#like half in shock. can’t believe this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucksandpower · 2 months ago

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Paddock Princess

Formula 1 (literally half the grid) x Vettel!Reader

Summary: when the drivers find out that you’re planning to have a baby all by yourself, they offer to help out by playing sperm roulette … the results are surprisingly wholesome

The buzz of excitement fills the air as the paddock comes to life on a sunny morning. Drivers, team personnel, and media representatives mill about, but there’s a palpable sense of anticipation among a particular group of racers gathered near the Ferrari motorhome.

Max leans against the sleek red structure, his eyes darting around nervously. “Has anyone seen her yet?” He asks, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Not yet. But she should be here soon, right?”

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Lando chimes in, bouncing on his toes. “It’s like something out of a movie.”

Carlos nods in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. “A very strange movie, but I’m here for it.”

George glances at his watch, his brow furrowed. “She’s usually here by now. You don’t think she’s having second thoughts, do you?”

“No way,” Oscar says confidently. “You know her. Once she sets her mind to something, that’s it.”

Lewis, standing slightly apart from the younger drivers, offers a reassuring smile. “Oscar’s right. She’s one of the most determined people I know. If this is what she wants, she’ll see it through.”

Logan, the newest addition to the group, shifts nervously. “I still can’t believe you guys talked me into this. My mom would freak if she knew.”

Alex pats him on the shoulder. “Relax, mate. It’s all anonymous, remember? Besides, think of how happy she’ll be.”

Fernando, leaning against a nearby barrier, nods sagely. “Exactly. We’re doing this for her, because she deserves it.”

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, suddenly straightens up. “Heads up, guys. I think I see her coming.”

The group falls silent as you approach, your press pass swinging from your neck and a warm smile on your face. “Morning, boys,” you greet them cheerfully. “Why do you all look like you’re up to something?”

Max clears his throat, trying to sound casual. “Us? Never. Just, uh, enjoying the nice weather.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you’re all gathered here by pure coincidence?”

Charles steps forward, his charm on full display. “Can’t we just be happy to see our favorite reporter?”

You laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along. But seriously, what’s going on? You’re all acting weird.”

The drivers exchange glances, silently debating who should speak first. Finally, Lewis takes the lead.

“We heard about your decision,” he says gently. “About wanting to have a baby.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh. I didn’t realize ... I mean, I only told a couple of people.”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Word travels fast in the paddock. Especially when it’s about you.”

You look around at the group, a mix of emotions playing across your face. “Okay, so you know. But that doesn’t explain why you’re all acting like you’re planning a heist.”

Carlos steps forward, his expression earnest. “We want to help.”

You blink, confusion evident in your eyes. “Help? How?”

George takes a deep breath before plunging in. “We’ve all agreed to donate sperm. To give you options, you know?”

Your jaw drops, and for a moment, you’re speechless. “You ... what?”

Oscar jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “We know you said you were thinking about using a sperm bank, but we thought, well, why not use someone you actually know?”

“And trust,” Alex adds quickly.

You look around at the group, your expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something that might be amusement. “Let me get this straight. All of you,” you gesture at the assembled drivers, “want to donate sperm so I can have a baby?”

They nod in unison, and you can’t help but laugh. “This is ... I don’t even know what to say. It’s incredibly sweet, but also completely insane.”

Fernando steps forward, his expression serious. “We know it’s unconventional. But you’re important to all of us. We want to support you in any way we can.”

You shake your head, still trying to process the situation. “I appreciate that, truly. But guys, this is a huge decision. It’s not just about me having a baby. One of you would be a father.”

Max nods, his face set in determination. “We’ve thought about that. A lot, actually.”

“And we’re okay with it,” Lando adds. “Whatever level of involvement you want, we’ll respect that.”

You look at them, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait a minute. How exactly would this work? I can’t exactly pick one of you. That would be ...”

“Awkward,” Lance finishes for you. “We know. That’s why we came up with a plan.”

Logan, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “We’d all donate, and then the clinic would mix the samples together.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “So it would be like ... artificial insemination roulette?”

Carlos grins. “Exactly! That way, no one knows who the father is. It could be any of us.”

You shake your head, a disbelieving laugh escaping you. “This is absolutely crazy. You know that, right?”

Lewis steps closer, his expression gentle. “Maybe. But we all care about you. We want you to be happy, and we know how much you want this.”

You look around at the group, taking in their earnest expressions. “I don’t know what to say. This is ... a lot to process.”

George nods understandingly. “Of course it is. We don’t expect you to decide right now. Just ... think about it, okay?”

You nod slowly, still looking a bit dazed. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But guys, this is a huge thing you’re offering. Are you sure you’ve really thought it through?”

Alex speaks up, his voice calm and reassuring. “We have. We’ve talked about it a lot, actually. We know it’s not a decision to make lightly.”

“But we’re all in agreement,” Oscar adds. “If this is what you want, we want to help make it happen.”

You take a deep breath, looking around at the group. “I need some time to think about this. It’s ... a lot to take in.”

Max nods, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere.”

As you turn to walk away, still looking a bit shell-shocked, the drivers watch you go with a mix of hope and anxiety.

“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Lando asks, nervously fidgeting with his sleeve.

Charles shrugs, his eyes still following your retreating figure. “I don’t know. It’s a big decision.”

“We’ve done our part,” Fernando says sagely. “Now it’s up to her.”

The group falls into a contemplative silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the potential consequences of their offer.

Several days pass, and the paddock is abuzz with speculation. The drivers have managed to keep their offer under wraps, but your contemplative mood hasn’t gone unnoticed.

You find yourself cornered by the group once again, this time in a quiet corner of the paddock after qualifying.

“So,” Max says, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “Have you, uh, given any thought to our offer?”

You look around at the expectant faces surrounding you and take a deep breath. “I have, actually. I’ve thought about little else, to be honest.”

The tension in the air is palpable as they wait for your decision.

“I’m still not sure this is the right thing to do,” you begin, and you can see their faces fall. “But ... I can’t deny that the idea has a certain appeal.”

Hope blossoms in their expressions, and you can’t help but smile at their eagerness.

“Before I say yes,” you continue, holding up a hand to stave off their excitement, “I need to know that you’ve all really thought this through. This isn’t just about me having a baby. One of you will be a father, even if we don’t know which one.”

Lewis nods solemnly. “We understand. We’ve talked about it a lot, believe me.”

“And you’re all okay with the possibility of having a child out there that you might never know is yours?” You press.

They exchange glances before nodding in unison.

“We know it’s not a conventional situation,” Charles says. “But we’re all willing to accept whatever comes of this.”

You look at each of them in turn, searching their faces for any sign of doubt. Finding none, you take a deep breath.

“Okay,” you say finally. “If you’re all sure about this ... then yes. I’d be honored to accept your offer.”

The reaction is immediate and overwhelming. Cheers erupt from the group, and before you know it, you’re engulfed in a group hug.

“This is going to be amazing,” Lando exclaims, his face lit up with excitement.

“You’re going to be an incredible mother,” Alex adds, his smile warm and sincere.

As the excitement dies down, practical considerations start to surface.

“So, how do we do this?” Oscar asks. “Do we all just show up at the clinic or ...”

You can’t help but laugh at the mental image. “I think it might be best if we handle this discreetly. I’ll talk to the clinic and set everything up. They can give you instructions on how to make your ... contributions.”

George nods, looking relieved. “That sounds like a good plan. We don’t want this getting out to the media.”

“Agreed,” you say firmly. “This stays between us. No one else needs to know the details.”

The group nods in agreement, and you feel a wave of affection for these men who are willing to go to such lengths for you.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” you say, shaking your head in wonder.

Fernando smiles, his eyes twinkling. “Believe it. In a few months, you could be on your way to motherhood.”

The reality of the situation starts to sink in, and you feel a mix of excitement and nerves. “This is going to change everything, isn’t it?”

“Change can be good,” Carlos says, giving you a reassuring smile. “And you won’t be alone. We’ll all be here to support you.”

You look around at the group, feeling overwhelmed by their support and affection. “Thank you. All of you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this.”

Max grins, lightening the mood. “Well, naming the kid after me would be a good start.”

The group erupts in laughter, and you roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Nice try, Verstappen. But I think we’ll be steering clear of any names that might give away paternity.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the group. The magnitude of what you’ve all agreed to hangs in the air, but it’s accompanied by a sense of excitement and possibility.

“So,” Lance says, breaking the silence. “I guess the next step is to set up appointments at the clinic?”

You nod, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement in your stomach. “Yeah, I’ll get that sorted out and let you all know the details.”

“And then ...” Logan trails off, looking a bit overwhelmed.

“And then we wait,” Lewis finishes for him. “And hope for the best.”

You look around at the group of men surrounding you, each one ready to potentially become a father for your sake. It’s an unconventional situation, to say the least, but as you take in their supportive smiles and excited eyes, you can’t help but feel that you’re embarking on something truly special.

“Well, boys,” you say, a smile spreading across your face. “I guess we’re really doing this. Let Operation Make A Baby commence.”

***

The hospital waiting room crackles with nervous energy as eleven Formula 1 drivers pace, fidget, and attempt to distract themselves. The air is thick with anticipation, and every time the door opens, heads snap up in unison, hoping for news.

Max runs a hand through his hair for the hundredth time. “How long has it been now?” He asks, his voice tight with tension.

George checks his watch. “About six hours since we got here. But labor can take a while, especially for first-time mothers.”

“I still can’t believe this is really happening,” Lando says, his leg bouncing incessantly. “One of us is about to become a father.”

Charles nods, his eyes fixed on the door. “It’s surreal. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find out this was all a dream.”

“Not a dream, mate,” Alex says, patting Charles on the shoulder. “Very much real.”

The door swings open, and a nurse steps out. The drivers collectively hold their breath, but she merely smiles apologetically and heads down the hallway.

Carlos groans. “This waiting is killing me. How are we supposed to just sit here?��

“We could place bets on who the father is,” Logan suggests with a nervous laugh.

Lewis shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We agreed we wouldn’t try to figure it out, remember?”

“Lewis is right,” Fernando says sagely. “What matters is that the baby and the mother are healthy.”

Oscar nods in agreement. “Exactly. We’re all in this together, regardless of biology.”

Lance, who’s been quietly observing until now, speaks up. “Do you think she’s scared? I mean, we’re all nervous wrecks out here, and we’re not the ones giving birth.”

The group falls silent, contemplating Lance’s words. It’s a sobering thought, reminding them of the magnitude of what’s happening just beyond those doors.

“She’s strong,” Max says finally, his voice filled with admiration. “Stronger than all of us put together. She’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, the door swings open again, and this time, a doctor steps out. The drivers scramble to their feet, forming a semicircle around her.

“Gentlemen,” the doctor says, a smile playing at her lips. “I’m happy to inform you that both mother and baby are doing well. It’s a healthy baby girl.”

A collective cheer erupts from the group, followed by a flurry of hugs and backslaps. The tension that’s been building for hours finally breaks, replaced by jubilant relief.

“When can we see them?” Charles asks eagerly.

The doctor holds up a hand. “The mother is resting now, but she’s asked to see you all in about an hour. She wants you to meet the baby together.”

As the doctor leaves, the drivers look at each other, a mix of excitement and nerves on their faces.

“A girl,” Lando says, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “We have a daughter.”

“She has a daughter,” Lewis gently corrects. “We’re ... well, I’m not sure what we are exactly.”

“We’re family,” Fernando says firmly. “All of us and the little one.”

The next hour passes in a blur of excited chatter and speculation. Finally, a nurse appears to escort them to the private room where you and the baby are waiting.

As they file into the room, the sight that greets them renders them momentarily speechless. You’re propped up in the bed, looking tired but radiant, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket.

You look up as they enter, a soft smile on your face. “Hey, guys. Come meet your daughter.”

The drivers approach cautiously, as if afraid they might break the spell. You adjust the blanket, revealing a tiny face with rosebud lips and a button nose.

“She’s beautiful,” Max breathes, his eyes wide with wonder.

“She’s perfect,” Charles adds, his voice choked with emotion.

You beam at them, your eyes shining. “Want to hold her?”

After a moment of hesitation, Lewis steps forward. With practiced ease, he gently takes the baby from you, cradling her carefully in his arms.

“Hello, little one,” he coos softly. “Welcome to the world.”

The other drivers crowd around, each wanting a closer look. As Lewis passes the baby to Carlos, the scrutiny intensifies.

“Is it just me, or does she have Max’s nose?” Lando asks, peering closely at the tiny face.

Max leans in, his brow furrowed. “I don’t see it. But those ears ... they look like yours, Lando.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Boys, she’s about one hour old. I think it’s a bit early to be playing guess the father, don’t you?”

The drivers have the grace to look sheepish, but their curiosity is far from satisfied.

As the baby is passed from driver to driver, the observations continue.

“She has a strong grip,” Alex notes as tiny fingers wrap around his thumb. “Definitely going to be a racer.”

“Look at those long eyelashes,” Oscar marvels. “Those have to be from Charles.”

Charles preens a bit at this, while the others roll their eyes good-naturedly.

When it’s Fernando’s turn to hold the baby, he studies her with a thoughtful expression. “You know,” he says slowly, “I think she has your smile.”

You raise an eyebrow. “She hasn’t even smiled yet.”

He shakes his head, a mysterious smile on his face. “Trust me. I can tell.”

As the baby makes her way back to you, the drivers settle into chairs around the room, their eyes never leaving the tiny bundle.

“So,” George says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Have you thought about names?”

You nod, looking down at your daughter. “I have, actually. I was thinking ... Nessa. It means miracle. I thought it was fitting, given how she came into our lives.”

“Nessa,” Logan repeats, testing the name. “I like it. It’s beautiful.”

The others murmur their agreement, and you feel a wave of relief. Naming a baby is hard enough without having to consider the opinions of eleven potential fathers.

“Nessa it is, then,” you say, smiling down at the sleeping infant.

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “Can I ask ... how are you feeling? About all of this, I mean.”

You take a moment to consider the question. “Honestly? I’m overwhelmed. Excited, terrified, grateful ... all at once. But mostly, I’m just in awe. Of her, of this whole situation, of all of you.”

The drivers exchange glances, a mix of emotions playing across their faces.

“We’re the ones who should be in awe of you,” Carlos says softly. “You’ve given us an incredible gift.”

“He’s right,” Max adds. “No matter which one of us is her biological father, we’re all going to love her. And you.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you. All of you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

As if sensing the emotional moment, Nessa chooses that moment to wake up, her tiny face scrunching up as she lets out a wail.

“Oh boy,” Lando says, his eyes wide. “That’s quite a set of lungs she’s got there.”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa in your arms. “Well, she is a paddock baby. Got to make herself heard over those engines somehow.”

As you soothe the baby, the drivers watch in fascination. It’s clear that despite their earlier bravado, the reality of a newborn is a bit daunting.

“So, uh, what happens now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look up from Nessa, who’s settled back into sleep. “Well, we’ll be here for a couple more days. After that ... I guess we figure it out as we go along.”

Lewis nods thoughtfully. “We’ll need to work out a schedule. Make sure you have support, especially during race weekends.”

“And we’ll need to baby-proof our garages,” Alex adds. “Can’t have her crawling into a stack of tires.”

The conversation turns to practical matters — childcare arrangements, safety considerations, and how to balance their racing careers with their new roles as ... well, whatever they are to Nessa.

As they talk, you can’t help but marvel at the scene. Eleven of the world’s most elite drivers, discussing diaper brands and the merits of various baby carriers with the same intensity they usually reserve for tire strategies and aerodynamics.

“You know,” you say, interrupting a heated debate about the best brand of baby formula, “I think Nessa might be the luckiest baby in the world.”

The drivers pause, looking at you quizzically.

You smile, looking around at each of them. “She’s got eleven of the most dedicated, passionate, and competitive men in the world looking out for her. Plus, she’s guaranteed to have the coolest bring your parent to school day ever.”

The room erupts in laughter, the tension of the day finally breaking.

“Just wait until she’s old enough to drive,” Max says with a grin. “We’ll have her in a kart before she can walk.”

“Oh no,” you groan, though you’re smiling. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?”

“Eleven monsters,” Charles corrects with a wink. “Don’t forget, we’re all in this together.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the room. Nessa sleeps peacefully in your arms, blissfully unaware of the extraordinary circumstances of her birth and the unique family she’s been born into.

Fernando breaks the silence. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “in many ways, this little one embodies the spirit of Formula 1.”

The others look at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Think about it,” he continues. “She’s the product of competition, of pushing boundaries, of taking risks. But she’s also about teamwork, about coming together for a common goal. Just like us on the track.”

The drivers nod, considering Fernando’s words.

“Plus,” Logan adds with a grin, “she’s already got a better sleep schedule than most of us during a race weekend.”

Another round of laughter fills the room, and you feel a surge of affection for these men who have become so much more than colleagues or even friends.

As visiting hours come to an end and the nurses start to shoo the drivers out, there’s a reluctance to leave. Each of them takes a moment to say goodbye to Nessa, promising to return soon.

Before they go, Lewis gathers everyone into a tight circle around your bed.

“I think we need to make a pact,” he says solemnly. “No matter what happens, no matter how our careers go or how life changes, we stick together for Nessa. She’s part of all of us now.”

The drivers nod in agreement, their faces serious.

“For Nessa,” Max says, placing his hand in the center of the circle.

One by one, the others follow suit, until all eleven hands are stacked together.

“For Nessa,” they chorus, and in that moment, you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you and your daughter will never face them alone.

As the drivers file out, casting longing glances back at the sleeping baby, you settle back against your pillows, exhausted but content.

Looking down at Nessa’s peaceful face, you whisper, “Welcome to the world, little one. You’ve got quite the adventure ahead of you.”

And as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but smile at the thought of the unconventional but loving family waiting just outside those hospital doors, ready to take on the world for the tiny girl in your arms.

***

The paddock rushes with activity as teams prepare for the upcoming race weekend. But between the usual hustle and bustle, an unusual sight catches everyone’s attention: you, pushing a stroller with a now six-month-old Nessa, surrounded by a protective circle of drivers.

Max hovers close, his eyes darting around warily. “Are you sure this was a good idea? Bringing her to the track?”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa’s sun hat. “Max, she’s been coming to races since she was born. This is nothing new.”

“Yeah, but now she’s old enough to attract attention,” Charles points out, cooing at Nessa as she gurgles happily.

Lando nods in agreement. “People are starting to ask questions. Did you see that article in Autosport last week?”

You sigh, remembering the speculative piece about Nessa’s parentage. “I saw it. But we knew this day would come eventually.”

As the group makes their way through the paddock, heads turn and whispers follow. The sight of eleven of the world’s top drivers fawning over one baby is certainly not an everyday occurrence.

Carlos leans in, speaking softly. “Maybe we should have come up with a cover story. You know, pick one of us to pretend to be the father.”

George shakes his head. “No, we agreed from the start — no lies. We’re all in this together, remember?”

“Easier said than done,” Logan mutters, noticing a group of journalists eyeing them curiously.

As they approach the Mercedes garage, Lewis spots a familiar face and freezes. “Uh, guys? We might have a problem.”

The others follow his gaze to see your older brother, striding purposefully towards the group. His expression is a mix of confusion and growing anger.

“Seb!” You exclaim, trying to sound casual. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Switzerland.”

Sebastian ignores your greeting, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene before him. “What’s going on here?” He demands, his gaze sweeping over the assembled drivers.

The group exchanges nervous glances, each silently hoping someone else will take the lead.

Finally, Fernando steps forward, ever the diplomat. “Sebastian, my friend. It’s good to see you. Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere more private?”

But Sebastian is having none of it. His eyes lock onto Lewis, who instinctively takes a step back. “Lewis?” He says, his voice dangerously quiet. “Care to explain why you and half the grid are hovering around my sister and a baby?”

Lewis swallows hard, looking to the others for support. Finding none, he takes a deep breath. “Seb, it’s not what you think. Well, it is, but also it isn’t. You see-”

“Lewis?” Sebastian explodes, his face reddening. “I thought better of you!”

The outburst draws even more attention, and you can see team personnel and journalists alike straining to hear what’s happening.

Lewis, caught off guard by Sebastian’s reaction, blurts out, “In my defense, I thought I would get to fuck her!”

A collective gasp goes up from the group, and you bury your face in your hands, mortified.

Sebastian’s eyes widen in shock and fury. “Tha- what? How would that make it better?”

Realizing his mistake, Lewis backpedals frantically. “No, no, that came out wrong! I didn’t mean-”

But Sebastian is beyond listening. He lunges forward, only to be held back by Alex and Oscar.

“Let me go!” Sebastian growls, struggling against their grip. “I’m going to kill him!”

Nessa, startled by the commotion, begins to cry. The sound seems to snap everyone back to reality.

“Enough!” You shout, your voice cutting through the chaos. “All of you, into the motorhome. Now!”

Chastened, the drivers file into the nearby Red Bull motorhome, with Alex and Oscar still keeping a firm grip on Sebastian. You follow, pushing Nessa’s stroller and trying to soothe her.

Once inside, with the door firmly closed against prying eyes and ears, you turn to face the group. Sebastian stands at one end, still glaring daggers at Lewis, who’s wisely put Max and Charles between them.

“Alright,” you say, your voice tight with frustration. “I guess it’s time we explained everything.”

Over the next hour, you and the drivers take turns recounting the story — from your decision to have a baby, to their unconventional offer, to Nessa’s birth and the months since. Sebastian listens in stunned silence, his expression cycling through disbelief, confusion, and finally, grudging understanding.

When the tale is finished, Sebastian slumps into a chair, running a hand over his face. “So let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You,” he points at you, “decided to have a baby on your own. And you lot,” he gestures at the drivers, “thought the best solution was to play some kind of ... paternity lottery?”

Lance nods hesitantly. “When you put it like that, it does sound a bit mad.”

“A bit?” Sebastian laughs incredulously. “It’s completely insane!”

“But it worked,” Carlos points out, gently rocking Nessa, who has calmed down and is now contentedly chewing on his finger. “Look at her, Seb. She’s perfect.”

Sebastian’s expression softens as he looks at his niece. “She is beautiful,” he admits. Then, turning back to the group, he adds sternly, “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you all took advantage of my sister!”

“They didn’t take advantage of me,” you interject firmly. “This was my choice. They were just ... supporting me.”

“By offering to impregnate you?” Sebastian retorts, his protective big brother instincts in full force.

George steps forward, his expression earnest. “Sebastian, I know how this looks. But we care about your sister. All of us. We just wanted to help make her dream come true.”

“And create the world’s most confusing family tree in the process,” Logan mutters, earning a sharp elbow from Lando.

Sebastian sighs, looking around at the assembled drivers. “I still can’t believe you all agreed to this. Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? The media frenzy when this gets out?”

Fernando shrugs philosophically. “Life is full of challenges. This is just another one.”

“Easy for you to say,” Max grumbles. “You’re basically past retirement age. Some of us still have our whole careers ahead of us.”

The room falls silent as the reality of their situation sinks in. The secret they’ve managed to keep for over a year is on the verge of exploding into the public eye.

“So what do we do now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look down at Nessa, who’s drifted off to sleep in Carlos’ arms, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around her. “We tell the truth,” you say firmly. “Or at least, as much of it as we’re comfortable sharing.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Lewis, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet since his earlier outburst, speaks up. “We could say that we all agreed to help you have a child, but keep the details private. No need to mention the ... um, method.”

“You mean the part where you thought you would get to fuck her?” Sebastian growls, causing Lewis to wince.

“I really am sorry about that,” Lewis says sheepishly. “It came out all wrong.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Focus, boys. We need a plan.”

Over the next hour, the group hashes out a strategy. They decide to release a joint statement explaining that you had chosen to become a single mother, and that the drivers, as your close friends, had offered their support. The exact nature of that support would remain private.

As they finalize the details, Sebastian watches the interactions with growing amazement. The way the drivers instinctively work together, finishing each other’s sentences and anticipating potential issues, speaks to a bond that goes beyond mere friendship or even shared paternity.

“You know,” he says finally, interrupting a debate about whether to use the phrase ‘unconventional family’ in their statement, “I think I owe you all an apology.”

The room falls silent, all eyes turning to Sebastian.

He continues, his voice softer now. “I reacted badly earlier. But seeing you all now, how you’ve come together for my sister and for Nessa ... it’s actually kind of beautiful.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes as you move to hug your brother. “Thank you, Seb. That means a lot.”

As you pull away, Sebastian turns to address the group. “But let me make one thing clear,” he says, his tone becoming stern once more. “If any of you ever hurt my sister or my niece, you’ll have me to answer to. Understood?”

The drivers nod solemnly, a mixture of respect and residual fear in their eyes.

“Good,” Sebastian says, a small smile finally breaking through. “Now, who’s going to let me hold my niece?”

As Carlos carefully transfers the sleeping Nessa to Sebastian’s arms, the tension in the room finally dissipates. Watching your brother coo over your daughter, surrounded by the unconventional family you’ve built, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.

“Well,” Lando says, breaking the moment, “I guess the hardest part’s over. Now we just have to explain this to the rest of the world.”

Alex laughs, shaking his head. “Mate, I think that might actually be the easy part. It’s raising her that’s going to be the real challenge.”

As the group dissolves into laughter, discussing potential future scenarios (“Who’s going to teach her to drive?” “All of us, obviously!” “God help us all.”), you can’t help but marvel at the strange and wonderful turn your life has taken.

Looking around at the men who have become so much more than colleagues or friends — who have become family in the truest sense of the word — you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them together. And really, with a support system like this, how can you possibly fail?

As the laughter and chatter continue around you, Nessa stirs in Sebastian’s arms, her tiny hand reaching out. Without hesitation, eleven hands reach back, each driver gently touching a finger or offering a thumb for her to grasp.

In that moment, watching the most competitive men in motorsport melt over one tiny girl, you know that no matter what the future holds, Nessa will never lack for love, support, or, undoubtedly, speed.

***

The sun beats down on the jam-packed karting track, the air thick with the scent of fuel and the buzz of excitement. Amid the crowd of nervous parents and eager young racers, one group stands out: eleven men, a mix of current and former Formula 1 drivers, clustered around a small kart where an eight-year-old girl sits, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and her face a mask of determination.

“Remember, Nessa,” Max says, kneeling beside the kart to look the girl in the eye, “smooth on the throttle, late on the brakes.”

Charles leans in from the other side. “But not too late, mon chou. You don’t want to lock up in the corners.”

“And watch your lines,” Lewis adds, adjusting Nessa’s helmet. “The racing line isn’t always the optimal when you’re being pressured.”

Nessa nods solemnly, taking in every word. “I know, I know. We’ve been over this a million times.”

Lando grins, ruffling her hair. “That’s our girl. You’ve got this, kiddo.”

Around them, other parents and children stare in disbelief. Whispers ripple through the crowd as people recognize the famous faces surrounding the young racer.

“Is that really Lewis Hamilton?” One mother hisses to her husband.

“And Max Verstappen!” The man replies, his eyes wide. “What are they doing here?”

A nearby father shakes his head in amazement. “I heard rumors about that kid, but I didn’t believe them. How can she have so many ... well, fathers?”

Meanwhile, you stand slightly apart from the group, watching the scene with a mix of pride and amusement. Your brother sidles up beside you.

“You know,” he says with a wry smile, “when I imagined my niece’s first race, I didn’t quite picture this circus.”

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh come on, you love it. Besides, you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

As if to prove your point, Sebastian’s eyes narrow as he spots Carlos making a last-minute adjustment to Nessa’s kart. “Hey!” He calls out, striding over. “What are you doing to her suspension?”

Carlos looks up, startled. “Just a small tweak. The track’s a bit bumpy on turn three.”

“It’s fine as it is,” George interjects, crouching down to inspect the kart. “Any softer and she’ll lose responsiveness in the chicane.”

“Actually,” Fernando chimes in, “a slight adjustment might help. But not too much, Carlos.”

As the debate over suspension settings intensifies, Alex notices Nessa’s growing nervousness. He kneels beside her, speaking softly. “Hey, little racer. How are you feeling?”

Nessa bites her lip, her eyes darting between her arguing fathers and the other young racers preparing for the race. “What if I let them down?” She whispers. “They’re all so excited.”

Alex’s expression softens. “Oh, Nessa. You could never let us down. We’re proud of you no matter what happens out there.”

“He’s right,” Oscar adds, overhearing the conversation. “We’re here because we love you, not because we expect you to win.”

“Although winning would be nice,” Logan quips, earning a chorus of groans and eye-rolls from the others.

“What Logan means,” Lance says, shooting a glare at his fellow driver, “is that we want you to do your best and, most importantly, have fun.”

Nessa nods, a small smile finally breaking through her nervous expression. “Okay. I’ll try.”

As the call comes for racers to take their positions, the group reluctantly steps back, allowing Nessa to maneuver her kart to the starting line. You move forward, leaning in to give your daughter a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Remember,” you say softly, “you’re amazing, no matter what happens out there. And we love you more than anything.”

Nessa beams at you, her earlier nerves seeming to melt away. “I love you too. And all my dads,” she adds with a giggle, looking at the assembled drivers.

As you step back to join the others, the atmosphere around you changes. The playful bickering and nervous energy give way to a focused intensity that you recognize from countless race weekends. Eleven pairs of eyes are locked on the small figure in the pink and white kart, second row on the starting grid.

The lights begin their sequence, and you can almost feel the collective intake of breath from the men around you. Green! The karts surge forward, and Nessa makes a good start, holding her position into the first corner.

“That’s it, ma princesse!” Charles cheers, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Hold your line!”

“Watch your inside on turn two,” Max mutters, as if Nessa could hear him. “There’s space if you need it.”

As the race progresses, the commentary from the drivers becomes a constant stream, analyzing every move, every overtake, every defensive maneuver. Other parents cast bewildered glances their way, clearly overwhelmed by the level of scrutiny being applied to what they had assumed would be a casual children’s race.

Midway through the race, Nessa makes a bold move, diving down the inside of the leader into a tight hairpin. The karts touch slightly, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looks like both might spin.

“Steady!” Lewis calls out, his body tensing as if he could somehow influence the outcome through sheer will.

But Nessa manages to control the kart, emerging from the corner in the lead as the other driver runs wide.

The group erupts in cheers, their earlier promises of “it’s not about winning” seemingly forgotten in the heat of the moment.

“Did you see that move?” Lando exclaims, practically bouncing with excitement. “That was pure Norris!”

“Excuse me,” Charles interjects, a proud grin on his face, “I think you mean pure Leclerc. That finesse under pressure? All Ferrari.”

“Oh please,” George scoffs good-naturedly. “That was clearly a Russell special. Calculated risk with perfect execution.”

As the friendly argument over whose racing style Nessa has inherited continues, Sebastian leans in close to you. “You know,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and resignation, “I’m starting to think we created a monster.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, we definitely did. But look how happy they all are.”

Indeed, as you watch the men who have become your family over the past eight years, you’re struck by the pure joy radiating from them. Their focus is entirely on Nessa, their own achievements and rivalries forgotten in their shared pride for this little girl who has somehow become the center of their world.

As the final lap approaches, Nessa is still in the lead, but with another driver close on her tail. The tension among the group reaches fever pitch.

“Come on, Nessa,” Fernando murmurs, his eyes never leaving the track. “You’ve got this. Stay focused.”

“Defend the inside line,” Carlos advises, as if she could hear him. “Don’t give them any space.”

The last corner approaches, and the second-place kart makes a desperate lunge for the inside line. For a moment, it looks like Nessa might be overtaken at the last second.

“No, no, no,” Alex mutters, his hands clenched into fists.

But Nessa holds her nerve, taking a slightly wider line and using her momentum to slingshot out of the corner and across the finish line, just ahead of her rival.

The eruption of cheers from the group of F1 drivers drowns out even the sound of the karts. They jump, hug each other, and pump their fists in the air as if Nessa had just won the World Drivers’ Championship.

As Nessa brings her kart to a stop in the pit area, she’s immediately surrounded by her fathers, each clamoring to be the first to congratulate her.

“That was incredible, little love!” Lewis exclaims, helping her out of the kart.

“You drove like a champion,” Max adds, his face split by an enormous grin.

“I’m so proud of you, mon petit champion,” Charles says, pulling her into a tight hug.

The other parents watch in amazement as Nessa is passed from one racing legend to another, each offering praise, analysis, and suggestions for improvement in equal measure.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” one father mutters to his wife. “How is this fair? That kid has a whole F1 pit crew!”

His wife shushes him, but nods in agreement, her eyes wide as she watches the scene unfold.

Meanwhile, you make your way through the crowd of excited drivers to reach your daughter. As you approach, the men part to let you through, their chatter dying down.

You kneel in front of Nessa, taking in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” You ask softly.

Nessa’s face breaks into a wide grin. “That was amazing! Did you see when I overtook on the hairpin? And the last corner, I thought for sure he was going to pass me, but I remembered what Papa Fernando said about late apexes, and it worked!”

You laugh, pulling her into a hug. “I saw it all, baby. You were incredible.”

As you release her, Nessa looks around at the circle of beaming faces surrounding her. “Did I make you proud?” She asks, a hint of her earlier nervousness returning.

“Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Sebastian says, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“You exceeded all our expectations,” Fernando adds with a warm smile.

“And trust me,” Lando chimes in with a wink, “our expectations were pretty high to begin with.”

As Nessa basks in the praise and attention of her unconventional family, a race official approaches, looking slightly overwhelmed.

“Excuse me,” he says hesitantly, “but we need to do the podium ceremony now.”

The drivers reluctantly step back, allowing Nessa to follow the official to the makeshift podium. As she takes her place on the top step, her face beaming with pride, you find yourself surrounded by eleven grown men, each looking as proud as if they had just won a world championship themselves.

“You know,” Oscar says softly, his eyes never leaving Nessa as she receives her trophy, “I think we might be in trouble.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, turning to look at him.

He grins, a mixture of pride and mock fear in his eyes. “If she’s this good at eight, can you imagine what she’ll be like at eighteen? We might be out of jobs.”

The group chuckles, but there’s a note of truth in Oscar’s words. As you watch Nessa on the podium, her small hands raised in triumph, you can’t help but wonder what the future holds for this extraordinary little girl with her eleven F1 driver fathers.

But for now, as the sound of applause fills the air and you see the pure joy on Nessa’s face, you push those thoughts aside. There will be time enough for worrying about the future later. For now, you’re content to bask in this moment of triumph, surrounded by the most unconventional and wonderful family you could have ever imagined.

As Nessa runs back to the group, her trophy clutched tightly in her hands, she’s enveloped in a group hug that threatens to lift her off her feet. And in that moment, watching the pure love and pride radiating from these men who have given your daughter so much more than just their DNA, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, Nessa will always have the strongest support system imaginable.

After all, with her fathers in her corner, how can she possibly fail?

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luveline · 7 months ago

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would you ever write about hotch pining after r because he thinks she’s interested in someone else but then she confesses to him that she’s only ever had eyes for him 🥹

You’re shocked Hotch will let them look at him, honestly. When was the last time you saw Hotch receive medical attention? He doesn’t seem happy about it, suit jacket folded in his lap, his shirt cut in three places, most noticeably the left sleeve.

“His arm is definitely broken,” Spencer tells you.

“Do you think he’ll let me give him some comfort?” you ask, the two of you with your arms crossed against the side of the second ambulance, where Morgan undergoes a similarly reluctant checkup for his bloody temple.

“No. You can always try, though. He’ll appreciate the effort.”

You ready yourself with a deep breath and begin the short walk. It feels long then suddenly over at the same time. The only thing between you and Hotch now is a shoe’s width and the EMT securing his temporary sling.

“They’re making me an emergency appointment,” he tells you.

You fight the urge to rub the toe of your shoe into the ground. “Are you in pain?”

“No. They gave me tramadol.”

Hotch pushed you hard out of the way of a brawl and took blows meant for you in turn. He never lets you get hurt in the field. At first you’d assumed him to be the overprotective boss, and careful of women in the team, but you’ve caught on now that his motivation wells from somewhere deeper.

Hotch loves you. He won’t tell you. You have no idea why.

The EMT says she’ll return and takes her leave. You nod to the patch of metal flooring beside him, legs too tired to keep standing, and Hotch moves over to leave a gap between you suitable for turning into. You sit down with a sigh. Face to face, this close, you can see the different colours of his iris and the scar under his eyebrow clear as day.

“You okay?”

“Are you?” he asks with nothing more than a single short nod.

“I’m worried about you,” you confess. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. I can take care of myself, okay? I don’t like you getting hurt in my place.”

“I’m your Unit Chief.”

“If it were Morgan, you wouldn’t have pushed him out of the way. If it were Emily. And we both know I can hold my own.”

He doesn’t look away from your face. “I know.”

You’re finding it hard to want to scold him. You love him, too. You appreciate what it takes for him to take a fight that was meant for you, and the sentiment behind it. You’d quite like for him to protect you, just not at work. He could glare down potential suitors or argue with people who are rude to you at the grocery store. He doesn’t need to do your job for you.

You raise your hand tentatively to his face, ignoring his confusion as you rake the hair that falls against his forehead back up. “It’s getting a little long for you.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Me too. I keep meaning to do so much stuff but we get home and I get to my apartment and I just sleep for days.”

“I wish I did something that sensible.”

You curl your fingers over his shoulder. Without his suit jacket, you can feel the solidness of his muscle and soft tissue clearly. You rub your thumb in a half circle.

“Why don’t you sleep much? I wish you would.”

His eyes flare momentarily. His only tell, a flicker of movement you can’t miss. He’s surprised by something, your question, maybe your tone. “I do sleep.”

“Not enough.”

“No, I guess not.”

You press your cheek to his arm. Can’t help yourself. He’s this strong, stern guy, so used to trying to save everyone that he barely looks after himself, and it makes you sad to think he’d love you and not want to tell you, because why wouldn’t he? Something in him must stop him from acting on it, but that something isn’t in you, not anymore. “Can’t believe you got your arm broken for me,” you murmur, lips to his shirt. You let out a breath, feel the warmth of it pass onto his skin and his following shudder.

“It wasn’t purposeful.”

“No? That’s good.”

“I would do it again,” he says. “I thought you’d be with Morgan.”

“Morgan’s a big boy.”

“As opposed to me.”

“I want to be here with you. I’m worried about you.” You press your face further into his arm, scared to say it even though you know it’s returned. “I care about you so much, ‘n’ you never let me show it.”

“That’s not true,” —his voice climbs higher— “I thought… You and Derek are close.”

“He’s my friend, Hotch. It’s not like that.”

Hesitant, tender all the same, Hotch’s uninjured arm slinks around your side to hold you, to bring you closer to his side where you’re hiding. You’re much too old for this, and still you have to confess.

“I don’t like him,” you say.

“As opposed to me.”

You laugh at his repetition. Too embarrassed to say anything more on the subject but wanting to cement it in his head, you raise your head and your hand at the same time, knuckle to his jawline, nudging him to one side. You lean up and kiss his cheek.

“Please don’t push me out of the way again,” you say.

Hotch smiles at you, a proper, soft-eyed smile. “I won’t.”

It’s an obvious lie.

“Maybe when we go home we can nap together,” you suggest, heart slamming considering the innocence of what you’ve suggested.

His fingers cradle your side. “You want to?” he asks carefully.

“You can finally get some rest.”

He closes his eyes, resting his face against yours.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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street-smarts00 · 5 months ago

Text

Weirdest Place

Spencer Reid x gen neutral!reader

Summary: The team finds out you and Spencer have been dating during a night out.

WC: 1.1k

A/N: this is yet another fic based on an episode of friends, specifically a scene from the blackout episode but i added a fun twist lol

Tags: conversations about sex but not smut, established relationship between r & reid, consumption of alcohol

After the team was finished at the BAU they all went out to a local bar for drinks. As the night went on JJ and Hotch left to be at home with their kids. With their boss gone and the tipsiness from their drinks, the topic of conversation got more and more inappropriate.

“A boat?” Rossi asked

“Yes,” Derek confirmed

“A boat?” Emily spoke this time.

“Why don’t you believe me?” Derek asked, slightly offended.

Emily raised her hands in defense, “It’s not that we don’t believe you.”

“It just seemed like your weirdest place would be a bit more adventurous based on how you brought it up,” Rossi voiced.

Derek furrowed his eyebrows, “and a boat isn’t adventurous?”

“No it is,” Penelope chuckled before reaching for her drink. Of course, she’d already heard about Derek’s nautical escapades.

Derek directed his attention back to Emily, “And what about you? What’s your weirdest place?”

She leaned back in her seat with a tinge of embarrassment she tried to hide with smugness. “That’s classified,”

Rossi and Derek cringed at Emily’s diversion.

“Oh god,” Rossi chuckled before taking a sip of his drink.

“Do I even wanna know?” Derek asked half joking.

Emily shrugged instead of answering. Derek decided he was better off not pushing Emily to share her story. He then brought his attention to the man across from him.

“What about you, pretty boy?”

Spencer’s head darted to him with raised eyebrows. “Me?”

“You got a weirdest place?”

“I- um.”

His ears started to turn a shade of crimson and he stuttered on his words, or lack thereof since he was caught off guard.

“It’s probably like a library or something,” Rossi jokes, earning a bright laugh from Derek.

Penelope set her drink down, “don’t make him say it if he doesn’t- “

“Actually it was.”

Everyone froze and turned to Spencer.

Emily was the first to speak, “What?”

Spencer shifted in his seat while the courage he had before started to dwindle. His face was now officially turning red.

“Me and um- someone were at the library because I was showing her it’s Edgar Allen Poe collection. Then at some point we ended up in … um the second floor bathroom.”

“Oh my god,” Penelope giggled before placing her hand on her mouth in shock.

“I can’t believe I was right,” Rossi commented.

“I can’t believe Spencer Reid was getting freaky in a library,” Derek said with a humorous grin.

“Shut up,” Spencer squeaked in a high pitched voice.

He hoped the topic of conversation would quickly be dropped so he didn’t have to reveal too much about his love life. But he suspected that wouldn’t happen once you came back to the table.

You and Spencer had started dating a few months prior and wanted to keep things to yourselves. You both intended to figure out the beginning of your relationship without the eyes of your friends.

“The line for the bathroom was so long,” you complained as you approached the table and sat down next to Spencer. “What did I miss?”

“Oh we never heard Y/N’s place,” Penelope excitedly pointed out.

You looked at her confused, “What place?”

“I have no clue how we got here but they all started talking about the weirdest places they’ve had sex,” Emily explained.

“Wow. Well, when I’m done I need to hear all of yours,” you pointed your glass in a motion towards all of them before drinking the last sip.

“I usually don’t venture outside the bedroom but out of the few times I have I think there’s two tied for first place.”

“What’s one of them?”

“Library.”

Silence fell over the group. Spencer’s stomach dropped to the floor at your answer. His face turned cherry red and his eyes remained frozen on the table in front of him.

You on the other hand were baffled at the reaction from your friends.

“What?”

While your eyes scanned the group you were met with relatively neutral expressions that didn’t match the growing tension in the air. All of them looked as if they wanted to say something, but not one of them was ready to speak.

Embarrassment and regret were creeping their way towards you in silence. Your body tensed up and you folded your arms in front of you.

“Come on guys, it's not that weird. It’s not like we were in an aisle, we were in the bathroom,” you tried to defend yourself.

That sentence seemed to spark something in the group. Their body language started to relax but still had a bit of hesitation. They all knew at this point, but they wanted you to confirm it.

“What floor?”

You followed the voice to Emily “Excuse me?”

“What floor was the bathroom on?”

You couldn’t wrap your head around her question.

“Why does that matter?”

“It does, which floor?” Penelope questioned this time.

“Second I think,” you hesitated, still confused.

“Oh my god!” Penelope squealed. “You guys are sleeping together?”

With your eyes wide, face hot, and heart pounding, you stared at her. Trying to figure out how a story like this was one they already heard. You forgot until now that they were already playing this game before you got back.

Turning to the side you playfully smacked Spencer’s arm. “You told them that?”

He gaped at you and grabbed his arm. Face still red of course now accompanied with a crack in his voice. “I didn’t think you were gonna tell them. I thought you would have talked about the other time.”

“Why would I tell them that?” You said in a quieter tone.

“What other time?” Derek interrupted, filled with curiosity.

Rossi pipped in next, “you said two places were tied for weirdest, what’s the other place?”

You and Spencer went quiet. You looked at each other before returning your gaze to the group.

“I think this is a great time to get a refill,” you grabbed your glass and stood up. “Spencer, coming with?”

He quickly scrambled to stand up, “Absolutely.”

The two of you made your way to the bar as your friends all started murmuring.

“So, you didn’t want to tell them you had sex on a plane?” He asked with a slight smirk.

“No, of course not!” You squealed which earned a laugh from him.

“Eventually they would’ve found out we’re dating and I didn’t want them to figure out it was on the jet,” you explained.

“It’s not like any of them were there,” he said before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“I still don’t wanna get fired.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid headcanon #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction

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wonderjanga · 1 month ago

Text

Marvel and Wonder Woman

@actuel-idiot is a major reason I’m writing this! They gave me the idea so the credit goes to them.

Diana has a special relationship with Captain Marvel. They’re family. Technically. But they’re family! The man has no problem treating her like one of his own, and it’s not like Diana has any of her other family in man’s world so she’ll take what she can get. The only downside is that no one knows his actual identity, including Diana. Half the people in the JL don’t even believe he has one, but when Diana asked, he confirmed he did. She hoped that one day he would share his identity with her, but for the meantime, she’d just continue to enjoy their bond.

Like, for example, Diana talks to Marvel whenever she misses Themyscira. The very first time she started missing her home was about a few weeks after the JL formed. (Marvel’s a founding member in this post)

WW: “Captain, do you ever miss home?”

Marvel: “Hm? I guess so?” *confused*

WW: “You guess so? Do you not miss Olympus? I assume that’s where you grew up.”

Marvel: “Oh, no. I’ve never been to Olympus. If that’s what you mean by home. It isn’t.”

WW: “Then where is your home?”

Marvel: “Well, I haven’t had a home in a long time. So, I can’t particularly say. All I know is that I can’t go back, and as the years go by, I hate to say it but I barely remember it.” He only knows what his dad looks like due to his Marvel form, and he only remembers his mom due to Mary’s form. As for what they were like? A lot of the memories are fuzzy. “So, unfortunately… there isn’t really much to miss.”

WW: “Do you think I’ll forget about Themyscira?”

Marvel: “I don’t know. But that’s why it’s important to make a home wherever you go. That, and if you really don’t wanna forget, you can always try and find people who used to call your home theirs.” *shrugs*

WW: “I don’t believe there are any other Amazonians and man’s world.”

Marvel: “Well… not technically.” *little smile* “You know, a few thousand years ago I was an Amazonian at some point.”

WW: “What…?”

Marvel: “Shocking. I know.” *little laugh*

WW: “But you’re a man?” *dumbfounded expression*

Marvel: “Yeah, I know, but I wasn’t always. If you want, I could tell you some stuff about the first island.”

WW: “The first Themyscira? You were alive back then?”

Marvel: “Yup.”

WW: *stares for a bit* “I’d… I’d like that a lot. Please share.”

The two spend the rest of the evening talking about all the lore about Themyscira, Diana’s mother, Diana’s aunts, the culture back then, the dialects, and so on.

Then, there was the incident with Circe. She had cast a spell on Diana, turning her into a child. After it had happened, she left and soon a mini Diana was swarmed by the leaguers.

Marvel: “Wait, so she still knows who we all are, she’s just a little kid?”

Batman: *nods head* “Correct.”

WW: *looking around as the other leaguers fawn over her cause she’s adorable*

Batman: “It also altered her mindset, making her more childish.”

WW: *spots Marvel and her eyes sparkle* “Big brother!” *runs over to Marvel and crashes into his legs hugging them*

Marvel: “Woah!” *slightly startled at her running over* “Wow, Diana, you’re still so strong.” *takes on the tone he uses to talk to Darla (aka big brother/father tone) as he leans down to pick her up*

WW: *nods head* “Yeah!”

Marvel: *moves to carry her like she’s his own daughter*

The two proceed to talk about whatever as the other JL members coo at the two looking like father and daughter. Same black hair and blue eyes. Also, Zeus was gnawing at the bars of his metaphorical cage when he saw this. His daughter was too precious. As soon as the other leaguers blinked, he took little Diana and they proceeded to go fight Mr.Mind together. They then went for ice cream afterwords. Now, they’re eating their respective cones while sitting on the edge of a building.

Marvel: “You did such a good job, Diana. That one punch at that one robot that sent it flying into three other ones was amazing.” *smiles and ruffles Diana’s hair*

WW: *giggles and licks ice cream* “Thanks, dad.”

Marvel: *pauses mid bite of ice cream* (Yes, I’m making Billy bite his ice cream)

WW: *doesn’t even realize she said that*

Zeus: “You… YOU STOLE MY DAUGHTER?!” *thunderclouds in the distance*

Billy proceeded to have to make many offerings to Zeus to make him calm down after the incident. For a week straight, he kept getting little shocks whenever he touched stuff.

#billy batson #captain marvel dc #dc captain marvel #shazam #fawcett #fawcett city #fawcett comics #diana prince #wonder woman

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hoshifighting · 1 month ago

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hii !! i was wondering a svt reaction to a sensitive reader that gets wet easily :) tysm !

WARNINGS: smut, body fluids(cum), dirty talk.

seungcheol: “oh, so this is all I have to do?” and suddenly he’s whispering things in your ear just to make it worse, teasing in all ways he can remember.

jeonghan: he’d act all innocent about it, like he had no idea why you’re blushing and squeezing your thighs together. “what’s got you so worked up, sweetheart?” he’d ask, feigning obliviousness, even though he knows damn well.

joshua: would try to play it cool but can’t help the way his cheeks flush. “wow, you must really like me, huh?” he’d chuckle, feigning confidence while sneaking in closer. you can tell he’s kind of shy about it.

junhui: can’t stop grinning. thinks it’s the funniest and hottest thing he’s ever seen. “oh, really? i just look at you, and that’s it?” and suddenly, he’s got his hands all over you, acting like it’s his personal mission to see just how fast he can work you up.

hoshi: he’d go full-on theatrical, clutching his heart and gasping, “oh no, my poor baby! how can i help?” while pretending to be all concerned. but then he’d definitely leajn in for a kiss, smirking like he just found the key to your horniness.

woozi: gets all shy but absolutely cannot resist. he’d look at you with intrigue and just be like, “wait... what?” and when he realizes it’s real, he’s suddenly way more into it, floating an idea to see if he can get you even wetter. “guess i’m doing something right, hm?”

wonwoo: “so wet already?” he’d be super calm about it, but his hands would wander intentionally, as if he’s mapping out every sensitive spot you’ve got. “so you’re saying I have to work a little harder to keep you dry? challenge accepted.”

minghao: “oh, didn’t know I had that effect on you so quickly.” he’d have this smug tiny smirk, finding it adorable. he’d keep his touches feather-light, making you squirm just because he loves knowing he can make you lose control with the slightest effort.

mingyu: absolutely acts like he’s surprised, even though he’s totally aware of the effect he has on you. “poor baby... i didn’t even do anything.” he’s raising an eyebrow, acting ingenuous but totally loving how easy it is to get you going.

seokmin: he’d be a bit shy about it at first, totally flustered but fascinated. “you’re really that sensitive? hmm, what if i—” he’d ask, all wide-eyed. then he’d get more curious, fingers grazing over your pussy with the lightest touch, his face lighting up every time you shivered or gasped.

seungkwan: “fuck babe... you're dripping on me” he’d laugh, before biting his bottom lip, trying to suck all of his horniness back inside his body, a little incredulous but also secretly loving it, especially if he’s the reason. he’d tease you relentlessly but would be so into seeing what other reactions he could pull out of you.

vernon: looks at you with a little smirk, half shocked. “really? that’s all it takes?” and then he’d go quiet, probably letting his actions speak for themselves, trying to see just how quickly he can get you going.

chan: would probably tease you nonstop. “wow, you’re so easy! i can’t believe it!” he’d laugh, leaning in to get a closer look, watching the how you're dripping just from some tit-sucking. like he's on a mission to make you flustered.

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luffysprincess · 4 months ago

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LIE DETECTOR TEST : ISAGI YOICHI

⊹ summary : the blue lock boys are invited to take a lie detector test, but they’ve got to answer twitter’s unfiltered questions

⊹ pairing : isagi yoichi x reader (established relationship)

⊹ wc : 543

⊹ warnings : reader is referred to as “girl” with she/her pronouns, suggestive, mentions of oral sex, if I’m missing something pls lmk!! MINORS DNI

⊹ A/N : this is a repost from my prev blog bc i wanna continue this series and i cant post the next part without the context from this one so if it looks familiar, thats why. ALSO if anyone has a reblog of bachira's part somewhere pls send me the link!!

⊹ bachira’s version | kunigami’s version

“Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s do this”

“@/isagisbbybgrl asks How big is your dick?”

Isagi had practically choked on his own spit at the question. “Wha—why is this the first question?!”

“I’m just reading out what Twitter wants to know?”, the interviewer laughs at the shock in his face. “Now answer the question.”

Isagi, Kunigami and Bachira were currently sat side by side across from their interviewer. They had been invited to guest star on LockX , one of the most popular podcasts to date relating to everything and anything Blue Lock. And today they were asked to answer a few fan questions from Twitter all while hooked up to a lie detector. Up first was Isagi, who looked like he was already regretting coming today.

“Like 10 inches” he sighed out. All heads turned to the polygraph examiner— Milo was his name.

“There’s no way—“

“Truth”

Bachira laughs out at Kunigami’s disbelief while the latter mumbles to himself. Something about not believing it till he sees it himself.

“Wait, now I’m curious” Bachira scooted forward and turned to Isagi. “How much of it does your girl take in her mouth?

“What the fuck Megs? Nope. I’m not talking about Y/N here. Not like that.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but more than half these Twitter asks are about her,” the interviewer adds.

“Come onnnn Yoichi”

“Fine. All of it. Next question”

“Milo?”

“He’s telling the truth” Milo nods back, while the room fills with whistles and cheers to Isagi, who’s hidden his face behind a hand but can’t help the proud smirk that grows on his face at the thought of you taking all of him.

“Okay okay” the interviewer laughs before he directs his next question, “User @/mysagiballs asks where is your favorite place to kiss a partner?”

“Hey at least this one’s not about Y/N”

“Ehh it technically is,” Bachira counters.

“It basically is,” Isagi sighs once again, finally accepting that this is what the rest of the interview will be like. “Her lips, that’s my favorite place to kiss her”

“He’s lying.”

“Wha- No I’m not!”

“Another lie”

“I feel like of all the questions you’ve been asked, this is the most mild.” Kunigami speaks up.

“But you’re lying about it, which means there’s something juicy you’re hiding” Bachira teases.

“Fine, her cheek”

“Still lying”

“Seriously Milo!”

This continues on for a few minutes, Isagi calling out a bodypart and Milo calling out his bullshit.

Her neck. Lie. Her shoulders. Lie. Her hands. Lie.

Meanwhile Bachira and Kunigami have practically fallen off the sofa in tears, laughing at how frustrated Isagi grows with every call of his bluff.

“Between her legs, alright?! I’m not getting any more specific than that. You can figure the rest out yourselves I’m sure”, he glares at Milo as he grumbles out his final answer.

“That was the…truth”

It takes a few moments for Bachira to calm down from his hysterics but then he’s teasing Isagi for being so naughty, giggling at the sight of his friend aggressively ripping off the cuffs and sensors connecting him to the polygraph.

“Yeah yeah, laugh all you want now but you’re going next.” Isagi grins at him, excited to see his friend suffer the same as he did.

#bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #isagi yoichi #bllk isagi #blue lock isagi #isagi x reader #isagi x you #isagi yoichi x reader #blue lock anime #bllk lie detector series

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arieslost · 8 months ago

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talk | op81

summary: oscar loves to talk your ear off.

word count: 1,276

masterlist — join my tag list here!

everyone who had told you that oscar piastri wasn’t much of a talker was a bold-faced liar.

that, or maybe they just never got to see that side of him.

before you started dating oscar, you totally believed it. the first few interactions the two of you had were awkward and brief, usually ending in you thinking that he actually hated you and only engaged in small talk to be nice.

the oscar you know now is nothing like the oscar you first met, and even though you’ve been with him for the better part of two years, his ability to talk for hours is still as shocking to you as it was in the beginning.

it started out innocently enough. the first time you hadn’t been able to attend a race, oscar called you the moment he was back in his hotel room. you’d only been dating for five months at that point, and you vividly remember your shock when you accepted the facetime call and he started talking at a mile a minute. you’d barely gotten out a “hello” before he started recapping his entire day in precise detail. he didn’t even stop to take a drink of water in his enthusiasm.

that turned into the two of you developing a routine. every time you couldn’t make it to a race, oscar would call you at the end of the day and tell you everything he’d been dying to tell you.

“you could text me some of this stuff, you know,” you told him once, and he had wrinkled his nose cutely.

“why would i text it to you when i can just tell you about it on the phone?” he’d responded, like your suggestion was completely outlandish.

it’s endearing, really, the way he’s always so excited every time you pick up the phone. like he is right now.

“hi, honey!” he says brightly the moment the call connects and you can see each other’s faces.

“hey, oz,” you smile, your mood immediately lifting at the sound of his voice. “how was your day?”

“oh, i have so much to tell you,” he leans forward, his hair obscuring the camera for a moment before he leans back with a piece of paper in his hand.

“what is that?” you ask, watching as he unfolds it.

“this, my love, is my list.” he says, turning it around so you can see the way the page is full of his writing, not only on the lines but in the margins, too. “if i can read my own handwriting.”

“busy day?” you pull the hood of your sweatshirt further over your head so it covers more of your screen.

“you have no idea. i don’t even know where to start.” he sighs, eyes scanning the paper before he looks back up at the camera. “but i want to hear about your day first.”

“ah, it was okay. boring. i got so used to traveling around with you that i don’t know what to do now that i’m home all by myself.” it’s a lie, of course.

you wouldn’t miss oscar’s birthday for the world, and that was why you’d been so believable when you told him that you were so sorry, but you couldn’t make it to japan for the next race. even thinking about not being with him for his birthday was enough to upset you, so he bought it easily. conspiring with mark and lando, you’d gotten your hands on a plane ticket and formed a plan to get to the hotel with oscar being none the wiser.

which is how you’re here, at the end of the hallway on his hotel floor, waiting for the perfect time to interject.

“oh, i have to tell you about how free practice went, the second session, not the first,” he’s saying, squinting a little at the paper. “i wrote it over something else and i can’t see what it says. whatever. anyway, it’s raining here, and, like, half the cars didn’t end up going out for the second session. i was just trying to do my best for the session but i ended up setting the fastest lap! i didn’t even know until i got out of the car. did you watch? i don’t know if you did, i forgot to ask you, but i think it was a 1:34 or something like that. i could’ve been faster, obviously, but it was raining. its still raining right now actually which kind of sucks. i wouldn’t mind if you were here, but it’s just miserable and cold.” he pauses to take a breath. “wait, where are you?”

well that you weren’t expecting. “at home… where else would i be?” you reply, hoping that your confusion looks genuine.

“your background looks… i dunno.” he presses his lips together. “doesn’t look the same.”

“well, i’m at home,” you repeat, trying to come up with something on the fly. “pretending that i’m talking to you face to face instead of through the phone, like always.”

“ah, yeah. i do that all the time,” he admits, giving up on his scrutinization of what little he can see behind your hood.

“i miss you,” he says then, and its absolute hell knowing you can’t knock on his door just yet.

“i miss you too, oz.” you whisper. “keep telling me about your day?”

“sure, honey.” he gives you a soft smile, once again consulting his piece of paper. “so after the second session, i went and got dinner— oh wait, i forgot to tell you what happened earlier! i left the hotel room—”

you were hoping to let him tire himself out a bit from talking so much before approaching the door, but with every little detail of his day he shares you wish more and more that he was saying it directly to you and not through the phone, so you give up on being patient and knock three times.

“hold on, baby. someone’s at the door.” he says on the other end of the call, getting up from where he’s sitting on the bed and leaving his phone behind, so you end the call to free both of your hands.

the look on his face when he opens the door is priceless. “you’re joking.”

“i figured you should tell me the rest in person,” you say. “besides, i’d be damned if i missed your birthday.”

“you’re joking,” he repeats, pulling you and your suitcase into the room and wrapping you into a tight hug. “you’re actually here.”

“of course i’m here.” you laugh, kissing his shoulder through the loose material of his worn out t-shirt. “i don’t want to be anywhere else but here.”

“i’m so happy,” is all your enthusiastic, talkative boyfriend says before kissing you, smiling against your lips the whole time.

“you hung up on me?” its the first thing he says once the two of you are cuddled up in bed, and your jaw drops.

“seriously? i’m right here, and you’re gonna come for me for hanging up on you?”

“i would never hang up on you, but whatever,” he rolls his eyes, but cuddles you closer all the same. “okay, you have to know what lando told me last night about this one thing he did over winter break. it doesn’t sound bad at first, but i promise you it gets so much worse.”

you sigh in content, happier than anything to be in oscar’s arms and listening to him talk your ear off for the foreseeable future. you would never lie about it— you don’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.

note: happy oscar dayyy!! wishing my fellow aries the best birthday ever and i hope you all enjoyed this 🫶🏼 i low key hate it but hopefully that’s just me lolz

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @lightsoutletsgo

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papaya-twinks · 9 days ago

Note

can you do a shot about Lando and innocent quiet reader who’s like very timid and cute and barely knows anything about sex but she asks him if they can do it and he of course agrees and like gives her a safe word which scares her a little but he calms her down and they end up having really good sex also like the reader has a very quiet soft voice and when she moans or even talks you can barely hear it and she’s quite tiny like short and really skinny (not an ed just naturally skin and bones)

thanks <3

Warnings: Smut, 18+ virgin!reader, safe word, praise

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

“And you’re sure?” Lando repeated, his voice tinged with apprehension. You were sitting there, your hair in two braids, giving him puppy eyes, wearing your fluffy teddy bear slipper, asking about sex.

“Yes!” you squeaked, shaking his shoulders as he side, his hands coming to your small waist to stable you. “We need a safe word, and it’s gonna be papaya, okay?” he said, watching you shift around on his lap.

“A safe word?” you stared at him, your eyes wide, almost scared. “Baby,” Lando said, a smile playing at his lips - he could hardly believe you wanted to have sex but didn’t even know what a safe word was.

“You just say it if it gets too much, basically,” he explained, a smile on his face as you nodded slowly. “You can’t be all wriggly though,” he said, moving his hand gently onto your thigh, keeping you steady as you stayed on your back.

You gasped, your back arching slightly as you felt Lando lifted your skirt, the pad of his finger running over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Wow, baby,” Lando said, his free hand wrapping round both your wrists as he pressed a kiss to your knee.

“You’re gonna be good and not wriggle?” he asked, looking to you, his finger freezing on your clothed folds. “Yeah,” you nodded breathlessly, sitting up properly so you could watch him, your breath hitched.

Your back arched, against your own will, as he moved your panties aside, running a finger through your folds, the feeling not unwelcome. “How’s that feel?” he asked, his voice soft as he kissed your cheek again.

“Different,” you said, “in a good way, I like it,”. He gave a hum of approval, slowly inching his fingers into your core. You gasped, the feeling half-stinging but feeling good, your toes curling slightly.

“Remember the safe word,” Lando said, his voice laced with warning, as he caught sight of your scrunched nose. “N-No it’s fine, keep going,” you hissed as he stretched his fingers slightly.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” he groaned, his voice deep as he traced the shell of your ear with his lips. You couldn’t say anything but squeak, your core full of hie three fingers, his thumb rubbing over your clit.

Your lips parted, just watching him pull his joggers down, holding his cock as he pumped himself. “C’mere,” he mumbled, pulling you down by your thighs, pushing himself in as you gasped, your eyes wide.

“Good?” he asked, slowly inching into you. “Just unfamiliar,” you nodded, your hands on his shoulders. You squeaked again as he started moving, your moans soft, voice quiet with mumbles of “Lando, you’re so big”.

He’d just hum and nod in approval, his thumbs running soft patterns into the skin of your waist, small in his hands, the bump in your tummy, where his cock pushed in and out, very evident.

“The prettiest,” he mumbled, watching your eyes goes glazy, your cheeks a pretty pink as you held onto him for dear life. “You close?” Lando mumbled into your ear as you nodded, moaning softly again.

You came with him, your orgasm sending your body into small spasms, legs shaking as he pulled out, your tummy covered in his seed as you lay there, half in shock and half exhausted. “How was it?” he asked, as if waiting your approval.

“S’good,” you mumbled, “wanna do it again-,” you started as he laughed. “Slow down, sweetheart,” he kissed your forehead, “maybe later, but for now, I’m gonna clean you up,”.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando x reader #f1 #lando norris smut

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bakugoushotwife · 2 months ago

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in my opinion, gojo’s storyline has been handled so so poorly i can’t help but think it’s intentional. it is not bad writing to kill a character—even a beloved character. i know most people will dismiss my criticisms because gojo is so beloved to me and so many others. i’ve said before that i don’t mind if he died. does it hurt? of course, and i would still cry and be sad about it. but there is a beautiful way to do it. with respect and honor for his legacy—for what he has done for your manga, the characters in it, and audiences worldwide. but no…gege chose the path of horror and disrespect. at certain points i’d say to myself, well. this is a dark manga. but essentially gojo is the only character that receives this treatment. since the beginning—since suguru left him, he’s been wondering if he mattered because he was a person, or if he only mattered because he was powerful and useable. we certainly fucking answered that question. he is a weapon and nobody ever cared about him at all!!!

and we knew he was being used—he knew he was being used, but he is selfless. so he did it for his kids. for megumi and yuuji and yuuta—he wanted them to be safe. in these flashbacks it’s exceedingly clear that he knew he would die. again—that’s not my issue. gojo dying to sukuna makes plenty of sense and it would hurt to leave it there. but to give us an afterlife scene where he’s presented a choice—north and south—that concept lead nowhere, that’s truly fucked up. to leave all the subtle clues and hints for no reason but to keep people reading and theorizing his return is fucked up. to continue to use his imagery to promote your manga when you know he’s not even honored in your manga is fucked up. we don’t get a funeral or a grave for him. no one’s spoken about him in chapters despite him fighting for hours against sukuna and damaging him so much that yuuji could win, nothing. yuuta wearing him like a costume and no one is horrified about it. i thought his students WERE different. they weren’t jujutsu society yet. that’s why gojo was their teacher—shaping them into better human beings. how am i supposed to trust in their future when it seems they’re just as cold and heartless as everyone before them? no one has honored gojo in any way since the moment he died. and they’ve forgotten about him. he spent his entire life fighting and no one can even say thank you. gege intentionally used gojo to promote the end of his manga because he knows that gojo fans make up at least half of his fanbase so had we stopped reading when he died, he would have lost a lot of traction. he baited us intentionally, cruelly, and something that transcends storytelling. i’ve truly never seen a mangaka have this sort of vitriol for one of their characters and the people that love him.

we spent the entire last chapter talking about some random fucking mission when we have several unanswered questions and concerns. i thought gege said he wanted this ending to be shocking and something you didn’t see in shonen? tying everything up neatly where no one has any trauma or grief for what they’ve experienced, everyone comes back to life except the one character you hate specifically and choso, defying your own power structures and having everyone laughing into the sunset is exactly how shonen ends so what in the fuck is he talking about??

let me disclaim, this is not megumi hate at all. i love him very much and i am so happy he’s back with the group but like. he shouldn’t be able to even walk. he tanked unlimited void for over 6 minutes whenever that length caused irreversible damage to sukuna himself. not to mention the countless black flashes. so what the fuck? he doesn’t mention gojo at all?? the first time he laughs in this manga is after he reads a note written by his dead fucking caretaker about his dead fucking father? like i don’t believe. random open ended kenjaku/suguru mention just to piss me off, an absolutely no mention of gojos sacrifice or how they’ll miss him. i’m sick to my stomach. gege defiled his memory both in the story and outside of it. wow.

P.S. SUKUNA CARED MORE ABOUT GOJO THAN ANYONE ELSE (SUGURU IS NOT INCLUDED IN THIS I MEAN HIS STUDENTS AND SOCIETY)

#jjk finale #jjk 271 #jjk spoilers #jjk271 spoilers #my comments

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earlysunshines · 5 months ago

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once in a moon

pham hanni x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: hanni meets the new girl and she's oddly familiar -- familiar in a way that makes her heart ache.

warnings: childhood friends to something less, more, and in between, to lovers ; basketball player reader ooo and hanni is in student gov ; angst AND pining omg ; minji a victim (bystander of idiots) always ; hyein fr plotting ; THERE'S ONLY ONE BED??? ahahaa ; making out YAY ; anything else I didn't mention ; guess what... KINDA proofread muahahaha

a/n: mmm quite long like... looong and idk how I feel ab the pacing mmm but I like this one I think yes mm hmm ≧◡≦

hanni lets hyein drag her to the girls' basketball practice, the underclassman chattering excitedly about new girl who had made the team the same day she transferred. despite acting annoyed, hanni is intrigued. according to hyein, the new girl not only makes 9 out of 10 three-pointers, but is also stunning.

“even haerin thinks she’s really pretty, and she never admits things like that, hanni.”

“wow, she must be a hot shot then,” the older girl responds sarcastically, making hyein roll her eyes.

“shut up, don’t come drooling to me when you finally meet her and she becomes the girl you’re fixated on for at least the next month.”

“okay, okay, i get it. this new girl is something special or whatever.” hanni continues to be dragged towards the basketball courts, hyein steering her away from where the guys practice and toward the bleachers in front of where the girls are. “is their practice even over?”

“haerin said they end at five, that’s in five minutes. we’re right on time!”

“i can’t believe i let a child drag me back to school after hours.”

“you were already staying after! you literally have to plan half the events, fundraisers, and whatever else you do… you were literally in mr. ahn’s class with minji and dani.”

hyein got hanni there, making hanni scoff jokingly. the younger girl sits down in the bleachers' second row, watching all the girls finish running up and down the court. once they finish, a few sit down tiredly, sweat making their faces glow in the light that seeps through the windows.

hanni already knows half the basketball team thanks to haerin, so it shouldn’t be too hard to spot this wonder of a girl. she scans the team, her eyes skimming over the players she’s familiar with until they land on a sweaty, uncovered torso and defined abs. her eyes widen – partly from shock at how someone can be built that well, but also because the girl looks oddly familiar.

as she continues to stare, trying to place where she’s seen her before, hyein nudges her. "see what i mean? she’s something else, right? she’s in your grade, you should make a move or become friends with her."

hanni nods absently, still figuring out why the girl seems so familiar. the new girl’s face comes into view as she turns to grab a water bottle, and hanni’s jaw drops.

"it can’t be," hanni whispers, more to herself than to hyein.

hyein looks at her curiously. "you know her?"

hanni swallows hard, a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling up. "yeah, i think i do."

the younger girl grabs hanni’s wrist and starts to drag her away again, this time towards haerin, who’s talking to the familiar girl.

when hanni meets your eyes right after you glance down, both of your eyes widen at the same time, the revelation hitting the two of you just as hard. recognition floods in, bringing back memories of how you know each other.

hanni can’t believe her eyes, it’s you – l/n y/n.

–

you and hanni knew each other alright, she was the main part – one of the few people that you remembered in detail – of your childhood. if anything, she was your childhood.

both of you had known each other since second grade, which led to a strong friendship. you spent your days growing up together, laughing and playing, inseparable through the years. from recess adventures to sleepovers filled with whispered secrets and shared dreams, your whole worlds revolved around each other. you had countless inside jokes, understood each other’s moods without a word, and could communicate with just a glance. your families even joked that you were joined at the hip, and as you grew, so did the bond that seemed unbreakable.

when middle school rolled around, things got rocky – just as things always do at this age.

you and hanni still spent most of your time together, but she was a social butterfly, making so many new friends and putting herself out there to the point that it was hard to keep up.

of course, you wanted to be there for her, but your timid nature never really changed. you trailed along whenever she went out, feeling like her shadow as she laughed and joked with everyone else. hanni always made sure to check on you, reminding you that your presence mattered to her, that she appreciated you. yet, despite her kindness, it was draining. the constant effort to blend into the background while staying close to her took a toll on you, leaving you both comforted and exhausted.

you stopped tagging along because the only reason you ever did was to spend more time with her. it was strange, the feeling you had when you were with hanni or even thinking about her. you had never felt anything like it.

she would smile while with her friends, and you fought back the urge to smile back. sometimes she’d rest her hand on your arm, sending a shiver through you. when she looked you dead in the eye, you would always retreat. she did things to you that weren’t explainable. they were foreign, making you uneasy and weak in the knees to the point that it all just frustrated and confused you.

your heart yearned for her, and you knew that was dangerous. she had so many other friends and people there for her; it was almost like she was growing out of you. you felt like a thorn in her side, something she needed to pick out in order to really break out of her shell. it hurt to see her laughing, smiling, and being so touchy with her new friends when it used to be just with you. you wanted it to stay as just you being the light in her life.

the person you had known most of your life was growing into someone lovable, someone you loved more than words could explain. and what did you do? you were thirteen; what else could you do other than distance yourself and sulk? the depth of your feelings overwhelmed you, and the only way you knew how to cope was to retreat, watching from the sidelines as she blossomed without you.

you stopped tagging along, visited her house less often, and dismissed more than half her efforts to see you because every time you spent time with her, your heart ached. you saw the stars in her eyes, and it felt like you were some meteor drifting away from her, destined to lose her light.

and besides, you would soon be distant from her physically as well. it was inevitable with your dad’s new job, which promised to support you and your mom much better. the move would take you a continent away, so what was the point of getting closer? it seemed wiser to start distancing yourself now, to make ripping the bandaid off less painful.

of course, this didn’t go unnoticed. hanni grew increasingly confused as to why you were being so distant. was it something she did? were you having trouble? what was going on with you? she wanted to talk to you about it, but you always pushed her away, no matter how hard she tried. even when she managed to get you to open up just a little, it never provided a clear answer. frustrated and hurt, she began to distance herself as well, finding it hard to connect with someone who now seemed so different. she began to spend more time with her other friends, always feeling like something had been missing with each outing.

she just wanted her y/n back, but it felt like the y/n she had known had transformed into someone so foreign that she couldn’t even tell if it was really you anymore.

before she could do anything about the rift, just wanting you back again as her friend and the person who made her heart do jumps in her chest, you had to break the news to her.

hanni remembers it all so clearly, seeing you at her doorstep for the first time in at least a month without any warning before. even with everything that had happened between the two of you, she was happy that you were there in front of her.

“y/n, hi.” a small smile immediately graces her lips, she’s relieved. she looks up at you a bit, you’ve always been taller, but with all the distance and lack of time to be around you, it seemed that you had grown a bit more than she had thought. “what are you doing here?”

your expression is stone cold, with a little hint of hurt and regret. “i’m leaving tomorrow.”

“what do you mean? on vacation or something?”

“korea, hanni. my dad got a good job there, we’re moving.”

“y/n, what are you saying? it’s only for a little while, right?” her brows crinkle, she tries to read your face, praying that this is a joke. “right?”

you don’t answer.

“y/n, how long have you– when did you find this out?”

“six months ago.” you mutter bluntly. “i just, didn’t want you to be so surprised when i wouldn’t be in school.”

her voice cracks and you almost crack too. “y/n, you’re fucking lying to me right now. are you serious? and you spent those eight months talking to me three times a month max?”

for the first time, you look her in the eye, then mumble, “i’m sorry.”

“y/n, how could you just drop this on me? we have to– when will i see you again?”

“i don’t know hanni, but you’ll get over it.” hanni is shocked by the slight tone of anger in your voice. “you have all these friends and people who admire you, why do you care so much about me? just get over it.”

“you’re fucking kidding. get over you? y/n, you think i can just do that like this?” she snaps her finger to emphasize her words. you flinch. “is this why you’ve been avoiding me? because you’re jealous that i have more friends than you? you pushed me away because i had friends?”

“you’re calling me a loser?” her wording makes you scoff. “i didn’t know you could be so fucking rude.”

“that’s not what i meant y/n,” she pauses, her expression softening. “you know what i meant, i just–”

“i do know what you mean. fuck this hanni, you’ll be rid of me anyway.” you spit, then turn around. hanni walks after you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back. “what the hell do you want?”

her eyes shine from tears starting to line her eyes, she looks at you desperately. “y/n, please don’t leave.” her grip tightens. “please, i can’t lose you.”

hanni remembers watching you gulp, seeing a split second of regret, sorrow, anger, and everything in between flash across your face. “i’m sorry.”

she recalls crying for hours on end, trying to text you apologies and heartfelt messages, begging you to see her just once more. you tried desperately to ease the amount of hurt hanni would feel throughout those eight months, but it only made it worse. the more you distanced yourself, the more she felt the sting of your absence, and your efforts to protect her heart only seemed to break it further.

–

she stares at you, frozen in place. your features are the same, just matured and even more appealing. her eyes trace the curve of your nose, the shape of your eyes, and down to your lips—the lips she used to stare at for a bit too long back when you would fall asleep in her bed years ago. it's you, there’s no doubt about it. she knows you like the back of her palm even if years have passed.

you’re taller now, much taller, by at least eight or ten centimeters. you almost tower over her, your height a testament to the years you've spent playing basketball. the way your eyes narrow gives her that same feeling you had given her years prior. you still have that same intensity she always found endearing, and it washes over her in a wave of emotions.

“y/n,” she practically breathes out. “you’re– you’re here.”

your jaw tightens as you stare down at her, ignoring the sweat drop that falls off the end of your chin.

there are goosebumps forming as you stare back, realizing that after years of trying to forget the face you admired the most for so much of your life—years of convincing yourself you could live normally even when thoughts of her crossed your mind—you thought you'd be fine if you ever ran into her again. you believed you had moved on, even after the big argument and the years of forcing resentment, but that's not the case.

far from it, because hanni looks even prettier than she did back then, her features more mature yet still warm and achingly familiar. her eyes are as bright as ever, still holding that wonder and curiosity despite how poorly you treated her with your sudden news and departure.

as you meet her gaze again after all these years, you feel the world stop spinning beneath your feet. she's stunning, more beautiful than ever, and it takes your breath away.

you force yourself to stop gazing and look over to haerin, rubbing the sweat off your face and mumbling, “i have to go, my aunt expects me back.” before you pat her on the shoulder and hurry off, leaving hanni’s whole world shaken up.

haerin just nods, then looks back at the shorter girl. “what’s up with you, do you know y/n?”

“um, yeah.” hanni says simply, still watching you while you walk towards the girls locker room. you turn back to glance at her and hanni feels her heart sink. “we knew each other in middle school.”

“oh really? she used to live around here?”

hanni hums.

and she’s back now, leaving and returning with no fucking warning.

–

you spent the rest of the evening and night (really until you fell asleep) thinking of hanni. of course she still lived in town, she was never far from your aunt anyway.

moving back to where you grew up allowed thoughts of hanni and your past to resurface. the chance of running into her wasn’t too high, or low for that matter. you lived with your aunt, just a twenty-minute bus ride from your old house—the house filled with memories you had pushed down and shoved away for the sake of your sanity.

the whole reason you moved back was because the schools here were better, and you genuinely preferred your hometown to the overwhelming city. the academic life here was better, less overwhelming, and all your favorite spots—restaurants, cafes, parks, and other places you’d wander off to back then—were conveniently located here. what made it even better was that your favorite basketball court was just a short five-minute walk from your new home, perfect for cooling down and improving your skills during practice.

you had thought moving here would be great, even if you ran into hanni, because you believed you had moved on from her. it stung a bit more now that you actually had ran into her, but at least you didn’t share any classes or lunches with her, and you hadn’t seen her in the hallways after a week at the new school. so what if you both attended the same place? things were still going your way.

the counselor sits you down and slides you a paper. you quirk a brow looking at it.

“what’s this?”

“miss l/n, i’m afraid they’ve messed up transferring the credits you had in korea, so we had to rearrange your classes and drop your courses for others. i apologize for the trouble, but it’s for the sole purpose of graduating.” she explains, then points to your paper. “if it makes you feel better, these classes are much easier than the ones you had previously. it’s all going to work out in the end.”

you huff as you review each change. now, you have two free periods, which is a definite plus compared to your packed schedule before. the order of your classes has completely shuffled, except for two classes—thankfully, at least those will be easy to find. on top of that, your homeroom has changed, which you don't mind at all, especially since the previous teacher had greeted you with the nastiest glare upon your arrival.

there’s nothing you can do to change it anyway, you’re just trying to graduate and get direct admission into the university downtown at the end of it all. if your schedule is changed in order for that to happen, then so be it.

“thank you.”

“the classes that changed are all upstairs, so the constants are still down on the first floor. your lunches have changed too, but you can sort that out easily with the teachers. i hope it’s not too much for you.”

you wave your hands in the air. “it’s fine, really. i’ll just get going then, thank you.”

–

it is everything but fine.

the bell had already rung, the halls were empty for the most part, and had just made your way upstairs. you find room 242 after searching for at least two minutes, your base physics class got dropped so now you’re taking advanced honors environmental sciences, unfortunately.

after knocking twice on the door, it’s opened by a middle-aged man around two centimeters taller than you. he greets you warmly, “ah, you must be the transfer? miss l/n, is that right?”

“yes, that’s me. y/n l/n.”

“great, come on in. we’ve just started, but i can help fill you in.”

“thanks.”

you walk in and clutch the strap of your bag with one hand. every head turns to face you, each classmate clearly intrigued by the newcomer—by you.

“ah, right. i’m mr. wei, why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?”

“oh, um.” you clear your throat, looking down at some random desk as you begin, “my name is y/n l/n, it’s nice to meet you all.”

looking up, you meet someones eyes in the second row, and of course it’s no one other than hanni pham, her eyes widened slightly. her brows furrow just barely at the sight of you and it makes you bite down on your teeth.

“alright, you take that empty seat by the window next to minji. could you raise your hand minji?”

a girl with dark hair raises her hand, seated directly behind hanni. your shoulders sink slightly, but you push down any feelings and walk over to take the seat. thankfully, there isn’t much commotion. sure, you’re new and everyone’s curious about you, but it’s just a tuesday morning and everyone has other concerns. and you? you have to focus on sitting behind her.

you set your bag down and sit next to minji, offering her a small smile before turning your attention to the board.

hanni fights the urge to glance back at you. she considers asking minji for a pen as an excuse, but hanni always has her own writing supplies and minji would likely brush off her request, making her feel foolish in front of you. she sighs softly, forcing her gaze to stay fixed on the front of the room, struggling to pay attention despite you sitting right behind her.

“did they mess up your schedule?” minji asks you quietly as mr. wei starts his lesson. “they do that with a lot of new kids.”

“oh, yeah. i wanted direct admission to the uni, ador has a lot of good programs for what i want to pursue so…”

“ohhhh,” minji nods, then picks up her pen. “yeah, a lot of the advanced honors kids are doing that, everyone here is actually.”

that means hanni falls into that. “oh, really?”

“well, most.” minji shrugs. “anyway, before he starts actually teaching; i’m minji, nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you too.”

she smiles and slides her notebook. “we’ve had a few lessons prior, so if you need notes or anything just snap a picture.”

“thanks, i appreciate it.”

“it’s nothing, you’ll get the hang of it.”

hanni hears the whole exchange happening behind her, and she desperately wants to join in. there's nothing she wants more than to talk to you again, maybe even steal a glance at you for a little longer. it's been so long, and there are so many unanswered questions. hanni can't even tell if you're real or just a figment of her imagination. the longing to reconnect is almost overwhelming, but she hesitates, unsure of how you would react after all this time – unsure of how she’ll be talking to you again.

–

it turns out that hanni is in every single class that has changed, so ⅔’s of your classes. it was surely something to see her face everytime you had to introduce yourself to everyone in every class. however, minji and a few girls from your team had also been in each class, so it was good to know that you weren’t fully singled out.

minji makes an attempt to invite you over to sit with her at lunch, but once you see hanni at her table, you quickly make up an excuse.

“oh sorry, the girls on the basketball team wanted to talk to me more about um, our plays…” you poke your tongue at your cheek. “but maybe another time?”

“oh that’s chill, don’t worry about it! another time is great, i’ll see you back at class then!”

you force a smile, aware of hanni's gaze following you as you walk over to where haerin, yunjin, and rei sit.

minji settles down in front of hanni, waiting for hyein and danielle to join as she pulls out her lunchbox. taking a bite of her chicken and rice, minji glances over at you before turning back to hanni. "the new girl seems pretty nice, huh?"

"i guess," hanni mumbles, chin resting on her palm with her lower lip slightly protruding.

of course, you end up in every class with hanni, and naturally, you sit next to her best friend in each one. despite the circumstances, you find yourself avoiding her just like before. it’s frustrating.

“you got something against her?” minji jokes, not expecting hanni to let out a big sigh.

“i don’t know.” she starts, watching you smile at haerin. “we knew each other in middle school, but she can barely look at me.”

minji stops chewing. “really?”

"yeah, you can still talk and be friends with her!" she catches herself and raises her hands in defense. "i think she's great, i mean, we just... drifted apart."

"aw, it happens though. you sure i can talk to her though? like, certain?"

"yeah, it's no big deal, really." hanni resents you for making her cry for four hours straight that day, but deep down, she knows you're a sweetheart. she could never hate you, and she wouldn’t do anything to prevent you from simply having a social life. "it's nothing."

"alright, whatever you say," minji says, then pulls out another bag from her backpack. "yo, i brought some bread from the bakery."

hanni's pondering is interrupted, and her eyes light up when minji holds out the small paper bag with her favorite milk bun inside. she eagerly grabs it and smiles with her teeth, causing minji to snicker and roll her eyes.

you catch the whole thing in the corner of your eye, absentmindedly smiling.

–

“niiice one y/n!” your coach claps his hands after you land a half-court shot with ease. “alright, that’s it for the day! back and forth across the court ten times and you’re free to go. good job everyone, make sure to rest up for the game tomorrow! be here by 4:30, got it girls?”

“yes coach!” the team says in unison.

you run a hand through your slightly damp hair before deeply inhaling. yunjin finds you and you smile tiredly at her, the two of you meet at one end of the court and start to run. by the time you’re done, you’re chuckling at how tired yunjin is as you recover.

“the hell are you laughing at?” she says in between breaths, “you’re no better than i am right now.”

she’s right, you’re both drained and beat from practice, but it really makes everything funnier than it is in the moment.

you’ve settled in well after nearly a month, getting closer with the basketball team and even branching out to meet their friends (all thanks to yunjin, who had a bit of a reputation and popularity, and an additional soft spot for you). you weren’t popular like yunjin or anything of that sort, but you were content with where you were.

minji had also started talking to you more, and the two of you had gotten pretty close, even hanging out after school before your practices. she occasionally caught you at her parents' bakery too, often mingling with you while you had a pastry in your mouth. though minji was still a bit confused about the tension between you and her best friend hanni, it didn’t trouble her too much. you kept to yourself, and really, you were a very calm, sweet person.

the next day, minji catches you in between classes. you’re grabbing something from your locker when you feel a tap on your shoulder, turning around to see her.

“game day?”

“oh, yeah.” you answer as you shuffle through your bag. “you coming?”

“i was going to go with my group.” minji’s group consisting of hanni, you take note of that. “haerin never really says anything about the games, but we love to support her. hyein also wants to watch you play.”

you giggle and close the locker door. “the underclassman?”

“yeah. don’t tell her i told you but she’s kind of a fangirl.”

“of me?”

“yeah, she thinks you’re sick.”

another laugh leaves your lips, now you’re walking over to class with minji. “well, i’m not against making another friend.”

“pftt, she’s something though.” minji jokes. “how about two friends?”

“two?”

“i think you and hanni would be good friends, you know?” you almost freeze on the spot. “she told me you guys drifted in middle school, maybe you guys can mingle again, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

your whole body tenses as you walk through the classroom door. you spot hanni sitting next to yunjin, her eyes meeting yours the moment you enter. you quickly look back at minji, shrugging and trying your best to play off your hesitation.

"doesn't sound bad at all, why not?" you say, forcing a casual tone into your voice.

little did you know, minji had something up her sleeve. while you set your bag down and pull out your history notes, she walks over to hanni. minji looks at hanni intensely, then glances at you. ever since she heard about the vague fallout between you and hanni, she had been itching to know more—and possibly rekindle the old spark. it wasn't like anything bad had happened between you two (she assumes); people grow apart, but they can also find their way back to each other.

you glance at hanni before class starts, not expecting her to already be looking at you. as soon as you two make eye contact, hanni turns away, picking up her pencil.

–

minji manages to convince—more like drag—hanni out of her house and into her car. haerin has a basketball game against the rival school, so hanni is basically obligated to go. to be fair, why would she complain about seeing haerin run up and down the court and smugly smile when their team scored a point? it was fun to see haerin in her zone, and hanni always enjoyed the excitement of the games.

but this time it was different, with you in the starting lineup and being the new star on the court.

she sat on the uppermost level of the bleachers with hyein and minji beside her. hyein had linked her arm with hers, cheering on for haerin.

hanni’s eyes are glued to you most of the time. it’s not her fault you had control of the ball so often, scoring here and there. she couldn’t keep her eyes off you even when you weren’t actively playing; you could be watching the ball or assessing the situation while your teammates defended, and hanni would still be looking at you. while you had been on the sidelines temporarily, she noticed how the sweat made your skin glisten, and hanni wondered what had happened over the four years for you to develop such toned arms and athletic shoulders. you looked strong and confident, a far cry from who she remembered.

“hanni, you know the ball is on the other side of the court, right?” hyein nudges the older girl, then looks in the direction that hanni is looking. “seems like someone caught your eye.”

hanni shoves hyein over. “stop that.” she scoffs. you take your eyes away from yunjin after she scores, then your eyes meet hanni’s, and hanni pauses in place momentarily before looking over to yunjin.

you narrow your eyes at her, biting the inside of your lip.

–

the phone in your pocket rings, you fish it out to see minji’s contact name on your screen.

“hey?”

“where are you?”

“oh, locker room.”

“meet me at the front of the school after! i have a cookie and friends.”

you laugh before answering, “right, thanks minji. give me five.”

after rinsing your face with some cold water and dabbing off the sweat on your neck, you strip out of your jersey and throw a hoodie over. yunjin slaps you on the back on the way out and you wince, shooting her a glare – which only makes her laugh more.

you walk out the entrance and look around for your friend, eyes lighting up when you see her with her own respective group. haerin is already tehre, when she spots you she waves. when hanni sees you though, she looks hesitant.

“hi.” you greet. “did you guys enjoy the game?”

“you won! how could we not?” an unfamiliar girl says. the girl looks younger, but she’s taller than the rest of the bunch. “i’m hyein by the way!”

“ohh hyein, minji mentioned you.” you giggle before adding, “didn’t know you’d be towering her.”

the bunch laughs – hanni smiles at the remark – and so do you.

“anyway, i’d love to stay and talk but i need to be home soon.”

danielle tilts her head and asks, “where are your keys?”

“oh, i’m walking.”

“dude,” minji says in disbelief. “after running up and down the court that much? no way man. i can give you a ride.”

waving your hands in the air frantically, you assure, “no, no. it’s fine, i mean, more cardio for me.”

“you’re getting in my car bro.”

and now you find yourself in minji’s car after she convinced hyein—the only person close to her height—to drag you along. you couldn’t argue with hyein; she’s young, and the little pout she gave you was enough to make you relent.

that’s how you end up in the backseat with hanni.

hyein called shotgun, and you weren’t going to argue, especially since minji dropping you off was a last-minute decision. but if you had known you’d be bundled up with hanni alone in the backseat (danielle decided to tag along with haerin, avoiding the tension), you would’ve found a way to avoid this whole situation. to make matters worse, some random, very heavy box was taking up a seat, leaving you and hanni with no space in between. just your luck.

the youngest grabs minji’s phone and plays some random pop song, eagerly humming along.

“yo, type in your address.” minji tilts down the mirror above and looks at you through it, raising a brow. hyein hands you the phone and you manage to brush arms with hanni as you reach over.

hyein turns up the volume after you hand her the phone back. your place is less than ten minutes away, but it feels ten minutes too long.

you try your best to cope with the tension in the air, and hanni does too. she’s angled toward the window—away from you—and you’re sitting in the middle seat, trying to focus on the road. minji turns a little too aggressively at one point, causing you to lean against hanni, making you both blush equally.

“sorry,” you mumble.

“it’s fine,” hanni replies, her voice still as sweet as you remember. it's still as soft and reassuring when she quietly adds, “minji’s not the best at driving sometimes.”

as soon as she says that, minji’s back to driving straight ahead. you can’t help but laugh softly, unable to fight it. “it’s not too bad,” you say, feeling a little of the tension ease with the shared moment of humor.

neither of you share anything else after that, the silence squeezing you two.

when minji reaches your place and parks in front of it, hanni has to get out so you can. as you step out, you make eye contact with her, and something electric runs up your spine. you watch her climb back into the car, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she settles back into her seat.

minji rolls down the drivers side window. “oh yeah, here’s your cookie.” she says, “see you next week! enjoy your weekend!”

“you too!” you respond, then peek at hyein. “nice meeting you hyeinie, can’t wait to see you around.”

her mouth opens before she smiles at you, teeth and all. “yeah, me too!”

even hanni rolls down her window, catching you by surprise. your eyes widen just a little when you see her looking at you, smiling.

“good game y/n, you’re really good.”

you inhale, then breathe out your response, “thanks.” and purse your lips into a smile.

minji waves once more before driving away, and you head inside. no one is home yet, so you quickly drop your bag off in your room, head to the bathroom to clean yourself up after being sweaty for over two hours, and finally flop onto your bed once everything is done. the encounter with hanni replays in your mind, the tension and awkwardness still lingering as you try to relax and unwind.

hanni lingers in your mind, she’s always been in the back of it anyway.

you don't know if it's even possible to become friends with her again. it's what you really want, but can you even achieve that? you're avoiding her left and right, failing to hold eye contact or maintain a conversation with her for more than three seconds. yet, the fact that she had initiated the interaction this time, even adding something lighthearted in the car, sparks something within you. every small moment between you two, however insignificant it seems, ignites a huge feeling inside of you. it’s a confusing mix of hope and fear, leaving you wondering if there's a chance to mend what was broken. it’s all your fault anyway -- basically.

–

“alright everyone, please settle down.” mr. wei says. he claps his hands and looks as happy as ever. “i have an important announcement! so as you know, we a big project this year. i’m going to introduce it today and give you a small rundown. oh! and by the way, this project is worth half your grade.”

as you sigh, you catch hanni in the corner of your eye, putting her head down in defeat and muttering a small “fuck.” in response to the news.

“i’m going to give you all the rubric and your assigned partners.”

“what?” jake groans, “c’mon, why can’t we choose? what if my partner doesn’t do shit?”

“that’s something coming from you mr. sim.” sim jaehyun has a known record for paying people to do his work, plus, he’s not the brightest. the only thing he’s known for is being nice on the eyes and a great point guard. “i’m assigning the partners because you all are graduating this year. in the future, most of the time you won’t have a choice. got it?”

the class falls silent, you close your eyes and sigh again.

just get it over with.

“now, you’ll be given time to discuss various topics regarding environmental science. our main concern is human impacts on our environment, got it? please discuss positive and negative impacts that you can analyze and present to the class, alright! there’s a special part of this project that i know you will all look forward to, so please keep this in the back of your mind for the next month.”

minji nudges you and you hum. she leans closer to you, eyes still on the board, then mumbles, “i really hope i don’t get jake.”

“same. with districts coming up i’d rather die than have him as my partner. his brain isn’t working unless it’s basketball that’s mentioned, he’ll yap my ear off.”

your seatmate chuckles and looks at jake, then back at you. “and you’re not any better?”

“basketball is just a hobby, this chemistry grade is worth more my time and effort, don’t be ridiculous.”

she rolls her eyes and refocuses her attention on mr. wei, who has finally found the paper listing each pair. anxiety churns in your stomach as you wait for him to read the names. you really hope you're not paired with jake—or any of his friends. the thought of working with them sounds worse than nails scratching a chalkboard.

“right, jaehyun, since you’re so eager to know who you’re with, let’s start with you.” mr. wei looks up from the paper, narrowing his eyes at the cocky guy. “you’ll be paired with soobin.”

you catch danielle and hanni in front of you locking eyes, fighting back snickers. the two cover their mouths with their hands and exchange a knowing conversation through countless gestures, shoves, and widening of eyes. their silent communication is filled with amusement, and you don’t know enough about soobin to understand what they’re so entertained by.

“right, minji and danielle.” he adds, you hear a relieved sigh from minji as soon as he says it. danielle turns around and smiles brightly, grabbing minji’s hands and shaking them excitedly.

“yunjin and kazuha… minjeong and jimin… anton and sungchan…”

he goes down the list, pausing to put on his reading glasses to read the last few pairs, until he gets to the final one.

“and finally, hanni and y/n.”

you freeze, your breath catching in your throat as mr. wei sets the paper down. of course this would happen; you managed to transfer to the same school as hanni and now you're partnered with her on the biggest project of the year.

hanni turns her head to look at you, her expression unreadable. you lock eyes for a moment, the awkwardness hanging thick in the air, before you shift your gaze out the window, your palm pressing against your cheek as you rest your head on it.

mr. wei claps his hands and smiles brightly. “right! so,” he begins, looking around the room. most of the class seems content with their pairings, some look like the world has just ended, and others are simply dealing with it —you fall into this last group. “as you can tell, you’ve all been partnered with someone of the same gender. this isn’t an accident, you’ll find out eventually. our school has partnered with a research facility and set up a little trip in the spring—in a few months—in order to contribute to these studies and potentially find solutions to current environmental problems. i’d like you all to keep in contact with your partners and brainstorm until next tuesday. please come back to me with a valid research topic. now, let’s start our lesson, shall we?”

hanni can’t lie; she’s thrilled to be put in this nerve-racking situation. sure, she’s a little very terrified of you, considering your whole demeanor and the past you share, but she’s been wanting to at least have something normal again, maybe make the tension lighter. there’s still a part of her that resents you, but you were both fourteen then—things have changed.

(for the better, hanni hopes.)

–

you feel a tap on your shoulder as you walk down the hallway. your mind is blank until you take your earbuds out, and then you turn around, tilt your head down, and meet hanni.

“hi.”

“hey.”

the two of you stand there awkwardly, she scratches her pointer finger with her thumb (just like how she did when you two were younger, it seems her habits weren’t grown out of), then hands you her phone.

(“youll scratch your skin off,” you quickly pull her hand towards you, slapping it lightly. “stop that”

“hey! i’m nervous…”

“you’ll be fine hanni.” you assure her, putting your hands on her shoulders. “i know you’ll be, trust me.” she feels your hands cup both cheeks, squishing them subtly.

you’re both twelve, hanni has a microphone in one hand, and her other is restrained by yours. the two of you had practiced for two weeks to prepare for this moment. almost every day, you spent an hour or two in hanni’s room, which was littered with posters of her favorite bands and paintings you had made for her. you would strum your guitar while hanni sang with that pretty voice of hers, the two of you lost in the melody of 'baby I'm yours' by the artic monkeys without a worry about the talent show coming up

but hanni is worrying now, more than you somehow and she’s always been so out there.

your thumbs graze her skin and you look at her with a strange softness in her eyes. hanni still doesn’t know if it was because she was nervous, but in that moment, she felt her cheeks burning.

“your voice is so pretty and you’re pretty and amazing and i know everyone in the crowd would love it and love you! i could listen to you all day hanni, when they hear you they’ll be so amazed.”

“what if i mess up? what if i ruin it for the both of us and-”

you pinch her cheeks and shake your head. “stop. hanni pham i know you, you’ll do great. if you mess up, i’ll mess up with you, alright?”

she purses her lips together, nervousness evident in her eyes. you smile reassuringly at her, and her tension eases as she sees your grin turn toothy. the warmth in your expression gives her the confidence she needs.

“ugh, fine! let’s get it over with… my mom said she’ll drive us to get ice cream after anyway…”

“okay! c’mon, everyone is waiting for hanni pham and her guitarist.”

“you mean my lovely y/n?” twelve year old you didn’t know why that made you so giddy. you rolled your eyes at her and held her hand on the way to the stage.

the memory replays vividly in your mind. everyone's expressions were etched with amazement after hearing hanni sing the first line of the song you two practiced, their smiles widening as hanni dragged you up to sing along with her. this simple act unlocks a core memory: the two of you going home with a special trophy and celebrating with ice cream.

for some reason, you also remember the innocent little kiss on the cheek she gave you before you were dropped off too.)

you’re shaken out of thought after hanni begins again, “i just thought that, um, since we’re partners… you know– we should keep contact.” she swallows lightly before asking, “could i get your number?”

“oh, yeah.” hanni watches you silently type your number in, then send a text to yourself. the buzz (heard only because of how dead silent it is in the hall) is faint, but indicates that you haven’t faked her out. “i’ll text you later, i have practice soon.”

“oh yeah, practice, yeah. basketball.” you force yourself not to smile as she responds. “yes, you have fun with that, sorry, yeah. i’ll text you? i can look over some stuff and you can branch off.”

“that sounds good, my practice ends at four today, in case you needed to know.”

“yeah, okay, yup.” she says, “i’ll get going, sorry.”

“don’t be,” you assure. she watches you open your mouth, hesitate, then add quietly, “ever.”

—

[xxx xxx xx09] 4:30pm hi! this is hanni are you free tomorrow? i searched up some topics but wanted to go over it with you if you don’t mind of course!

[y/n] 5:02pm sorry, i stayed after to help clean and practice i can meet you after practice? i should be completely done no later than four

[hanni] 5:03pm that’s fine!

hanni cringes as she hits send. she thinks to herself: too much energy?

[hanni] 5:03pm minji’s bakery isn’t too far, it has good ambience and wifi is that okay?

[y/n] 5:28pm that’s fine

[hanni] 5:28pm great! see you then

embarrassingly enough, hanni continues to check her phone for a response, but each time she gets the same thing: nothing. it isn’t until three hours pass that she finally sees you’ve left her on read.

she huffs.

she feels stupid, considering you left her in the dust, then came back with no warning, and yet, all of that doesn’t sting as much as getting left on read. it’s silly, hanni thinks, but you couldn’t have sent something back? or at least reacted to her message? she groans in frustration and tries to focus on reviewing her chemistry notes, but thoughts of you keep interrupting her concentration.

–

you find hanni seated near the window, her back facing you, and you spot a latte beside her laptop. the kim's bakery isn’t too busy right now, thankfully, so it’s not a hassle or long wait to buy a small americano before you meet up with her.

hanni’s head perks up cutely when you sit down in front of her.

“oh, you’re here. you should’ve texted me.”

“sorry.” you begin to unpack your bags. “i got lost in thought on the way.” you don’t mention what you had been thinking of exactly, because that will only strengthen the elephant in the room.

“right, yeah, okay.” another moment of silence passes before hanni lights up. “ah! the ideas, yeah, hold on. i shared a doc with you, i hope you got it.”

“i was looking at it on the way here.”

“mhm, so what do you think?”

“i think a lot of them are pretty popular, i feel like jake and his little group will end up doing something about trash in the environment since it’s simple. i think the water quality one is good though, what about you?”

hanni nods. “i mean yeah, i was pushing the trash ones to the side. i wanted to do endangered species and really just anything regarding animals, but danielle and minji were already looking at it as soon as they had the chance. my second option was the water quality.”

“we’re on the same track, that’s good.” you sip on your coffee. “let’s research water quality then? maybe in the area for now.”

“yeah, that’s good.”

nothing else is said, nothing else needs to be said before you two get to work. there’s the occasional glance when one doesn’t think the other is looking, the small sips of coffee, and all of it is so distracting – each breath, unspoken words, really just whatever hangs in between the two of you. she lets you press a key one more time before breathing in.

“how have you been?”

you almost choke. “what?”

“how have… you been…?” her brows turn up as she clarifies.

“good.”

“that’s good.”

“yeah.”

hanni wants to pack up her bag, throw it at the window so the glass shatters, and escape the feeling that overwhelms her. “how was korea?”

you poke the inside of your bottom lip. “exhausting… i missed it here.”

“yeah, it’s great here.”

“yeah.”

“what about you?” you ask, and for some reason, you don’t really want to know the answer. you’re unsure if your heart can take it.

“me?” she tilts her head, then coughs. “oh, yeah, me. um, i’ve been you know… alright.”

i’m so sorry. you want to say it, but can’t bring yourself to. there’s a grudge you’re holding, you can’t seem to loosen up and let go. plus, you don’t trust yourself not to break down.

“is student government any fun?”

“sometimes, that’s until we have to do real stuff.”

“didn’t you… sign yourself up?”

“it’s to make my record look good, i was never good at sports like you.” she sighs as she leans against her chair. “i don’t even have the height for it.”

you fail to hold back a snicker, hanni pushes out her bottom lip in response.

(“y/n it’s too high.”

“that doesn’t matter, i’m like, three centimeters taller! just steady the ball and push out your hand.”

hanni sighs, staring at you like you’re an idiot. in this memory, you're both twelve, all battered up from running around all day. somehow, you’ve convinced her to spend time with you at the school’s courts.

the hoops are short enough for primary school kids, but still too tall for hanni. you’d tease her for not catching up to the others as you grew, and she’d respond with a punch to your shoulder each time. despite your relentless teasing, she’d always spend time with you on the court because she loved you more than her other friends. honestly, there was no other friend that compared to you at the time.

you step behind her and fix her form, adjusting her hands with yours. she gets all nervous and almost elbows you, trying to cover it by yelling at you, “that tickles!” but what really tickled – or at least made her feel all weird and tingly in a similar way – was the turn in her stomach.)

“i mean, you’ve grown.”

“you’ve grown. how tall are you even?”

“i don’t know… like, more than 170? something tall.”

“don’t boast.” hanni groans.

you chuckle. “don’t be jealous?”

the bickering is the same, but bittersweet. you two laugh until it’s a little too strange to laugh, the feeling in the air shifts again, you wish it’d stay at a constant of something nearing neutral or comfortable for more than a minute.

looking out the window, you spot an elderly couple strolling past. you begin again, “it’s good to see you again.”

“is it?” hanni questions, tone laced with genuine surprise and a small hint of disbelief, some bitterness too. “it’s a surprise to see you here.”

“school life there wasn’t too nice to me.”

“oh.”

“yeah.” you take another sip of your coffee. “at least they had good coffee near the campus.”

hanni just giggles, what else can she do? her smile dies down as she continues to get to work, and you look at her through your lashes before doing the same.

little do you know, minji observes the conversation from afar. she stands behind the espresso machine, watching you and hanni smile at each other and laugh occasionally. unaware of the tension, your past, or any details, she notices a strange chemistry between you two. the more minji watches, even as you both study, the more she considers that you might look better as something more than just friends.

maybe that’s why you two had been so timid and distant, minji predicts that it’s a mutual attraction that has you two nervous to talk to each other.

minji conjures up little scenarios and possibilities in her head. maybe you had seen hanni for the first time and been so starstruck by her; after all, many people have fallen for her sweet and outgoing nature, not to mention she’s prettier than most. or perhaps hanni had been in awe after seeing you on the court, and minji couldn’t deny that you were easy on the eyes (even minji caught herself looking at you sometimes, but out of admiration). plus, you had a mysterious quality at times—a trait that a lot of people find alluring. both you and hanni have people turning heads, so it wouldn’t be impossible.

hyein would love the sound of this. one corner of her lips turn up as she thinks about the underclassman.

maybe it was love at first (after a long time) sight, or maybe you had a meet-ugly? the possibilities swirl in minji’s mind as she observes the interactions between you and hanni, wondering about the nature of your relationship and what could potentially blossom between you two.

she shakes her head, hiding behind the espresso machine again when she notices you packing up. you send hanni a sweet smile and start to walk in minji’s direction. the older girl pretends to be busy cleaning something up, and thankfully, you don’t notice her presence as you leave.

[senior citizens and the caretaker]

[minji] hanni

[hanni] ??? i can see you from where i’m at

[minji] you were with y/n? surprising

[hanni] we started researching topics we literally?? are in the same class?? w the same project?? and r partners??

[minji] right… and giggling and laughing and… yk

[hanni] are you crazy u r so delusional

[hyein] hanni and y/n??? proof or it didn’t happen

[minji] attachment: 1 image

hanni’s eyes widen when she sees a picture of her and you (zoomed in and botched quaility) smiling at each other. the shorter girl walks over to where minji is immediately, pointing to her screen and confusingly (angrily) asking,

“the hell is this?”

“that’s what im trying to figure out.”

“bro, you’re so weird.” hanni sighs, then looks at the picture again. you have a cute smile – she tries not to think of that too much. “what the hell would y/n think if she sees this?”

“we’re friends too, you know?”

“yeah but–” her phone buzzes in her hand, cutting her off.

[haerin] study date?

[hanni] ABSOLUTELYnot. stop DONT ENCOURAGE HER?? kim minji lock your doors.

[danielle] oh wow, she has a pretty smile!

i know. hanni wants to agree, but minji wouldn’t let it go.

[hanni] you guys r so weird omfg anyway, how is your project going?

[hyein] dont change the topic hanni… wuuaahh im so jealous…

[hanni] girl shut up you're like twelve and don’t be

[hyein] you said you already knew her before? what happened

[hanni] it’s not important gtg

minji looks up from her phone. “and where are you going?”

“home,” hanni mutters, making the older smirk. “away from you at least, and i have to redo my notes for mr. ahn."

“right.”

“i hope your bread molds.” hanni says on the way out, closing the door. seconds later she opens it again, peeking her head through. “i was kidding, by the way. bring me the sweet milk bread tomorrow? thanks love you!”

the older girl rolls her eyes and laughs, going back to her phone to stare at the picture.

minji has nothing better to do, so maybe pushing you two closer wouldn’t be too bad.

–

you’re so close to dozing off in history, head almost falling off your palm. the class being a requirement is so pointless in your opinion, considering you go over slideshows, take a test, and write a few short responses. rinse and repeat for the whole year – is it really that significant?

with your upcoming game clouding your mind, plus the draining practices, it only makes you drowsier. your eyes feel heavy, your blinking gets slower, and you’re just so done with the class in general.

minji leans her shoulder against you, nudging you awake.

“h-huh…” you mumble sleepily, making the older laugh. “what?” she nudges you again, making you groan. “man what the fuck do you want?”

“you and hanni.” she raises her brows, unfazed by the anger in your tone. “how’s the project coming along?”

“oh,” you rub your eyes. “we’ve got some good ideas. i think we’re meeting again later.”

“do you like being around her?” you face minji and now she’s looking at you weirdly. “i saw you guys getting along.”

“did you? were you spying on us?” you ask teasingly, nudging her back. “weirdo… but i mean yeah shes… chill.”

“you guys look good together.”

the way it sounds coming from minji makes you freeze. “what?” you croaked, the response coming out dry and scratchy. you dismiss her with your hand and try to conceal the weird warmth in your cheeks. “what even… where did that even come from.”

“i was taking some orders and saw you two, looks like you both enjoyed each others company.”

“fucking spy…”

yeah, enjoyed running around the big problem you two had in between, that’s for sure. minji’s just oblivious, she hadn’t even heard the conversation or anything, so it shouldn’t get to you. but still, it does. hanni’s pretty, like out-of-this-world-flowers-and-sunlight pretty, and you’ve never really looked at yourself so highly. hanni’s always been out of your league since you first felt tingly around her at the ripe age of ten, it’s really a miracle that she even considered befriending you prior to that.

you set your head on your folded arms and close your eyes. “she’s nice, maybe we’ll be good friends or something. don’t get it mixed up.”

–

hanni watches intently, her eyes glued to how you handle the ball. you dribble past two of your teammates with ease, your movements fluid and precise. for a fleeting moment, your features light up with hope as you take the shot, but they quickly shift into frustration when the ball misses the hoop. she notices you bite the inside of your cheek, a sign of your evident irritation, as you curse softly at yourself.

“take your time y/n, don’t rush.” the coach suggests, you look at him for a split second, your features don’t shift a bit. he claps his hands, then nods. “right, practice over, you know the drill.”

hanni senses disappointment from your expression. she notices the way your jaw tightens, how your fingers ball into a tight fist before you crack them one by one – like how you did years ago. you stare at the ground for at least five seconds, lost in thought, before heading over to yunjin to run with her. as you start moving, the tension in your posture seems to wash away.

she waits until you finish, stealing glances at you from the bleachers. her eyes frequently drift away from her laptop to admire you. hanni has no clue what happened while you were away, but it’s frustrating that you manage to catch her eye so easily. your mannerisms are effortlessly attractive, your poise commanding, and everything about you seems to draw her in.

when you’re finished and headed back to change, she waits outside the gym for you. in a few minutes, you’re met with her, but with stress apparent in your expression.

“y/n, hey.”

“what do you want?” hanni is taken aback by the slight aggression. you cough, biting down on your teeth and retrying. “i– i mean, hi, hey. what’s up?”

“oh, i just worked on the project a bit more, you know, since mr. wei gave us more information i got us a head start. everything is on the doc, yeah.”

“did you stay after to tell me this? you could’ve gone home.”

“i had to do things for student gov, i only waited a few minutes for you, it’s nothing. i watched the end of your practice.”

“you what?” you look offended, almost. turning to the side, you poke the inside of your cheek, then look back at her. “why the hell did you waste your time doing that?”

“hey i– i just, i don’t know? why are you so angry?”

you have no clue why. maybe it’s the lack of sleep and sore feeling in every muscle in your body. you’ve been so tense the past week because of districts, and plus, your performance has been worse. the fact that hanni had seen you perform so poorly makes your blood boil a bit, but you shouldn't be mad. still, you are. shaking your head, you grip your bag tighter, knuckles whitening with the tension. the frustration of your last missed shot and fumbled passes throughout the last few practices sits heavy on your shoulders, mingling with your high standards and (self-imposed) pressure to excel.

hanni’s presence, witnessing your every mistake, feels like salt in a wound, intensifying your disappointment and how pissed you are in the moment.

she looks at you, narrowing her eyes. “are you okay?”

“it’s nothing.”

“don’t lie in my face,” her tone almost makes you flinch. she steps closer. “what’s going on?”

“hanni, it’s nothing. don’t worry, it’s not your problem so don’t try to make it yours.” you say through gritted teeth.

(you open the door to see hanni, tilting your head when you do. she’s standing there with a frown, looking at you with worry.

“what’s going on?”

“why are you here?”

“you haven’t texted in the past week, and you’ve been avoiding me.”

“it’s nothing.”

“don’t lie to me, we’ve known each other since first grade.”

“why do you even care? just let me be.”

hanni’s noticed your distance, and she’s tried so hard to pry, but you’ve always been able to dodge her like a bullet. you barely have a smile on your face these days. after school, instead of hanging out with her friend group or even with her alone, you’re always at the court or cooped up studying at home. it frustrates her because she knows you don’t even need to study; eighth grade material is a breeze for you.

the distance is palpable, a barrier she can’t seem to break through no matter how hard she tries. she misses the easy laughter, the way you used to light up around her, your stupid jokes; she misses you. now, it’s like you’ve built an invisible wall, and she can’t find a way to scale it.

“y/n, i miss you. please talk to me, we’ve always talked about things.”

you can’t possibly talk to her, not when you know what you feel is stupid, almost humiliating. how could you spill the fact that you’re jealous she’s spending less time with you, that she’s getting too pretty and lovely? you can't just admit that maybe being friends with her is becoming too hard. there are so many things you want to do with her, so many things you want to tell her that can’t be put into words. you can’t share that your heart beats faster whenever she’s near, or that she’s been on your mind so often lately. you just can’t.

“i can’t. look, i’m busy. i’ll see you tomorrow.”)

she scoffs, looking at you almost angrily. “we’re not fourteen anymore. stop carrying so much – you’ll explode.”

“you don’t know shit.” the words slip out, taking both you and hanni by surprise. you can’t stand to see her after saying it, so you give her a brief glance, letting her catch the regret in your features before exhaling sharply. “i– i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“y/n–” she breathes out, her voice softer now, almost pleading.

you look down as you walk away, too repentant to look back. each step feels heavier, burdened by the weight of the words you wish you could take back. you wish you could take back a lot, rewind time and restart. you’re vulnerable, some things fail to change.

–

“so, what happened? your text made me shiver.” danielle says, sitting down on the floor next to minji.

their whole friend group has grouped up at hanni’s place, specifically her bedroom because of a sudden “my house. please. quick.” text. they all gather around her, worried and curious.

hanni leans her head against her bed frame, sighing. “y/n and i kind of had an argument. well, she scolded me, that’s more like how it went down.”

“so she got mad at you? what happened? you guys aren’t even that close, so what’s this all about.”

taking a deep breathe in, hanni lets many suppressed memories fade into vision. “i told you guys i knew her before this, like years ago.” she watches her friends nod. “well, we kind of… i mean, we fell off. i don’t know the full reason why, but we had this huge thing.” she pauses her story, reaching under her bed and pulling out an old shoebox.

opening it, hanni shows the group tucked away memories. there are polaroids and childhood pictures, letters, photobooth strips, and knick knacks the two of you had crafted.

haerin gazes at the contents, then pulls out a polaroid and looks at it intensely.

“anyways,” hanni continues, “i mean, i tried to push it aside because i guess it was a while ago and it’s just an elephant in the room between just the two of us. plus, i figured we had changed and grown, but–” hanni groans defeatedly. “i don’t know! i feel like i shouldn’t let it get to me but–”

“okay but what exactly happened?” minji butts in, lost in hanni’s ramble. “details. she scolded you, you two know each other, what else?”

“where do i even start…”

hanni takes a deep breath, her eyes shimmering with the intensity of the memories she is about to share. she begins, her voice steady but laced with nostalgia. "you know, we met when we were just kids. i was new and had zero friends. she was alone too, and i asked her to join me on the monkey bars. i remember being in awe when she made it all the way across and back at the age of six. and since then we were basically inseparable."

her friends listen closely, captivated by the story. hanni’s tone becomes softer as she continues. "y/n was the sweetest person i knew. she was a special friend, you know? i mean we were only kids but i still thought of her a lot even after the whole… thing. i mean, we spent so much time together, just the two of us. i remember those niche, core memories, like when the sun would set and we’d find ourselves tanned and still at the playground. everyday i woke up excited to spend time with her, i can basically remember her being there most of my childhood."

she pauses, her eyes glazing over as she recalls the fondness of those days. "there are so many moments filled with her that defined myself growing up. i feel stupid, really, looking back on childhood memories. like, i should let go right? but every memory made me really happy, and i wonder what it would’ve been like if we had stayed strong until now. i think about it so much now that she’s back, and i thought i had gotten over it. i’m so mature now but it’s like… like a thorn i can’t take out my skin. maybe a scar that can’t heal, that’s a better metaphor.”

her expression shifts, the weight of the past evident on her face. "but then things changed. as we grew older, especially in middle school, y/n started to become distant. i branched out, made new friends, and she... she grew bitter about i i guess? what we had was so different. we were literally attached by the hip and then barely spoke.”

the emotion in hanni’s voice is palpable, her gestures and facial expressions reflecting the heaviness of her heart. she looks at her friends, all listening closely and looking hurt themselves. "we just fell apart. she changed in a way that didn’t benefit either of us. it was like she built a wall around herself, and i couldn’t knock it down.”

her friends sit in silence, absorbing the depth of the story. hanni’s explanation is more than just words; it’s a raw, emotional journey through the ups and downs of a friendship that had meant everything to her, even if it had ended at fourteen.

“and before i knew it she just left.” she adds, thumb scratching her skin. danielle puts a hand over her mouth, looking the most hurt out of the group. “she came to my house one day and said she’d fucking? leave? the day after? a continent away? it’s like she didn’t care about what we had between us.”

“oh hanni, that’s terrible.”

“i know.” hanni picks up a photobooth slip, her shoulders drooping. “i know.”

“how did you put up with her coming back?” hyein questions. hanni sets the picture down, looking down at it from where she sits, still. “as soon as i saw her it’s like everything that had happened to me washed away. i was so fucking out of it – seeing her. she’s so different, like, it caught me off guard and i just pushed aside everything.” hanni starts to blush suddenly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “this is so stupid but, i had a little stupid crush on her growing up too, and then seeing her after so long it just… it’s so stupid. she’s striking now, i can’t believe it. but she was so eager to avoid me when she first saw me so i just… let it be.”

minji hums to herself, thinking deeply on the topic. she scratches her chin as she stares at the photos on the ground. “you guys can’t avoid it forever.”

“i know.” hanni repeats. “i kind of… ugh. we got in this argument because she was being so aggressive and mean all of a sudden, i mentioned that she shouldn’t bottle up things like when she was thirteen. i guess the guilt crashed down on her, she just left. she looked really regretful, i don’t know. i just, i don’t want the tension to be worse than it already is.”

minji raises her brows at hanni. “i think you deserve an apology and explanation.”

“i agree.” danielle chimes in, crossing her arms and pouting. “she’s really nice and sweet, but hanni, hearing what she did? my gosh… that’s just…”

“she probably had her reasons though, it had to be really important for our friendship to literally fall apart. i’m considering that our past kind of has something to do with how she just went all out on me earlier.”

haerin sits quietly, deep in thought about hanni, you, and the situation. she’s always been the quiet one, so she’s really observant and caring nature. plus, she’s usually right. she’s seen hanni’s growing attention and concern for you, but she realizes the timing is off. you’re so caught up in your own head, weighed down by the pressure of districts, and it’s affecting your performance. the stress is becoming a vicious cycle, making you play worse, which only adds to your anxiety. haerin clicks her tongue softly as she pieces it all together, understanding the root of the issue.

“i don’t know why she did that to you when you guys were younger.” haerin begins. the rest of the group looks at her in surprise, but starts to listen immediately. “but i think she was so heated earlier because of districts. coach has been pushing her, she’s been more tired. i don’t think she meant it, she’s a good person.”

“oh.” hanni responds blankly, starting to piece it together.

haerin nods. “she hasn’t really been talking to anyone, and she seems tired these days.”

minji nods along too. “she almost fell asleep in history in her hand, she could just be cranky.”

“i mean maybe–” hanni pauses when her phone on the floor lights up. she glances at the contact and gasps, picking it up. “it’s her.”

“what?”

“what does it say?” hyein asks, quickling leaning against the older girl in order to see the messages.

[y/n] sorry can we meet in ten? at kims i want to clear things, if that’s okay i don’t want my project partner upset i’ll be waiting. if you don’t come i understand

hanni sighs, staring at the words on her screen like they’re going to pop out the phone and slap her in the face (or something like that). she shows the rest of the group the texts and haerin is the first to respond.

“go see her.”

“you sure? i don’t know she just–”

“hanni,” haerin looks at her seriously. “don’t make the space in between you two larger.”

the group looks at haerin, considering she’s the second youngest, it’s really impressive that her words hold so much power and weight. hanni hesitates before nodding, starting to type.

–

[hanni] where are you?

your phone buzzes in your hand immediately and you rush to check it, feeling relief wash over when you notice that it’s hanni, and especially when you realize she’s here.

[y/n] i’m not inside side of the building near the lamppost

[hanni] k

you wince at the singular letter, she’s going to rip your head off.

hanni emerges from the side, spotting you tapping your foot up and down and fidgeting with your fingers. she feels like a wet rag being slowly wrung out, her anger dissipating as she takes in your appearance. you’re wrapped in a hoodie and sweatpants, both sitting loosely on you, and your nose is tinted red from the chill of the night. she feels a pang of empathy, her frustration melting away in the face of your vulnerability.

she steps towards you, you perk your head up and sigh out in relief.

“you’re here.”

“i am.”

the two of you stare at each other for a moment, the silence heavy with unspoken words. you use the time to compose yourself, clearing your deafening thoughts. hanni, meanwhile, takes in your features, admiring silently with an unreadable expression on her face.

“i wanted to clear some things and apologize. not just for earlier but, just– you know.”

“is that so?”

“let’s take a walk, please?”

the two of you would always take walks to clear the air back then, strolling to the outskirts of the neighborhood and back so you could drop one of the other off. those late-night walks used to be calm and relieving, filled with laughter and conversations under the streetlights. now, as you stand before each other, the thought of it feels nerve-racking and unpredictable, weighed down by the tension and the distance that has grown between you.

you sigh, handing her a small bag and the drink in your hand. “i also bought you some things, it’s the least i could do.”

she takes the bag from your hand and looks inside, fighting back a smile when she notices her favorite milk bread inside. plus, the latte you had given her looks like her favorite.

“okay, where are we headed?”

“you’ll see.”

the two of you walk in silence, your rehearsed words stuck in your throat, twisting on your tongue whenever they try to escape. you don't look at her, focusing instead on the ground beneath your feet. hanni doesn't push you, occupied with taking bites and sips from what you bought her.

every now and then, she turns her head toward you. sometimes, she catches you already glancing at her, quickly looking away when your eyes meet. other times, she sees you staring intently at the ground, lost in your thoughts.

putting your hands in your pockets, you start to speak, “i’m the reason there’s a rift between us.”

“yeah, i know.”

“and there’s a reason, but it’s really… personal, kind of. i want to tell you but i really can’t.”

“is that so?”

“yeah.” you breathe out, kicking a rock as you do. “but the most i can do is apologize – for everything I can apologize about. i was so petty back then, i was jealous of your friends sometimes and there were a few times you had already made plans with them and i asked you to hang and you couldn’t and it’s so stupid and i was immature and mad at you for that and i just–”

“y/n, take it slow.”

you gulp. “okay.” she watches you stare ahead and sigh. “i was so insecure and stupid, it resulted in me losing the person i loved most. the worst part of all is that you fought to keep me in your life, and i just ripped myself off you like a leech stuck to your skin. i always cared about you, i still do, there’s nothing that could change that. i knew my actions were hurting you and instead of fixing myself, i thought i knew what was best for you at fourteen and it just… i just hurt you even more.”

“you did.”

“i know.” you look at her for the first time, meeting her eyes dead on. she notices the upturn in your brows, the sincerity in your gaze and tone. “and i’m sorry. i’m sorry for everything. i just want us to be friends again. i can’t lose you now that you’re back in my life. i just want what we had again.”

the words hang in the air, heavy with emotion. your heart races as you wait for her response, hoping she feels the same.

both of your legs continue to carry you down the sidewalk until hanni stops. you halt a step after her, noticing the contemplation on her face. she glances down at her empty bag, then back up at you. her eyes scan your face with an intensity that makes your heart race. you look like a lost puppy, and though it tugs at her heart, she tries to push those feelings aside for now.

your words had pierced her heart, the pain sharp and immediate, but there was also a sense of relief. knowing you don’t hate her makes a difference. she feels the same way; despite the hurt you’ve caused, the effort you’re making to repair your bond warms her heart.

“i do too. i wanted to talk to you again, normally, for a while now.”

“me too, but i hurt you and i felt so guilty.”

“well,” hanni reaches for your hand, holding it in hers. “let’s try our best to start over then, as friends.”

“thank you. i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, the bread and latte made up for like, thirty percent of it.”

she’s always been good at lifting the mood. you laugh and she giggles too. “if i buy you a few more, would that raise it?”

“how many more and how often are we talking?”

–

the next two weeks go well, thankfully.

you and hanni spend a significant amount of time together working on the project, each of you discovering different methods to measure water quality with limited equipment and determining the most efficient techniques. as you collaborate, you catch up on lost time, though you remain cautious about revealing too much about yourself. your time abroad had been… rough, and you prefer to keep those memories to yourself. however, it's comforting to hear about hanni's accomplishments, knowing she's built a strong reputation and has many friends that are just as wonderful as her.

often, you find yourself smiling at hanni like you used to. it's a familiar yet unsettling feeling, but you refuse to let it consume you. despite how her smile, voice, and energy make you blush and feel a pleasant dizziness, you resist falling into the same spiral from years ago. you push those feelings down, determined to stay focused on the present. you can’t let it ruin the two of you again.

besides, you've just had your first district game and it went well. the scores were tight, but you and your team pulled through, boosting your confidence. you can’t let hanni pham's charm shake you up; there's too much on your shoulders—the project, your teammates, and your relationship with her. balancing all of this feels like walking a tightrope, but you’re determined not to fall (again).

hanni, on the other hand, feels like she’s on cloud nine.

you’re still as adorable as ever, still considerate. after your study sessions and project work days, you always offer to spend time with hanni at different bakeries so she can try various breads. you jokingly mention that you’re in debt to her for a lifetime, and in a way, you are – at least until you find the right time to explain why you drifted apart in detail. for now, bread seems to suffice in keeping her from prying too deeply into your past, which feels too serious to delve into casually.

it doesn’t help that hanni has been attending your practices and games, where she takes the time to admire your athletic abilities—and, if she’s honest with herself, you as a whole. she wonders what you went through that made you come back looking even more striking than before (and hotter too, though she tries to keep herself sane).

unfortunately for hanni, her feelings aren’t as discreet as she would like. hyein and minji are quick to notice her lingering glances and teasingly nudge her about her apparent crush on you. they often bring up her past confessions about having a small crush on you back then, though she always brushes it off with a laugh.

“stop, it’s not like that. besides, she’s too busy, it wouldn’t work out.”

hyein whines, grabbing onto hanni’s shoulder. “come oooonnnnn, you want her.”

“yeah when i was like 12-13, and plus, it was so small. i was literally a child.” hanni is lying, she’d look at you like you were the northern lights (something like that), you and her were like two leads in a disney movie. “we’re friends.”

“a friend that you’ve had a crush on?” minji smirks and hanni punches her shoulder. “okay…”

“can you guys shut up! she doesn’t want me.”

“she buys you bread and drinks.”

“she just feels bad!”

“well i guess we’ll see how bad she feels when we go on that trip.”

fuck. hanni thinks. fuck.

another part of your stupid (yet interesting) project was the fact that you would be thrown into a nature reservation for three days. it was another unexpected twist in your project—being thrown into a nature reserve for three days. mr. wei had dropped the bombshell less than a week before the trip, leaving everyone bewildered. he mentioned it casually, emphasizing its importance for the project, and clarified that each pair would share a room during the stay. the suddenness of it all added an air of anticipation and nervous excitement among the students, but it left you and hanni stiff in your seats.

hanni. sharing a room. with you. (y/n). (y/n). in the same. space. as. hanni. hanni.

hanni sits with minji and hyein, trying to ignore their knowing looks as she watches you from across the lunchroom. you're smiling amidst the laughter at your table, looking at the team like they’re idiots. suddenly, you turn your head and lock eyes with hanni. there's a pause as you both acknowledge each other, and then hanni awkwardly smiles, which earns a giggle from you.

caught in that moment, hanni wonders if she can handle being trapped in a room with you if you ever end up giggling like that up close and personal. she doesn’t know if she can handle you up close and personal.

–

you, are up close and personal and hanni somehow manages.

hanni is taken aback when your head leans onto her shoulder during the train ride to the nature reserve. your breathing deepens, and you seem completely at ease, while she tries to maintain composure despite the unexpected closeness. she finds herself conflicted; on one hand, you look delicate and serene with strands of hair falling over your face, making her contemplate whether to brush them away or let them be.

the realization hits her anew that you're definitely the prettiest girl she knows, a title she's only recently come to acknowledge. unsure of how to handle the situation, hanni slips in her earbud, turning up the volume of the song playing to drown out her racing thoughts.

–

if things haven’t already made hanni at risk of having some type of heart attack, then finding the hotel room and unlocking the door to see one bed definitely makes her prone to some sort of cardiovascular catastrophe.

you feel yourself go tense, freezing in place as you realize the same thing.

“there’s one bed.”

hanni looks at you like you’re an idiot. “no shit.”

“is there a mistake?” you check the hotel room number and look at the key in your hand. “it has to be…”

“let me ask the others, you stay here.” hanni says before leaving the room. you look at her with a tilted head, but shake it off, instead opting to look out the window in awe at the view. hanni fishes out her phone and dials minji. the phone rings for a moment before minji picks up, she hums and hanni speaks again, “hey, what room are you in?”

“722, you?”

“610, stay, i’m coming over.”

“what?”

“be there soon.”

minji attempts to respond, but hanni hangs up. she makes a weird sound that has danielle looking at her confused, minji just shrugs.

a few minutes later, the pair hears a knock at the door. minji walks over, expecting hanni, and standing out her door is – hanni.

“how many beds do you have?” she asks quickly, stepping inside.

“what happened to hey? hello? how are you?”

hanni ignores her remarks, too distracted by the fact that there’s two beds in minji’s room.

“fuck me.” hanni whispers, then puts a hand in her hair, gripping it. “oh my fucking god.”

“hanni what–”

danielle steps out the bathroom after hearing the commotion. she looks at minji, who looks back at her with the same confusion in her features. “what’s the problem hanni?”

“our room only has one bed.”

minji widens her eyes. “you’re telling me you and y/n are–”

“there has to be a mistake.” hanni groans, “it can’t be.”

the shortest in the room flops onto one bed, sighing as she stares up at the ceiling. both of her friends walk over and sit beside her, amused and worried at how she’s acting.

“hey! it’s not too bad. maybe you can talk to them and ask for a room with two beds! don’t worry, it’s not the end of the world.”

minji puts a hand up, waving it to dismiss danielle. she looks back down at hanni and shakes her head. “hanni doesn’t want to.”

“why wouldn’t she?”

“hanni, you wanna tell danielle?”

the youngest raises a brow. “tell me what?”

“enough minji, it’s– it’s not– well…” hanni groans, turning over on her side. “what if things get awkward between the two of us?”

“well, that’s only if something… you know, happens. you’re thinking so far ahead.”

“what if she’s uncomfy?”

minji sighs again. “she’s not, don’t be stupid.”

“i’m still confused.” danielle says in between. “what is going on?”

minji looks down at the defeated hanni, then to danielle. “hanni is in denial about being in love with y/n.”

“i thought that was in the past.”

“well it’s back.” hanni mumbles. “what if i shrivel up and die.”

“don’t be stupid.”

“hey, haerin did mention that y/n talks about you often. from what she’s told me y/n is comfortable with you, very comfy. there’s nothing to worry about.” hanni’s phone buzzes and danielle helps her out, grabbing it out the pocket of her sweatpants for the older girl. she holds the phone up to hanni’s face smushed against the mattress, successfully unlocking it, then checks the message. “it’s from y/n.”

“it is?”

“i knew it was from her as soon as it buzzed.” danielle rolls her eyes, reading the text. “it says ‘where are you?’ ‘are you okay with one bed?’ ‘do dani and minji have one bed?’ ‘i’m fine with just one if you are’”

hanni shoots up. “what.” she leans next to dani to see the screen:

[y/n] where are you? are you okay with one bed? do dani and minji have one bed? i’m fine with just one if you are it’s not that big of a deal unless you’re uncomfy i can ask the hotel managers hello?

hanni grabs the phone and types immediately.

[hanni] hi so sorry i was with dani and minji they have two beds im fine with one if you are! only if you are of course! it’s totally fine if you aren’t though i hope that doesn’t sound weird you get what i mean? sorry

[y/n] i get it one bed then it’ll be fine, i think it’s a queen when will you be back?

minji and danielle watch hanni get off their bed and sprint out the room, then look at each other and giggle. hanni speedwalks down the hall, relying on her senses to not fuck up and make her trip or take a wrong step.

[hanni] i was omw alr soon have you unpacked?

[y/n] no i was waiting for u c u don’t trip and fall

–

“you’re so clingy.” you groan, but still, you willingly let hanni cling onto you like a koala.

the two of you are thirteen and the next day is confirmed to be a snow day, so hanni had sprinted over to your house (begged her parents to drive her over) and basically forced you into having a last minute sleepover. it’s not like you were against it though.

you and hanni had been on the couch watching a disney movie, though you had dozed off halfway through. to be fair, you had already seen rapunzel more times than you could count on one hand, and hanni always made you feel relaxed.

now, she’s in your bed, your legs tangled under the covers, and she’s half on top of you with her arms wrapped around. she hugs tighter after hearing you, giggling into your ear.

“you’re sooo warm though, i don’t want to move.” the moment she says that, something shifts. you suddenly burn, it feels like something is swallowing you whole and your stomach is doing flips and your heart is running a marathon and– “i could stay like this forever.”

“oh,” you mumble. your hand finds its way to her shoulder, deciding to settle there and occasionally your thumb traces circles on her. “okay.”

you've never been this close to hanni before, not like this. thirteen and oblivious, you're caught in a whirlwind of changing emotions. her presence next to you makes your head spin, even though you're just lying there together. it's a sensation you're not sure you like—maybe because you're afraid hanni might feel something different, steadier, while you feel like you could easily topple over. the embarrassment of that thought flushes through you, adding to the confusion of the moment.

–

both of you are stiff lying next to each other, unable to move. the only light in the room is the lamp in the corner and neither of you dare to look at the other.

hanni is on her phone, trying to do anything to ease the tension when there’s a small space in between the two of you. sure, the bed is quite spacious, but in this situation it doesn’t seem like it.

“hey, hanni?” she shivers, your voice is low and hushed. “i’m going to sleep.”

“oh, okay.”

“yeah, night.”

there’s subtle shifts of the blanket and the muffled movements, catching your back turned away from her in her peripheral vision. there's a shared intimacy in the limited space, she’s aware of your efforts not to brush against her. the pillow meant for your head is firmly cradled in your arms, a subconscious barrier. hanni notices this and half-wishes for the same kind of closeness, if she were that pillow.

fuck, she thinks. she wonders whether or not you’re still as warm as before.

–

the next day you and hanni wake up a few centimeters closer, but not enough to be touching. neither of you bask in that mutual realization, instead, focused on getting water samples for the project.

there’s not much directing or instructing. sure, there’s ground rules and whatnot since it’s a literally nature reserve, but there’s a lot of academic freedom regarding research. you and hanni have the green light to collect water samples, but that means trekking through various areas that are… questionable.

both of you start with the easier places to grab samples, such as the small pond near the hotel, the little stream further down the road, and really any place that isn’t shrouded by organisms left and right. both of you take turns getting samples, laughing at the others expression when getting into contact with the water.

“ugh.”

“it’s just water y/n.”

“you made the stupidest face when we were near the hotel and it was literally a cute little pond, do not test me.”

“whatever.”

“besides, you’re next after we go into the little woods.”

hanni curses mentally.

–

being alone together with hanni seems to be less and less suffocating with time.

however, you feel like someone is punching you in the gut each time your knuckles and arms brush against each other walking along the forest trail. hanni doesn’t seem to think much on it, but you? you’re too hyperaware it seems embarrassing.

she runs off farther from you, finding another stream and taking out a small glass bottle to grab another sample. she crouches and reaches down, you can’t help but smile. she looks stupid, she always does, but it only makes her more attractive unfortunately.

“cute.”

“what did you say?” she looks up at you, you’re standing and watching from above. all she can see is you looking away and the tint of pink in your cheeks.

“you look dumb.” you play it off, then grab your phone to snag a picture of her. “yeah, super dumb.”

–

the next sample is a breeze, seeing as it’s some pool of water stuck in a big dent in the rocks along the path.

it’s a breeze just walking and conversing time to time, almost forgetting that this is all for a project.

hanni spots a waterfall in the distance, eyes lighting up at the sight of it. she starts to run off and you yell out a measly “wait!” as she continues on. you groan and run after her, laughing along the way.

you lose her for a moment, a little scared because she’s nowhere in your line of sight. “hanni?” you call out, but she doesn’t respond.

it isn’t until you hear a loud gasp, followed by a painful yelp, that hints at where hanni is at. you follow wherever the sound came from, then climb a few plateaued rocks to find hanni on the ground clutching her ankle.

“hanni! fuck, what happened?”

she looks up at you with a pained expression, then back to her foot. “i tripped on a branch and my ankle twisted weirdly, can you help me up?”

“yeah, sure, of course.” you respond quickly, rushing over to help her up. she’s struggling to apply pressure on her left foot, basically carrying herself with the right one. “can you walk?”

she shrugs, loosening her grip on you as she tries to take a few steps. the wince she lets out after the second step lets you know that she’s in no condition to carry herself like that. “um, kind of.”

“you liar.” you sigh, “how bad does it hurt? do you think it’s sprained?”

“no, i’ve sprained my ankle. it’s not that bad.” you remember when she sprained it too, but push down the memory.

again, you sigh (really because you’re worried). you squat down and suggest, “get on my back.”

“are you crazy?”

“you just twisted your ankle and can’t even walk, are you?”

“i can find a big stick.”

“and i’ll whack you with it if you don’t get on.” hanni scoffs at your response. you look down bashfully, adding quietly, “it’s not like you haven’t piggybacked me before.”

(“we’re almost home.” you assure. hanni tightens her grip around you as you push her up, trying to stabilize yourself.

two eleven year olds and an empty playground meant chasing and chasing until one was out of breathe – or in this case, one had sprained her ankle.

you carried her over to the nearest bench when it happened, examining the growing puffiness on her foot and making a grossed out expression. hanni hit you playfully when you made the face, slightly offended but really just trying to lighten the mood.

“it doesn’t hurt that much, let’s just walk home and my parents can deal with it.”

“um… i’m no doctor but that doesn’t look right.”

“hey!”

“i didn’t mean it like that hanni! it just looks like… i don’t know, like a doctor should see it.”

“well, it’s fine to me.” hanni lets out a heavy sigh, then gets up only to topple over. she almost falls to the ground again, but you manage to catch her and stable her. she tears up when her weight shifts over to the injured ankle, and then frowns when you look at her disapprovingly.

“sit back down hanni, you hurt yourself.” you order her, then help her back to the bench. you crouch down in front of her and squat, turning so hanni can see the side of your face as you tell her, “get on my back.”

“what?”

“i’ll carry you home. you’re not heavy, and plus, you’re short.”

“you’re a bully.”

“get on!” you groan. hanni complies shortly after, wrapping her arms around your neck and feeling your hands stable her. “see? not bad at all. we’ll get home fine.”

hanni is amazed at your strength, but even more at the depth of your care for her. she feels the sweat building up on your skin, but you don’t mention it, not showing a hint of struggle. your unwavering effort almost convinces hanni that everything is alright.)

“y/n, we’re not eleven anymore. i’m not as small and light.”

you click your tongue teasingly, turning so you can see her from your peripheral. “you’re still small, and probably light too. just get on or you’ll fuck up your foot even more.”

she hesitates, but gets on anyway. you stand up easily, just like you did as kids. your hands are under her thighs in order to keep her in place, her arms warp around your neck and her head is on your shoulder. she feels you gulp agaisnt her skin.

“are you okay?” she asks, you just nod. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t, you’re never a problem.”

your response is oddly endearing, shutting hanni up the whole way back.

it’s mainly silent, except for the faint sound of hanni’s breathing reaching your ears. you can’t trust yourself to say anything coherent; your thoughts are a jumbled mess with her this close.

occasionally, she stops trying and lets her chin rest on your shoulder. each time she does, you feel like you might explode, but you never do. hanni has that effect on you; she always has. it makes sense why you strayed away years back. but despite the turmoil, the feeling is so lovely, and the butterflies in your stomach make you yearn for something more.

“we’re almost there.” your endurance is starting to die down and hanni starts to feel heavier. it’s been nearly twenty minutes (give or take), but you’ve been pushing aside the burn in your legs. “you alright?”

“yes.”

“good.”

the first mistake you make is turning to meet her eye to eye, almost slipping in the middle of the trail. she looks at you deeply, making you shrink and shrink until it’s just your beating heart.

“are you alright? you’re not tired?”

“i’m fine. we’re almost there anyway.”

“i owe you so much, sorry for being stupid.”

pursing your lips and turning away, you shake your head slightly. “you don’t owe me anything.”

–

hanni gets treated by the nurse on the reserve while you test the levels of ph in each sample. some of the water from your samples are also observed by the laboratory on the reserve, and you’re attentive to everything the scientists observe and explain.

you return to the nurse right after hanni is done with her examination, her foot is wrapped and there’s a pair of crutches next to her.

“what did the nurse say?”

“she said i’m lucky it’s a minor injury.” hanni begins, looking down at her foot. “and that i should ice it and try to move it around little by little.”

“how long will it take to heal fully?”

“something like a week or so, again, not the worst injury.”

still, you frown. “lucky we got every sample today. the rest of the project doesn’t require much walking.”

“i guess.” she mumbles. “did you get everything through? how are the samples?”

“we can worry about that tomorrow, don’t worry.” she watches you squat down in front of her, turning your head the same way you did before and smiling subtly. “crutches will slow you down, and you’re easy to carry.”

“well thanks ms. mvp.”

“blah blah you like being on my back, admit it.” you push her buttons a little, hearing a “hmph” before she gets on and wraps her arms around your neck. you hold hanni with one hand as you grab her crutches, then manage to stable her with both again.

the whole way back you’re trying not to smile too hard. your cheeks already burn and hanni stays silent as you bring yourselves up to your floor, step inside the room, and set her down on your temporary shared bed.

she watches you set the crutches down against the counter and you watch her flop on her back.

“how is your foot?”

“hurts, but less than before.”

“mhm, you should go shower. do you need help?” you pause, blushing like crazy when you realize the implications. “like, you know, to get there–”

she lets you live and says, “it’s alright, i can hop a few times and get there.”

“if i hear you fall in the shower i’m not going to get you.”

she snickers, getting back up. then looks at you fondly.

“i wont, silly.”

hanni thankfully lives up to her response, and you don't hear any commotion from inside the bathroom. when she emerges, she's in one piece and dressed in her pajamas. limping slightly, she makes her way back to the bed, sitting on the edge and moving her foot around slowly. her brows furrow a bit, but she seems relatively fine. relieved, you head into the bathroom to clean up and get ready for bed, trying to shake off the lingering worry.

–

there’s a weird tingly feeling that spreads over hanni when you walk out of the bathroom with wet hair and flushed cheeks from the hot shower. you looked like this last night, and seeing you again makes her wonder how it’d be to see you like that more often.

you walk over with the towel on your shoulders to prevent water dampening your back, and also the brace that she had left in the bathroo. hanni watches you pull a chair over and sit in front of her.

“you forgot something.”

“it feels fine right now,” you watch her shrug, looking at her foot. with an amusing expression, something mixed with “you’re an idiot” and slight worry, you poke the swollen area. “hey!” hanni winces.

“it looks like ten mosquitoes bit your foot, stupid. here, give me your foot.”

“what?”

"oh my god, just–" you mutter, grabbing her foot gently above the ankle and placing it on your knee. hanni watches as you carefully position the ankle brace, threading the end underneath before wrapping it tightly around until it reaches the velcro. your concentration is evident in your scrunched brows and pursed lips, handling her with a tenderness that makes her heart flutter.

when you're done, you poke at the brace and move hanni’s foot around, careful and slow, to check the fit. "there. how does it feel? too tight?" you ask, looking up at her with a mixture of concern and hope.

“no, not at all.” she says, shaking her head.

“try to move it.” hanni does so, feeling minimal pain. “all good?”

“yeah, better than the nurse.”

“right.”

just to make sure, you squeeze around areas of her foot to check the tightness. you look up to see her staring at you intensely, none of you break eye contact until – even as you stand, watching her head tilt up to continue looking at you.

her hair is already dry, it frames her face loosely, you can’t help but brush it out the way. hanni’s lips part subconsciously when your finger accidentally grazes her jawline, trying not to think on it much as you move away to get into bed.

both of you lie there, silent.

hanni is the first to turn towards the middle, and you follow shortly after.

the soft, plump lips catch your attention first. then, you scan all the way up to her nose until it’s just her eyes – her pupils hold you stuck in place.

“you’re so different.” hanni blurts, it’s almost a whisper. “hyein told me about a new girl and i didn’t think it’d be you. i still can’t believe you’re here.”

your body freezes as she pushes hair behind your ear, then relaxes upon hearing her voice again.

“thanks for everything.”

“it’s nothing if its you.”

“really?”

you hum almost immediately.

–

your hand is resting on hers when you wake up. you blink once, twice, and once again before hanni’s smushed cheek comes into full view. you stay still, looking at her as you yawn, trying not to disturb the peaceful moment.

she’s relaxed, her face free of worry as she slumbers. something about her makes you want to trace each and every feature until your finger is mush, until you can make out her face with your eyes covered in a sea of people. you could sit and stare for the rest of the trip.

it’s apparent that your feelings for her would always linger, no matter how close or far you are. no one could forget a face as breathtaking as hers.

–

the next day and the last are spent compiling research together. you and hanni settle into the small, homey café inside the hotel, typing away and considering each other’s suggestions, thoughts, and edits.

you manage to organize all of the data into a visually pleasing graphic by the time everything is done, while hanni handles most of the analysis and explanations on each slide. it takes a long while, but working side by side, with your arms often brushing, makes it less of a hassle.

on the final night, you're helping hanni with her ankle brace again. she enjoys this time because it allows her to stare at you without worrying about you catching her in the act. you’re too concentrated to notice her (or at least that’s what she believes), handling her with care and precision. in truth, you simply enjoy taking care of her, making sure she’s okay.

both of you end up asleep again, side by side, then facing each other.

in the middle of the night, hanni turns away from you, facing the edge of the bed. unbeknownst to you, in your sleep, you reach out, craving her presence even while unconscious. your arm drapes over her, pulling her closer. hanni stirs slightly, just barely awake, and realizes it’s you. sleepily, she turns back to face you, finding warmth and comfort in your embrace.

if there’s any questioning in the morning, hanni has a backup plan. she'll claim she didn’t realize she had been clinging onto you until she woke up and that she’s used to hugging a pillow.

(these days, she wishes that pillow were you.)

(you don’t mind being the pillow.)

–

“okay. you have everything, right?”

it’s eight in the morning and the bus leaves at nine. your bag is packed already, and so is hanni’s.

“mhm.”

“great.” you say before tucking your charger away in the front pocket of your backpack.

turning your head over, you notice hanni sitting on the edge of the bed and staring out the window. the view is perfect, you spent a lot of time looking outside when the sky was pretty, but not enough you realize – now that you’re about to go back near the city.

you walk over to sit next to her, leaving little space in between the two of you.

hanni moves her foot in a small circle, probably without knowing since she looks so focused on the view in front of her.

“does your ankle feel better?”

“yeah, because of you.” she turns her head to face you, the distance between both of you grows smaller. hanni slides herself closer. “i really liked spending time with you here.”

“me too.”

her breath hitches. “i wish we could’ve had more time outside.”

“its fine.” you hesitate before reaching out to move her outgrown bangs away from her eye. “you should trim your bangs.”

“mhm.” hanni isn’t really listening, not when your hand is under her jaw.

you lean closer, noses nearly touching. hanni's eyes flutter shut, and you hesitate, your lips just a breath away from hers. her fingers nervously play with the neckline of your t-shirt, a silent invitation. with that small gesture, you tilt your head a little more and close the distance, your lips finally meeting hers.

it’s delicate at first, short and swift. the two of you part a few millimeters away before you kiss her again, each kiss growing longer and more comfortable. it feels right, perfect – all of it. her hand slides up to your collarbone and rests at the base of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. hanni hums softly into the kiss, her nails pressing subtly into your skin.

it feels like you’re on cloud nine.

the two of you part after a few more slow kisses, for real this time, now able to see the effect you have on each other.

your cheeks are bloodshot, and hanni’s cheeks mirror yours.

“can i do that again?”

hanni nods, biting her lip slightly.

you lean forward again and kiss her as if its the only thing you’ve ever dreamed of.

what catches you off guard is her putting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it as she pushes you back slightly. your lips are still close, and you can feel her hot breath brushing your skin.

“w-wait, y/n.”

“hm? did you not like it? sorry oh my god–” she cuts your worries off with a kiss.

“no, i just–” hanni parts further, you feel your heart sink. she looks down at your lips for a moment. “--i want to keep going but before i can… i’ve been thinking,”

“about?”

“us.”

“how?”

“y/n, you wanted to be friends at first, and so did i. trust me, i really really liked that, like, so much.”

you look at her, confused.

“but this isn’t what friends do, and i want to be more than friends but… i just, i just really need to know why we ever stopped being how we used to. the full reason.”

“what?”

“there was something left out, i guess it felt vague – your apology.”

you can’t believe her, and the fact that the moment was halted because of it makes you a little irritated. “you’re still stuck on that?” the defensive, aggressive tone throws hanni off. “you’re– you’re joking, right?”

hanni pulls away fully now, taking her hands off of you. “why are you getting angry again, you can’t tell me the real reason, is that it?”

“hanni, i just–”

“you gave me an apology, but it wasn’t the full thing. that’s enough to be friends again, but to kiss you and have something beyond being friends… i’d like a full explanation, you know?”

you scoff, shaking your head. “you’re still stuck on it.” you say unbelievably.

“of course i am! i want to know the full reason before we… before this.” she points between the two of you

“i– i can’t hanni.”

“is it that bad?”

“i just, not now, please.” it’s too selfish and humiliating, besides, you’ve already kissed her. an explanation isn’t even necessary.

“you can’t even tell me.” hanni looks at you, a feeling of betrayal seeps into her. “and you expect me to keep kissing you.”

“it’s not relevant! it’s not serious.”

“then tell me! what’s so hard y/n, what is so fucking difficult to confess.”

“i’m not arguing with you hanni, not now.” you sigh, standing up. “we should meet the others downstairs.”

“go on and avoid this like you did years ago, are you going to pop up next week and tell me you’re going abroad again or…?”

you don’t respond, mainly because you don’t trust yourself to say something that’ll keep the fire from bursting and growing. shaking your head, you grab your bag and put it on, looking at her again with a tongue poking the inside of your lip.

“let’s go.”

“go by yourself.”

“hanni, you’re on crutches.”

“go.” she spits, sounding sad, angry, and deceived.

–

you’ve fucked up.

so badly.

hanni steps out of the elevator on her crutches, giving you a brief glance before heading over to minji and danielle. you frown, memories flooding back and making it feel like all the effort to reconnect was for nothing. you still managed to screw everything up.

you know you’re in trouble when she doesn’t let you help her onto the bus, when she stares out the window the whole ride back, and when she starts giving you the same cold treatment you gave her years ago.

after kissing hanni and then feeling rejected by her within the same hour, a heavy weight settles on your chest. you try to talk to her, you really do, but she doesn’t budge or respond, letting you sit with the consequences of your actions alone. the ride back feels like needles slowly, slowly poking into your skin, and you can’t do anything about it.

–

hanni doesn’t leave your mind, even after two weeks of getting back to school, settling into your practices and winning districts – nothing helps the fact that your brain screams hanni hanni hanni.

everytime you see her, you try to talk to her or interact, but she just won’t let it happen.

even minji's exchanges with you are shorter now, more reserved, focusing mainly on school. you feel like you've dug a hole in the ground only to get stuck there, with all your progress leading to a pothole you can’t escape. it doesn’t help that every time you see hanni, you just want to hold her again, take care of her, and offer that same softness and genuine care. but you can't, and she won’t let you.

even after you two present your project together, with hanni complying just enough to give you a temporary moment of interaction, she quickly returns to her reserved self. it’s terrible because she’s still that same hanni you love when she’s not around you. you catch her laughing with her friends at lunch, smiling, looking pretty, and seeming unbothered by everything.

you might die if you don't get to interact with her normally again. every second, the thought of hanni smiling at you instead, maybe even kissing you and holding onto you like before, crosses your mind. you try to push it down, burying it deep into the back of your mind, locking it away; because the only way to try and live with it for the time being is to ignore it.

(it’s almost impossible.

screw that, it’s impossible.)

–

hanni catches sight of you from a few tables away in the lunchroom. you’re surrounded by cheerful, excited teammates, all celebrating the recent district win. even haerin, usually quiet and reserved, is more talkative and lively.

but you’re not.

her eyes meet yours for a fleeting second. she sees a flicker of hope in your gaze, and her heart clenches. she tries hard to look away, forcing herself to ignore you as she always does. despite the happiness and laughter around you, there’s a melancholy in your eyes that she can’t shake off, and it makes her heart ache. even with that, she can’t give in, she’s too afraid of false truths and feeling worse along the line.

“you haven’t touched your lunch.” minji points out. “hanni, you can’t keep doing this.”

“i have to.”

“i know she fucked up, but she’s come to me begging to talk to you. she’s hurt and regrets a lot. if you could let her explain, then maybe things will work out.”

“and what if it’s just a sugarcoated explanation? minji, i can’t feel like that again.”

“you’re already skipping meals, and i know it’s screwing you up too. could letting her back in really be any worse?”

hanni hates that minji is really smart. she’s right—she’s usually right, anyway. hanni knows she’s partly to blame for letting the crack in your relationship start to form again. if the distance keeps growing, she’s not sure if it can be patched up the way it was before. the thought of losing what you two had, after all the effort to rebuild it, terrifies her.

“i don’t know minji.” she puts her head down, her voice being muffled in her arms as she says, “i really don’t know.”

“you have to let her in.”

“will she let me in?”

“y/n is not a bad person, from my judgement at least.” minji states. she puts a hand on hanni’s back, offering a comforting squeeze. “plus, my best friend can’t eat because of it.”

–

hanni watches you from afar, still on the school courts shooting hoops long after practice has ended. she knows you use practice to distract yourself and escape, and seeing you shoot like a relentless machine makes her feel worse than she already does. you miss one shot, then another, and finally, in frustration, throw the ball across the court, not far from where hanni stands.

from across the gym, you spot her standing in the doorway, frozen in place. your chest heaves with exertion, sweat dripping, and exhaustion settling in. just seeing hanni makes your body feel heavier, shoulders slumping and arms going limp.

she watches you with a frown but can’t hold your gaze any longer. you observe her biting her lip before she turns and leaves, and you're left alone with the weight of your emotions and the distance between you growing even larger.

it’s all my fault. it’s the truth, you can’t let it go on any longer. your legs hurt, you don’t know if shooting is worth it after seeing her because she’ll flash in your mind and you’ll miss each time.

hanni’s not going to give in for another while, and you’re growing impatient. you’re not fourteen anymore, you can’t be stubborn and stupid for the rest of your life.

you can’t be the reason for your own regrets anymore, losing everything you’ve built with hanni – losing hanni – would be the last straw.

–

the sound of something hitting the window halts hanni’s efforts of falling asleep. she hasn’t been able to without melatonin, not when she’s been distancing herself from you.

she rubs her eyes and groans, then glances through the window, her breath fogging the cold glass as she scoffs at the sight of you standing outside. it's freezing, she knows, and even the a/c can't fend off the chill. she squints, trying to make out your figure in the dim light. you're in pajamas, a light long-sleeve shirt flapping loosely in the wind, and plaid pants that are clearly shit against the biting cold. the front lights aren't on, casting you in shadows, but she can still see enough to worry about you.

she can’t, she’s done everything she can not to talk to you, but she can’t just ignore the fact that you’re out in the cold and if she does brush you off you’ll end up sick the next day. hanni can give you the cold shoulder, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you, she can’t have you catching a cold.

you wait there, feeling your fingers start to numb as the wind blows again. your teeth clammer against each other when you shiver, waiting there helplessly; the only way to get hanni back is to be vulnerable, if that means waking up stuffy and congested, then so be it.

"what the hell is wrong with you, y/n?" hanni says, her tone more worried than angry. she rushes over to you, grabbing your hand and dragging you inside. "it's past midnight, are you insane?"

“hanni let me apologize, please. no bullshit this time, full truth.”

“y/n,” hanni sighs, looking at you closely. the lamp in her living room hits one side of your face, showing the slight tint of red on your cheeks and nose. “come upstairs. fuck you’re so lucky my parents aren’t home.”

“thank you.”

“yeah, whatever.” she says, but so quietly that you can’t even hear it.

you follow her like a lost dog up the stairs and into her room, she closes the door, then turns on her desk lamp.

hanni hears your breath shake. “there’s a reason behind everything i do.”

“don’t sugarcoat anything y/n. i’ve given you a second chance, you’re lucky i’m giving you a third.”

“i know, i’m the luckiest person already after being able to be your friend. and i want that again, no, let me be clear.” you step closer to her, head tilted down to meet her features. shes unable to tear away from your gaze, stuck in place. somehow, you look even cuter with your rosy cheeks and ruined hair from the wind, and those pajamas make you look like an adorable idiot. “it’s not an excuse, but people are so stupid when they’ve just become teenagers.”

“clearly.”

“i know.” you sigh out again. she’s looking up still, dead into your eyes that soften upon just seeing her and it’s like there’s a whole world in your pupils as they dilate. “look, i don’t want to regret more than i already do. i was stupid, i never liked anyone, – romantically – until you.”

“what?”

“hanni, i found you so pretty and amazing and we were fucking young and you were my only friend. i couldn’t even make friends when i went to korea, you know? no one was as striking as you. i’ve made friends here but they’re nothing like you. it’s just so embarrassing and terrible to admit, i’ve been running around it, in circles really. that’s why i’ve never told you, that’s why i get so mad at the mere mention of it because it’s just so… it frustrated me.”

“what are you saying y/n?”

“hanni.” your voice lowers and your lips twitch. “ all those years, they were frustrating and confusing and screwed up my brain that wasn’t even fully developed. i’ve loved you for more years than i can count on one hand. i never knew that, really, until we got to middle school. i was so scared my feelings would get in the way and you had all these other friends that made you laugh more than me. i was scared you would grow out of me, i hated the idea of you with anyone else but me.”

silence follows, hanni’s brows upturn and her jaw drops slightly. the red glazing your cheeks is much more apparent, so deep that she might even be able to see it without the soft light in her room.

“i shouldn’t have been so insecure and stupid and selfish and–” you pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “i’m sorry. and i’m still in love with you more than you’ll ever know, and after kissing you i know that’s not going away. i know that to fix everything i need to be honest and i couldn’t even do that and i–”

“you like me?” hanni says, surprised isn’t enough to explain how she feels.

“what?”

“it’s all because you liked me? you did this because you were in love with me? y/n, oh my god.”

“i understand if you’re mad hanni i really do–”

“no– yes. i’m pissed.” she looks at you defeatedly, but somehow relieved at the same time. “you’re the stupidest person i know.” her voice is faint as she pieces everything together.

“i know and i shouldn’t have–”

“no, shut up.” she watches your expression shift into confusion. her hands find their way to your face, cupping it like it’s the only thing they were meant to do. she whispers as she leans closer, “you dumbass just shut up.”

her lips are on yours again since the hotel, rushed and desperate and everything in between.

naturally, your hands find their way to her waist, holding her close. you melt into each other, kissing and kissing because it's the only thing you can and want to do. warmth floods through you, getting rid of the cold of the night. hanni reverses the numbing sensation that you had felt, making you feel. what you’re feeling? there’s not much that can describe that, you just know that everything in this moment is perfect. she's perfect—her against you, with you, close to you. her lips, her presence, just her—hanni.

both of you pull away at the same time after running short on breath. she stares at you, plays with your hair, and kisses you again.

hanni does anything she can to keep close to you, right there in the middle of her room on the carpet that you helped her pick out.

you don't think there's a single thought in your mind that isn't of hanni, not just because you’re kissing her, but really, in general. her fingers grip the back of your neck, her are lips soft and warm against yours, and she groans lightly into you. the heat radiates off her skin, wrapping you in a comforting warmth that seeps into your bones.

and it feels right to move over, hanni figures. she guides you over to her bed, praying that you two don’t trip when she redirects you over to her matress, climbing into your lap. she pulls away again, slowly.

your lips have a mind of their own, following hers even if they’re starting to get puffy. you’re unsure whether or not you can even breathe.

she slides her hands to the sides of your neck, then up just below your jawline. her skin brushes against you and goosebumps roam up your spine.

“you’re so stupid.”

“uh huh.” you mumble, staring at her like a loser. “yeah.”

she giggles, then her lips form a loving smile. “you’re in love with me.” she says, almost like she’s convincing herself. “you love me.”

bashfully, you respond, “yeah.”

“and because of that you avoided me.”

your hands loosen around her waist. “sorry.”

“no, you’re an idiot.”

“i know hanni, i know.”

“no you don’t.” she slides one hand back into your hair and it feels like time has slowed down. “i’ve been in love with you, dumbass.”

“you– you have?”

“we just madeout for almost an hour – probably – yes, i’m in love with you. i had a crush on you when we were twelve– i’ve had a crush on you since.” she leans closer, her lips ghosting over yours. “you’re so, so, dumb y/n. kiss me again and i’ll forgive you, i guess.”

“uh huh.” you practically respond into the kiss, meeting her eagerly.

it feels right just kissing her like that, slow and steady, then quick and longing until your lips are swollen and numb. she falls down onto the bed tiredly, coaxing you to follow. even after taking each other’s breath away, you’re cautious of the boundaries and what you can do. you’re still an asshole for being stupid and in love, you think you’ll always be an asshole because of that.

but hanni manages to wash away any worry, scooting closer into you and clinging onto you again. you feel her press a haste kiss on your neck and sigh sleepily, then mutter, “i’m just glad things turned out like this.”

“me too.”

“you still owe me a lot y/n.”

nodding slowly, you respond quietly, “okay, i’ll buy us bread tomorrow.”

“mhm,” she closes her eyes, and sighs happily when your fingers start to soothe her scalp. “and kiss me again.”

“that’s nothing.”

“good.” she murmurs. “you’re so warm. stay.”

hanni’s spent every moon thinking of you, being mad at you, missing you, and loving you regardless. you’ve spent every second doing this. it’s the feeling of being curled up together comfortably that makes up for everything – nothing can beat it, nothing’s better than hanni in your arms, right there, right now.

you, hanni, together – that’s all that matters.

“i’m not going anywhere.” you promise, voice so thin it might break if the wind manages to seep through the closed windows. “never again.”

#kpop x reader #hanni x reader #pham hanni x reader #newjeans x reader #new jeans x reader #newjeans imagines #newjeans hanni #pham hanni #miinatozakiii

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sceletaflores · 4 months ago

Text

working it out (on the remix)

pairing: art donaldson x patrick zweig x fem!reader summary: you sit in the angry silence, gears slowly turning in your head as you look between your boys. you should have known that this wasn't going to work, clearly just talking isn’t going to get the three of you anywhere.

—or: three tennis players walk into a hotel room.

word count: 5.5k contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, smoking, fighting as foreplay, mean!reader my beloved, the patrick and art gay agenda, threesome, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all!), not quite hate sex more like angry sex, double penetration, oral sex (m!receiving), choking, finger sucking, degradation, creampies, lowkey sub!patrick coded, switch!art ofc, porn with a plot, no use of y/n. author’s note: oh em gee part three is here!!! i literally always say this but i had so much fun writing this one lol thank you so much for showing this series so much love right off the bat! i've loved loved loved reading all the ideas you guys have sent me for future chapters and trust when i say that i'll definitely be featuring as many as i can. okay bye! hope you love it! xoxo mwah.

tftw series masterlist!

Art is fuming. You keep glancing over at him to check that smoke isn't starting to blow out of his ears. It doesn't, but he's just as mad every time. Standing in the doorway huffing and puffing, arms crossed over his chest as he stares Patrick down from across the room.

Patrick is the complete opposite, all relaxed body language and easy half-smiles as he coolly stares back. You’d make a fire and ice joke if you didn’t think it would send Art over the edge.

He’s sitting in the room’s single chair, window cracked open so he can smoke. He’s practically naked, wearing an unbuttoned long sleeve and the tiniest boxers you’ve ever seen. His bare feet are propped up on the corner of the bed you’re sitting on.

You’re perched cross legged on the mattress, basically stuck in the middle of them.

You’re still surprised you even got Art to show up at all. You thought he almost flipped the table when you brought up Patrick at lunch, casually mentioning that you’ve been texting him for the past couple of days and you think the three of you need to talk. He was quiet for a long time before he finally asked if that meant Patrick was, has been, in town. You just shook your head yes.

You didn’t tell him you and Patrick slept together, you didn’t need to.

He went quiet again, stood up from his chair with an excuse of being late to class and stomped out of the dining hall. You texted him the address to Patrick’s hotel an hour later.

Art never responded, but his jeep was still waiting for you outside the biology building after your last lecture got out. He would always drive you back to your dorm since you’d get out so late, but this time he turned out of the campus lot and silently drove until you realized he was going to the hotel.

Now you’re here, and it's been almost ten minutes since you knocked on the door to Patrick’s room. And no one has said anything the entire time. No one has even moved, only Patrick every so often when he needs to flick his ashes out the window. A thick blanket of tense silence falls heavy over the three of you. It makes the room’s temperature feel that much hotter. The shitty air conditioner hums faintly in the background.

“So,” you say slowly, voice finally piercing through the quiet, “Am I gonna have to be the first to talk again or–”

“God, I don’t know,” Art cuts in tersely, not looking away from Patrick as he does, ”I can’t believe I don’t have anything to say to the guy that fucked my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Both you and Patrick ask sharply, opposing tones of shock and amusement blending together.

Art's eyes narrow, a storm brewing in the blue of them. He’s still looking at Patrick, talking about you like you’re not sitting right in front of him. "Yeah, my girlfriend. Did I stutter?" His chest is puffed out just enough for you to notice, his mouth pulled down at the corners in a deep frown.

You blink, caught off guard. Art’s never asked you to go steady with him, you’ve never even been on a date. Unless you count fucking in the back of his jeep at a drive in theater a date, then sure, you’ve been on one date. Regardless, the possessive timbre of his voice has something warm simmering under your skin.

Patrick laughs, loud and abrasive. “Well, this is fucking news to me,” he says through a chuckle, eyes flicking between the two of you bemusedly, “I didn’t realize you guys were playing house, but that does makes a lot more sense now.” He gestures to your chest with his free hand, pointing out the dark blue sweatshirt you’re wearing.

‘Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy’ is stitched across the front in thin black thread; you'd stolen it from Art’s closet when you slept over at his dorm a few nights ago. He never asked for it back.

“It’s cute that you kept my shirt, Donaldson.” Patrick teases, lolling his head to the side lazily so he can look at Art through his lashes. A plume of smoke billows from between his lips, slipping through the open window slowly. “Even after you tried to turn my girlfriend against me and fucked her behind my back first–”

“Fuck you, Patrick–” Art starts, face twisted in a scowl. His hands ball into fists at his side, jaw ticking with anger.

Patrick doesn’t look deterred, leaning forward in his chair as he tries to talk over Art, “You’re such a fucking hypocrite–”

“I’m not anyone’s girlfriend,” you cut them both off, brows drawn together in frustration, “—and I’m not going to let this turn into some weird pissing contest between you two. We’re here to talk.”

Art scoffs agitatedly, casting his eyes to the ceiling. “Looks like the two of you have done plenty of talking without me,” he says bitterly. “Do you get off on this shit or something? On sticking your dick where it doesn’t fucking belong?”

Patrick smirks, leaning back in his chair, arms draped lazily over the armrests. “God, you really do think you’re innocent in this,” he laughs incredulously, leaning back in his chair. “You’re acting like you’ve got some moral high ground, but you don’t. You’re just as guilty of playing the game as I am.”

Art’s face darkens further, anger threatening to boil over. “This isn’t a game to me, Patrick,” he spits, tone hard and low, “I’m so sick of you treating everything like a goddamn joke.”

Patrick’s smirk doesn’t falter. “I never said it was a joke,” he says with a shrug, tone easy and nonchalant. “I’m just saying, maybe you should take a good look in the mirror before you start pointing fucking fingers. I’m not the only one who’s played dirty here.”

“Patrick–” you warn, sitting up straighter. You can feel the way the air changes, the way the animosity gets turned up. The last thing you need is for them to start throwing punches.

Art cuts you off, shaking his head in contempt. “You’re so full of shit. You don’t fucking care about her. You never did. You just want to win, because you can’t stand the thought of losing to me.”

Patrick groans loudly, throwing his head back with it. “We’re really going back to this again? Jesus Christ, give it up man. It’s not like she was ever really yours to begin with.” He takes another slow drag from his cigarette, eyes never leaving Art.

The jab hits its mark, you can see it on Art’s face. In the way he physically recoils, the way he takes a ragged breath through his nose, the way the muscles of his jaw work furiously. For the first time since you fucked Patrick, you feel like a fucking bitch. The familiar feeling of guilt wraps its tendrils around you, weighing you down into the mattress like a physical force.

It gives you an idea, the guilt. It's a filthy idea, one that has heat stirring between your legs at just the thought. It’s a good way to make this whole situation up to Art, a good way to let him get under Patrick’s skin the same way he’s getting under his.

You sit in the angry silence, gears slowly turning in your head as you look between your boys. You should have known that this wasn't going to work, clearly just talking isn’t getting the three of you anywhere.

You sigh, overly dramatic and long suffering, scooting down until your legs are hanging over the edge of the mattress. Art and Patrick watch you the entire time, eyes finally leaving each other to watch your hands settle on the hem of Patrick’s sweatshirt.

“You guys are being so difficult. Why did I think that you could behave enough to talk this out like big boys?” You tug it off in one swift move, tossing it to the side carelessly. Two sharp gasps ring out, two sets of greedy eyes roam the bare expanse of your torso. You hadn’t worn a bra today.

You smirk, standing from the mattress and hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your sweats. You push them down your legs slowly, making a show of it until you're only in the pair of light purple panties you slipped on this morning. Patrick smirks, flicking his cigarette butt out the window and yanking it closed. He goes to stand, Art pointedly takes a single threatening step forward as he does but you stop both of them in their tracks.

“No.” Your voice rings through the small room, loud and commanding. Patrick sits back down almost immediately, his brow raising in confusion. Art does the same, freezing with one foot in front of him. They’re both hard, cocks tenting the fabric of their bottoms. Their boners point towards each other, you bite your lip to hide your smile.

“You’ve been so bad, Ricky.” you scold softly, voice syrupy sweet as you lean back on the bed. “Dressed up like an easy whore in here waiting for us, being so mean to Art, fucking his girl…” You trail off boredly, palms braced flat on the bed behind you so you can lean back as casually as you can muster. You let your legs fall open, spread enough to let Patrick and Art see the wet spot slowly seeping into the fabric.

You can hear Art’s sharp inhale from across the room at your words, his girl. You’re still careful not to say girlfriend, that’s a whole other talk. Patrick squirms in his chair, practically itching with the need to say something. You level him with a hard look, a firm shake of your head keeps him quiet. When you finally turn your attention to Art, he meets your gaze easily, eyes already blown out and glassy. Even from here you can see the way his pupils swallow the pretty blue color.

You smile, lips curling up in a wicked smile. “Art,” you coo softly, reaching your hand out in offering, “come here.”

Art’s walking towards you without a second thought, crossing the room in just a few large steps. You smile at him, patting the spot next to you. The bed creaks as he sits down, the mattress dipping under his weight slides you closer to him. ”I think,” you say slowly, resting your hand high up on his thigh, so close to the hard line of his cock straining against the fabric, “that we need to teach Patrick a lesson on manners.”

“What! No fucking way, that’s bullshi–” Patrick fusses from the corner, sitting up straighter in seat, the armrest gripped tight in his left hand.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap, whipping your head to the side to glare at him. “This isn’t about you.”

He frowns, pushing out his bottom lip like an actual child. You just barely fight the urge to roll your eyes, an evil smile spreading across your face as you watch him honest-to-God pout.

“This is about Art,” you slide your hand up higher, cupping him through his loose shorts. You can hear his sharp intake of breath, a quiet ‘fuck’ falls from his lips as you apply more pressure to where your hand is steadily rubbing him up and down. “Plus, you’re already in the cuck chair,” you aren’t able to stop the small chuckle that falls from your lips, “you’ve got a perfect view.”

His pink lips part ever so slightly, eyes going wide and hungry at your words. You throw him one last devilish smile before you’re sinking to your knees in front of the bed. The scratchy carpet digs into your knees but you don’t care, not when Art is towering in front of you with the ceiling lights shining around him like he’s an angel.

You smile up at him, dragging the palms of your hands up and down his thighs. “Take your shirt off,” you encourage, slipping your hands up to toy with the hem of his shorts.

He complies beautifully, pulling his shirt up and over his head and tossing it aside, revealing the lean, toned muscles of his torso. You let your eyes linger on him for a moment, appreciating the sight before returning your attention to your task. Your fingers deftly undo the drawstring of his shorts, and start tugging them down. Art lifts his hips enough for you to drag them all the way down his legs, taking his boxers with them to free his hard cock.

Again, you slide your hands up the bare skin of his thighs, inches away from where he wants them. He’s so hard, cock standing straight up in an angry red line against his stomach. The tip drools pre-cum that leaks down the length of him slowly.

Art's breath hitches, his eyes locked onto you with a mix of anticipation and desperation. Your fingers brush lightly over his upper thighs, before you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, feeling the heat of his arousal pulse against your palm. His gasp is sharp, and you silently revel in the power you hold over him in this moment.

You glance over at Patrick, who is staring wide-eyed, his earlier irritation replaced with a raw, unfiltered hunger.

Your lips curl into a smug smile at the sight of his flushed cheeks and the way his chest rises and falls with each heavy breath. “See something you like, Patrick?” you taunt, giving Art a slow, deliberate stroke that has him groaning softly. Patrick’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching, but he stays silent, his gaze locked on the two of you.

Art's hands grip the sheets beneath him, his knuckles turning white. "Fuck," he breathes out, his voice strained, "you're killing me."

You laugh softly, a dark, melodic sound, and lean forward, letting your tongue flick out to taste the bead of precum at the tip of his cock. Art moans, the sound vibrating through you. You glance up at him through your lashes, seeing the way his head tilts back, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure.

You slide your lips up the length of his leaking cock, teasing and slow. Art stares down at you, not breaking eye contact as he breathes raggedly through his nose.

“Tell him how it feels,” you whisper against the pink tip of his cock, sliding it back and forth across your lips teasingly. Art swallows hard, skin flushing in embarrassment.

“So good…” he whispers, eyes still locked onto yours. His blush goes from his cheeks all the way down to his chest, spreading pink and warm across the strong muscle of his pecs.

You smile, shaking your head softly. “Don’t tell me, tell him.” You jerk your head in Patrick’s direction once before you sink down until your nose is nestled against the soft blonde hair at the base of his cock, working your throat around the length of him.

Art moans loudly, his hands coming up to tangle into your hair. You keep going, fighting his grip on you as you start to bob your head over his cock in a steady rhythm, working your hand in time with your mouth.

He forces himself to look at Patrick, catching his eyes.

Patrick looks fucked, lips slick and dropped open as he stares back Art, hungry gaze not wavering. His cock is still hard, pressed against the seam of his boxers and leaking a steady patch of wetness around the head.

A silent challenge seems to pass between the two of them.

We doing this or what?

Art refuses to back down, hardening his resolve. “Feels so fucking good,” he groans, not looking away from Patrick, “her throat’s so tight, so– God, it’s so good. Best I’ve ever had.”

He’s rambling, not even making any sense but you hum in approval all the same, your tongue curling around the crown. Patrick doesn’t look like he minds too much either, pink tongue coming out to swipe along his bottom lip. "Please," he whispers, almost too quiet to hear. "Let me..."

You pull off Art with a wet pop, turning your head as best you can with his hand still tangled in your hair to fix Patrick with a steely gaze. "You don't get to make requests," you say, your voice hard. "You get to watch and learn."

Patrick's eyes darken, his lips pressing into a thin line, but he doesn't protest. Art lets out a low growl, his hand tightening its grip on your hair and dragging your mouth back to his cock.

“Stop fucking talking to him,” he demands, hips thrusting to fuck back into your mouth. You choke on the sudden fullness, wetness floods your panties as you moan around him.

Yes, you think, eyes squeezing close as you force your throat to relax around his cock, this is what I wanted.

You were waiting to see how long it’d take Art to snap, he lasted longer than you thought he would. The head of his cock punches against the soft, spongy part at the back of your throat. You fight to not gag around him, hands scrambling for purchase on his thighs. His balls slap against your chin roughly, sticking wetly to the drool that's starting to fall from the corners of your lips.

Art meets Patrick’s eye again, a smug smirk on his face as he jerks his head in a clear invitation, “Come here.” He grunts simply, dragging you up and down the length of his cock by his tight grip on your hair.

Patrick practically sprints from the chair, ripping his shirt off while he tries to kick his boxers off before he reaches the bed. He sits next to Art, chest heaving as he stares down at where your lips stretched obscenely over his best friend's cock.

Art pulls you off by your hair, holding your face a few inches away from his spit covered cock. He tuts at you sympathetically, tilting his head to the side with a tiny frown at the sight of you all teary eyed. “Bet you feel real empty, right?” he asks sadly, shaking your head back and forth like a dog. “That greedy pussy wants our cocks stretching her open, doesn't she?”

You whine loudly, nodding your head as best you can as the meaning of Art’s words sink over you. You feel far away, like you’ve already been fucked six ways to Sunday. You cunt clenches around nothing, aching for Art and Patrick’s cocks bullying their way inside you. You’ve never done anything like that before, taken two guys at once, but God do you need it.

Art nods back, brows pulled together in faux pity. “Pat and I will help baby,” he says sweetly, “You just gotta get nice and stretched out first, need to fuck yourself open on Patrick’s cock so you can take us.”

“Fuck yeah,” Patrick breathes, already moving up the bed to lay flat on his back agasint the pillows. His cock sticking straight out from his body, pointing to the ceiling desperately.

Art lets go of your hair, cupping the side of your face tenderly. His thumb rubs against the soft skin of your cheekbone a few times, you know it’s a question.

Do you want this?

You smile, nuzzling his palm and giving his thumb a playful nip. The answer to his question written all over your face.

Fuck yes.

Art smiles back, nodding his head once. You take the hint, rising from your knees to climb onto the mattress. You slide your panties off, tossing them aside as you crawl up the length of Patrick’s body, straddling his hips and wasting no time in sinking down on his cock.

Art settles next to the two of you, hand loosely gripped around his cock as he starts to lazily stroke himself to the sight of you and Patrick.

“Fuck!” Patrick hisses, his hands coming up to grip your hips fiercely as you start to ride him, not giving either of you anytime to adjust. The stretch burns, the lack of prepping before hand makes it sting. You don’t mind, too worked up to care.

“God, you’re such a fucking slut,” He tries, but you cut him off bringing your free hand to wrap around the column of his throat just like he did to you back in the shower.

“You’re the slut,” you growl, fingers digging into his skin roughly. His eyes widen, plush lips going slack. You speed your hips up, the loud smack each time you drop down onto him echoes through the room. “You’re the easy fucking whore that soaked your panties watching your best friend fuck my throat."

Art huffs out a breath, hand slipping over his cock faster as he watches you ride Patrick. His eyes are trained on the way your hand is wrapped against Patrick’s throat. He slips his free hand down, pressing two fingers against Patrick’s cock so you slide down onto them on the next bounce.

“Fuck!” You keen loudly, grip tightening on Patrick’s throat. Art’s fingers add to the sting of your cunt, but your hips don’t stop moving, even as he slips in a third just as fast.

You get lost in it, in the feeling of Patrick’s dick fucking into you so deeply you swear he’s hitting your cervix with every roll of your hips, Art’s fingers stretching you that much wider.

Suddenly, Art drops his cock so his free hand can latch onto your hips, his strong grip forcing you to stop your desperate bouncing. His fingers slip out of you, you immediately miss the stretch.

Patrick groans in displeasure, his hips buck up like he’s trying to slide back into the warmth of your fucked open cunt. His leaking head bumps against your sensitive clit a few times before Art’s dropping his hand down, gripping Patrick’s cock to line it up with his own.

Art slides up behind you, his sweaty chest pressing firmly against your back. “Should be stretched out enough,” He whispers into the nape of your neck, pressing both tips against your fluttering hole.

The shock of it has your hand slipping off Patrick’s throat to anchor onto his shoulders in a feeble attempt to brace yourself. He sucks in large gasps of air, chest heaving as he stares down to where his cock is pressed snug against Art’s, his hand big enough to almost wrap around them both. He throws his head back against the pillows, eyes screwed shut, “Fuck, I can’t watch,” he gasps, voice low and ragged.

Art laughs smugly, but it’s breathy around the edges and you can feel the way his hand shakes on your hip. “Close already, Pat?” He asks condescendingly, as his fingers dig in a little tighter. “You’re not even doing any of the work.”

You try to focus on the sensation of Art’s grip, but your mind is a haze of overstimulation and the throb of Patrick’s cock against you. Art’s mocking tone sends a shiver down your spine, making you acutely aware of how close you are to the edge yourself. Your greedy cunt clenches around them, trying to suck them in you.

Patrick’s breath stutters, his hips jerking up involuntarily, making a strangled noise that’s half-groan, half-whimper. “Fuck you, man,” he manages to grind out, but his voice is trembling and strained, the bite in his tone gets undercut by how wrecked he sounds. You can feel the barely there twitches of his hips, like he’s physically pained from having to wait any longer.

A sharp cry rips from your throat as they finally start to slide in, both heads popping into your tight hole all at once. Your eyes screw shut at the stretch, thighs shaking where they’re spread over Patrick’s hips.

“Someone kiss me,” you gasp desperately, chin lowering to your chest. Art’s moving before the words finish leaving your mouth, gripping a fistful of Patrick’s hair and dragging him up to your lips. You whine into his mouth, letting his tongue slide between your lips to claim your mouth.

The familiar feeling of his lips on yours relaxes you the tiniest bit, letting Art lower you down a few more inches. It feels like hours as you sink onto them, Art’s big hands gently massaging your hips while Patrick’s greedy fingers pull and paw at your thighs.

It’s the quietest you’ve ever heard Patrick. His lips going slack in awe against yours as Art’s cock slides up next to his, moaning into your mouth when your hips go flush with his.

They feel so huge inside you, so thick you swear you can feel them in your stomach. Bullying your insides into making more room for the both of them.

“Fuck," you gasp, nails digging little crescent moons into Patrick’s shoulders. Every inch of you is alive with sensation, a burning mix of pleasure and pain. Art’s breath is hot and ragged against your ear, whispering sweet encouragements, “It’s okay baby, you’re okay, taking us so fucking good–”

You nod, slowly starting to grind your hips back and forth, gasping when they rub up against the soft spot inside of you that has you clenching in pleasure– practically choking them off at the base. A high moan falls from your lips, hips swirling the tiniest bit faster that have both Art and Patrick growl out matching groans of approval.

“Just like that,” Art whispers into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “Gonna make him come first, or are you gonna beat him to it?” The challenge in his voice sends a jolt of heat through you, your thighs starting to shake with every pass of them over that spot.

“God, ah! Art– fuck, mh, Patrick–” You slur, head already starting to go fuzzy

“Fuck,” Art gasps out your name sharply, pushing you down onto Patrick’s chest so he can start fucking into your loose, sloppy cunt. “God, you’re so fucking tight,” his hand grips the back of your neck to pin you down, throwing all his strength behind the snap of his hips.

“Shit, look at you,” Patrick chuckles weakly pinching your hips hard, trying to seem less affected than he really is. “You’re so fucking gone. All that attitude needs is some dick to fix it, huh?”

You crack your eyes open, blearily searching until you zero in on his face. He’s smiling smugly, eyes blown out and hazy.

“Shut the fuck up,” you spit weakly, raising your hand to shove your index and middle finger between his parted lips. You push back far enough to feel his throat constricting against your fingers, letting him gag on you. Your eyes trace the side of his face, down the slope of his nose to where his cherry red lips are lewdly spread around your fingers.

You can distantly hear Art groan behind you, his hips speeding up impossibly faster. His hand squeezes your neck, fingers digging into your sensitive skin meanly. You hook your fingers behind Patrick’s teeth, dragging his face to the side to meet your eye. Patrick moans around your fingers, gazing at you pleading through half lidded eyes. Drool leaks from the corners of his mouth and down his chin, drenching your wrist. His hot, wet tongue sliding along the pads of your fingers feels scalding.

Patrick's hands are everywhere, pulling, pinching, caressing, his touch a maddening mix of rough and tender. The feeling of him inside you, alongside Art, is almost too much to bear, making you gasp for breath. Your moans are a symphony of pleasure and desperation, each one a plea for more, more, more the closer you get the edge.

“Shit, ah, Art, ah!” Your feet scrabbled uselessly against the sheets, the fingers of your free hand twist Patrick’s hair roughly. “I’m gonna come— Mm, ah! I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” Art goads, the rhythm of his hips not faltering, “Come on baby– fuck yeah– fucking soak these dicks–”

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you come, your vision whites out around you as the entire world shrinks down to the stretch of your gushing cunt around Art and Patrick. The slight burn of them, the fullness, the unrelenting pace of Art’s hips stinging the skin of your ass on each thrust.

Patrick bites down on your fingers with a broken whine just as Art sinks his teeth into your neck, both of them groaning so loud it’s all you can hear. That and the faulty rhythm of Art’s hips snapping against the meat of your ass in loud ‘cracks’.

They come together, and you can feel it.

You can feel every twitch and jerk of their cocks inside you as they spray the walls of your cunt with their releases. Spurt after spurt of hot come claiming you as theirs, filling you to the brim. Art doesn’t stop, working the three of you through your orgasms. Each thrust fucks more of their come out of you, the lewd squelch of it leaking from of your loose hole to gather around the base of their cocks in two matching creamy rings makes your ears burn.

Just as it gets to be too much, when the pleasure starts to give way into biting overstimulation, Art stops. You’re slumped against Patrick, shaking like a leaf when Art starts to pull out as gently as he can. You hiss when the head of his cock slips out, thighs clenching together.

“Sorry,” he whispers sweetly, giving your shoulder a gentle kiss. He practically man handles you off of Patrick’s cock, lifting your hips up and off of him.

Patrick groans, stomach twitching in oversensitivity as your slick walls slide against his spent dick. Finally he slips out, his drenched cock falling to slap onto his stomach. There come rushes out of you, dripping sticky and thick down your inner thighs.

There’s sweat dripping down your temple when you fall onto the mattress, your back sticks to the sheets but you’re too out of it to care. Art collapses next to you, sandwiching you between him and Patrick. The three of you are quiet, chests heaving as you catch your breath. Patrick’s hairy thigh is pressed to yours, firm and toned. Art’s got an arm slung over your waist, his breath puffs hot against your neck.

“It doesn’t have to be one or the other,” you say breathlessly, voice raspy and hoarse. “It could work. We could make it work, the three of us.”

Art and Patrick are quiet, their silence heavy with contemplation. You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling, more nervous bringing this up than you thought you’d be. The room is filled with the sounds of your collective breaths, mingling with the lingering scent of sweat and sex.

Patrick chuckles, you can feel his curls brushing against your shoulder as he shakes his head in dry amusement. "Yeah, because everything about this screams 'healthy relationship,'" he quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Art lets out a soft, exasperated sigh, his grip on your waist tightening just a little. "We don't have to decide anything right now," he says, his voice low and steady. "Let's just...see where this goes."

You feel a rush of relief at his words, but Patrick’s hesitancy still gnaws at the edges of your mind. Patrick shifts beside you, his hand skirting lightly over your arm in a rare moment of tenderness.

"Guess we're in uncharted territory, huh?" he murmurs, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

You laugh, finally daring to glance at both of them, a tentative smile forming on your lips. "Yeah, but maybe that's not such a bad thing."

Art and Patrick look back at you with matching grins wide enough to show their teeth, blonde and black hair fanning around their faces like halo’s under the room’s shitty fluorescent light. Your heart swells under the intense stare of two pairs of eyes, one blue and one green. You can feel the room start to fade away until it’s just the three of you and nothing else seems to matter.

Art leans down, giving your right shoulder a quick kiss. “If we’re doing this, we have to be honest with each other.” He looks between you and Patrick pointedly, but he’s still smiling. “No more bullshit games.”

Patrick snorts, letting his head fall back onto the pillows, “Yes sir.”

You nod, not bothering to hide your smile. "No bullshit, no games," you agree, moving to squeeze Art's hand. He squeezes back in a silent promise.

The three of you lie there in a comfortable silence, the weight of your decision settling over you. It's definitely not going to be easy, but maybe, just maybe, it could work.

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