s gone off to, and frankly, you can’t really bring yourself to care. Your hands abandon the wall in favor of your dress, something that you can actually hold onto. Your trembling fingers clutch the hem of your dress like they’re pretending it’s a lifeline, bunching and twisting the fabric in your sweaty palms. Hoping it’ll help, but it doesn’t at all.

Even over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, you could hear new footsteps coming out into the empty garden. Rushed at first, then they stop for a brief moment. You know who it is before he even approaches you.

Damn that Kim Seungmin.

The familiar scent of his cologne greets you before his voice. You spent hours and hours enveloped in this scent until it was dulled by sweat from the activities you were engaged in, if it wasn’t already softened by the kisses you would leave all over his skin.

When he calls your name, it comes out so soft, like you never broke his heart in the first place and that night was only a figment of your twisted imagination. He sounds so gentle, yet it sends you further down the crippling spiral. You don’t deserve him; maybe you never did, despite what Seungmin tried to put through your head earlier.

“I’m fine.” But you know your appearance has already betrayed your words. The first thing you say to him in weeks, and it’s a lie. You’re still leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped tightly around your trembling frame and your eyes squeezed shut. It’s a pitiful sight. Even more so when it registers in your brain that it’s Minho of all people who’s witnessing it. 

He doesn’t say anything else, only lets out a sigh, and then his hand is on your body, a warm palm touching the small of your back out of habit before he moves it upward to rub between your shoulder blades. “Can you breathe?”

His question makes you all too aware that there’s something gnawing inside of your chest, makes you think for a second there that you’re going to die though you know that you won’t. You shake your head with your eyes still closed, your breathing coming out more ragged by the second. You can’t even bear to look at him and absorb the worry in his eyes; you’re sure you’ll only cry if you do, and it’s the last thing you need right now.

But it turns out that seeing Minho’s face isn’t the only thing that can bring you to tears. When you feel him tug at your arms, his warmth on your bare skin, you start crying anyway and that makes it even harder to breathe. There’s not a single ounce of resistance in your body, your limbs obeying him easily when they untangle themselves around your waist to fall by your sides as he pulls you into his chest, with one hand over your sternum and his thumb rubbing back and forth. He’s careful about it too, like he’s handling broken pieces of something that used to be beautiful.

“You’re okay,” he says, but you’ve got your face pressed into the crook of his neck and your tears are staining the collar of his shirt. “You’re gonna be fine. Just… listen to me.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to speak next.

“Name three things you can see,” he says. “You don’t have to say it out loud. Just think about it.”

You open your eyes finally, angling your head until most of your vision isn’t obstructed by the proximity of his body. Minho tightens his arm around you, and you blink away some of the tears.

Your black heels that your mom got you for your birthday a while ago.

The grass, darkened green and damp.

Him. 

“Three things you can hear.”

Light chatter coming from inside the gallery.

Cars passing by on the adjacent street.

Him, the sound of his breathing.

“Three things you can touch.”

The soft material of your dress against your skin.

The bracelet, hugging your wrist, weighing you down like an anchor.

And… him.

Him, him, him.

You don’t know what reason Minho makes up to excuse you for the rest of night, but you don’t bother asking. There’s really no space left in your head to think about it twice, to care about leaving your friends or feel guilty about Hyunjin because he was so excited about today. It’s too much; all you want is to go home, get away from here.

Minho calls you both an Uber back to your place. During the entire ride, he doesn’t say a word and neither do you. And even though you mostly opt for looking out the window at the other cars and houses and people passing by, every now and then you could feel his eyes on you from the other side of the backseat.

When you arrive, he keeps a hand on the small of your back as you make your way up the stairs. When you unlock the door, you leave it open so he could follow you inside. You suppose that one is a force of habit. You’re not used to shutting the door in his face. At least, not in the literal sense anyway.

Then it returns, that gnawing feeling. A feeling far too colossal for your body to house. It sits somewhere inside your ribcage, sharp and desperate, with claws trying to dig its way out. And for the first time in maybe ever, you understand what it truly means to want something this badly. You love him, and it hurts. You love him even though it hurts.

Minho moves around the place while you remain frozen in the middle of your own apartment, as if he’s the one who lives here and you’re just visiting for the night. You let him take off your makeup (with a wipe; you’re going to hate yourself in the morning), let him help you change into clothes that you can sleep in, even let him tuck you into bed like you’re a helpless child. If he notices the bracelet on you, he doesn’t say anything. Everything is done in silence.

You don’t look him in the eye. You don’t think you can handle what you’ll find there.

But you do reach for his hand when he tries to leave now that there’s nothing left for him to do here. There’s not a single thought behind your action, just a need to have him near.

“Can you…?” 

You aren’t brave enough to finish the question, your voice trailing off and the words dissipating like smoke after a lonely cigarette drag. You’re being selfish right now, you’re awfully aware of this.

Minho doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even let out a single sigh. For a second there, you think he’s about to leave you here, cold and alone, just like you had done to him. It would be nothing less than what you deserve.

But then he’s shrugging off his blazer and your heart is in your throat. When he slips into bed beside you, something hurts, the kind of ache that spreads all across your chest and makes your lungs burn.

Earlier tonight, he could’ve walked away and let you be somebody else’s burden. Your friends were all there, it’s not like they would’ve left you stranded.

You’re not really sure what to think. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate you, but maybe it’s just enough confirmation that he doesn’t hate you more than he loves you.

You break the deafening stretch of silence with a whisper, “I’m sorry.” You don’t know what the apology is for. Are you sorry for that night, for the things you said to him? Are you sorry that you’re only yourself, that he just had to go ahead and fall for you of all people? Sorry that you’re too much of a coward and a lost cause to love him right? You don’t know, but it feels appropriate to apologize. You owe him that much.

“Don’t…” Minho says after a while. “You don’t have to do that.”

The familiar sensation returns – the one that stings the back of your eyes, burns your nostrils and makes you all choked up. You try to hold your breath and will it away, but the first tear spills without your permission, and you can’t help the shaky inhale – close to a gasp and followed by a sniffle – that punctuates your lungs when they start protesting against the sudden lack of oxygen. 

You grip the sheets so hard you think you could rip through the fabric and dig into your own palm. It’s a pathetic feeling, like a strange kind of embarrassment that you can’t quite describe. The room is deadly quiet; you know there’s no way he didn’t catch the noise.

You hear Minho shift from where he lays behind you, some rustling when he moves against the duvet and the mattress. “Don’t cry,” he sighs. And it’s still so gentle. You’ve never known him to be anything but gentle.

You bite the inside of your cheek, blinking some of the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… don’t cry.” It sounds like he’s holding something back but you aren’t sure. “Don’t cry. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning, if you want.”

You sniffle some more, and maybe that makes Minho think he still needs to appease you even further. He reaches out finally, to brush a comforting hand against your arm. “Go to sleep. Promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You don’t know if you want to talk in the morning, because there’s nothing for you to say. All you really have is what he’s already heard – I’m sorry, like an utterly broken record. But you want him to stay even if it’s only for the morning. Even if all he’ll get is silence at best and choked up breaths at worst. Your last-ditch attempt at grasping straws, a futile effort to chase running water.

“Okay,” you tell him, and neither of you says anything afterward. The tears keep falling for a while, and at some point it tires you out enough to slip into a dreamless sleep.

When you open your eyes hours later, the sun is already up. The clock on your phone reads 7:06AM and the first thing you register is an uncomfortable dryness in your throat. Behind you, the bed is still warm. You can actually feel it underneath your fingertips when you reach out, the warmth dwindling from the side of the bed that’s been left vacant. Minho has never broken a promise to you before.

He’s gone, and you sink again.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.01.2025]

[mofongomuncher]

𝙃𝙚𝙧 (PT 2)

(Ekko X Reader)

❥ cast : ! Ekko and Reader ¡

The days following their argument were long, stretching into what felt like an eternity. Y/N tried to keep her distance, give him time to breathe, but every moment apart only deepened the chasm between them. It wasn’t just Ekko anymore—it was.

It was jinx

Every time she thought about her, Y/N could feel her blood boil, could feel the growing resentment bubbling beneath her skin. It wasn't rational, she knew that. Ekko had said it himself—Jinx wasn't the same person she once was, that she wasn't even the same person anymore.

But it didn't matter. The truth was, Y/N was starting to hate her. She hated the way Jinx still haunted Ekko, the way she lingered in his every thought, in every word he spoke.

She wasn't stupid. She had seen the way Ekko's face softened whenever Jinx was mentioned, the way his voice trembled with guilt and regret. She could feel it—a constant reminder that he wasn't fully hers. Not while Jinx was still there, buried deep inside his heart.

Y/N didn't even want to think about what they had gone through. The loss, the violence, the twisted game Jinx had played on that ship. Every time she closed her eyes, the memory of the Firelights' death toll flashed before her—the way Jinx had obliterated their lives, the way Ekko had carried the weight of that destruction like a curse.

And he had the nerve to say those things to her.

To attack her and not Jinx.

The resentment festered, a dark seed growing in her chest. It twisted the memories of Ekko's smile, his touch, and his promises, turning them into something bitter. Y/N had given so much of herself to him, only to feel like she was always going to be second place. Everything was a lie.

All of it.

The voices that once whispered assurances now screamed in fury.

Why wasn't she enough?

Y/N walked the streets of Zaun, the lights from the neon signs flickering and buzzing around her. The night air felt cold against her skin, her steps were heavy, like each movement took more energy than the last.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to break something, anything, just to feel something other than the ache that seemed to consume her. But all she could do was walk, lost in her own thoughts, drifting through the world without really being a part of it.

The Last Drop was always there when she needed it. The familiar clink of glasses, the low hum of conversation, the smoky air—it all felt like a distant memory of better times, of times when she could forget about the weight of her world.

She wasn't there for fun. She wasn't there to be social. She was there because she needed to disappear, even for just a little while.

She pushed through the door, the warmth of the bar greeting her, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The usual faces were scattered around the dimly lit room...But.

Her eyes immediately landed on the corner booth. There was a man sitting there, Sipping a drink, his posture stiff, his face drawn in frustration. He didn't belong to the usual crowd of drunks and gamblers that populated the bar. There was something different about him—something that made her pause for a second.

She could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped his glass as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded. She didn't know why, but she felt...drawn to him.

With a deep breath, Y/N made her way to the bar, ordering something strong to quiet the storm inside her. But she couldn't stop glancing toward the man in the corner. His energy was familiar in some way, she wasn't sure what possessed her, but she found herself walking over to his booth—taking the seat across from him without asking.

He didn't even look up when she sat down, his gaze fixated on the swirling liquid in his glass.

"You look like you're carrying the weight of the world huh..." Y/N said, her eyes studying him carefully.

The man's eyes flickered briefly toward her before he sighed, rubbing his temple with one hand. "Maybe I am.." he muttered, his voice. "Isn't that how it goes though? You give everything, and it's just...still not enough."

Y/N tilted her head, her heart skipping a beat all of sudden. She had never met this man, but those words hit her like a punch to the gut.

She swallowed hard, fighting the wave of emotion threatening to overtake her. "Ye—yeah..." she replied softly. "You do everything you can for someone, and you still end up feeling like you were never really part of their life. Like they were just passing time until something better came along."

The man turned his gaze toward her then, studying her face with a strange mix of curiosity and recognition. "Sounds like you know exactly what I'm talking about, huh..." he said, his voice softer now, the walls around him crumbling just a little bit.

Y/N forced a small, humorless laugh. "Yeah, well... I guess I know the feeling all too well. Thought I was helping someone, thought I was worth something to them. Turns out, I was just the backup. The second choice."

The man's eyes softened, and for a moment, Y/N could see the pain in them, the weariness that matched her own. He leaned back in his seat, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass, lost in thought.

"You ever wonder if you're the one who's wrong? Like...maybe you're the one who's been selfish this whole time, thinking you were the one who should be chosen?"

Y/N stiffened at the question. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean...." he continued, his gaze steady on her, "....maybe they had their reasons. Maybe you weren't the one they were supposed to be with. Maybe they had their own battles, their own reasons for making the choices they did."

Y/N clenched her jaw, the anger rising again.

"It doesn't matter. They chose someone else, and that's all that matters. I gave everything to them, and that still wasn't enough."

The man studied her carefully, his brow furrowed. "You're angry because you didn't get what you wanted....But sometimes, what you want isn't the best thing for you. Sometimes, letting go...is the only thing that can set you free."

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his words sinking in. There was a truth in them—one that was hard to face, but so impossible to ignore. She had been so consumed with wanting Ekko, with trying to prove that she was the one who mattered, that she hadn't stopped to think about what was best for her.

"Maybe..." she muttered, her voice distant now, lost in the realization. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I need to let go."

The man offered her a small, understanding smile. "I know It's never easy, but sometimes...holding on to something that's already gone only makes it harder to move forward. You can't keep fighting for someone who's not fighting for you."

Y/N looked down at her drink, the truth settling heavily in her chest. She didn't want to admit it, but she knew.

he was right.

"Guess we're both just in the same boat right now huh?" she said, her voice softer now.

He chuckled, a quiet, dry laugh."Yeah. I guess we are."

For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. A shared pain, a shared loss, and perhaps, a glimmer of hope that they might both find a way to heal. The quiet was heavy, yet somehow comfortable, as though their presence alone was enough to ease the weight of the world for just a while.

The man sitting across from her had a quiet kind of beauty, the kind that spoke of sadness but also strength. His face was striking, with chiseled features that seemed sculpted by time and hardship. High cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and full lips that had a softness to them, as if the weight of the world hadn't completely hardened him. His dark brown eyes held so much depth, a sadness that she could relate to, yet there was a quiet warmth in them, as though he carried his own story and understood hers without needing to ask.

His skin, a rich hue of warm caramel, seemed to glow faintly under the dim light of the room, and his hair was dark and unruly, falling just above his eyebrows in waves. There was something about him—something raw and real—that made it impossible to look away.

"You know." he said quietly, looking at her with those intense eyes. "Healing... healing is possible." His voice was steady, a gentle reassurance that seemed to cut through the fog of her own doubts.

"You're stronger than you think. You've been through more than most people ever will, and you're still here. That means something."

Y/N swallowed, feeling a weight lift in her chest at his words. There was something about the way he looked at her, as if he truly saw her, not just the surface but the person beneath the layers of hurt. It made her feel... lighter, in a way. It made her feel like she wasn't as alone as she had thought.

But as quickly as it had begun, the moment seemed to come to an end. He stood slowly, his movements deliberate but soft, like he was giving her space to breathe. "I should head out now...it's getting late." he said, his voice gentle. "I'm Levi, by the way. It was really good talking to you...I hope... I hope you find peace."

Y/N nodded, her heart stirring with sadness.

"I'm Y/N." she whispered, her voice a little stronger than she had expected. "Thank you, Levi. For everything...really."

Levi offered her one last smile, a sad but sincere one, before turning to leave.

Y/N was left sitting there, the weight of the moment settling on her chest. She didn't know what it was about Levi or why their brief exchange had felt so significant. But as she sat there, she realized something—something small but important.

Healing.

Y/N stormed out of the Last Drop, her mind now a whirlwind of frustration, confusion, and anger. The conversation with Levi, though brief, had rattled her in ways she wasn't prepared for. His words echoed in her mind, a reminder of the things she wasn't ready to hear. Things about moving on, about not letting the past define her.

But how could she let go when every step forward felt like a push to forget everything she'd ever cared about?

She needed to release the pressure building in her chest—the tightness in her throat, the weight pressing down on her heart. She needed to stop pretending that everything was okay.

As she walked, her steps quickening with each passing second, her thoughts turned darker. She wasn't just angry at the world, at the people who kept letting her down.

No, the anger had a target, a name.

Ekko.

It was his fault she felt so torn. He had pulled her in, made her believe that there was something more between them, something worth fighting for.

But then there was Jinx—always in the back of his mind, always there, even when she wasn't.

"Why am I always second place?" she muttered to herself, the irritation simmering just below the surface. She walked faster, her fist clenching at her side.

Suddenly, a group of men appeared ahead of her, their figures blurry from the haze of anger and alcohol clouding her mind. They eyed her with a mix of amusement and mockery, clearly seeing her as an easy target.

One of them stepped forward, a grin playing at the corners of his lips.

"What's a girl like you doing out here alone, huh?" one of them sneered. "You look like you could use a little help... or maybe some company?"

Y/N gritted her teeth, her fists clenching at her sides. "Don't touch me..." she mumbled.

She wasn't in the mood for their games, not after everything she had been through.

The man chuckled, clearly unfazed. "What's wrong? Scared?" He took a step closer, reaching out as if to grab her, but she swatted his hand away.

"Don't.." she said again, her voice firmer now, though the slight tremble in her tone betrayed her.

Another man laughed, stepping forward as well. The situation shifted in an instant. The first man lunged toward her, grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her forward, trying to pin her against the wall. The others crowded in, grinning and jeering, as they made a move to steal whatever coins she had on her.

"Let go!" Y/N snarled, swinging her free arm at one of the men, landing a punch across his cheek. The other men stepped back, laughing at her resistance as if it was all some kind of joke.

But her blows weren't enough to stop them. One of the men twisted her arm behind her back, the pain shooting through her body as she struggled against his grip.

Panic surged in her chest, her mind spiraling. She tried to kick out, but another man knocked her to the ground, pinning her there.

The weight of it all came crashing down. Her anger, her sorrow, her fear, her confusion—it all hit her at once, and in that moment, all the walls she had built around herself shattered. Tears streamed down her face as she gasped for air, her body shaking. She had fought so hard to hold herself together, but here she was now, on the dirty ground with these men looming over her, she felt like nothing.

Like everything she had ever done had led to this. To this moment right here.

"Get off me." she sobbed, voice breaking as she cried out for help, but her words fell on deaf ears.

Just as one of the men raised his fist to hit her, the air around her shifted. She felt a shift in the chaos. In an instant, the man was knocked to the side with a force that made her blink.

She didn't know what was happening at first, too disoriented by the rush of adrenaline. But the sound of the hoverboard—the unmistakable hum she had come to associate with reached her ears before she could register anything else.

In a flash, Ekko appeared, taking out the men one by one with ease. His movements were fluid,

calculated—each strike swift and precise. He didn't hesitate, didn't give them a chance to fight back.

The men were on the ground in a matter of seconds, groaning in pain, unable to get up.

Y/N's heart raced, a surge of relief washing over her for just a second. But then, as Ekko slid to a stop in front of her, his boots barely scraping against the pavement, her stomach sank.

He was standing there, breathing heavily, looking at her with that familiar, protective look she had seen so many times before.

"Y/N..." he said, his voice softer than usual, eyes scanning her body for any visible harm.

But before he could even take a step toward her, she shoved him away, her hands pressing against his chest with more force than she intended.

"D-Don't!" she snapped, her voice shaking with anger. She couldn't even bring herself to look him in the eyes. "Don't you dare say it..."

Ekko stumbled back, confusion flashing across his face. "What? I'm just trying to—"

"Trying to what?" she cut him off, her eyes blazing with fury. "Trying to tell me how reckless I am? How I always mess everything up? Just like you did before? You think you're the only one who can handle things? You think I need you to save me every damn time?" Her voice cracked at the end, her anger suddenly giving way to the overwhelming emotions she had been holding back for so long.

Ekko's eyes widened as her words hit him, and for a moment, he couldn't speak. His chest tightened, a heavy weight pressing down on him. He had seen her angry before, but this... this was different. This wasn't just about the fight.

It was everything that had been building up for weeks, everything he had said to her—everything he hadn't said. He'd hurt her more than he realized.

He stepped back, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"I didn't mean to—" His voice faltered, thick with guilt. "Y/N, I—"

"No Ekko.." she snapped, tears welling in her eyes despite the fierce expression on her face. "You don't get how it feels to be the one who's always fucking second. To be the one who's constantly told that I'm not good enough, that I'm a liability....You think I don't know what you really think of me? How you'd rather save her than me." She wiped at her eyes angrily.

Ekko's heart dropped. He knew who she was talking about.

The realization hit him like a wave. All this time, he had been so focused on protecting her, on trying to keep her safe, that he had completely ignored what she needed from him. She didn't need saving. She didn't need his constant worry, his control. She needed him to understand her, to be there for her in the way that mattered, not just when things got bad.

And he had failed her.

His voice was quiet now. "Y/N, I...I never wanted to make you feel like that. I never wanted you to think I cared more about her. It's just—"

"No..." she interrupted, shaking her head violently. "You're so damn obsessed with her, and you can't even see what's right in front of you." Her voice cracked again, but this time, she didn't try to hide it. "I'm right here, Ekko. I'm always here. I always have been."

Ekko stood there, completely frozen, as her words slammed into him. The truth of what he had done to her finally settled in, heavy and suffocating.

The anger, the hurt in her eyes—it all became clear.

He hadn't just been protecting her...he had been holding her back. He had been so caught up in his own fears, in his past, that he had completely disregarded what she truly needed from him.

that realization crushed him more than anything else.

"Y/N...please.." he said, his voice breaking as he took a hesitant step forward. "I... I didn't know. I didn't know how much I was pushing you away. I never meant to make you feel like you were second. You're not. You're never second."

Y/N didn't answer at first. She just stood there, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She was so frustrated and heartbroken, but underneath it all, there was something softer—a part of her that was just as desperate, desperate for him to understand.

I don't want to be a shadow anymore Ekko" she whispered, her voice barely audible now. "I just want to be enough."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, before he could even process them, she collapsed—her knees giving out beneath her as she crumpled to the ground.

Her body trembled with each sob, her face hidden in her hands as the alcohol and the weight of everything she had been carrying overwhelmed her all at once.

Ekko stood frozen for a moment, his heart in his throat. He didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to fix this, how to make things right. But as he watched her fall apart in front of him, everything he had been holding back came crashing down. This wasn't just about Jinx anymore. This wasn't about him trying to protect her or save her from herself.

This was about him failing her when she needed him the most.

Without thinking, he dropped to his knees beside her, his arms reaching out instinctively. He pulled her close, cradling her against his chest as she cried. She wasn't saying anything now, just letting the tears flow, the weight of everything she had been carrying threatening to crush her completely.

Ekko didn't speak. He didn't say anything at all. He just held her. In complete silence.

His hand brushed over her hair, trying to comfort her in the only way he knew how. "I'm sorry.." he whispered after a while, his voice thick with emotion. "...I'm so sorry Y/N."

Her sobs began to go quiet. She didn't answer at first, still struggling to regain control of her breath, her chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. The weight of everything—the alcohol, the anger, the broken trust—was starting to lift just a little, but the pain was still there.

Deep, raw, and unrelenting.

Ekko held her tighter, unwilling to let go, unwilling to let her face this alone anymore. He knew his words could never fix what had happened. He had failed her, hurt her, and he was going to have to work harder than he ever had before to earn her trust again.

"I never meant to hurt you baby.." he continued, his voice soft but full of regret. "I should've seen it. I should've understood how you felt. I... I don't know what I was thinking. I thought I was protecting you, but I was only pushing you away. And—And I'm so sorry."

There was a slight shift in her posture. She wasn't pulling away, but she wasn't completely letting herself fall into him either. The hurt was still there, and it wasn't going to disappear overnight. It couldn't.

After a long moment of silence, she spoke. "I don't know if I can trust you again" she whispered, the vulnerability in her words cutting through him like a blade. "I just...can't keep doing this."

Ekko's heart sank at the raw honesty in her voice. He knew she was right.

"I know.." he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've made you feel like that, and I hate myself for it...So fucking much. But you are enough Y/N. More than enough. And I'll spend every day proving that to you if I have to."

The words hung in the air, but for Y/N, they felt so distant. Something shifted inside her as the weight of Levi's words settled like an anchor in her chest.

You deserve someone who makes you feel like you're the only one.

The sharp clarity of that truth hit her hard, the bitter realization that no matter how hard Ekko tried, no matter how much he cared for her, she was always going to be second place in his heart.

Her gaze flickered away from his, her throat tightening as she struggled to find the right words. She could hear Ekko's voice, soft and sincere, but it couldn't drown out the inner voice that had been growing louder in her mind. The truth she had been avoiding for so long...

Ekko will always have one foot in the past.

She knew, deep down, that he was still tethered to Jinx. No matter how much he tried to prove otherwise, no matter how many promises he made, he could never fully release her. She would always be the first choice in his heart.

That lingering ghost that casted a shadow over everything Y/N dreamed to build with him.

Y/N took a slow, shaky breath. "I—I don't know what to say Ekko."

Ekko's face tightened with concern, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

Y/N shook her head, the tears that had threatened to fall now blurring her vision. "I...I want to believe you. I really fucking do..." she whispered. "I want to believe that you can love me the way I deserve. But I... I can't keep fighting for a place in your heart."

The words felt like a punch to her own chest, but they were the truth.

She had to say them.

Ekko's expression faltered, the guilt and regret washing over him. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, wanted to say that Jinx didn't matter to him anymore, that Y/N was his choice. But he couldn't.

Y/N took a step back, her chest tightening as she wiped away a tear. "I can't keep pretending that it doesn't matter Ekko. I can't keep pretending that I'm enough when you're always looking back at her."

"I'm not—" he started, but Y/N cut him off.

"No.." she said, her voice a little stronger now, though it still trembled. "You can't choose me the way I need you to. And...I—I deserve someone who chooses me, not someone who's always going to have a piece of their heart somewhere else."

Ekko stood there, speechless. He wanted to say something, to make her understand that he never meant to hurt her, that he loved her so much, but the truth was..

she was right.

Y/N could see the pain in his eyes, but it wasn't enough. Not anymore. "I think it's time for me to move on..." she whispered, her voice cracking.

Her words hung heavy in the air, like an unspeakable truth, and Ekko's chest tightening with each syllable she uttered. His mouth opened, but no words came out. It made it impossible for him to respond.

Y/N took a shaky breath, "I've given everything I can to this... to us" she continued, her voice a little steadier now. "But I can't keep sacrificing myself.."

Ekko's heart cracked at the finality in her words. She did deserve better than the half-hearted love he was giving her.

"I'm so sorry Y/N." he murmured, the words feeling empty as they left his mouth, too late, too little.

But Y/N couldn't let herself be swayed by his sorrowful tone anymore. The trust she had placed in him had been shattered over time, and now all that remained was the stark truth of what was.

She took another step back, her shoulders squared, her chin raised high. She wouldn't let him break her again.

"I know.." she whispered, her voice quieter now, the words more for herself than for him. "But knowing doesn't change anything." She paused, taking a deep breath before the words she knew she had to say. "I'm sorry too Ekko. But this is goodbye."

The finality in her voice struck him right then and there. For a moment, he just stared at her, his mind racing, trying to comprehend what she was saying. He didn't know how to make her stay now, everything he had done had already pushed her too far.

Ekko's sudden frustration grew. He moved toward her quickly, grabbing onto her arm with a fierce grip. "No Y/N" he growled, his voice rough. "You can't just—"

But before he could finish, he saw it. The way she stiffened at his touch, not even glancing at him. The realization hit him like a cold wave. She was done. Completely done. She wasn't going to let him hurt her anymore.

His fingers tightened around her arm, almost instinctively, but her cold silence forced him to slowly let go. Every ounce of frustration, and heartbreak he had been holding onto drained out of him in that one moment.

"Please baby..." he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking as the weight of what he had done sank in. "Please...not like this.."

Y/N didn't respond. She just pulled her arm free and took another step back, distancing herself from him.

Ekko stood there, stuck—feeling like the ground had been pulled out from under him.

it was too late.

Y/N had already made up her mind.

"Goodbye...Ekko..."

With one final look, she turned and walked away from him, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the empty street. And as he watched her leave, he finally understood. This time, he couldn't fix it.

And this time, he wasn't sure if he even deserved to.

She was gone. And it was his fault.

The night air felt cold against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat building in his chest. Every emotion that had once fueled him had been extinguished, replaced by a hollow emptiness that felt like a slow suffocation.

He had pushed her away. He had let his insecurities, his fears about Jinx, and his own selfishness dictate his actions. And now, he was left with nothing but the echo of her words, ringing in his ears.

"I think it's time for me to move on..."

He thought back to everything he had said. He had never given her what she needed, and now, she was gone.

He didn't know how long he stood there, lost in his thoughts, but eventually, the reality of the situation settled in. She wasn't coming back.

He had lost her, and he had no one to blame but himself.

Ekko finally turned away from the spot where she had stood, walking slowly through the streets. The city was as chaotic as ever, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Nothing mattered anymore.

He didn't know what to do next, or how to fix what he had broken. But one thing was clear.

he would never forget her.

He would never forget Y/N.

Y/N found herself lying on the cold ground. She didn't know how she had gotten there, didn't even bother to care anymore. Her body felt numb, her mind in a haze from the alcohol and the emotional wreck that had occurred. She stared up at the sky, trying to steady her breathing, but the weight of everything, the loneliness—pressed down on her chest.

For a moment, she thought she might suffocate under it all.

But then, something shifted next to her. The air around her seemed to change, as if the world was still holding its breath. She turned her head to the side.

And there he was again.

Levi's familiar face appeared beside her, his features soft in the dim green light, his eyes blinking as if he'd just woken up. He was lying next to her, his arm stretched out across the cold ground, looking every bit as confused as she was right now. His dark hair fell messily around his face.

and for a brief second, Y/N felt a strange sense of peace.

Levi blinked a few more times, his confusion slowly giving way to a soft smile as he realized it was her. "Y/N?" he muttered, his voice low and slightly groggy. "What the hell are you doing out here? Did you follow me here?"

Y/N didn't respond immediately. She just kept staring at him, taking in the sight of him as if he were a lifeline thrown her way in the midst of drowning. His presence was a stark contrast to everything she'd just gone through.

Without even thinking, she threw her arms around him. The hug came out of nowhere, and for a moment, Levi froze in place, his breath catching in surprise. But then, slowly, his big strong arms circled around her too. She buried her face in his chest, holding on tightly, as if afraid he might disappear the moment she let go.

Levi, still shocked but now fully awake, whispered into her hair. "Y/N what's going on? Are you okay?"

She shook her head, her voice muffled by his shirt as the tears she hadn't let fall earlier started to come. She couldn't find the words to explain the storm swirling inside her, but the hug was enough to make her feel like she wasn't entirely alone. Not for now. Not in this moment.

"I don't know," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I don't know anymore."

Levi didn't ask any more questions. Instead, he just held her tighter, letting her cry into his chest. The city of Zaun seemed distant, as if the noise of it all had faded away. For now, in his arms, she found something she hadn't realized she needed—comfort. Understanding. And for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like she was falling apart completely.

As her tears slowed, she pulled back away from him to meet his gaze. There was something in his eyes, something so kind. He was there. And for the first time in a long time, Y/N didn't feel like she was carrying the weight of the world alone.

"I'm so sorry" she whispered again, her voice quieter this time, her eyes searching his face.

Levi gave her a small, almost sad smile. "Don't apologize...We all have our moments. I'm just glad you found me, even if it's in the middle of the damn street."

Y/N chuckled softly, wiping at her eyes. "Yeah, well... wasn't exactly the plan."

Levi tilted his head, a crooked smile playing on his lips. "The best things never are I guess..."

She smiled faintly, the weight on her chest lifting just a little. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't feel completely alone. They sat there in comfortable silence, the distant hum of Zaun's chaos fading into the background.

As the minutes stretched, the exhaustion of the day began to settle in. Y/N leaned back against the cold ground, staring up at the patch of stars visible through the smoke-filled air. Levi followed, his arms folding beneath his head as he lay beside her.

"You know..." he said after a moment, "this is probably the strangest way I've ever made a friend."

Y/N turned her head to look at him, a faint laugh escaping her lips. "Friend, huh? Is that what we are now?"

"Would you prefer being enemies now?" Levi replied, chuckling.

She rolled her eyes, but there was a softness to her expression. "Nah, I could use a friend right now."

"Good." he said, his tone light. "Because I could use one too."

They stayed like that, lying side by side under Zaun's polluted sky. Y/N's eyes grew heavy, the day's events finally catching up to her.

"Levi?" she murmured sleepily.

"Hm?"

"Thanks for... being here. Even though we just met today.." she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Anytime" he replied softly.

"Get some rest, Y/N. You're safe."

And she really did believe him.

They both drifted off there on the cold ground of Zaun, two broken souls finding solace in each other's company.

It wasn't perfect, and it didn't fix everything, but it was a start.

I will be posting a happy for the Reader and Ekko ending soon <3.

Just had to let this one sink in fr.

Check out my Ekko one shots on Wattpad for more stories!! :3

[jessjad]

Rightfully deceived

Epilogue

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1079

Warnings: none really.

A/N: I hope you all had wonderful holidays and a good start into the new year! 😁 And here is the end of my story. All mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

One year later...

It was late November again, a bitterly cold wind was blowing across the country and the first snow had already fallen. A sight that always made Y/N wistful. She looked out the window across the white fields and icy trees to the horizon, behind which the sun had now almost disappeared. The orange-red light made the snow sparkle. Her mom had loved winter, which made the memories of her death bittersweet.

A lot had happened in the last year and Y/N had often wished she could exchange a few words with her mom, ask her for advice or just hug her. She had been the good soul of her clan and had cared for everyone. A trait that the young woman hoped she had inherited. But there was no way to talk to her anymore and so Y/N had to do a lot of things alone for the first time.

It had often been difficult or even frightening, but Millie had always been by her side and supported her from woman to woman. But not just her. Dean hadn't left her alone anymore either. Although it wasn't always that easy for him too. But each situation had strengthened their relationship more and more.

When Y/N thought of her husband, she couldn't help but smile. She had loved him for so long and her heart almost burst with happiness because Dean had also loved her before. Even if it took him a long time to realize it. And he had tried to explain it to her over and over again. The Alex incident had been followed by many long nights of conversation. Honest, open hours full of feelings and affection. There had been days when she no longer believed that this was even possible.

The door behind her opened and Dean walked in, carrying some firewood under his arm. As soon as he saw his wife standing at the window turning to him with a loving smile, he had to smile too. What kind of year had it been? It had had its ups and downs and often wasn't easy, but they had persevered through everything together.

It had shocked his clan when Dean had shot Alex. Many people didn't understand it at first, but there were enough witnesses on the tower who could confirm the necessity. But it probably hit Cassie the most. In the days that followed, she seemed completely different. She had withdrawn and appeared thoughtful. After about four days, she had sincerely apologized to Y/N and Dean for her behavior and told them that she couldn't stay here any longer.

Y/N had reacted to this with mixed feelings. After all, Cassie hadn't tried to drive her away or kill her. And even though she was offended by her behavior, his wife had shown compassion. In the end, she could understand what it was like to be in love with someone for a long time without those feelings being reciprocated. But Cassie couldn't stay any longer and so they let her go.

"You okay there, my love?" asked Dean as he put more firewood on the fire.

"Yes, yes. It's just this time of year and the snow." Y/N answered and turned back to the window.

Dean stood up again and came over to her. He put his arms around her from behind and looked out into the wintry world with her for a while. He knew that it made her a little melancholy, but that also passed.

"I just prefer summer." she turned around in Dean's arms. "Especially when you're on the high seas."

He had to chuckle at that and hugged his wife a little tighter.

Y/N had accompanied him on many business trips and in May Dean had extended the business trip by three weeks and had taken her to France. Also so that he could show her the stars on the open sea on clear early summer nights.

"We can do that again next year." he replied, which earned him a beaming smile from his wife.

"But you know it won't be as easy as this year, right? After all, we're not alone anymore."

Dean smiled now. "Which probably makes it even nicer." He gave her a quick kiss on the lips and let go of Y/N to go to the second door in the bedroom, which was open a crack and gave a small glimpse into the room behind it.

They had had to switch bedrooms three months ago and had now moved into a larger room because they simply needed the extra space. And they were also closer to Sam and Millie, who had finally gotten married in July and were now overjoyed themselves.

"How is he doing?"

"No! Stop, Dean! You're gonna wake Connor up!" Y/N whispered loudly with a chuckle as she saw how Dean attempted to open the door a little further.

"He'll be fine." He replied, but hesitated for a second before he opened the door a little more.

Y/N came over to him and both looked to the small bed in which their son lied and slept peacefully.

Dean pulled Y/N to his side and she hugged him back. He placed a kiss on her hairline, enjoying the warmth she gave off. The last year had so many firsts for them and sometimes he couldn't believe how happy he was now. Dean looked at Y/N and knew that she was a big part of this and he would do anything to not lose her again.

"He has your eyes." The woman said lovingly.

"And he has your nose." Dean countered with a smile.

"Come on. We should let him sleep as long as he does so calmly and peacefully." Y/N said and turned away from the door again.

Dean did the same. "You're probably right." But his wife couldn't go far before he took her back into his arms. "Actually, I was thinking about something." Dean grinned.

"And what is that?" although Y/N already had an idea.

"I'm sure Connor would like to have a little sister." he wiggled his eyebrows and Y/N laughed. She pressed herself a little tighter against him and looked at him lovingly.

"I'm not sure if it will work that quickly, but we can practice anytime if you want." Now she wiggled her eyebrows and Dean laughed.

"That's sounds like a solid plan to me, sweetheart." Dean agreed and begann to kiss her with all his heart.

A/N: And now we're truly at the end here. I'm a little sad now, tbh. 🥹

It has been such a ride and I wanna thank all of you who have joined me on this. And I want to thank everyone who left me feedback or reblogged my story. I was so overwhelmed with the responses and I felt so blessed. I appreciate you all so much! 💜 And I hope we see us again in february to my new story. 😁

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@thebiggerbear

[katyarn]

I love the way you write can you do Kenma. Kinda toxic Kenma, reader and him had an argument but it’s mainly just him being awful to her. So reader is sad and then he gets worried she’ll do some stuff to herself and then he comforts her yeaaaa emphasis on the him getting worried and guilty part.☺️

sorry this is kinda detailed

ECHOES OF SILENCE

Pairing: Kenma x Reader

Genre: Angst with Comfort

A/N: IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I BROKE MY COMPUTER. also change of writing style I literally physically couldn't go back to my old one LMAO

The door shut behind you with a hollow thud, the kind that echoed through your chest long after the sound had died away. The air inside the apartment felt heavier than usual, weighted down with the aftermath of your latest argument with Kenma. Your hands trembled as you reached for the back of a chair, grounding yourself before your legs gave out entirely.

He’d been harsh tonight. Harsher than ever before.

His words—cold, cutting, and merciless—had pierced through every defense you had built. They circled in your mind like vultures, picking apart the fragile pieces of your heart.

“Why do you always need my attention? It’s suffocating, honestly.”

“It’s not my job to make you feel okay all the time.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so insecure, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you bit down on your lip hard enough to taste copper, refusing to let them fall. You felt small—so unbearably small—and so unbearably alone.

Kenma hadn’t even looked at you when he delivered the final blow, his amber eyes fixed on the glow of his game screen as if you were nothing more than a background noise he could turn off.

And maybe he was right. Maybe you were too much.

The ache in your chest grew sharper, blooming into a storm of hurt that wrapped around your ribs like a vice. You rubbed at your arms, seeking warmth where there was none, your breaths shallow and shaky. The spiral was familiar, dark thoughts gnawing at the edges of your mind, whispering that you weren’t enough, that no one would miss you if you disappeared for a while.

Or for longer.

You blinked slowly, your gaze drifting to the window. The city lights outside twinkled, cold and distant. There was a numbness creeping up your spine, spreading through your limbs until you felt disconnected from yourself, like you were watching someone else exist inside your body.

Kenma leaned back in his gaming chair, the controller still in his hands. The room was quiet now—too quiet. He could hear his own breathing, uneven and shallow. The last thing you’d said before you left replayed in his mind.

“I don’t know what you want from me anymore.”

There was no fire in your voice, no anger. Just sadness. Defeat.

Kenma swallowed hard, his heart thudding unevenly against his ribs. The glow of the screen in front of him felt blinding now, the sound effects grating in his ears. He turned it off with a sharp click, plunging the room into darkness save for the faint light seeping in from the hallway.

Guilt clawed at his throat, a thick, suffocating weight that made it hard to breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut, running a hand through his hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers like sand. He knew he was cruel tonight. He’d known even as the words left his mouth that they were too sharp, too unfair. But he’d been so frustrated, so overwhelmed, that he lashed out the only way he knew how—by pushing away the person who mattered most.

And now you were gone.

What if you didn’t come back?

A cold shiver ran down his spine. What if—

No.

No, he couldn’t think like that.

Kenma stood abruptly, his feet carrying him out of his gaming room before he even registered he was moving. He opened the door to your shared bedroom, half expecting you to be sitting on the bed, waiting for him like you always did after a fight. But the room was empty, and the silence was deafening.

His heart dropped.

You didn’t hear the door creak open behind you. You were too lost in the storm of your own thoughts, too far gone to notice the way Kenma hesitated on the threshold, his eyes wide and full of something you hadn’t seen in him before—fear.

“Y/N.” His voice was soft, barely a whisper, but it cut through the haze in your mind like a blade.

You flinched, your head snapping up to meet his gaze. He looked pale, his hands trembling as they gripped the doorframe.

“What do you want?” Your voice cracked, raw and brittle.

“I…” Kenma swallowed, stepping into the room. “I was worried about you.”

You laughed, a bitter sound that didn’t reach your eyes. “Worried about me? Since when?”

“Don’t say that.” His voice broke, and the sound of it made your heart stutter. “Please… don’t say that.”

You looked away, your shoulders curling in on themselves as if you could shrink away from the weight of his guilt. “You don’t have to pretend to care now. You made it pretty clear where I stand with you.”

“I’m an idiot,” he blurted out, his voice cracking with desperation. “I’m… I’m so stupid, Y/N. I don’t know why I say those things. I don’t mean them—I never mean them.”

“Then why do you keep hurting me?”

Kenma felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t know how to stop. But I want to. I swear I do.”

The silence between you stretched thin, fragile as glass. Kenma took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I thought… I thought I was losing you tonight. And it scared me. It terrified me.”

You blinked, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. “You are losing me, Kenma. Every time you say those things… it chips away at me. And I’m tired of feeling like I’m not enough.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, the words trembling on his lips. “I’m so sorry. I’ll do better. Please… don’t leave. Don’t leave me.”

The vulnerability in his voice broke something inside you, the walls you’d built around your heart crumbling as he reached out to cup your face with trembling hands. His touch was warm, grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself lean into him.

“I’m scared too,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours. “Together.”

And for now, that was enough.

[darksigns-exe]

still alive for you - noah sebastian x bee (ofc)

warnings: a little angst

word count: 1.3k

masterlist | series masterlist | taglist sign-up

Noah’s not there when she wakes up. 

It’s not entirely unusual. 

Noah’s somewhat prone to waking up in the middle of the night. And, either lured from bed by some creative force or held back from sleep by his own mind, he’ll wander to a different part of the house. 

Bee lies in silence for a moment, before she decides to bring him back up here. 

It’s barely three and he needs the rest. 

And really, she wants him back in bed. She always sleeps better when he’s by her side. 

Bee pulls one of Noah’s sweaters on before she steps out into the hallway. 

For once, the house is quiet. They’ve been slaving away at the album, and it’s obvious that they’re all a little worn down. 

She tiptoes past Nick's sleeping form on the sofa. Somehow he manages to look somewhat comfortable. Maybe she’ll drop off one of her extra pillows later, she can’t bear the sight of him sleeping on the throw cushions. 

She doesn’t find Noah in the studio. Usually, he’s there, saving whatever idea had popped into his head before it would disappear forever. Instead, she finds him out in the backyard. 

He doesn’t immediately notice her.

His focus seems to be entirely on a piece of paper. It’s mostly obscured by his hands, but even then, Bee couldn’t decipher a word from this distance even if she tried. 

“Noah?”

His body jolts, obviously caught off guard. The paper slips into the pocket of his sweats, as his head snaps towards her. 

“What’re you doing up?”

Bee makes her way over to him. Her hand drifts through his hair. She still isn’t entirely used to how short it is now. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

His head tips back until he can look at her. 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

She sits down next to him on the lounge chair, and Noah immediately drops his head to her shoulder. 

“Something keeping you up?”

“I don’t know. Just a lot of thoughts.” He mumbles, “I’m worried about the album, you know? It’s different. What if they don’t like it?”

Bee presses a kiss to his temple. 

Seeing him so worried about his breaks her heart a little. Noah has poured so much of himself into this album that her heart aches a little. 

“I’m sure they’ll love it.” Her hand comes to rest just above his knee, “You wanna come back upstairs with me? We can watch another episode of that documentary we started.”

Noah remains silent and Bee figures that he wants quiet first and foremost. 

“Do you want to be alone?” She asks softly. 

He shakes his head, “Stay. Please?”

“I’m just gonna get us a blanket, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Bee presses a final kiss to the top of his head before she slips back into the house. She fetches one of the blankets from the living room. She picks up a bottle of water too, just to be sure. 

When she comes back outside, Noah still seems somewhat lost in his thoughts. She drapes the blanket over his shoulders. Noah looks up at her with soft eyes. 

He pulls the fabric from his shoulders, as he lies back. Bee follows his silent invitation to curl up against him. She arranges herself along his side and Noah waits patiently before he covers them both with the blanket. Her head finds an easy home against his chest and as if rehearsed, Noah’s arm curls around her body. 

Bee feels his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. 

Once in a while, she feels his fingers pulse against her ribs, but other than that, he’s entirely still. 

There’s something unspoken between them, Bee can tell from the hesitant look that has settled onto his face in recent days. She doesn’t know what’s stopping him from saying whatever is on his mind, but she hopes that he’ll eventually find the bravery to say it. 

Bee has to quiet that nagging little voice in the back of her head that keeps trying to tell her that he’s preparing to break-up with her. It’s not fair to him – or to herself. 

She’s never loved anyone more than she loves him, and she’s sure that he feels similar. At least, she hopes so. 

They’ll figure out a way to deal with whatever is worrying him. 

They always do. 

So far, they’ve always managed to figure their problems out. 

She doesn’t like seeing him like this. Sure, he gets quiet sometimes, but this is a different kind of quiet. It’s heavy, almost like the kind of quiet that would linger over him when they met. 

“You’d tell me if something was up, right?” Bee asks quietly. 

Noah stiffens under her, and for a brief moment, she thinks that he’s about to share what is weighing him down. 

“Sure.” he lies, “It’s just the album. It’s a lot to worry about.” 

It does sting a little, and Bee is glad that he can’t see her frown. She’s sure that he has a good reason to keep this to himself. 

“Okay. If there’s something I can do, just tell me. I can write e-mails for you or something.” 

Noah lets out a chuckle, “I might hold you to that. You’re better at business talk than I am.” 

“I know.” 

He pulls her closer against him, and Bee lets her hand wander to the other side of his body.

Bee lets the silence wrap around them for a while. She’s so very content here when he holds her like this. She could spend hours just resting next to him, with not a word exchanged between them. 

Their silence has always been comfortable, and she suddenly finds herself reminded of the night they met. It had been right on this very porch, maybe two years ago now. Their first year had been a right mess, but they’d managed to make up for the time they’d lost. Sometimes Bee wonders where they’d be if they’d been a little bit better at talking about their feelings. But maybe then everything would be so different that it wouldn’t be them anymore. 

“Do you want to get lunch tomorrow?” Noah asks after a while, “I can pick you up after your classes.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” she pokes her foot against his leg, hoping to get a little laugh out of him. 

Thankfully, Noah gives her just that, although it feels awfully stilted. 

She decides that she needs to hear him laugh wholeheartedly then. And before he gets the chance to actually reply to her, she shoves her hand under his shirt. Her fingers find that ticklish spot at his side. It doesn’t make much to get a genuine giggle out of him. Before long, Noah’s hands find their way under her own shirt, in search of retaliation. He’s relentless, and he only stops when Bee almost topples off the lounge chair. 

“Peace?” Noah asks, sounding rather breathless. 

“Peace.” 

Bee shifts herself upwards, moving herself on top of him. She brushes her fingers across his cheek and in return, he gives her a soft smile. 

“I would love lunch.” 

“Good. I’ll pick you up after your classes. Do you want to go somewhere specific?”

“Surprise me?” 

“I can do that.” 

She leans down to place a kiss against his lips. 

“I’m looking forward to it.” 

Noah’s hand comes to rest against the back of her neck to bring her down for another kiss, “Then it’s a date. You wanna head upstairs?” 

Back in bed, Noah wraps himself around her again. Bee shuffles back against him, sighing when his hold on her tightens just a bit more. Exhaustion has once again captured her, and she feels herself drifting off once again. 

Noah presses a kiss to her bare shoulder. 

“I love you so much.” he whispers. 

Bee tangles their fingers together, “I love you.”

She thinks that he looks a little less worried then, a little less as if he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. She’ll keep chipping away at him and when he’s ready, he’ll tell her what’s worrying him. He’s been so very patient with her, so it’s only fair that Bee shows him the same kind of patience. 

She settles against him, comfortable in his hold. 

She’s safe here. 

They’re safe here.

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[joyceyayo]

Stanford & Stanley Pines NSFW alphabet Pt. 1

A/n - there is some freaky shit, you’ve been warned.

A = aftercare (what they like after sex)

Ford: He gets flustered after, often embarrassed of things he said or did in the heat of the moment. But that won’t stop him from wrapping his arms around you and cuddling you to sleep.

Stan: If it’s a one night stand, I think he’s partial to leaving right after. Maybe a pat on the ass to say goodbye. but if be really cares for you hes all about aftercare. You often see him smirking after, cocky and proud of himself. He’ll almost always snap open a Pitt and light a cigarette, holding it to your mouth for a drag if you ask nicely.

B = body part (favorite body part of theirs and their partners)

Ford: He always says his brain, but if you say he’s annoying and cheated, he’ll give you his honest answer. Which is his chin; he never really thought about it until a girl from BMU said he had the perfect mouth and chin to sit on, which had him blushing every time he thought about it for weeks. And yes. All the girls there were that forward. So suffice to say, he got his fair share of pussy there. And he never minded his smile; he liked how you could always tell him and Stanley apart from their smiles. And you can’t disagree with any of this :)

Stan: His arms. When he hit puberty, he barely noticed and honestly disliked the broad shoulders and big arms he was developing a bit. It's just another thing for people to pick on him for. But one day, when he and Ford were next to each other in the mirror, Ford said something about, “How are we genetically identical, yet you’re the one who got dad’s arms?” Ever since, he didn’t seem to mind them.

C = Cum (where they like to cum ofc 😋)

Ford: Inside of you. All day. Every day. Not literally, of course. Or maybe…? He doesn’t know. What he knows is that all day every day, his brain is wracked with thoughts about stressful and dire shit he can’t control one bit… but when he fills you up, it’s like a switch is flipped that turns all of that off, and he’s just with you.

Stan: Tits, ass, face. The man isn’t picky as long as he gets to cum on you while looking right at you.

D = dirty secret (a dirty secret obviously)

Ford: This man steals your fucking panties. Used ones, too. You’ve found the panties you thought went missing accidentally left in his pocket while doing laundry. You playfully scolded him while slapping his arm with them, calling him a dirty old man. But you let up a bit because he was so cute when he got embarrassed about it, turning bright red and chuckling.

Stan: takes Polaroids of you sleeping after sex… he thinks it’s normal enough. He keeps them in his bedside table, and depending on how long you last, you will go for years oblivious to such photos.

E = experience (how experienced are they?)

Ford: experienced enough to make you feel great. I mean, he went to Backupsmore… I feel like they get freaky, but not Ford. Was definitely a virgin until college, but had his fair share of fun when he got there. One time took notes while watching an orgy. He had so many questions… not many were answered.

Stan: very experienced. When he was hopping from state to state trying out his brands, he was also trying out the women; he can't tell you how many times he'd got blown and ridden in the stan mobile... and he didn’t mind it.

F = favorite position (this goes without saying)

Ford: good ol’ fashioned missionary for Fordsy over here. He could give you love bites all down your body in that position for hours and probably will

Stan: doggy. He wants to pull your hair and pull your ass onto him. He’ll never get enough of watching his cock disappear inside of you, and that’s something you’ll just have to come to terms with ;)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Ford: Serious, he’s not thinking enough to joke around. He’s in a primal headspace where even if you made a joke, he’d just groan and shrug it off, getting back to work.

Stan: it depends on the vibe you’re giving off. If he feels like you’re being more playful, he’ll naturally act that way.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Ford hasn’t even thought about it; he’s clean. And yes, absolutely, he’s grey all the way. If you do mention you don’t like his body hair, it will reward you with his most embarrassed and distraught look, but he’ll trim it up without a second thought.

Stan: He knows he has a lot of hair, don’t mention it. Around his 40s, he just stopped fucking caring. He thinks it was the shoulder hair that did him in.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ford: as intimate as you can imagine. He doesn’t just fuck Willy Nilly. He only gets into bed with someone he cares for. So there’s a lot of kissing and sweet talk from him, an ‘I love you’ every 30 seconds if you’ve said that to each other.

Stan: Again, it entirely depends on who he's with. If it’s more of a one-night stand, he’ll get a bit scared off if you’re too romantic. But if you’re together… you’re in for it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Ford: He does it to keep a straight head when he’s alone, without you, but overall, when he’s with you, he feels no need to do all that.

Stan: partook in it a lot when he was on the road, not in a way he ever did before. He did it not to think. But that was before you. When he’s away from you, he finds himself doing it while thinking about you, drifting into a fantasy where you are touching him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Ford: He hates to say it, but breeding. He can’t get enough of the primal feeling of cuming inside of you… and you don’t mind either.

Stan: cuffs. Maybe it’s all the times he’s been in them that it turns him on to be the one putting them on and deciding when they come off. (Of course, if you asked to get out, he’d do it readily)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Ford: He really quite enjoys the routine that may seem mundane to some, such as getting into bed with you each night and making love with you after a long day.

Stan: again, he doesn’t mind fucking in his car; in fact, he loves it. His seats go wayyyy back, too ;)

A/n more coming soon!

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 20

word count: 6.1k

more of a bff chapter!

"Bathroom sex?" Isobel practically shrieked, her eyes wide with delight as she shook Aspen’s shoulders, making her squirm deeper into the mattress.

It had been barely five minutes since Aspen had begun to stir awake, her body still deliciously sore from the previous night’s escapades, when Isobel quite literally pounced on her. The sudden weight pressing down on her and the excited screech in her ear had her groaning into her pillow, face burning before she had even fully processed the words.

Aspen wanted to disappear. "Oh my god, Iz," she whined, voice muffled as she buried her face deeper into her pillow, her heart thudding against her ribs.

Isobel, completely unbothered, leaned closer. "Don't ‘oh my god’ me! You and Harry disappeared for like, an hour, and when you finally came out? He had that smug-ass look on his face, and you—" Isobel dramatically flopped onto her side next to Aspen, propping herself up on one elbow as she smirked down at her friend. "You looked like you had just committed a sin and loved every second of it."

Aspen groaned again, her hands gripping the pillow tighter. She could feel her cheeks burning, and her entire body felt hot with embarrassment. "It wasn’t bathroom s—" she huffed, lifting her face just enough to glare at Isobel before quickly looking away. Even just thinking about that word sent a shiver down her spine. "It wasn’t that, Iz."

Isobel gasped. "Oh, but that’s not what I heard!" she sing-songed, wiggling her eyebrows. "Zayn said Harry looked like he just won the fucking lottery walking out of that bathroom."

Aspen wanted the earth to swallow her whole. "But you weren’t there," she grumbled, reaching for the nearest pillow and gripping it in her small fist before swinging it up and back, landing a satisfying smack against Isobel’s face.

Isobel let out an exaggerated gasp, flopping backward with a dramatic groan before sitting up and narrowing her eyes at Aspen. "So, you’re not denying it," she teased, poking Aspen’s side.

Aspen swatted at her hand, but she was already shifting onto her back with a deep sigh, covering her face with her hands. "It wasn’t—ugh, Iz, I’m not talking about this with you."

"Oh, you so are." Isobel grinned, pulling Aspen’s hands away from her face. "Bestie, I need details. How was it? Was it good? Was he good? I mean, obviously he was, but like—"

Aspen groaned again, rolling onto her side, effectively turning her back to Isobel. But her mind betrayed her, sending flashes of the night before through her thoughts—the way Harry had looked at her, the way he touched her, how gentle he had been even when desire had all but consumed them. It had been good. So good. And she had been the one to initiate it. The thought made her blush all over again.

"Okay, okay," Isobel relented, sensing Aspen’s internal meltdown. "I’ll ease up. But just know, I am so proud of you. Our little Aspen is growing up." She dramatically wiped an invisible tear from her eye.

Aspen rolled her eyes, but a small, shy smile pulled at her lips. "Shut up, Iz."

Isobel only laughed, flopping onto her back beside her. "Never."

Isobel lay next to Aspen with a smug grin, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers while Aspen stayed curled up, her back still facing her. The weight of the night before still lingered in Aspen’s body, in the way her skin felt warm just thinking about it, in the way her stomach twisted at the mere mention of Harry’s name. She wanted to tell Isobel to drop it, to move on, but deep down, she knew better—Isobel was relentless.

A few beats of silence passed before Isobel sighed dramatically, making sure Aspen heard her disappointment loud and clear. "Fine, keep your dirty little secrets," she teased, flopping onto her stomach and propping her chin up in her hands. "But at least tell me this—are you seeing him today?"

Aspen hesitated for a moment before nodding, her fingers gripping the edge of her blanket. "He’s picking me up later," she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Isobel squealed, kicking her feet against the mattress. "Oh my god, Aspen. What if you guys—" she paused, wiggling her brows suggestively. "You know. Again."

Aspen let out a small, exasperated laugh, finally turning onto her back to stare at the ceiling. "Iz, it’s not like that," she murmured, though her mind betrayed her yet again, flashing images of Harry’s hands on her, his lips murmuring praises into her skin.

"Not like that?" Isobel repeated incredulously. "Babe, he’s obsessed with you. And don’t even get me started on you—you look like you just stepped out of one of those romance novels you read, all flushed and dreamy-eyed." She rolled onto her side, nudging Aspen’s arm. "Tell me you at least had fun."

Aspen bit her lip, fighting the shy smile threatening to break free. "I did," she admitted, feeling her cheeks warm again.

Isobel gasped, grabbing Aspen’s hands and squeezing them. "I knew it! And I know you, Aspen—you don’t just do things like this with anyone. This is different, isn’t it?"

Aspen hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly. "Yeah," she breathed, her chest tightening with something she couldn’t quite name. "It is."

Isobel beamed. "I knew it," she repeated, her voice softer this time. "I love this for you. I really do."

Aspen smiled, a genuine, warm smile. "Thanks, Iz."

Isobel squeezed her hands once more before rolling onto her back. "Okay, enough about your hot, broody tattoo artist boyfriend," she teased. "We need to figure out what you’re wearing today. You have to look effortlessly gorgeous but not too obvious. It’s a fine balance."

Aspen laughed, shaking her head. "I swear, sometimes I think you care about this more than I do."

"I absolutely do," Isobel said without missing a beat. "Now, up! We have work to do."

And just like that, Isobel was yanking the blanket off of Aspen, dragging her out of bed with a determined gleam in her eyes.

Aspen had just finished brushing through her hair when her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Seeing Harry’s name on the screen made her stomach flutter as she eagerly picked up the call.

“Hey,” she greeted softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Harry’s voice came through, but something was off. It wasn’t his usual lazy drawl or the teasing warmth he always had when he spoke to her. It was quicker, clipped—like he was in a rush.

Aspen frowned slightly, sitting on the edge of her bed. “Are you on your way?” she asked, already reaching for her shoes.

There was a pause, just a beat too long, before he exhaled sharply. “Actually, uh, that’s why I’m calling,” he admitted. “I have to cancel today.”

Aspen froze, her fingers curling around the laces of her sneakers. “Oh,” she said, trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just—something came up,” Harry said, and though his words were casual, his tone wasn’t. There was an edge to it, something he wasn’t saying.

Aspen didn’t press, not wanting to seem like she was prying. Harry wasn’t the type to cancel plans unless it was important, so she figured whatever it was, he had his reasons. “That’s okay,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “We can just see each other another time.”

Another pause. Then, “Yeah. I’ll text you later, alright?”

“Okay,” Aspen nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Talk later.”

The call ended a second later, leaving Aspen staring at her phone with a small frown. Something about that felt… weird. Harry never sounded like that with her—not rushed, not distant.

Before she could dwell on it too much, Isobel flopped onto the bed beside her. “What’s with the face?” she asked, propping her chin in her hand.

Aspen sighed, tossing her phone onto the comforter. “Harry canceled.”

Isobel’s brows shot up. “Really? That’s unlike him.”

“I know,” Aspen murmured. “But he said something came up.”

“Hmm.” Isobel tilted her head, clearly debating whether to speculate, but then she grinned and nudged Aspen’s arm. “Well, lucky for you, I am always available. So, let’s go out, have some lunch, and make a day of it.”

Aspen smiled despite herself. “You don’t have to do that, Iz.”

“Oh, but I do,” Isobel said dramatically, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I can’t have you moping around all day over your mysterious, broody boyfriend. So, come on, get dressed. We’re going out.”

Aspen laughed, rolling her eyes, but she felt a warmth in her chest at Isobel’s insistence. “Alright, alright,” she relented, standing up.

“Good,” Isobel grinned, hopping off the bed. “Now, let’s find you something cute but casual. We’re going for effortless beauty, obviously.”

Shaking her head fondly, Aspen let Isobel drag her to the closet, grateful to have her best friend to distract her—even if a tiny part of her couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off with Harry.

The restaurant was cozy, filled with the hum of chatter and the occasional clatter of plates. The scent of warm bread and sizzling food filled the air, wrapping Aspen in a comfort she hadn't realized she needed. She and Isobel had snagged a small booth near the window, where the sunlight streamed in just enough to give a soft glow to their table.

Isobel sipped on her iced tea, tapping her nails absentmindedly against the glass as she glanced at Aspen. “Okay, I have to say it,” she started, setting her drink down with a thud. “Zayn has been so good to me lately. I mean, not that he wasn’t before, but I don’t know, there’s just something different now. In a good way.”

Aspen smiled as she idly pushed her straw around in her own drink. “I can tell,” she said warmly. “You’re like… glowing. It’s kind of gross.”

Isobel gasped dramatically. “Excuse you! I prefer to call it the look of a woman who is properly adored.”

Aspen snorted, shaking her head. “Well, whatever it is, I’m happy for you.”

Their food arrived shortly after, and for a few minutes, they were content to eat in comfortable silence—Isobel happily biting into her club sandwich while Aspen worked at her quesadilla, dipping each piece in the small side of salsa.

It wasn’t until halfway through their meal that Isobel brought up the inevitable. “So,” she started, picking at the crust of her sandwich, “are we just… not gonna talk about what happened at the party?”

Aspen stiffened slightly, her fork pausing mid-air before she set it down. “Which part?” she asked, even though she had a feeling she already knew what Isobel was referring to.

Isobel gave her a flat look. “Kirsten.”

Aspen sighed, leaning back in her seat. “I don’t even know where to start with that.”

“Well, let’s start with the fact that she tried to spike your drink,” Isobel said, lowering her voice but still sharp with irritation. “Like, what the actual hell was that about?”

Aspen shook her head, frustration curling in her chest. “I have no idea. I didn’t even notice anything was off until Harry took the drink from me.”

“Of course he noticed,” Isobel muttered. “Because he actually pays attention to you.”

Aspen let out a small sigh. “I just don’t understand why she’d do something like that. I mean, she doesn’t even really know me.”

“Oh, please,” Isobel scoffed, taking another bite of her sandwich before waving her hand. “She knows enough. She knows Harry likes you. And she hates that.”

Aspen frowned, her appetite fading a little. She hated drama, hated being caught in the middle of whatever tension was between Kirsten and Harry. But even more than that, she hated how intentional it all seemed.

“And then,” Isobel continued, setting her sandwich down, “there’s the fact that she was literally standing outside the damn bathroom when you guys came out. Like, that is not normal behavior.”

Aspen groaned, covering her face with her hands. “God, don’t remind me.”

Isobel grinned mischievously. “No, let’s remind you, actually. Because I love that Harry walked out looking smug as hell while you were all shy and flustered but also looking like you just rocked that man’s world.”

Aspen groaned again, her cheeks heating. “Iz!”

“What?” Isobel laughed, holding up her hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying, if she was trying to make you feel insecure or whatever, she failed miserably because you won.”

Aspen peeked at her through her fingers, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not about winning.”

“No, but it is about making sure she knows she can’t mess with you,” Isobel said more seriously, resting her chin in her palm. “You know that, right? She was trying to get under your skin. And honestly, I think she’s gonna keep trying.”

Aspen sighed, picking at the edge of her napkin. “I don’t want this to turn into some weird rivalry thing.”

Isobel huffed. “It already is, Aspen. She’s made it clear that she sees you as some kind of threat.”

Aspen stayed quiet for a moment, mulling over Isobel’s words. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew she was right. Kirsten wasn’t done, and that realization settled like a heavy weight in her stomach.

But then, Isobel reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Hey,” she said softly. “You don’t have to deal with this alone. You’ve got me. And you’ve got Harry, who—by the way—would probably fight God for you if it came down to it.”

Aspen let out a small laugh at that, squeezing Isobel’s hand back. “Thanks, Iz.”

Aspen stayed quiet for a moment, mulling over Isobel’s words. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew she was right. Kirsten wasn’t done, and that realization settled like a heavy weight in her stomach.

Isobel, never one to let silence linger, leaned in slightly. “I mean, I get why she’s bitter. She had her chance with Harry, and she blew it. That’s on her, not you.”

Aspen nodded slowly, tracing the rim of her glass with her finger. “I know that,” she admitted. “And I know Harry is with me now, but…” She hesitated, choosing her next words carefully. “Kirsten is his type.”

Isobel’s brows pulled together. “His type?”

Aspen gave a small, almost self-conscious shrug. “She’s confident. Outgoing. She knows how to work a room. She’s… I don’t know. Bold.”

Isobel rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. That’s not a type, Aspen. That’s a personality disorder.”

Aspen let out a short laugh, but it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Isobel sighed, leaning back in her seat. “Okay, so she might be the kind of girl Harry used to go for. But does that even matter now? He’s with you, Aspen. And I don’t think he’s even looked at another girl since you two got together.”

Aspen bit her lip, staring down at her plate. “It’s just… at the party, when she made that comment about my outfit, I thought it wouldn’t bother me. I wanted to think it wouldn’t. But I kept thinking about it the rest of the night.”

Isobel’s expression softened. “You mean when she said she was ‘surprised’ you wore something like that?”

Aspen nodded. “I felt embarrassed already, you know? I mean, I liked how I looked at first, but then I started thinking… maybe I shouldn’t have worn it. Maybe I was trying too hard to be something I’m not.”

Isobel frowned. “Aspen, stop that. You looked hot that night, and you know it. And for the record, she was threatened by it, that’s why she said that.”

Aspen sighed, pushing her plate away slightly. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t enjoy wearing it as much as I did at first. I felt more self-conscious about it than confident.”

Isobel shook her head, clearly unimpressed with that revelation. “No. Nope. We are not letting Kirsten get into your head like this. She’s already out here acting like a jealous ex when she wasn’t even his ex.”

Aspen gave her a small smile, but the insecurity still lingered. “I just don’t want to be constantly second-guessing things like this. I don’t want to feel like I have to prove I belong with him.”

Isobel softened again, reaching across the table to squeeze Aspen’s hand. “You don’t have to prove anything. Harry chose you. And trust me, Kirsten knows that. That’s why she’s trying so hard to make you feel small.”

Aspen nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Damn right, I’m right,” Isobel said, squeezing her hand once more before letting go. “And you know what? The next time we go out, we’re finding you another outfit that makes you feel amazing—not for anyone else, not to prove a point, just for you.”

Aspen smiled, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “That… actually sounds nice.”

“Good,” Isobel said firmly. “Because I refuse to let Kirsten get away with making you feel anything less than perfect.”

Aspen didn’t say it out loud, but deep down, she knew Isobel was right. Kirsten’s words had gotten under her skin, but at the end of the day, Harry was with her. And that had to count for something.

They continued to eat, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as they worked through their meals. Isobel, as always, was animated as she spoke, her hands moving expressively while she gushed about Zayn.

“He’s been so sweet lately, like... weirdly sweet,” she said, tearing off a piece of her sandwich and popping it into her mouth. “I kind of expected dating Zayn to be this wild, chaotic thing—like constant teasing, a lot of banter, maybe even a little bit of drama—but he’s just…” She trailed off, pressing her lips together, as if struggling to put her feelings into words.

Aspen tilted her head, curious. “Just what?”

Isobel sighed, a small, almost shy smile playing on her lips. “He’s soft with me,” she admitted. “In a way I never thought he could be.”

Aspen smiled warmly, happy for her friend. “That’s because he really likes you,” she said, nudging Isobel’s foot under the table. “And he’s probably terrified of messing it up.”

Isobel grinned, leaning back in her chair. “As he should be.”

Aspen laughed, shaking her head as she took another bite of her quesadilla. The moment was easy, familiar—like every lunch they’d shared together over the years. It was nice, being able to slip into comfort like this, especially after the emotional whirlwind of the party.

But then, the atmosphere shifted. Subtly, but noticeably.

Isobel’s fingers tapped absently against her glass, her gaze dropping for a second before flickering back up to Aspen. There was something cautious in her expression, something careful.

“Hey, um… has Harry ever asked why you don’t drink?”

The question caught Aspen off guard. Her fork hovered midair for a beat before she slowly lowered it back to her plate.

“No,” she admitted after a second. “He hasn’t.”

Isobel nodded, her eyes searching Aspen’s face. “Do you think he’s curious about it?”

Aspen considered the question, chewing her bottom lip. “Maybe,” she said with a small shrug. “But he hasn’t brought it up, so I don’t know.”

There was a slight pause before Isobel spoke again, her voice softer this time. “Do you think you’ll ever tell him?”

Aspen’s fingers curled around her glass, gripping it a little tighter than necessary. The thought of that conversation—of peeling back layers she kept so tightly wrapped around herself—made her stomach twist.

“Not right now,” she said quietly. “It’s… a heavy subject. And I just—I don’t know. I don’t feel like talking about it yet.”

Isobel’s gaze softened, understanding flickering in her eyes. She didn’t push. She didn’t need to. She already knew.

“That’s fair,” she said simply, her voice warm and steady. “You’ll tell him when you’re ready.”

Aspen let out a slow breath, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “When I’m ready.”

And for now, that was enough.

As Isobel reached for another fry, her phone buzzed against the table. She glanced at the screen, her expression shifting as she read the message.

“Zayn just texted,” she said, brows furrowing.

Aspen glanced up from her plate. “Yeah? What’s up?”

Isobel exhaled sharply, tapping the screen. “He said he might not be able to make it tonight. No explanation, nothing. Just might not be able to.”

Aspen tilted her head. “That’s weird… Did he seem off today?”

“No,” Isobel said, setting her phone down. “He was fine earlier. And now, suddenly, he’s vague? It just feels weird.”

Aspen chewed on her lip, a thought forming. “Maybe it has to do with whatever Harry’s doing?”

Isobel’s gaze snapped to her. “You think?”

“I mean…” Aspen shrugged, swirling her straw in her drink. “Harry canceled on me earlier too, and he sounded kind of off.”

Isobel leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Yeah, I know. You should’ve seen your face when you hung up.”

Aspen rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched. “Shut up.”

“No, seriously,” Isobel pressed. “You looked all sad, and now Zayn’s backing out too? That’s sus.”

Aspen sighed, drumming her fingers against her glass. “I guess it is a little weird. Harry did sound rushed, like he didn’t want to be on the phone long.”

“See?” Isobel pointed a fry at her. “They’re up to something.”

Aspen laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Or they just have some kind of plans with their friends. It’s not a big deal.”

Isobel narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know… If they’re sneaking off to go bowling or some dumb boy thing, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Aspen snorted. “Not bowling.”

Isobel huffed. “Whatever it is, they better have a good excuse.”

Aspen smirked, nudging her. “Well, in the meantime, this just means we get an excuse for a girls’ night. No boys, no distractions—just us.”

Isobel’s lips curled into a slow grin. “That means we’re going shopping. And you are trying on that black dress I showed you.”

Aspen groaned. “You’re never letting that go, huh?”

“Nope,” Isobel said smugly. “And you love me for it.”

Aspen rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile. Whatever was going on with Harry and Zayn, she’d let it go for now. Tonight was about her and Isobel—and that was perfectly fine.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The mall was buzzing with its usual weekend energy, the hum of conversations and laughter mixing with the distant sound of pop music playing from store speakers. Aspen and Isobel wandered aimlessly, stopping occasionally to admire store displays or try on a piece of clothing that caught their eye. Despite the cheerful atmosphere, there was an unspoken tension hanging between them, the lack of contact from Harry and Zayn gnawing at the edges of their thoughts.

Aspen ran her fingers over a rack of soft sweaters, her eyes unfocused as her mind wandered. She hadn’t heard from Harry all day, and though she tried to rationalize it—he was probably busy at the shop, caught up with work—it didn’t stop the slight ache of uncertainty in her chest. Was it normal for him to go this long without reaching out? Or was she overthinking things?

“Earth to Aspen,” Isobel’s voice cut through her thoughts, and Aspen looked up to see her friend holding up a pair of sunglasses, striking a dramatic pose. “What do we think? Future pop star or just plain ridiculous?”

Aspen managed a small laugh, shaking her head. “Definitely future pop star. You’ll need a glittery outfit to go with it, though.”

Isobel grinned, setting the sunglasses back on the display. “Glitter it is, then. Come on, let’s find something fun for you to wear. Maybe another showstopper like the outfit from the party?”

At the mention of the party, Aspen’s cheeks heated slightly, her fingers brushing a sweater with a bit more purpose. “I don’t know. That outfit didn’t exactly work out the way you hoped.”

Isobel frowned, pausing in her search. “What do you mean? You looked amazing in it.”

Aspen hesitated, then sighed. “Kirsten’s comment about it just… got to me, I guess. It made me feel like I wasn’t pulling it off the way I thought I was.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Isobel said firmly. “You looked incredible, and you shouldn’t let someone like her make you doubt yourself. She was just being catty because she’s jealous.”

Aspen nodded, though her heart still felt heavy. She appreciated Isobel’s support, but the lingering insecurity was hard to shake. “Thanks, Iz. I’ll try to remember that.”

They moved on to another store, Isobel pulling Aspen toward a rack of brightly colored skirts while keeping up a steady stream of chatter. Aspen let herself get swept up in her friend’s enthusiasm, even managing to smile as Isobel held up various outfits against her and critiqued them with exaggerated seriousness.

Still, the silence from Harry lingered in the back of her mind. As much as she tried to push it away, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing. Was he really at the shop, or was there something else going on? She shook her head slightly, forcing herself to focus on Isobel.

“So,” Isobel said as they left the store with a bag of new finds, “still no word from Harry?”

“Nope,” Aspen said, glancing at her phone as if it would magically light up with a message. “I’m sure they’re just busy. Probably at the shop or something.”

Isobel hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe. It’s just… weird, you know? Zayn usually texts me back, even if it’s just a quick ‘I’m busy.’”

Aspen shrugged, though she couldn’t deny the flicker of agreement in her gut. “They’ve got a lot going on, I guess.” She didn't want to be overbearing, Harry didn't owe her an explanation to his schedule every minute of every day.

“Maybe,” Isobel said again, though her tone was skeptical. “I don’t know, Aspen. Do you ever get the feeling they’re hiding something?”

Aspen froze for half a second before forcing a laugh. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing serious,” Isobel said quickly, waving a hand. “I’m probably overthinking. I just feel like they disappear sometimes, you know? Like they’re not telling us everything.”

Aspen bit her lip, unsure how to respond. The thought had crossed her mind before, but she’d always brushed it off. Harry and Zayn had their own lives, their own responsibilities. It wasn’t like they owed her every detail of their day.

Still, the unease in Isobel’s voice planted a seed of doubt she couldn’t ignore.

Aspen exhaled softly, rolling her shoulders as if physically shrugging off the lingering doubt Isobel had unintentionally stirred. She didn’t want to let paranoia creep in, didn’t want to be the kind of girlfriend who overanalyzed everything. Harry had never given her a reason not to trust him. If anything, he was the opposite of secretive.

“I don’t think it’s that deep,” Aspen said after a moment, glancing at Isobel. “Harry doesn’t hide things from me.”

Isobel gave her a skeptical look, crossing her arms. “Really? Because right now, it kind of seems like he is.”

Aspen shook her head, pressing her lips together in a thoughtful frown. “I know his phone passcode. He’s literally told me all his passwords, not that I’ve ever used them. He’s never been weird about me touching his phone, and he even offered me a key to the shop since he sometimes stays late. If he was keeping some big secret, would he really be that open?”

Isobel’s expression softened a little as she considered Aspen’s words. “I mean… when you put it that way, I guess not.”

Aspen nodded, latching onto that reasoning. “Exactly. He’s probably just caught up with work. Maybe something last-minute came up with a client, or Zayn needed help with something.”

Isobel sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I get it, I do. I just—ugh, maybe I’m overthinking it because Zayn isn’t answering me either. He’s usually not like that.”

Aspen nudged her playfully. “So, you’re the one overthinking now?”

Isobel groaned dramatically. “Okay, okay, fine! I’ll drop it. But if it turns out they were doing something stupid and secretive, I get full ‘I told you so’ rights.”

Aspen laughed, shaking her head. “Deal.”

They continued walking, passing by a row of small kiosks selling handmade jewelry and custom keychains. Aspen slowed her steps as they reached a display of delicate silver rings, her fingers trailing over one with a small crescent moon engraved on it. She debated for a second before picking it up, testing how it looked on her finger.

“You should get it,” Isobel said, watching her.

Aspen twisted the ring around her finger, considering. “Maybe… I just like little things like this. Harry has a few rings he never takes off, and I guess I think it’d be kind of cute to have one of my own.”

Isobel smirked, leaning in. “You’re totally soft for him.”

Aspen rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. “Whatever. It’s just a ring.”

“Sure, sure,” Isobel teased, nudging her toward the counter. “Buy it before I do it for you.”

Aspen huffed but pulled out her wallet, deciding she might as well. She handed the ring to the clerk, and within moments, it was hers. Sliding it onto her finger, she couldn’t help but smile a little. It was simple, nothing flashy, but it felt… nice. Like something to keep with her, even when Harry wasn’t around.

They spent another hour or so browsing, stepping into different stores, and making each other try on ridiculous outfits just for laughs. For a while, Aspen was able to push aside the nagging thoughts, allowing herself to just enjoy the time with Isobel.

Still, as they walked out of yet another shop and Aspen glanced down at her phone, seeing no new messages, the quiet little voice in her mind whispered again.

She trusted Harry. She did.

Aspen was mid-bite into a pretzel when her phone finally vibrated in her pocket. She barely noticed it at first, too focused on the cinnamon sugar coating her fingertips, but when she absently pulled her phone out to check, her heart did a little flip at the name on the screen.

Harry 🤍: Hey, sugar.

It was short, simple, barely anything at all—but it was enough. She had changed his star to a heart just a bit ago, figured it suited him more.

A smug grin immediately spread across Aspen’s face as she turned the screen toward Isobel, wiggling it in her direction. “See? Told you. No big deal.”

Isobel scoffed, narrowing her eyes at the message. “That’s it? That’s all he said? Not even an ‘I’m sorry for canceling on you’ or an explanation?”

Aspen rolled her eyes, stuffing her phone back into her pocket. “It doesn’t matter. He texted. He’s fine, they’re fine. You were just being paranoid.”

“I was not being paranoid,” Isobel shot back. “I was being observant. And you were also freaking!”

Aspen snorted. “Uh-huh, sure. Well, observant or not, looks like I was right. No weird secret meetings, no trouble—just busy.” She popped another bite of pretzel into her mouth, savoring her small victory.

Isobel sighed, throwing her hands up. “Fine. I guess you win this round.”

Aspen grinned. “I always win.”

They continued walking through the mall, Aspen’s mood lighter now that she had proof Harry was still thinking about her. Sure, it wasn’t much of a message, but it was something, and knowing he took the time to text her, even if he was busy, reassured her. He always made her happy, and she knew he'd keep it that way.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Aspen lay back against her pillows, her room cast in a dim, golden glow from the small bedside lamp she had yet to turn off. The quiet hum of the night surrounded her, the only sounds being the distant ticking of the clock on her wall and the occasional creak of the house settling. It was late—later than she intended to stay up—but the lingering weight in her chest wouldn’t let her rest. Isobel had already retreated to her own room, the soft click of her door closing hours ago leaving Aspen alone with her thoughts.

She sighed, her fingers curling around her phone as she stared at the screen, hesitating for just a second before pressing the call button. It wasn’t like she needed to hear his voice to sleep—but maybe she did.

The phone rang twice, each tone stretching out in the silence of her room. Then, finally, the line clicked, and his voice filled her ear, rough and low, like she might have woken him up.

“Hey, baby.”

Aspen let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her lips curling into a small smile at the familiar endearment. There was something about the way he said it, the way his voice softened just slightly when he spoke to her, that made her stomach warm.

“Hey,” she whispered, shifting to her side, tucking her free hand beneath her cheek. The warmth of her blankets wrapped around her, but it wasn’t quite enough—not when she was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that she was here, in bed alone, and Harry was not.

She could hear the faint rustling on his end, the sound of fabric shifting. “Did I wake you?”

A soft chuckle. “Nah, I wasn’t really asleep.”

She frowned slightly. “You should be. It’s late.”

“You’re still up,” he pointed out, amusement laced in his voice.

She bit her lip, pressing her face slightly into the pillow. “Yeah, well… I just wanted to hear your voice before bed.”

A beat of silence followed, but she could hear the small inhale Harry took on the other end, like he wasn’t expecting that. Like maybe he wasn’t used to someone admitting that so easily.

“Yeah?”

Aspen nodded, even though he couldn’t see. “Yeah.”

Harry let out a low hum, and something about it sent a small shiver down her spine, the deep vibration of his voice settling somewhere deep inside her chest. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward, wasn’t empty. It was comforting, like a soft blanket wrapped around them both, holding them close despite the distance.

After a few more moments, she finally asked, “What were you up to today?”

Harry exhaled, shifting again. “Shop was slammed,” he said, voice casual but slightly tired. “Had a few last-minute walk-ins, and Zayn needed me to help out with some designs. Barely got a chance to sit down.”

Aspen’s brows lifted slightly. “Oh, wow. That busy?”

“Yeah. One of the guys booked a huge piece last minute, and it took forever,” he explained. “Didn’t wanna leave Z on his own with all that, so I stuck around. It was one of those clients that just demand, and demand, and demand. Couldn't catch'a break, doll.”

She nodded to herself, processing his words. That made sense. Harry had told her before how the shop could get chaotic, especially on nights when people randomly decided they wanted a tattoo. It sounded like a normal, reasonable explanation, but still, something about the way he spoke—the slight edge in his tone, the careful way he phrased things—made something prickle in the back of her mind. 

But she didn’t let it settle. She wasn’t going to be the kind of person who overthought everything. She trusted him. The girl had just been on edge the whole day, and texting him earlier after she left the mall settled her more as well.

“Well,” she murmured, rolling onto her back and tucking the blankets up higher. “I’m glad you guys were able to handle it, but… next time, just—just give me a heads-up? You don’t have to tell me every little thing, I just… I worried a little today.”

Another pause, then a sigh from the other end of the line. “Yeah, I get it,” Harry said, his voice a little softer now. “Didn’t mean t'leave you hanging like that, angel. Won’t happen again. 'M sorry.”

Aspen’s heart warmed at his reassurance, the tension in her chest loosening. She never wanted to be the kind of girlfriend who needed constant check-ins, but it felt nice to know he understood, to know that he wasn’t dismissing how she felt.

“Okay,” she whispered, smiling slightly.

There was another beat of silence, and then his voice dropped lower, quieter.

“You in bed?”

Aspen’s face warmed instantly, even though it was a simple question. “Mmhm,” she hummed, tucking herself further into the blankets. “Just got comfy.”

“Good,” he murmured. “Wish I was there.”

Heat crawled up her neck, her stomach fluttering at the way he said it—low, easy, like it was something he’d been thinking about for a while. She buried her face into the pillow, embarrassed at how much it affected her.

“Harry,” she whined softly, her voice muffled.

“What?” he chuckled. “Just saying. You’re warm, and I like warm. M'feet are getting cold without your little ones to warm them up.”

She bit her lip, shaking her head at how ridiculous he was, but her heart squeezed all the same.

“Go to sleep,” she muttered.

“You first.”

Aspen rolled her eyes, smiling. “I called you first, so technically, you should sleep first.”

Harry huffed, amused. “Fine. But only ‘cause I’m tired. I'll come get you t'morrow, yeah?”

Aspen giggled. “Yes, please." A warm smile spread across her pink lips, her eyes fluttering shut. "Goodnight, Harry.”

“Night, sugar.”

Neither of them hung up. They just stayed like that, the quiet stretching between them, both unwilling to break the connection just yet. Eventually, their breathing evened out, the sound lulling them both into something close to sleep.

And even though Harry wasn’t there beside her, Aspen felt warm anyway.

[bradshawsvinyl]

How Frank Castle and Girly!Reader Met

girly!reader masterlist here.

You were seated at a corner table in your favorite neighborhood cafe, sipping a latte from a pink cup with swirls of delicate foam art, your pastel journal open as you sketched designs for your boutique’s upcoming summer collection. The soft patter of the raindrops outside created a cozy ambiance, making it the perfect backdrop to focus on your work.

Your world is all about soft colors, florals and elegance—very different from the dark, handsome, rugged man who walked in, scanning the room with sharp and calculating eyes.

Frank Castle wasn’t there for coffee. He was tailing someone as part of an ongoing mission, but the aroma of fresh pastries and coffee drew him into the small cafe. When he walked in, his eyes immediately landed on you. Your delicate nature made you stand out in his seemingly dark world.

Approaching the counter, Frank ordered a coffee. While reaching in his pocket to pay, the barista informed him that they didn’t accept cash. He instinctively turned to leave not wanting to waste any more time.

“Wait,” a soft voice called out, immediately catching his attention. From the corner of his eye, he saw you stand up with a polite smile on your face.

“I’ve got it,” you said while pulling out your card. As you paid, you glanced at him with a warmth that felt foreign. “Consider it a little kindness on this rainy day,” you added gently.

“Thank you,” he replied politely while taking the cup of coffee from the barista and walking out of the cafe.

After that first encounter, Frank would occasionally stop by the cafe, though he never admitted he was there to see you. He’d sit at a table near yours, sipping on black coffee and observing the world while you scribbled away in your journal.

On one particularly slow afternoon, you decided to strike up a conversation. You told him about your boutique and your passion for designing clothes that made people feel comfortable in their skin. You noticed he didn’t seem to talk much, but he always listened.

Frank wasn’t used to softness but something about your optimism and passion struck a chord with him. You chose to face the world's horrors with kindness—a stark contrast to how he operated.

One evening, as the cafe was closing, you found yourself locking up your clothing boutique nearby. The streets were quiet and plagued with an eerie silence. As you turned to leave, you noticed a group of men lingering in the shadows, their gaze fixed on you.

Your heart raced as they approached, their intentions unclear. Before you could react, you heard a familiar voice echo through the air.

“She’s with me.” Frank said, emerging from the darkness. The men hesitated, glancing at each other nervously before retreating without a word. You stood frozen, your breath hitching as Frank turned to you.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice steady and laced with concern.

You nodded. “I didn’t know you were nearby,” you said timidly.

“I like to keep an eye on things,” he replied, his gaze softening.

That night, he walked you home, the silence between you comfortable. As you reached your door, you turned to him. “Thank you, Frank,” you said near tears. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had been alone.”

He nodded, his eyes lingering on yours. “Just stay safe,” he said, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

From that day on, Frank’s presence in your life became a constant. To Frank, you were a reminder of the love and humanity he thought he’d lost. To you, Frank became a steady source of love and strength you hadn’t realized you needed.

a/n:AHHH THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE! pls send requests for this universe i love frank so much. thanks for reading!

[majoryeager104]

Crush!

Part 1 | Part 2

In the context of this hc post

Dabi x gn!reader!

enjoyyyyy

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”you know…twice told me something real interesting earlier”

Dabi watched with a smile as you reacted- a quick pause, and you glanced away for a moment- the only confirmation that he needed that what Twice said had been true.

“and what’s that?”

you asked quietly, glancing back at him with a tilt of your head. You spoke quietly, and yet he could still hear your voice over the sound of the roaring flames next to you, he could hear the nervousness in your tone.

“he said you had feelings for me”

he spoke slyly, and in the flickering blue light he could see your eyes widen, ever so slightly, before quickly your face returned to I rested expression. Far quicker than he’d anticipated, actually.

“sounds like something he’d say”

you said dismissively, lying away the statement, although mentally you were taking note to talk to twice later, and by talk you meant flick his nose as you usually did when you were upset with him. You could never stay mad with the guy for long.

at your dismissiveness, Dabi couldn’t help but pause. He’d been so certain that what Twice had said was true, but your reactions could mean anything. He found himself feeling…sad. Why? It was a good thing that you weren’t harboring feelings wasn’t it? It meant he didn’t have to be awkward around you anymore, and yet…

“I should head back, I promised Himiko I’d watch some rom-com with her later”

“oh yeah? Which one?”

“10 things I hate about you.. she said I’d like it, so I’ll trust her judgement” (my fave istg it’s too good 👌)

“sounds fun. See you later then”

and with that, he watched you leave, waiting till you turned the corner before he kicked some debris on the ground. He stared at the roaring flames for a long while as he thought about what had happened.

Maybe twice had just been messing with him, or talking nonsense. But why would Twice say that if you didn’t actually like him? Was there something missing? Had Twice misread you? No, he’s always good with people, that can’t be it. There had to have been something about you that Twice had spotted if you hadn’t told him, or- or something about Dabi.

Now it was Dabi’s turn to widen his eyes as it hit him like a ton of bricks. Oh shit. He liked you.

All those hours he hung around the hideout waiting and keeping tabs on you, making sure you came back on time, watching your back during missions, looking forward to your check ins whenever he hadn’t seen you, all your wide eyed smiles when you spotted him, and how you always made him feel comfortable and secure even in the biggest of crowds. Maybe Twice had realized that Dabi loved you.

Now, after the realization had hit him, he definitely couldn’t act normal around you.

He found his eyes landing on you way too often, his gaze darting to you at random hours of the day in hopes you were looking back. He found himself more worried about you when you were gone, always checking his phone for your message. Shit, he found himself asking the others about you multiple times a day like a worried parent. He found himself feeling so enamored, so enraptured, and so, so pathetic.

You had begun to notice his glances and worsened worries, but didn’t pay it any mind. I suppose you didn’t realize his feelings now just as he didn’t realize your feelings before. Ironic, but love often is.

so, when inevitably you found yourself glancing at him as per usual, and caught him staring back, needless to say you were perplexed.

It was driving him crazy. The whole thing. You were so oblivious it could kill him on the spot. Was this how you’d felt? No, Twice had lied, there was no way someone like you could love a guy like him…was there?

Eventually, his pining got to the point where he couldn’t be around you. Once again you found he often disappeared when you had just arrived. To you, it seemed like he was upset, and that had you worried, and so, you asked the two other league members present, Twice and Shigaraki, (ofc lmao) what had been going on.

“Dabi? Upset? He always is.”

Shigaraki said bluntly. Twice shrugged, before piping up. “Yeah, last time he disappeared like this, it was after I told him you liked him- OW!”

Twice rubbed his nose after you flicked it, his pout evident through his mask. But he got you wondering what it could mean. Maybe he was still embarrassed about finding out. He’d not brought it up since, but now-

A message beeped on your phone. Speak of the devil, it was from Dabi.

‘hey. Can we talk?’

you quickly responded

‘yeah, in person?’

‘Warehouse off the highway.’

You said your goodbyes to the other two before leaving. You knew exactly where he meant, It hadn’t been the first time you’d been there, considering you just watched him burn it down a few days before.

You arrived quicker than he’d expected, you saw him absently kicking through the ashy rubble that remained after the city cleaned up most of the mess. “Hey” you called out, and he almost jumped at the sound of you, turning around with wide eyes to look at you before he relaxed once more. “Jeez, y/n, you tryin ta kill me?” he chuckled, hands in his pockets as he walked up to you. You could help but laugh “sorry about that”

once he reached you, his face got rather serious. It worried you for a moment, till he finally spoke “about what Twice said the other day…”

here it goes. He’s gonna turn you down and tell you how dumb you’d be to fall for a guy like him. He’s gonna tell you he never thought of you that way and that you should drop it, that he-

“I feel the same”

he said it so quickly and quietly that you couldnt help but pause to process, blinking up at him. What you saw when you looked at his face would shock anyone. A blush. Creeping across his face, under the scars and staples and piercings, he was blushing. And he was blushing a lot.

He felt dumb for telling you. He actually hadn’t intended to- his goal was to pry your feelings out of you, but he’d blurted his confession without a second thought.

You felt dumb for staring so long. Everything was so quiet around the two of you, except for the quiet sound of his breath and yours. But inside your head you were feeling.

“really?”

you spoke quietly, your own face red with blush now. He nodded sheepishly, resorting to looking anywhere but your eyes. You stayed quiet for a moment as he looked back up at you.

“please tell me that ass wasn’t joking”

Dabi said, nervously laughing as his face got even redder. At this, you couldn’t help but smile and laugh, shaking your head. “No, he wasn’t. I like you too, Dabi”

He stared for a moment, the most soft, happy smile you’d ever seen plastered on his face, like a kid who just got exactly what he’d wished for for Christmas. It was cute. But then, the smile faltered

“great” he spoke sheepishly, shoving his hands even further into his pockets as you too looked away in embarrassment.

“It’s not always gonna be this awkward right?”

you laughed, shaking your head “no, it’ll get easier, I think” you blushed, and he smiled back at you, stepping a bit closer. He looked like he wanted to lean in, but stopped himself, instead ruffling your hair. “Good…we should probably get back” he said quietly, tilting his head. You nodded, smiling back.

“…yeah!”

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I love shy Touya so much I can’t even explain it

[hazzashouse]

The Space Between Us (Harry Styles series)

You voted for chapter three of The Space Between Us - so here we go! ✨

Triggers: Subtle angst.

Pairing: Harry Styles x Sophie Pearson

Word Count: 3,712 Words

As always, thank you for your support!

tag list: @lizsogolden @fangirl509east @sassamanda77 @wheredidmyeyesgo @triski73 @hopeyoustaythenight

If anyone would like to be added to the tag list - lemme know in the comments 🩷

CHAPTER ONE: HERE

CHAPTER TWO: HERE

Chapter three: Crossing the Line

Sophie stood at the kitchen counter, absentmindedly arranging and rearranging the hors d’oeuvres. It was a task she’d already completed twice, but she needed something—anything—to keep her hands busy.

Her encounter with Harry had left her rattled. Seeing him after all these years, hearing his voice, being so close she could catch the faint scent of his cologne—it had dredged up feelings she thought she’d buried long ago.

She leaned against the counter, taking a deep breath.

“It’s fine,” she whispered to herself. “You’re fine. Just focus on the wedding.”

But her pep talk was cut short when her brother Anthony appeared in the doorway, looking slightly frazzled.

“Sophie!” he called, startling her.

“What?” she snapped, turning to face him.

Anthony held up a roll of ribbon. “We’re short on this for the chairs. Can you handle it?”

“Sure,” she said, grabbing the ribbon.

“And one more thing,” Anthony added, rubbing the back of his neck. “Harry’s supposed to help with the table settings, but he doesn’t know what’s what. Can you explain it to him?”

Sophie froze. “What?”

“You’re the only one who knows the layout,” Anthony said, completely oblivious to her hesitation. “Just go over it with him, yeah?”

“Anthony—”

“Please, Soph,” he interrupted, giving her a pleading look. “I need to go check on something else, and I’m running out of time.”

Before Sophie could argue, Anthony disappeared, leaving her alone in the kitchen.

Sophie found Harry in the dining room, standing awkwardly by the long table that had been set up for the reception. He had rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, revealing the tattoos on his forearms, and was holding a small stack of plates.

He looked up as she entered, his expression shifting from curiosity to something softer.

“Hey,” he said.

Sophie forced a smile. “Hi.”

Anthony’s request echoed in her mind, and she sighed, stepping closer. “I hear you need some help.”

Harry chuckled, setting the plates down. “Apparently, I’m terrible at table settings. Thought I’d be better at it, considering how many fancy dinners I’ve been to.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “How are you bad at this?”

“Do you want the long list of reasons or just the highlights?” he teased, his dimples making an appearance.

Despite herself, Sophie felt a small smile tug at her lips. “All right, let’s get this over with.”

She moved to the table, explaining the arrangement in a brisk, professional tone. Harry listened intently, nodding along and occasionally asking a question.

“Got it,” he said after a while, picking up a napkin and folding it into a neat triangle.

Sophie arched an eyebrow. “Not bad.”

“See? I’m not completely hopeless,” he said, grinning.

As they worked side by side, the silence grew heavier. Sophie could feel Harry glancing at her occasionally, but she refused to meet his gaze.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“Sophie,” he said softly.

She paused, her hands stilling on a stack of cutlery. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice earnest.

She frowned, turning to look at him. “For what?”

“For everything,” he said. “For leaving. For not staying in touch. For… all of it.”

Sophie’s chest tightened. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I know I let you down,” Harry continued, his green eyes filled with regret. “And I hate that. You meant so much to me, and I just—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair.

“Harry,” Sophie said, her voice quieter than she intended. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “I’ve been carrying this guilt for years. I need you to know that I didn’t forget about you. I couldn’t. You were always there, in the back of my mind.”

Sophie stared at him, her heart pounding. She wanted to believe him, but the hurt from their past still lingered.

“It’s not that simple,” she said finally, her voice trembling. “You can’t just say sorry and expect everything to go back to the way it was.”

“I know,” Harry said, his gaze steady. “But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

Before Sophie could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. Lizzie appeared in the doorway, her eyes flicking between them with barely concealed curiosity.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t sorry at all. “Anthony needs you both outside. Something about the seating arrangements.”

Harry stepped back, giving Sophie a small, almost apologetic smile.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice gentle.

Sophie nodded, following him out of the room.

As they stepped into the crisp afternoon air, Sophie couldn’t shake the feeling that this day was far from over. Her emotions were a tangled mess, and Harry’s presence only made it harder to keep everything in check.

And when Harry glanced at her, his expression filled with something she couldn’t quite name, Sophie knew one thing for sure:

This wasn’t the end of their story.

It was only the beginning.

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