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moonlitstoriess · 21 hours ago

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I have a request if it's possible. Could you write a fanfic or a oneshot about Azriel and the reader being a ballerina and also a shadow singer

When Shadows Waltz- Azriel x fem!reader (oneshot)

Summary: Y/N, a ballerina and Shadowsinger, has spent her life balancing grace and darkness. But when whispers of doubt and cruel words make her question her place, she hides her insecurities from Azriel, not wanting to burden him. Yet, he sees everything—and he won’t let her fall. With patience, love, and a bit of humor, he helps her realize that her shadows don’t ruin her dance—they make it unforgettable.

See masterlist

Warnings: angst, fluff in the end, protective az🤭, mentions of insecurities, some bullying

A/N: Thank you for the request! I didn’t know if you wanted angst or fluff so I incorporated both, hope you enjoy it🥰

The mirrors in the studio reflected everything. Every movement, every misstep. Every flaw.

Y/N stood at the center of the room, her pointe shoes silent against the polished floor. The dim glow of the chandeliers cast long shadows, and hers twisted unnaturally, curling and flickering like smoke. No matter how hard she tried to suppress them, they never truly left her alone.

She exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders back. Focus.

With practiced precision, she lifted onto pointe, extending her arms in a graceful arc. The motion should have felt effortless, but something was off. Her balance wavered, the weight of unseen eyes pressing against her skin. Not good enough. Not perfect.

Her foot barely faltered, but the mistake rang loud in her mind.

She could still hear the whispers from earlier that day.

“A Shadowsinger dancing ballet? It looks unnatural.”

“She doesn’t belong in a world of elegance.”

“No wonder they only talk about her being Azriel’s mate—what else is she known for?”

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her practice dress. She hated how easily those words found cracks in her armor, how they settled like poison in the back of her mind.

They didn’t matter. They shouldn’t matter.

But they did.

A quiet knock at the door startled her, and before she could gather herself, the very person she didn’t want to see her like this stepped inside.

Azriel.

His shadows slithered in behind him, merging with hers so seamlessly it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. His piercing hazel eyes took her in—her stiff posture, the tension in her hands, the exhaustion she hadn’t even realized was etched into her face.

She tried to smile. “Hey.”

Azriel didn’t return it. He simply tilted his head, studying her with that sharp, all-seeing gaze. Then, softly—so softly it made her chest ache—he asked,

“What’s wrong?”

Y/N forced a small smile, hoping it would be enough to make him drop the subject. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Azriel didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His stare remained steady, unreadable—but she knew better.

He always saw through her.

A slow tilt of his head. “Try again.”

She sighed, crossing her arms. “How can you even tell something’s wrong? You just got here.”

His lips quirked slightly, but the look he gave her was pure come on now. “You’ve been my mate for nearly a year, love. You really think I don’t notice?”

The warmth in his voice curled around her like a soft ribbon, and despite herself, her heart gave a little flutter. Cauldron save me.

It was so stupid—the way he could unravel her with just a few words, how easily his presence melted through her walls. Even now, with his scarred hands tucked into his pockets and his wings resting at his back, he radiated quiet strength. Calm. Steady. Hers.

And yet—

She still couldn’t bring herself to tell him.

So she smiled a little wider, making sure it reached her eyes this time. “I’m fine, really.”

Azriel didn’t believe her. She could tell by the way his shadows curled around his boots, restless. But she wasn’t giving him the chance to push further.

Before he could open his mouth again, she smoothly changed the subject. “I have my audition tomorrow.”

That worked. His head straightened slightly, some of the tension in his shoulders easing. “For the seasonal performance?”

She nodded, feeling something close to excitement creep past her unease. “It’s a huge opportunity, Az. If I get the role, I’ll be one of the principal dancers for the entire winter season. The main performance is the biggest of the year—leaders from all over the place will come to watch. I need to represent our court in the best way possible.” She hesitated, then admitted, “Your family will be there.”

Azriel’s expression softened. “And you want to impress them.”

“I need to impress them.”

His brows pulled together slightly, but before he could argue, she rushed on. “Feyre is an artist, Nesta trained with Cassian and is basically a Valkyrie now—everyone in your family has accomplished something incredible. I want to prove I belong.”

Azriel stepped closer, lifting a hand to cup her jaw. His touch was featherlight, reverent. “You already impress them, Y/N.”

Her breath caught as he leaned in, brushing the softest kiss against her lips. “You’re more than enough.”

The words should have settled in her chest like a soothing balm. But instead, the weight of her insecurities pressed heavier.

She managed a small smile, even as she whispered, “I still want to get the role.”

Azriel exhaled, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “You will.” His voice was quiet, certain. “Trust me, you will.”

And for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe him.

Y/N let herself sink into the warmth of Azriel’s touch for just a moment before pulling away, forcing herself to focus. “I just need everything to go right,” she murmured, mostly to herself.

Azriel tilted his head slightly. “It will.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You sound so sure.”

His lips curved, but his eyes held nothing but certainty. “Because I am.”

Cauldron, how was it so easy for him? To have that unwavering belief in her, even when she wasn’t sure she believed in herself?

Azriel reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers, his grip firm yet gentle. “Come,” he said, leading her toward the small bench by the wall. “Sit with me for a bit.”

She sighed but followed, letting him tug her down beside him. He didn’t say anything at first, just ran his thumb in slow circles over her knuckles. The silence was comfortable, but she knew he was waiting—for her to speak, to confess what was really on her mind.

And she wanted to. She really did.

But the words refused to form, stuck somewhere between pride and fear. If she said them out loud, if she told him about the whispers, the doubt clawing at her chest, then it would make it real.

So instead, she leaned her head against his shoulder and whispered, “I just hope I don’t mess it up.”

Azriel’s wings shifted slightly, his shadows curling around them both like a protective cocoon. “You won’t.”

She sighed, not bothering to argue. He’d just contradict her again with that quiet, unshakable confidence.

After a moment, he spoke again, his voice softer this time. “Do you want me to come watch?”

The question made her heart lurch. “You—you’d come to the audition?”

He turned his head, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair. “Of course.”

Something in her chest squeezed painfully, caught between joy and hesitation. “You don’t have to.”

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh. “I want to.” Then, as if sensing her uncertainty, he added, “But only if you want me there.”

She did. She really did. But—

Y/N swallowed. “I think I’ll be too nervous if you watch.”

Azriel didn’t seem offended. If anything, amusement flickered across his face. “You dance in front of hundreds of fae, but I make you nervous?”

She groaned, shoving his arm. “Don’t say it like that.”

He chuckled, pulling her closer. “Fine. I won’t watch. But I’ll be waiting outside.”

Y/N lifted her head, meeting his gaze. “Really?”

Azriel nodded. “Really.” Then, smirking, he added, “Unless you change your mind and want me front and center.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “I think I’ll survive without that pressure, thanks.”

Azriel just hummed, clearly unconvinced. But he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned in, brushing his lips over her cheek, his voice a murmur against her skin. “You’re going to be incredible.”

Y/N closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth of him, the quiet reassurance in his touch.

She wanted to believe him.

But deep down, that familiar doubt still lingered, whispering that maybe, just maybe—

She wasn’t enough.

The sun had barely risen, but Y/N had been awake for hours.

The studio floor had long since warmed beneath her relentless movements. Every turn, every extension, every landing had been drilled into perfection—had to be perfect. She refused to stop.

Azriel had been the one to come and go, appearing like clockwork with food in hand, a quiet reminder in his eyes. “Eat,” he’d say. “Sit for a moment.”

She’d obey, just for a second. Just long enough to take a sip of water, a bite of fruit. But her feet would pull her back onto the floor before she even realized it. Again and again.

At first, Azriel had tried. Tried to coax her into resting, tried to make her breathe. He’d leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching as she pushed herself past exhaustion. A few times, he’d even taken her hand, pulled her to him, murmured against her ear, “Enough for now.”

She never listened.

Eventually, he had sighed, shaking his head as he stepped in front of her. She barely had a moment to react before his lips found hers—a slow, lingering kiss, warm and full of something dangerous. Something that made her knees weaken more than all the training ever could.

When he pulled back, his eyes were softer, but his voice was firm. “Food is packed for you to take in.” He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I have some things to take care of, but I’ll be there when you come out of the audition.”

Y/N blinked up at him, caught between nerves and something unbearably sweet. “Promise?”

Azriel exhaled, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “You think anything could keep me away?”

Her heart stuttered, warmth spreading in her chest.

Then, with one last glance—one that said please, don’t run yourself into the ground—he left.

Silence settled over the room, broken only by her own breath.

Two hours later, she was sitting on the floor, hair damp and body strained as she stared into her reflection.

An hour later, the auditions would begin.

That realization sent a fresh wave of nerves crashing over her. With a deep inhale, she shook it off, forcing herself to move.

She needed to clean up, get dressed. She needed to leave.

She grabbed the food Azriel had packed, tucked it under her arm, and stepped out the door.

It was time.

Velaris was bathed in afternoon light, the streets alive with warmth and chatter. But Y/N barely noticed any of it.

Her steps were steady, precise, each movement measured like a dancer counting beats in her head. But inside? Her heart pounded, a nervous rhythm she couldn’t quite shake.

She had walked these streets a thousand times before, had spent her life weaving through Velaris’ twisting paths, but today, everything felt off.

Maybe it was the way her shadows curled around her ankles, clinging like wisps of smoke. Normally, they stayed quiet, hidden. But today? Today, they coiled and flickered in the late afternoon light, shifting uneasily as if they could sense her nerves.

She forced herself to breathe, to smooth her expression into something neutral. Calm. Steady. No one else could hear the thoughts racing through her head.

But they could see her.

She felt the stares before she even registered them. Passing merchants, nobles, fae of all kinds—glancing, double-taking, murmuring behind their hands. Some were subtle about it, a flick of the eyes before looking away. Others… not so much.

She supposed she must’ve made quite the sight.

A ballerina dressed in soft pastels—pink tights, a flowy white wrap skirt, a delicate shrug over her leotard—strolling through the streets, framed by shadows as dark as night.

It was almost comical.

She had heard the whispers before, of course. Had caught snippets of conversation when people thought she wasn’t listening.

A Shadowsinger, really? In ballet?

Shouldn’t she be in Illyrian camps instead?

Those shadows make her look unnatural.

She doesn’t belong on that stage.

She clenched her jaw and kept walking.

Azriel would have torn them apart if he’d been here to hear it. He’d spent months convincing her that none of it mattered, that she belonged just as much as any other dancer.

She wanted to believe him. But with every lingering stare, with every quiet murmur as she passed, doubt curled around her ribs like a vice.

By the time she reached the towering glass doors of the audition hall, her chest was tight, her palms clammy despite the cool breeze.

She exhaled sharply, shook out her hands.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

She pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

The waiting room was already full.

Dancers lined the benches, stretching, warming up, adjusting their satin slippers. The air buzzed with quiet tension—whispers of last-minute corrections, murmured prayers, soft hums of concentration.

The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed everything in golden light, making the polished wooden floors gleam. At the far end of the room, a set of doors led to the main audition space, where the judges were already seated, watching the first few candidates perform.

Y/N barely had time to take it all in before she felt it—the stares.

It was subtle at first, the way conversation dipped when she walked past, the way dancers exchanged looks, eyes flicking from her delicate pastel ensemble to the dark tendrils of shadow trailing at her feet.

She swallowed, lifting her chin.

Just get to the changing rooms.

She weaved through the crowd, passing the line of dancers already dressed in pristine costumes. A few were adjusting their hair into perfect buns, fixing smudged makeup, stretching out their limbs. Others were simply watching her.

She could feel their judgment.

It’s funny, isn’t it? she thought bitterly.

A girl like her—draped in pinks and creams, with ribbons laced up her ankles—moving with the grace of a trained ballerina, while shadows slithered at her feet like something out of a nightmare.

Like she was some contradiction that shouldn’t exist.

She tried to act indifferent. She forced herself to walk like she wasn’t being scrutinized, like the weight of their judgment wasn’t pressing into her spine. But inside, her stomach twisted.

She barely let out a breath when she finally reached the changing rooms, slipping inside.

Alone at last.

She pressed her hands against the counter, staring at her reflection in the large mirror.

Her face was composed, expression calm. But her hands—her fingers trembled against the polished marble.

Her shadows curled tighter around her, as if sensing her unease.

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

Just a few more minutes.

Then it would be time.

Y/N sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her posture straight despite the way her stomach twisted in knots.

Dancers came and went, each vanishing through the grand doors at the end of the waiting room before reappearing minutes later—some with relieved smiles, others fighting back tears.

Her turn was coming. Soon.

She tried to focus on steadying her breathing, on keeping her shadows from shifting too visibly around her. They were curling tight at her ankles, slithering up her arms like they, too, could sense her nerves.

And then—

“Are you lost?”

The voice was sweet. Mocking.

Y/N turned, already knowing what she’d find.

A group of three female dancers, all in the same pristine white audition attire, stood together near the mirrored wall. Their leader—a tall, elegant blonde—tilted her head, expression full of exaggerated pity.

Y/N forced a calm smile. “No.”

A few of the other dancers nearby had already started whispering.

The blonde raised a brow, looking her over slowly—lingering on her darkened shadows. “You? Ballet?” She let out a high, amused laugh. “I think you might have the wrong building, sweetheart.”

The other two girls behind her giggled.

Y/N kept her shoulders relaxed, her face carefully neutral. “I’m here for the same reason as you.”

The blonde blinked, as if that was the funniest thing she’d heard all day. Then she let out another sharp laugh. “Oh, darling. No, no—you can’t be.”

Y/N clenched her jaw.

“Oh, don’t look so serious.” The girl smirked. “It’s just… well.” She gestured to Y/N’s shadows, which had curled tight at her feet like wary animals. “You don’t exactly fit, do you?”

A sick feeling churned in Y/N’s gut.

The girl leaned in slightly, voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Did you hit your head? Or do you just have some kind of delusional sickness?”

More laughter. More murmurs from the surrounding dancers.

Y/N’s throat felt tight. Don’t react. Don’t let them see it.

She tried to respond, tried to form a retort—but her mind was suddenly blank.

Her shadows flickered uneasily. The blonde just smiled wider. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said softly, like she was so concerned. “It’s not your fault, really. You just weren’t made for this world.”

Y/N felt her hands clench in her lap, her thoughts growing darker, heavier.

And then—

“Y/N.”

Her head snapped up.

A staff member stood by the grand doors, scanning the room with a clipboard in hand. “You’re up next.”

Her heart stopped.

For a moment, she was frozen in place.

Then—slowly, unsurely—she stood.

She could feel their eyes on her as she walked toward the doors. Could hear the hushed snickers, the barely concealed whispers.

Just as she passed, another girl murmured under her breath, just loud enough for her to hear—

“Maybe she’ll trip and vanish in those shadows.”

Her stomach clenched.

But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

She stepped through the doors.

The audition stage was massive.

Golden chandeliers hung high above, their light casting a soft glow over the polished wooden floors. The room stretched wide, with sweeping archways and tall, pristine windows that overlooked Velaris.

And at the very front—seated behind a long, curved table—sat the panel of judges.

Five in total.

Their expressions were unreadable as they observed her, hands folded, quills poised.

Y/N swallowed hard.

The reality of it all hit her at once.

This was it.

Her entire career—her dream—was hinging on the next few minutes.

She forced herself to stand tall, to ignore the way her nerves coiled deep in her stomach.

“Whenever you’re ready,” one of the judges said, voice clipped and professional.

She nodded.

The music began.

For the first few moments, everything was fine.

Her muscles knew the movements. She had drilled them into her body a thousand times over. Her limbs extended with precision, her turns were smooth, her leaps controlled.

But then—

The whispers came back.

Not real, but in her head—echoing, clawing.

You don’t belong here.

Those ugly shadows—

Maybe she’ll trip and vanish—

You just weren’t made for this world.

Her rhythm faltered.

Her mind spiraled.

No, no—focus, keep going—

But the doubts were crushing her, strangling her.

And then—

Her foot landed wrong.

A sharp twist of her ankle.

A gasp.

And she was falling.

Hard.

The music cut out instantly.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Y/N stayed where she was—knees against the polished floor, hands shaking, breath ragged.

She didn’t dare look up.

Didn’t dare face the judges.

But then—

“That will be all.”

The cold, detached voice sliced through the air like a knife.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide. “No—please—”

One of the judges, an older fae male, raised a hand. “There’s no need,” he said, his voice edged with boredom. “We’ve seen what we need to see.”

Her chest tightened. “I—please, I’ve been training for five years—”

Another judge, a stern-looking female, scoffed. “And?”

Y/N’s throat burned.

The older fae leaned forward slightly. “Just because you are the Spymaster’s mate,” he said coolly, “and the High Lord’s sister-in-law, does not mean you own this place.”

The words hit her like a slap.

“No, I—” She swallowed, scrambling to find the right words, to fix this—“I don’t think that, I just—”

“You are not fit for this stage,” another judge interrupted, eyes cold. “You have neither the discipline nor the grace required to perform at this level.”

Her heart shattered.

“We will not be moving you forward.” The older judge’s voice was final.

She couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t move.

“Thank you for your time,” the female judge added, already looking away. “You may go.”

She had no choice.

Numbly, she stood.

She turned.

And she walked.

The moment she stepped back into the waiting room, the whispers started again.

A few of the dancers gave her long, smug looks.

She kept her head down.

She ignored the snickers, the cruel, whispered comments.

Her hands trembled as she grabbed her bag.

Then she turned and all but ran to the changing rooms.

The second the door shut behind her, she let out a shaky breath.

Her mind was spinning. Her heart ached.

What have I done?

Her fingers curled into fists.

She had ruined everything.

She had humiliated herself in front of the most prestigious judges in the city. She had proven every cruel whisper, every doubting stare right.

Her own hatred curled deep inside her, sharp and suffocating.

And then, a single thought struck her.

Azriel.

He was waiting outside.

Waiting for her with that quiet, steady patience. Waiting for her to walk out with a hopeful smile. And she—she had nothing to give him but failure.

Y/N took a deep, shuddering breath.

Then another.

She had exactly five seconds to fix her face before she walked out of this building.

One. She straightened her spine.

Two. She swallowed down the lump in her throat.

Three. She pulled her shoulders back, forcing her body to relax despite the tremors running through her veins.

Four. She curled her lips into the most dazzling, effortless smile she could manage.

Five. She stepped outside.

The cool evening air brushed against her skin, a sharp contrast to the suffocating weight pressing down on her chest.

And there he was.

Azriel stood by the entrance, his wings tucked neatly behind him, his scarred hands loose at his sides—but his entire body radiated the quiet, lethal stillness of a male always waiting, always watching.

The moment his eyes landed on her, something in them shifted.

His shadows stirred.

She knew he felt it. Knew he sensed something was wrong.

She forced herself to smile wider. “Hey, you.”

Azriel’s gaze flickered over her, his expression betraying nothing—except his shadows, which curled tight around his shoulders like wary sentries.

Then, his voice, low and steady: “Why did you close your side of the bond?”

Her breath hitched.

Shit.

She hadn’t expected him to catch onto that so fast.

She let out a soft laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, that? I just didn’t want to worry you with my constant overthinking.”

His eyes narrowed the slightest bit.

She pressed on, slipping seamlessly into her usual teasing tone. “You know how my mind gets—I was obsessing over little things before the audition, and I figured you didn’t need to deal with that.”

Azriel didn’t respond right away.

Instead, he watched her.

Watched her too closely.

For a second, she thought he might call her out on it—might push past the weak excuse and demand to know the truth.

But then, with a quiet exhale, he reached for her bag. “Nonsense,” he murmured, effortlessly taking it from her grasp.

She let him, knowing better than to argue.

Then, before she could react, his arms were around her—one hand pressing against her back, the other coming up to cradle the back of her head as he tucked her into him.

Y/N nearly broke.

The warmth of him, the quiet strength in the way he held her—it nearly shattered her.

But she couldn’t let it.

She wouldn’t let it.

So instead, she melted into him, resting her cheek against his chest and breathing in the familiar scent of night-chilled wind and cedar.

Azriel pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering for just a second longer than usual. “Promise me you won’t do that again.”

She blinked. “Do what?”

His grip on her tightened. “Close your side of the bond like that.”

Y/N swallowed hard.

“I was ready to break in just to make sure you were safe,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “Don’t do that to me again, love.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. He can’t know. He can’t know.

When she finally spoke, her voice was light. Playful. “Az, you’re being dramatic.”

His arms didn’t loosen.

She tipped her head back just enough to meet his gaze, mustering up a soft smile. “I’m fine. See? Perfectly fine.”

Azriel studied her.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled through his nose and finally, finally released her—though his hand lingered on the small of her back as they started walking.

They moved in comfortable silence for a bit, the cool night air wrapping around them.

And then—

“So,” Azriel said, his tone light, casual. “How did it go?”

Y/N froze.

Only for a fraction of a second.

But he noticed.

Of course he noticed.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she forced her body to remain loose, her expression to remain bright.

Then she laughed, shaking her head as if amused. “Oh, it went great.”

Azriel glanced at her. “Yeah?”

She nodded eagerly. “Yeah. I can’t wait to see the results. They said the decisions will be out in two weeks, so…” She trailed off, shrugging. “Now it’s just a waiting game.”

Azriel was still watching her.

She felt his eyes on her, felt the way his shadows curled subtly closer.

She knew what he was doing—trying to read her body, her breathing, her heartbeat.

So she made sure they all remained steady.

She had years of training in deception. She could fake confidence, fake nonchalance—hell, she could fake a damn performance if needed.

And right now, she needed Azriel to believe her.

Because if he didn’t—if he so much as suspected—

Az hummed. “So they didn’t give any immediate feedback?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Just the usual ‘thank you for your time, we’ll be in touch.’”

His brows furrowed slightly. “That’s standard?”

“Very,” she assured him.

Another hum. “And you feel good about it?”

She beamed. “I do.”

Azriel didn’t speak for a long moment.

Y/N’s stomach clenched.

Please let this work. Please believe me.

Finally—

“Well,” he said, his voice softer now. “Then I guess we wait.”

She let out a small breath of relief, nodding.

Azriel gave her a sidelong glance. “But just so you know…”

She raised a brow. “Hmm?”

His free hand reached for hers, fingers threading together effortlessly.

“I don’t need to hear the results to already be proud of you.”

Her throat tightened.

Her nails dug into her palm.

She forced herself to smile. “You’re sweet.”

Azriel only squeezed her hand. “You’re mine.”

For a split second, the weight in her chest almost lifted.

But then she remembered—

The failure.

The fall.

The cold, dismissive words of the judges.

You are not fit for this stage.

And just like that, the crushing guilt came surging back.

So Y/N just held onto his hand a little tighter.

And she kept smiling.

Azriel insisted on making dinner, saying she should relax after the audition.

And so here he was, moving around the kitchen like it was his second home, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables mingling with the sizzle of something cooking in the pan. Y/N sat at the table, silently watching him, trying her best to keep her expression neutral. She didn’t want him to see through the mask she was wearing, didn’t want him to know how much she was falling apart on the inside.

“You’re being quiet,” Azriel said, not looking up from his work.

Y/N smiled tightly. “Just tired.”

He paused, his gaze flickering to her from over his shoulder. She caught the way his brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything—just went back to what he was doing, humming softly as he worked.

Azriel was always calm, always steady, and she found it both soothing and maddening. He could sense things—things she wasn’t always ready to confront—and she hated how well he knew her. But tonight, she wouldn’t let him see. She couldn’t.

She reached for her glass of water, her hand trembling just slightly. She was sure he’d notice. But he didn’t. He was focused on the dinner, and for a moment, she let herself relax into the normalcy of the moment, the small relief of not having to pretend she was somewhere else, someone else.

When he finally brought dinner to the table, Y/N forced herself to smile and thank him. She even complimented him on the food, but she could feel him watching her, his eyes scanning her every move, trying to figure out what was wrong.

Azriel didn’t ask any questions yet, but Y/N could sense the storm brewing behind his calm façade. He always knew when she wasn’t okay.

They ate in silence for a few moments, the clink of silverware the only sound between them. Her mind was elsewhere, far from the meal in front of her, as the words from her audition echoed through her thoughts.

“You’ve been quiet all evening,” Azriel said again, this time his voice much softer.

Y/N blinked and met his gaze. He was studying her, his brow slightly furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. He was worried—she could feel it, even if he didn’t say the words out loud.

“I’m just thinking,” she replied, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.

“About the audition?” he asked, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of concern.

Y/N hesitated. Should she lie? Pretend that everything was fine? Or should she admit it—admit how awful it had gone?

But before she could answer, he reached across the table, his hand covering hers. His thumb brushed along her skin, warm and reassuring.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said quietly.

She sucked in a breath, her heart pounding in her chest. The warmth of his hand almost made her break, almost made her say it all, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

“I’m fine, Azriel,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Really.”

He didn’t believe her, she could see it in his eyes, but he didn’t push. Not yet.

He nodded slowly, his eyes not leaving hers. “If you say so.”

But there was an edge in his tone—one that made her heart sink a little further.

Dinner passed quietly after that. They talked about trivial things, Azriel asking her about her plans for the next few days, but it all felt distant to her. As if the words were just background noise, and her mind was somewhere else, drowning in everything she was trying to bury.

Finally, when the meal was over, Azriel cleared the table, his movements sharp, precise. Y/N stayed seated, her fingers picking at the edge of her napkin, twisting it nervously.

“You know,” he said, his back still to her as he loaded dishes into the sink, “you don’t have to keep things from me.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. She looked down at her hands, trying to keep her face composed.

“I’m not keeping anything from you,” she said, her voice a little too high.

Azriel paused, his back still turned, but his posture was stiff now. “You’re lying.”

Y/N bit her lip, her heart thudding in her chest. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t break. Not in front of him. Not when he had already given her everything—his trust, his heart. She couldn’t disappoint him.

“Azriel,” she started, her voice trembling just slightly. “Please, just… don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I swear.”

He turned to face her, his expression unreadable, but his eyes… they were full of that quiet, relentless concern that always seemed to follow her.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Y/N.” His voice was almost a whisper, like he was afraid to push her too far. “Not with me.”

For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other, the space between them charged with unsaid words.

Finally, Y/N forced a smile—one that she hoped was convincing enough to fool him. “I know,” she said softly. “But right now, I just need a little time, okay?”

Azriel didn’t respond at first. He studied her for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether or not he should press her further. But then, with a soft sigh, he nodded.

“I’m here when you’re ready to talk,” he said quietly.

Y/N smiled again, though this time it felt more like a mask than anything real.

“I know.”

But inside, the walls she’d spent so long building were crumbling, piece by piece, and no matter how hard she tried to hold them up, she knew it wouldn’t be much longer before they all came down.

She just hoped Azriel wouldn’t be the one to see it happen.

Not yet.

Not while she was still pretending.

The next evening, when Azriel came home, he was expecting nothing more than the usual quiet, the calm of his home and his bondmate waiting for him. What he hadn’t expected was to find Y/N sitting on the couch, her posture rigid, her eyes staring blankly at the wall.

His heart immediately sank at the sight. Something was off—he could feel it in his chest, that strange, unsettling tightness that always came when Y/N was hurting. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him softly, not wanting to startle her.

“Y/N?” His voice was tentative, but there was an underlying current of concern.

She didn’t respond right away, and the silence stretched between them like a fragile thread. He walked closer, his eyes scanning her face. She looked… exhausted, drained, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her. He crouched beside her, tilting his head to catch her eyes.

“Love, are you okay?” he asked softly.

Y/N blinked and finally turned her gaze to him. There was something in her eyes—something that made him take an instinctive step back.

“I’m fine,” she said, the words too quick, too rehearsed.

Azriel studied her for a moment longer before sitting down next to her, his tone shifting, more serious. “You don’t have to lie to me, Y/N. What’s going on?”

She didn’t meet his eyes again, her gaze dropping to her hands, folded neatly in her lap. The stillness in her was unnatural, and the shadows around them seemed to pulse with tension. Azriel’s brows furrowed as he let out a quiet sigh, his instincts kicking in.

He didn’t press her at first—he’d learned by now to give her space—but the questions came slowly, each one a little heavier than the last. “How was your day?”

“Fine.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she recovered quickly.

“Did you think about the results?”

“Not really, as I said the audition went well” she answered too quickly, her voice tight.

Azriel paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. She was hiding something, and the silence between them was thick with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he got the truth. “Really?”

She nodded, but her breath hitched ever so slightly, the only sign that something was wrong.

Azriel’s gaze softened, but his suspicion grew, and it was in that moment, when the quiet stretched on just a little too long, that the final thread snapped. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He had to know. He had to confront whatever this was.

He leaned in slightly, his voice hardening with a cold edge. “That’s why you tripped and fell during your audition yesterday?”

Y/N froze, her eyes widening, her body stiffening. The breath in her lungs caught. She hadn’t expected him to know that. Hadn’t expected him to have seen through the lies she’d told herself, the façade she’d built to protect herself.

“How do you know that?” Her voice was small, trembling with the weight of the question.

Azriel’s gaze darkened, his anger simmering just below the surface. He didn’t let her answer before he spoke again. “I knew something was up the moment you stepped out of those doors. I couldn’t just sit around pondering what was wrong with you. My shadows did their job well and brought me all I needed to know.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “From the… the start?”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening in barely contained rage. “Yes. From the moment those bastards bullied you.” His words were venomous, and Y/N could see the raw anger in his eyes. “I know exactly what they said. The venom they spilled at you…” His voice trailed off, trembling with rage.

Y/N stood up abruptly, her hands shaking. “You had no right!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in anger and desperation.

Azriel stood, his body tense with rage, his eyes dark as shadows swirled around him. “No right?” He took a step forward, his voice rising with every word, a dangerous edge creeping in. “NO RIGHT?! Those bastards were bullying you, Y/N, and you didn’t say a thing?! You didn’t tell me what they said, didn’t let me help you—didn’t let me protect you?”

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her shoulders shaking. Her voice cracked, the raw emotion spilling out in a flood of hurt and frustration. “I couldn’t, Azriel! I couldn’t—don’t you get it? I couldn’t bring myself to tell you! I’ve been… I’ve been hiding this from you because I didn’t want to burden you. I didn’t want to be weak. I didn’t want to show you how broken I am. How useless I am…”

She stumbled backward, shaking her head in a frantic movement, her chest tight as she gasped for breath. “I’m just… I’m just not good enough! I’m not strong enough! I fail, every time. I failed at the audition, Azriel! I’m never going to be good enough for this world, for you! Don't you see the stares? Hear the whispers? No one thinks I'm worthy enough, no one..."

Her words came in a rush, all the broken pieces of herself spilling out in one chaotic moment. “The shadows—the way they looked at me, the way they whispered behind my back. They were right, Azriel. They were right about me. I’m nothing, I’m just…” She choked on her words, her knees buckling as she collapsed onto the couch again, her face buried in her hands.

Azriel’s heart clenched painfully in his chest as he stepped forward, his anger now replaced with an aching sadness. His voice was gentle but firm as he knelt beside her, reaching out to take her trembling hands in his. “Don’t you ever say that about yourself. You hear me? Don’t you ever say that again.”

Y/N shook her head violently, her tears pouring freely now. “I’ve failed so many times, Azriel. Every time I try, I trip, I fall, I let everyone down. The shadows—they don’t even care about me. They—”

Azriel grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion she hadn’t seen before. His voice was a low, raw growl. “They were wrong. Every damn thing they said was wrong. You are good enough. You are strong enough. And I’ll be damned if I let you talk about yourself like this again.”

Y/N gasped, her heart pounding in her chest. Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken sob.

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his gaze searching hers, desperation in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you trust me?”

She pulled away from him, her hands shaking as she wiped at her tears. “Because I couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing me like this. Of you seeing how weak I am. I thought I could handle it, that I could be enough on my own, but I’m not. I’m not…”

Azriel’s gaze softened, and he cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing over the tear tracks on her cheeks. His voice was soft but unwavering. “You are enough, Y/N. Don’t ever believe otherwise. You are stronger than anyone I know, and I’m so damn proud of you. Don’t you dare let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Her sobs subsided, but the rawness of her insecurities still lingered between them, like an invisible barrier. Azriel leaned forward, his voice low but firm. “Names.”

Y/N shook her head, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Please, Azriel. Don’t do this.”

“I already know who they are,” he replied, his voice calm but insistent. “But I need to hear you say it. Confirm it. Please.”

She hesitated, then, with great reluctance, she whispered the names of some of those she knew of who had bullied her previously, each one a dagger to her heart.

Azriel nodded, his face unreadable as he absorbed the information. When she finished, he reached for her, pulling her into his arms once more. She let herself sink into him, her heart breaking, her trust growing just a little bit stronger with each passing moment.

“I won’t let them get away with this,” he whispered fiercely into her hair, his voice promising more than words could say. “But I need you to promise me something.”

“What?” she whispered back, barely able to speak through the tears.

He pulled back, cupping her face, his expression firm. “Swear to me that you won’t hide anything from me again. No more lies, no more keeping things from me. Keep the bond open, always. Promise me, Y/N.”

Her eyes met his, a flicker of hesitation passing through her, but in the end, she nodded. “I promise.”

Azriel’s face softened, but the resolve in his eyes remained. “And don’t you ever doubt yourself again,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “You’re worth everything, Y/N. Don’t you ever forget that.”

As the two of them stood there, lost in their embrace, something shifted between them. The pain, the secrets, the walls—they weren’t gone, but they were no longer insurmountable. And for the first time in a long time, Y/N allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she was enough.

The days that followed the confrontation were quieter, more contemplative, but no less intense. Y/N struggled with her shadows, each day finding new cracks in her confidence, but each day, Azriel stood by her, watching in the background, patiently waiting for her to let him in.

It started with the small moments, those subtle acts of care that made her feel seen without being smothered. She had always been strong, had always prided herself on standing on her own, but now, after everything, the thought of dancing again seemed like an insurmountable mountain. The audition failure had knocked her harder than she’d let on. And the cruel words, the judgment she’d faced, were still echoing in her mind. She wasn’t sure if she could go back to the barre, could go back to the thing that had once been her escape.

But Azriel wouldn’t let her hide from it.

“You don’t have to do this all at once,” he’d say quietly, stepping into the room when he sensed she was lost in the shadows of her mind, the world outside muted in her silence. “Take it slow. But don’t quit. Don’t let them win.”

Y/N would look at him with that guarded expression, not wanting to admit how much she wanted to run. Not wanting to show him how weak she felt.

But he was patient. He’d never push too hard, never rush her into something she wasn’t ready for. Instead, he’d talk to her about anything else—about the weather, about his training, about the little things that made her smile—until, gradually, the conversation would shift, and the quiet moments would fill the space between them.

Then one day, when she was too tired to pretend she wasn’t aching, he sat across from her as she wrapped her shoes.

“You still want to do this,” Azriel said quietly, watching her with a gaze that spoke volumes. “Don’t hide from it.”

Y/N didn’t look up. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.

Azriel stood, moving closer without a word. He didn’t touch her, didn’t crowd her space, but his presence was soothing, a gentle reminder that she wasn’t alone in this. His shadows, ever loyal to him, surrounded her, their warmth seeping into her own. “You can,” he replied simply, his voice carrying that deep, unwavering certainty that made her chest tighten.

His words weren’t demanding, weren’t pressuring. It was more of an invitation.

Slowly, Y/N laced her shoes, her hands trembling just slightly, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Not with him standing there, not with the strength in his eyes watching her like she was the only thing that mattered.

“Let me help you,” Azriel said, his tone low, intimate. “Let me help you heal, one step at a time.”

She didn’t answer immediately, but she didn’t need to. His quiet persistence was enough, and it settled into her bones, wrapping around her like a familiar cloak.

And so, the days passed. Each one a little easier than the last. Azriel’s presence was constant—he didn’t force her, didn’t push her, but his quiet admiration, his praise when she succeeded, built her back up in ways words alone couldn’t. Every small improvement, every hesitant movement, was a victory in his eyes.

Whenever she danced, whenever she felt the weight of doubt try to settle in, she’d sense his presence in the room. He was always there, hidden in the shadows, watching, waiting. His shadows moved with hers, always in sync, always intertwined in a dance of their own, a silent exchange of trust and understanding.

His admiration for her wasn’t in loud declarations or grand gestures. It was in the little things. In the way his shadows would curl around her when she hesitated, steadying her when she almost fell. In the way his eyes softened every time she let herself lose control, the way he made sure she always felt seen, even when she thought no one was watching.

One evening, after another failed attempt at perfecting a pirouette, Y/N huffed in frustration, stepping back from the barre. Her muscles ached, her body exhausted from the constant battle to get back to where she once was.

Azriel didn’t speak right away. Instead, he walked up to her, his gaze unwavering. He was always watching, always noticing.

“You know,” he began, his voice low, teasing just slightly, “your shadows were in perfect sync with mine tonight.” He smirked, his eyes glinting with a playful edge. “It’s almost like they know what you’re capable of, even if you don’t.”

Y/N looked up at him, her breath caught in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

“I’ve been watching you,” he continued, his voice softer now, more earnest. “You have something no one else does, Y/N. Your strength—your heart—it’s what makes you beautiful, and it’s what makes you powerful. And every time you step back into that studio, you show me a little more of who you are.”

His words were simple, but they struck her in ways she couldn’t explain. She felt her heart pound in her chest, the raw emotion of his praise and support slowly melting away the remnants of the fear and doubt that had clouded her for so long.

Y/N took a deep breath and nodded, her gaze meeting his, no longer afraid to hold it. “I’ll try again,” she said softly.

Azriel’s smile was small but full of pride. He stepped back, his shadows still lingering around her. “I know you will. And when you do, I’ll be here.”

Every step she took, every movement she made, she could feel his presence at her side, not as a crutch but as the support she didn’t know she needed. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel so alone in the dance.

The healing was slow, but it was real. Each moment, each word, each look from Azriel was a step toward rebuilding the confidence she had lost. She wasn’t just getting back to where she was—she was becoming something more. Something stronger. Something she didn’t think was possible. And with Azriel by her side, she knew that, no matter what came next, she wasn’t going to give up. Not anymore.

Azriel paced through the streets of Velaris, each step heavy with anger. His thoughts churned, his mind unwilling to leave the image of Y/N from earlier that morning. She had smiled, but it hadn't reached her eyes. She was trying to hide it again, pretending like everything was fine when it was anything but.

His shadows swirled around him, agitated by his own tension. They could feel his fury, his frustration, and his desperate need to protect her, even if she didn't fully understand it herself.

She had tried to hide it from him. She thought he didn't know about the insults— the cruel words those judges had spat at her.

She thought he couldn't see it in her eyes, in the way she held herself, the way she moved now as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

And it made him seethe with rage.

The anger that had been simmering inside him ever since she had confided in him about what happened during the audition was reaching a boiling point. He had promised her. He had sworn not to act. But how the hell was he supposed to keep that promise when the world-these people-had done this to her?

He clenched his fists, feeling the ache in his bones, the frustration gnawing at him. The female he cared about, the one he loved, the one he wanted to see succeed, was broken in ways that no one could understand. No one except him.

And all he wanted to do was rip apart the world that had done this to her.

He felt the weight of his own limitations pressing down on him. He was a warrior, a spymaster-he was trained to eliminate threats, to take down anyone who stood in his way. But this... this was different. This wasn't some battle he could fight on a battlefield. It was a war waged on the heart, and it made him feel helpless, more than he had ever felt before.

He was so fucking angry. Angry at them for humiliating her. Angry at himself for not noticing sooner. Angry that she thought she could bear this burden alone, hiding it from him.

But that was going to change. He couldn't keep his promise. Not when he knew what they had done. Not when he knew the damage they'd caused. He could feel it in every fiber of his being-this deep, primal need to protect her from everything that wanted to break her down. He was done standing by.

Done pretending that he didn't see the cracks in her.

Done watching her hide from the truth.

He was going to make them pay. Every last one of them.

The judges' gathering was held in the home of one of the higher-ranking members, a large, lavish place that screamed of power and authority. As soon as Azriel winnowed himself in, the room fell silent. His presence was enough to make everyone freeze. He could feel their eyes on him, the shock radiating from their faces. They weren't expecting him, weren't prepared for someone like him to walk in.

They had no idea what they were dealing with.

eyes cutting through the air like a blade. He didn't say a word, his silence hanging heavy in the room, suffocating. He could feel his shadows coiling tighter around him, his anger leaking into the atmosphere like a dangerous storm.

"Spymaster," one of them said, his voice barely a whisper, fear seeping through.

Azriel didn't respond. He took a step forward, the air growing colder with every inch he moved. "You know why I'm here," he said, his voice low, dangerous, a growl rumbling in his chest.

The head judge, a man whose face Azriel recognized all too well from the reports, shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I don't-"

"You don't?" Azriel interrupted, his voice laced with venom. "You don't remember insulting her? Belittling her? Telling her she wasn't good enough?”

The room went silent, the judges exchanging nervous glances. None of them dared to speak. They all knew exactly who he was talking about. They all knew exactly who he meant.

"Y/N," Azriel spat the name like it was poison, but the force of it sent a shiver down their spines. "You remember her, don't you?"

They swallowed hard, eyes darting around as if trying to find an escape. But there was no escape. Not from him.

"You made her feel like she wasn't worthy.

Like she wasn't good enough to be there," Azriel continued, his voice rising with each word. "You made her doubt herself. And I swear to the gods, if I hear any more of that bullshit from you, you won't live to regret it. If you ever so much as think about doing that to her again, I will make sure you regret it with every breath you take."

The judges were visibly shaken now, the threat clear in Azriel’s voice, but still, they tried to deny it. “We— We were just doing our job,” one of them stammered.

Azriel’s cold smile made the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end. “Your job? Your job was to make her feel small? Your job was to crush her spirit? Tell me, what part of that is ‘just doing your job’?”

One of the judges tried to stand up, but Azriel was faster. In a heartbeat, he grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground. “You’re going to listen to me very carefully, and you’re going to do exactly what I say,” Azriel growled, his voice dripping with menace. “You’re going to redo the audition. Only for her. You’re going to send a letter, and you’re going to call her back here. And when she walks through that door, you’re going to praise her performance. You’re going to tell her she has what it takes. You’re going to give her the chance she deserves.”

The man was gasping for breath, his eyes wide with panic as he choked on his words. “Y-yes… yes, we’ll do it,” he croaked, but Azriel wasn’t done yet.

“You better,” Azriel hissed, tightening his grip just enough to send the message. “And if you don’t… I will come for every one of you. I’ll start with your families. Your children. Your wives. I’ll make sure every single person in this room knows exactly what it means to cross me.”

The man whimpered, his hands clawing at Azriel’s wrist in a futile attempt to break free. “We… we’ll do it. Just let me go…”

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his expression chilling. He released the man, letting him crumple to the floor, gasping for air. He turned to the others. “Do you all understand?”

They nodded, fear and desperation written across their faces.

Azriel’s gaze swept over them one last time, making sure they understood just how close they had come to losing everything. “If any of you try to play this off as something else, if you try to twist the truth, I will come back. And next time, I won’t be as merciful.”

He turned, leaving them in the silence of his threat. As he stepped out of the house, his shadows coiled around him, a dark presence that was both comforting and deadly.

He had kept his promise to Y/N. For now. But Azriel knew there was no stopping the fury that had been unleashed. He would protect her. He would always protect her. And anyone who tried to hurt her would regret it—deeply.

Feyre’s studio—her space in Velaris—was warm, filled with the scent of fresh paint and the faintest trace of lavender from the candles she had lit. Sunlight streamed through the wide windows, casting a golden glow over the half-finished paintings scattered across the room. It was peaceful. A quiet retreat from the weight of the world.

Y/N ran her fingers over the rim of a cup of tea, listening as Feyre hummed while mixing colors on her palette. They had been talking about nothing in particular—just idle chatter about a new piece Feyre was working on, how the city had been lately, and Y/N’s attempts to distract herself from the gnawing disappointment still lingering in her chest.

She had been getting better. She had been trying to move on from the humiliation of that audition. Feyre, as always, had been patient and kind, giving her space to talk but never pressing when she didn’t want to.

Y/N was about to respond to something Feyre said when the door swung open, and a familiar, commanding presence filled the room.

Azriel.

Her heart skipped, a warmth blooming in her chest the second their eyes met.

“High Lady,” he greeted Feyre smoothly, giving a respectful nod.

And, Cauldron boil her, Y/N knew she was hopelessly in love with this male the moment his expression shifted. The moment that cold, unreadable mask softened as his gaze found hers.

She went all mushy, as Feyre had put it before, whenever he did that. She hated how accurate it was.

“Az,” she breathed, already moving toward him before she could think twice about it.

He caught her the second she was within reach, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her into his chest. Y/N melted into him, pressing her face into his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of night-chilled wind and cedar.

Home.

She felt his lips press a kiss to the top of her head before he pulled back slightly, his hazel eyes warm with something unreadable. “I missed you.”

A smile curled on her lips. “Where were you all day?”

Azriel hummed, running a hand down her back as he gave a nonchalant answer. “Handling some things.”

“Secret spymaster things?” she teased, tilting her head up at him.

His lips twitched, but he didn’t confirm or deny it. Instead, he leaned down, brushing his nose against hers before pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “You didn’t need to miss me. I’m always here.”

Y/N sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck, enjoying the quiet moment of just them. “Sap.”

He chuckled, pressing another lingering kiss against her temple. “Only for you.”

Feyre, being the saint that she was, took that as her cue to excuse herself. “I’ll just—give you two a moment,” she muttered, already heading toward the back of the room.

Y/N barely acknowledged her leaving. She was too busy soaking in the rare gentleness of the male before her.

But then—

A hesitant voice called out from the hallway. “Uh…Az?”

Feyre had just returned, but she wasn’t looking at them. She was looking past them, toward the entrance of the studio, her brows raised in confusion. “Did you bring… all those females into my hallway?”

Y/N blinked, pulling away slightly from Azriel’s hold.

Feyre continued, looking increasingly concerned. “I mean, I don’t want to sound judgy, but they’re bound in your shadows. And there are like… fifteen of them.”

Y/N froze.

She turned fully, stepping out of Azriel’s embrace to look at him properly. “What?”

Azriel sighed. Not in regret. Not in guilt. But in the sort of way that said, I knew this was coming.

And then, he turned to her with a small, knowing smile. “Yes.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped.

Azriel took her hands, his thumbs running over her knuckles. “And they will all apologize.” His voice lowered, his lips brushing against her forehead. “They will beg on their knees for your forgiveness.”

Feyre choked. “Forgiveness? What—what the hell is going on?”

Azriel, ever so casually, replied, “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest. “Az,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, shaking her head. “No. Please.”

His hands cupped her face, his thumbs tilting her chin up as he leaned in, pressing another soft, deliberate kiss against her lips. It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t desperate. It was firm. Resolute.

When he pulled back, his hazel eyes burned with unwavering determination. “No,” he murmured against her lips. “You need this.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

Azriel turned to Feyre, his voice returning to its usual icy calm. “Stay here.”

Then, without another word, he led Y/N to the hallway.

And there they were.

Fifteen females, all bound by thick, writhing shadows, their wrists locked together, their ankles bound. Some of them were trembling, silent tears streaking their faces. Others looked frozen in fear, their lips parted, as if they wanted to speak but couldn’t.

Y/N could barely breathe.

Azriel didn’t hesitate. His shadows curled tighter around the females as he spoke, his voice dark, merciless.

“Now,” he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Get in line.”

The shadows obeyed, shifting, forcing them into a single row.

Azriel stepped forward, his wings partially flaring as a cruel smirk played at his lips.

“One by one,” he drawled, “each of you will take turns begging for my mate’s forgiveness.”

Y/N stared at him, shock rippling through her entire body.

And she had no idea what to say.

The air was suffocating.

Y/N stood frozen as the first female, the moment Azriel’s shadows slithered away from her wrists, collapsed to her knees in front of her.

The thud of her body hitting the marble floor echoed through the hallway.

“I—I’m sorry,” the female gasped, tears streaming down her face, her voice breaking with desperation. “Please—please, I take it back. I take it all back.”

Y/N’s breath caught. Her fingers twitched at her sides, her gut instinct screaming at her to take a step back, to shake her head, to tell her that it was fine—

Azriel’s hand came to rest on her forearm, a quiet, grounding touch.

She turned to him, her wide eyes meeting his. His expression was unreadable, his jaw set, his wings tucked behind him like a warrior standing guard. A silent message passed between them.

Do not give in. Do not let them escape the weight of what they did.

And maybe—maybe he was right.

Maybe these people, these females who had mocked her, who had shamed her, who had torn apart something she had poured her entire soul into—maybe they should feel this. Maybe they should know what it was like to have the world force you onto your knees, to feel helpless, to feel humiliated.

So she swallowed hard, ignored the burn in her throat, and slowly, slowly, she gave the smallest nod.

And then the next female fell.

Then the next.

And the next.

One by one, they dropped before her, sobbing, stammering out apologies that all blurred together.

We didn’t mean it. We were just talking. Please, please, I swear, we didn’t think— Forgive me, I was wrong, I was wrong!

Y/N watched, her fingers trembling, as they all crumbled. As they begged.

The last one, the one who had humiliated her the worst, remained standing.

Azriel’s shadows didn’t let her go.

Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her shoulders shaking as she forced herself to meet Y/N’s gaze. Unlike the others, she wasn’t crying.

But she was afraid.

And Azriel?

He smirked.

His voice was low, a whisper of lethal amusement. “Oh? Nothing to say?”

The female’s jaw clenched. She was shaking, her hands curled into fists at her sides. Y/N could see the war raging behind her eyes—her pride battling with the absolute terror of what he would do to her if she didn’t submit.

Azriel stepped forward. His movements were slow, calculated, the air around them darkening as his shadows curled along the floor like ink spreading through water.

“I remember you,” he murmured, tilting his head as if studying prey caught in a snare. “You had so much to say that day. So many things to mock, so many insults to throw.”

His smirk sharpened.

“Say them now.”

The female visibly swallowed. “I—”

She didn’t get to finish.

Azriel was suddenly inches from her, his hand gripping her chin with a deceptively gentle hold. His wings flared slightly, his breath a ghost of a whisper against her skin.

“No?” he purred, mock surprise lacing his tone. “Why not? Where is that sharp tongue of yours now?”

The female’s body trembled, her knees visibly weakening, but she remained standing.

Azriel’s fingers pressed in just a fraction tighter, forcing her to look at him. “Do you know what happens to people who insult what belongs to me?”

Y/N shivered at the quiet, lethal promise in his voice.

The female finally cracked. A soft whimper escaped her lips.

And then—Azriel’s shadows dropped her.

She hit the floor with a painful gasp, and before Y/N could react, she was crawling forward, her hands gripping the fabric of Y/N’s dress as she bowed before her.

“I—I was wrong,” the female choked out. “I was so wrong. Please. Please, forgive me.”

Y/N could only stare.

Azriel stood behind her, looming like a shadowed god. His voice was pure ice as he spoke.

“Beg louder.”

The female’s body trembled violently as she clutched Y/N’s dress, her fingers digging into the fabric like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

“Please,” she choked out, her voice raw. “I—I was wrong, I—”

Azriel’s cold, deadly voice cut through the air like a blade.

"Louder."

The female flinched, her breath hitching. Y/N’s heart pounded as she stared down at the woman who had torn her apart just days ago, who had laughed at her, who had made her feel like she was nothing.

Now, that same woman was crawling at her feet.

Y/N’s hands trembled at her sides. This—this was too much. This wasn’t her. She didn’t need this.

But hadn’t she dreamed of this moment?

Hadn’t she imagined looking into their faces, imagined hearing them admit what they had done? That they had crushedher? Hadn’t she wanted this?

A twisted part of her, buried deep inside, relished it.

Not for the power.

Not for revenge.

But because for once—for once—she wasn’t the one who had to bend.

She wasn’t the one forced to apologize for simply existing.

Azriel moved beside her, his warmth grounding her in the storm of emotions raging inside her. His wings cast a shadow over them both as he crouched, his voice nothing but a whisper laced with deadly amusement.

"I told you to beg louder."

The female sobbed. “Please! I was wrong! I—” Her voice cracked as she practically collapsed lower, pressing her forehead to the floor at Y/N’s feet. “I was cruel. I am the worthless one, not you! I take it back! I take all my words back! I—I didn’t mean it. I swear. I swear, I didn’t mean it—”

Y/N inhaled sharply.

Didn’t mean it?

No. That was a lie.

They meant it.

They had enjoyed it.

They had looked her in the eye and mocked the thing she loved most, had seen her hurt and laughed.

And now?

Now they were just scared.

They weren’t sorry for what they did.

They were sorry that Azriel had made them face it.

The realization hit her like a crashing wave, stealing the breath from her lungs.

She turned to him, her fingers instinctively reaching for his.

He was already watching her.

His hazel eyes softened—not with pity, but with understanding.

And that was when she realized—

This wasn’t just about making them beg. This was about giving her the choice. The power had always been in their hands.

Now, it was in hers.

Her gaze flickered back down to the female, still crying at her feet.

A beat of silence passed.

Then, Y/N took a slow step back, pulling herself from the woman’s grasp.

The female’s sobs quieted.

Y/N straightened her spine, letting the tension bleed from her limbs. Then, with a voice steady and calm—her voice, not Azriel’s, not anyone else’s—she spoke.

"Get up."

The female’s breath hitched.

Y/N arched a brow. "I said, get up."

Slowly, hesitantly, the woman obeyed, wiping at her tear-streaked face as she stood.

Y/N met her gaze, unwavering. “You’re not sorry for what you did.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “You’re sorry for what happened because of it.”

The woman opened her mouth—probably to protest, probably to claim she was sorry—but one look from Azriel had her shutting it immediately.

Y/N exhaled.

“I don’t need your apologies,” she continued. “They don’t change what you did. They don’t change how you made me feel.”

Her nails curled into her palms.

“I don’t forgive you.”

A flicker of something crossed the woman’s face—humiliation, maybe. But Y/N didn’t care.

“You can leave now,” Y/N said simply.

She saw Azriel’s shadows twitch—as if they didn’t want to let them go—but at her command, they loosened.

One by one, the females scrambled out of the hallway, their heads bowed, their faces still streaked with tears.

Y/N didn’t watch them go.

Instead, she turned to Azriel.

He was already looking at her.

And gods—gods, that look.

Like she had just become something entirely new before his eyes. Like she was something fierce, something untouchable.

His hand lifted, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, his knuckles grazing her cheek. “I’m proud of you,” he murmured.

Y/N swallowed.

She didn’t answer.

She just closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest.

His arms came around her instantly, holding her close, his chin resting atop her head.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, softly—

“Az?”

He hummed in response.

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Don’t ever do that again.”

A slow smirk curled his lips. “Not even a little?”

She glared.

He chuckled, but his fingers gently tilted her chin up. “Alright,” he murmured. “No more shadows dragging terrified females through the streets.”

A pause.

“Unless they deserve it.”

Y/N groaned, hiding her face in his chest again. Azriel just laughed, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head.

The morning sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting golden light over the small breakfast she was preparing. The scent of fresh bread and honey filled the air as Y/N moved around, her mind still heavy from yesterday’s events.

Even after all that happened, even after them begging for her forgiveness, a part of her still felt like it was over. That she had lost her dream.

She let out a quiet sigh as she plated the food, determined not to dwell on it. Az would be awake soon, and she wanted to surprise him with breakfast in bed—

A sudden whoosh of magic broke through the quiet morning.

She gasped, stumbling back as a parchment appeared before her, floating midair before it landed softly on the counter.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. With hesitant fingers, she reached for it, breaking the wax seal and unfolding the letter.

Her breath caught the second she read the words.

Miss Y/N,

After reviewing our previous judgment, we have come to realize that we misjudged your performance. We deeply regret our oversight and would like to offer you another opportunity to showcase your talents. If you are still interested, we invite you to perform again today in the afternoon at the Grand Theatre. We sincerely hope you will accept.

Her heart stopped.

Her hands trembled as she reread it again. And again.

She clutched the letter to her chest.

This—this can’t be real.

She had lost her chance. They had crushed it, torn it from her hands.

And now… they were offering it back?

She was so caught up in the storm of emotions that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her, didn’t notice the warmth approaching until two strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against a broad, familiar chest.

Azriel buried his face into the crook of her neck, pressing a lazy, sleepy kiss there as he murmured, “What is it?”

She felt the smile on his lips.

The knowing smile.

And something clicked in her mind.

She stiffened slightly, turning in his arms as she held the letter up between them. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

Azriel blinked at her. His expression was a perfect mask of confusion, of innocent curiosity. “What are you talking about?”

His voice was so smooth, so convincing—too convincing.

He tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing in the perfect Azriel-has-no-clue-what’s-going-on way.

And gods help her—she believed it.

Y/N’s breath came out in a shaky exhale, her body relaxing as she turned back to the letter. “Oh my gods,” she whispered, her lips parting in disbelief. “They really want me to perform again. They really—”

Her voice broke off. A choked laugh escaped her as her hands clutched the parchment tighter.

She had a second chance.

A delighted laugh bubbled up her throat as she turned back to Azriel, practically launching herself into his arms.

Az chuckled as he caught her with ease, spinning her slightly before settling her against him, his wings curling around them both.

“I knew it,” she beamed, her voice breathless. “I knew they’d see their mistake. Oh my gods, Az, I get to try again—I get to prove myself.”

Azriel cupped her face, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks as he gazed at her, devoured her with pride shining in his hazel eyes.

“I told you,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I told you that you deserved this.”

Her heart swelled at his words, at the warmth of his touch, at the way he looked at her—like she was everything.

She pulled back slightly, grinning up at him. “What would I do without you?”

His lips curled. “You’d be just fine,” he said, nudging her nose with his. “But lucky for you, you don’t have to find out.”

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. He met her eagerly, his hands gripping her waist as he deepened it, as he poured every ounce of pride and love into her.

When they finally pulled apart, he whispered, “You’re going to blow them away.”

Her smile was radiant. “You really think so?”

Azriel’s gaze darkened with something fierce, something possessive. “I know so.”

Y/N laughed again, burying her face in his chest as excitement and nerves thrummed in her veins.

She had another chance.

And this time, she wouldn’t waste it.

Y/N had been preparing for hours.

The moment the letter came, she had thrown herself into practice. Every movement, every turn, every step—she perfected them over and over again, determined to be flawless today. Azriel had been with her every second, his unwavering support wrapping around her like a second skin.

He had sat on the floor of their room, watching as she practiced in front of the mirror. His eyes followed every movement, sharp and analyzing, but also filled with something softer, something adoring. Whenever she faltered, his deep voice was there, murmuring reassurances, guiding her back into focus.

And when the nerves crept in, when she doubted herself for even a second, he pulled her into his arms, pressing soft kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her lips—reminding her exactly why she was meant for this.

Now, standing outside the grand doors of the theatre, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

The streets were quieter today, the usual rush of dancers missing from the entrance. It felt eerie, so different from the weeks before when the halls had been filled with hopefuls, all vying for the lead role.

Now, it was just her.

Azriel stood beside her, his hand gripping hers tightly, as if he could sense the battle raging within her.

"You’re ready," he murmured, his voice steady, unwavering.

She turned to him, searching his hazel eyes, seeking the same reassurance he had given her all morning. And she found it—found that unshakable belief in her, the absolute certainty that she could do this.

Her fingers tightened around his. “Stay here?”

He huffed a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You have to force me to leave your side, love.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest. She exhaled, stepping closer, pressing her forehead against his. His hands found her waist, his touch grounding.

“I’m nervous,” she admitted.

“I know.” He tilted her chin up, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. “But you are going to be breathtaking.”

She let out a shaky laugh, letting herself melt into him for just a moment longer before she whispered, “I love you.”

Azriel smiled, and it was the kind of smile that turned her bones to honey. “I love you more.”

With one final breath, she slipped from his arms and stepped inside.

The theatre was silent.

It was so empty, so wrong compared to the chaotic energy of before. Her footsteps echoed against the polished wooden floors as she ascended the stairs, pushing open the doors to the main audition room.

The five judges were already seated, waiting for her.

The moment she entered, their expressions changed.

Not cold, not disinterested like before. But polite. Respectful.

It was… weird.

She took a seat, smoothing her hands over her skirts, and studied them carefully.

The older woman who had scoffed at her before now gave her a small, almost nervous smile. Another judge—one of the males—could barely hold her gaze.

Her eyes flickered to the last judge, and she nearly snorted.

A large, deep bruise curled around the side of his neck, just barely peeking out from the collar of his jacket.

What in the world did he do to deserve that?

She shook the thought away. Focus.

“Miss Y/N,” the eldest judge said, clearing his throat. “We want to thank you for coming today. We deeply regret our misjudgment the last time and hope you will give us the honor of seeing you perform again.”

She tilted her head. Weirdly nice.

She didn’t let herself dwell on it, merely nodded and made her way to the center of the room.

The music started.

She closed her eyes, inhaled.

And then—

She moved.

The first few steps were careful, precise. But with each turn, each shift, she let herself go, let herself become the movement, let herself lose everything but the rhythm thrumming in her veins.

The room faded away.

There was no theatre, no judges, no pressure—just her and the music.

Her shadows twined around her, blending into her movements, wrapping around her like an extension of herself. They curled at her fingertips, twirled with her in perfect synchronization.

Her fears melted away.

Every insult, every rejection, every ounce of doubt—gone.

She was light, she was free.

And as she reached the final note, she landed in a perfect, graceful finish—chest heaving, heart pounding.

The silence that followed was deafening.

She opened her eyes, chest rising and falling.

The judges were staring.

Wide-eyed. Mouths slightly open.

Then—

“You… gods above,” one of the females breathed.

The eldest judge straightened in his chair. “That was phenomenal.”

Another nodded. “Extraordinary.”

“The way you move,” a female judge added, “it’s like the dance was made for you.”

She blinked at them, overwhelmed.

They kept talking—throwing praise after praise, compliments she had never expected to hear from them.

She could barely process it.

She had done it.

Azriel was waiting outside.

The moment she stepped through the doors, his shadows curled around her, his sharp eyes scanning her from head to toe.

His jaw tightened. “Did they say anything—”

She didn’t let him finish.

She launched herself at him.

He barely had time to react before she was in his arms, gripping his shoulders tightly as happy tears streamed down her face.

Az caught her with ease, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

“I got it,” she choked out.

He froze. Pulled back slightly. “What?”

A watery laugh bubbled past her lips. “I got it, Az.” She beamed up at him, breathless. “They said—there’s no need to wait. They’ve already reviewed everyone, and none came close to me. They said I was meant for this role, that I will represent Velaris and its art beautifully.”

Azriel’s chest rose sharply. His grip on her tightened.

Then—

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

And before she could say anything else, he kissed her.

Not soft, not hesitant—fierce, hungry, filled with pride and love and something utterly consuming.

She melted into him, smiling against his lips as his hands cradled her face, as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

When they finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers.

“I knew you would do it,” he whispered. “I knew it.”

She exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For always believing in me.”

Azriel let out a soft chuckle, pressing another kiss to her forehead before whispering, “Forever.”

With fingers intertwined, hearts still racing, they turned toward home—toward the future she had fought for.

#acotar #azriel #acotar x reader #azriel fluff #acotar fluff #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azzriel acotar #acotar imagine #acotar fanfic

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paigesluver · 3 days ago

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for me? | chapter_2

paige bueckers x fem reader

synopsis; you and paige share unspoken feelings for each other, resulting in an escalating tension that complicates your friendship and challenges your emotions

warnings; mostly fluff

hi hi! i wanted to have this out two months ago but i got so busy and then i went out of state,, but now i’m back and i finally finished writing and editing this chapter. i wanted to have it out before my birthday that’s in a few days, so i hope everyone enjoys it and let me know what you think!

chapter_1

The court buzzed with its usual energy. Sneakers screeched against the polished floor, basketballs echoed as they hit the hardwood, and the chatter of players filled the air. You stood just off to the side, camera in hand, capturing moments for the facility’s social media. The lens framed everything differently—the focus on laughter, teamwork, and the gritty intensity of practice.

Paige, ever the center of attention, was dribbling lazily across the court, joking with her teammates. You adjusted your camera and took a quick shot of her mid-laugh, the golden afternoon light filtering through the windows and catching the sharp curve of her jawline.

"What's the question of the day?" Paige called out, noticing your camera aimed her way.

You grinned, pulling up the notes app on your phone. "Alright, here we go. If you had to play one-on-one with any celebrity, who would it be, and why?"

The team perked up at the question, several of them shouting over one another. Paige, however, walked over to you, leaning in closer than necessary.

“Does it have to be basketball?” she asked, her teasing tone drawing your attention.

“You’d pick a celebrity for ping-pong or something?” you shot back, smiling.

Paige chuckled, crossing her arms. “Nah, just trying to figure out if I can pick you.”

Her words took you by surprise, your heart stuttering for half a beat. You couldn’t tell if she was flirting or just being playful. Before you could respond, she winked and turned back to the court, tossing the ball toward a teammate.

You shook off the moment and refocused, interviewing the rest of the players between their drills. KK wanted to challenge LeBron James "just to see if I’d score one point," Azzi picked Zendaya for the fun of it.

When you caught up with Paige again, she was standing under the hoop, her hands resting lightly on her hips. "Get your content yet, paparazzi?"

"Almost," you said, lifting the camera to snap a candid shot of her.

"You want something cooler, right?" Paige teased, motioning toward the hoop. “Follow me.”

Before you could protest, Paige grabbed the basketball and started shooting. She made every single basket, each motion fluid and precise, until she finally dunked one with ease. She turned to you, catching your eye as if to ask, Did you get that?

You laughed. "Alright, show-off. I think we’ve got plenty."

But Paige wasn’t ready to stop. “One more—come on, you’re up,” she said, jogging toward you with determination.

“What? I’m just here to take pictures,” you protested, but she waved off your excuse without hesitation.

Paige grabbed your hand, pulling you onto the court. The camera swung against your chest as you stumbled to keep up with her determined stride. “This is for the content,” she declared, her tone mock-serious but her grin giving her away.

“Sure it is,” you replied, rolling your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“Here, hand me that,” she said, gesturing to your camera. Before you could argue, she had slipped it around her neck like it was hers. “You take the shots, and I’ll handle the camera this time.”

“What? Paige, I’m terrible at this!” you protested, clutching the basketball she handed you.

She ignored your hesitation, already adjusting the camera settings. “Just try. I’ll make you look good,” she said with a wink, crouching slightly to frame you in the shot.

You sighed, lining up for an easy free throw, but your nerves buzzed under her watchful eye. The ball left your hands, arcing through the air before it clanged off the rim.

“Nice try,” she teased, snapping a picture of your reaction—a mix of frustration and amusement. “C’mon, try again.”

You dribbled the ball, determined this time, and took another shot. This one swished cleanly through the net, and Paige cheered, clicking the shutter as the ball dropped through.

“There we go!” she called, capturing the moment you turned back to her, triumphant and grinning.

For the next few minutes, Paige followed you around the court with your camera, snapping candid shots as you attempted layups, jump shots, and even a few half-court attempts just for fun. She directed you like a pro photographer, calling out instructions and encouraging you between shots.

“Alright, now go for a big one,” she said, stepping back to get the whole court in the frame.

You sprinted to the hoop, jumping higher than you thought possible and releasing the ball at the perfect moment. It sailed through the net, and when you landed, Paige was already laughing, the camera clicking nonstop.

“Got it,” she announced, flipping the screen to show you the photo—a mid-air action shot with your determination written all over your face.

“Not bad,” you admitted, still catching your breath.

Paige handed the camera back to you, a playful smirk on her face. “Told you I’d make you look good.”

As the session wound down, the two of you sat on the sidelines, reviewing the photos together. Each image told a little story: missed shots, triumphant victories, and moments of unfiltered joy. Paige leaned in close, pointing out her favorite ones. For a while, it felt like the rest of the world faded away—just the two of you, the court, and the warm glow of the setting sun.

“You’ve got a knack for this,” she said, tilting her head as she studied one of the shots. “Even my bad angles look good.”

“You don’t have a bad angle,” you replied, crossing your arms.

Paige turned to you with a knowing smirk. “Flattery won’t save you from a rematch.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” you shot back, reaching for the camera, but she held it just out of reach.

“I mean it,” she said, her tone softening. “You don’t just take pictures—you capture the best parts. The stories. People notice that.”

Her sincerity caught you off guard. It made you feel… seen, in a way you didn’t quite expect. You swallowed, uncertain how to respond. This wasn’t the usual playful banter. She wasn’t just teasing you.

“Thanks,” you murmured, fiddling with the camera strap.

Paige handed the camera back, her expression gentler now, the playful energy from before replaced by something more sincere. She studied you for a moment, as though weighing her words carefully. “Don’t sell yourself short,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. “You’ve got something special.”

The words hit you harder than expected. You’d heard her teasing and joking all evening, but this was different. There was no humor in her tone now, just a raw sincerity that made your chest feel a little fuller. You smiled, warmth spreading inside you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Paige gave a small nod, her eyes flickering with something almost unrecognizable for a moment, before she cracked a grin again. “Good,” she said, nudging your shoulder with her own in a casual but surprisingly tender gesture. “You should. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

Her smile was back to its usual mischievous charm, but there was something deeper in it now—something that made you realize how much she cared beneath all the banter. You felt a strange sense of connection in that moment, a bond forged not just through competitiveness, but through a mutual understanding that went beyond words.

You stood there for a moment, not sure what to say. The game had been fun, but these quiet, honest exchanges—this was the kind of thing you’d never expected from Paige. It felt like she was offering you a piece of her that wasn’t just about winning or being the best. It was about seeing something in you, even when you didn’t see it in yourself.

The gym had mostly emptied out, the sounds of bouncing balls and sneakers replaced by quiet chatter and fading footsteps. Her teammates left one by one, tossing casual goodbyes as they passed.

“Are you sticking around?” Paige asked once the gym fell silent.

You hesitated, glancing at your phone. The thought of leaving didn’t feel right. “I guess I could stay a little longer.”

“Good.” Paige grabbed the basketball, spinning it on her finger. “One-on-one. No cameras this time.”

You groaned, standing up reluctantly. “You’re just trying to embarrass me.”

“Nope,” she said, tossing you the ball. “I’m trying to teach you. Big difference.”

The game started lighthearted, with Paige sinking shots effortlessly while you fumbled to keep up. As the minutes passed, she slowed down, coaching you through your form between teasing remarks. You surprised yourself by scoring a few points—though it was clear she wasn’t playing at full capacity.

“Alright, final shot,” Paige announced after what felt like forever but was closer to twenty minutes. “Sink this, and I’ll admit you’re not half bad.”

“Great,” you muttered, lining up the shot. Taking a deep breath, you bent your knees and released the ball. It arced through the air and dropped cleanly through the net.

“Whoa,” Paige said, her eyebrows lifting in mock surprise. “Didn’t see that coming.”

You bowed dramatically. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

She laughed, the sound echoing in the empty gym. “Okay, maybe you’re not terrible.”

The moment lingered, the two of you standing on the court as the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon. Paige spun the basketball in her hands, her expression softening.

“You know,” she said quietly, “I wasn’t joking earlier.”

“About what?” you asked, though part of you already knew.

“Picking you. For the one-on-one thing.”

Her eyes met yours, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through her usual confidence. She stepped closer, placing her hands on your waist. Her thumbs brushed against you in slow, absentminded movements, her touch grounding and warm.

“It’s not every day you meet someone who makes you want to keep playing—even after practice is over.”

Your heart skipped, her soft sincerity leaving you momentarily speechless. The warmth of her hands on your waist made the world around you fade, and for a brief moment, it was just the two of you, standing in the quiet stillness of the gym.

Before you could find the words to respond, Paige’s familiar smirk returned, breaking the tension. “But don’t let it go to your head or anything. I still totally destroyed you out here.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

As the two of you finally headed toward the exit, Paige slung an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into a casual side hug. The warmth of her gesture lingered long after you’d parted ways, and as you flipped through the photos that night, one thought stayed with you: Maybe some moments were too good to just capture—they were meant to be lived.

A few days had passed since that one-on-one game, but Paige’s words still lingered in your mind. You’ve got something special. It had caught you off guard—Paige was usually all about competition, teasing, and pushing limits. But that night, her tone had held something deeper, something quieter. Beneath the playful banter, there had been a flicker of sincerity that made you stop and think.

Shaking off the thought, you refocused on the present. Your phone buzzed, pulling you back. A message from Kaia: art gallery tonight. be there at 7?

A small smile tugged at your lips. After the intensity of the gym, the invitation felt like a breath of fresh air. Kaia had a way of pulling you out of your own head, reminding you that not everything had to be a competition.

The gallery was tucked into a quiet corner of the city, a world away from the echo of bouncing basketballs. Inside, the scent of fresh paint mingled with the murmur of conversation, soft lighting casting gentle shadows on the walls. Kaia stood near a painting, brow furrowed in thought.

“You’ve been here long?” you asked, stepping beside her.

Kaia turned, her expression brightening as she met your gaze. “Just got here,” she said, but there was something thoughtful in the way her eyes lingered on the painting before her. She gestured toward the abstract piece—a chaotic mix of reds and blues, bold strokes clashing like two forces refusing to yield. “What do you think of this one?”

You tilted your head, letting your gaze trace the sharp edges of color, the way the hues bled into one another yet never fully merged. “Hmm. Fire and water battling for dominance?”

Kaia’s lips curved into a slow smile before she let out a small laugh, light and effortless. “I like that. A constant struggle—never quite winning, never quite losing.” She crossed her arms, considering the piece again. “I guess it’s all about perspective. Maybe they’re not fighting. Maybe they’re learning how to exist together.”

Something about the way she said it made you pause. You glanced at her, but she had already moved on to the next painting, lost in thought. Without thinking, you followed.

The gallery’s atmosphere wrapped around you like a quiet hum—soft conversations blending with the distant clinking of wine glasses, the scent of fresh paint hanging in the air. As you wandered through the exhibit, the world outside—work, exhaustion, Paige—seemed to loosen its grip on you.

At one point, you sighed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I feel like I’m just... treading water, you know?”

Kaia slowed her steps and turned slightly, her gaze searching yours. She didn’t rush to respond. Instead, she let the moment settle between you, as if making space for the weight of your words.

“You don’t have to figure it all out at once,” she said finally, her voice soft but sure. “Sometimes, the best thing you can do is take a step back. Breathe.”

Her words settled into you, quiet but grounding. A simple truth, one you hadn’t let yourself accept until now. Not everything had to be about the next move or the next win. Sometimes, it was enough just to be here.

You both stopped in front of a display of sculptures, their twisted forms casting long, distorted shadows under the dim lighting. Kaia reached out, tracing the curve of one with her fingertips, her expression unreadable.

“People aren’t always easy to figure out either,” she murmured. “It’s about the layers, even when the full picture isn’t clear.”

The way she said it made you wonder if she was talking about more than just the art.

Her words lingered longer than you expected, settling into the quiet spaces of your mind.

By the time you reached the exit, the weight of the week had lifted, replaced by something easier, lighter. Kaia turned to you with a grin. “This was fun. Let’s do it again soon.”

You smiled, the night’s quiet warmth settling into your chest. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

As you stepped into the cool night air, your thoughts flickered back to Paige—the teasing, the tension, the way she’d looked at you that night. Her words had lingered in ways you hadn’t expected.

But standing here, beside Kaia, it didn’t feel as heavy.

The drive home was quiet, the kind of stillness that settled in after a good night—one that didn’t demand anything from you. The city lights blurred past your windows as SZA filled the car, something soft, something easy.

Then your dashboard screen lit up, cutting through the dark.

The contact name on the screen made your chest tighten.

pb5⭐️💜

Your music faded as the call rang through the car speakers. For a second, you just stared at it, your fingers hovering over the steering wheel. Then, before you could think too much about it, you hit the answer button.

“Hey,” you said, your voice more uncertain than you wanted it to be.

There was a pause, then Paige’s voice came through, low and familiar. “Hey. Are you busy?”

You glanced at the road ahead, your grip tightening slightly. “Uh, just driving home. What’s up?”

Another pause, just long enough to make you wonder why she was calling.

“I don’t know. Just felt like talking to you.”

Something in her voice made your pulse skip, a quiet thread of something unsaid weaving between the words.

The city stretched out ahead of you, the road open, the night still.

And just like that, Kaia’s steady presence, her grounding energy, faded into the background.

Because Paige was here now. And she had your full attention.

You tightened your grip on the steering wheel, the steady thrum of the tires against the pavement barely registering beneath the sound of Paige’s voice.

“You just felt like talking?” you repeated, shifting in your seat.

There was a pause, then a quiet exhale, almost like a laugh. “Yeah. Weird, right?”

A little. Paige wasn’t the type to call for no reason.

You kept your eyes on the road, the city lights streaking past in a blur. “What’s up?”

Another pause. This one stretched longer.

“That afternoon. After practice.”

Your stomach dipped.

You knew exactly what she meant.

“What about it?”

There was movement on the other end, like she was shifting, maybe leaning against something. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. “I meant what I said.”

Your fingers flexed against the wheel.

You’ve got something special.

The words had caught you off guard then, and now—now they felt like they carried an even deeper weight.

“I know you did,” you admitted.

Paige let out another breath, softer this time. “I keep thinking about it.”

Your grip on the wheel tightened. “Paige…”

“I don’t know why I’m bringing this up now,” she cut in before you could say anything else. “I just—do you ever think about it?”

A car passed in the opposite lane, its headlights flashing across your dashboard before fading into the distance.

You could lie. Say no. Say it hadn’t stuck with you the way it clearly had with her.

But it had.

You exhaled, running your tongue over your teeth. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I think about it.”

There was a long pause, and this time, it wasn’t just a silence—it was thick, like the air before a storm. You could almost feel her weighing your words, and you weren’t sure if you wanted her to speak or if you just wanted to keep that silence between you.

“Good.”

The word was soft, simple, but it landed heavy.

“Paige, what do you mean by that?” You asked, needing to know. But she didn’t answer. Neither of you spoke, the silence stretching on between you. You were both standing at the edge of something you weren’t sure you were ready to define.

And still, neither of you hung up.

After you got home, you spent an hour working on projects, phone next to you as you talked to Paige. The conversation flowed easily, but eventually, you decided to take a break. You ran a bath to unwind, letting the warm water ease the tension from your muscles.

Once you were done, you changed into your pajamas, taking your time with your skincare routine. When you finally crawled into bed, you turned on XO, Kitty—a soft distraction to help you wind down. By the time you'd watched a few episodes, sleep started to pull at you, and you drifted off.

A few hours later, your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up in the dark room. It was Paige. Confused, you answered the call.

“Hey, is everything okay?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep.

Paige’s voice came through, soft but steady. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just... wanted to see you.”

You rubbed your eyes, trying to clear the fog. “Now?”

You pulled the phone away from your ear for a second to check the time: 2:10 AM. You weren’t sure what to make of this, but you felt a flicker of curiosity.

“Yeah, now,” she said without hesitation.

“Okay,” you replied, still half-sleeping but willing to go along with it. “Where do you want to go?”

“I’ll just come to you,” she said, and you could hear the smile in her voice.

You stayed on the phone with her as she made her way to your apartment, the soft sounds of the night outside filtering through. It was oddly comforting, her voice in your ear as she drove.

Soon enough, she let you know she was downstairs. You used your app to let her into the garage and up to the elevator. A few minutes later, she said, “I’m walking to your door.”

You jumped up and opened the door before she had a chance to knock. She walked in, wrapped in a hoodie and pajama pants, looking a little out of place but still somehow perfect in the moment. You locked the door behind her.

“Hi,” you said, your voice still carrying the warmth of sleep.

“Hi, pretty,” she responded, and before you could say anything else, she wrapped her arms around you. You instinctively pressed your face into her chest, arms going around her.

“Mmm, you’re warm,” you mumbled, feeling the heat of her body seep into yours.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said softly. “I just really wanted to see you.”

You looked up at her, noticing her hair was in a low bun and she was wearing her purple glasses. You couldn’t help but smile at how cute she looked. “And you brought me my favorite ice cream?”

Paige grinned, holding up a Cold Stone bag. She reached inside, pulling out a container of French vanilla with caramel. “I did,” she said, her eyes sparkling with playful confidence. “I know you can’t resist.”

You laughed, surprised and amused. “That is very true,” you replied, taking the ice cream from her.

She chuckled, watching you take a bite before stepping back, only long enough to kick off her slides and then pulling you with her as she walked toward your bedroom. Still holding onto you, she shed her hoodie and dropped it on the bed, revealing a plain tee underneath. She looked at you with a knowing grin.

“Lift your arms,” she said.

You complied without question, and she slipped her hoodie onto you, the fabric big and warm.

“You look adorable,” she said, and before you could react, she grabbed her phone and snapped a picture of you, pouting slightly.

You climbed back into bed, the sheets cool against your skin. Paige followed, curling up beside you. You yawned, and she immediately apologized.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she murmured, her fingers brushing through your hair.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, settling against her. “Why’d you want to see me?”

“I don’t really know,” she admitted softly. “I just wanted to be near you.”

Her words hit something deep within you, and you moved closer to her, your head resting on her chest. She wrapped her arms around you, holding you tight.

As you looked up at her, her eyes were focused on your lips. You couldn’t help the smirk that formed.

“If you want to make out with me, just ask,” you said, teasing. “I’ll say yes.”

Paige chuckled, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. “Relax,” she said, dragging the word out, laughter dancing in her voice. "You're cute, but relax."

“You know it’s true,” you said, a playful grin spreading across your face. “Why else would you want to see me at this time?”

Paige smirked, rolling her eyes but with a glint of amusement in them. "Maybe I missed you," she replied casually, reaching for the remote. She flicked on Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, then glanced back at you. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Not really,” you said, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “I know you're obsessed with me. You brought me my favorite ice cream.”

Paige chuckled, leaning back on the bed, glancing at you with a playful, almost teasing expression. "Guilty," she said, her voice light. "But if that makes me obsessed, then maybe I'm okay with it."

You couldn’t help but grin at her playful confidence. You took another spoonful of ice cream, feeding Paige a bite, going back and forth until it was gone. There was a little bit of ice cream on the side of her lips, so you reached up and kissed her softly, smiling.

"Look who's kissing who now," she teased, her eyes twinkling.

You rolled your eyes, grinning. "How come you didn’t get your own ice cream?" you asked.

"I knew you were gonna share with me, pretty girl," she replied, her tone warm and playful.

You put the empty container back in the bag and settled back into bed, resuming the movie. Before long, you felt your eyelids grow heavy, and despite the movie still playing, sleep overtook you. Paige’s soft fingers continued to trace gentle shapes against your skin as you drifted off.

It wasn’t long after you had fallen asleep that you felt her press a soft kiss to your forehead. The TV clicked off, and she snuggled in close beside you, her warmth wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Soon, her breathing became steady, and she drifted off to sleep as well, the two of you wrapped in peaceful silence.

Hours later, you woke up to the warmth of arms wrapped around you. For a moment, you were still half asleep, not sure where you were, but the softness of the sheets and the comforting pressure against your back felt familiar. Then it all came rushing back—Paige had come over in the middle of the night, and at some point, she had spooned you, her body pressed against yours as you both drifted off to sleep.

You smiled gently, feeling the warmth of her breath on the back of your neck as you shifted slightly in her embrace. The night had been a comforting blur, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of calm and contentment knowing Paige was there with you. Her arms were wrapped securely around you, the steady pressure grounding you in the moment.

Paige stirred, her breath brushing over your neck as she adjusted her position, pulling you closer. It felt completely right, like everything was exactly as it should be. You closed your eyes, letting the warmth between you settle you into a peaceful half-sleep.

After a moment, Paige shifted again, fully waking. Her eyes fluttered open, locking with yours as she took in the quiet scene. For a few seconds, you both remained tangled in the sheets, still caught in the early hours of the morning.

"Morning," she whispered softly, her voice husky from sleep.

"Morning," you replied, your voice still thick with drowsiness.

She gave you a sleepy smile before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, pulling you even closer. You exhaled a satisfied sigh, knowing that for now, there was no place you'd rather be.

#paigesluver #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x fem reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers x female reader #uconn huskies #wlw fiction #wlw

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amnmesias · 2 days ago

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐞

word count: 3.4k

summary: When Dumbledore calls for an emergency order meeting, everyone gathers expecting bad news, what they encounter is far more surprising.

tags: fem!reader with long hair. barty has a twin sister so read at your own risk, possible poly!wolfstar if you squint. reader is a little crazy but are we surprised. lily experiences some sexual awakenings. rosekiller mention, and platonic regulus. some violence is mentioned but not specified. slight black brothers angst.

a/n: hi… is this anything? i was bored so i whipped this out real quick. could have a bonus part, maybe if my hyperfixation for war pigs by black sabbath returns, no promises. it was fun though! enjoy! xx

…

“What do you think this is about?”

Sirius exhaled deeply, smoke mixing up with vapor as he looked up, no-doubtedly channeling all his strength to appear nonchalant, but James knew better, he was sure he could very well feel Sirius’ heart beating hard if he were to place a hand on his chest.

“Who knows,” He shrugged, then cleared his throat to try and swallow the pessimistic tone in his voice. “Doubt it’s a bad thing, I reckon, seeing everyone’s so calm, the old man included.”

“That old man was your headmaster not so long ago, Sirius.” Chided Lily as she stepped out, Remus in toe.

Sirius wordlessly passed Remus his cig, he took it with nimble fingers, a well practiced routine, “Dumbledore said we must head in.” Said Remus, a slight edge to his tone.

James and Lily shared a look, “You don’t think this is about…?”

“Doubt it, lovie, hardly anyone knows.” James butted in immediately, but his eyes scanned their surroundings anyway. “Come on.”

Remus nodded and put the cigarette down, ignoring Sirius’ protests, the young man rolled his eyes and pulled him by his jacket’s lapel. The pair trailed in behind James and Lily, eyes immediately falling on the group as they settled around. Despite the reason for the emergency being kept under wraps, there was an air of both hopefulness and anxiety in the room.

Dumbledore stood up, “I am terribly sorry if the tone of the call to meet has caused concern, I can assure everyone in this room that the themes discussed today will be far from cause of worry.”

“Then why did you say it was an emergency?” Sirius asked, never shy to beat around the bush. Remus passed a hand over his face in frustration. “I’m not quite sure the urgency was necessary, then.”

“Mr. Black not every emergency has to be a symptom of bad news. However, it is of utmost importance that we discuss the information I’ve been given today.”

“Information?” Marlene echoed, her hand unconsciously reaching to her partner’s in search of comfort.

“And who gave it to you?” Came one of the Prewett twin’s voices from the other end.

“Yes, how do you know we can trust this person?” Sirius demanded then, his patience running thin as a response to the current war. “How do you know this information is even remotely accurate?”

Dumbledore smiled like he had expected the question, Sirius’ insides squirmed with uneasiness. “Glad you asked, my boy.”

McGonagall stood up, face impassive as usual, but her lip curled in a way that conveyed nervousness. A silent conversation passed between the two professors, the tension in the room thickened as the silence progressed. Lily’s hold on James’ hand got tighter to the point of imprinting her own engagement gem on her skin.

“Oh for the love of—”

“Sirius.”

“Mr. Black,” Started Dumbledore, his calm eyes meeting Sirius’ fiery ones. “I was contacted by a rather important member of our, ah, well, foes… With information that could be vital for our cause.”

“Foes?” Repeated Remus in a breath, almost like he had misunderstood. His eyes met with James, gazes filled with worry. “You mean…?”

“Precisely, Mr. Lupin,” McGonagall continued, her voice taking a tight tone as she addressed him, then everyone in the room. “It appears things in Riddle’s end have become rather tense. Many of his followers have fled the country, turning their backs on the war entirely.”

“He’s getting weak.” A young Kingsley Shacklebolt supplied, in hopes of easing the stress-filled room. His posture straightened as eyes fell on him. “He’s running out of both strength and soldiers.”

“Soldiers?” Repeated James, finally able to find his voice. The group looked at each other in alert as the faint sound of voices muffled somewhere outside.

“You heard right, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore nodded, and inhaled as if preparing himself to break out the news. “It appears Riddle himself has trusted this information to someone very high in his barracks, what he does not know, however, is that this person has been secretly working for me all this time.”

The man turned to Sirius, who felt the air getting sucked out of his lungs at the attention, and as an afterthought, the insinuation.

“Surely you don’t mean–”

Dumbledore let out a chuckle, “No, Mr. Black, I’m not insinuating that it’s you, although… you know this person very well, I’d say.”

Sirius’ eyes scanned his friends, and a few offended protests erupted in the room. Wands and fingers then pointed at each other, eyes looking for the supposed traitor or suspect among them. McGonagall exhaled as she fixed her glasses, the sight a crude reminder that, despite what she tried to tell herself, they were all still children. Children that not long ago had exams and assignments to worry about.

“Oi, we haven’t even gotten in and they’re already at it with each other,” Came a voice from the door, and the group erupted in chaos.

“What the fuck– Is this how you treat newcomers? No wonder you’re running low on personnel.” You exclaimed, hands raised in surrender.

Sirius’ eyebrows relaxed slightly as his brain processed the faces in front of him, then, “Regulus?!”

“Sirius.” Drawled Regulus as greeting.

“Welcome Mr. Black,” Dumbledore said then, eager to get started on the meeting before it could get out of his hands. “Mr. and Ms. Crouch.” He nodded to your brother then you.

“Albus,” Barty smiled, a wicked thing that had almost everyone in the room raising their wands again. “Could you stop with that? We come in peace.”

Sirius let out a shaky breath, then turned to his old headmaster, “What’s the meaning of this? Are you mad?”

“Sirius!” Lily gasped, but her eyes were equally filled with dread.

“Yeah, Black, don’t talk to the man like that.” You drawled, ringed fingers distractedly fiddling with your wand.

“Look at him, goes off to grow his hair out and forgets all about manners.” Barty added, shaking his head with faux disappointment.

“What’s happening?” Muttered Remus under his breath, fingers massaging at his temples.

“Forgive me for coming earlier than we discussed, I could barely handle these two and their loathsome bickering.” Regulus spoke, his tone bored as he ignored your dramatic reactions.

“It’s quite alright. We were about to begin. Please, take a seat–”

“Take a seat?!” James cried out, voice taunt with nerves as his eyes scanned the trio before him. “Professor, you don’t mean they–”

“How do you lot get things done when you never let the man speak?” You mused out loud, James turned to you with a frown.

“As Professor Dumbledore was saying,” Began McGonagall, professor reflexes begging her to intervene before the conversation could turn into a full quarrel. Another reminder of how young all of you truly were. “Mr. Black has come with information that could potentially put an end to this tragic war.”

“Mr. Black?” Dumbledore turned to Regulus, who nodded and turned to the room with a blank expression. “Care to share your findings with the rest of your peers?”

“Yes,” He nodded. “It appears Voldemort has opted to experiment with the dark arts in order to gain more power. He has managed to channel very ancient magic to split his soul in six to be immortal, he created six horcruxes that have been hidden throughout Britain.”

“Horcruxes?”

Barty groaned with annoyance, hand reaching for his pocket, “Lupin you wound me! I thought you were the smart one in this bunch. Now you’ve lost me money.” He angrily placed a few galleons in your waiting hand.

“Serves you damn right for arguing without basis.” You said with a smile, pocketing the coins inside your own leather coat. Regulus glared at you, “Terribly sorry, dear Reggie, you may proceed.”

“Right…” Regulus cleared his throat, “To answer your question, Remus, Horcruxes are objects with very dark, very powerful magic that a soul can attach to, they’re practically fragments of the person’s soul that helps them become immortal.”

“I know that, but… don’t you need to… kill people to make Horcruxes?”

The room fell silent as the words slipped past Remus’ lips. Sirius, apparently, had enough with the silence and pleasantries, and stood from his own chair.

“And how could you possibly know all this, Regulus?”

“Well, I do read, for starters.” He supplied, the tone in his voice not at all trying to hide his boredom. “And he told me this himself and, well… ” A pause, both you and Barty turned to him with slightly pinched eyebrows, “I’ve found most of them.”

By the looks on your and Barty’s faces, these news were as new to you than they were to the rest of the order. Regulus cleared his throat, then nudged you into action.

“The locket,” He mumbled, eyes slightly nervous as he nudged you a second time.

You frowned. “I thought it was a gift?”

“For the love of– Give me the locket.”

You wordlessly took it off, pretty, long hair cascading behind the chain as you handed it to him. Regulus scanned it silently, then reached to place it in Dumbledore’s hand.

“I assume this is one of them?” The man asked, eyes curiously scanning the artifact. Regulus nodded. “Very well. And where are the rest of these fragments?”

“One of them is the snake, the one that seems to accompany him whenever he goes. The other two are personal family heirlooms of Voldemort himself; a diary and a ring. The other two I don’t know where they are, being known as myths around the wizarding world… Helga Hufflepuff’s cup and Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem–”

“Oh, fuck,” Muttered Barty under his breath, his eyes met yours and you both erupted in quiet laugher. A silent joke passing between you, ignorant to the tense atmosphere. “Sorry, Reg, Consider it done. That one.”

“What?” Spat Regulus, fully turning to face you both. “What do you mean by done, Barty?”

“We might or might’ve not have the diadem in our possession.” You said breezily.

When it seemed none of you had any plans to elaborate, Remus spoke, “Why do you have…?” He trailed off, eyes skimming between you and your brother.

You cleared your throat and very pointedly tried to not look at Dumbledore as you spoke, “We… sort of stole it? From that weird room in Hogwarts?”

“Yeah, the one that just comes and goes whenever it likes.” Barty nodded, face bored as he twirled his wand between his fingers.

“The Room of Requirement, you mean, Mr. Crouch?”

“That’s the one. Oi, that’s a rather unoriginal name, don’t you think?”

“Why did you steal it?” Lily asked, a hidden glint of curiousness in her eyes. She flushed lightly when you met her gaze, your own eyes wide and intimidating, and if she dared to look further, a little manic as well. “You knew it was a Horcrux?

“Nah, it was her birthday and the room was just… there. So we took it.”

“Aren’t you born on the same day?” Remus frowned, words laced with fascination at the Crouch twins.

“Count on Barty to leave my gift for the last moment,” You rolled your eyes, then turned to both Barty and Regulus. “Honestly with you two, giving me someone’s shabby soul remains as presents.”

“How do we find the Cup, then?” Sirius asked, eager to get it over with. Regulus looked at him with a bit of hopefulness, “I thought no wizard has ever seen it?”

“He gave it to Bellatrix for safekeeping, we don’t know yet where she might have hidden it.”

“Right, since when do we trust death eaters?” Asked the other Prewett twin, quiet muffled voices echoed in affirmation.

“I wouldn’t–” James started, but the sound of Sirius’ scoff silenced him almost immediately.

“What did you just call him, Prewett?”

“Oh, please, Sirius.” Gideon snorted bitterly, “I just repeated what you’ve been saying at every meeting, even at Hogwarts if I remember correctly.”

Regulus looked down, though that wasn’t new to him, the fact that his brother held certain resentment towards him throughout their years at Hogwarts was something that kept him up at night, even up to that point when family rivalry was decidedly not one of their top priorities. A hand came into his view, you discreetly reached and squeezed his hand in support.

“I’m not saying you have to trust me right away, but… I want to help.” Regulus said, ending the possible fight between his brother and Gideon. “I’m risking a lot, blowing my cover by even being here.”

“Cover?” Echoed Sirius, his eyes meeting Regulus‘, who in return shrugged noncommittally.

“Mr. Black has been helping me since his own days at Hogwarts, providing me with intel from his own family that has been extremely helpful for the order.” Dumbledore said, sensing Sirius’ inner turmoil. The room fell silent as they scanned Regulus and his companions. “Mr. and Ms. Crouch have also been eager to help the cause, working alongside Alastor Moody to target Death-eaters that could give us information on their future plans.”

James spluttered, “Moody knew about this?”

“I call bullshit, he’s been training me all day and night, when did he find time to do all that?” Sirius inquired, eyes not leaving yours as he scanned your stance.

You smirked, “You know, Sirius, contrary to what you’ve been told, the world does not revolve around you.”

“Why you little–”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Butted in Remus, immediately feeling his boyfriend getting agitated, he feared Sirius would say something he would later regret. “And what’s the course of action, then?”

“If it helps, I overheard your loony cousin say she had important matters to attend to at Gringotts, something about maximum security.” You added, your playful eyes not leaving Sirius’, as if riling him up was your own personal entertainment. “That must be the Cup, we reckon.”

“Well… There’s that.” Nodded Regulus, apparently springing into action now that the attention wasn’t fully on doubting him. “I suppose our next course of action is to find a way to destroy them, before he tries to make another.”

“Basilisk venom.” Barty said, reaching inside his pocket for a lighter.

“Or fiendfyre.” You added nonchalantly as you placed a cig between your lips, Barty wordlessly passed you the lighter. “We could use the killing curse on the snake, too.”

“Oi, don’t do that.” James frowned as you exhaled, your lips curling in a smirk between the cigarette. “There’s–”

“James.” Lily chided quietly, a gentle hand around the crook of his elbow. “It’s okay,”

You raised an eyebrow, “Were we not supposed to smoke here?” You asked, your eyes boredly scanned the faces in the room. “I thought this was a childless meeting point?”

“Well, you could always ask,” Remus said, a slight frown to his eyebrows as he studied you. You rolled your eyes and passed the lighter back to your brother.

“Like you lot are such prudes, don’t think we never noticed your nicotine reek back at school.”

Barty laughed between his own cig, then pointed at a speechless Remus. “Oi, be nice to my sister, Lupin. She fabulously killed your maker.”

Chaos ensued once again.

“Greyback is dead?!”

“You killed Greyback?”

“Fabulous is not the word I’d use, it was an accident.” You frowned at your brother, who shrugged noncommittally. “Also, why do you sound so surprised, Sirius, when we have the same mentor?”

“How do you kill a savage dark creature by accident?” Mused Marlene, her own posture more relaxed after she deemed you three as non threatening.

At this, you seemed to turn a little sheepish. “Not my fault the fool walked in the moment I casted a fiendfyre, serves him right though, he was a prejudiced, misogynistic dipshit.” You inhaled sharply, your eyes accidentally meeting Remus’ troubled gaze by accident. “My apologies, if I beat you to it.”

Remus spluttered, “I wasn’t planning–”

“It seems we keep getting off topic, which is why I think it’s best to meet up at location 12 two nights from today to finish discussing this.” Dumbledore said, now fully standing up, McGonagall sighed exasperatedly. He turned to you and your brother. “Do try to bring that diadem of yours for inspection, then we can decide our best plan to begin the destruction of the Horcruxes.”

Neither professor stayed behind to wait for any response from any of you, taking your silence as cue to Apparate away and towards their own business, it seemed. The meeting was over before anyone could make more comments, and without any responsible adult there to interfere, more questions flew here and there towards Regulus and the twins.

“Oh, Merlin’s saggy balls, aren’t you a welcoming bunch?” Barty rolled his eyes, blowing some smoke from the corner of his lips. “No, we are not aurors. No, we did not receive the Dark Mark contrary to popular belief. No, neither Evan nor Pandora are part of these groups. No, lesser Black, I am sadly taken and happily engaged, however my lovely treasured sister here is very much single if you still want to have gorgeous Crouch pups.”

“I don’t have any interest in you or your vicious sister, Junior.” Sirius seethed, frowning as if the insinuation alone made him angry, no one missed the way he blushed. You rolled your eyes.

“You don’t?” Barty repeated, a pierced eyebrow raised in bemusement. His eyes moved between him and Remus, “Then quit ogling her, you deviants. You too, Evans, don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Lily gasped in surprise, but her flushed cheeks gave her away immediately. You winked in her direction, “I am not ogling anyone! I was just… just… Junior! I will hex you.”

“Do not worry your pretty little head, Evans. I’d gladly snog the daylights out of you, I have no preferences.” You shrugged, your own pierced eyebrow irked in a playful matter.

“You did not just hit on my wife in front of me, Crouch.” Shrieked James, in both surprise and offense.

You moved your head from side to side, a blasé attitude in your movements as you gave your cig a last puff. “Seeing I haven’t seen anything about a Potter wedding on the Daily Prophet, it’s safe to assume I can still steal your fiancé away, Potter.”

“Are you two done antagonizing everyone in this room?” Drawled Regulus, standing up from his own chair with the air of the pureblood heir he was raised to be. Barty and you raised your hands in surrender. His eyes met Sirius’, whose own eyes softened. “I suppose we will be seeing all of you soon.”

Sirius cleared his throat, “If you’re serious about helping us, then, of course.”

“Unlike you Sirius, I do keep my word.”

Something passed between them, both Black brothers creaking with intense electricity, James stood up in reflex in support towards Sirius.

Barty whistled. “I was beginning to wonder where dear old Reggie had gone.” He clapped his thighs and stood up, you followed his movements. Both standing behind Regulus much like James had done to Sirius, a threatening showcase of your support to the younger Black. “I’d really like to say it was a pleasure but seeing you lot have been nothing but incredibly rude to us, we are taking our wonderful company elsewhere.”

You let Regulus pull you by the sleeve towards the door, a slight bounce to your step as you trailed behind Regulus and Barty, who had tried pocketing a random vase from the entryway, had it not been by Regulus who slapped his hand away. A snort left your lips and you looked behind your shoulder, basking in the different reactions among your old schoolmates.

“Oh,” You turned quickly, a wicked smile on your face as you addressed Lily, “Congratulations, hopefully it’s a girl.” The red-head opened her mouth in shock, but it was James who tried marching to you.

“Mind your sodding business,” He spat, seemingly done with your antagonistic tendencies.

You smirked. “Well, try to be less obvious about it, then.” James’ lips parted in surprise, so did Remus’ who had been holding him back, you took this in stride. “Ow, Lupin, aren’t you a sweetheart? Thinking I couldn’t handle Potter in a duel? Don’t worry, lover boy, you’ll have your chance, I know how you just adore having your lovers’ quarrel.” Your eyes moved to Sirius, who flushed immediately.

“Treasure, come on. I told Evan I’d be home by 10!” Barty whined, and dragged you all the way out, the door shutting behind you.

A silence lingered, then came James’ shocked exhale. “What the fuck was that?”

“Are the rest of the meetings going to be like this?” Asked Marlene from her own spot, meeting Dorcas’ own shocked expression.

Both Sirius and Remus looked at each other over the heads of the rest of the members, a silent conversation passed between them as they both had realized something about themselves when it came to you.

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umi-adxhira · 19 hours ago

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ᝰ.ᐟ SERENITY | 020

FANDOM: TWTPTFLOB

WARNINGS: Fontaine, Lante, Dion, a severed head

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Last post of today, hope you guys enjoy it

◄ PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ►

It’s been two days since Dion came back, and you’re sitting in your room, eating some bread with soup. The doctor advised you not to eat solid food such as bread, but having it with a liquid to soften it would be okay.

You eat by yourself, content with the quaint atmosphere of the room. The bread with soup is good, much more savory than the soup you’re familiar with in your world. It must be due to the lack of exotic spices. If they can’t make it flavorful, then making it rich and savory is the next best thing.

The door to your room creaks open. You don’t need to look up to know who it is.

Lante stands over your small form, his presence as oppressive as ever. He smokes a cigar, the acrid scent stinging your nose. He takes a long drag before speaking.

"Since you're injured, you’ll have to make up for it later. I expect overtime. And when you’re back on your feet, you better doll yourself up properly. Consider it an apology for the inconvenience."

He turns to leave, then mutters under his breath, "Last time someone pulls a stunt like that." Your bread halts halfway to your mouth. Stunt?

"What do you mean?" you ask.

Lante glances at you over his shoulder, his expression one of mild irritation. "Fontaine's been dead for two days. His head's missing, but I'd recognize that stupid brat’s body anywhere."

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving you in silence.

Your stomach churns. The soup suddenly tastes like ash. Fontaine is dead. You have no doubt who did it.

Dion.

The blood on his cheek that morning. His calm, unbothered demeanor. He didn’t even hesitate, I bet. That makes me feel a lot better. One problem is gone, but I’d be an idiot to think that Fontaine is the only Agriche to pull off a stunt like that.

You push your half-empty bowl away, fingers curling over the edge of the wooden tray. I should eat. I won’t heal if I don’t. But the thought of swallowing anything now makes your throat close up.

Your thoughts scatter when Roxana enters, carrying fresh bandages, a basin full of water, and a towel. She says nothing as you set your food aside and pull the blanket off your body. The cold air makes you shiver.

She starts with your head, unwrapping the old bandages carefully, her fingers firm yet gentle. She dips the towel into the water, squeezing out the excess before dabbing at the wound. The water stings, sending a sharp jolt through your skull, but you don’t flinch. It’s better than infection.

She works in silence, her touch precise, pressing fresh gauze against your temple before securing it with clean bandages. Moving to your arms, she peels away the old wrappings, revealing healing bruises and shallow cuts. She cleans each wound methodically, replacing the bandages with practiced ease. Your legs are next - she lifts them gently, mindful of your sore muscles, fingers brushing against sensitive skin as she works.

By the time she reaches your torso, you’re trembling slightly, not from pain but from the sheer exposure. She unwinds the final layer of bandages, revealing the deep gash across your ribs. The cool air prickles against it, but Roxana says nothing. She only dips the towel again, pressing it firmly against the wound to clean away the dried blood.

The basin is now dark with bloodied water, the scent of iron thick in the air. She wraps the final bandage tightly, securing it with a knot before gathering the soiled wrappings and the basin. She turns toward the door, only to pause when it creaks open once more.

The door opens again. You don’t need to turn to know who it is this time either.

Dion steps in, a medium-sized box in his hands, wrapped with a red bow - the same shade as his eyes. Roxana stops, scowling at him before shoving past and leaving without another word.

Now, it’s just you and Dion.

He walks closer, setting the box beside you. You glance at him, searching his face for anything. He meets your gaze without hesitation, but he says nothing.

He’s watching me. The silence stretches between you both, thick and unspoken. You hesitate before reaching for the box. “You brought me something?” you ask, your tone teasing, though there’s an edge to it. Why does it feel so heavy?

Dion doesn’t respond. He only tilts his head slightly, watching you expectantly. You tug at the bow, undoing the knot, then lift the lid.

Inside, staring back at you, is a severed head.

Fontaine’s head.

Your breath catches. The world tilts.

The face is pale, slack with death. Blood stains his hair and the edges of his severed neck, dried and dark. His lifeless eyes remain half-open, a frozen expression of surprise barely etched onto his face. Flowers adorn the edge of the box, along with a single rose in the hole of his gouged eye. It’s an ugly sight to see, but something about it…

The silence is deafening.

Your hands tremble, but you don’t drop the box. You can’t move, can’t breathe.

Dion doesn’t say a word. He only watches.

You suck in a breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. He watches you with something unreadable in his crimson eyes, head tilted slightly, as if assessing your reaction. There is no remorse. No regret.

Your stomach churns violently, but you swallow it down. He did this for me. Didn’t he?

How sweet.

You exhale, pushing the lid back onto the box, blocking out the gruesome sight. It doesn’t erase the image from your mind, though. Fontaine's dead eye is seared into your thoughts.

Dion shifts closer, his presence suffocating in its intensity. His fingers brush against your cheek, cold and deliberate. He lingers there, his touch featherlight, testing.

Your pulse stutters. You should pull away. You don’t.

His lips barely part, his voice a whisper. "Afraid?"

You swallow, shaking your head. "No."

His fingers trail lower, his touch ghosting down your jawline before he pulls away.

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips - something dark, something satisfied.

"Good."

The room feels smaller. The air between you charged with something unspoken. You don’t have an answer, but one thing is clear - Dion did this for you. He has no intention of leaving.

And now, neither do you.

TAGLIST: @evaxmisu, @00hellohello00, @welpthisisboring, @hsrvl264, @flyingpansaurus

#the way to protect the female lead’s older brother #twtptflob #dion agriche #jeremy agriche #roxana agriche #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #lante agriche #cassis pedelian #yandere x reader #dion agriche x reader #x female reader #yandere x you #female x reader #x reader #yandere

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blondemrk · 16 hours ago

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CHALLENGERS ᯓ⚽︎ jeno + jaemin written series

wc 26.1k

✎ elis note . . hi!! just to clarify, there is a lot of timeskips within each grade! if you have seen the movie you know there are a lot of timeskips in it! if you are confused at any point feel free to leave an ask and i will clarify. be prepared to have ur heart CRUSHED. thank you for reading and remember this is only chapter 1

chapters 1 2 3 masterlist

FRESHMAN YEAR

the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the college soccer field where tryouts were underway. y/n stood among the other girls, stretching her legs and loosening her shoulders, her mind racing with the anticipation of the upcoming drills. she had spent countless hours training for this moment—the opportunity to showcase her skills on a bigger stage, to prove that she belonged here just as much as anyone else.

though the focus of the day was on the girls’ team, her eyes kept drifting across the field toward the boys’ team. they were positioned on the opposite side, running through warm-up drills, and among them stood two players who had already made an impression on her—jaemin and jeno.

jaemin had an easy confidence about him, the way he carried himself effortlessly on the ball, dodging defenders and pulling off cheeky flicks. he seemed to be constantly smiling, teasing his teammates as he played. there was something about his energy that made him stand out, and y/n couldn’t help but watch him for a moment longer than she meant to.

jeno, on the other hand, was more reserved. he wasn’t flashy like jaemin, but his quiet intensity was just as captivating. y/n watched him as he moved with precision, his eyes sharp as he read the game, anticipating every pass and movement. he wasn’t loud like jaemin, but there was something in his demeanor that demanded respect.

the whistle blew, signaling the start of the drills, and y/n quickly turned her attention back to her own team, reminding herself of the task at hand. she wasn’t here to watch the boys; she was here to make the team.

a few drills in, y/n found herself in the middle of a fast-paced passing sequence. she was doing well, keeping up with her teammates, but as the ball came to her, it took an awkward bounce. she scrambled to regain control, but before she could, a figure from the other side of the field appeared out of nowhere, intercepting the ball with a swift flick of his foot.

it was jaemin. he grinned playfully as he jogged past her, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and challenge.

“careful, you almost had it there,” jaemin said, his voice light and teasing. “but i guess i’m just too fast for you.”

y/n shot him a quick look, her competitive streak immediately flaring up. “you got lucky,” she said with a grin, hoping to mask the fact that she’d been caught off guard. “let’s see if you can keep that up.”

jaemin chuckled and walked backwards towards his side of the field, clearly enjoying the exchange. his playful demeanor was hard to miss, and it only fueled y/n’s desire to show him just what she was capable of.

after hours of drills, scrimmages, and practice games, the tryouts were finally coming to a close. the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. y/n, jaemin, and jeno, despite being on opposite teams, found themselves in a shared moment of exhaustion, the competitive tension still hanging in the air between them.

as the coaches gathered the players for one final huddle, jaemin jogged over to y/n, his usual grin in place.

“hey, you did pretty well out there,” he said, a little out of breath but clearly impressed. “didn’t expect you to be that fast.”

jeno, who had been standing nearby, spoke up quietly from behind. “she’s a good player.” he said, his voice low but with a note of sincerity.

y/n was taken aback for a moment by his comment. jeno wasn’t one to offer praise lightly, and she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of respect for him in return.

“thanks,” she said, offering him a small smile. “maybe i’ll make things interesting for you guys this season.”

jaemin’s eyes sparkled at her words, and he raised an eyebrow. “don’t get too cocky now. let's see if you even make the team. rosters come out this friday.”

as the players began to head off the field, y/n felt the excitement of the day’s tryouts settle in. she hadn’t just impressed the coaches—she had caught the attention of jaemin and jeno, two players who had already proven themselves to be forces on the field. there was something about the competitive energy between them that felt like the beginning of something more, a rivalry that would fuel their future interactions and maybe even something else.

for now, though, y/n was just focused on one thing: earning her place on the team.

a couple of days had passed since the intense tryouts, and the anticipation was starting to get to y/n. after all the sweat and effort she’d put into the drills, she couldn’t help but feel anxious. she had a good feeling about making the girls' soccer team, but that nervous energy still lingered, buzzing in her chest.

the gym doors were open, and as y/n made her way toward the bulletin board to check the final rosters, she could already see a small crowd gathered around. some players were chatting nervously, while others stood in tense silence, waiting for confirmation.

as she walked up, her heart skipped a beat. she didn’t even need to scan the list for long. there it was—her name was on the girls’ team roster. a breath of relief left her lips, but before she could fully process the excitement, she heard a familiar voice.

“hey, looks like you made it.”

y/n turned around to find jaemin walking toward her, a grin already plastered on his face. he was holding his phone in one hand and a water bottle in the other, clearly unfazed by the moment. he paused when he noticed her standing in front of the board and gave her a knowing look.

“guess you’re in, huh?”

y/n shot him a look of mock disbelief. “i’m not even surprised that you’re here already,” she said with a small smirk. “were you waiting for me?”

jaemin let out a short laugh, clearly enjoying himself. “not waiting. just knew you’d be here sooner or later. we all know how important this moment is.”

she rolled her eyes playfully, but the nerves that had been there moments ago were quickly replaced by the warmth of his teasing. jaemin had always had that way about him—making everything feel just a little more light-hearted.

“so, what’s the verdict for you?” she asked, her voice a little more casual now that the tension was broken.

jaemin checked his phone one more time before giving a small shrug. “of course i made it,” he said confidently. “i told you, we’re too good.”

y/n chuckled, shaking her head at his typical overconfidence. “yeah, yeah. of course you would say that.”

before she could say more, another figure appeared at the edge of the crowd, and y/n felt her heart skip again when she saw it was jeno. he had a quiet presence about him, yet it seemed like everyone always knew when he entered a room. his eyes scanned the board, his focus intense. he was clearly a bit more reserved than jaemin, but she couldn’t help but feel the tension between them—like he was always observing, quietly sizing up the situation.

jeno stood there for a moment before finally stepping forward, his gaze flicking between y/n and jaemin.

“made it,” jeno said simply, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. he wasn’t one to boast, but the way his lips curled upward suggested that he wasn’t completely unaffected by the moment.

“of course,” y/n said with a smirk, “you were too good not to make it.”

jaemin glanced between them, a gleam in his eye. “yeah, no surprise. the team’s already got some serious competition with us in it.”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “you’re not getting too cocky already, are you?”

jaemin grinned. “i wouldn’t be jaemin if i didn’t.”

jeno, however, kept his usual calm demeanor. “the real work starts now,” he said, his voice steady. “we’ve still got a lot to prove, no matter what roster we’re on.”

y/n couldn’t help but nod in agreement. jeno was always the type to keep his focus on what came next, and it was part of what made him so dangerous on the field.

“well, i guess i’m looking forward to seeing you both play,” y/n said

the three of them stood there for a moment in comfortable silence, the weight of the moment slowly sinking in. they had all made it onto their respective teams, but it was more than just a roster spot now. it was a start to something new. the season ahead would test them in ways they hadn’t fully anticipated, and their interactions—already laced with hints of competitive tension—would only grow more intense as time went on.

“so, what’s next?” y/n asked, breaking the silence and glancing between jaemin and jeno. “now that we’re all here, do we get to start training, or do we have to wait for the coaches to give us the real schedule?”

jeno shrugged slightly, his expression thoughtful. “i’m sure they’ll get us all organized soon enough. but i’m ready to start anytime.”

jaemin raised his eyebrows, looking over at y/n with a grin. “well, looks like you’ll be on the opposite side of the field from me. try not to get too frustrated when i score a few goals.”

y/n laughed, not feeling the sting of his words but rather the playful challenge that came with it. “we’ll see about that. you’ve got nothing on me.”

jaemin chuckled. “we’ll see.”

jeno, standing quietly to the side, offered a small but sincere smile. “see you both on the field,” he said, before turning and walking off, leaving jaemin and y/n to continue their banter.

as y/n watched jeno leave, she felt a surge of excitement. this season would be different. with jaemin’s playful competitiveness, jeno’s quiet intensity, and her own drive to prove herself, there was no doubt that things were going to get interesting.

the weeks passed by quickly, and while y/n’s days were filled with the usual grind of practice, studying, and balancing life as a college student, there was an undeniable shift in her relationship with jaemin and jeno. though they were on different teams, their interactions outside of practice—at lunch, between classes, and during the rare moments when their paths crossed after a game—became more frequent.

jaemin’s playful, cocky personality made him easy to talk to. he’d often tease y/n, joking around about how the boys' team was clearly superior to the girls' team (though y/n knew better). but over time, she noticed a different side to him. when the competition wasn’t in full swing, he was surprisingly thoughtful and considerate. he’d listen intently when she spoke about her personal struggles or frustrations, offering advice in his own carefree yet comforting way.

“don’t let it get to you,” jaemin would say, his usual teasing replaced by a more sincere tone. “you’re good, y/n. don’t forget that.”

y/n had to admit—there was something comforting about his presence. he made her feel like she could take on anything, even if the pressure was starting to get to her. the endless competition between their teams was exhausting, but when jaemin was around, she felt like she could laugh it off.

jeno, on the other hand, was quieter, but there was an unmistakable kindness in his demeanor. though their practices didn’t overlap, they would often find themselves walking to class together or sitting at the same table in the campus café. he didn’t speak as much as jaemin, but when he did, it was always with thoughtfulness and depth.

during one particular afternoon after class, y/n found herself sitting with jeno, both of them sipping on iced coffees as they talked about the season. jaemin had walked off with some of his teammates after a game earlier that day, and jeno had ended up walking with her instead.

“you’ve been playing really well,” jeno remarked, his eyes scanning her face as though trying to gauge her thoughts. “i’ve noticed you’ve been pushing yourself in the last few games.”

y/n smiled, but there was a hint of exhaustion in her eyes. “i guess i have to. the competition’s getting tougher, and it feels like there’s more on the line now. the season’s just started, but it already feels like everything’s building up to something.”

“i get that,” jeno responded quietly. “the boys’ team is tough, too. every match is a challenge, but it pushes us all to be better.”

y/n nodded, appreciative of jeno’s understanding. “i think that’s the hardest part,” she said. “the pressure. i want to be at my best, but sometimes it feels like i’m just trying to catch up.”

jeno looked at her for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. “you’re not behind,” he said, his tone steady. “you’re right where you need to be. just don’t rush it. we all grow at different paces.”

there was something reassuring in the way he spoke, a calmness that seemed to settle the restless thoughts swirling in her mind. he wasn’t one to give long speeches, but when he did, it had a way of making everything seem clearer.

as the season progressed, y/n found herself spending more time with both jaemin and jeno, and in a way, she had become a bridge between their worlds. despite being on opposite sides of the field, y/n understood how to balance their competitive natures. jaemin’s boldness clashed with jeno’s quiet intensity, but y/n was able to navigate both personalities with ease. she became their sounding board—jaemin would vent to her about the boys’ team, while jeno would talk to her about his focus on improving, his quiet observations of the team dynamic, and how he wasn’t sure if he was pushing himself enough.

one evening after practice, y/n found herself in a small study group with jaemin and jeno, sitting outside the library and working on an assignment that had been lingering on her to-do list. jaemin, ever the extrovert, had managed to convince both her and jeno to take a break from their work and grab coffee together.

“so,” jaemin said, leaning back in his chair and stretching as he glanced between y/n and jeno, “you two talk a lot, huh?”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “what do you mean?”

jaemin grinned. “i mean, jeno’s all quiet and mysterious, but i swear when you two are together, you just get each other. like you’re on the same wavelength or something.”

jeno, who had been focused on the assignment in front of him, looked up at jaemin’s comment, his expression neutral. “we talk about soccer,” he said simply. “it’s easy to relate.”

y/n chuckled, teasing, “i think jaemin’s just jealous. he doesn’t get the same level of understanding from us.”

jaemin laughed. “i get plenty of understanding from people who know how to appreciate my brilliance.” he gave jeno a playful nudge, but it was clear that he was only half-joking.

jeno, in his typical calm manner, shrugged and then turned to y/n with a soft smile. “i don’t mind it,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically light. “it’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

jaemin seemed to sense the shift in jeno’s tone, but instead of pushing further, he let it go. instead, he turned his attention back to y/n. “you really do balance us out, you know?” he said, his voice more sincere this time. “between me always being the loud one and jeno being the quiet one, you’re like the perfect mediator.”

y/n smiled, grateful for the acknowledgment, though she didn’t want to make it sound like it was all about her. “i guess i just know how to handle you both. you’re not as different as you think.”

jeno’s lips curved into a small smile, and for the briefest moment, it felt like the three of them weren’t rivals from different teams. they were just friends, united by their shared experiences on the field, their growing understanding of each other, and their mutual respect.

though the season was still young, y/n couldn’t help but feel that, in some strange way, this dynamic—being the bridge between two competitive worlds—was exactly where she was meant to be.

the shift had been gradual, almost imperceptible at first. the teasing between jaemin and y/n grew more flirtatious, and the moments they spent together outside of practice began to feel more intimate. at first, it was harmless—just the two of them joking around, teasing one another, and enjoying each other’s company. but soon, something deeper began to take root.

one night, after a long practice session, y/n found herself sitting next to jaemin on the bleachers, the rest of the team scattered around the field, cooling down. the air was crisp, and the stadium lights bathed the space in a soft glow. jaemin had been unusually quiet, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his water bottle.

“so,” y/n broke the silence, nudging him with her shoulder, “you’ve been in a weird mood tonight. what’s going on?”

jaemin looked at her, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “nothing. just thinking.”

“thinking? about what?” y/n raised an eyebrow, curious.

jaemin leaned closer, his tone dropping into something more serious, though there was still a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “about us.”

y/n blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “us?”

jaemin’s smirk widened, and he leaned back, a confident swagger returning to him. “yeah, you know, us. i’ve been thinking maybe it’s time we took this thing between us to the next level.”

the words hung in the air for a moment before y/n could process them. she’d known that jaemin had been flirting with her, but to hear him actually say it out loud—well, it caught her off guard. but something about the way he said it, the light in his eyes, made her heart flutter.

“you mean… like, dating?” y/n asked, her voice softer than she intended.

jaemin nodded, his smile never faltering. “yeah, exactly. i mean, we’ve been spending a lot of time together, right? and i don’t know about you, but i think there’s something here.”

y/n couldn’t deny the pull she felt toward him, the connection that had been building over time. jaemin was fun, easy to talk to, and the chemistry between them was undeniable. she had started to notice the way his smile made her heart race, how his touch lingered just a little longer than necessary.

and yet, there was something nagging at the back of her mind. but the pull to say yes was strong. maybe it was the thrill of something new, or maybe it was the simple fact that jaemin had always been there, cheering her on and making her laugh when she needed it the most.

“i… yeah, i think i’d like that,” she said, the words feeling right as they left her lips.

jaemin’s grin grew wider, and in that moment, y/n couldn’t help but feel like she was making the right choice. his arm slipped around her shoulders, and she let him pull her into a casual embrace. it was easy, comforting, and she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this at ease with someone.

“i knew you’d come around,” jaemin teased, his voice light and playful. “you won’t regret it.”

the next few weeks passed in a whirlwind. jaemin and y/n fell into a rhythm, spending more time together both on and off the field. it felt like the beginning of something real, something exciting. they would grab lunch after practice, hang out with friends on the weekends, and sometimes, they would just sit in the library and study together. jaemin was the one who made her laugh when she needed it most, and she became his quiet support when things were tough.

but despite the obvious chemistry between them, there was an underlying tension, one that neither jaemin nor y/n could sense—but jeno certainly could.

jeno had always been quiet, observant, and good at reading people. it was no surprise that he had noticed the subtle shift between y/n and jaemin. he wasn’t blind to the way they had grown closer, how they’d spent more time together, how their interactions had become more intimate.

and while he genuinely wanted to be happy for them—he did, really—there was an ache in his chest that he couldn’t shake. jeno had always admired y/n from afar, ever since their first days at college. but over time, those quiet moments they had shared began to mean more to him than he could admit. he wasn’t the type to express his feelings easily, and when jaemin made his move, jeno had never once considered that his own feelings for y/n ran deeper than friendship.

now, watching them together was like a slow burn. every time he saw them laughing together or sharing a casual touch, a pang of jealousy twisted in his stomach, but he kept it all to himself. the last thing he wanted was to be the third wheel, especially with someone like jaemin who could make everything seem effortless.

one afternoon, after a particularly intense practice session, y/n and jaemin were talking about their upcoming match when jeno approached them. his usual calm expression was still there, but there was something in his eyes that y/n couldn’t quite place.

“hey,” jeno greeted them with a small nod, his voice a little quieter than usual.

jaemin immediately flashed a grin, ever the extrovert. “what’s up, jeno? you here to remind us that we should be focusing right now?”

jeno’s lips twitched, but the smile never quite reached his eyes. “something like that.”

y/n could sense a slight tension between the two of them, but she couldn’t put her finger on why it felt off. jaemin was still his usual teasing self, but jeno seemed to be holding back, as though something was weighing on him.

“you alright?” y/n asked, her tone concerned. “you seem a little off.”

jeno hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking between her and jaemin. then, after a beat, he shook his head. “yeah, just… tired. it’s been a long week.”

y/n nodded, giving him a sympathetic look. “i get that. we’ve all been pushing ourselves hard lately. let me know if you need anything.”

“thanks,” jeno murmured, offering a small smile before walking off, his steps quieter than usual.

jaemin watched him go, a slight frown forming on his face. “what was that about?” he asked, glancing at y/n. “he didn’t seem like himself.”

y/n shrugged. “i don’t know. maybe he’s just stressed about the match.”

but in the pit of her stomach, she couldn’t help but feel like there was more to it. jeno had always been the quiet one, but this sudden distance, this quiet tension—it felt like something was brewing underneath the surface.

what y/n didn’t realize was that jeno’s feelings for her weren’t something he could easily ignore. and while he would never voice it out loud, every smile she gave jaemin, every casual touch between them, felt like a painful reminder that what he had silently hoped for was never going to be.

SOPHOMORE YEAR

the championship game was the event everyone had been waiting for. sitting in the stands, jaemins jersey on her back. the air was thick with anticipation as the boys' soccer team prepared for what would be the most important match of the season. y/n sat in the stands, a sea of excited fans around her, but her attention was fixed on the field below. her heart was racing, knowing how much this game meant to her friends, especially jaemin and jeno. the entire team had worked tirelessly for this moment, but more than that, she knew how badly jaemin wanted to win.

her eyes swept over the field, finding jaemin at the center. he was full of energy, dancing around defenders with a cocky grin plastered on his face. the game had started off fast, both teams evenly matched, but jaemin’s confidence was evident. as usual, he was the one to take charge, and the rest of the boys followed suit.

beside him, jeno was more composed. y/n had always admired jeno’s quiet strength—the way he seemed to let his actions do the talking. his steady and calculated style of play was the perfect counterbalance to jaemin’s more energetic and show-off demeanor.

as the game went on, it became clear that it was going to be an intense battle. every pass, every shot, every tackle mattered. the crowd was on the edge of their seats, the atmosphere electric. but then, a pivotal moment came in the second half.

jaemin had just stolen the ball from an opponent and was charging toward the goal with a fierce determination in his eyes. the entire stadium was on their feet, cheering him on as he neared the box, only a few steps away from a perfect opportunity to score. but before jaemin could strike, an opposing player lunged forward, tackling him hard from the side.

y/n gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as jaemin crashed to the ground, his body twisting awkwardly with the force of the impact. the stadium went silent, and even the opposing team seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure of what had just happened. jaemin stayed down, clutching his leg, his face contorted in pain.

the referee immediately blew the whistle, and players from both teams rushed toward jaemin. y/n’s heart pounded in her chest as she stood up, her eyes glued to him. she could see the way his body was trembling as he attempted to sit up. it was clear something was wrong.

“jaemin!” she shouted from the stands, her voice breaking through the noise. she saw him grimace as he tried to move his leg, but it was no use. he couldn’t put any weight on it.

jeno, who had been near jaemin when the tackle occurred, was the first to reach his teammate. his usual calm was replaced with a quiet urgency as he crouched next to jaemin, his expression hard to read.

“jaemin, are you okay?” jeno asked, his voice laced with concern.

jaemin clenched his teeth. “i—i don’t know. i think i twisted my ankle. i can’t move it.”

jeno’s face darkened. “stay still. let the medics check you out.”

the medical team rushed to the scene, quickly assessing jaemin’s condition before helping him off the field. the entire stadium held its breath as jaemin hobbled off, leaning heavily on jeno for support.

y/n’s hands gripped the railing of the stands as she watched jaemin being led to the bench. her stomach twisted in knots—this was the championship game, and jaemin had just been sidelined. she could see the frustration on his face as he was helped to sit on the bench, his eyes filled with anger and disbelief.

with jaemin off the field, the boys’ team was suddenly without their star player. the coach called a timeout, gathering the team around to strategize, but the mood was somber. jaemin had been a key player, and without him, the boys’ team seemed to lose their momentum. y/n’s gaze shifted to jeno, who was now stepping forward in the absence of his teammate.

jeno didn’t hesitate. his calm, measured demeanor was exactly what the team needed at that moment. while the rest of the players seemed rattled, jeno remained steady, his focus sharper than ever.

y/n watched as he took charge, organizing plays and leading his team with quiet authority. he was still jeno—his usual reserved self—but today, there was something different. he wasn’t just playing for the team anymore; he was playing for jaemin, for the game, and for the glory that had seemed to slip away the moment jaemin went down.

the tension in the stands grew with every passing minute. the game was still neck-and-neck, but jeno’s leadership was starting to turn the tide. his passes were impeccable, his vision of the field precise. with each move, he seemed to elevate the entire team, pulling them back from the brink of defeat.

then, in the dying minutes of the game, jeno did something that sealed his place as the hero of the match. he seized a loose ball, dodged an opponent, and took a shot that sent the ball sailing into the back of the net.

the stadium erupted in cheers, but y/n couldn’t help but feel a bittersweet pang in her chest. the boys’ team had won, and jeno was the one who had secured their victory—but it came at a price. jaemin wasn’t there to share the glory. his injury had stolen that moment from him, and now, jeno was the one in the spotlight.

after the game, the boys’ team celebrated their victory, but it was clear that the win was tainted by jaemin’s injury. the atmosphere was a mix of celebration and uncertainty, with players high-fiving and congratulating each other, but their eyes constantly flicking toward the bench where jaemin sat, his leg propped up and his ankle wrapped in ice.

y/n approached jaemin as he sat quietly, his face a mask of frustration. he forced a smile when he saw her, but it didn��t reach his eyes.

“hey, you did great out there,” y/n said, trying to comfort him, but her voice was full of concern.

jaemin shrugged, his tone dismissive. “it doesn’t matter now, does it? i’m stuck on the sidelines while jeno takes my spot.”

y/n’s heart sank. “jaemin—”

“no, really,” jaemin interrupted, his voice edged with bitterness. “he played well, didn’t he? took charge, scored the winning goal. now the team’s going to think he’s the new leader.”

y/n didn’t know how to respond. she knew that jaemin’s injury had shaken him more than he was letting on. he had always been the center of attention, the one everyone relied on. now, that position had shifted, and he couldn’t help but feel betrayed by his own body.

from across the field, jeno was talking with some of the other players, but his usual calm demeanor seemed to be weighed down by something more. when his eyes briefly met jaemin’s, there was a flicker of something—a silent understanding—and then jeno quickly looked away, returning to his conversation.

y/n’s gaze shifted back and forth between the two of them, and she couldn’t ignore the shift in their friendship. jaemin’s injury had opened up a rift that neither of them seemed ready to address, but the strain was becoming more and more palpable.

she knew that jeno hadn’t done anything wrong. he had played his part, stepped up when the team needed him. but she also knew that jaemin wasn’t one to take kindly to being sidelined, especially when he had worked so hard for this moment. and now, there was a quiet tension that neither of them was acknowledging—but it was there, hovering between them, thickening the air.

as she stood between the two of them, y/n couldn’t help but feel like everything had changed. the victory, the injury, the unspoken feelings—it was all too much for her to handle. she had always been the bridge between jaemin and jeno, but now, she wasn’t sure if she could hold them together any longer.

the days after the championship game were tense, like a storm waiting to break. jaemin’s injury was the kind that required rest and patience, but the emotional toll it was taking on him was becoming evident. he spent more time alone, nursing his injury, and less time with the team. he could feel the frustration bubbling inside him—every time he watched the boys play, every time he saw jeno step into the spotlight, the bitterness grew.

jeno, on the other hand, seemed to be carrying the weight of the team’s victory. he’d been praised for his performance, and while he appreciated the recognition, something in him felt uneasy. it wasn’t just the fact that he’d replaced jaemin in the game—he knew jaemin hadn’t taken his injury well. what jeno hadn’t expected, though, was how deeply jaemin’s silence would affect him.

their first confrontation came late one evening after practice. the boys were winding down in the locker room, the team buzzing about their upcoming game. jeno was leaning against a locker, talking with some of the other players, when jaemin walked in, his crutches tapping against the floor with each step.

jaemin’s eyes scanned the room, and for a brief moment, he locked eyes with jeno. there was a heaviness in the air, something unspoken, and both of them could feel it. jaemin didn’t wait for anyone to approach him—he walked straight over to jeno, his face tight with emotion.

“you’ve been getting all the attention lately,” jaemin said, his voice sharp.

jeno raised an eyebrow, confused. “what are you talking about?”

“i’m talking about the game,” jaemin snapped, his tone defensive. “you take my place, you score the winning goal, and suddenly you’re the hero. the mvp. what about me? i’ve worked my ass off for this team, and in one moment, it’s like i don’t even matter anymore.”

jeno blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst. he had known jaemin was upset, but he hadn’t expected this level of animosity. “jaemin, that’s not what this is about. you’re hurt. i didn’t want this to happen. i didn’t want to have to step in. but the team needed me.”

jaemin’s face flushed with frustration. “of course, you didn’t want it to happen. but you’re loving the attention, aren’t you? you’re eating it up, just waiting for your chance to be the star.”

“that’s not fair,” jeno responded, his voice growing colder. “i didn’t ask for this. i didn’t ask to be the one who scored. i did what i had to do, and i played my part. the team needed someone to step up, and i did. what else do you want from me?”

jaemin’s eyes narrowed, the anger now completely surfacing. “i wanted my place back,” he shot back, his fists clenching. “i wanted to be the one to win the game. i wanted to be the one to get all the praise. not you. you’re just... you’re just happy to be the new ‘golden boy.’”

jeno’s jaw tightened. “that’s not fair, jaemin. you’re the one who’s been acting like you’re above everyone else this whole time. just because i’m not loud and flashy doesn’t mean i don’t deserve this. i stepped up for the team. i didn’t ask for this position, but i’ll take it if it means we win.”

jaemin laughed bitterly, his voice rising. “you don’t get it, do you? it’s not about the game anymore. it’s about you, trying to replace me. you don’t care about what it means to me, how hard i’ve worked for this, how badly i wanted it. you’re too busy trying to prove something.”

jeno’s face hardened, his voice dropping to a low growl. “maybe you should stop thinking everything’s about you. maybe you should take a step back and realize that this team doesn’t revolve around you. i’ve been here, too. i’ve put in the work, and i’m tired of watching you act like you’re the only one who matters.”

the room fell into a heavy silence. the rest of the team, sensing the rising tension, had fallen quiet. their argument was no longer just about the game. it was about their friendship—the bond they had built over the years. and now, it was unraveling right before their eyes.

jaemin looked at jeno, his expression hardening, as if seeing his friend for the first time. he opened his mouth to say something more, but the words wouldn’t come. instead, he turned away, crutching himself out of the locker room without another word.

“jaemin, wait—” jeno started, but the door slammed shut behind him before he could finish his sentence.

jeno stood there, staring at the door, his fists clenched at his sides. he felt like his chest had been crushed under the weight of what had just happened. he had never imagined it would come to this. he never imagined that a single argument could destroy the friendship they had built.

but now, as the seconds ticked by, jeno knew that things had changed. his heart ached, but there was a gnawing feeling in his gut that told him this wasn’t something they could easily fix.

jaemin’s injury had kept him sidelined for weeks, and the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil he was going through. every day felt like a reminder of his inability to contribute to the team, of the space he was losing—not just in the game, but in his friendships. he couldn’t shake the feeling that his position had been taken, that his importance to the team, and to those around him, was slipping away.

y/n had been there for him, as always. she’d helped him with his recovery, visited him at his apartment when he was too frustrated to go out, and spent hours on the phone with him whenever he needed someone to talk to. but despite all of her support, jaemin couldn't stop the nagging feeling in the back of his mind—jeno was still there. jeno was still the one everyone was talking about, the one everyone was praising for leading the team to victory. and the worst part? y/n had been spending more and more time with jeno, trying to comfort him through the aftermath of their argument, offering him the support jaemin had always given him.

it was late one evening, and jaemin was sitting on his couch, nursing his ankle as he scrolled through social media on his phone. every post, every mention of jeno just seemed to dig a little deeper into his insecurities. he couldn’t stop thinking about the way y/n had looked at jeno the other day—like she was proud of him, like he was the hero of their story. it made his chest ache. his jealousy, which had been simmering for weeks, was finally boiling over.

a knock on his door interrupted his spiraling thoughts. it was y/n.

"hey, how’s the ankle?" she asked, stepping inside with a small smile, trying to keep the mood light.

jaemin looked up at her, forcing a smile in return. "it’s fine. still just... healing," he said, his voice flat.

y/n sat down beside him, glancing at his ankle. "you should really rest it more. i know you hate it, but you need to let it heal properly."

jaemin nodded but didn’t say anything. he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. he had been pretending for too long, and it was starting to wear him down.

after a moment of silence, jaemin finally spoke, his voice low and tense. "you’ve been spending a lot of time with jeno, haven’t you?"

y/n blinked in surprise. "what? jaemin, we’re friends. you know that."

jaemin’s expression hardened. "yeah, but it’s more than that now, isn’t it? you’re always checking in on him, always there for him. you never used to do that for me. what’s going on, y/n?"

y/n’s eyes widened, confusion and concern overtaking her features. "what are you talking about? i’m just trying to help him. he’s struggling, jaemin. he’s your friend, too."

jaemin’s heart pounded in his chest as he leaned forward, his gaze intense. "yeah, i know. but it’s like you’re forgetting about me. you’re too busy being there for him. you��ve been... spending so much time with him, talking to him, comforting him. and i’m just sitting here, watching it all happen."

y/n’s expression shifted, her confusion turning into frustration. "that’s not fair, jaemin. i’m here for you, too! you know that, right? i’m not replacing you with jeno. you’re just... you’re just in your head right now."

jaemin’s voice rose, the hurt and jealousy finally spilling out. "it feels like you are. you’ve barely been around since the game. and when you are, it’s always about jeno—how he’s doing, how he’s coping. i’m just supposed to sit here and wait until i’m good enough to play again, right?"

y/n’s face fell. she had never seen jaemin like this before. the defensiveness, the jealousy—it was completely out of character for him. she had always known him as confident, energetic, and optimistic, but this version of him was raw and vulnerable in a way that was hard for her to process.

"jaemin, i’m not trying to push you aside. i’m here for you. i’ve always been here for you," y/n said softly, her voice cracking with emotion. "but i’m also trying to help jeno, because... because he’s going through something, too. you don’t get it, do you?"

jaemin’s eyes flickered with frustration. "i get it, y/n. you’re both just so much better than me right now. you’ve got him—jeno—and you’ve got the team’s attention. and then there’s me, stuck on the sidelines with nothing to offer."

y/n’s heart sank. she didn’t know how to make him see that it wasn’t about jeno or the team’s attention. it was about him, about helping him recover and reminding him of the strength he still had—no matter what had happened on the field.

"i never said you were nothing, jaemin," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "you’re everything to me. but you need to stop pushing people away. you can’t keep thinking that i’m going to abandon you just because jeno and i talk more. that’s not how it is. and you know it."

the silence that followed hung heavy in the air. jaemin’s face softened, but the tension between them remained. he had been so consumed by his own jealousy that he hadn’t realized how much y/n had been trying to balance—her support for him and for jeno. but now, it felt like their friendship, their connection, was slipping through his fingers.

"i’m sorry," jaemin muttered, his voice low. "i didn’t mean to say those things. it’s just... hard, you know? watching everything change."

y/n let out a slow breath. "i know it’s hard. but you’re not alone in this, jaemin. not now, not ever."

jaemin looked away, staring at the floor, unsure of what to say next. the insecurity that had been gnawing at him was still there, but in this moment, he realized that he had let his jealousy cloud the truth: y/n wasn’t choosing jeno over him. she wasn’t replacing him.

y/n, caught in the middle of their fallout, struggles to remain neutral. every day feels like walking through a minefield, where one wrong step might shatter everything. the friendship between jaemin and jeno, once so effortless and full of mutual respect, has cracked under the weight of rivalry, jealousy, and unspoken words. y/n feels like she’s stuck in the eye of a storm, trying to hold onto both of them while everything around her crumbles. she can’t help but blame herself, even if deep down, she knows it’s not her fault. she wishes she could simply make everything go back to the way it was, but the distance between them feels too vast, too permanent now.

when jaemin and jeno had their falling out, y/n immediately felt the ripple effects. they didn’t just stop talking to each other; they stopped being the people y/n had grown close to. jaemin, once so open and warm, now avoids y/n’s attempts to comfort him. his silence is suffocating. y/n tries to reach out to him, but his cold responses only make her feel like a stranger. he’s hurt, she understands that. but why does it feel like every time she extends a hand, he pulls further away?

jaemin’s hurt is so visible. he’s not the same person anymore. she watches as he buries himself in his recovery, and yet, every time he’s with her, it’s like there’s a piece of him missing. the playful glint in his eyes is gone, replaced by something deeper—anger, resentment, uncertainty. he doesn’t express it directly, but y/n can feel it in his tone, in the way his body language tenses when she mentions jeno. he can’t even stand the sight of her talking to jeno for too long, a fact that cuts deeper than y/n would have expected.

it’s not just jaemin’s silence that gets to her; it’s the way he subtly pulls away from her. the days when he would spontaneously grab her hand or ask how her day was feel like distant memories now. he’s still there, but only physically. y/n catches him staring at her sometimes, but there’s no warmth in his gaze. just cold, calculated distance. every time she tries to reassure him, tell him that nothing’s changed, that she’s still there for him, it feels like he’s not listening. he doesn’t believe her anymore. and she feels that, deep down, a part of her is losing him—slowly but surely.

the jealousy that jaemin harbors isn’t just about soccer or jeno’s success. it’s about her. about the fact that y/n and jeno still share moments together, that jeno is still a part of her life even though their friendship is strained. jaemin’s insecurities grow, and they’re starting to eat away at him. he feels threatened not just by jeno’s increasing success on the field but by the bond y/n and jeno share. there’s a part of jaemin that wonders if y/n still cares for him in the same way. the uncertainty is consuming him, and as a result, he pushes y/n further away.

and it’s not like she doesn’t try to fix it. she does, over and over again. she texts him, calls him, tries to make plans for the two of them, but every time, it feels like he’s just going through the motions. the moments when they used to talk for hours have now become quick exchanges, and the silence in between those words is growing. she knows that silence. it’s the silence that comes before something breaks for good.

jeno, too, has been changing, but not in the way y/n had hoped. she can still see the boy she once knew—the one who used to joke around with her, who would tease her in a way that made her feel at ease. but now, he’s a version of himself she barely recognizes. jeno is quieter now, more withdrawn, but he still makes an effort to be there for her. he helps her study, checks in with her after games, and offers her advice when she’s frustrated with her performance. yet, there’s something beneath the surface—something that y/n can’t quite name. the way he looks at her when they’re alone, the way his voice softens when he says her name, it all feels different. y/n can feel the tension growing, a quiet undercurrent that runs beneath their casual conversations.

it’s hard for y/n to ignore that jeno isn’t just supporting her as a friend anymore. he’s hiding feelings, feelings he’s been carrying for far too long. his gestures of kindness, his little acts of support, now feel heavier than before. y/n can sense his pain, the longing that he’s trying so hard to keep buried. she feels it when his hand brushes against hers for a second too long or when he offers her a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. jeno is hiding his feelings, but they’re becoming too obvious to ignore.

the worst part is that y/n doesn’t know how to act around him anymore. she’s torn between loyalty and love. she knows jeno’s feelings for her are real, but she doesn’t know how to reciprocate them without betraying jaemin. she can’t help but feel guilty, knowing how hard jeno is trying to be there for her even as his emotions remain unspoken. but she also knows that the bond they share is built on years of friendship. and she can’t just ignore the weight of her own feelings for jaemin, even as she watches him crumble before her eyes.

y/n feels like she’s drowning in guilt and confusion. she’s struggling to keep the pieces of their fractured friendships together, but no matter how hard she tries, it seems like she can’t fix what’s broken. her efforts to talk to jaemin only push him further away, and when she tries to reach out to jeno, it’s like she’s stepping into a minefield of unspoken emotions. the more she tries, the more everything unravels.

she wants to talk to both of them, to tell them that she’s still here for them, that she’s not choosing sides, but the truth is, y/n doesn’t know if she can. she doesn’t know if they’ll ever get back to the way things were. she doesn’t know if she can carry the weight of their pain anymore. and worst of all, she doesn’t know if there’s a way out of this cycle.

her world is becoming smaller by the day, and with every passing hour, she feels the distance between them grow. what was once a tight-knit trio is now split apart, with y/n standing in the middle, watching as both jaemin and jeno spiral into their own worlds of resentment, frustration, and unspoken feelings. and she’s left, powerless to stop it, only hoping that somewhere down the line, they can all find a way to heal.

jaemin and jeno, now unable to even look at each other, refuse to communicate. the fallout from their argument leaves a thick tension hanging in the air, and it seems like there’s no coming back from it. jeno’s once lively presence on the field now feels almost like a shadow of what it used to be. he plays with intensity, but every movement, every pass, seems mechanical. the joy he once felt in soccer feels hollow. he can feel jaemin’s absence, even though jaemin is still a part of the team. their silent animosity has shifted the team dynamic, leaving jeno with the burden of trying to fill the emotional void left by their fractured friendship. yet, even with all of his success, he can’t seem to shake the feeling of guilt that clings to him.

jaemin, on the other hand, isn’t interested in jeno’s achievements. he’s too consumed with his own bitterness to even acknowledge how jeno is rising in prominence. while jeno has gained respect from the team, jaemin isolates himself further. he doesn’t attend social gatherings, avoids his teammates, and spends most of his time with his thoughts. his physical recovery is slow, but his emotional pain is even more crippling. he watches from the sidelines, not just in the literal sense but also in his own life. the anger he feels toward jeno consumes him, and with each day that passes, the resentment deepens. he finds it impossible to cheer for jeno’s success, even when it’s clear that jeno has worked hard for it.

y/n feels the tension every day. she’s never been so acutely aware of the growing distance between herself and both of them. jaemin’s withdrawal from her is the most painful part of all of this. she tries to reach out to him—texts, calls, messages—but they go unanswered, or at best, she receives short, disinterested responses. the once warm and open relationship she had with jaemin is now a ghost, replaced by awkward silences when they are in the same room. he’s not the jaemin she fell in love with anymore. he’s not even the jaemin she used to call her best friend. he’s someone she doesn’t recognize, someone who has become a stranger in her life.

but jeno doesn’t make things easier, either. he’s still there for her, but the burden of his unspoken feelings weighs on him like a storm waiting to break. he’s quieter now, his once carefree attitude dampened by the constant internal conflict he feels. his gestures are kind, and he’s there whenever she needs him, but there’s an air of sadness around him that y/n can’t ignore. the way he looks at her sometimes, the lingering touches, the soft smiles that don’t quite meet his eyes—they all make her heart ache. jeno is hiding something, something that’s slowly chipping away at the friendship they’ve shared for so long.

y/n feels as if she’s been caught in the crossfire of their conflict. she wants to support jaemin, but he doesn’t want her help. she wants to comfort jeno, but she can’t deny the distance that’s growing between them. the emotional weight of trying to maintain relationships with both of them while they drift further apart is overwhelming. every conversation she has with jaemin feels like she’s walking on thin ice, afraid of saying the wrong thing. every interaction with jeno feels bittersweet, as if there’s something unspoken lingering in the air, a tension that neither of them dares to confront.

the pressure to fix things is crushing. y/n knows that jaemin and jeno are both hurting, but no matter how hard she tries, she can’t seem to get through to either of them. it feels like she’s losing both of them at once. the guilt eats at her. what if there was something she could have done to prevent this? what if she could have said something differently, or acted differently? the "what ifs" consume her, leaving her trapped in a never-ending cycle of self-doubt.

jaemin has become more withdrawn; he no longer has the same spark in his eyes, the same warmth in his gestures. he’s quieter, more distant, and no longer seems to take the same joy in their relationship. while he’s still present, both physically and on the field, his heart isn’t the same. his smiles feel forced, and his touches, once full of affection, now seem mechanical. y/n is left grasping at straws, trying to bring back the jaemin she once knew.

jaemin's disinterest isn't just in their relationship, but in everything around him. he becomes less involved in team activities, declining invites to social gatherings or team dinners. when y/n tries to talk to him, he brushes her off with vague excuses, saying he’s tired or busy. his friends, even jeno, notice the change in him, but no one dares to bring it up. y/n begins to feel like she’s fighting a losing battle, putting all her energy into saving their relationship while jaemin seems to pull further and further away from her.

jeno, still caught in his feelings for y/n, notices the tension between the couple but doesn’t know how to help. he’s always been there for y/n as a friend, but lately, even his attempts at offering support seem to fall flat. jaemin, who used to be so open with her, now keeps everything inside. his demeanor is colder, and whenever y/n tries to talk to him about it, he deflects, pushing her away with every word he says. it becomes impossible for y/n to ignore that something isn’t right.

one night, the truth finally hits y/n like a ton of bricks.

after finishing a late-night practice session, y/n decides to take a detour to the locker room to grab something she left behind earlier that day. she knows jaemin often stays late to work on his recovery, so she plans to surprise him with a snack. but as she steps into the hallway leading to the locker room, she hears voices—low whispers, followed by soft laughter.

at first, she doesn’t think much of it, assuming someone else is around. but as she gets closer, her stomach churns. she pushes open the door, only to be greeted by a sight that freezes her in place. jaemin is standing there, his arms wrapped around her best friend from the girls’ soccer team. the same best friend who had been her confidante, the one she had confided in about jaemin’s emotional distance and her struggles.

her best friend is laughing softly, pressing her lips to jaemin’s in a kiss. jaemin doesn’t notice y/n at first, too consumed in the moment, but when he hears her sharp intake of breath, he pulls away. the look on his face is one of pure shock and guilt, but the damage is already done.

y/n doesn’t know what to do. her legs feel like they might give out beneath her as the world spins around her. the betrayal cuts deep. jaemin, the man she’s been holding onto, the man she thought was her rock, has been cheating on her with someone she trusted with everything. her best friend—the one person who was supposed to have her back—has turned her loyalty into a cruel joke.

jaemin stumbles forward, his words coming out in a disjointed mess. “y/n, i—i didn’t mean for you to find out like this.” but there is no apology in his eyes, no regret. instead, there is just guilt, a guilt that’s tainted by the obvious desire to justify his actions.

y/n doesn’t say anything at first. she stands there, numb, as her heart breaks into a million pieces. everything she thought she knew about jaemin, about their relationship, is a lie. she turns without saying a word, walking out of the locker room and into the cold night, feeling the sting of the betrayal burn into her chest. she can’t look at jaemin anymore. she doesn’t want to. she can’t trust him. not after this.

jaemin watches her leave, knowing that he’s just lost the one person who truly mattered to him. but the reality of his actions doesn’t seem to hit him immediately. he stays in the locker room, facing the harsh consequences of his mistake, but all he feels is regret, not for his actions, but for the pain he’s caused y/n. what’s done is done. the brokenness in his chest doesn’t compare to the pain he knows y/n is feeling.

the next few days are a blur. y/n isolates herself, drowning in a mix of heartbreak and disbelief. she doesn’t return jaemin’s texts or calls, refusing to let him explain himself. there is no explanation that can make this right, not when she feels so utterly betrayed. she tries to focus on soccer, but even the sport she loves doesn’t bring her solace. every time she steps onto the field, the memory of jaemin’s betrayal haunts her. she can’t shake the feeling of being used, of having her trust completely shattered.

meanwhile, jaemin reaches out again and again, but y/n refuses to listen. jeno, who had been quietly watching from the sidelines, begins to notice the strain this is putting on y/n. his own feelings for her, long buried, come rushing to the surface as he realizes just how much she’s hurting. he wants to comfort her, to tell her that she deserves better, but the line between friendship and something more is too blurred. and with jaemin still trying to reach y/n, jeno knows he can’t step in—at least not yet.

the damage is done. y/n has lost her best friend and her boyfriend in one blow, and the aftermath leaves her questioning everything she once believed about trust, love, and loyalty.

JUNIOR YEAR

the sun hung low in the sky as y/n walked across campus, her heart heavy. junior year had begun, but it didn’t feel like a fresh start. it felt like she was still stuck in the aftermath of the betrayal—the cheating, the lies, and the painful loss of trust.

she glanced over at the soccer field as she walked past it, the sound of the boys' team practicing drifting in the air. her eyes briefly met jaemin’s across the field, and she quickly looked away. he had been trying to approach her for weeks, sending texts, leaving notes in her locker—desperate attempts to fix what he’d broken. but y/n had learned the hard way that some things can’t be fixed. not when the cracks run so deep.

her stomach twisted at the thought of him. jaemin had been everything to her—her first love, her best friend, her everything. but now? now, all she could feel when she saw him was the sting of betrayal. the guilt, the anger, the hurt—it was all still there, swirling in her chest like a storm that never seemed to pass.

y/n shook her head and focused on the task at hand: surviving the first week of classes without completely falling apart. her friends—what few she had left after everything—had told her to focus on herself. to stop worrying about the people who’d hurt her. but how could she when every interaction seemed to revolve around jaemin?

as she entered the building for her first lecture of the day, she almost collided with someone at the door.

“woah, sorry!” she said, stepping back quickly.

jeno, who had been walking just behind her, gave her a soft smile. “you okay?”

y/n forced a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “yeah, just... tired.” she gave him a quick nod before turning to head inside. the last thing she needed right now was to engage in a long conversation.

but jeno wasn’t the type to let things go easily. he followed her into the classroom, sitting beside her without hesitation. over the last year, jeno had become someone she could rely on, even if it wasn’t always easy to accept his support. after the fallout with jaemin, jeno had been a silent presence, offering his care without pushing her.

for that, she was grateful. but the last thing y/n wanted was to rely on him too much. she knew how tangled everything already was.

“so, how’s the team?” jeno asked casually, pulling out his notebook as the lecture started.

y/n shrugged, her eyes momentarily flickering to the side. “same as always, i guess. a lot of pressure with the season starting soon.” she tried to keep her tone neutral, but she couldn’t ignore the pang of discomfort that came from thinking about the boys’ team. jaemin was there, of course, and the last time they’d interacted had been... messy.

jeno caught her hesitation but didn’t press her for details. he just nodded in understanding, choosing to stay silent for the rest of the lecture. he could tell that y/n was struggling, but he wasn’t going to push her. not yet.

the days that followed felt like a blur. y/n buried herself in her schoolwork, soccer practice, and the few remaining friendships she had left, all while trying to ignore the ever-present tension between her, jaemin, and jeno. jaemin’s attempts to reach out only made it worse. he’d show up at the field, lingering after practice, hoping for a chance to speak to her, but y/n would avoid him every time. the pain was still too fresh. every time she looked at him, all she could see was the hurt he’d caused.

jaemin’s frustration was growing. he hadn’t been able to understand why y/n was shutting him out completely, why her anger felt so cold and final. he could see the way she leaned on jeno more and more, and the jealousy that simmered beneath the surface began to eat away at him. but his guilt was even worse. the guilt that he’d destroyed something beautiful, something he’d taken for granted.

one afternoon, jaemin waited for y/n outside the gym, hoping for a chance to speak to her before practice started. he had rehearsed what he was going to say a thousand times in his head, but now that he was face-to-face with her, the words felt impossible to speak.

“y/n,” he called softly as she walked by, her head down as she passed him.

y/n froze for a moment, her back still turned to him. she knew he was there, knew he was probably waiting for some sort of acknowledgement. but she couldn’t do it—not yet. not when the wound was still so open. she didn’t turn around.

“please, y/n,” jaemin’s voice cracked slightly. “can we just talk? i—"

“i don’t think we have anything to talk about,” she interrupted, her voice cool. “not anymore.”

the finality in her tone hit him like a punch to the gut, and he stood there, staring after her as she walked into the gym.

it was hard for him to accept, but jaemin couldn’t ignore the truth: y/n wasn’t going to forgive him. not now, not ever.

the following weeks were a blur of practices, classes, and quiet nights spent in solitude. y/n couldn’t bring herself to face jaemin, and with each passing day, the distance between them seemed to grow even wider. the guilt that came with avoiding him was overwhelming, but it was nothing compared to the emotional wreckage she felt every time she thought about everything he had done.

jaemin’s attempts to make things right were relentless. after that last confrontation outside the gym, he continued to text her, leaving notes on her locker and occasionally cornering her after class. but each time y/n saw him, she felt that old sting in her chest. she wanted to scream at him for what he had done—wanted to demand answers for why he cheated, for why he ruined everything they had. but she never did. instead, she put up walls, silently pushing him away every time he tried to break through.

it wasn’t just jaemin’s efforts that were getting to her, though. it was the way he kept showing up everywhere. on the field during practice, at school events, and even at their usual hangouts with friends. his presence was suffocating. y/n knew he wasn’t giving up, but she also knew she couldn’t face him. not yet.

when practice rolled around, y/n buried herself in the physicality of soccer, pushing herself harder and harder, trying to ignore the pain that came with every memory of jaemin. the sound of the ball hitting the net, the exhaustion in her legs, and the focus she poured into every drill kept her distracted.

but even on the field, she couldn’t escape the tension that seemed to hang in the air, especially with the boys’ team practicing at the same time. jaemin’s eyes followed her movements from across the field, and every glance they shared sent a sharp pang through her heart.

jeno, on the other hand, remained a steady presence. unlike jaemin, he didn’t force his way into y/n’s life. he never pushed her for answers or sought her forgiveness. he simply existed alongside her, a quiet anchor in a storm that felt like it would never end.

on the field, jeno’s style of play was as smooth and calculated as ever. he had always been a naturally gifted player, but there was something different about him now. his usual cheerful demeanor had become more reserved, and his focus seemed laser-sharp, as if he was trying to block out his own emotions. y/n couldn’t help but notice the way jeno’s eyes lingered on her whenever they passed one another during drills. he was always there, watching from the sidelines, but never intruding.

during a particularly brutal practice, y/n was pushing herself beyond her limits, running drills until her legs burned with exhaustion. it was a typical coping mechanism for her—distracting herself with the physical. but as she sprinted down the field, her vision blurred, and her foot caught unevenly on the turf. she fell hard, the impact of the ground knocking the air out of her lungs.

she lay there for a moment, struggling to catch her breath. her teammates rushed over, but the one who reached her first was jeno.

“y/n! are you okay?” his voice was laced with concern, his hands hovering over her body as if afraid to touch her.

y/n winced as she tried to push herself up, but the pain in her ankle was immediate and sharp. “i’m fine,” she said quickly, brushing him off, though it was clear she wasn’t.

jeno knelt beside her, his gaze softening. “let me help you,” he said gently. he offered his hand, and despite herself, y/n took it.

she leaned on him as he helped her to her feet, his steady presence offering her the comfort she didn’t know she needed. “i’ll take you to the trainer,” jeno suggested, already beginning to walk with her towards the sideline.

y/n didn’t protest. she let him guide her away from the field, away from the eyes of her teammates, and the watchful gaze of jaemin, who stood from a distance, watching the exchange with a mix of frustration and guilt.

the next few days were filled with rest and rehabilitation for y/n’s injury, and as she hobbled around campus on crutches, she found herself once again caught between two worlds. jaemin tried to reach out, of course, apologizing over and over for the distance between them, but every word from him felt like a reminder of everything she had lost.

jeno, on the other hand, continued to show up quietly in the background. his support didn’t demand anything from her, but it was clear that he was there—always just close enough to make sure she was okay, but never forcing anything. and as much as y/n tried to ignore the growing feelings inside her, it was getting harder and harder to do so.

one evening, while y/n was working on a paper in the library, she received a text from jeno.

“how’s the ankle?”

it was simple, direct, and caring. she hesitated before replying, unsure of what to say. her thoughts were all over the place—too tangled in confusion, frustration, and the quiet ache that seemed to settle in her chest every time she thought of jeno’s kindness.

“it’s getting better, thanks to you.” she typed quickly, then set her phone down, trying to refocus on her work.

a few moments later, her phone buzzed again, and y/n’s heart skipped when she saw the next message.

“i’m glad to hear that. let me know if you need anything.”

y/n smiled softly, her heart pounding in her chest as she read his words. there was something about jeno’s quiet presence that made her feel safe, something she hadn’t realized she’d been missing until now.

the crisp autumn air bit at y/n’s skin as she walked across campus, her ankle feeling better but her heart heavier than ever. she had spent the last few weeks trying to bury herself in her work, her studies, and soccer, but no matter how much she focused on the physical, the emotional chaos just wouldn’t go away. jaemin’s attempts to contact her had become relentless, and no matter how many times she rejected him, he wouldn’t stop.

she was almost used to it by now. almost.

today, however, was different. jaemin had finally sent her a message that broke through her defenses:

“we need to talk. please.”

it felt like a simple request. but after everything they had been through, after all the hurt, y/n wasn’t sure if talking could ever fix what had been broken. she had spent too much time trying to rebuild herself after his betrayal. she wasn’t sure she had any pieces left to give.

jeno had been quiet these days, and y/n was beginning to notice the subtle shifts in him. he had always been there for her, his presence a constant source of comfort, but lately, there was something different in the way he looked at her. something soft, something almost... protective.

she wasn’t blind. she knew that jeno’s feelings for her had shifted over time. he had been the quiet, steady support when she needed it, but now, his concern for her seemed to go beyond just friendship. it was something deeper, something unspoken.

but where did that leave her? she wasn’t ready to think about moving on from jaemin, but at the same time, she couldn’t keep clinging to someone who had hurt her so badly.

y/n stood at the edge of the field, her eyes trained on the boys' team as they finished practice. she couldn’t help herself; she looked for jaemin. his back was to her, but she could still make out the tension in his posture, the way he hesitated before he turned to speak to his teammates.

for a moment, she thought about walking over to him. but then, the thought of everything he had done—everything he had destroyed—stopped her in her tracks.

she turned instead and walked toward the locker room, where she knew jeno would be waiting. it had become a routine of sorts. after every practice, jeno would stick around to make sure she was okay, despite her attempts to push him away.

this time, though, there was something different in the air.

jeno was already sitting on the bench in the locker room when she entered, looking down at his phone. he didn’t look up as she walked in, but y/n could feel his gaze shift toward her as soon as she sat down next to him.

“you’re not practicing today?” she asked, trying to keep the conversation casual. it was the usual way they interacted—friendly, easygoing, without any pressure. but today, the air between them felt thick with unspoken words.

jeno shrugged, putting his phone down on the bench next to him. “just wanted to check on you. i know your ankle’s still recovering, so i thought maybe we could grab lunch after this.” his voice was calm, but there was an underlying urgency, like he was waiting for something.

y/n smiled softly, grateful for his consideration. “lunch sounds good,” she agreed, trying to shake off the weight of the thoughts swirling in her head.

but before they could continue their conversation, the door to the locker room creaked open, and y/n froze. she hadn’t expected anyone else to be here, but when she saw jaemin step through the door, her stomach dropped.

he paused when he saw them sitting together, his eyes briefly flicking to jeno, then back to y/n. his jaw clenched, and for a moment, no one spoke.

finally, jaemin broke the silence. “can we talk?” his voice was tight, hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure how to approach her.

y/n didn’t respond immediately. her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel jeno’s eyes on her, waiting for her to make a decision. she glanced at him briefly, silently asking for guidance, but jeno simply gave her a small nod, as though telling her to handle it however she needed to.

with a sigh, y/n stood up, brushing past jaemin as she made her way to the door. she had spent so many days avoiding this moment, but now, she couldn’t put it off any longer.

jaemin followed her outside, but they both remained silent as they walked to a quieter part of campus. y/n was doing everything she could to keep her emotions in check, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” jaemin finally said, his voice low. “i know i messed up, but i need to apologize. i can’t keep pretending like nothing happened. you and i... we were everything to each other, and i know i broke that. but i need you to know how sorry i am, y/n.”

y/n bit her lip, trying to steady her breathing. she had heard these words so many times before. the apologies. the regret. but the damage had already been done.

“you don’t get to apologize anymore, jaemin,” y/n replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “you don’t get to make things right after what you did. i gave you everything, and you destroyed it. you don’t just get to walk back into my life and fix everything with a few words.”

jaemin flinched at her words, his face falling as he saw the raw pain in her eyes. “i know. i know i can’t fix it, and i don’t expect you to forgive me. i just... i need you to know how much i regret it. how much i miss us.”

y/n shook her head, stepping back a little. “it’s too late for that. i can’t go back to what we were, jaemin. i can’t pretend that nothing happened.”

for a long moment, there was nothing but silence between them. jaemin’s eyes were filled with sorrow, but y/n couldn’t bring herself to feel pity. she had loved him more than anything, but now, all she could feel was the aching emptiness he had left behind.

as she turned to leave, jaemin reached out, his hand brushing against her arm. “i still love you,” he whispered.

y/n stiffened at the words, but she didn’t turn back. she couldn’t. “i’m sorry, jaemin. but i can’t love you anymore.”

y/n walked away, her heart heavy, but strangely lighter than it had been in months. saying those words to jaemin—admitting that she couldn’t love him anymore—was the hardest thing she’d ever done. but it also felt like a release. she wasn’t sure what came next, but for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could finally start moving forward.

she didn’t look back, but she couldn’t ignore the quiet ache that lingered in her chest.

as she made her way back toward the locker room, she found jeno waiting by the door, his eyes filled with concern. he didn’t say anything at first—he didn’t need to. his presence was enough.

without a word, y/n walked over to him, and jeno, sensing the weight of the moment, wrapped his arm around her. the silence between them was comforting in its own way, as if jeno understood that sometimes, words weren’t necessary.

and for the first time in a long while, y/n allowed herself to rest in the quiet support jeno offered, uncertain of what the future held, but feeling—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, things could get better.

the days following her confrontation with jaemin felt like a blur. classes, soccer practices, and social events all blended together into a single haze. y/n found herself moving through life on autopilot, her mind always drifting back to the conversation she had with jaemin. the weight of his words, the intensity of his gaze, stayed with her even after she tried to push it all aside.

she avoided jaemin as much as she could. he tried to approach her between classes or at the campus café, but y/n would make excuses to slip away, her heart too fragile to face him again. she didn’t know if she was ready to face the emotions that would inevitably come with it. she couldn’t trust him again, and the hurt still felt fresh.

jeno, on the other hand, was a quiet presence in her life. he was still there, offering her the same unwavering support that he always had. but y/n began to feel the subtle shift in his behavior. he was quieter now, his gestures more lingering. sometimes, when their hands brushed or when he’d pass her a comforting smile, she caught the fleeting glint of something deeper in his eyes.

she didn’t want to acknowledge it—she wasn’t ready to confront it—but the truth was impossible to ignore. jeno was falling for her.

one afternoon after practice, y/n lingered in the locker room, tying her shoes slowly, hoping the rest of the team would leave first so she wouldn’t have to face anyone. but when the door opened, it wasn’t one of her teammates—it was jeno.

"hey," he greeted her softly, his voice warm, but there was a certain hesitance to it, as if he was unsure how to act around her now.

y/n gave him a small, tired smile, forcing herself to appear less bothered than she truly felt. “hey, jeno. what’s up?”

jeno walked in and leaned against the lockers, crossing his arms as he looked at her. “i was just thinking... we haven’t had much of a chance to talk lately, huh?”

y/n chuckled quietly, although it was tinged with sadness. “yeah, i guess you could say that. everything’s been a little... chaotic.”

he nodded, his gaze softening. “i get it. but i miss our talks. it’s not the same without you around.”

the sincerity in his voice made her stomach flutter. she could see the concern in his eyes, but more than that, she could see something that made her heart ache—a deep, unwavering loyalty, and maybe something more.

“i’m sorry,” she said, almost in a whisper, as she looked away from him. “i’ve been... distant. i just... need some time, jeno.”

“i know,” he replied, his voice gentle. “i’m not rushing you. but i’m still here, y/n. whenever you’re ready.”

she nodded, trying to push away the lump in her throat. jeno had always been there for her, through everything. but now, as she stood facing him, it felt like the weight of their friendship was shifting, and she wasn’t sure how to navigate the new dynamic.

“i appreciate that,” she murmured, her voice thick with unspoken emotions.

jeno hesitated before taking a step closer. “you don’t have to face all of this alone. i’m not going anywhere.”

y/n could feel her heart racing. jeno’s words, the way he always made her feel safe and understood, it was hard to ignore. but the thought of opening herself up to him—of acknowledging the way he might feel—was terrifying. she wasn’t sure she was ready to go there, not yet. not after everything she had just been through with jaemin.

“i know,” she whispered, barely meeting his gaze. “but i need some space. just for now.”

jeno didn’t push further. he simply nodded, his expression unreadable. he stepped back, turning toward the door.

“i’ll give you that,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “but don’t forget, i’m here. whenever you need me.”

y/n’s chest tightened, and she quickly turned away to avoid looking at him. she couldn’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, especially when she knew she wasn’t ready to reciprocate the feelings he had for her.

but no matter how much she tried to push it away, a part of her was drawn to him. jeno had always been there when she needed him the most, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough to make her believe that something could still work between them.

but not now. not yet.

over the next few weeks, the tension between y/n, jaemin, and jeno only seemed to grow. jaemin’s attempts to reconcile with her became more frequent, but every time he tried to approach, y/n would shut him down. the thought of reopening the wounds he had caused was unbearable.

on the other hand, jeno remained patient. he didn’t push her, and he didn’t ask for anything. but y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that he was waiting for her—waiting for her to come around, waiting for her to finally admit that she might feel the same way.

it was a confusing time. she had spent so long focusing on healing from jaemin’s betrayal, that the idea of a relationship with jeno felt overwhelming. she wasn’t sure she could trust herself to be open to someone again, let alone open herself up to someone who had always been by her side.

one evening, as the team wrapped up practice, y/n found herself walking alongside jeno as they made their way to the locker room. the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the field.

“i’m glad you came today,” jeno said casually, his voice carrying a quiet intensity that made her heart beat faster. “it’s been a while since we really talked.”

y/n glanced at him, noticing the way he was looking at her—serious, but kind. “i know,” she replied, her voice quiet. “i’ve just been... trying to figure things out.”

jeno didn’t push her. instead, he simply nodded, his gaze softening. “i get it. and whenever you’re ready to talk, i’ll be here.”

y/n felt something in her chest tighten at his words. it wasn’t that she didn’t care for him—she did, in a way that felt deep and complex. but right now, she wasn’t ready to confront the emotional storm inside her. the pain of jaemin’s betrayal still loomed large, and the thought of opening her heart again, even to jeno, was terrifying.

“thanks, jeno,” she murmured, giving him a small, appreciative smile.

they reached the locker room, and as y/n stepped inside, she caught one last glance at jeno. his face was unreadable, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes, something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge yet.

it was a wednesday afternoon when everything came to a head. the girls’ team had just wrapped up a grueling practice, and as y/n was stretching on the sideline, her eyes caught the boys’ team warming up across the field. jaemin was leading their drills, his movements fluid and confident, but there was something in his posture that struck her—a defensiveness, a tension in his shoulders that was unlike him.

y/n turned her attention back to her own teammates, but the sight of jaemin lingered in her mind. for the past few weeks, she had kept her distance from him, and yet the unresolved feelings between them never fully faded. she wasn’t sure if she missed the person he was or if she was just mourning the idea of their relationship, the future they could have had before everything fell apart.

“y/n?” her teammate’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she looked up to find her friend standing over her, a concerned expression on her face. “are you okay?”

y/n forced a smile. “yeah, just... tired.”

her teammate wasn’t convinced. “you’ve been off lately. is it still about jaemin?”

y/n paused. she had tried so hard to avoid talking about him, not wanting to reopen the wounds, but it was clear that her friend wasn’t going to let it go.

“i don’t know,” y/n admitted, her voice quieter than she intended. “i’m just... still confused. i don’t know what to feel anymore.”

her friend sighed, sitting down beside her. “you know, sometimes, it’s better to just let things go. you can’t control how people change, or how they hurt you. but you can control how you let it affect you.”

y/n nodded, even though she wasn’t sure she agreed. it wasn’t that simple. her heart felt shattered, torn between two people—jaemin, the boy she once thought she’d spend forever with, and jeno, the one who had been there all along, waiting patiently for her to figure things out.

later that evening, as y/n walked through campus, she caught sight of jeno sitting alone on a bench by the dorms, his gaze fixed on the ground. there was something about his posture, something resigned, that pulled at her heart. despite everything, he was always there, offering her his steady support.

without thinking, y/n found herself walking toward him.

“jeno?” she called softly as she approached.

he looked up, surprised, his expression softening as he saw her. “y/n. hey.”

“mind if i sit?” she asked, her voice tentative, unsure of what she was looking for in this moment.

“of course not.” he moved over to make room for her, and she sat down beside him, the space between them familiar and comforting in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

for a long moment, neither of them spoke. the only sound between them was the rustle of leaves in the wind, the quiet hum of campus life in the distance.

y/n turned to him, her gaze searching his face. “jeno... i don’t know what to do anymore. with everything. with jaemin, with—”

“you don’t have to figure it all out right now,” jeno interrupted gently, his voice calm. “you don’t have to have all the answers. just... take your time. we’ll figure it out together.”

there was so much comfort in his words, in the way he was always steady when everything else felt uncertain. y/n wanted to believe him, to believe that things could still work between them, but the weight of her past with jaemin made it hard to fully embrace the idea.

“you’ve always been there for me,” y/n said quietly, her voice cracking slightly. “and i don’t want to hurt you, jeno. i just... i don’t know what’s right anymore.”

jeno gave her a small, understanding smile, the kind of smile that made her chest ache. “i’m not going anywhere, y/n. whenever you’re ready, i’ll be here. but i’m not going to push you.”

y/n could feel the sincerity in his words, and it hit her in a way she hadn’t expected. he wasn’t asking for anything. he wasn’t demanding that she figure it all out right away. he was just here, present, ready to support her no matter what.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “i’ve been so focused on trying to figure out what happened with jaemin that i didn’t even think about... what i might be doing to you.”

“y/n,” jeno said gently, reaching out to place a hand on hers. “you don’t owe me anything. i’ve always cared about you, and i always will. i just want you to be okay.”

her breath hitched in her throat, the weight of his words settling deep in her chest. for a moment, y/n felt the warmth of his hand in hers, the comfort of knowing that she wasn’t alone in this mess.

but the conflicting emotions inside her heart refused to subside. she wasn’t sure what she wanted, or who she wanted it with.

the weeks after the conversation with jeno felt like an emotional maze for y/n. each day brought with it new questions, new doubts, and a growing sense of uncertainty. every time she saw jaemin, her heart ached with the weight of what had been—what could have been. and whenever jeno’s eyes found hers, she felt the pang of guilt from not being able to fully let go of the past.

y/n had always prided herself on being able to handle difficult situations, to keep her emotions in check. but this was different. this wasn’t just a matter of keeping her focus during a soccer match or acing an exam. this was her heart, her friendships, her relationships—all tangled together in a mess of pain, betrayal, and longing.

she could no longer ignore the tension that had been building between the three of them. jaemin had been trying, in his own way, to reach out to her—whether through small gestures or the occasional message, but every attempt only seemed to pull her deeper into the emotional whirlwind she had been trying so hard to avoid.

and jeno... jeno, who had been nothing but supportive and patient, was beginning to look more and more like the person y/n should have turned to when everything fell apart. but the guilt of not being able to reciprocate his feelings was beginning to eat away at her.

it was during one of the rare moments when she was alone in the quiet of her dorm room, reflecting on everything, that y/n received a text from jaemin.

can we talk?

the words were simple, but they sent a shiver through her. she hadn’t heard from him like this in weeks—not since their last confrontation. she had been avoiding him, avoiding the rawness of their past, but now... now he was reaching out again, and she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

her fingers hovered over her phone as her heart raced in her chest. she wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear what he had to say, or if she even wanted to face him again. but she knew she had to. for her own peace of mind, she needed closure, even if it hurt.

when? she typed back, trying to mask the uncertainty in her voice.

now?

with a deep breath, she stood up, grabbed her jacket, and left the dorm. the campus was quiet at this time of night, the only sounds the distant hum of streetlights and the occasional rustling of leaves. her steps felt heavy as she walked toward the park where they had agreed to meet. the cool air did little to ease the tightness in her chest, and the closer she got to the park, the more she felt like she was walking into a storm.

jaemin was already sitting on a bench when she arrived, his back to her. he didn’t hear her approach, and for a moment, y/n just stood there, watching him. his shoulders were hunched, his posture stiff, but there was something about the way he sat that made her heart ache.

he was still the boy she loved, despite everything.

when he finally turned to see her, his expression was a mixture of relief and something more vulnerable—something that made y/n’s chest tighten.

“y/n,” jaemin’s voice was soft, like he was afraid she might disappear if he spoke too loudly. “i—” he paused, taking in a shaky breath. “i’m sorry. for everything. for what i did to you... and to jeno.”

y/n felt her throat tighten at the mention of jeno, but she didn’t interrupt. she needed to hear him out, even if it hurt.

“i was stupid,” jaemin continued, his voice cracking slightly. “i wasn’t thinking. i let my insecurities take over, and i hurt you in ways that i’ll never be able to take back.”

she looked at him, unsure of what to say. the words she wanted to say were stuck somewhere deep inside her, caught between anger and hurt, love and regret.

“you hurt me, jaemin,” she finally said, her voice soft but firm. “and not just once. over and over again.”

jaemin’s face fell, guilt overtaking his features. “i know,” he whispered, his eyes dropping to the ground. “i don’t expect you to forgive me. but i need you to know that i regret it. every day.”

y/n took a step back, her arms wrapping around herself as if trying to shield her heart. “i don’t know if i can ever forgive you. not the way i used to. not the way you want me to.”

jaemin’s face twisted in pain, but he nodded, as if he had expected that response. “i understand. i’m not asking you to forget, y/n. i just... i just wanted you to know that i’m sorry. i didn’t want to lose you.”

y/n’s chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice, but she could feel the walls she had built around herself strengthening. “you already did, jaemin. you lost me the moment you chose someone else.”

the words were harsh, but they were true. and as much as they hurt, they were the closure she needed.

for a long time, neither of them spoke. the silence between them was thick, filled with the weight of everything that had been said and everything that had been left unsaid.

finally, jaemin stood, and as he looked at her one last time, something in his eyes shifted—like he understood that this was it. he wasn’t going to get another chance to make things right, and y/n wasn’t going to allow herself to be pulled back into the same painful cycle.

“i’ll always care about you, jaemin” yn said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

jaemin nodded, his throat tight. “and i’ll always remember what we had. but i can’t keep living in the past.”

with that, she turned and walked away, her steps slow and deliberate. she didn’t look back as jaemin stood there yelling out apologies and begging her to come back”

the tension in the air was palpable. ever since the conversation with jaemin in the park, y/n had done her best to move forward. she had thrown herself into her training, trying to focus on her game and get through each day without the constant weight of the past on her shoulders. but it wasn’t that simple.

jaemin wasn’t just a shadow lingering in the back of her mind anymore; he was there, in her peripheral vision, always there. and with him came the rising tension—the tension that came with his jealousy, his frustration, and his desperate attempts to claw back something he had lost.

y/n had started to notice it on the field. it wasn’t just during practices anymore—jaemin’s jealousy was showing in the little moments. in the way his eyes would narrow every time jeno passed the ball to her, or how his voice would take on a sharp edge when he spoke to her, as if anything related to jeno irritated him. it was subtle at first—small, passive-aggressive comments about how “jeno seemed to think he was part of the girls’ team now,” or how “jeno must be really close to y/n to know exactly where all her classes are and her practice schedule”

but as the weeks went on, it became harder for y/n to ignore.

after a game one evening, where the boys’ team had played a particularly grueling match, jaemin cornered her in the locker room, his voice low and tense.

“do you really think it’s a good idea, spending so much time with jeno?” he asked, arms crossed over his chest. his eyes were dark, and his jaw clenched tightly.

y/n’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “what do you mean? jeno and i are friends,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

jaemin’s eyes flashed with something sharp—anger, maybe, or something darker. “i’m just saying. you’ve been hanging around him a lot lately. too much, don’t you think?” his tone was almost mocking, but it was laced with something else.

y/n took a step back, surprised at his words. “what’s your problem, jaemin?” she asked, the frustration in her voice growing. “jeno’s been nothing but supportive of me. we’ve been friends since freshman year.”

jaemin let out a short laugh, his gaze flickering to the ground before meeting hers again. “yeah, sure. friends. i bet that’s all it is. just friends,” he muttered bitterly, turning away from her with an almost sarcastic wave of his hand. “i’ll leave you to your ‘friendship’ then.”

y/n’s chest tightened, hurt flashing through her. she had never expected jaemin to be like this—not after everything they had been through. but his words, his tone—everything about him was dripping with jealousy. she could feel it, even in the space between them.

for a moment, neither of them spoke. the silence was heavy, suffocating. jaemin finally turned, his back to her, and y/n didn’t know whether to scream or walk away.

the rest of the night passed in a blur. she tried her best to shake off the encounter, but it kept replaying in her mind. jaemin had always been possessive, but this... this was different. his jealousy was like a storm brewing just beneath the surface, ready to spill over at any moment.

jaemin’s behavior began to worsen. he started making excuses to avoid speaking to y/n altogether, but when they did interact, his words were laced with bitterness, as if he was punishing her for things that weren’t her fault. he would drop little comments about her and jeno, as if testing the waters, pushing her boundaries to see how much she would take before finally snapping.

one night, after another game, the breaking point came. jaemin pulled y/n aside in the parking lot, his face twisted in anger.

“why are you so close to him? why can’t you see it, y/n? i’m the one who’s been there for you. i’m the one who’s always supported you!” jaemin’s voice was low, but it was shaking with frustration. “i’ve been waiting for you to come around. but you keep pushing me away for him!”

y/n’s eyes widened as his words sank in, and for the first time in a long while, she felt her own anger flare up.

“i’ve never asked you to do that, jaemin!” she shot back, her voice cracking. “you don’t get to treat me like this just because you’re a selfish asshole! you broke my trust, and now you’re making it worse by acting like i owe you something.”

jaemin’s expression faltered, and for a moment, y/n saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes. but it was quickly replaced by frustration, and he stormed off, leaving y/n standing there, her heart racing.

she stood in the parking lot for a long time, trying to calm her breath, but the ache in her chest only grew.

jaemin had become more unpredictable, his behavior erratic. the once carefree, joking boy she had fallen for had been replaced by someone who was bitter, angry, and manipulative.

and jeno... jeno, who had always been there for her, was caught in the middle. y/n could see how much it was hurting him to watch jaemin spiral, but he stayed quiet. he didn’t push her to choose between them. he never had.

but y/n could feel the weight of it all, the pull of the past and the future, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep pretending that everything was okay.

the tension was becoming unbearable. jaemin’s jealousy was no longer something she could ignore. it was poisoning everything, and y/n wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep herself from falling into the same trap again.

y/n had never felt so torn between two people she once thought she could rely on. jaemin had been her everything once—her best friend, her confidant, the one who’d held her hand through all of life’s uncertainties. but somewhere along the way, he had betrayed her trust, broken their bond, and left her to pick up the pieces of her heart. then there was jeno, who had quietly stood by her side, never pushing her, but always present, in a way she couldn’t ignore anymore.

junior year was almost over, and with it, the façade y/n had put up for so long. she had tried so hard to balance the pain jaemin had caused her with the tenderness she felt from jeno. she’d buried the anger, the hurt, and the confusion, but it was all bubbling up now, and she couldn’t hold it in any longer. the exhaustion was overwhelming. every interaction with jaemin felt like a warzone, and every moment with jeno felt like a bittersweet reminder of what could’ve been. she was drained—emotionally, mentally, physically—and she knew something had to give.

it happened after a particularly tense practice. the girls had just finished their drills when she spotted jaemin and jeno across the field, talking, but there was an edge to their conversation that y/n couldn’t ignore. jaemin’s body language was rigid, and jeno’s face was unreadable. there was too much unspoken history between the three of them, and y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that she was standing on the sidelines of her own life, watching as the people she cared about most drifted further apart.

y/n waited until practice ended, when jaemin finally approached her. she’d been dreading this moment, but she knew it was coming. he had been quiet for days, and she couldn’t pretend anymore.

“y/n,” jaemin’s voice was soft but urgent, like he needed her to understand. “we need to talk.”

she nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. the air felt thick between them, charged with everything they hadn’t said, everything they hadn’t resolved.

“jaemin,” she began, her voice steady but strained. “i don’t think we can keep pretending like everything's okay.”

jaemin’s face tightened, his hands shifting nervously at his sides. “i don’t want to lose you, y/n. i know i screwed up. but i can’t keep living in this tension with you. i miss you. i miss us.”

y/n’s chest tightened, her heart pounding in her ears. “i don’t know if i can forgive you, jaemin,” she said, her voice wavering. “what you did… it broke me. and the way you’ve treated jeno—it’s not fair to either of us.”

jaemin flinched, but y/n pressed on, needing to say the words she had been holding back for so long.

“you don’t get to demand my forgiveness,” she continued, her voice growing stronger with each word. “i’ve spent the past year trying to figure out if i can ever trust you again, and i can’t. you hurt me in ways i don’t even know how to explain. i’m tired of pretending like i’m okay with it.”

tears welled up in jaemin’s eyes, but he didn’t say anything at first. he simply stood there, absorbing her words. his face twisted with guilt and sadness, but there was also something else there—a recognition of the truth she had finally voiced.

“i’m sorry, y/n,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. i never wanted to lose you.”

the pain in his voice almost broke her, but y/n stood firm. she had to.

“i need to focus on myself now, jaemin,” she said, her voice shaking with the weight of the decision. “i can’t keep holding onto something that isn’t there anymore. i need space. from you. from everything.”

jaemin’s face crumpled as he nodded, unable to find the words to respond. but y/n didn’t wait for him to say anything else. she turned and walked away, feeling her heart shatter with every step she took, but also feeling lighter—like she had finally made the decision she needed to make.

later that evening, y/n found herself on the bench outside, her thoughts racing. she was still shaken by the confrontation, her emotions raw. but in the quiet moments, she started to realize something she hadn’t fully acknowledged before: how much she had been leaning on jeno. his quiet support, his gentle encouragement, the way he had been there for her without pushing her, without trying to fix everything—he had become her anchor.

she didn’t know when it had shifted, but somewhere along the way, jeno had become more than just her friend. she had relied on him in ways she hadn’t wanted to admit. and now, as she thought about everything that had happened with jaemin, she realized that maybe—just maybe—there was a part of her that had been falling for jeno all along. she didn’t know what that meant for her, or for their friendship, but she couldn’t ignore the feeling growing in her chest.

the thought made her heart race, but she couldn’t bring herself to face it fully just yet. the pain from everything with jaemin was still too fresh, too raw.

the next few weeks were a blur. jaemin withdrew further into himself, giving y/n the space she had demanded. the boys’ team continued on , and the girls’ team was stronger than ever. jeno remained by her side, a steady presence in a world that felt like it was crumbling.

y/n didn’t know what would happen next. she wasn’t sure if she was ready to open her heart to jeno or if she was still too broken from the past. but she knew one thing for sure: she couldn’t keep living in the past, and she couldn’t keep running from the feelings she had for him. it was time for her to figure out who she was—without jaemin, without jeno, and without the weight of their mistakes on her shoulders.

SENIOR YEAR

as senior year begins, the weight of the past hangs heavily over y/n, jaemin, and jeno. it’s like an invisible wall between y/n and jaemin—every interaction charged with the ghosts of their past and the pain of betrayal. y/n can’t shake the memories of jaemin’s infidelity, and despite the months that have passed since, the scars are still raw. she’s exhausted from carrying the burden of their broken relationship and the emotional toll it’s taken on her.

jaemin, on the other hand, is still consumed by guilt. the boy who once had so much confidence and charm has become a shadow of himself. his attempts to reach out to y/n—through small gestures, texts, and even the occasional private conversation—are met with indifference. every time he apologizes, y/n’s response is distant, noncommittal, and filled with pain. she can't forgive him, not yet. maybe not ever.

jaemin, desperate to regain her trust, falls into a cycle of self-doubt. he can’t let go of the fact that he betrayed her, and the realization that he’s lost her, perhaps forever, only feeds his spiraling behavior. he starts showing up late to practice, missing key training sessions, and losing focus on the field. his performance begins to falter, his frustration growing, but he refuses to confront the root of his issues—his inability to move forward from the guilt and shame he feels.

the boys' team, once cohesive, begins to feel the strain. jeno, still trying to be a support system for both y/n and jaemin, finds himself caught in the middle. he’s seen firsthand how much y/n has suffered, and he can’t help but feel the bitterness growing between the two people who once meant so much to him. but he’s also aware of how much jaemin is spiraling, how his emotional instability is affecting their entire team dynamic.

meanwhile, y/n grows more withdrawn. she can no longer pretend that everything is fine. every time she sees jaemin, her heart aches with the memory of his betrayal. she wishes she could hate him—make it easier to move on—but that’s not who she is. instead, she retreats into herself, focusing on her studies and soccer, trying to drown out the emotional noise.

her relationship with jeno deepens as he becomes the one constant in her life. while jeno doesn’t push her to talk, he’s always there, offering quiet comfort. they continue their friendship, but the more time y/n spends with him, the more she realizes just how much she’s come to rely on him. he’s not the reason she’s avoiding jaemin, but in his own quiet way, jeno becomes her safe space. it’s unspoken, the bond that’s forming between them, but it’s undeniable.

jaemin can’t stand it. watching y/n grow closer to jeno only feeds his jealousy. he tries to lash out, throwing passive-aggressive comments at jeno, but the latter doesn’t react. the distance between jaemin and y/n only grows wider as jaemin's self-destructive behavior intensifies. his jealousy becomes palpable, but he doesn’t know how to deal with it, except by pulling away more and more. it’s a vicious cycle: the more he pushes, the more y/n pulls away, and the more it fuels his resentment.

through all of this, y/n remains steadfast in her belief that she needs to focus on herself. she can't afford to fall back into the toxic cycle she once had with jaemin. but the weight of her feelings for both him and jeno is starting to take its toll on her. she knows she can’t keep juggling the expectations, the unresolved emotions, and the pressure to maintain the facade of normalcy.

jaemin’s attempts to make amends only seem to create more tension. every apology, every moment where he reaches out, is now a reminder of the trust that has been broken. it’s like a broken record—his words seem hollow, and y/n is no longer willing to listen.

jaemin reaches his breaking point when he realizes that no matter how much he tries, y/n isn’t going to forgive him. his emotional volatility begins to affect his performance on the field in ways it never has before. his usual charisma and leadership are replaced with frustration and irritability. it’s a clear sign to those around him that he’s struggling, but he refuses to confront his issues. instead, he turns inward, spiraling further into his guilt.

jeno, however, notices. he sees through jaemin’s facade. he’s been friends with jaemin long enough to know that this isn’t the jaemin he remembers. but jeno has his own burdens. he’s not just trying to support y/n; he’s silently dealing with his own feelings for her. watching her suffer because of jaemin only fuels his protective instincts. he wants to be there for her—wants to be the one she turns to when everything falls apart.

as senior year progresses, the tension between y/n and jaemin only grows. jaemin’s efforts to fix things are becoming more desperate, while y/n remains resolute in her decision to protect her heart. jeno watches the two of them, helpless in the middle, but trying to give y/n the space she needs to heal.

but the cracks are becoming more visible. jaemin’s self-destructive behavior is starting to cost him more than just his relationship with y/n; it’s affecting his relationships with everyone around him. and as y/n moves further away from him, she finds herself looking toward jeno more and more—unsure of what the future holds but realizing that perhaps the person who’s been there all along might be the one who helps her pick up the pieces of her broken heart.

as the months of senior year drag on, jaemin’s inability to move past his mistakes continues to take its toll, not only on his personal life but also on his career as a soccer player. the once-confident, charismatic team captain has fallen from grace, and his internal turmoil is becoming more apparent with every passing day. his guilt over betraying y/n, combined with the increasing pressure of trying to rebuild their broken relationship, is starting to unravel him.

on the field, jaemin is nowhere near the player he once was. his focus is scattered, his energy is off, and he’s constantly distracted. his once natural leadership is now overshadowed by his inability to keep it together. his performance on the field has been slipping for weeks, but it's not until a crucial game against a rival school that his reckless behavior finally leads to a major setback for the boys’ team.

the game is everything. it’s the deciding match for whether they’ll advance to the regional championships. jaemin, feeling the weight of the stakes and overwhelmed by the pressure to redeem himself, becomes reckless. he overcompensates, trying to push himself too hard in the heat of the game, desperate to prove his worth to everyone—his teammates, the coaches, and especially y/n. but in his haste, he makes a catastrophic mistake: a poorly timed pass leads to a turnover that results in a crucial goal for the other team, setting his squad back in an irreversible way.

the crowd’s disappointment is palpable, and the coaches’ frustration is evident as they pull jaemin from the field. his teammates’ silent judgment cuts deeper than anything he’s ever felt. jaemin can’t bring himself to face them or the consequences of his actions. the guilt floods in once more, but it’s different now. it’s not just the guilt of hurting y/n—it’s the overwhelming realization that he’s failed everyone around him, including himself.

after the game, jaemin isolates himself even further. he can’t face his teammates, who are all visibly frustrated with him. instead of seeking comfort from those who might understand, he withdraws. it’s a familiar feeling—the loneliness that has haunted him throughout the year—but it feels heavier now. every failure feels like it’s stacking on top of him, weighing him down with the realization that he has no one to turn to.

meanwhile, jeno begins to rise in prominence. his performance during the game is flawless, and his leadership shines through, even in the wake of jaemin’s mistake. he is the one who steps up, leading the boys' team to salvage what they can from the game and earning the respect and admiration that jaemin can no longer seem to command.

the contrast is stark: where jaemin once was the leader, jeno now shines. jaemin can see it all too clearly. jeno’s humility and grace on the field, his consistent performance, and his ability to be there for his teammates in the toughest of moments have earned him the spotlight jaemin so desperately craves but can no longer hold. the more jaemin watches jeno succeed, the deeper his sense of failure grows.

it’s not just on the field. jeno has also become a constant presence in y/n’s life. as the two of them spend more time together, their bond strengthens, and jaemin can’t ignore how close they’ve become. every glance, every shared smile between them feels like a reminder of what he’s lost—not only in terms of soccer but in terms of his relationship with y/n. the jealousy simmers beneath the surface, but jaemin is too wrapped up in his self-destructive thoughts to confront it head-on.

for the first time in his life, jaemin feels like a failure—not just to his teammates, but to himself. he’s become consumed by his guilt, bitterness, and jealousy. instead of redeeming himself, he has pushed y/n further away, sabotaged his friendships, and watched as jeno quietly earned everything jaemin thought was his.

the emotional weight is almost unbearable. jaemin can no longer deny that he’s lost control of his life, both on and off the field. and as he watches jeno rise, he’s faced with the stark reality: the man he once was, the person he thought he could be, is slipping away. the question now isn’t about how he can get y/n back—it’s about whether he can fix himself before he loses everything.

as the months of senior year wear on, jeno’s role in y/n’s life becomes more integral than ever before. he’s always been there, supporting her quietly from the sidelines, respecting her boundaries without ever pushing for more. after everything that’s happened with jaemin, y/n has learned to rely on jeno in ways she never thought she would. despite the wreckage of the past, jeno has never faltered in his loyalty to her. and now, as she continues to heal from the heartbreak and confusion jaemin left behind, jeno’s presence is one of the few constants she can cling to.

jeno never pressures her for anything, never expects anything in return. he simply is there. he shows up in ways that are subtle but meaningful—checking in with her after tough practices, offering a quiet word of encouragement when she’s feeling defeated, and being a steady presence during moments of vulnerability. y/n, still grappling with the emotional weight of her past, finds comfort in his steadiness. she knows she can count on him, no matter what. he’s the one person she can trust without hesitation, a stark contrast to the chaos that has surrounded her love life over the past two years.

while their connection remains primarily rooted in friendship, the way jeno has been there for her throughout the years starts to leave a deeper imprint on y/n. there’s a calmness to him that’s easy to be drawn to—a quiet strength that doesn’t demand attention but can always be relied upon. in a way, jeno is the anchor y/n never knew she needed. his patience and understanding provide her with the safe space she’s been craving, and as they spend more time together, y/n begins to realize just how much he means to her.

jeno’s support has been unwavering, even when the weight of jaemin’s actions and her own self-doubt have threatened to pull her under. jeno listens without judgment when she opens up about her struggles and doesn’t rush to offer advice or solutions. he simply listens and allows her to feel everything she needs to feel, never making her feel like she’s burdening him. his genuine care for her emotional well-being gradually helps y/n rediscover parts of herself that she thought were lost forever—her ability to trust, to be vulnerable, and to believe that she deserves to be happy.

as the year progresses, y/n begins to recognize how much jeno has become a cornerstone in her recovery. she’s not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, she’s started relying on him more than she realizes. his presence no longer feels like just the comforting familiarity of an old friend—it feels like something more, something that she hadn’t allowed herself to entertain before. every time they spend time together, she begins to notice the little things about him: the way his eyes light up when he smiles, the way his laugh makes her heart flutter, and how much she values the quiet moments of connection they share.

this growing bond between them doesn’t go unnoticed by y/n, and it begins to make her question everything. could she ever open up to him in the way she once did with jaemin? could she ever allow herself to love him as deeply as she thought she loved jaemin? the questions plague her, but y/n can’t ignore the growing warmth in her chest whenever jeno is near. there’s something so comforting and steady about him that she can’t help but wonder if he’s exactly what she’s been looking for all along.

but there’s still a lingering uncertainty in y/n’s heart. she’s been burned before, and she’s not sure if she’s ready to open herself up to the possibility of falling for someone again, especially someone as important to her as jeno. she knows that she can’t rush her feelings—she can’t rush the healing process. but with every passing day, y/n’s emotional walls begin to crumble just a little bit more, and jeno’s quiet, steady presence is there to catch her when they do.

the distance between y/n and jaemin seems insurmountable. y/n has grown closer to jeno, and jaemin, despite his attempts to mask his feelings, can’t help but feel the growing resentment and jealousy. it’s not just the friendship between y/n and jeno that bothers him—it’s the constant reminder that jeno was there for her when he failed her, when he walked away from their relationship, when he let her down. jaemin’s insecurities and guilt fuel his jealousy, and every time he sees jeno smile at y/n or hear them laughing together, it feels like a dagger to his heart.

jaemin tries to convince himself that he’s fine, that he’s moved on, but the truth is that he hasn’t. his feelings for y/n have never truly gone away. every time he sees them together—at practice, social gatherings, or simply hanging out between classes—the tight knot of jealousy twists in his chest. the more he watches them, the more broken he feels, realizing that he’s lost y/n, and there’s no easy way to get her back. this pain soon turns into frustration and confusion. he wants to reclaim what they had, but he doesn’t know how to fix what’s already been shattered.

unable to handle the weight of his jealousy and guilt, jaemin begins to lash out in small, passive-aggressive ways. he makes snide comments to jeno when they cross paths, mocking his success on the field or teasing him about how close he’s become to y/n. when y/n is around, jaemin often says things that are dismissive or loaded with frustration, hoping to provoke a reaction, hoping to get under their skin. it’s his way of coping with the feelings he can’t articulate or face head-on. but his actions do nothing but create more distance between him and y/n, and deepen his own bitterness.

despite his increasingly erratic behavior, jaemin can’t stop himself. he watches jeno rise in prominence—on the field and off—and it only exacerbates his feelings of failure. jaemin knows that jeno is everything he isn’t: calm, steady, patient. jeno has been there for y/n in ways jaemin never could, and as much as he hates to admit it, jaemin feels like he’s losing her for good. the desperation to get her back grows stronger, but every attempt he makes only pushes her further away.

the tension comes to a head during an intense practice session. the boys’ team is gearing up for an important game, and the pressure is high. jaemin, already struggling with his internal conflict, becomes increasingly reckless. his focus is shattered, and his performance suffers. when a particularly intense play goes wrong because of jaemin’s lack of focus, the frustration from both his teammates and the coaching staff mounts. jaemin can feel the eyes of his teammates on him, disappointed and frustrated. the weight of his failures—on the field and in his personal life—bursts out of him in an explosive meltdown. he lashes out, not only at his teammates but also at jeno, blaming him for everything. in a moment of complete emotional breakdown, jaemin storms off the field, leaving both teams in stunned silence.

the eruption of his emotions doesn’t go unnoticed, and it becomes a moment of reckoning for both jaemin and everyone around him. he has pushed his anger and guilt so far into the back of his mind that it finally comes spilling out in a public, uncontrollable outburst. his colleagues are shocked, unsure of how to handle the situation, but jaemin doesn’t care. all he can think about is the turmoil inside him—the guilt over losing y/n, his jealousy over jeno’s growing presence in her life, and the crushing weight of his own self-doubt.

y/n, having witnessed jaemin’s meltdown from a distance, knows that this moment can’t be ignored. she can no longer avoid the confrontation that’s been looming over her for months. the unresolved tension between her and jaemin is suffocating, and she knows that she can’t continue to keep her emotions bottled up. she finally decides to confront him, to demand the answers that she’s been too afraid to ask.

when they meet in private later, it’s raw and painful. jaemin, despite the guilt written all over his face, can’t seem to form the right words. his apologies come out desperate, but they feel empty to y/n. he begs her to understand that he never meant to hurt her, that he never wanted to lose her, but the weight of his actions hangs heavily between them. y/n, her heart breaking all over again, finally lets out everything she’s been holding inside. she tells him how deeply he hurt her, how his betrayal shattered her trust, and how he emotionally abandoned her when she needed him most. she admits that she will never be able to forgive him for what he did, that the damage is irreparable.

y/n, broken yet resolute, finally says the words that have been lingering in the air for months: “we’re over, jaemin. for good.” the finality in her voice cuts through the thick silence between them, and jaemin knows that this time, there’s no going back.

in that moment, y/n feels a sense of closure, but it’s not a peaceful kind of closure. it’s the painful kind that only comes after everything has been laid bare, after every raw emotion has been exposed. jaemin has lost her, and she has lost him. the weight of it all is crushing, but y/n knows she’s made the right decision. she can’t keep living in the shadow of his mistakes, and she deserves to find peace, even if it means leaving jaemin behind.

jaemin watches her leave, the sting of her words echoing in his chest. he stands there, alone and defeated, knowing that the person he loved is finally gone from his life. he has no one to blame but himself.

after jaemin’s emotional breakdown at practice, the tension between him and jeno reaches a boiling point. the air is thick with unspoken words as jaemin’s jealousy and guilt continue to simmer. jeno, ever the composed and patient one, has remained calm throughout the ordeal, but this time, something snaps within him. he can no longer stand by and watch jaemin tear himself apart and take everyone down with him.

it happens after practice, as the boys’ team is cooling down. jaemin is pacing restlessly, his mind clouded with anger and frustration. he can’t shake the image of y/n and jeno—how close they’ve become, how much jeno has been there for her when jaemin couldn’t be. the jealousy is gnawing at him again, twisting every thought in his head. he feels as though the walls are closing in around him, and he can’t breathe.

jeno, having just finished a set of drills, walks toward him, his usual calm demeanor masking the concern brewing inside him. he’s been trying to get through to jaemin for weeks, but the guy seems impossible to reach.

"jaemin," jeno calls out, his voice steady but firm, “you need to stop. you’re not just hurting yourself—you're hurting everyone around you.”

jaemin stops pacing and looks up at jeno, his eyes wild with emotion. the words come out in a venomous hiss. “what do you know about what i’m going through, huh? you think you’re some perfect hero, standing there with your fake sympathy, acting like you care about me? or y/n?”

jeno’s patience wears thin, and he takes a step closer. “this isn’t about us, jaemin. you’re spiraling. we’re trying to help you, but you’re pushing everyone away.”

jaemin’s hands clench into fists, his breathing ragged. “help me? you don’t even understand. you think you can just step in and take over like you’ve always been the better guy? you think you’re the one who deserves y/n?”

the words hit harder than jeno expects, and for a moment, he’s taken aback. he doesn’t know if jaemin is just lashing out in his pain or if there’s something deeper at play, but the mention of y/n makes his blood boil. he can’t hold back anymore.

without thinking, jeno steps forward and shoves jaemin’s shoulder hard, a physical push meant to get him to back off. "enough. you’re not thinking clearly.”

but jaemin’s temper flares up instantly. his eyes darken with rage, and before jeno can react, jaemin swings a fist at him, hitting his chest with a force that knocks jeno back a step.

"don’t touch me!" jaemin yells, his voice cracking with a mix of anger and frustration. "you have no idea what it’s like to lose everything!"

jeno’s mind is spinning, his heart racing, but he’s not going to back down now. he shoves jaemin back, this time harder, and they stand face to face, only inches apart, both breathing heavily. "and you’re about to lose everyone, jaemin, if you don’t get your act together. y/n deserves better than this. you’re not helping her or yourself by destroying everything."

jaemin’s face contorts with pain, and for a split second, it almost looks like he’s going to break down. but instead, his eyes harden, and he takes a step forward, his fists raised again.

"stay the hell away from her, jeno!" jaemin spits out, his voice laced with venom.

but jeno, now pushing back his own frustration and anger, grabs jaemin by the wrist, forcing him to face the reality of the situation. "i’m not going to let you drag her into your mess any longer. you want to fix things? stop running from it. stop blaming everyone else."

the two stand there, the tension crackling in the air, neither of them moving. for a moment, everything is still. jeno’s grip on jaemin’s wrist tightens, not in anger, but to ground the situation, to get jaemin to listen. jaemin’s chest heaves with ragged breaths, his emotions spilling over in every movement. but after a few moments, jaemin’s eyes flicker with a mix of shame and frustration. he pulls away, stumbling back, his voice barely a whisper, but still full of bitterness.

"get out of my face, jeno. i don’t need your help. i never did."

jeno doesn’t move, his eyes softening, though the hurt is still there. "i’m not leaving you, jaemin. i can’t just stand by and watch you destroy yourself."

jaemin scoffs, shaking his head. "then maybe you should have stayed out of it from the start."

with that, jaemin turns and walks away, leaving jeno standing there in silence, the weight of their confrontation hanging in the air like an unspoken truth.

jeno’s heart aches, but he knows there’s nothing more he can do for jaemin—not until jaemin is ready to face the truth himself.

as the fallout from jaemin’s betrayal continues to cast a long shadow over y/n’s heart, jeno quietly becomes her anchor. he’s always been there, but now, his presence feels different. there are moments when she realizes how much she’s come to rely on him—how steady and constant he’s been when everything else in her life has been in turmoil. the emotional bond between them grows stronger as y/n opens up to him in ways she hasn’t been able to with anyone else.

jeno, for his part, has never wavered. he’s been patient, never pushing y/n, but always available when she needs him. he’s seen the pain in her eyes, felt the tremors of her heartache, and offered his quiet support from the sidelines. but lately, the way y/n looks at him has changed. the small, lingering glances, the way she leans on him when the weight of her day gets too much—it’s all starting to feel more intimate, more real. they both know it, even if neither of them is ready to say it aloud.

it’s after one particularly grueling practice that jeno finds the courage to take the next step. the team has just finished a session, and the night air is cool as y/n sits alone on the bleachers, exhausted but still lost in thought. jeno approaches her slowly, as if testing the waters, and sits down beside her. for a moment, neither of them speaks. the silence between them is comfortable, but there’s something different about it now—a quiet anticipation.

jeno clears his throat before speaking, his voice unusually soft. “y/n,” he starts, his gaze lingering on her but never meeting her eyes. “i need to tell you something.”

y/n looks up at him, confused. she’s never seen him so serious, so vulnerable. “what is it?”

jeno exhales deeply, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. the weight of his words is heavier than he expected. “i’ve always loved you. i just didn’t know how to say it.”

y/n’s breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest. she blinks, unsure of how to process his confession. she’s never seen jeno in this light before—he’s always been her rock, her friend, but now his words hang between them, so raw, so real.

she doesn’t know what to say. a thousand thoughts race through her mind, memories of jaemin’s betrayal, the pain of their relationship unraveling, the way she’d sworn never to let herself be vulnerable again. but in this moment, all of that seems distant, almost irrelevant. she looks at jeno and sees the quiet sincerity in his eyes—the way he’s always been there for her, never asking for anything in return.

jeno sees the hesitation in her eyes and his heart drops. he opens his mouth to say something more, but y/n beats him to it.

“i—jeno, i didn’t know.” her voice is barely above a whisper. “i did realize how much... how much you’ve always been there for me. but now... i don’t know what to say.”

jeno nods, understanding. he’s not expecting anything from her right away. he’s been patient for so long, and he knows y/n needs time. “you don’t have to say anything,” he replies quietly. “i just... i couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”

there’s a long pause as y/n processes his words, her emotions swirling in her chest. she can’t help but feel a shift in herself. as much as she’s tried to keep her heart guarded, jeno has slowly chipped away at those walls without her even realizing it. he’s always been there, offering support, offering love in the most unspoken ways. and now, with his confession, she can no longer ignore the feelings she’s developed for him—feelings she didn’t want to have, not after everything with jaemin.

finally, y/n turns to him, her eyes soft. “jeno, i... i think i might feel the same way,” she admits, her voice trembling with a mix of relief and fear. “i’ve been so afraid of getting hurt again, but you’ve been here for me, even when i didn’t deserve it.”

jeno smiles, the weight lifting from his shoulders. “you’ve always deserved it, y/n. you just didn’t know it yet.”

and for the first time in a long time, y/n feels like she’s finally where she’s meant to be.

as their relationship begins to shift into something more, y/n and jeno find themselves spending even more time together. their bond, once rooted in friendship, now flourishes in the space between quiet conversations and shared moments of understanding. every time y/n looks at jeno, she sees not just the friend she’s known for years, but someone who has truly been there for her when she needed him the most.

jeno, for his part, is patient and careful, never rushing things, but always present. he’s no longer just the quiet support he once was; he’s becoming the person y/n confides in the most. they find themselves talking for hours, even on days when there’s nothing urgent to say. jeno listens intently to y/n, offering words of encouragement when she doubts herself, his voice always steady and reassuring. when y/n has a bad day or feels the weight of the past dragging her down, jeno is the one she turns to, and he’s always there, without fail.

their time together starts to shift from the familiar rhythm of friendship to something more intimate. they grab coffee together before practice, their fingers brushing when they both reach for the cup. it’s innocent, a fleeting moment, but it makes both of them pause, just for a second, realizing how natural it feels. there’s an ease between them now, a shared history that makes their bond stronger than ever. the way jeno looks at her, his eyes filled with admiration, and the way she catches herself smiling when they share a joke—it all feels like the beginning of something new.

they spend more time outside of soccer too. jeno starts inviting y/n to small, low-key hangouts—movie nights, walks around the campus, even late-night ice cream runs when the weight of their studies gets too heavy to bear. these moments, simple as they are, become cherished memories for both of them. y/n finds herself looking forward to these quiet times with him, moments when the world slows down and it’s just the two of them, enjoying each other’s company without any pressure or expectations.

one evening, after a long week of practice and studying, jeno takes y/n to a small, tucked-away café on the edge of town. they sit outside, sipping hot chocolate under the soft glow of string lights, the air crisp and refreshing. they talk about everything and nothing—how their teams are doing, their plans for the future, and the small, silly things that make them laugh. jeno’s laughter is like a balm to y/n’s soul, and she finds herself laughing in a way she hasn’t in so long.

as the night stretches on, jeno becomes quieter, his eyes studying y/n as if he’s memorizing every detail of the moment. finally, he speaks, his voice soft but steady.

“you know, i’ve always loved spending time with you,” he says, his tone almost too gentle for the weight of his words. “but now, it feels different. in a good way, though.”

y/n meets his gaze, her heart fluttering slightly. she knows exactly what he means. there’s something undeniably deeper between them now—something unspoken but always present, lingering in the quiet moments they share.

“i feel the same way,” y/n admits, her voice barely above a whisper. she takes a deep breath before continuing, unsure of what comes next. “i didn’t realize how much i needed this, how much i needed you.”

jeno’s expression softens, a small, warm smile playing at the corners of his lips. “i’ll always be here for you, y/n. whatever you need.”

his words mean more to her than she could express. it’s not just about the reassurance; it’s the sincerity behind them, the unshakeable presence he’s given her since the very beginning. it’s comforting and grounding, the way she can rely on him without question.

as the weeks go by, y/n’s heart begins to heal in ways she didn’t think were possible. jeno’s love is different from anything she ever thought she needed, but it’s everything she’s come to crave. it’s steady and gentle, always patient, and never demanding. they share the quiet, tender moments that begin to stitch her heart back together—small gestures like a soft touch on the shoulder or the way jeno looks at her when she’s not paying attention.

their relationship deepens further with each passing day. there are no grand gestures, no rush, just a growing sense of security and warmth that builds between them. jeno’s hand finds its place in hers more often now, their fingers intertwining as they walk to and from class, the simple act a silent promise of what they’re becoming.

there’s a day during midterms when y/n is feeling particularly overwhelmed. jeno notices the way she’s rubbing her temples, the exhaustion written all over her face, and without a word, he takes her study materials and pulls her away from the books. he insists they take a break, dragging her out for a walk around the campus, forcing her to breathe and focus on something other than the weight of the semester. it’s in moments like this that y/n realizes just how much jeno cares for her—how much he’s always cared, even when she didn’t see it.

as the weeks turn into months, y/n’s feelings for jeno only grow stronger. it’s not just his patience or the way he supports her—it’s the way he makes her feel safe. he’s the person she’s finally allowed herself to trust again, the person she knows will never let her down.

one night, after a game, when the adrenaline has worn off and they’re sitting on the grass, watching the sunset together, y/n leans her head against jeno’s shoulder. the peace between them is tangible, and she knows, without a doubt, that this is where she’s meant to be.

for the first time since jaemin, y/n feels truly happy, and it’s with jeno, the person who’s been there all along, quietly, patiently waiting for the chance to make her his. it feels like a second chance—not just at love, but at life, at healing.

the final year of college has flown by, a blur of practices, games, and emotional highs and lows. y/n, jeno, and jaemin find themselves standing at the threshold of a new chapter, the world of professional soccer calling their names. the three of them have worked so hard to reach this point, each driven by their own dreams and aspirations, but now that graduation has arrived, it feels bittersweet. it’s not just the end of college; it’s the end of an era for all of them.

the atmosphere in the locker room is charged with excitement, nerves, and anticipation as the day of signing for their respective teams finally arrives. it’s a moment they’ve all dreamed of, and now it’s here. they’ve each worked tirelessly to get to this point, and their futures are about to change forever.

y/n holds her breath as she watches the team representatives enter, the thick envelopes containing offers for professional contracts in their hands. her heart beats faster when her name is called first. she’s been offered a spot with a prestigious women's team in the usa, a huge accomplishment and a dream come true. it’s a victory she’s worked years for, and as she holds the contract in her hands, she feels a rush of pride and excitement. but as she glances over at jeno and jaemin, she can’t ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. she knows something else is coming—the realization that their paths are diverging in ways that are beyond their control.

then, it’s jeno and jaemin’s turn. the room goes quiet as the tension rises. they’ve both been offered a spot on the same team—one of the top teams in korea. the news hits y/n like a wave. they’ll be playing for the same team, side by side, in korea, while she’s headed in the complete opposite direction. the irony doesn’t escape her. once, they were all three so intertwined in their lives, their friendships, and their dreams. now, their futures are pulling them apart.

jeno glances over at y/n, his expression unreadable. he’d always hoped they could find a way to make things work, but as reality sets in, a silent understanding passes between them. her future is in the usa, and his is in korea. there’s no way their relationship can survive such distance, especially with their professional commitments looming over them. the time they spent together—growing closer, learning from each other, falling in love—feels like it was just a moment in time. the possibility of continuing their love story seems impossible, as much as they want to.

jaemin, meanwhile, stands a little further away, his own feelings tangled in the mix. he’s proud of both y/n and jeno, but the reality of it all is suffocating. he’s tried so hard to fix things with y/n, but now, seeing how their futures are pulling them in different directions, it feels like everything has slipped through his fingers. he doesn’t know what’s next for him and y/n, but he can’t deny that the emotional baggage of their past might just be the thing that keeps them apart, even if he still wishes he could somehow undo it all.

after the signing ceremony, y/n, jeno, and jaemin find themselves alone in a quiet corner of the campus. it’s the last time they’ll all be together like this, the weight of it heavy in the air. jeno looks at y/n with a mixture of love and sadness in his eyes. he’s always been the steady one, the one who supported her through thick and thin. but as much as he wants to hold on to the hope of a future together, reality is crashing down around them.

“i’m proud of you,” he says softly, his voice thick with emotion. “you deserve this, y/n. you’ve worked so hard.”

y/n’s eyes well up with tears, and she smiles through the ache in her chest. “i’m proud of you, too, jeno. i always have been.”

but then, the silence falls between them. it’s the unspoken truth that neither of them can ignore—their love story was never meant to last with the paths they’re about to take. they both know it, but neither can say the words out loud, not just yet.

jaemin stands a little to the side, watching the two of them. he can see the pain in both of their eyes, the unspoken goodbye they’re each trying to avoid. as much as he wants to be angry, as much as he wants to hold on to the hope of fixing things with y/n, he knows that their futures are too different now. there’s no easy way to say goodbye, but in his heart, he knows it’s the only way forward.

finally, it’s y/n who breaks the silence. she turns to jeno, her voice trembling slightly. “i think…i think we both know this can’t work, jeno.”

jeno swallows hard, his gaze meeting hers. the love they’ve shared, the bond they’ve formed—it’s real, but the reality of their careers, their lives, their futures—it’s too big to ignore. he nods, his chest heavy with the weight of it all.

“i know,” he says quietly. “i love you, y/n. i always will, but i don’t want to hold you back. you have your future ahead of you, and i can’t be the reason you don’t go for it.”

y/n smiles softly, her heart breaking all over again. “i love you too, jeno. i always will, but this…this isn’t the time for us. i need to do this on my own.”

the night before y/n’s departure, the campus is quiet. graduation is over, the signing ceremony is done, and now it’s just the lingering goodbyes and the last few moments before they all part ways for good. y/n sits in her dorm room, packing the last of her belongings into a suitcase. her heart feels heavy, weighed down by the reality of everything that’s happened. jeno is going to korea, jaemin is staying in the city, and y/n, despite all her achievements, can’t shake the sense of emptiness that’s settled in her chest.

she’s been trying to stay strong, trying to be excited for the future ahead, but as the hours tick by, the truth becomes unavoidable. she’s about to leave behind everything that’s been familiar to her for so long—her friends, her teammates, the life she’s built here. but it’s not just the soccer; it’s jeno. the bond they shared, the way they supported each other through the darkest moments, the love that had started to grow between them—it feels like it’s being torn apart by the distance that looms ahead.

as she stares out of the window at the darkening sky, there’s a knock at her door. it’s soft at first, hesitant. but y/n knows exactly who it is before she even opens it.

when she swings the door open, jeno stands there, looking exhausted and conflicted. his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, his gaze fixed on the floor. he doesn’t say anything at first, but the sadness in his eyes speaks volumes.

y/n steps aside, letting him in, her heart aching at the sight of him. she’s tried so hard to push down her feelings, to convince herself that this is just the way things are. but seeing him like this, standing on the edge of everything, it shatters the walls she’s carefully built.

“jeno…” she whispers, unsure of what to say.

“i don’t want you to leave,” he finally admits, his voice raw, thick with emotion. he looks up at her then, his eyes brimming with tears. “i don’t want to lose you.”

y/n feels a lump form in her throat as she meets his gaze. she’s always known how much jeno cares for her, how much he’s supported her, but seeing him like this—vulnerable, honest—it breaks her heart in a way she wasn’t prepared for. she thought she was the one struggling, the one fighting to let go. but now, in this moment, she realizes that jeno is struggling just as much.

“i don’t want to leave either, jeno,” she says softly, her voice trembling. “i don’t know how to say goodbye to you. it feels like everything i’ve known is slipping away.”

jeno steps closer, his hands reaching for hers. he’s shaking slightly, the weight of their impending separation clearly taking its toll. “then don’t say goodbye. stay here. with me. we’ll figure it out, y/n. i can’t imagine a future without you.”

y/n pulls her hands away, her emotions swirling like a storm inside her. she wants to believe him, wants to believe that maybe—just maybe—they can make it work. but she knows the reality is far more complicated. she’s heading to the usa for her career, and he’s going to korea for his. no matter how much they love each other, the distance would be insurmountable.

“i can’t, jeno,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “we both have our futures ahead of us. and i don’t want to hold you back from yours. i don’t want you to look back and regret staying for me when you should have been chasing your dreams.”

jeno's eyes fill with pain as he steps even closer, the space between them disappearing. he reaches out, gently cupping her face, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“please don’t say that,” he whispers. “i don’t want to let you go. i don’t care about anything else but you. i just want to be with you.”

y/n closes her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. “jeno… i can’t stay. but i want you to know… i will always love you. you’ve been my rock through all of this, and i don’t think i’ll ever stop caring for you. but i have to go, and you have to go, too.”

for a long moment, they just stand there, the weight of their conversation hanging heavy in the air. finally, jeno speaks again, his voice soft, almost like a plea. “can i just hold you for a little while? just… let me hold you, y/n. i just need to be close to you.”

y/n nods silently, too emotionally drained to say anything more. she allows him to pull her into his arms, her head resting on his chest. the world outside seems to fade away, leaving only the sound of jeno’s heartbeat in the quiet room.

as they stand there, holding each other, y/n can feel the warmth of his embrace wrapping around her, the comfort of being with him one last time. she closes her eyes, allowing herself to forget everything—her pain, the distance, the uncertainty of the future. for a brief, perfect moment, there is only the two of them.

and in that moment, she feels herself slipping into sleep, her body relaxing against his. the last thing she feels before she drifts off is jeno gently pressing a kiss to the top of her head, his arms wrapped securely around her.

“i love you,” he whispers, the words a soft promise in the quiet darkness.

y/n’s breathing slows, and though she can’t respond in that moment, she knows she’s leaving a piece of her heart with him.

for now, it’s enough to be with him like this. to have one last moment of peace before the future takes them in different directions.

as she falls asleep in his arms, y/n knows that no matter what happens, she will always carry the love they shared—deep within her heart, a love that was pure, even if it was only meant for a chapter of her life.

taglist . . open @chenlezip @polarisjisung @mrkified @narcisstict @injvns

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grymm-gardens · 3 days ago

Text

Rook x Neve x Lucanis x Spite WIP

A few of you enjoyed my last little snippet, so here is a snippet from the same fic, this one is a rewrite of Lucanis's introduction scene, with a Mourn watch mage rook who will have FAR more interaction with spite than the game gave us

Nothing smutty in this snippet but it will absolutely get there believe me lmao

"We don't have to fight. We're just here for Lucanis Dellamorte," Rook weakly bargained with the Venatori as they wasted no time drawing their weapons toward her. She heaves a deep sigh, drawing her spellblade, "Every day I try to reason with the unreasonable, and for what? Get ready, Neve."

As the red glow of Venatori magic begins to warm her skin, she readies her blade. As she prepares to strike an unexpected presence causes her to stumble. A Demon. She had felt the reverberations of hundreds of demons in the halls but this one was closer - and different somehow. The thought is quickly pushed from her head as she narrowly dodges the end of a venatori staff, barely managing to fade step in time.

The Venatori mage thrusts the end of his staff to the ground and begins chanting, "Razikale, dragon of mystery, Lucasan, dragon of night, Hear your faithful call-" He's cut short by a crack in the frozen pillar behind him, a man with with glowing wings emerging from the ice.

The man grabs the mage by the waist turning him into his allys blade before tossing him to the side, and kicking the other man onto a nearby spire of rock. The other venatori watch in horror as he sprints past two of them, slitting their throats before they can even grasp what's happening. Moving gracefully past them as they fall, he grabs the final cultist and snaps their neck with a swift precision.

Each kill was unsettling calm, and calculated, while hauntingly beautiful at the same time. Surely this is the Demon of Vyrantium they were sent after. No one mentionned the name would be so literal, Rook thought to herself. She shudders feeling the sheer amount of demonic energy in the room. She cannot help but stand in awe of the wings before her - a beautiful manifestation of purple and black feathers dripping with energy from the fade. She can only imagine what they might feel like.

"I'm guessing he's the reason we're here." Rook says cheerfully.

Neve chuckles lightly before lowering her staff, "Yes, I'd say so"

Lucanis turns toward them, his eyes unwavering as he asesses the two women.

"Who are you? Who sent you?" As his wings fade, the demonic energy in the room remains. Ever curious about spirits and the fade, Rook couldn't be more intrigued. Meeting his gaze fully for the first time, she sees an surprisingly handsome face before her, with long dark hair beautifully framing his face and dark brooding eyes to match. He eyes her up and down, whether just to look or figure out the quickest way to kill her she isn't sure. Both, she hopes.

"I'm Rook, lovely to meet you," she says with a small wave, as if greeting a dinner guest. Sheathing her spellblade, she places her free hand softly upon her companions shoulder. "This is Neve." The detective laughs softly at the watcher, before giving her own half-hearted wave.

"Caterina sent us," Neve states.

"But... you aren't crows," Lucanis shifts his gaze back and forth between the two, bewildered by his sudden rescue, and the unusual saviors.

"And you're possessed by an actual demon." The Detective says with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. "It's complicated," He says with a nonchalance that has Rook further entralled with the him.

"That is fascinating. I have so many quest-" Neve quickly nudges her.

"Rook, maybe we play twenty questions with the demon after we break him out," She says, half-teasing, and half-serious as she observes the entryways.

"Right, Caterina promised us a mage-killer if we broke you out of here, are you... well?" Rook asks uncertain of exactly what the man before her is capable of. "

I can still work." The words almost sound venomous as they drip from his mouth.

"Good, because more venatori are on their way. We need to get moving." The Watcher readies her spellblade, and turns to begin plotting their escape.

"Wait. They have a vial of my blood that they can use to control me. I cannot leave it in their hands. And... I had a contract when i was captured. The target is here, Calivan. Crows don't break contracts," He says coldly.

"Oh, of course. The unbreakable crow contracts. It can never been simple, can it?" Rook sighs. The Crow looks into her eyes with such an intensity she can barely breathe.

"I'll owe you." For a moment he looks as though he is pleading with her, before steeling his gaze again.

"Okay. Where to first?" Rook says softly.

"The blood vial, then Calivan," As soon as the words leave his mouth he is already pushing past the two of them towards freedom. As Rook steps forward to follow, she feels a soft hand grab hers. She turns toward Neve with her furrowed brow, and ever supiscious glare.

"Are you sure about this? Do you think we can trust him?" Neve stumbles, almost sounding nervous. Rook is surprised by her hesitation, and places her other hand on the detective's forearm.

"I have no idea. But we can trust each other and I think that's all we need." She smiles reassuringly at her, before giving her hands a gentle squeeze.

"Always an optimist aren't you?" Neve teases, relaxing a bit.

"I'd probably be dead otherwise. Come on" Rook gently releases Neve's hand from her own as they make their way towards their new ally.

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dioslesbianwife · 3 days ago

Note

ur headcanons are BANGERSSSSSS as always!!!!

what about the jofoes with an artist partner who loves to draw them? :3c

THANK UUU, that means za warudo to me! (im sorry i had to). here are the headcannons and i hope you enjoy!

Dio

Absolutely adores being the subject of your art- after all, perfection should be immortalized.

"You're truly fortunate to have me as your muse," he remarks smugly, though there's genuine satisfaction in his voice.

He enjoys watching you work, lounging nearby with a book, occasionally glancing up to see the progress.

The first time you showed him a portrait of himself, his expression softened ever so slightly. "You’ve captured my magnificence perfectly."

He'd want to hang your work in prominent places in his house, not just as decoration but as a reminder to himself of how deeply you're captivated by him.

Kars

Finds your creative process fascinating, especially your ability to translate his form onto canvas or paper.

"Your mortal hands produce something so enduring," he muses, watching as you capture the sharp lines of his face.

He silently appreciates how meticulous you are in your craft, as precision is something he respects deeply.

If you ever painted something abstract inspired by him, he’d spend an unreasonable amount of time analyzing it, trying to find meaning.

He secretly treasures your work, though he’d probably not openly admit how much it moves and affects him.

Santana

Santana watches you work with silent curiosity, fascinated by how your hands translate his form onto paper.

"Why do you choose to do this?" he asks softly, not out of disdain but genuine wonder.

He remains completely still (to the point it almost looks like he’s turned to stone again), making it easy for you to capture his likeness.

When you show him the finished piece, he might give you a rare, soft smile. "It is... remarkable."

He keeps the artwork carefully, considering it a precious connection between your worlds.

Esidisi

Is patient when you ask him to sit for a portrait, though he’s prone to fidgeting and moving around.

"Is this how you want me to model? Should I look fiercer?" he teases, flexing his muscles dramatically.

Despite this, he’s genuinely touched that you find inspiration in him.

When he sees the finished piece, his eyes shine with warmth. "Ah, you've made me look even better than I imagined"

He'd proudly display your work, calling it a masterpiece whenever anyone asks. He sees you as nothing less than a professional when it comes to your art.

Wamuu

Wamuu sits perfectly still when you sketch or paint him, treating it like a show of a warrior’s discipline.

"Is this position acceptable?" he asks earnestly, willing to follow your every direction.

He admires your dedication, understanding the importance of honing one's craft.

When you reveal the final piece, he bows respectfully. "You honor me with your skill."

Wamuu keeps your artwork as a personal treasure, seeing it as a symbol of your bond. He’ll look at it whenever you’re not around as a reminder of your connection.

Kira

Kira is flattered but also nervous about being your subject. "You find... me worthy of your art?" he asks, a bit bewildered.

He watches you work with quiet fascination, appreciating your meticulous attention to detail.

"Your dedication reminds me of my own pursuits," he admits quietly.

He secretly cherishes the first portrait you made of him, keeping it hidden away where no one else can see it.

If you ever gifted him a sketch, he'd handle it with the same care as his beloved hand models. Speaking of, if you draw some hands for him, he’d treasure them forever.

Diavolo

Diavolo is suspicious at first- he wonders why you'd want to immortalize him in art.

"What do you see in me that's worth painting?" he asks, his voice low and guarded.

When he finally allows it, he watches you with an intensity that makes it hard to concentrate. Borderline glaring.

He’s quietly moved by the finished product, though he struggles to express his feelings. "You’ve captured more than I care to display."

He'd keep your work in a private space, away from anyone else's eyes. Your artworks of him are very private to him.

Doppio

Doppio is both thrilled and nervous when you ask to draw him. "Really? You want me to be your muse?"

He fidgets a lot while posing but does his best to stay still. "Am I doing okay?"

When you show him the finished piece, his eyes light up. "That's amazing, I didn’t think I could look so nice."

He keeps your sketches tucked away carefully, glancing at them whenever he needs a confidence boost.

"Boss will love this too," he mutters to himself proudly.

Enrico Pucci

Pucci is intrigued by your devotion to art and how you see him as worthy of being captured on canvas.

"God grants us gifts, and yours is remarkable," he says thoughtfully.

He sits still with a serene expression, making it easy for you to work.

When you present the final piece, he smiles faintly. "You have seen something within me that I scarcely recognize myself."

He considers your art sacred and would never let harm come to it.

Funny Valentine

Valentine is genuinely honored by your desire to paint or draw him. "It is a privilege to be your muse," he says sincerely.

He sits patiently, regal and composed, appreciating the care you take in your work.

"You have captured not only my likeness but my very spirit," he praises when he sees the finished piece.

He ensures your art is framed and displayed prominently, calling it a display of your talent.

"Your devotion to your craft is as admirable as your heart." (he might even have you do his presidential portrait if you want).

Diego Brando

Diego is immediately intrigued by the idea of being your subject. "Well, of course you'd want to paint me. I’m practically perfect."

He enjoys the attention, posing dramatically just to mess with you.

"Make sure you get my jawline right," he teases with a smirk.

When he sees the finished piece, his arrogance falters. "You really captured me."

He keeps your work proudly, seeing it as proof of your admiration for him.

Tooru

Tooru grins when you tell him you want to paint him. "Wow, I must be pretty special to you?"

He flirts half the time you're working, making it hard to concentrate. "You sure you don’t want me to take my shirt off? For artistic accuracy?"

While you’re painting he’s making you listen to music from his playlist. Hope you like Elvis.

"This is amazing," he says softly when he sees the final product. "No one’s ever done something like this for me before."

He keeps the painting or drawing safe, showing it off to anyone who'll listen.

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waitineedaname · 4 months ago

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im still reading mdzs and im already getting excited for svsss :DD my 2025 book would be svsss. thank u for introducing me this cool series 🥹

it makes me so happy to hear that omg!!!! the best thing that can come out of me obsessing over a new series is being able to get other people into it haha I hope you enjoy finishing mdzs and starting svsss!!

#asks #anonymous #i enjoyed the mdzs novels but i LOVED svsss #it's incredible when a series matches your freak so precisely. that's what svsss did to me #it's definitely not for everyone but it IS for me <3 #sickos novel for sickos #i hope you enjoy it!!!

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sonarspace · 2 months ago

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⋆⁺₊❅ ALL THEY WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU .ᐟ

꒰ synopsis. the holidays are all about giving—and these men don’t hold back.

featuring. nanami. choso. geto. sukuna. gojo. toji. (separate) content. mdni. v. nsfw. unprotected sėx. teasing. squırting. overstimulation. ōral (m & f). dirty talk. exhibitionism. slight dóm..

an. sorry for the slow updates... hope you enjoy this!

✶ NANAMI

kento nanami prided himself on his discipline. he was methodical, precise, a man who didn’t give in to impulse. but tonight, as you leaned against his desk, the hem of your dress riding up just enough to tease him with the curve of your thighs, every ounce of control he possessed teetered on the brink.

“you’re staring,” you teased, your tone playful but laced with challenge.

“can you blame me?” he replied, his voice low and steady, though his gaze darkened as he stepped closer. “you’ve been testing me all night.”

you tilted your head, feigning innocence, your lips curving into a slow smile. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

his jaw tightened, the faintest twitch betraying the restraint that was already unraveling. “oh, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

in two strides, he was in front of you, his large hands gripping your hips as he pressed you back against the desk. “you want to play games?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, his tone dropping into something dangerous. “let’s see how long you can keep that act up.”

his hands slid lower, gripping the curve of your ass and pulling you flush against him. the heat of his body, the hardness pressing into your core, had your breath hitching despite yourself.

“kento,” you whispered, his name slipping from your lips like a plea.

“don’t,” he growled, spinning you around and bending you over the desk in one smooth motion. “don’t start begging yet, sweetheart. we’re just getting started.”

his hands pushed your dress higher, bunching it around your waist as he drank in the sight of you, the thin lace of your panties barely hiding how soaked you were. “fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough, filled with something raw. “look at you. so wet and needy already.”

he hooked his fingers into your panties, dragging them down slowly, the cool air raising goosebumps on your skin. you whimpered, trying to shift, but his hands pressed firmly against your hips, holding you in place.

“stay still,” he ordered, his voice commanding but soft with control. “you don’t get to move until I’m finished with you.”

his hand slid between your thighs, his fingers finding your slick folds and spreading you open. he groaned softly, a deep, guttural sound that made your knees weak. “so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your clit in a slow, teasing circle.

you gasped, your body arching instinctively, but he pressed you down against the desk, his other hand firm on your lower back. “patience,” he muttered, though the strain in his voice made it clear he was talking to himself as much as to you.

when you turned your head to look at him, he leaned down, catching your lips in a messy, spit-slick kiss. his tongue slid against yours, hot and insistent, as his fingers slid inside you, curling just enough to make your breath hitch.

“you like that?” he murmured against your mouth, his voice low and rough. “you like how good i make you feel?”

you could only moan, your words catching in your throat as he worked you open, his fingers thrusting deep, unrelenting. his thumb pressed against your clit, drawing tighter circles as your body trembled.

“k-kento,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as the pleasure built to unbearable heights.

“not yet,” he growled, pulling his fingers out, leaving you gasping. “you’re not coming until i’m inside you.”

he freed himself from his slacks, his cock thick and heavy, the tip already slick as he pressed it against your entrance. “you ready for me?” he asked, his tone rough, though he didn’t wait for an answer before pushing inside.

the stretch was overwhelming, his girth filling you completely as you cried out, your nails clawing at the desk. “fuck,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he sank in to the hilt. “you feel so good.”

he gave you no time to adjust, his thrusts slow but deep, each one deliberate, leaving you breathless. the slick sound of your arousal filled the room, mingling with the soft creak of the desk and his ragged breaths.

“so fucking tight,” he muttered, his hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to whisper in your ear. “you’re perfect for me, you know that?”

you whimpered, your body trembling as he quickened his pace, his cock sliding in and out with a rhythm that had you spiraling. his free hand slid down, gripping your jaw and tilting your face toward him.

“open,” he commanded, and when you did, his tongue slid into your mouth, messy and possessive. when he pulled back, a thin string of spit connected you, and his smirk deepened. “so fucking pretty like this. all mine.”

his thrusts grew rougher, his pace unrelenting as your body tightened around him, your moans growing louder with every movement. “that’s it,” he groaned, his fingers sliding down to rub your clit. “come for me, sweetheart. let me feel it.”

his words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as your climax hit, your walls clenching around him as a cry tore from your lips. nanami followed moments later, his grip on your hips bruising as he buried himself deep, spilling into you with a low, guttural groan.

he stayed there for a moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder as his chest heaved, his hands still gripping your hips as if he couldn’t let go.

finally, he straightened, pulling you up to face him, his hands gentle on your hips as his thumbs brushed softly over your skin. his gaze, once intense, now held a warmth that melted through the air between you.

leaning in, he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, tender and unhurried. “you’re everything,” he murmured, his voice low and steady against your skin. “and i’ll never let you forget it.”

✶ CHOSO

the fire crackled softly, casting warm, flickering light across the dim room. you were nestled in choso’s lap, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist, holding you as if he was afraid you might disappear. the silence between you was comfortable, broken only by the soft purring of the flames and the occasional rustle of fabric as you shifted.

“you’ve been quiet,” you murmured, your fingers brushing over his cheek, tracing the delicate lines of his features.

“just... thinking,” he replied, his voice low, almost hesitant. his dark eyes met yours, searching for something you couldn’t quite name.

“about what?”

“you,” he admitted, his blush deepening as he averted his gaze.

your heart softened at the admission, and you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “what about me?”

his hands tightened slightly on your hips, grounding himself. “about how much i want to take care of you. to make you feel good.”

your cheeks flushed, and your breath hitched as you felt his fingers brush against your back, his touch hesitant, almost reverent. “you always take care of me,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“not like this,” he whispered, his gaze lifting to meet yours again, vulnerability shining in his eyes.

his hands slid down to your thighs, guiding you to straddle him fully. his grip was gentle but steady, his touch warm against your skin. you could feel him beneath you, hard and warm, his need evident, but he made no move to rush you.

“is this okay?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

you nodded, your hands cupping his face as you leaned in to kiss him, your lips soft against his. he responded eagerly, his hands tightening on your hips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a tentative exploration.

“let me,” he murmured against your lips, his hands moving to guide you as he shifted slightly, positioning himself.

you gasped softly as he entered you, the slow stretch making your breath hitch. his hands were steady on your hips, his gaze locked on yours as he watched every flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

“you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

you began to move, your hands braced on his shoulders as you rocked your hips against him. his breath hitched, his grip tightening as he struggled to hold himself together.

“you feel so good,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “so perfect for me.”

“choso,” you breathed, your voice soft, your fingers threading into his hair as you leaned into him.

his arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he buried his face in your neck, his lips brushing against your skin in soft, reverent kisses. his pace was unhurried, each thrust deliberate, his focus entirely on you.

“tell me what you need,” he whispered, his voice laced with desperation. “i’ll do anything. just tell me.”

“you’re already giving me everything,” you replied, your voice trembling as you pressed your forehead against his.

his movements grew more urgent, his breath coming faster as he felt you tighten around him, your soft moans spurring him on. “please,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly as he held you closer. “let go for me. i need to feel you.”

his words pushed you over the edge, your body trembling as pleasure crashed over you in waves. you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as his name spilled from your lips.

he followed seconds later, his groan low and guttural as he buried himself deep, his grip on you almost desperate. he held you there, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his hands brushing soothingly over your back.

“did i do okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze searching yours.

“you were perfect,” you assured him, pressing a kiss to his temple.

he smiled, his expression soft, filled with love as he held you close, the warmth of the fire wrapping around you both like a blanket.

✶ GETO

the christmas market was a sensory overload of laughter, twinkling lights, and the sugary scent of roasted treats. but none of it held your attention, not when suguru geto had been making subtle moves all evening—brushing his fingers over yours, leaning in a little too close to murmur something in your ear, letting his hand rest low on your back.

you were supposed to be admiring the twinkling lights strung across the market stalls, but all you could focus on was the heat simmering in your body, stoked by the glances he kept throwing your way.

“having fun?” he asked, his tone smooth, his lips quirking up in a knowing smile as he caught the way you were looking at him.

“fun enough,” you replied, feigning nonchalance, though your voice betrayed you, trembling slightly under the weight of his gaze.

“is that right?” he mused, his hand brushing against yours before gripping it firmly. without another word, he led you away from the bustling market, slipping into a quiet, snow-dusted alley.

the moment you were out of sight, his lips were on yours, hot and demanding, his body pressing you back against the rough brick wall. his hands were firm on your waist, pulling you flush against him as his mouth claimed yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp.

“you’ve been teasing me all night,” he muttered against your lips, his voice low, a dark edge coloring his tone. “touching me, looking at me like that. you think i wouldn’t notice?”

“i wasn’t—” you started, but the words died on your tongue as his hand slid up your thigh, pushing your dress higher.

“don’t lie to me,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with warning as his fingers found the damp fabric of your panties. “your body tells me everything i need to know.”

your breath hitched as his fingers pressed against you, slow and deliberate, stroking over the wet heat that had been building all evening.

“fuck,” he muttered, his smirk widening as he pushed the fabric aside, letting his fingers slide over your slick folds. “you’re soaked, aren’t you? you’ve been like this all night, haven’t you?”

“suguru,” you whimpered, your hips jerking against his hand as his fingers slipped inside, curling just right to make you gasp.

“say my name again,” he commanded, his tone rough as he thrust his fingers deeper, his thumb brushing over your clit with maddening precision.

“suguru,” you moaned, your voice breaking as your head tipped back against the wall.

he chuckled, the sound dark and satisfied as he pulled his fingers out, his other hand working quickly to free his cock. “can’t wait any longer,” he muttered, his voice strained as he lined himself up, his tip pressing against your entrance.

with one slow, powerful thrust, he filled you completely, the stretch making your breath catch as he groaned low in his throat.

“fuck,” he muttered, his hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you slightly, pinning you against the wall. “you feel too fucking good.”

his movements were rough, relentless, each thrust driving you harder against the wall, the friction of the bricks biting into your skin but only adding to the intensity.

“look at you,” he growled, his voice dripping with arrogance as his eyes locked onto yours. “you love this, don’t you? being fucked out in the open like this, where anyone could see.”

you couldn’t respond, your mind too fogged with pleasure as he drove into you, his pace unrelenting, his cock hitting all the right spots.

“say it,” he demanded, his grip tightening on your hips. “tell me how much you love being mine.”

“i love it,” you gasped, your voice trembling as you clung to him. “i love being yours, suguru.”

“that’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice low and full of satisfaction.

his thumb found your clit again, circling it with just enough pressure to push you closer to the edge. his teeth grazed your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “come for me. i want to feel you.”

you shattered around him, your body trembling as pleasure ripped through you, your walls clenching tight around him. his rhythm faltered, his groan deep and guttural as he buried himself deep, his release spilling into you in hot waves.

he stayed there for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath. when he finally pulled back, his smirk returned, wicked and self-assured.

“next year, let’s skip the market,” he murmured, his voice teasing but laced with promise. “i’d rather spend the night fucking you senseless instead.”

✶ SUKUNA

sukuna doesn’t do patience. not when it comes to you.

it’s christmas eve, and the palace is silent, save for the crackle of a roaring fire in the meeting room’s hearth. the long, cold table stretches out behind you, but you’re too busy backing sukuna into one of the wide, throne-like chairs at its head, a daring glint in your eye that he can’t seem to look away from.

you’ve been testing him all evening, teasing glances and little smiles, swaying your hips just enough to make his blood boil. and now, with the way his heavy cocks throb against his robes, his crimson eyes fixed on you as if you’re prey, it’s clear he’s at the end of his frayed restraint.

“you’ve been pushing me all fucking night,” he growls, his massive frame towering over you as you position yourself between his knees, tugging at the edges of his robes.

“what are you gonna do about it?” you taunt, feigning innocence as your fingers trail up his thighs. the heat of his skin seeps through the fabric, your touch deliberate and slow.

“oh, princess,” he sneers darkly, gripping your wrists with his clawed hands, yanking you to straddle his lap with a force that leaves you breathless. “you’ll regret asking that.”

with a flick of his wrist, the hem of your dress is bunched up around your waist. his eyes drink you in, dark and ravenous as his hands trace the curve of your thighs.

“do you even realize what you’ve done to me?” he mutters, his voice low, dangerous. “walking around like that all night, looking like something to unwrap.”

“maybe i did,” you whisper, the heat in your cheeks betrayed by the coy smirk on your lips.

his laugh is sharp, almost cruel, as he yanks the thin strip of fabric covering you to the side. “you have no idea what you’re asking for.”

the first cock presses against your slick folds, the stretch and fullness stealing the breath from your lungs as he buries himself to the hilt in one swift motion. you gasp, nails clawing at his broad shoulders as the sensation overwhelms you.

“fuck,” he groans, his head tipping back for a moment before his red eyes snap to yours. “always so tight. so perfect.”

his second cock, still throbbing and heavy, slides up against your slick, the ridged underside grinding against your sensitive clit with each rough thrust. the friction makes you tremble, and sukuna’s smirk widens, satisfaction radiating from every inch of him.

“you’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” he sneers, his voice thick with mockery as his hips move faster, his grip on your waist bruising. “already dripping, already wanting more.”

you’re about to snap back when you feel it—a wet, hot pressure against your clit. sukuna’s second mouth splits open just above where he’s buried inside you, and his tongue flicks out to lap at the swollen bundle of nerves.

“fuck, sukuna!” you cry out, your body jerking at the overwhelming sensation.

“look at you,” he growls, his breath hot against your ear. “falling apart already. and we’re just getting started.”

desperate for some control, your shaky hand reaches down, wrapping around his second cock. the thick shaft pulses under your grip, and sukuna groans loudly, his hips faltering for the briefest moment.

“you think you can keep up with me?” he rasps, his tone dripping with arrogance as his tongue flicks faster against your clit. “go ahead, princess. show me.”

you stroke him, your fingers tightening around the thick girth, and he grits his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he struggles to maintain his composure.

“you’re close, aren’t you?” he taunts, his voice low, vibrating through the tongue lapping mercilessly at you. “just let go. i want to feel it.”

the heat coils tighter in your core, unbearable and relentless, until the dam finally breaks. your body shudders violently, a gush of liquid soaking him as you come undone, your grip faltering completely. sukuna groans, his hand gripping your waist harder as he rides through your release, his tongue savoring every drop of your pleasure.

“fuck,” he snarls, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he watches the mess you’ve made. “you fucking drenched me.”

before you can catch your breath, his second mouth opens wider, latching onto your oversensitive clit, and you let out a choked sob as the sensation drags you to another peak. sukuna’s free hand tangles in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp.

“sukuna,” you plead, your voice breaking as he pushes you past every limit, the stretch of his cock and the relentless flick of his tongue too much.

“that’s it,” he growls, his voice rough as his thrusts grow desperate, chasing his own release. with a final, deep thrust, he shudders, spilling hot and thick inside you as his tongue flicks one last time, sending you spiraling into another wave of pleasure.

you collapse against him, trembling and breathless, his chest heaving beneath you as he runs a clawed hand through your hair.

“merry fucking christmas,” he mutters, his lips brushing against your ear. “you’ll be feeling me for days.”

✶ GOJO

satoru gojo hated christmas parties.

too much noise, too many fake smiles, and far too many people trying to steal your attention. he’d spent the entire evening watching from the sidelines, his jaw tight, his fingers itching to drag you away from every lingering gaze and polite laugh.

you were glowing tonight, wrapped in a soft white dress that clung to all the right places, your laughter like music that had him buzzing with frustration and desire.

by the time you excused yourself from the party’s main room, he couldn’t wait a second longer.

“where are we going?” you asked, breathless, as he tugged you down the quiet hallway, his grip firm but not rough.

“somewhere quiet,” he replied, his tone deceptively light as he pushed open a bathroom door and locked it behind you.

“satoru—”

he didn’t let you finish. his lips were on yours in an instant, the kiss hot and insistent, his hands gripping your waist as if he couldn’t bear another second without touching you.

you gasped against his mouth, your hands fisting in his shirt as his tongue slid against yours, coaxing you into a rhythm that had you melting.

“you’ve been driving me insane all night,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low, each word vibrating against your skin. “walking around in this dress, smiling at everyone like that. you really think I can just stand there and watch?”

“i wasn’t trying to—”

“doesn’t matter,” he interrupted, his hands sliding down to the hem of your dress, his fingers curling into the soft fabric. “you’re mine tonight.”

his lips moved to your neck, nipping at the delicate skin as he pushed the dress higher, his touch deliberate, unhurried, as if he wanted to savor every moment.

“you’re so fucking pretty,” he muttered, his breath warm against your neck as his hands slid up your thighs. “do you even know what you do to me?”

you whimpered, your body already responding to his touch, the heat pooling low in your belly as his fingers found the edge of your panties, tugging them down in one smooth motion.

“satoru,” you whispered, your voice trembling as he spread your legs, his blue eyes blazing with hunger.

he grinned, the look in his eyes nothing short of wicked as he kneeled before you, his broad hands gripping your thighs to pull you closer.

“can’t wait to taste you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as his lips trailed up your inner thigh.

he didn’t waste any more time, his tongue flicking against your clit with practiced ease, drawing a sharp gasp from you. his grip on your thighs tightened as he pressed his mouth against you, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that had you clutching the sink for support.

“fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your core as he worked you open, his tongue sliding inside you with a precision that left you trembling.

your fingers found his hair, tugging gently as his tongue flicked against your clit, the pressure building with every movement.

“satoru,” you gasped, your voice breaking as he sucked gently, sending a shockwave through your entire body.

“so sweet,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire as he pulled back for just a moment to look up at you. “keep making those pretty sounds for me.”

his tongue moved faster, his hands sliding up to grip your hips, holding you in place as he pushed you closer to the edge.

just as you teetered on the brink, a sharp knock at the door made you freeze.

“occupied,” satoru called smoothly, his voice light and teasing, though his eyes never left yours.

“fine,” came toji’s gruff voice from the other side. “guess I’ll find another.”

“relax,” satoru murmured, smirking as he leaned in to kiss your inner thigh. “he’s not coming back.”

his fingers slid between your folds, pressing against your clit as his tongue returned to work, the combination of sensations driving you over the edge.

“let go for me,” he murmured, his voice soft but commanding. “i want to feel you fall apart.”

you did, your body arching against him as your climax tore through you, your cry muffled against his shoulder as waves of pleasure rippled through you.

he didn’t stop, his tongue slowing to draw out every last aftershock until your legs were trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

finally, he pulled back, his smirk softening as he pressed a gentle kiss to your inner thigh.

“merry christmas, pretty girl,” he murmured, his blue eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and warmth as he stood, pulling you into his arms. “you’re the best present I’ve ever had.”

✶ TOJI

toji fushiguro was never one for holiday cheer, but he’d come to the damn christmas party anyway—because of you.

you’d looked unreal all night, that white dress hugging every curve, the soft glow of the fairy lights giving you an ethereal edge. toji couldn’t tear his eyes away.

you looked like an angel. the kind they put on top of christmas trees. but toji thought bitterly, grinding his teeth, i’d much rather have her on top of my di—.

he couldn’t shake the image, couldn’t focus on anything else but the way the dress swayed as you moved, the way your laugh made his pulse race. by the time the party reached its peak, he was practically pacing, his frustration coiling tight in his chest.

finally, he decided he needed a minute to himself. toji stalked down the hall, heading for the bathroom with every intention of relieving the problem he’d been dealing with all night.

his hand reached for the doorknob, but before he could turn it, a familiar voice rang out from the other side.

“occupied,” gojo sang, his tone smug as hell.

toji froze, his jaw tightening as a faint, breathy sound drifted through the door. his brow twitched.

great. even that loser is getting more action than me.

“fucking unreal,” he muttered, stalking off toward the stairs, his shoulders tense.

he made his way to the second floor, pushing open a random door to find an empty guest room. toji sank onto the edge of the bed with a low groan, his head tipping back against the wall as he tried—and failed—to push you out of his mind.

it didn’t help that the faint sounds of the party still filtered through the floorboards, or that every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was you.

he was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the door creak open until it was too late.

“toji?”

his head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of you standing in the doorway.

you stepped inside, your heels clicking softly against the wooden floor as you closed the door behind you. “thought you might be up here.”

“you followin’ me, angel?” his voice came out rougher than he intended, his gaze locked on the way your dress shifted with every step.

you shook your head, biting your lip. “you left so suddenly. i was… worried.”

toji’s lips twitched into a smirk, though the tension still coiled tight in his chest. “worried about me?”

when you nodded, stepping closer, his patience snapped. he reached out, gripping your wrist and tugging you between his knees.

“you really don’t know what you’re doing to me, do you?” he muttered, his other hand sliding up your thigh, the fabric of your dress bunching under his fingers.

“toji,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“don’t,” he cut you off, his other hand moving to your waist, pulling you closer. “don’t act like you don’t want this too.”

you didn’t deny it. instead, you let him pull you onto his lap, your hands finding his shoulders as he claimed your mouth in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, his frustration pouring out in every rough swipe of his lips.

“been thinking about you all fucking night,” he growled against your lips, his hands sliding under your dress to grip your bare hips. “lookin’ like a damn angel. how the hell am i supposed to keep my hands off you?”

“then don’t,” you murmured, your voice breathy as you shifted against him, feeling the hard press of his cock through his slacks.

his laugh was low, dangerous. “careful what you wish for, angel.”

toji flipped you onto the bed in one swift motion, your back meeting the soft sheets as he settled between your legs. his hands were rough but reverent, sliding up your thighs to push your dress higher, revealing the thin lace of your panties.

“fuck,” he muttered, his gaze darkening as he hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled them down, the fabric sliding over your skin before landing on the floor.

his lips followed the path of his hands, kissing up the inside of your thigh, his teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm.

“so pretty,” he murmured, his voice almost soft as he kissed the curve of your hip.

he unbuckled his belt with a practiced ease, his slacks sliding just enough for him to free his cock, already hard and thick, the head flushed as he stroked himself once.

“you ready for me, angel?” he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours, dark and unrelenting.

you nodded, your breath hitching as you shifted beneath him, your legs spreading wider.

“good girl,” he muttered, lining himself up with your entrance. with one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock stretching you until he was fully seated, the sound of your breathless gasp making his grip on your hips tighten.

“fuck,” he groaned, his voice low and rough as he pulled back, only to thrust into you again, the slick heat of you making him shudder. “feel so good, angel. you’re fucking perfect.”

each thrust was deep, deliberate, his pace unrelenting as he drove into you, the bed creaking beneath you. your nails dug into his shoulders, your head tipping back as the pleasure built, each movement hitting spots that left you trembling.

“look at you,” he muttered, his voice thick with awe. “falling apart for me. so damn beautiful.”

you couldn’t form words, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as he shifted, angling his hips to hit even deeper. the pressure built with each thrust, your body tightening around him as he brought you closer to the edge.

“toji,” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper, the sound enough to make his thrusts grow rougher, more desperate.

“that’s it,” he growled, his hand sliding up to tangle in your hair. “come for me, angel. i want to feel you.”

his words sent you spiraling, your body arching beneath him as your climax crashed over you, your walls clenching around him as your cries filled the room.

“fuck,” he groaned, his thrusts growing erratic as he buried himself deep inside you, spilling into you with a low, guttural sound.

toji stayed there, his breath warm against your neck as he caught his breath. pulling back slightly, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek.

“can’t get enough of you,” he murmured, his voice rough but tender.

he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling you close, his arms wrapping around you. “stay with me,” he muttered softly. “just a little longer.”

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hoshigray · 4 months ago

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫! | fushiguro tōji

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Not only are you drunk on a Friday night, but you’re a drunk, closeted succubus who is, unfortunately, under the care of the hot neighbor under your roof! Would you ruin the mood if he found out about your little secret? You don’t even wanna know!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab/fem! succubus reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! reader + Toji are neighbors - age difference; reader is in late-20s + Toji is mid/late 40s - crushing/mutual pining - drug/alcohol usage - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping) - Daddy kink - sqǔitïng - anal play (m! receiving) - 69 + backshots + spooning + cowgirl positions - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - creampies - praise kink - pet names (baby, doll, dollface, good girl, mama, princess, sweetie) - implied marathon sex - mention of drool/spit, tears, and cum - not proofread; will do l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.8k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: pulled this story out of my ass; I literally spent a whole single DAY dedicating to writing it. please enjoy, and tysm for 11.9k loveliesss ☆ love and appreciate u all !!

“…shit.”

There’s no way.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

Of all days for this to happen.

“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”

Tonight was already an eventful night, with the full moon shining brighter than the stars. Life has put you so fast in a whirlwind that you can’t recall the last time you permitted your body to unwind. Can you blame yourself, though? From moving to a new neighborhood and scoring a new job, things have kept you undeniably busy for the past few months. And not too mention, it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit and lacking a drive for social interaction.

That’s precisely why your old college besties – Shoko, Utahime, and Yuki – pulled you out of your hideyhole and encouraged you to join them this Friday night to have some fun! “C’mo~n, lighten up! No more thinking about work or whatever; have some fun!” “Yeah, y’know you’re my biggest drinking buddy. Now, hurry up and share this cocktail with me!” The ladies pressure you to relax and enjoy the start of the weekend with some good drinks and delicious food. And, you hate to admit, it worked like a charm – the longer the hours went, the more you felt free as if all the weight holding you down had been lifted.

The only problem is, like all good things, that it had to end and that you had to go home. Now check this out: 1) you left your car at home because, again, you were rigorously dragged out of your abode by your college companions. 2) You were all pretty much drunk, enough for neither one of you to drive on the road. And 3) you guys are in the city, and catching a lift is not only a gamble but SUPER expensive! Guess that’s what you get for choosing a Friday night to free-ball.

However, when hope was lost, and you wouldn’t be in the comfort of your bed tonight, you received a text on your phone, and you could practically hear the angels sing in the heavens above!

Recent Message from: Neighbor Fushiguro

Yo. You home? I’m out in the city picking up stuff for the house. Need anything?

Thank God for neighbors, am I right? The chances of someone you know being within the same vicinity of you may be low, but never zero! Did you feel bad that you texted back saying you needed a ride back to your house? Sure. Did you feel extra bad when you asked a huge favor for him to drop your friends off at the nearest hotel? …Yeah.

But luckily, he didn’t seem to mind. The only thing you had to endure was him teasing you about your little outing (with the help of your friends in the back of his truck) and your tipsy persona. “Never took you fr’ one who drinks.” He scoffs while putting you down on your couch after slinging you over his shoulder because you complained about your feet hurting. Damn heels! “Neither one who gets drunk.”

“It wasn’t my fauuu~lt,” you whine with a significant stretch while your neighbor roams around. “My fwiends, they forced me to–hic–to do it…”

“Mm, do your ‘fwiends’ always push you over to do things?” He shouts from the kitchen; you can hear cabinets opening and closing.

“When you’re the youngest of the group, they do.”

“Well, maybe I gotta get to know ‘em so they can push you into goin’ out more. And maybe you can quit avoidin’ me when I invite you over.”

“I don’t try to avoid you!” You sprout defensively. “And quit teasing me, Toji! You’re supposed’ta be on my side; I’m the victim here.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever ya say.” Heavy footsteps draw nearer to where you are, and your heavy eyelids open to see a hand stretching towards you with a glass of water. “I’m here takin’ care of ya now, aren’t I, lil’ victim?”

A smile pulls your lips as you take the glass. “Thank you,” you express before a sip, and your neighbor lifts your feet to sit on the cushion beside you.

“Y’re welcome,” he places your legs on his lap, grabbing the remote to turn on the television.

You haven’t been in this neighborhood long enough to say you have friends. Don’t get it wrong; everyone you contacted has been lovely and friendly, and some have opted to help with your move! But aside from the casual greetings in the morning or the nods of acknowledgment, you barely know people who scratch the surface of acquaintanceship. Not to mention, it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit.

…But, there is one neighbor you could say you’re pretty close with. Someone nice. Someone dependable…Someone attractive that you’re on a mission not to stare too much.

Toji Fushiguro lives two houses down from you across the street. Remember I mentioned you had people assist with your move? This widowed, middle-aged man was one of the nice handymen who aided you and your friends with your boxes and heavy furniture. You remember it like yesterday, seeing this brawny man stroll up your driveway on the sunniest day of June. You nearly mistook him for an Olympic athlete.

“So, y’re the one movin’ ‘round here?” The calm baritone of his voice was unforced. “Nice to know there’s a cute face on the newbie. Need any help?” It’s how he asked – so sultry and alluring you almost spaced out before nodding absentmindedly to his request for aid, hoping he didn’t notice you watch how the scar of his lip moved as he spoke. “Welcome to the neighb’rhood, kid.” Rarely do you have butterflies running amok in the pits of your guts, but they were challenging to deal with that day.

And it doesn’t get any better from that day forward. No matter how hard you wished not to run into this immediate crush of yours, he would somehow wheedle his way into your path. It started slow, exchanging hellos or good mornings whenever he left for work or you took the garbage out. Then came the “Want me to do y’r lawn fr’ ya?” or the “House down the street’s havin’ a little barbecue, wanna get to know people?” You thought moving away from the busy city life would die things down. However, Toji making your head race every chance he gets wasn’t a move you could envisage. Think about how you felt the day he asked for your number to keep in contact “fr’ emergencies…or if ya need anythin’, shoot me a call,” how your heart jumped to your throat! Oh, the girls never stopped teasing you when you told…

Nonetheless, you can’t deny how much help he’s been. Well, outside of that, just being a great neighbor all around. Besides being an absolute succor, he’s an outlet you can come to for anything. Whether for the house, the community, or just personal conversations, Toji’s someone you can admitlingly say you’d depend on. With trust built from day one, sharing pieces of yourselves to break down barriers, it’s safe to say that he is undoubtedly a friend who made your decision to move a worthy risk.

…Yet, what’s even more risky is being alone with him, something you do everything you can to avoid. Why? Look at him! Would you trust yourself to be anywhere with this man alone? Of course not! This is why tonight is the riskiest night you’ve ever bestowed upon your drunk self.

“You got somthin’ to say?”

“Huh?” You perk to reality, anxiousness filling you once you realize you had been staring at the man. “N-No, I’m sorry.”

He stifles a snort, grabbing your feet to massage them from the pain. “Oh, wanna act quiet. You were all bubbly in the passenger seat with y’re friends. Now y’re all shy because y’re stuck with me, huh?”

“T-That’s not true!” A lie; he was right on the mark. Your heart has been beating nonstop once he sat next to you. “It’s just that…I’m sorry for making you drive and pick me and the girls up.”

“Nah, don’t apologize,” his focus is on your feet as he kneads and rubs the sole of your foot. “Told ya I was around the area doing some shoppin’, so pickin’ ya up on my way back was easy.”

You take another sip of your water. “Shopping?”

“Mm, my kids are down here for the weekend, so I had to go out fr’ a bit and grab shit fr’ my daughter.” Ah, yes, Toji is a father; you remember him telling you about his two children in college, a junior and a sophomore. “They’re at the house right now; saw ‘em after I dropped stuff at the house before bringin’ ya home.”

You hum. “Sorry for stealin’ you from them for a bit.”

He shakes his head with a humorless laugh. “Please, they probably don’t even know I’m gone. They’re big kids. Plus,” your breath hitches when emerald eyes trail to you. “Now I get to finally have you all to myself, no curvin’ me and whatever this time.”

“I’m not tryin’ to curve…”

“Yeah, yeah.” He goes back to massaging your feet.

“…Thanks again, Toji. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, sweetheart.” Your abdomen flexes at the use of the nickname. “You know I always got you…Say, did you hit y’r head somewhere?”

You blink, eyebrows furrow. “No? Why?”

He points to his temple. “Because I see like a lump right here.”

You mirror his movements, your hand touching the spot he’s pointing. And your fingertips meet with a lump on a location that sparks too much familiarity. You gasp aloud and cover the lump with your hand, the other covering your other temple.

Oh, no.

Black eyebrows knit together. “You okay?”

Play it cool! “Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m fine! You’re right; I probably hit my head somewhere while out.” You take this time to remove your legs off the comfort of Toji’s lap and stand up from the couch. “I’ll put something on it to stop the swelling.” You can also sense something aching down your lower back at that moment. Oh, hell no!!

“Ya sure? Need me fr’ any—“

BZZZZ!! BZZZZ!!

Toji’s cut off from the vibration of his phone in his jeans, pulling the device out to see that someone called “Megumi” was calling. Good, a distraction!

“N–No, no, I’m good from here.” You say through gritted teeth, the alcohol taking effect and making your stance a little buzzy to uphold. “J-Just stay here, I’ll be back!” You don’t even wait for his approval, turning on your heel and heading out of the living room to the stairs. Your body feels wobbly with every step you take, but you don’t pay it any mind because you can feel the lumps beneath your palms increasing. “God, please, not now, not today…!”

You march as fast as you can to your bedroom, nearly stumbling on the floor as you haul ass to your bathroom door. You do a terrible job watching your footing fall after rushing to turn the lights on, and stuff from the counter falls because of the impact. But you didn’t care, shuffling up so you could look at the mirror. And the sight you see fills you with immediate dread.

Horns are the first thing you see from either side of your head; the tips curl as if to form a crown but point to the ceiling. Your eyes are no longer human-like, pupils shaped like slits as if morphing into a reptile. And your ears get horizontally pointier. “…shit.”

You then lift your skirt and tear a hole in your pantyhose above the hem of your panties, and your fear quadruples at the sight of something long and slithery protruding out of the hole. A long tail with a pointy end; you lose your mind. “Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

It’s then you realize why this is happening: you had forgotten to take your daily supplements that are meant to subjugate these features of yourself. You’ve been taking them for the longest time before you moved into this neighborhood, so you’re used to your typical human facade. Now, seeing these parts of yourselves is the very LAST thing you need right now!

And then something hits you, an unsettling feeling that you’re too scared to confirm. Your eyes travel down to your shirt, your hands hesitantly pulling the bottom tucked into your skirt and lifting to reveal your navel. You then tug the top of your skirt to expose a spot you’re honed in on the mirror. And the urge to scream grows tenfold once you see a black marking on the lower part of your belly.

A womb tattoo!?!?

“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”

“YO, HEY!” And just when it couldn’t get worse, you hear Toji coming up the stairs and beelining for your open bedroom door. Wait, no— “I heard screamin’ and a big ‘boom,’ you alright? Where are y—“

Your neighbor stops dead in his tracks once he appears in front of the bathroom opening; his concerned expression shifts to an immediate neutral deadpan. He stares at you, and you stare back at him, the silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. A ring fills your eardrums, dissociating from this entire scene and all its complications.

You want to cry. Maybe scream, throw up, or just straight up die on the spot.

Because this wasn’t the night for someone to find out you’re a succubus.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…”

“…So, what are you?”

Not even concealing your face in your pillow can hide you from the eventual questions of Toji, who sits idly on the corner of your bed. You cringe internally, never thinking this dilemma would befall you. The point of moving was to turn a new page in your life and leave the past behind with the city. Now, you are shriveling on top of your bed like a moody teenager, and your neighborhood crush is here to witness your depression.

“…What happened to your phone call?”

“It was my kid. I told him to lock the door since I’ll be out a little longer. Don’t try and deflect,” his blunt answer has you descend further to your inner turmoil. “How come I never seen these horns before?”

You sigh heavily; there’s no point in trying to divert now. “…I take supplements that hinder any features of my succubus appearance so I can look like an average human for the rest of the day.”

“Daily?” He sees you nod through his peripheral. “Succubus…the hell’s that?”

“Basically, I’m a demon that…that…” Yeah, no, let’s not finish that. “Never mind.”

“Bullshit. Tell me.”

“D-Don’t worry about it, it’s not—“

“Look here,” he speaks to you with a stern tone, a hand coming to your waist to shove you a bit. “I went ahead and picked y’re drunk butt up, made sure ya don’t puke up a storm, and now y’re here looking way different from before. The least you could do is explain.”

God, to be lectured by a human – totally humiliating…! “…I’m a demon that gets energy from…se–….sexu, uhh………..sexualactivitywithhumanbeings.”

The silence that trails after your ramble is beyond awkward.

“Oh.”

…

“Oh.”

God, just kill me right now!

The older man forces a cough. “So, you…have sex every day?” You can practically sense the tiny hint of discomfort from prompting that question.

“W-Well, I used to when I was younger. But I haven’t really…done it in a couple of years.” Jesus Christ, why is it so embarrassing to admit to someone other than yourself? This is the literal worst!

“Is that bad?”

“It’s, uhh…It can be?”

“So, why haven’t you done it?”

“Because…!” You snap your face out of your pillow and finally allow yourself to breathe correctly. “I just…I don’t have time like I used to anymore, and using my powers to make people forget afterward can get tiring. Also, the more times I do it, the more my drive gets intense from the last. The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”

“…Well,” Toji turns to face you. “Have you ever had the urge recently?”

“I-” Woah. That question came out of nowhere, almost answering it without proper consideration. “Wh–What do you mean by that…”

He shrugs. “Like—you know what I mean—like, even though you try to suppress it, do you still have those urges to do…ya know, it?”

Things get a little uncomfortable here; now you wish you kept your face in that pillow. Tojo’s gaze on you is distinguished — gentle yet stern, matching his demeanor. He's calm and calculating and is waiting for your response to his strangely personal question.

“I…I, I don’t know.” It was another lie.

“Why’re you lyin’?”

“I’m not…!” Toji clicked his teeth with a face.

“Fine, answer me this then. Have ya ever thought of doin’ it since ya moved here?”

Yup, this question was far worse than the other. His words echo inside your noggin, bewildered with every syllable relaying. And the widowed man lifts his brow from the lack of an instantaneous answer. You open your mouth, but words fail to aid you, your tail shying away behind your shadow. “I-I…I don’t—“

“Ever thought of me?”

“Toji!” You shout defensively. Sure, it might’ve been out of line to ask. However, it’s the fact that he’s breaking your exterior with every question — because of how on-the-mark he is. You could never prepare yourself for that inquiry, the heat on your face growing more unbearable. How could he know of the frenzy he puts you through just for existing?

“I’m not dumb.” You peep Toji, turning his torso and facing his entire front in your direction. “You think I don’t notice how often you try to push me off when I invite ya over or know when y’re lookin’ at me when you think I’m not aware’?” He dents the bed with his added weight, and you forget to breathe, watching him inch closer. “Or act all shy and cute when I got you to myself?”

You gulp, your brain short-circuiting at the feeling of Toji’s palm on your thigh. There have been countless nights where you’ve thought of your neighbor more than once, indulging in fantasies you could never speak of to a soul, especially Toji himself. To let the man know of the dirty things you’d want him to say to you, the names you wish him to call you, the erotic things you’d like him to do to you — death is the only option necessary not to let that happen. Unfortunately, he seems to have a good idea now that he’s cornered you like this, and you’re too stunned to utter a word.

“It’s okay, though,” he whispers low now that he’s close to your face, and you have to hold back on letting out a yelp when his hand comes to hold your face, his index finger toying with your sensitive earlobe. “‘Cuz I love it when y’re all timid, can’t even look me in the face…Like now.”

You try to avert away from him, but his thumb brings your chin back to him. “Toji, please,” his name feels forbidden to say all of a sudden.

“Tell me ‘no’.” His nose brushes the tip of yours, and you chew your lip. “I’ll stop right now and leave, let you deal with this y’reself…Or,” he ghosts to your ear, and you quiver. “I’ll stay with you and treat you to what y’ve been scared to ask fr’.”

“Toji, wait,” Fuck, you can’t remember the last time you had your ears so keen, his breath brushing it enough to compel you to meltdown.

“Say ‘no,’ princess.” You’re locked under his forest-green orbs, and you swear you could hear your heart hammering your chest. “Or I’ll treat you right tonight.”

Perplexed eyes can’t move anywhere else, and your lips are wet from licking them without knowing. Is this really happening…? An inquisition you had no time to answer for yourself once Toji closes the gap, centimeters nearer with every millisecond.

I…can’t…

His face draws near, and your eyes reflex to close.

I don’t…want to…

Toji pulls you in for a gentle kiss; your thoughts radio silent after the contact of his scarred lips on yours. No shot. Your neighbor was kissing you right now — there’s no way!? This had to be a dream…! This is truly a wild night: not only are you tipsy to the noggin, but your neighborhood crush has found out your secret, and now you’re kissing that exact crush in your room?? Your muscles go tense at what is occurring.

He peppers your lips with kisses, forced to catch up with him as he claims your lips, a palm snaking to the back of your head to keep you steady. He licks your bottom lip, chewing gently to prompt the softest gasps out of your mouth. “C’mon, baby,” he coos to your sensitive ears. “Relax wit’ me.” You nearly melt at the lick of your helix as his free hand courses from your chest to your waist. The brush of his fingers onto your tail makes you jolt.

“Toji, wait,” you mutter under your breath as he nibbles on your pointy ear, your hands gripping the back of his black wife beater. “D-Don’t; I’m so sensi—Nmmm…!” Jesus, the moan you held back! Toji trails his mouth to your chin down to your neck to suck on your skin. And your lower half throbs harder. “Ahhh…hahhh…”

He returns his lips to yours; this time, his tongue runs on your teeth vigorously to seek entry. You submit after a chew to your bottom lip, whimpering as the older man inserts his wet muscle to greet yours. Surreal, isn’t it, to be tongued down by your neighbor? You don’t know whether it’s the alcohol, the twitches between your inner thighs, or the flick of his tongue and the sound of his purrs that have your face getting hotter.

And fuuuuuuck, he’s such a good kisser — scratch that, he’s an AMAZING kisser! You’re practically turning into putty in the palm of his hands as he lips you, tilting his head to a proper position with a soft push to your face as he deepens the kiss. He sucks on your tongue, and you mewl, helplessly quivering when he teases the muscle with nibbles. Your waist has a mind of its own while it sways involuntarily, rocking as you sink into the zealous kiss. He’s not overpowering you in any way; if anything, he’s so overwhelmingly comforting, his hand caressing your cheek tenderly, and soft noises of lips smacking and breaking apart bounce one after the other.

Then, you shrill unexpectedly. “…!! Mmahhh! T-Tojiii, d-don’t—don’t touch…Haahhh…”

“Oh? Well, lookie here.” Your ears perk at Toji’s chuckle. Unbeknownst to you, distracted by the intense kiss, your neighbor sneaks his hand under your skirt and touches your private zone shielded by your pantyhose, fingers pressing up on your vulva area. “All we did is kiss, and ya already got your panties wet?”

Embarrassed? Of course, it’s been so long since you were touched like this and out of practice. Now, your repressed emotions start to crumble out of their straightened form the more Toji’s middle finger rubs on your panties. And let’s not even mention your thighs motioning to ride on the digit, your dignity starting to disintegrate. “Ohhh, Toji…”

“Mmm? What is it, sweetie?” He nuzzles to your neck after licking and sucking on your chin. “Feelin’ good down there?” He curls his middle and forefinger to push. “Got ya all excited?” He receives a confirmed hum. “Tell me how y’re feelin’.”

You gulped thickly, your breathing shaking. “I-I’m feeling—shit…” he laughs lowly at your swearing. “Nnnm! You’re making me feel…so hot.”

“I can tell, you’re twitchin’ like crazy right on my fingertips.” His fingers move into a circular motion, and your mouth goes agape. “Fuck, man…Hey, hold on, I wanna do somethin’.”

Toji removes his fingers from under your skirt before you can tell, the heat between your legs going tepid as he withdraws from your figure to lay his back on the bed. But before that, he unzips and loosens his jeans to his butt. A noticeable tent of his boxer briefs has your lips locked to each other, and your eyes widen when he subtracts the material. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more crazier, you are awake to witness the display of Toji’s erection in real-time.

How long has it been since you’ve seen a real-life, living, and breathing dick before your eyes? You honestly can’t recall that; the responsibilities of human life have made you grow numb to your demon necessities that it no longer feels innate. However, the sight of your crush’s solid, girthy, excited cock is marveling. How your mouth waters as you ogle at it is borderline humiliating, eyes glued to the uncut tip.

“Like what ya see?” He asks smugly, kicking his jeans and briefs off and slapping his thigh. “C’mere, mama.” Oh, fuck, the quirk of your insides was unavoidable at his comment, primarily as he guides you closer to him. “Let’s warm up.” You yelp as he effortlessly moves your legs to where you straddle him. He pushes your skirt up to your waist, and you can hear the tear from your pantyhose. His thumb comes to slide your panties to the side, and he whistles. “Damn, lookin’ all pretty and wet fr’ me.”

It’s either the fact that Toj’s dick is inches in front of your face or your bare pussy out in the air in front of him; either one of the two has your mind going in a whirlwind. And it all comes to a standstill the moment you sense something wet and firm glide across your labia, and it takes everything in you not to tremble. “Mmm, oh, fuck,” he groans after licking your cunt, throwing in another lazy one to have you holler. “It’s been so long…Shit.”Toji’s hands curl from your legs to cup your asscheeks, keeping your butt near him to lap his tongue around your chasm. You whine as he licks you down, your teeth clattering at the sensation.

Oh, my God, your head begins to ache. It feels so good, your body finally coming back to the groove of things as you move your butt around. The man under you quickly latches his mouth onto you, a firm grip on your ass to keep you in place for him to service you. Speaking of service, your eyes flick to the erect limb before you, your mouth salivating with the run of your tongue across your teeth. Fuck, it looks so good; you admire internally before inching your face close to the length, your head getting dizzier from the sheer size and musk. Damnit…I wanna taste him so bad…!!

“Go on, dollface,” Toji gives your butt a playful smack. “I know ya need this bad.”

God, he’s so right — you need this; there’s no point in denying anymore. You blow on it before placing a tender kiss, noticing how it pulsates as your hand wrings around the shaft. You lick your lips before pecking at the uncircumcised tip, and Toji’s hold on you goes tighter. He’s sensitive, you note. Adorable. You stick your tongue out to swirl around the cockhead, bathing it with your saliva before you inhale it with a delighted hum, gradually warming up your loosened jaw.

Fuck, the taste of a cock — something that felt nostalgic the moment he graced your tastebuds. Your eyes water a bit, trembles rocking your figure as Toji sucks on your wetness, and every inch you intake fuels the haze that fogs your brain. You stroke and suck him simultaneously, a forgotten method that rekindles now in this moment. You coat him with your spit the more you relax your jaw, slurping him unapologetically as if a different part of yourself takes over.

On the other hand, Toji feels the same way. It’s been way too long for the widowed man since the last time he has been intimate with someone, let alone have a bare ass right in front of him. It’s no secret that he’s had the hots for you once you moved here, but having you on top of him like this is like something out of his wet dreams. The way you murmur cutely as you suck his dick turns him on so bad, a guilty pleasure come true as he drinks your nectar off your damp naked folds. His tongue teases around the entrance of your vagina before pushing it in, fucking your opening with his wet muscle. You cry on his girth, your tail cringing in the air from the stimulation. He spots it and grabs it from the base; how your lower half jolts to the grasp is humorously darling to him. So cute.

The minutes go longer as you two keep pleasing each other, and a soft whimper escapes your lips when you release Toji from your lips, lips plastering long and sweet kisses on his shaft as you massage the tip. Your other hand palms and kneads his ballsack, the jerk of his thighs rewarding to see, so you increase the pace of your hand.

“—Thhh, nmm!” Toji curses from behind, sluggishly licking from clit to your slit while succumbing to your touch and mouth. “Shiiit, just like that, baby, suck me off like t—Mmngh! Christ, I’m gonna..fffuckin’ cum…”

But then, you remove yourself from Toji’s member, the cold air instantly blanketing him. Green eyes blink as you move off of his lying body, observing you bending over with your face to the cold sheets.

“Toji,” you plea to him desperately, hooded eyes shining eagerly. “Please, I need it…Here,” you spread your ass, fully exposing your slit wet from your fluids mixed with his saliva. Jesus, you were heathing as if you were in heat. “Do it here, I need it inside…!”

You had the man shook; the cogs in his mind stopped working briefly. The picture of you presenting yourself like this to him was unexpected, but goddamn, did it turn him on astronomically! Toji stands on his knees and advances to you, removing his tank top and discarding it to the floor. “Yeah? You want it that bad?” You nod impetuously. “Words, sweetie. Need you to tell me what to do.”

“Toji, pleeease…!” You wiggle your ass until he cusps it, kneading your flesh lovingly to the point that your tail curls around his forearm. “Please, put it in, I wanna feel it…!”

“Yeah, is that what my princess wants?” You and Toji bite your lips when he aligns his tip to your inner labia, teasing you with grinding motions. “Does my demon baby want Daddy to mess y’r insides that bad?”

Oh, we’re playing that card, too? Holy shit, you were getting so wet from this! “Yess, Daddy, pleasee! Mess me up with that dick, wanna be filled up right nooww…!”

He can’t hide the proud grin. “Good girl. Here,” Toji begins to push the cockhead to you, and your lips flatten at the wince of pain that accompanies the push. “Stay still, and lemme reward you,” his hips move slowly in your direction, you grip the sheets to prepare yourself, and your nerves are dialed to a plane of exhilaration you can’t regulate. Oh my God, is this happening? He’s gonna fuck me? So many thoughts cloud your mind, too excited and anxious for what’s to come because it’s been so. Damm. Long. How’s it gonna feel? Is your body ready enough? How does Toji feel about this; is he just as nervous as you a—

Your train of thought is brought to an abrupt halt at the sensation of Toji’s tip finally inserting itself into your vagina, too absentminded that your open mouth couldn’t say a word. Oh, fuck it’s in, it’s in! Your eyes widen, your muscles tense, and your voice struggles to cry. The older man continues to add himself leisurely, the length sundering your slit and stretching your opening as you take him inch by inch. Your back arches instinctively, wailing silently as you can feel the foreign limb intruding your tightness, quick quirks of your frame as he rubs your velvety texture. Ohhhh, my God…!!

When he slowly starts to rut into you, recurring waves of rapture hit your nerves every. Single. Time! You’re entire body is rocked to the core with every short yet gentle pound; the feeling of Toji’s veiny cock scrapping your channel has you shivering. And once he’s encouraged to push his entire member until the very hilt, you yelp aloud when the tip kisses your womb. “—Oooh??!”

“—Mmngh!” Your quick spasm surprises Toji. “Ohhh, shit, there it is. Hmm? Is this where ya want me, mama? Want me right…here?” He snaps his hips swiftly, the rushed movement and hit to your cervix knocks you winded. And another, you keep wringing his shaft acutely. “Ahhn, God fucking damn i—Iisshhffuck, fuck, I can’t, gonna…Hnghh!”

Toji’s body shudders above you, bucking into your warmth with a jittery pattern. The prolonged reaction of his orgasm claims him now, succumbing to the silky, tight texture and how well you’re grasping onto his girth. He comes inside you, moaning as he ejaculates earlier than expected. You sense it, humming to the immediate filling. So warm, so full of his cock already that your toes curl.

And Jesus Christ, it felt so. Fucking, Good! You were no longer drunk from the alcohol; now, you were intoxicated by the prowess and pleasure of Toji’s dick.

“Hah, haaaah, fuck,” he throws his head back with a hiss, his abdomen relaxing from the earlier flex. Then, your tail glides up from his abs, feeling up on his skin and roaming on his happy trail. He snickers at your feline-like comportment, “Heh, actin’ all cute now that you got what ya wanted, huh?” You say nothing, bashful to his words, while your tail curls up to his chin. “Don’t go quiet on me now, dollface; I heard you squeaking and moanin’ seconds ago.”

Toji then returns to rut into you despite recovering from his climax, furled to have you shrieking uncontrollably for him. The smacks of his pelvis recoil the flesh of your ass, his come stuffed inside you now glued to his erection as he rocks into you balls-deep. “Mmmm, yeah, that’s right, baby,” he grabs your tail and wraps it around his hand to pull; you scream louder, and your vaginal walls clamp tighter than ever. “Arch more fr’ me, enjoy me—nmm…!—fuckin’ you real good.”

The pull of your tail makes your senses hypersensitive, perturbed by the stress of it being pulled, yet the enjoyment you feel from it is too inexorable to comprehend. Coherent sentences double down to undecipherable babbles, “—Daahh, hoohhfuuc—D-Daddyyy, Daddyyy…!!” Tears well up in your eyes as he inflicts blows to your ass, the pain too quick to prepare for yet the sting enough to make you rigid. “—Too much, ish t’oo muuuch…!”

Another smack to your butt, and you howl once again. “Huh, ya say that, but y’re milkin’ my cock like crazy.” He bends down to remove your hands that try to hide your face and horns with the pillow. “What, ya don’t like this? Hmm? Want me to stop?”

“No, nooo!!” You shook your head immediately; your vision blurred for a few seconds. “I loveee iit, I love this, love Daddy’s diick—Ahaaa!! More…I want moreee!” Fuck, this is bad; any more than this, and you’ll be addicted for sure.

“Good,” he whispers to your ears. Good Lord, you weren’t going to survive. “Because I ain’t done wit’ ya yet, princess.”

Before you can register his sentence fully, Toji straightens and lays on his side behind you, lifting your leg to create a suitable angle. He then plunges into you harder and faster, the different positions helping the sporadic cadence achieve deeper penetration while scraping your upper wall with ease. At this point, your body is too hot and sticky to care about anything else outside this room; your head pounding and too misty, your senses corrupted by the constant pokes to your cervix and the increasing haze that you don’t feel human anymore. Your succubus roots flourish, drool escapes your lips, and wanting nothing but this feeling to remain ceaseless.

“Gahh, ohhhDaddyyy, ahhahh,” eyes roll to your skull at the brush of your sweet spots. “Shhoo good, I fweel shoo gooood…! Harder, hardeeerr!”

“—Khhck, goin’ as hard as I fuckin’ can!!” Toji kisses your cheek after a lick, chewing on it after hearing you mewl submissively. “Jesus, this pussy, out of this fuckin’—Nnngh…world.”

You turn to him and claim his lips, and he reciprocates into your steamy kiss. Vulgar tongues exchange spit and encroach on each other’s mouth, and you helplessly suck on Toji’s after he shoves it, your puffy lips intaking the attractive noises he makes. And you slither a hand down to your clitoris to swipe erratically while your tail goes around Toji’s waist and curves into the crevice of his ass. Suddenly, Toji stiffens at the pointy end of your tail, tickling his anus, and the raven-haired man gasps at the insertion. Too stunned to speak, he can only move his hips rapidly, his white-ringed shaft digging deep into you with the help of stimulating his prostate.

“—Taahhh, y-you, lil’ minx…!” He breaks the kiss and bites your lip to hear you whimper. “Tryin’ ta make me cum again?”

You nod, breathing heavily. “Ohhh, Daddy, I’m so close…! Gonna come!”

“Me too, mama, me too…”

Hot moans and groans fly out of each other’s mouths, bodies stuck to each other as you both chase for release. Everything feels so fast, so hot, happening all at once; all you can think about is the grinding presses you push up on your delicate clit. Fuck, fuck! It’s coming, it’s coming…!”

Then, it arrives. Your cunt, aching for the climax, receives the crescendo you’ve been aching for this entire time. The walls of your vulva contract around Toji’s member, milking and wringing him as you come loose to your grounding. A clear liquid exerts out of your urethra, showering out to stain your panties, torn pantyhose, and bedsheets, your breathing losing its steadiness and falling to a jagged tempo. The same goes for Toji, who falls into his peak along with you; your fluttering folds force him to submit and release his second load into you with a hiss. The older man’s heaving frame keeps bucking into you until every drop fills you to the brim, burrowing his face deep into your neck to rest as the shocks rock you both.

Finally, everything goes quiet. The cozy atmosphere pulls you out of your heightened elevation and lays you down with silent clarity. Both you and Toji, sweaty and sticky all over, are still linked to each other as the high dissipates. Shuddering figures begin to calm down and fall at ease with the tranquility.

Toji kisses your neck, and you croon until he comes to lay his lips on yours for a tender peck, then on your soft cheek and your temple. He then removes his flaccid bulge, white fluids oozing out of your hole. “Damn, that was good,” he mutters breathlessly. “Hmm, how ya feel—“

The onyx-haired man couldn’t finish his question because of the sudden change of positions you abruptly conducted. He now lays on his back with you straddling him; the calm tone switched to an unexpected spiking mood.

You then hand grab his dick and arrange it back to your raised hips. Viridian orbs widen. Wait. The tip meets your labia once more before you descend it down. What the f—hold on— And then, his cock is swallowed back inside your wetness, and Toji grits his teeth.

“Sh-Shit, sweetie,” Toji’s hands come to your waist. “What’s up, aren’t y—“

“Sorry, Toji,” the man surveys with confusion, watching you strip off and throw your shirt somewhere. Your naked chest is now out for him to see, and his breath hitches when you place your hands on his pectorals while a span of bat-like wings springs out from your back. “…That wasn’t enough.”

Wasn’t enough?? He repeats with furrowed brows, noticing the half-lidded, lustful expression and the sharp dents of your canines. Then, it hits him:

“The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”

…Oh, shit. “Wait, we can talk about—“ You get your answer once you bounce on his cock without notice, Toji nearly choking on his tongue. Nope, no room for prattling.

“You let out so much, made my mind go so crazy,” you grind your hips on his pelvis, squeezing his limp cock while it gets firmer and firmer. “Feel so good…More, I want moreee…”

“C-C’mon now, baby, can’t we take a break for a minute at least—“You bring your face an inch away from his.

“Daddy,” your neighbor shudders at the gentle kiss you place under his chin. “Please take care of me like you promised, ‘kay?”

Your gaze lured him in, a trap he was foolish enough to fall for. Because now, he’s stuck under your bow as you begin to inflict an inescapable rhythm, rebounding on his erection until the base meets your folds. Choked groans suppressed by Toji, but take his lips with yours, enforcing a loving yet salacious spell with your satisfied moans. Now, your crush realizes you weren’t the meek, adorable neighbor he dotes on.

Tonight, he was yours to play like a fiddle…And shame on him for getting way more turned on than he should be!

Wow. Guess I’m dyin’ tonight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

I should be fuckin’ dead right now.

Toji knew something was up when his eyelids opened, and his emerald eyes scanned the ceiling, instantly recognizing that he wasn’t in his master bedroom. The rays of sunshine are blocked from the curtains, yet the light of day crawls in and basks the room in a low glow. Chirps of birds outside greet him on the basking of a new autumn day, lying comfortably in the cold, silky sheets of the bed.

He wakes to a bit of a headache, mentally and physically groggy. Attempts to move are already tricky and aches all over his body keep him grounded in the mattress. Ugh, feel like I’ve lost all feelin’ in my legs; the man can’t even lift one leg without a grimace. And even his arms are challenging, one so oddly heavy as if it’s nailed down.

“Fuck, man.” His first words of the day are a curse, irritated by the drum of his head. He tries to lift himself; again, it’s not possible, agitating the man even more. And why the fuck is my arm so hea—

He doesn’t finish his sentence — the answer reveals itself once he turns his head to the left.

He sees you, surprised to view you in your natural form still. Horns have grown a little larger, yet still small enough for you to rest your cheek on his shoulder. You were sound asleep, faint snores picked up by his ears as he examined your face at ease with a peaceful slumber. Nude, the both of you, a hand wrapped around his left arm to stick close to you while the other is stationed at his chest, your bat wings shriveled together to not get damaged. And judging by the snake-ish feeling, your tail was curled around his bare thigh.

Strangely innocent to see after the events of last night flash into Toji’s recollection, funny to match such a lewd scenario to such a sweet face. He stifles a laugh, placing his right hand on the vulnerable one on him, his thumb caressing your knuckles as he grasps your fingers. Suddenly, some of the soreness he harbors feels light — glad I ain’t dead, I guess.

Your eyes jit behind your eyelids, a soft groan as you suddenly move and scrunch your face. Finally, your drowsy eyes sheepishly flicker open. Lidded gaze fighting the spell of sleep with every bat of your eyes.

“Mornin’, gorgeous.” Toji greets you.

“…”

In real-time, Toji watches your somnolent morph into a gradual display of mortification. He’s a little envious to see you spring up with no strain on your body, wings batting out of their relaxed state, and your hand still with his. “T-Toji??” You question directly, eyes surveying the nude neighbor in your bed, doing everything in your power to ignore the fact that you’re naked as well. Speaking of, you notice the subtle pink glow of your womb tattoo, and anxiety spikes to a high. “I–uhh–I’m so so sorry for last night! Sorry you had to bring me back home, and I didn’t mean to act weirdly on you with—Ooof?!”

“Relax,” he cuts you off by pulling you back to his lying frame, his left hand now free to snake on your shoulder. “Don’t talk so fast; my head’s poundin’ like crazy.”

You blink aimlessly, awkward now that you’re fully aware you’re in this man’s embrace. You can’t help recalling what transpired last night, suddenly feeling squeamish. “…You okay?”

“I feel like my life’s been drained by my dick,” he answers bluntly, adding more weight to your embarrassment. “Wakin’ up to a pretty face who nearly killed me with their pussy isn’t somethin’ I’d expect.”

“……sorry.”

“It’s alright,” calloused fingers glide and intertwine with his yours, stroking your thumb with his. “Had a good time either way. Wild, but good.”

“Really…?”

“Really.” You probably shouldn’t have peered up to see him look your direction. Albeit exhausted, his handsome face and sleepy grin ignite the heat on your cheeks. And your stomach flips, hearing a laugh when you meekly avert your gaze away. “How many times did we do it?”

“…Not sure,” long enough for my womb tattoo to be blatant.

“Me either. Does that happen often?”

“Sometimes? I guess it’s because I haven’t done it for a long time, so I went…off the rails because of the intensity.”

“Noted, because I never felt so old until now. I probably pulled somethin’.”

“….Sorry.”

“Y’re good,” Toji scoffs before moving to place a soft kiss on your forehead, and your heart skips the tighter his hand holds your hand. “Tell ya what, I can help you with that cycle of yours, probably…twice a month, so it doesn’t get too crazy like last night. And don’t use y’re powers or some shit to make me forget, either. I don’t wan’ that.”

You lift your face from his shoulder, the heat spreading to your ears. “You don’t have to do that, Toji, I wouldn’t—“

“Nah, I’m down; it’s what neighbors for. Besides, it finally gives me a reason to make ya interact with me more.” Again, his smug smirk causes knots in your stomach. “Like the sound of that, mama? Let Daddy take care of you?”

Your lips quiver, and you hide your face back onto his shoulder. The rumble of his laughter worsens the butterflies in your stomach, and your tail squeezes on his thigh. “Don’t say it like that, Toji!”

“Y’r tail seems to like it.”

“Stop it!”

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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unintentionalseductress · 26 days ago

Note

I saw this tiktok video a looong time ago with these two women firefighters who have toned bodies and it got me thinking of a scenario with the l&ds boys.

Imagine MC/Reader fighting some wanderes or working out at the Hunters training center and Tara or some civilian noticed just how well tone she is and decide to make a post or video about her. Now MC/Reader is know as the "Hot Hunter"

I would love to see the boys reaction to MC/Reader new found attention and all the horny comments she is getting.

Hot Hunter

Warnings: mild boner descriptions, some grinding and twerking, suggestive dialogue, mostly harmless A/n: Thank you so much for sending this in @deputy-videogamer! It was fun imagining the men's reactions to this scenario. Hope you enjoy this! Just an FYI this was combined with another similar request for Zayne getting hard at the gym for MC. Not really proofread.

You carefully set up your camera and peeked at the screen one last time before picking up a pair of weights off the rack. Although working out was mostly necessary because of your job, it was more bearable now that you had a buddy.

You glance over at Zayne, who's flexing his shoulders, having finished a set on the chin-up bar. He catches your eye, his lips forming a subtle smile before he grabs the bar and lifts himself up again. You allow yourself a brief moment of indulgence, admiring how the fabric scrunches over his broad shoulders before returning to your own workout.

You're live now and already have viewers coming in. Tara insisted that posting hunter workouts was a great way to get audience engagement since many people are focusing on their health nowadays. You demonstrated some basic exercises and how to position the weights, correcting your form as you did so.

Sweat forms on your forehead as you go through the motions, your toned muscles tightening under the skin as you curl and relax. After a few sets, you decide squats are in order. You replace the dumbells and instead, pick up a heavier kettlebell. Turning so that your audience could clearly see your form and how you were adjusting your feet, you bend, feeling your thigh muscles stretch, and your ass tensing as you went down before slowly coming back up. Suddenly there’s a surge in the audience, the numbers rising up and the phone starts to ping continuously as comments flood the live stream.

Wondering what could have happened, you’re about to get up but are spared as out of nowhere, Zayne suddenly snatches up your phone. His sharp eyes scan the screen, and there’s tension in the set of his mouth as he reads the comments.

“Zayne?” You ask from the floor, still squatting. He makes his way over to you.

“Is there a reason you’re recording your workout?” Zayne asks, his eyes still moving over the screen.

“Oh Tara suggested it. We get a lot of questions about our work out routine since we’re hunters. Why?”

“Well…it appears you may have gotten some…raunchy comments.”

“What? No way!” Your eyes widen. “What are they saying?”

Zayne’s eyes flick uncertainly to your face before he clears his throat. “Well. Most of them seem to have a fruit.”

“A fruit?”

“A peach, to be precise.” A snort of laughter forces its way from your body.

“Are you serious? There’s no way!” Zayne resignedly shows you the comments and indeed, every other one seemed to be the peach emoji.

“That hunter ass.” You’re amused as you read another one. “Hunter got the buns and the bakery. Look at that cake. Hunter workouts: the key to having a juicy peach.” The comments keep pouring in, and Zayne’s eyes darken as they get progressively thirstier. One in particular, coming from an anonymous commenter, said, “you can squat on my face miss hunter.” With a huff, Zayne ends the livestream.

“Hey!” You protest as he pockets the device. “It was starting to get good.”

“I see. So lewd compliments about your rear are ‘good’.” Zayne’s eyes have a glint in them, and sulking, you stand, all motivation for your workout disappearing like rain.

“I don’t see why those comments had to be so inappropriate.” Zayne bites out as he crosses his arms disprovingly.

“It’s the internet.” You grumble as you start to put the weights back on the rack. “Who’s polite on the internet?” You back up and bump into a sturdy wall of muscle. Before you can register what’s happening, Zayne’s deep voice growls in your ear.

“Have I not complimented you enough? Why are you looking for validation from strangers?” Caged between the rack and his body, you squirm, your ass inadvertently brushing against the junction of his thighs. Instantly, you feel him hardening, the warm, firmness of his cock pushing up invitingly against your bottom.

“Well Dr. Zayne, it looks like you were saving your best compliment for last,” you tease and innocently reach down to pick up a lighter weight, your bottom rubbing provocatively against his erection as you bend over and straighten. You stifle a giggle as Zayne spins you around, biting your lip and looking at him with mischievous eyes. Zayne's hands tighten on your hips.

“This ‘cake’ belongs exclusively to me. We’ve worked out enough. I need to raise my sugar levels."

Rafayel didn’t like working out. He made this very obvious as he grumbled during your daily jog. It’s been 10 minutes and his cheeks are red, locks of his hair out of place, and plastered to his forehead with sweat. His breath comes in pants as he tries to keep up with you.

“For being my bodyguard, you seem to always find new ways to kill me!” You look back over your shoulder and see him starting to slow down. Taking pity on him, you run in place and allow him to catch up. When he does, Rafayel moans and leans against a tree. “Are we done yet? This is torture!”

You check your phone and try not to laugh at his state. “This is hardly anything Raf. We still have 2 miles to go.”

“2 miles?!” Rafayel crosses his arms and shakes his head no. “I refuse to believe it. You’re just saying that to trick me into running more than what was promised!”

Rolling your eyes but still amused, you playfully poke his ribs. “I’m really not. C’mon it’s a beautiful day out! We’re getting all this fresh air and enjoying all the greenery-”

“Fresh and green is for bunnies! I’m exhausted. Just let me rest ok?” He drinks from his water bottle and you wait patiently for him, stretching as he does so. Two men who had been sprinting briskly around the path when you had started now slow down as they near. They glance appreciatively at you, grinning at Rafayel.

“You can run this round with us if you want. Let your friend rest.” One of them says sportingly, glancing at Rafayel’s disheveled state. Rafayel bristles at the implication.

“Hey! I was just catching my breath!”

“Of course you were!” The other man interjects quickly, trying to quell Rafayel’s ire. “You just looked like you could use the break. She looks like she has a lot of energy! Could run this whole trail before either of us make it to the halfway mark.”

Noticing the ominous shadow starting to grow on his face, you laugh, trying to dispel the tension. “Thanks. But I’m taking a break too. This was probably going to be my last mile.”

“Really?” The first man looks surprised. “With the way you were going, I thought you were going for at least 2 more. Are you a marathoner?”

You shake your head politely. “Hunter.”

“Oh! No wonder!” Both men smile dazzlingly. “Obviously hunters have to stay in good shape!”

“We do,” you say lightly, pretending to ignore Rafayel glowering behind you. “It’s a very physically demanding job.”

“Yeah,” Rafayel pipes up suddenly. “And she has very little time to herself. So we have to get going if it’s not too much trouble.”

Understanding the hint, the men nod at Rafayel. “Well enjoy your weekend then! Feel free to join us if you change your mind.” They run off and Rafayel glares at them.

“Feel free to join us,” he says in a mocking tone as he watches them sprint away. “We’re never coming back to this park again.”

“Oh Rafayel, they were just being friendly.” You start to power walk and Rafayel follows suit.

“No they weren’t! Didn’t you hear them? Let your friend rest. You look like you have a lot of energy! They were totally hitting on you!” You snort at his tone because he sounded so adorable right now.

“There’s nothing funny about strange men trying to hit on my girl. You’re already thinking of leaving me aren’t you?” Rafayel pouts, and you stop in your tracks before you fall over laughing. Cupping his sulky face between your hands, you quickly peck him on the lips, catching him off guard, because he’s blushing when you move away.

“I’d never leave you Raf. My breathless little fishball.”

“You can’t just insult me to my face and think it’s all ok!”

“Oh, so many people stitched my workout videos!” You’re lazing on Sylus’s lap as he works out the knots in your shoulders from your most recent sparring session. You wince as he squeezes a tender spot.

“Ouch.”

“Ouch? What happened to no pain no gain?” Sylus teases you.

“It doesn’t always have to hurt.” You absently open a random stitch notification and watch as a burly, muscled, man talks into the camera while holding a plank.

“Ok Miss Hunter! You said you can plank for 10 minutes no sweat! I’m gonna beat that record!” The man on the screen balances himself and the timer on the video starts. The sound of his heavy breathing fills the room and Sylus raises an eyebrow.

“Sweetie, you know you can tell me if you’re watching adult videos right?” You pinch his thigh, satisfied when he twitches.

“No need to get defensive.” His hands wander to your lower back and he continues to massage you. You watch the video intently. The man who had stitched your video was already starting to lose balance; his forearms were quivering from the effort. The timer continues counting, but right at the eight-minute mark the man groans and breaks position. He laughs and winks at the camera.

“Maybe you should give me a private lesson Miss Hunter!” he says jokingly before the video ends. The comments section is filled with comedic jabs at the man, saying he better last longer than that in other aspects.

“Pathetic,” Sylus murmurs and you startle, unaware that he had been looking at your phone.

“It’s hard to plank Sylus.” You say discipliningly. “It took me 6 whole months before I could hold for 10 minutes.”

Sylus doesn’t reply but his hands still as you open another stitch. A man giving off jock vibes fills the screen. “Ok! Miss Hunter said she could complete this whole circuit in 12 minutes! I’ve set up my workspace exactly the same way. If I beat her time, then I’ll ask her out to dinner! Wish me luck guys!” You watch in amusement as the guy starts his workout, puffing and grunting as he does so.

He was behind 2 phases when the timer rang and he stopped, flopping to the floor. “Whoo! This kicked my ass! Looks like I didn’t beat her time. But hey, maybe Miss Hunter will take pity on me and ask me out herself?”

Your notifications ping suddenly and you check them, surprised to see Sylus’s name popping up several times. “What are you doing?” You open one of your workout videos, then stifle a laugh as you see the replies Sylus has been giving to the commenters.

“You’re too fine to be working out alone.” Sylus: “Oh, don’t worry. She’s got me right there to spot her.”

“Are you a fitness trainer? Because you’ve got me wanting to follow your every move.”Sylus: “She’s not taking clients, but I’m sure a good mirror could help you with that ‘following her every move’ thing.”

“You’re perfect. The body, the confidence, the vibes—everything!”Sylus: “As her boyfriend, I agree!”

You’re way too beautiful to be single.”Sylus: “Good observation. She’s not.”

Exasperated but also entertained, you straddle Sylus’s lap, nuzzling into him like a cat. “Is the big, bad leader of Onychinus jealous of some strangers on the internet?”

“Not at all kitten. But I think it’s fair to warn them that my gains aren’t always necessarily in the gym.”

Tara holds her phone up as she captures you demonstrating how to effectively use a punching. You perform some basic karate moves, the slaps of your hands and feet kicking the bag filling the gym at the Hunter’s Association.

“Wow! These comments are so nice!” Tara encourages you as you wipe sweat from your brow.

“Are they?”

“Yeah! This one lady is saying you’re inspiring her to workout again! Another one says your arms look so sleek and toned! AND!” Tara practically squeals with delight. “This one guy is asking if you do personal training sessions!”

Tara giggles and winks at you. “Maybe you should quit your job and become a fitness instructor instead!” As she continues to film you, more comments flood the inbox, some questions, others compliments.

“This is the hot hunter I was telling you about! And he’s tagging his friend!” Tara can barely control her enthusiasm. You’re trending everywhere are #hothunter!”

“Who’s calling her a hot hunter?” Out of nowhere, Xavier steps in leaning over Tara’s shoulder to watch the screen. His eyes darken at the comments.

“Xavier!” Tara quickly puts the phone away, looking shocked. “I wasn’t expecting you to turn up.”

“Who’s calling her a hot hunter?” Xavier repeats. His tone is light but you can see the beginnings of a threatening spirit starting to take hold of him.

“No one! Just…some random person on the internet, it’s nothing serious! I mean, as her boyfriend, you have nothing to worry about!” Tara rambles, clearly sensing the ominous cloud hanging over Xavier’s head. Xavier reaches out to angle the phone and reads the influx of new comments. Tara glances over at you awkwardly, unable to break free from Xavier’s grip.

After a long moment, Xavier releases the phone and then walks over to the punching bag you’d been demonstrating on. More pings resonate from the phone as more comments come on the screen. “Don’t stop now,” Xavier prompts Tara who looks apprehensive. “Please. Tell me what they’re saying.”

You look at Xavier tentatively and reach out to hold his hand. “Xavier. It’s just people on the internet posting comments. Everyone hopes for engagement nowadays right?”

Xavier doesn’t reply and continues to fix Tara with a stern look. Swallowing, she reads a few comments. “Who’s the guy that just walked in? He’s hot.” She glances nervously at Xavier.

“Continue.”

“Is the new guy a hunter? Is he the hot hunter’s boyfriend? Is Mr. Hunter going to show us some workout moves too?”

“Hmm.” Xavier considers, then looks directly into the camera. “Greetings everyone. To answer your questions, yes, I’m a hunter too. I’m the hot hunter’s mission partner and boyfriend.” Your cheeks heat up and you push Xavier, trying to get him to cool off.

“I do have a move I’d like to show everyone watching.” Xavier continues to speak, unfazed by your subtle gestures for him to stop. He catches your hand and gently leads you away from the punching bag. He withdraws his hunter’s sword from its sheath, and it gleams under the lights as he does so.

“Hunters are trained to disarm threats as quickly as possible. Advanced weapons like my sword here are very effective.” Swiftly, Xavier raises his arm, and in one neat swipe, cleaves the punching bag into 2. Stuffing falls like cottony blood from the tear. Xavier brandishes his sword at the phone.

“That’s what happens when I try to protect my girlfriend. Pretty cool huh?” There’s a smile on Xavier’s face that’s charming, yet somehow menacing at the same time. For a brief second, the comments section goes silent. Then it starts bursting with fresh words.

“I want him as a boyfriend! So possessive I love it! Can Mr. Hunter possibly make more videos with the hot hunter?” You read them in your head and sigh.

“Well Xavier, you’ll probably be trending this week as #mrhunter.” You let out a startled gasp as Xavier firmly grips your upper arm and leads you away from the gym.

“Good. The fewer eyes on you the better.”

@brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @erebus-et-eigengrau @who-mentioned-rhys-larsen

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sunnami · 1 year ago

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❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.”

You blink.

“Get the fuck out of my room!”

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making.

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls.

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!”

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze. Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!”

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly.

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.”

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.”

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies.

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—”

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.”

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you.

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”)

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—”

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.”

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?”

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.”

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.”

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home.

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that.

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”)

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.”

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze.

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.”

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much.

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile.

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.”

“I know.” Harry grins.

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.”

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally.

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.”

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow.

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers.

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.”

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.”

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you.

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast.

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.)

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?”

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.”

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you.

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.”

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze.

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.”

“Oi!”

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.”

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.”

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary.

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.”

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”)

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.”

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.”

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!”

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?”

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically.

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name.

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now.

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?”

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.”

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right?

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.”

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily.

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.”

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.”

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable.

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced.

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear.

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.”

Harry’s eye twitches.

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.”

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly.

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.”

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?”

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.”

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.”

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.”

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading.

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands.

“In your dreams!” You shrill.

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.”

Harry nods. “Is it time already?”

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.”

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?”

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.”

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?”

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?”

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat.

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.”

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this.

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes.

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.”

“One date, then.”

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?”

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.”

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.”

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you.

“And I want to—”

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—”

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration.

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases.

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words.

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.”

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.”

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.)

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance.

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.”

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm.

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.”

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.”

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.”

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth.

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it.

He falls in love.)

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.”

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?”

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.”

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.”

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.”

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.”

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader

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