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amkyor · 2 months ago

Note

Hey! I'm a big fan, annnd I have a bakugou x y/n idea... where bakugou hasn't been paying attention to y/n his girlfriend lately and it's been lonely.... so y/n is watching a romance anime with Mina and y/n says... "I wish I had that"....and then Mina ask if she loves bakugou and she says ...."hes okay"..... but the whole time bakugou and his friend kirishima were listening....and bakugou his mind is like "I'm a bad boyfriend? Does she love me? Im...okay?"

K. BAKUGO SHORT STORY

Synopsis: Bakugo has been distant toward his girlfriend (you), and she realizes how much it is actually affecting her while watching a romance movie that includes the love that she wishes she had.

Short note: Chapter 23 of my Bakugo x Reader Fanfiction is out now! If you like my stories on here, I'm sure you'll like my fanfiction, so go check it out! The link is at the end of this post!!

Distance Between Us:

It all started slowly, too slow for you to realize.

The day you started to notice it was when it was late in the evening, and you were sitting on the couch, waiting for Bakugo to come home.

He had promised to spend the evening with you after work, but as the hours ticked by, your excitement turned into frustration. Finally, you heard the front door open.

Bakugo walked in, still in his hero uniform, his face tired and serious. "Sorry, I got held up at work. Some idiot caused a mess in the city," he muttered, tossing his gloves onto the table.

You smiled, trying to be understanding. "It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re home now. Want me to heat up the dinner I made for us?"

"Not hungry," he replied shortly, already pulling out his phone. "I need to check the patrol schedule for tomorrow. There’s a lot going on."

You sighed, your shoulders dropping. "Katsuki, can’t it wait? You’ve been working all day. We barely get time together."

But he didn’t seem to hear you, his eyes glued to the screen. "Huh? Yeah, sure, whatever you say."

The evening dragged on, and though he was physically present, his mind remained consumed by hero work.

You ended up eating dinner alone while he sat at the kitchen table, typing away on his laptop.

---

Another time was when he had made plans out of nowhere to hang out with his friends and ditch out on the two of you had planned.

It was a rare weekend when Bakugo didn’t have patrol or missions lined up.

You had planned a quiet day together—something simple, just the two of you.

But as you were setting up breakfast, his phone buzzed on the counter.

Bakugo glanced at the screen and smirked. "It’s Kirishima. He wants to hit the gym and grab lunch afterward. I’ll be back later."

Your stomach sank. "I thought today was for us? We haven’t had a day off together in weeks, Katsuki."

He blinked as if realizing for the first time that you might have feelings about this. "We can hang out later. It’s not like I’m gone all day. Plus, I haven’t seen the guys in a while."

You bit your lip, trying to keep your disappointment in check. "But we haven’t seen each other in a while either."

He paused for a second, then ruffled your hair in a halfhearted gesture. "Come on, it’s not a big deal. I’ll see you tonight." Before you could argue further, he was already grabbing his gym bag and heading out the door.

---

Another day came, and he did the same.

Bakugo’s dedication to his work often left him exhausted, and his sleep schedule was all over the place.

One night, you stayed up late, waiting for him to come to bed.

You had something important to talk about, but he was still in the living room, sprawled out on the couch, catching up on sleep.

"Katsuki," you called softly, standing in the doorway.

He grunted, barely lifting his head. "What is it?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s been on my mind for a while."

He groaned, sitting up slightly. "Can it wait? I just got back from a double shift, and I’m dead tired."

"But it’s important," you insisted, stepping closer.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Y/n, I can’t deal with anything serious right now. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?"

The next day came and went, and so did the conversation. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever get the timing right.

---

Then, of course, came another.

One evening, Bakugo was in the backyard, practicing his explosions while you watched from the patio.

You had been waiting for him to finish so you could spend some quality time together, but he was completely absorbed in his training.

"Hey, Katsuki," you called out, waving at him. "How much longer are you going to be out here?"

"Not now, babe," he shouted back, his voice carrying over the sound of crackling explosions. "I’m almost done!"

Almost turned into an hour, and by the time he came inside, you were curled up on the couch, half-asleep.

He walked past you, grabbing a water bottle from the kitchen.

"Sorry, I lost track of time," he said, but there was no apology in his tone.

You gave him a small smile, too tired to argue. "It’s okay," you mumbled, though deep down, you wondered if he even realized how much you had been waiting for him.

---

In each of these scenarios, Bakugo’s priorities—whether work, friends, or personal routines—seemed to overshadow his time with you. While his intentions might not be malicious, his actions often left you feeling overlooked and craving the attention he gave to everything else in his life.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The evening was calm, the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow across the counters.

You stood at the stove, carefully stirring the simmering pot of stew. The gentle aroma of sautéed vegetables, rich broth, and spices filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soft hum of the overhead fan.

Tonight, you had decided to prepare something special—something hearty and comforting, like the conversation you hoped to have with Bakugo.

It had been a while since the two of you had truly spent time together.

His hero work had consumed most of his days, leaving you with fleeting moments of his presence.

You understood, of course, the weight of his responsibilities, but that didn’t make the distance any easier.

So, as a gesture of love and an attempt to reconnect, you had spent the better part of the evening preparing this meal.

The kitchen was cozy, lit by the soft glow of under-cabinet lights.

Plates were set neatly on the table, silverware arranged perfectly beside them.

A bottle of chilled sparkling water stood in the center, and the faint crackle of the stovetop added a soothing rhythm to the room.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time. He should be home any minute now.

You adjusted the flame under the pot, letting the stew bubble gently, and moved to check on the freshly baked bread cooling on the counter.

The sound of the front door opening broke the quiet, followed by the rustling of heavy boots on the doormat.

Your heart gave a small flutter at the familiar noise.

He was home.

You didn’t look up from your task, your focus fixed on the pot as you gave it one last stir.

Toward the front door, the faint creak of the door closing reached your ears, followed by the soft thud of a duffle bag hitting the floor.

Bakugo’s presence filled the space immediately, even without a word.

The faint scent of smoke and ash mingled with the aroma of dinner, a signature of his return after a long day on patrol.

You heard the stretch of leather as he raised his arms high above his head, likely working out the stiffness from hours of action.

His footsteps echoed softly against the hardwood floor as he made his way down the hall.

You could picture him rubbing the back of his neck, his hair likely a mess from the day’s exertion.

The sound of his approach grew louder, each step deliberate yet unhurried, as if he were easing back into the calm of home.

You stayed at the stove, stirring slowly, waiting for him to join you in the kitchen, the moment of connection hanging in the air like the steam rising from the pot.

The clatter of the wooden spoon against the pot ceased as you set it down gently on the counter.

Wiping your hands on the apron tied snugly around your waist, you turned toward the kitchen's pillared entrance.

The soft shuffle of Bakugo’s steps nearing the kitchen tugged at your curiosity, and you couldn’t help but abandon your task momentarily.

You stepped around the corner, leaning casually against the frame of the kitchen entrance.

Resting your hand lightly on the wall, you peeked out toward him.

The sight of Bakugo, mid-stretch with his arms behind his head, immediately brought a fond smile to your lips.

His usual scowl was softened by a tiredness that clung to him, his messy ash-blond hair catching the dim light of the hallway.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck, likely sore from a long day.

His broad shoulders rolled slightly as he worked out the tension, the faint sound of his knuckles popping filling the quiet space.

The corners of your lips curled further upward as you admired him in his element—worn out yet still exuding the confidence and strength you loved about him.

Before you could say anything, his crimson gaze lifted, finally catching sight of you standing there.

His expression didn’t shift much—just a subtle raise of his brows as if to acknowledge your presence.

You straightened slightly, your smile warm and inviting as you prepared to greet him.

But before you could utter a word, he spoke first, his gravelly voice breaking the silence.

“I’m going upstairs to shower. Gotta get this grime off my body.” His tone was matter-of-fact, and he started walking toward you without breaking stride, cracking his knuckles as he moved.

Your smile didn’t falter as he approached, though the hurriedness of his words made you hesitate. “Oh, well, that’s great,” you began, your voice light and teasing. “But don’t take too long becau—”

“Oh yeah, by the way, before I forget,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through yours without a hint of malice, just his usual bluntness. “The gang and I are gonna hang out later, so I won’t be home for long.”

The abruptness of his words hit you like a splash of cold water. Your mouth hung slightly open mid-sentence, the rest of your words caught in your throat.

Bakugo’s gaze didn’t linger long, already focused ahead as though his announcement was nothing out of the ordinary.

Bakugo’s heavy boots thudded softly against the wooden floor as he approached you, his expression unreadable but relaxed.

He stopped just in front of you, his tall frame towering slightly over yours.

The familiar scent of ash and sweat lingered faintly, a testament to his grueling day.

Without a word, his hand reached out, rough but warm, and landed gently on your head.

His fingers ruffled through your hair in a way that was both playful and dismissive, tousling it slightly.

A light smirk played on his lips as he pulled his hand back, his crimson eyes meeting yours briefly.

“I know you can handle things here, so I’ll leave you to it,” he said, his voice low and casual, like he hadn’t just brushed past the idea of spending time with you.

As you stood out in front of him, the confidence and courage you had gathered from cooking in the kitchen had disappeared.

Now that you felt this way, there was no way you were going to bring up spending time with him over dinner.

Even though you had spent all evening preparing this relaxing for the both of you to enjoy, you couldn’t bring yourself to to tell him.

You were scared that if you had opened up, he might have gotten angry and dismissed all your worries with his furrowed brows.

Your heart sank a little at his words, but you forced a small smile, not wanting to let it show.

He turned on his heel without a second glance, his footsteps carrying him toward the staircase that led to the second floor of your shared home.

As he walked, his broad shoulders swayed slightly, his relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the tension that suddenly gripped your chest.

You stood frozen for a moment, your mouth hanging slightly open, the words you wanted to say stuck somewhere in your throat.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked rapidly, willing them away. You hated how they burned, how they threatened to spill over.

This wasn’t the first time Bakugo had brushed things off, but tonight, with the effort you’d put into dinner and the mounting distance you felt between you two, it stung more than usual.

He reached the first step of the staircase, his hand brushing against the railing as he prepared to ascend.

At you stood, something inside you snapped—a small but resolute voice urging you not to let the moment slip by.

Swallowing hard, you gathered the courage you had left, your voice trembling slightly but steady enough to cut through the air.

“Can I go too?”

Bakugo paused mid-step, his back still facing you, as the silence stretched between you both.

For a moment, you wondered if he had even heard you or if he’d continue up the stairs without a response.

Then, he turned his head slightly, revealing his side profile, his crimson eyes glancing at you.

“You wanna come?” he asked, his tone even and unreadable, a single brow raised in surprise.

Your hands instinctively came together, fidgeting as you avoided his gaze.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Gathering a bit more courage, you glanced up at him, noticing his blank expression.

It only lasted a second before you looked down again, unsure how your request would be received. “I mean, if that’s okay…”

Bakugo stared at you for a beat longer, his brow still raised as if trying to gauge your seriousness.

Then, his features softened, his raised brow lowering as he gave a small, nonchalant nod.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” he said, his voice carrying a casualness that made it hard to tell how he really felt.

Without another word, he turned back toward the stairs.

Relief washed over you, and a small smile crept onto your face as you followed his movements with your eyes.

It wasn’t much, but his agreement made you feel a little better, a small step toward closing the gap that had been forming between you two.

As Bakugo reached the first step of the staircase, he stopped again, his hand on the railing.

He turned his head just enough to look back at you, his expression neutral but firm.

“I’m leaving by 6, so get ready,” he said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Then, without waiting for a response, he ascended the stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing through the quiet house.

You stood there in the kitchen, your smile slowly fading as his words sank in.

Glancing at the half-finished dinner you’d worked so hard on, your arms dropped to your sides, mirroring the exhaustion settling in your chest.

The kitchen felt colder now, emptier, as you stood there alone, staring at the plans you’d made that now felt insignificant.

With a deep breath, you tried to shake off the weight of disappointment, forcing yourself to move and tidy up the counter.

But no matter how much you willed yourself to focus on the task at hand, the sting of his casual dismissal lingered, leaving a quiet ache in its wake.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The soft hum of the Porsche's engine filled the quiet evening air as Bakugo sat in the driver’s seat, his hand drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel.

His gaze occasionally flicked toward the house, his sharp crimson eyes scanning for any sign of you.

The minutes ticked by, and though he didn’t say it out loud, he was growing impatient.

But there was a part of him that understood why you were taking your time—he had sprung this last-minute outing on you, and you deserved a moment to get ready properly.

Inside, you were slipping on your white Converse, carefully tying the laces with precision.

The finishing touch to your outfit had just been added—a chic combination of blue jeans, a navy blue tank top, and a white cardigan that fell perfectly against your frame.

You smoothed down the fabric, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror by the door.

Your navy blue purse rested comfortably on your shoulder, and the messy bun you’d styled earlier sat perfectly atop your head, with the white headband completing the look.

Satisfied, you grabbed your keys and reached for the door handle.

As you stepped outside, the soft glow of the porch light illuminated your figure.

The evening air was cool against your skin, and the faint scent of freshly cut grass lingered.

You glanced toward the sleek black Porsche parked in the driveway, where Bakugo sat waiting for you.

Inside the car, Bakugo looked up as the light from the open door seeped out, drawing his attention.

His sharp gaze landed on you, and for a moment, his breath hitched.

You looked stunning—effortlessly chic yet understated, the kind of beauty that didn’t need to try too hard.

The way the soft curls framed your face, the navy blue of your tank top complementing your skin, and the casual elegance of your outfit made his heart skip a beat.

He blinked, trying to maintain his usual composure, but the faintest tint of pink crept onto his cheeks, betraying him.

It was subtle, just enough to hint at the effect you had on him, but it was there.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly as he tore his eyes away for a brief second, trying to recover.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, glancing at the dashboard as if it could somehow distract him.

But his gaze inevitably drifted back to you, his expression softening in a way only you could bring out in him.

He didn't say anything just yet—he wasn’t the type to gush—but the way his cheeks betrayed a rare blush spoke volumes.

The soft hum of the Porsche’s engine was steady as Bakugo sat, his hand draped nonchalantly over the steering wheel while the other rested against his mouth.

His sharp crimson eyes flicked away from you as you descended the steps toward the car, trying to keep his focus elsewhere.

The blush that had crept onto his cheeks earlier lingered faintly, and though he wouldn’t admit it, seeing you like this had thrown him off his usual composure.

You opened the passenger door with care, stepping into the car and adjusting yourself in the plush seat.

The faint scent of Bakugo’s cologne mingled with the new-car smell, giving the cabin a warmth that was uniquely him.

As you closed the door gently behind you, you glanced up to see him leaning against the driver’s side, his elbow propped on the car door and his hand casually gripping the wheel.

His relaxed posture was natural, but the way his eyes darted toward you from the corners of his vision betrayed a subtle curiosity.

“Sorry I took so long,” you said softly, brushing a loose curl behind your ear.

Your voice broke the quiet tension, and you weren’t sure if you imagined his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

“It’s fine,” he replied, his tone gruff yet calm, as he adjusted himself in the seat and placed both hands on the wheel.

Hearing the simplicity of his response made you smile, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest.

You carefully removed your bag from your shoulder, placing it neatly on your lap.

Bakugo, meanwhile, shifted the car into reverse, the soft rumble of the engine vibrating beneath you as he backed out of the driveway with precision.

You stole a quick glance at him from the corners of your eyes.

The streetlights outside cast a warm, golden hue that framed his sharp jawline and stern features as he focused on maneuvering the car.

He looked so effortlessly confident, so in control—it was hard not to admire him.

Reaching up, you flipped open the vanity mirror above your head, giving yourself a quick once-over.

You smoothed down a stray curl and checked your lipstick, making sure everything was still in place.

Satisfied, you closed the mirror with a soft click and adjusted in your seat, letting your gaze wander back to him.

The quiet of the ride was broken only by the sound of the tires rolling over asphalt and the faint hum of the radio playing low in the background.

You bit your lip lightly, debating whether or not to say what had been on your mind.

Finally, you took a small breath, your fingers beginning to fidget nervously with the strap of your bag.

“Sooo…” you began, your voice tentative as you glanced out the window, gathering your thoughts.

Bakugo didn’t respond immediately, his focus remaining on the road ahead. His silence urged you to continue, so you did.

“How do I look?” you asked, your tone light yet tinged with curiosity.

Your gaze flickered toward him briefly before quickly looking back down at your lap, where your fingers continued to toy with your bag strap.

The quiet hum of the car filled the space between you and Bakugo, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

His eyes were fixed on the road, one hand on the wheel, while the other rested lazily on the gear shift.

You waited patiently, watching him through your peripheral vision, hoping for some kind of reaction to your question.

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze momentarily darting toward you before returning to the street ahead.

The streetlights flickered as they passed, casting warm, golden hues across his sharp features.

His silence stretched on, and for a moment, you wondered if he hadn’t heard you.

Finally, Bakugo turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes flickering toward you.

His gaze traveled up and down, taking in the effort you’d put into your outfit—the way your cardigan fell over your tank top, the way your jeans fit perfectly, and the way you’d styled your hair just so.

His expression remained stoic, but his eyes lingered just a beat longer than usual before he turned back to the road.

“You look,” he began, his voice even though there was a slight edge of hesitation.

He glanced at you again, briefly meeting your expectant gaze before focusing back on the street.

You could see his jaw tighten slightly, as if he were searching for the right words. “Good.”

That was it. Just one single, lackluster word.

Your shoulders sank immediately, the corners of your mouth pulling down as disappointment washed over you.

You slumped back into the passenger seat, crossing your arms loosely over your chest and shifting your gaze out the window.

You had spent so much time getting ready, hoping that maybe this time, he’d notice—really notice—and say something that would make you feel special.

But “good” was all you got.

Bakugo, on the other hand, was far from unaffected, though he certainly didn’t show it.

His mind was racing, replaying the moment he’d glanced at you and the way your face had lit up with hope.

His knuckles tightened slightly on the steering wheel, and a bead of sweat formed at his temple as frustration with himself began to build.

His brows furrowed as he stole another glance at you.

You were staring out the window now, your expression unreadable but your body language screaming disappointment.

“Tch,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the wheel tighter.

You remained quiet, sinking further into your seat as the car rolled through the neighborhood streets.

Your fingers toyed with the edge of your cardigan, your mind replaying the moment over and over.

Maybe you’d set yourself up for disappointment.

Maybe this was just who he was—gruff, blunt, and not the type to shower you with compliments.

Still, you couldn’t help the small ache in your chest.

Bakugo’s jaw clenched as he continued to drive, the silence between you both growing heavier with each passing second.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The drive to Kirishima’s house was silent, the tension lingering like an unspoken weight between you and Bakugo.

He didn’t try to make conversation, and honestly, you weren’t sure you’d be able to respond even if he did.

Your disappointment sat heavy in your chest, though you were doing your best to push it down and keep your composure.

When the car finally rolled to a stop in front of Kirishima’s house, Bakugo shifted into park and stepped out without a word, slamming his door behind him.

You sighed softly, your fingers gripping the strap of your purse as you reached for the handle of the passenger door.

Opening it, you slid out of the car, closing it gently behind you.

Bakugo was already several steps ahead, his strong strides carrying him toward the house without so much as a glance back at you.

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight as you followed behind him, your fingers nervously playing with the strap of your purse.

You felt small and distant, the space between you and Bakugo feeling far more than just physical.

As Bakugo reached the front porch, the sound of laughter and chatter drifted through the air, spilling out from behind the closed door.

The lively atmosphere of the gathering inside only seemed to amplify the quiet distance you felt from him.

Bakugo raised a hand and knocked on the door firmly, stepping back slightly as he waited.

You stopped a few paces behind him, your hands gripping your purse strap tightly as your mind raced.

You were determined to stand tall, to keep your emotions in check and not let anyone see how you were feeling.

The door swung open after a few seconds, revealing Kirishima’s grinning face.

His red hair was as wild as ever, and his cheerful energy was almost infectious.

“Yo, man! You made it!” Kirishima greeted Bakugo with a hearty slap on the shoulder before turning his attention to you. “Hey! Good to see you too!”

“Hey, Kiri,” you said softly, forcing a small smile as you stepped closer to the door.

“Come on in! Everyone’s already here,” Kirishima said, stepping aside to let the two of you in.

You followed Bakugo inside, the warmth and energy of the room enveloping you immediately.

Mina, Jirou, Denki, and Sero were sprawled out in the living room, laughing and chatting amongst themselves.

Mina was the first to notice your arrival, her eyes lighting up as she waved enthusiastically.

“Hey, you two!” Mina called out, jumping up from her seat and rushing over to you.

She wrapped you in a quick hug, her bubbly personality as bright as always. “You look so cute tonight! I love your outfit!”

“Thanks, Mina,” you replied, your smile faltering slightly as you glanced toward Bakugo.

He was already making his way toward the group, offering a brief nod of acknowledgment before settling into a seat near Sero.

Denki grinned, leaning back on the couch and tossing a chip into his mouth. “Look who finally decided to show up. We thought you might’ve bailed on us, Bakugo.”

“Shut it, Sparky,” Bakugo shot back, though there was no real bite in his tone.

As the group erupted into laughter, you found yourself lingering near the edge of the room, unsure where to place yourself.

Mina noticed your hesitation and grabbed your arm gently.

“Come sit with us! You can’t just stand there looking all pretty and quiet,” she teased, leading you toward the group.

You let her guide you, settling into a spot on the couch beside Jirou.

The lively conversation around you was a stark contrast to the swirling emotions in your chest, but you did your best to blend in, laughing when it felt appropriate and nodding along to the banter.

All the while, your eyes occasionally flicked toward Bakugo.

He was laughing with Sero and Denki, his usual gruff demeanor softened slightly by the presence of his friends.

But not once did he look your way, and that small detail gnawed at you more than you wanted to admit.

You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to focus on the moment and not the ache in your chest.

Tonight was about being with friends, and you were determined to make the most of it, even if things with Bakugo felt more complicated than ever.

You sat on the couch, nestled between Jirou and Mina, trying to focus on their lively conversation.

Bakugo was across the room, laughing with Sero and Denki as if the weight of the world didn’t exist.

You glanced at him briefly, your chest tightening before quickly averting your eyes back to Mina, who was animatedly recounting a story about a recent date with Kirishima.

“So, get this,” Mina said, her face lit with excitement. “Kiri and I went to this new arcade last week, right? And they had this claw machine he swore he could beat. It was filled with these little red dragon plushies—totally his thing, you know?”

Jirou smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Let me guess. He spent way too much money trying to win one?”

“Way too much!” Mina exclaimed, throwing her hands up dramatically. “But he finally got it, and he was so proud of himself. It was adorable.” She giggled, her expression softening.

“Honestly, though, it’s not even about the claw machine. Kiri and I just… we have fun, you know? We go out, we talk about everything.”

Jirou nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s exactly how it is with me and Denki. He’s a dork, but he’s my dork. We go to concerts, hang out at record stores, and just… talk. Like, really talk. He tells me about his day, his dreams, even the dumb stuff that happens during patrols. It’s nice, being so connected.”

The warmth in their voices as they spoke about their relationships was palpable, and it made you feel like a shadow in their light.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly hyper-aware of the tightness in your throat.

“And you,” Mina said, turning her bright eyes toward you. “How are things with you and Bakugo?”

Jirou tilted her head, her expression curious but kind. “Yeah, how’s it going? You two seem solid.”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out at first.

Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your cardigan, and you forced a smile, even as your chest felt like it was caving in.

“Oh, we’re fine,” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. You cleared your throat quickly, trying to steady yourself. “Everything’s good. Really good.”

Mina beamed. “That’s great! You two are like, the power couple. I mean, he’s Bakugo—grumpy as hell but so in love with you. It’s obvious.”

“Totally,” Jirou added, nodding. “You balance each other out, right? He’s all intensity, and you’re like this calming presence. It works.”

You laughed softly, the sound hollow to your own ears. “Yeah, it works,” you echoed.

They bought it, smiling warmly at you before diving back into their own banter.

But inside, you felt like you were crumbling.

The truth was, things weren’t fine.

They hadn’t been for a while. Bakugo’s constant focus on work, his friends, and his own world had left you feeling like an afterthought.

You glanced at him again.

He was leaning back in his chair, laughing at something Denki said, his sharp features softened by the rare smile on his face.

It was a side of him you loved, but right now, it only made the ache in your chest worse.

Forcing yourself to stay present, you turned back to Mina and Jirou, nodding along to their conversation.

You couldn’t let them see the truth—not here, not now.

So you plastered on your smile and pretended everything was fine, even as the weight of your unspoken feelings threatened to crush you.

---

An hour passed as you, Mina, and Jirou chatted away about everything under the sun—relationships, patrol stories, and even a hilarious moment when Denki shocked himself trying to fix a broken lamp.

Despite the warmth of their company, a small part of you still felt detached, your earlier feelings lingering like a shadow.

Mina, ever the bubbly one, suddenly perked up. “Hey, I just thought of something! Let’s go to the other room and watch a movie! I’ve been dying to see that new romance everyone’s talking about. What do you think?”

Jirou shrugged, a hint of a smile on her face. “Sounds good to me. I could use a break from all the noise out there.”

You hesitated, but the thought of getting away from the others, even for a little while, seemed appealing. “Yeah, sure,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

The three of you made your way to a quieter room down the hall.

It was cozier than the bustling main area, with soft lighting and a plush couch that wrapped around most of the room.

The atmosphere immediately felt more intimate and calm, a perfect escape.

Mina grabbed the remote and flopped onto one side of the couch. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road!”

Jirou settled next to her, her legs tucked beneath her while you took the other end of the couch.

The movie started, its opening scenes filled with charming banter and budding romance.

The three of you fell into a comfortable silence, the story drawing you in.

As the movie progressed, the lighthearted moments gave way to more emotional scenes.

The characters faced challenges, their love tested by misunderstandings and miscommunications.

Then, the pivotal scene arrived.

The male lead stood in the rain, his face etched with regret as he argued with the female lead.

Her voice broke as she shouted, tears streaming down her face. “You don’t get it! I feel invisible to you!” she cried, her words hitting too close to home for your comfort.

Your chest tightened as you watched her crumble, her emotions raw and unfiltered.

The male lead, realizing his mistake, stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she sobbed against his chest.

Your heart ached, the scene striking a chord that you couldn’t ignore.

The floodgates opened, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face.

Your breathing grew shallow, and your palms began to sweat as you clutched the couch cushion beside you.

Mina and Jirou, engrossed in the movie, didn’t seem to notice your reaction at first.

But as you sniffled quietly, Jirou glanced over, her expression softening. “Hey, you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle.

You quickly wiped your cheeks, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… really emotional,” you said, your voice wavering slightly.

Mina turned her head, concern flickering in her eyes. “It’s okay to cry, you know. Scenes like this get me every time,” she said, offering you a reassuring smile.

You nodded, appreciating their kindness but feeling exposed nonetheless.

The movie continued, but your mind was elsewhere.

The female lead’s words echoed in your head, intertwining with your own unspoken feelings.

“I feel invisible to you.”

The weight of those words settled in your chest, and though you tried to focus on the screen, the tears wouldn’t stop.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep it together, but the truth was, you felt more vulnerable than ever.

The tears came harder, no longer quiet sniffles but soft, trembling sobs that you couldn’t hold back.

The scene on the screen blurred as your vision clouded with tears, and your chest felt impossibly heavy.

Mina and Jirou both turned toward you, their expressions shifting from casual concern to alarm.

“Whoa, hey… are you okay?” Jirou asked, leaning closer, her voice gentle but tinged with worry.

Mina’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line.

She grabbed the remote and paused the movie, the room falling into silence except for your shaky breaths.

She scooted closer to you, her hand resting lightly on your arm.

“Alright,” Mina said firmly, her tone serious but warm. “What’s going on? This isn’t just about the movie, is it?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to wipe the tears away with the back of your hand, but they just kept coming.

“It’s nothing,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jirou gave you a skeptical look. “Come on, don’t do that. You’re obviously upset.”

Mina nodded, her grip on your arm tightening just slightly in encouragement. “Yeah, we’re here for you. So whatever it is, just say it.”

For a moment, you hesitated.

The lump in your throat made it hard to speak, and you didn’t want to burden them with your feelings.

But the way they looked at you, genuinely concerned and ready to listen, broke down the last of your defenses.

“It’s… it’s Bakugo,” you finally admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks. “I just… I feel like we’re drifting apart.”

Mina’s eyes softened, and Jirou tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful.

“What do you mean? Did something happen?” Mina asked, leaning forward, her tone gentle now.

You took a shaky breath, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. “I don’t know… it’s like he’s always so busy, and when he’s home, it’s like I’m not even there. He doesn’t notice when I try to do things for him. I cooked dinner tonight, hoping we could eat together and talk, but he just brushed it off and left to hang out with you guys.”

Mina’s face fell, a pang of guilt crossing her features. Jirou’s lips pressed together, her brow furrowing.

“I know he’s a hero, and I know his job is demanding, but… I just feel so invisible to him sometimes. Like I’m not a priority,” you continued, your voice trembling. “And I’m trying so hard to be okay with it, but it’s just… it’s hard.”

Mina reached for your hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t realize things were like this.”

Jirou nodded, her gaze serious. “That sounds really tough. You shouldn’t have to feel like that, especially not with someone who’s supposed to care about you.”

You sniffled, grateful for their support, but still feeling the weight of your emotions. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I love him, but… it feels like he’s slipping away.”

Mina wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a comforting hug. “You’re not alone in this, okay? We’ll figure it out. And honestly, Bakugo needs to hear this too. He probably doesn’t even realize how much he’s hurting you.”

Jirou nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s not exactly the most emotionally aware guy, but he cares about you. You just have to tell him how you feel.”

Their words brought a small measure of comfort, but the thought of confronting Bakugo about your feelings still terrified you.

You knew they were right, though. Something had to change.

You sat there in Mina’s embrace, your tears slowly subsiding, though your chest still felt tight.

The weight of their words lingered, and you knew they were right.

As terrifying as it seemed, you had to talk to Bakugo.

But how? He wasn’t exactly the type to sit down and have a heart-to-heart.

Mina pulled back slightly, her warm hands resting on your shoulders as she looked you in the eye. “You have to tell him,” she said firmly.

“And not in a ‘hinting’ kind of way. Lay it all out. He’s not good at picking up subtle stuff.”

Jirou nodded, leaning back on the couch. “Yeah, Bakugo’s not gonna magically figure it out. But if you’re honest with him, I think he’ll listen. He’s stubborn, but he’s not heartless.”

You sniffled, wiping your face with the sleeve of your cardigan. “I just… I don’t want to come off as needy or like I don’t support him. I know how hard he works.”

Mina sighed, shaking her head. “Girl, no. This isn’t about being needy. This is about being in a relationship where you feel seen and loved. You’re allowed to have needs, too.”

Jirou added, “And honestly? If he doesn’t get that, then that’s on him. Relationships are about both people putting in effort. It’s not all on you.”

You nodded slowly, their words sinking in.

It wasn’t easy to hear, but deep down, you knew they were right.

You couldn’t keep bottling everything up and hoping things would magically improve.

Mina smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Look, Bakugo might be a hothead, but he’s not a bad guy. If he knew you were feeling this way, I think he’d do something about it. But you’ve got to give him the chance to step up.”

You sighed, fiddling with the strap of your purse. “I guess I’ll try talking to him later… when we’re alone.”

“Good,” Mina said with a nod, her tone encouraging. “And if you need backup, you know where to find us.”

Jirou smirked slightly. “Yeah, we’ll set him straight if he doesn’t get the message.”

The three of you shared a small laugh, the tension easing just a bit.

Mina grabbed the remote and turned the movie off completely, standing up and stretching.

“Alright, let’s get back to the others before they start wondering what we’re up to.”

You nodded, standing up and smoothing out your clothes.

As the three of you made your way back to the main living room, you felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you.

Anxiety, hope, and determination all competed for space in your heart.

As you stepped into the room, Bakugo was standing near the corner with Kirishima, laughing at something Sero had said.

His usual sharp smirk was etched on his face, but there was something different in the way his eyes flickered toward you, a hint of something unreadable beneath his confident exterior.

For a moment, you just watched him, debating how you’d navigate the rest of the evening while the conversation with Mina and Jirou still echoed in your mind.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Bakugo had heard everything.

It wasn’t intentional.

On his way to the bathroom earlier, he had walked past the closed door of the cozy room where you and the girls had been talking.

At first, he hadn’t thought much of it—just chatter from Mina and Jirou, nothing unusual.

But then he caught the sound of your voice, trembling slightly, and his feet had stopped.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Really, he hadn’t.

But something in your tone made him pause, leaning against the hallway wall just out of sight.

He listened as Mina and Jirou pressed you about how things were going between the two of you.

He heard the way your voice wavered when you said everything was fine—so unconvincing that even he could tell it was a lie.

And then came the confession.

You weren’t happy.

You felt ignored, neglected.

You felt like he didn’t see you anymore.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

You, the person he cared about most, felt like you were slipping away, and he hadn’t even noticed.

His knuckles clenched, and his jaw tightened as he leaned his head back against the wall.

Guilt surged through him, hot and unrelenting. He wasn’t great with emotions; he knew that.

But hearing you spill your heart out to your friends, feeling like he didn’t care enough—it stung more than he wanted to admit.

When Mina and Jirou encouraged you to talk to him, he heard the hesitation in your voice, the fear of being seen as needy or overbearing.

It made his chest ache. You should never feel like that—not with him.

He had walked away before you left the room, needing a moment to collect himself.

By the time he rejoined the group, his mind was racing.

As you stepped into the living room, Mina nudged you gently with her elbow. “You’ve got this,” she whispered before heading to the group, leaving you to take a deep breath and square your shoulders.

Bakugo, standing near the corner, glanced your way.

His sharp smirk remained, but his eyes lingered on you a little longer than usual, softening for the briefest second before he turned back to Kirishima and the others.

He didn’t say anything, but in the back of his mind, he was already planning.

He wouldn’t let you feel like this again. Not if he could help it.

---

The night had wound down, and one by one, everyone began saying their goodbyes.

Mina and Kirishima gave you tight hugs, Mina giving you a reassuring smile as if to silently remind you of the conversation you’d had.

Jirou patted your arm, her subtle way of showing she was rooting for you.

Bakugo, meanwhile, was his usual self—casual nods, a few gruff “See ya’s,” and a fist bump for Kirishima.

His energy seemed as steady as ever, though you noticed the way his eyes flickered toward you more than once, a slight crease in his brow that he didn’t quite hide.

As the two of you made your way to his car, the quietness of the night enveloped you.

The cool breeze brushed against your skin, and the sound of your shoes crunching against the gravel filled the silence.

You felt Bakugo’s presence ahead of you, his confident stride unchanging, though he occasionally glanced back to make sure you were keeping up.

When you reached the car, he pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked the doors, and slid into the driver’s seat.

You followed, gently closing the passenger door behind you and placing your bag on the floor by your feet.

The faint scent of leather and his cologne filled the space, a scent you usually found comforting.

Without a word, Bakugo started the engine.

The low rumble of the car filled the stillness as he pulled out of the driveway and onto the street.

His hands rested on the wheel, firm but relaxed, his eyes trained on the road ahead.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, trying to read his expression, but it was the same stoic mask he always wore.

The weight of the evening felt heavy in your chest, and despite the warmth of the car, you felt a chill run through you.

The drive was quiet at first, the soft hum of the engine the only sound between you.

You wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt stuck in your throat.

You fidgeted with your fingers, your gaze shifting between the passing streetlights outside and Bakugo’s profile.

He hadn’t said much since you left Kirishima’s house, and it left you wondering if he’d noticed the distance between you—or if it even mattered to him at all.

Bakugo’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel as he drove, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he was working through something in his mind.

His gaze remained steady, but every now and then, you noticed his eyes flicker toward you, though he said nothing.

The silence was deafening, and with every passing second, it felt like the space between you grew larger.

Finally, unable to take the tension anymore, you shifted in your seat and let out a soft sigh, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Thanks for driving,” you said, your tone polite but distant.

He grunted in response, a low “Yeah,” his focus still on the road.

The quiet settled again, heavier this time, and you found yourself staring out the window, the lights of the city blurring past.

You wanted to say more, to breach the gap between you, but something held you back.

Bakugo, meanwhile, stole another glance at you, his expression unreadable.

He wanted to speak, to address the weight in the air, but the words felt foreign to him.

For now, he just drove, the road stretching ahead, both of you caught in your own thoughts.

The car hummed softly as the city lights flickered past, but the silence between you and Bakugo felt louder than anything else.

You leaned your head against the cool glass of the window, your eyes fixed on the blurred scenery.

Your hand rested on your lap, fingers nervously fidgeting with your nails as your thoughts raced.

What had started as disappointment had now spiraled into uncertainty.

You couldn’t shake the weight of the conversation with Mina and Jirou, nor the growing chasm between you and Bakugo.

You’d tried so hard to keep it together, but being here, so close yet feeling so far, made it even harder.

Bakugo kept his eyes on the road, his grip on the wheel firm.

Inside, he was battling a storm of emotions.

The echoes of your words from earlier replayed in his mind, mingling with the snippets of the conversation he’d overheard at Kirishima’s.

“I just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”

He wasn’t good with words.

Hell, he wasn’t even good at feelings most of the time. But he wasn’t stupid—he could feel the distance, and it frustrated him because he didn’t know how to close it.

His crimson eyes flickered to you briefly.

The way you sat there, so quiet and withdrawn, tugged at something deep in his chest.

He hated seeing you like this, especially knowing he’d been the one to make you feel this way.

After what felt like forever, Bakugo’s resolve finally cracked.

His hand hesitated on the wheel, fingers tightening for a moment before he let out a sharp breath.

Slowly, almost cautiously, he reached over.

His hand covered yours, warm and slightly rough, the weight of it grounding you.

You blinked, startled by the sudden contact, and turned your head to look at him.

Bakugo didn’t meet your gaze right away.

His eyes stayed focused on the road ahead, his jaw tight, like he was bracing himself for something.

His thumb shifted slightly, brushing against your fingers in an awkward but earnest gesture.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, almost hesitant. “Stop doin’ that.”

You stared at him, confused. “Doing what?”

“Fidgetin’ like that,” he muttered, finally glancing at you for a split second before looking back at the road. “You’ll mess up your nails or somethin’.”

His words were gruff, almost dismissive, but the way his hand stayed on yours told you there was more to it.

He wasn’t just talking about your fidgeting—he was trying, in his own clumsy way, to tell you he cared.

Your chest tightened as you looked down at your joined hands.

The warmth of his touch, the slight awkwardness of the gesture—it all made your emotions bubble up again, but this time, they weren’t as heavy.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction. “Don’t say it. Not here, not like this.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, and leaned back against the seat.

For the first time that evening, the silence between you didn’t feel quite as suffocating.

The car came to an abrupt stop at a red light, but the tension in the car felt like it had slammed into a wall at full speed.

Bakugo’s hand hovered over the wheel, his knuckles white as he gripped it.

His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, but your anger was a storm now, and it couldn’t be contained.

“Seriously?” you demanded, your voice sharp and trembling. “If not here, then where? If not now, then when?”

Your hand yanked away from his, the warmth of his touch replaced by the cold sting of frustration. “You always say that, Bakugo. You always brush our problems away. You… you brush me off like I’m some kind of bug.”

His eyes darted to you, his lips parting as if to defend himself, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“You treat me like I’m not worth your time,” you continued, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Do you even know what I was doing before you came home? I was cooking dinner. For you. For us.”

Your hands shook as you gestured toward him, your words pouring out in a rush. “I did all of that so we could talk, so we could try to fix this. Just so I could know—know for sure—that I mean something to you.”

The light turned green, and Bakugo hit the gas with a little more force than necessary, his jaw tight as he stayed silent.

But you couldn’t stop now.

“But of course,” you spat, your voice rising, “your friends are more important! Work, training, hangouts—all of it is more important than me!”

The car swerved slightly as Bakugo’s grip faltered, and he shot you a glance, his brows furrowed in frustration and guilt. “But they’re not! You’re more important—”

“Don’t give me that crap!” you cut him off, your voice almost a shout now. “If I’m so important, then why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you make time for everyone and everything else but not for me? Huh? Answer me!”

Bakugo’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His silence was deafening, and it only stoked the fire inside you.

“Why, Katsuki?” you pressed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Why do I have to fight so hard to feel like I matter to you?”

The car pulled into your driveway, and Bakugo threw it into park, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly it looked like he might snap it in two.

For a moment, the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the faint hum of the engine.

Finally, Bakugo exhaled sharply and turned to you, his crimson eyes filled with a mixture of guilt, frustration, and something else—something softer, something that looked a lot like regret.

“You do matter,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You mean everything to me, damn it. I just… I don’t know how to show it.”

But you shook your head, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “That’s not enough, Katsuki. It’s not enough to just say it. I need to feel it. And right now, I don’t.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable, as Bakugo stared at you, his expression unreadable.

For once, the explosive hero had no words, and the silence between you felt like it could split the world in two.

Your chest heaved as the emotions you’d been holding in for so long spilled over.

Tears streamed down your face, your voice trembling and raw as you finally let everything out.

“Why couldn’t you have just spent time with me?” you cried, your voice breaking as your gaze locked on Bakugo.

He flinched at the pain in your voice but said nothing, his hands clenching into tight fists on his lap.

“Why couldn’t you see that while you were having fun, I was feeling miserable?!” you continued, your words cutting through the silence like shards of glass.

Bakugo’s eyes darted toward you, filled with a mix of guilt and helplessness, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

“Listen, Katsuki...” you began, your voice softer but no less intense. “I love you. So much it hurts.” Your words hung in the air, trembling with sincerity. “But it’s starting to feel like... like you don’t feel the same.”

His head snapped up at that, his crimson eyes wide and frantic. “That’s not true!” he blurted, his voice rough and unsteady. “Don’t—don’t say that, alright?”

But you shook your head, your tears falling harder now. “Then why does it feel like I’m always fighting for your attention? Fighting for a moment of your time?”

Your voice cracked, and you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, as if trying to hold yourself together.

Bakugo opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

His jaw tightened, and his gaze fell to his lap, his fingers gripping his knees so hard it looked painful.

You could see the frustration, the guilt, the turmoil swirling in his expression, but it wasn’t enough.

It didn’t fix the ache in your heart.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Like I’m not enough for you. Like I’m not your priority.”

Bakugo’s head snapped up again, his eyes blazing with emotion. “You are my priority!” he insisted, his voice desperate now.

“You’re everything to me, alright? I just... I just don’t know how to handle all this shit sometimes!”

His voice cracked at the end, and for the first time, you saw something in him you rarely did—vulnerability.

He looked at you like he wanted to say a million things but didn’t know where to start.

But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

“Then show me, Katsuki,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “If I mean so much to you, then show me. Because words aren’t enough anymore.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, the only sound in the car was the faint hum of the engine.

Bakugo looked at you, really looked at you, and for once, the explosive hero seemed completely lost.

Bakugo’s chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths as he stared at you, his crimson eyes shadowed with guilt and frustration.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to die in his throat.

His hands clenched tighter on his lap, and he turned his gaze to the steering wheel, as if looking at you was too much to bear.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again as you watched him struggle to say something—anything—that could make it better.

“You’re right,” he finally said, his voice low and strained. “I’ve been a shitty boyfriend.”

The admission startled you.

Your breath hitched, and you blinked through your tears as you waited for him to continue.

“I’ve been so focused on everything else—work, training, trying to keep up with everyone—that I didn’t realize what it was doing to you. To us.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, the motion rough and frustrated. “And that’s on me.”

His voice trembled slightly, and he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the sharp thud breaking the tense quiet. “Dammit, I didn’t mean to make you feel like this. Like you don’t matter.”

You watched him, your tears still falling, but something in his voice tugged at your heart.

It wasn’t just guilt; it was desperation.

“But you do, alright?” he said, turning to face you fully now. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, raw and unguarded.

“You matter more than anything else in my life. I just... I don’t know how to balance it all without screwing it up.”

His hands trembled as they rested on his thighs, and you realized how much it was costing him to admit this.

Bakugo Katsuki, the man who always seemed so sure of himself, so strong and unshakable, was unraveling in front of you.

“You’re not the problem, alright? I am,” he continued, his voice softer now. “And I swear to you, I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us. Just... don’t give up on me yet.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but the pain you’d been carrying for so long still lingered.

You looked at him, your tears blurring your vision, and took a shaky breath.

“Katsuki, I’m not asking for perfection,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m asking for you to try. To make me feel like I’m worth it. Like we’re worth it.”

He nodded, his jaw tight as he swallowed hard.

“I will,” he said, his voice firm despite the emotion in his eyes. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll be better. For you.”

You stared at him, searching his face for sincerity, and what you saw there made something in your chest loosen.

He looked at you like you were his whole world—like he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope. It was small, fragile, but it was there.

“Okay,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Bakugo nodded again, his eyes never leaving yours. “You can.”

The car fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn’t heavy or suffocating.

It was filled with unspoken promises, with the beginnings of something better.

And for now, that was enough.

---

Bakugo’s hand enveloped yours, firm yet gentle, as if he was anchoring himself to you.

The warmth of his grasp communicated what his words had struggled to convey earlier—a need, a desire to hold on to you no matter what.

The silence in the car was filled with unspoken understanding as you both sat there, the weight of the evening settling between you.

When the car finally pulled into your driveway, you barely had time to move before Bakugo was already out of the driver’s seat.

He strode purposefully around the car, his movements sharp yet filled with intent.

You blinked in surprise as he opened the passenger door, crouching down to your level.

His crimson eyes met yours, raw and unguarded. “You mean a lot to me,” he began, his voice steady but thick with emotion.

“So much... and I’m sorry for not showing you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words tumbled out, each one more heartfelt than the last.

“I’m sorry for not replying. I’m sorry for not being there. I’m sorry for not showing up,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly as he leaned closer.

“I promise, though, from now on... everything I do, I’ll do it with you on my mind.”

His hands found their way to your thighs, a touch so gentle and deliberate it sent a shiver through you.

It wasn’t just an apology—it was a plea, a vow.

“I promise you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “that from now on, I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel loved. So please, don’t give up on me. Please, don’t lose hope.”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his tone, the rawness of his confession.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you managed a small, wavering smile as you placed your hand over his.

“You swear?” you asked, your voice trembling with emotion.

His grip on your thigh tightened just slightly, his crimson eyes boring into yours with unwavering determination.

“I promise,” he said, his voice firm yet soft.

That was all you needed to hear.

A small, genuine smile spread across your lips as you nodded.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt the weight lifting off your chest.

After a moment, Bakugo stepped back slightly, holding out his hand to you.

You placed your hand in his, and he helped you out of the car with a gentleness that contrasted his usual brash demeanor.

Once you were both standing, he didn’t hesitate—he pulled you into a tight, almost desperate hug.

His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you as if he was afraid you’d slip away.

His head rested against your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your fingers threading gently through his spiky blonde hair.

“I missed you more,” he murmured against your shoulder, his voice low and filled with emotion.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the world around you fading into insignificance.

It was as if time had paused, giving you both a chance to reconnect, to heal.

When he finally pulled back, his hands still rested on your waist, and his gaze locked onto yours.

The intensity in his eyes took your breath away, and before you could say anything, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an apology, a promise, a declaration.

His lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as if to ground himself.

You responded just as passionately, pouring every ounce of love, frustration, and hope into the kiss.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together.

His crimson eyes softened as he looked at you, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

You smiled back, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

He chuckled softly, his voice lighter than it had been all evening. “I won’t. I swear.”

In that moment, standing together in the driveway under the soft glow of the porch light, you felt something shift between you.

A new beginning, built on honesty and love. And for the first time in a long time, you believed things could truly get better.

ADULT BAKUGO FANFICTION

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circe69 · 1 month ago

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“𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭“ - 𝐫.𝐬 𝐱 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐬!𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 🕯️

୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ who is it? - ryomen sukuna x plus!fem reader

୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ what is it? - academic rivals, true enemies to dirty lovers, smut, unprotected p in v, reader gets called "princess", sukuna's tatted, mentions of fatphobia, reader is insecure, but sukuna's down bad, needs those thick thighs, "fuck it" moment, he's a jealous lover.

୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ wc & an? - 3.2k, hi guys!!!! valentines special a little late? sry. enjoy.

"The class project will be graded on length, presentation, grammar-"

You tune out your teacher. This was the last period of the day. You were almost free. A smutty book, an iced coffee, and a quiet environment was waiting for you at home. Almost-

"And how well you work with your partner."

A quiet chatter broke out amongst the students around you. This was one of the biggest projects of the year, and from everything you'd heard from previous graduates, it was done independently.

"Yes, yes, I know. This is a new development," your teacher answered, "For this project, I will assign you to a partner. This partner," she emphasized, "is extremely important. You will spend hours upon hours with this person to complete the project. Are we clear?"

The class agrees in unison. As the teacher started rambling off names of who all would be paired up, you watched as multiple students either silently cheered or grimaced at their chosen partner.

"Last but not least, Y/N, you will be with,"

You crossed your fingers and squeezed your eyes shut.

"Ryomen. Sukuna."

Oh fuck no.

What the fu-

"Absolutely the fuck not," a loud, dark voice boomed from the back of the class.

And there he was. The bane of your existence, Ryomen Sukuna, standing up in retaliation. That pink fucking hair in all it's glory, dark tattoos marking almost every inch of skin, and that stupid letterman jacket he's always wearing.

"No way in hell I'll be with her," he exclaimed, his friends around him laughing. You turned around to look him in the eyes, and just as you figured, they were empty.

Sukuna was an all-star athlete. A basketball champion, the top of his class, a total knock-out. Everyone either wanted him or wanted to be him. He was technically perfect. Tall. Muscular. Fast. Smart.

Handsome.

Sure, you had a few wet dreams about him, every girl did. But you were you, shorter, quieter, chubbier, and couldn't play sports to save your life. He didn't give a fuck about you, but it's not like you even cared. You had something that he didn't.

Social fucking ettiequte.

The teacher took off her glasses and set them on her desk, "Partners are final, and so is this grade. No retakes, remakes or extra credit. Class on Monday begins the work period."

The bell rang, and everyone scurried out of class.

"It's not going to be that bad," your friend Cassie said across from the lunch table you were sitting at, "Yeah he's a complete dickhead, but you've dealt with worse! Remember Megumi from the first grade?"

All the girls around you groaned, "Bitch, he bit my fucking arm!" You laughed while Cassie shrugged.

"Look, all I know is that there's a nasty rumor going around that Sukuna only wants to be seen with thinner girls. Toned and skinny. And I mean," you paused to motion your hand down your body, "have you seen me? It's going to be a nightmare."

Another one of your friends, Nyla, speaks up, "First of all, you are not fat. You are curvy, got all the right stuff in the right places. Second of all, none of this even truly matters because you would've gotten an A if you'd been by yourself, you're definitely gonna ace it even with a little extra help."

You take a deep breath. Maybe it was going to be okay. I mean, it wouldn't be a walk in the park, but maybe Sukuna's misunderstood. Maybe nobody's given him a chance. He might even help you with this project, give you some great insight.

Misunderstood, my ass, you thought as you sat down reluctantly next to Sukuna. You slung your bag over the back of you chair and pulled out a pink notebook before flipping it open to a blank page. You expected him to say something, but silence filled the air between you as a clock ticked in the background.

You cleared your throat, "Alright, obviously there's no need for introductions since you've made it clear you are not fond of me," your words and peppery tone forced Sukuna to look up from the video game he was playing on his laptop. "And assuming this is a relatively safe space, I don't like you either. Never have. Quite frankly, you're a piece of shit."

Sukuna's eyes widened at your words before nervously chuckling and looking away. He leans close to you, and a strong scent of dark cologne wafts to you, "Do you really think I fucking care? Care about this class, care about you, care about any of this?" He whispered.

You smile sinisterly and whisper back, "It is literally so obvious that you don't care. Please, stop wasting your breath."

He rubs a hand down his face, laughing at just how fucking insane it is, the way you talk to him. All of the sudden, Sukuna raises a hand.

"Yes Ryomen?" Your teacher says.

He clears his throat, "Yeah, I was wondering if me and Y/N could actually go use one of the study rooms? We're getting a little distracted in here."

She sighed, "Yes, that's fine. Go ahead."

Sukuna jumped up, not even looking behind him to see if you were following. As the two of you exited the hallway, you tried to keep up with his long strides.

"Look, I don't know what your plan is, but it's probably a waste of time and this project isn't going to ace itse-"

Sukuna stopped and spun around, causing you to run right into his chest. You took a step back and leaned up to look him in his eyes. He pointed at the open conference room and whispered, "We are going to go inside that room, lock the door, and speak like civilized people. We're gonna work on the project, feel good about it, and leave early, because I have a party to go to tonight," your huff of annoyed laughter interrupted him, "That sound like a plan?"

You laughed as you walked into the room and turned on the lights, "Sure, Dad. Whatever."

Sukuna threw his books onto the table, "Damn it, you are so fucking annoying."

"What happened to civilized?" You rebutted, rounding the table while taking slow steps toward him.

"Oh, that went out the window the second I heard your name come outta our teacher's mouth, bitch."

The room went silent, Sukuna's breath hitched, your eyes saw red.

"The fuck did you just say?" You asked, taking a step closer to him.

He didn't know what to expect, what to say, he knew he just fucked up. But there was no going back now, and in his head, fucking up even more was his only option. Sukuna straightened his back and crossed his arms across his chest. Your toes were touching his, bodies too close, breath intertwining, but he leaned closer anyways, "I called you a bitch."

You shoved him. Hard. Against the wall behind him. A picture frame shook before falling on the floor. Sukuna made no reaction.

For some reason, tears started welling behind your eyes. Why was he so mean? Why did he have so many comebacks lined up? Why were you entertaining it? Why do you wish he was touching you back, even if it meant he'd hurt you?

You shoved again, this time a grunt escaped you. But his arms stayed in place, never reaching out. His body barely even moved from your force. What was happening? Why was the silent tension between you thick enough to cut into pieces? Your hands against his rough chest burned his skin through his clothes, and every singe screamed, "You shouldn't have said that."

As you shoved for a third time, and as a small cry came from your mouth in frustration, Sukuna's eyes changed. Even though you couldn't see it, every part of his body tensed and relaxed at the sight of your body failing itself. He could see you breaking down, and everyone around him would've told him to wind you up more. To enjoy it.

Before he could say anything else, you looked him in the eyes, "Fuck you," you spat, and grabbed your books before heading out of the conference room.

"Come to the party with us," Cassie said to you in the mirror as you watched her curl her hair. "It'll be fun! We'll get drinks, and dance, and you don't even have to stay for a long time. Say the word and I'll take you home."

It did sound appealing. The idea of a buzz, something to take your mind off of everything, loud music, wearing something cute, maybe talking to a guy.

Fuck it.

"Okay, fine. I'll go."

Cassie gasped, "Are you serious? Really?"

You nodded, and she squealed in delight, "Oh my gosh, I'll call Nyla. She's gonna freak. out." You laughed as she dialed in a few numbers in her phone. As Cassie held the phone up to her ear, you could hear the tone ringing, and Cassie whispered over her shoulder, "Go get dressed already!"

You forgot why you never used to go to parties, until you got to this one. Everything was so overstimulating, from the lights, to the smells, even your thighs sticking to every chair you sat on made it worse.

But you looked good. You knew it, and it had been a long time since you let yourself acknowledge it. A black mini dress that hugged all your curves, and lacy little thigh-highs. You were a goddess, a vision.

And every one seemed to agree. Especially Sukuna's friends.

"Damn, did you see the ass on her?" A white-haired basketball player nudged Sukuna's arm while talking to the rest of the team. As he turned around to see who he was talked about, he almost spit out his drink.

Fuck.

There you were.

Dancing underneath a blue beam of light, with your arms around your friends neck, your sweet hips swaying to the music. It was almost as if he could hear your raspy voice from where he stood, smell your vanilla perfume and sweet-like-cherries hair.

That dress was sinful. It was too tight, too short, too much for Sukuna to even handle, and suddenly, he could feel his blood turn hot at the thought that every single guy in this room is thinking the same thing.

Unfortunately, he was the last person you'd wanna hear it from.

He had always had a thing for you. Your kind words and quiet tone (to everyone but him) along with your overall angel-like appearance, the equation was sickeningly sweet. For years and years, he lifted up silent prayers to God that you'd be in his class the next semester. And they were always answered, only for him to never ever speak to you. So when the teacher said that you were going to be partners, he couldn't believe his ears. He had one chance, and he fucked it up, all because he didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, that the love he had for one girl was only met with hatred.

But as he made his way over to you, he ignored the blaring sirens in his head, all the thoughts that kept him up at night, all he heard was you.

Sukuna was right behind you, inches away. But he didn't want to touch you, not yet. He waited until you turned around and watched your eyes widen at the sight of him.

In this light, he was majestic, and you hated him for it.

The white tee shirt and dark-wash jeans were adding no help to your case, and a pair of black aviators rested upon his head. Every muscle, ridge, even the veins in his forearms, you wanted it all. And maybe it was the drinks, or maybe you were just so done denying it. You had always denied it.

He leaned down, "What are you doing here?"

You looked him in the eyes, "I'm dancing."

The song changed and lights faded to a deep red, and while bodies swirled around you, both you and Sukuna remained steady.

"I can see that." He cleared his throat and scanned his eyes down your figure, "Can practically see your whole ass, y'know."

"What d'you care, hm?"

You could see his molars grind against each other, his adams apple bobbing from a swallow. Just then, another guy comes up behind you and swirls an arm around your waist, "Hey, wanna dance?" You look at your suitor and smile slightly, so excited to see how this is going to play out.

"She's busy," Sukuna growled, and you rolled your eyes.

"Doesn't look like she's busy to me." The man's arm slithered away from your waist and moved so his hand was resting on your hip.

Sukuna was about to kill every single person at this party.

His inked hand reached out to your wrist and tugged you into his side, "Yeah well doesn't matter what it looks like, dumbass, she's fucking busy."

The strange man's hand on your hip was exchanged for Sukunas. The touch of his hand, something you'd thought of for years, dreamt of for longer, had finally reached you. And you hated how much it felt like something you'd been searching for forever.

"Sukuna," you shrieked, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He turned to face you, "Me? What's wrong with me?" His hand squeezed the flesh of your skin subconsciously.

"C'mere," he dragged you to the nearest bathroom, fleeing between bodies and furniture pushed to the side. He opened the door, and gently pushed you inside, shutting it behind him.

He didn't even bother to turn on the lights. You were surrounded by darkness, with the only exception being the strobe lights coming from under the door.

Sukuna's arm was still around your frame, but now, it feels different. Like he wants it to be there.

"You," he starts as his hands travel up and down your hips, "are so fucking distracting."

You can't see his eyes, but you know what they look like. They're not empty anymore. They're yearning, tired of waiting, impatient and hungry.

Sukuna backs you up against the bathroom counter, "So you're gonna have to forgive me for acting out of line out there, and at school, and all my life," his hand reached up to cup the back of your neck, "it's the least you can do for fucking me up."

And that was all you remembered before you felt his lips on yours. As violent as he was born, as scary as you thought he was, his tongue was gentle and forgiving as it pried between your lips. You couldn't help but let out a whimper before breaking the kiss.

"Wait, but I thought you didn't like heavier girls-"

"Who the fuck told you that, sweetheart?" He said against your mouth. You shrugged in response, "Just rumors, I guess."

"You guess?" He whispered as he kissed down your neck, and back up to nibble on your earlobe, "You guess wrong. Very fucking wrong." Sukuna bit the soft spot on your neck and his hands traveled down to knead the fat of your ass, "These hips were made for me, baby. Made for my hands, made for my mouth and teeth. Mine. All mine, Y'hear me?"

You nodded as you wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him into you, enveloping his lips with yours. This time, his kiss is harsh and jealous. His tongue licked against yours in fervor, the sound of teeth occasionally clashing only made you pull on his hair more.

"Fuck, I'm sorry for shoving you that one time." You whispered into his mouth before kissing him again. Sukuna dragged the two of you to the floor. "That shit turns me on, precious," he said as he pulled your dress over your head. He growled at the sight of your full tits bouncing free from the fabric. All that was left on your skin was a skimpy thongs and thigh highs.

"Mm, fuck you and these fucking thighs. Look at what you do to me." He said as he shed himself from the shirt and pants, "Making me go insane."

Sukuna lowered himself over you, spreading your thighs apart with his own. The cold air hitting your pussy was a reminder of just how wet you were, soaking the fabric of your panties. A groan tore itself from your throat as he bent down to lick one of your nipples.

"Yes, oh- mmph," you moaned as his teeth grazed the bud, "Need you, please, needed you for so long."

"I know baby, I know,"

That's all it took for Sukuna to free his cock from his boxers. And from the looks of it, you were absolutely fucked.

It was huge, bigger than any dick you'd ever taken in the past, with a patch of pink hair around the base of him. His lips reached down to take yours in a deep kiss as he guided himself to your entrance.

"Fuck," you whispered as you felt the tip of him notch inside you, "It's b-big, Sukuna."

He slides in another inch while thumbing at your swollen clit, "Damn, you're gonna call me that while you're taking my b-big cock?" He mocked, but then reached down to kiss one cheek, than the other, "You can do it, princess - f-fuck - Get there with me."

Once he was fully seated inside of you, you could feel the tip of him just kiss your cervix every time he thrusted. "Fuck, fuck Ryo', feels good." You moaned while fisting his hair, "I like that, baby, say it again."

"Ryooo', you groaned, you felt your climax approaching faster then you expected. A fire was lit underneath your belly and every word that poured from Sukuna's mouth was a douse of gasoline.

"Mmph, these tits - fuck - that pussy, everything about you. You feel so fucking good."

An overwhelming urge to come came over you, as well as a strange feeling, something you'd never felt before, and with every hit his dick gave your cervix, the feeling only grew stronger.

"F-feels weird, Ryo', it's too much, feels like m' gonna- oh fuck."

Sukuna could feel it too, the way your walls rippled against his length every second that passed, your breath was speeding up, your voice was giving out. "Fuck, so pretty, let it out baby, milk my cock. You wanna do that? Spray me baby, I don't give a fuck."

At his words, the cord finally released and snapped. You were coming, and hard, while gushing on his dick. "Fuckkkk, so- so good."

"Where do you want it, princess?" He asked as his thrusts turned frantic and untimed. "Inside. Please. On the pill."

His balls tightened as he came, "M'cummin, cumming so hard," Sukuna warned as he released his load inside of you.

"Fucking hell, I should've done this sooner," Sukuna said into the crook of your neck. The sound of panting and shallow breathing flooded around you.

"Well, if you weren't such an dick maybe you could've."

He playfully smacked your ass in response, and you laughed at the notion.

"What a funny story to tell our kids, huh?"

"Kids? Ryo, we have to at least finish this fucking project first."

"Shit, I completely forgot about that if we're being honest."

"Yeah, I figured."

"Rude."

"Well, if you help me out, I guess I could have a kid or two of yours."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

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pixiesndberries · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃, 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 —

a small series of Jujutsu Kaisen men as your husband !

☆ OUR STARS : Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Choso Kamo, Aoi Todo, Toji Fushiguro, and more !

━ REQUESTED BY : none

━⁠ WARNINGS : none

ෆ PIXIE'S NOTE ! : were back again at daily posting 🙏🏻 to my pookies who supported me, y'all made me giggle and kickin' my feet in my bed last night 👉🏻👈🏻 love lots!

GOJO SATORU, as your husband !

• Gojo being your husband is no different from being your boyfriend — he still gotta be that same person you dated few years ago, though he became more serious about situations and decisions because you guys are married but his goofy, annoying, clingy side is still there — I mean when he met you and been with you for like two weeks your caller name is already set as 'wifey'.

Gojo who totally acts like a mom when you leave for work, he is like a freaking HOUSEWIFE —

"honey!" he sings as he walks into the living room seeing you brush your hair Infront of the mirror, getting ready for work. "hmm?" you responded and quickly turns your head at him — he's wearing a this is what an awesome husband looks like apron which made you too stunned to speak, "I created a bento for you." he smiles as he hands out a nicely wrapped bento box which was really new to you because it's always you who keep creating bentos for him, usually when he leaves for a mission.

"thank you, honey." you say softly with a warm smile as you accept his bento that he specially created for you, he can't help but to feel like a love sick teenager seeing you smile like that. He officially takes the position of being a housewife 🫡

Gojo who couldn't stop talking about the future he wants with you like nonstop — this man would talk about having three million carbon copy of him with you and would name them after megumi, yuji, nanami and basically all of his friends, students, and dead relatives 🏃🏻‍♀️💨 — I FEEL LIKE HE GOTTA BE THAT TYPE OF PERSON.

Gojo always flexes you everyday and YOU are his hyper fixation — argue with the wall, he gotta be the type of man to say "she's my wife." randomly when he's talking to an old friend he haven't seen for a long time. HE WILL BE THE HUSBAND WHO YOU WILL SEE WEARING "I LOVE MY WIFE" TYPE OF SHIRT WITH THE UGLIEST FONT AND PHOTO TEMPLATE EVER. Once a person mentions your name he ain't gonna shut the fuck up.

I just know this marriage go'n be like Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively's relationship 🙏🏻 ABSOLUTELY RANDOM TEXTS FROM HIM, UPDATING YOU TOO MUCH.

2:32 pm

gojo : shitting at the mall cuz i don't have anywhere to shit on.

gojo : [sent an attachment]

gojo : i miss you my wife, my beautiful wife.

gojo : [sent an attachment]

gojo : your very handsome husband ❤️

2:40 pm

you : stop spamming me messages love, im at work 🙏🏻

gojo : why? is it turning you on 😏

you : that's a photo of your feet.

Gojo who became a seriously hands on person when you told him that you're pregnant — when he has missions with yuji, megumi, or maybe nobara and you told him that you're very tired to do anything today he will be like,"okay kids, I got to go I have important things to do." and dashed away before they could say something and mf arrived at yalls house within a second.

Gojo who cried when he carry his baby for the first time, he was sobbing like hell — girl dad? boy dad? BRO HE IS BOTH ‼️ "okay we'll name this one suguru and this one-" he is going to come up with the most ridiculous names, probably the worst one was his dead ancestor.

okay seriously, Gojo would be a full time dad after his children were born — he will always stay at home as much as he can, having twins isn't easy plus he's trying to help you with his full power and make sure you don't feel alone through this.

"gojo.." you grumble as you felt his presence disappearing next to you at bed, you open your eyes and sees he wasn't there which led you to stand up and start looking for him — you walk out of the bedroom and noticed that the twin's bedroom door was open so you check it out.

in your suprise, gojo was in the rocking chair with the twin's in his arms peacefully sleeping and he is snoring like hell. You can't help but smile seeing this moment, it warms you heart. You quickly grabbed your phone and took a quick photo, this is what you exactly wished for.

Gojo who couldn't stop posting you and his little angels and his fans are absolutely living for it, it's like his day wouldn't complete without posting cute photos of his angels and of course, you as well. Gojo is indeed a Facebook mom —

; gojosatoru

tagged : @y/n.instagram | fam time 🤍 !

liked by megumi.22 and 8,957 others

itaaa.yuji | I volunteer as a tribute to babysit them 🫡

nobaraaa | CUTIES.

shokoleiri.7 | adorbs

─ REBLOGS, LIKES, AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED FEEL FREE TO REQUEST!

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vroomingrussell · 4 months ago

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Risks & Rewards

Charles Leclerc x Reader

For the purpose of the story Charles & Alex relationship is important and is mentioned but timeline is fictional. This is a one night stand fic with hidden pregnancy being the main plot. Warning; Google translated French?

Monaco. May 26th 2024.

There was nothing but passion between the two of you, your bodies moving together in sync with pleasure as if you were still on the dance floor of the club you had met at.

You’d been in town for the Monaco Grand Prix, invited by Kika, one of your best friends and colleagues. You’d spent the day watching the race and then the night celebrating the historic win of the Monegasque driver, Prince of the people.

He was a friend of a friend, high off of defeating his previous ill fated incidents and claiming a space of his country’s history books.

Music soared and bodies met, one thing led to another and you found yourselves tangled in the sheets of your hotel room, a night fuel and lust, passion and alcohol.

The next morning thankfully there was no awkward tension, he’d left before the sun had peaked from the skies.

It did not matter; the night was fun, something people did when they were young and wild.

—

However, a month later, back at home, you began to feel the difference, morning sickness and missed period but the at home test debunked the theory, after two months, and a doctor check up, you found out the night that fulfilled a wild fantasy of fleeting pleasure, had left a what you believed to be a reward.

You debated messaging Charles, it was easy getting his number from Pierre, the problem was that you had no idea what to say ‘hi, we had a one night stand and now im pregnant with your child which I want to keep’ did not sound right in your head, plus from your source of all things Charles -Kika and Pierre- he now had a girlfriend. Their relationship seems picturesque, they made a gorgeous couple and you truly were happy for him, after all, you had no feels for the man, with plenty of consideration, you decided to keep your little surprise from Charles. It was highly unlikely that your paths would cross again, your only connection to his world was Pierre and Kika, whom, you had to swear to secrecy, you barely saw them anyways, so you existed almost completely outside of his bubble.

——

Monaco. December 2024.

You’d been in Monaco for a few days with Kika, she had insisted you two had some relaxing girl time before you couldn’t travel due to the baby. You’d spent the days, shopping, eating and at the spa, being seven months along kept you from the lifestyle you once had in the same country, not that you minded, nothing brought you more joy that preparing for the arrival of your daughter.

Sun poured into the cafe, it was a nice welcome to the chilly winter air that hugged the city, a latte and scones sat infront of you, Kika was running late for your day of, shopping, so you sat alone, reading through a magazine from the shop when they bell above the door chimed. You looked up, thinking it was your friend, when you were met with a familiar set of eyes, you remembered its beautiful shade of green.

Charles.

You quickly looked away, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you’d met once, over seven months ago, he wasn’t likely to remember you. For a few moments you were spared as he went to the counter and placed his order. Seconds felt like hours as he stood across the cafe from you, the shop felt tight, like you were trapped in a shoe box of memories and decisions you couldn’t escape.

The little one began moving around and kicking in your stomach. Instinctively, your hand rest on your swollen belly, it’s as if she could sense her father, so close.

The chime of the door came again, this time it was Kika “Sorry, sorry” she apologized and made her way to you “Pirre insisted on driving” she flopped her bag down on the chair infront of yours before hugging you in greeting.

“It’s fine, your goddaughter wakes me too early” you smiled, feeling the tension from your shoulders lift a little.

Her arrival did not go unnoticed by Charles as he wondered coffee in hand to say hello to her. You watched on quietly as she hugged him and exchanged pleasantries then to your horror, she introduced you “you remember my friend, Y/N?” God you wished he didn’t.

“Of course yes” he says, a slight blush, probably from the memory of your night together.

Kika quietly disappeared to the counter, leaving you two alone.

You smiled politely and stuck your hand out for him to shake “nice to meet you again”

“You too, and uh congratulations” He says “how many months?”

Your heart dropped, he couldn’t figure it, not so quickly, his soft polite smile never left his face, he was just being nice and asking for conversations sake, he didn’t know and probably didn’t truly care.

But you saw this as the moment to come clean, after all you had kept it from him for seven months, guilt had led you to his inbox many many times only to close out the message before you could hit send.

“Seven months” You say, watching him intently. You saw the moment it registered, the moment his smile fell. He slumped down in the seat in front of you.

“Seven months” he repeated “that would mean, wait me? I am the father?” He says softer, just above a whisper. There wasn’t anyone but you, him and Kika in the shop at the moment, but you understood this was no place for this revelation.

You only nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, what would have changed? You don’t want to be the father, you don’t have to be..I’m not asking you to be”

“Putain de merde!” He cursed “still you should have told me”

“I’m sorry Charles, I just did what I thought was best. I wanted her, you did not ask for this. I don’t want to be a burden, I want nothing from you”

“She? We are having a daughter”

“I am having a girl, yes. You do not have to be her father Charles, you have a wonderful life, a beautiful girlfriend, you just got a dog together, you don’t have to let what happened months ago change your life, I have to leave” Quickly, you got up and grabbed your bag, existing the cafe as quickly as possible. Thankfully neither Charles nor Kika followed you as you headed back to your hotel.

You laid in bed for the rest of the day, cradling your stomach, your baby was yours, you loved her so deeply, you didn’t need Charles. You had a wonderful family that supported you and loved your unborn child as well.

Later in the afternoon, there was a knock on your door, you opened it with the expectation that Kika had come to drag you out of your mood, but to your surprise it was Charles.

“Please let us talk for a moment, I just want to understand”

You nodded and moved aside, letting him in.

“I brought you some food, we can have dinner together”

“Charles, you didn’t have to”

“I know but I wanted to”

“Thank you” you got yourself comfortable on your bed again “come on sit let’s talk”

“She’s mine? I don’t doubt you but she’s is mine”

“Yes, the condoms neither of us had” The Heat of the moment had left you both a little hay brained.

“And she’s due in January… do you have a date?” As you ate, you answered all the questions he had, which was a lot.

“I spoke to Alex” he said at the end “I want to be present in the babies life, I want her to know me as much as possible. I don’t want her to be without a father”

“Charles you know you don’t have to, you don’t have to feel responsible for what happened, you don’t have to feel obligated, keeping the baby was my choice”

“I know I don’t have to do anything, but will you let me?”

For a moment you thought about it, the questions she’d have about her father, who he was, what he did, where was he. As much as you wanted to live in a bubble with your baby girl, away from what her life would look like split between two parent.

“You know what, you have a right to be in her life in you choose, but promise me you won’t hurt her Charles”

“Can I?” He asked before gently placing a hand on your stomach “I promise to do everything in my power to make her happy and safe”

#charles leclerc x female reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #I dunno what this is just vibes ig #f1 x reader

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too-deviant · 1 year ago

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The incessant ringing of loneliness (or three weeks part two).

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Apollo!Reader

Summary: Luke is back, officially. But you can’t find it in yourself to be happy about it.

Content: angst, loser!luke makes an appearance, a lil fluff, this one is probably happier than part one

Word Count: 4k

Notes: i can’t thank you guys enough for the love on three weeks :( it really means the world, and i hope you enjoy this one too! i don’t think there’s gonna be a part 3 just because i want the rest of luke and r’s story to be up to your own interpretation - especially since his path to healing is such an important factor and it could go in any way. hope that’s ok with you guys :)

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷

You weren’t very popular at camp.

Despite the fact that you’d been there for longer than most of its occupants, and that you’d bandaged up some of their gnarlier injuries, you just didn’t have what it took to have people know your name upon first glance.

Clarisse had her unbridled aggression — she scared people into knowing who she was. Charles Beckendorf was the guy you went to when you broke a sword and didn’t want Chiron finding out about it, plus he was six foot six and kinda hard to miss. The Stoll Twins were behind pretty much every crazy scheme that ended up in Hermes losing desert privileges. Luke was…well, he was Luke. Need I say more?

Point is, while everyone knew everyone, not everyone really knew you. They knew your face, your parentage, and your overall skill set. But they didn’t know your name, or what made you tick.

Which was fine, really. You liked the alone time you got in the infirmary when your sister would run out to gossip with her friends in Aphrodite whenever she saw them walk by. You didn’t mind that, when your cabin got their hour of free time each day, your siblings would rush off to their friends and you would simply settle down with a good book.

It’s not as if you were entirely lonely — you had your fellow Apollo kids. You, Alina and Lee bonded especially, being the older kids of the group. So you had them — the only difference was that they had other people, too.

Which, again, was fine.

Except when you started to take care of Luke, you finally felt like you had a person. You looked forward to seeing him after meals each day, and you found excuses to linger in his room whenever possible. Call it odd, but you grew to enjoy the fact that nobody else knew he was back. Because that way, you had him, he had you, and that was that.

But then Luke got better.

You didn’t even have time to worry about it — one minute you were scarfing down your breakfast, eager to bring that second plate up to the Big House, and ignoring the strange looks your siblings sent you. Then in a split moment, everyone was cheering, people were standing and suddenly you didn’t feel so crowded anymore.

You heard murmurs of excitement, but people were practically standing on the table around you — unhygienic, much? People are eating here — and you couldn’t see what they were looking at. You tugged on your brother’s leg and he glanced down at your raised brow, then he said, “Luke’s back!”

It was like you were sucked back in time. No — it was like you were sitting in a waiting room, shivering from the cold breeze that whisked in through the automatic doors. And then the doors closed, and you could release the tension in your body because the warmth was already reaching your fingers — only for someone to walk past and make the doors open again, sending the sharp sting of the cold right back to where it was before.

Yes. That’s what it was — the warmth Luke’s eyes on you had provided was suddenly ripped completely from you the second your brother's words reached your ears. Replaced with the blistering cold of nobody ever knowing your name.

So it was back to normal for you. The normal you had grown accustomed to — the normal you liked. The normal you thought you liked, anyway.

You didn’t even catch a glimpse of Luke’s face as you stood and left the Pavilion, focusing on the floor beneath your feet rather than the crowd forming around him. Oh, but you couldn’t forget that he was back, it was all anybody could talk about. Once they’d done the math and realised he was the patient you’d been taking care of for three weeks, you locked yourself in your cabin to avoid all the questions, and didn’t see him until the very next day.

The chatter of Luke’s return had died down when you woke up the next morning — a little later than you usually did, Lee having to shake you so you wouldn’t miss breakfast. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and pulled a clean camp shirt over your head, stumbling a little due to the fact that you hadn’t fully woken up yet.

When you were ready, Lee was waiting by the door. A few of your siblings were still getting themselves into a line after his loud Fall in! had woken them up, so you had time to stretch your arms and let out a sigh once you had taken your place beside him. You and Alina always walked with him to mealtimes, even though neither of you were counsellors, and you greeted her with a smile.

The air was stuffy again — so much so that even Lee let out a wince when the shining glow of the front door hit his eyes. Then he stepped out of the cabin — his usual routine of checking the garden and cabin for pranks before letting them out coming into play. But he stopped.

“What?”

He swung his head back at you, brows raised and smile growing, “Luke’s back.”

Out of instinct, you rolled your eyes, “Pretty sure we all know that, already.”

“Yeah, but —“ He turned fully then, hands on the doorframe and grin shining, “He’s back, which means the Hermes kids are finally under control again, which means we don’t have to worry about being pranked first thing in the morning!”

“Holy crap.” Alina was grinning now, both of your siblings looking at you and each-other with this excited expression that made you sort of angry – why are they perceiving Luke? They’re not allowed.

You huffed a sigh as Lee started to lead the line outside, “He got back yesterday, there’s no way he’s already –”

But he was. As you stepped into the sun, the skin on your thighs already forming an uncomfortable layer of sweat, you looked to where the Hermes cabin was filing out of their door, led by the one and only Luke Castellan. You paused.

He’d been back a day. Sure, his scar had healed nicely, but it was only three days ago that he was struggling to hold his own in a sword fight – if he was back to his counsellor duties, was he going back to teaching sword fighting? You were unsure he should even be in charge of all those Hermes and unclaimed kids so soon, but going back to teaching only days after coming back to camp? There was no way he was ready for that.

Should you say something? Or would he dismiss you, now that he was done with you?

You watched as he walked with Chris, chatting idly as if nothing was wrong. But you saw Chris glance occasionally at the jagged line through his brother’s eye, and you saw Luke attempt to ignore it.

Should you say something?

You tripped. You were so busy staring creepily at Luke that you tripped over your own feet and tumbled into Lee’s back. He stumbled slightly but righted himself with a huff and a chuckle, turning and asking if you were alright.

But you had looked straight back in Luke’s direction – he was still talking to Chris. He wasn’t looking at you.

He wasn’t your person anymore.

Luke was unsure.

Which didn’t happen often — as one of the oldest campers, and the one everyone else looked to in times of peril, it was sort of essential for him to be sure. He needed to know what to do, to have a solution for every situation, and to be completely calm about it. Otherwise, camp would go to shit.

That much was obvious — he didn’t know why you hadn’t told him this in the three weeks you spent together, but camp had turned itself upside down in his absence. Apparently nobody was prepared for him to be gone for so long, and they kind of all lost their shit.

He was happy to be back, don’t get him wrong. He lit up when he saw his brother’s faces again, when he felt their arms wrap around him. He laughed when Travis joked about thinking he was dead, and when Connor quipped that the camp was seconds away from starting a revolution. He nodded at Chiron, smiled amusedly when Mr D rolled his eyes, he scooped Annabeth into his arms, whispered to her that yes, he was alive, and he let himself be whisked to his table, the crowd following like moths to a flame.

It was slightly overwhelming, but he was well-equipped to deal with it. He liked the feeling — if he ignored the throbbing on the side of his face, it could be like he’d never even left. The quest never happened, the dragon never happened, and people are just happy to see him because he’s their counsellor. Of course they would be. Everything was fine.

Everything was fine — so he ignored the urge to scan his eyes across the crowd in search of a familiar head of hair. He stopped himself from glancing at the Apollo table, from looking in Lee’s direction, just in case he wasn’t standing alone.

Because he didn’t need you anymore. Not that he didn’t appreciate all you did for him, but the healing was done. He was better, he was back at camp — he was Luke Castellan again. If he looked for you, if he met those eyes and returned that smile, it would be admitting defeat. Admitting that he wasn’t better, that he still needed his doctor.

But he didn’t. Because he was back, baby! And he didn’t need to think about that stupid quest, his stupid dad, or his stupid scar ever again.

He had a short chat with Chiron, who looked a little uneasy when he expressed his readiness to get back to camp duties. He told him that it was fine if he needed time to settle in, but Luke was firm. He didn’t need to settle, he didn’t need to wait. So Chiron sighed, and told him to escort his cabin to the climbing walls for their morning session.

And that’s how the rest of the day went — climbing wall, arts and crafts cabin, strawberry fields, archery practice. Luke did it all, just like he used to before he left. If people would just stop looking at his damn scar, maybe he could pretend he never left at all. If they stopped murmuring about him being the secret camper, hidden from them this whole time, he could avoid thinking about you and the sweet touch of your fingers on his face.

The fact that he hadn’t seen you at all since his return helped him on that front — you weren’t around at breakfast, lunch or dinner. You weren’t in the infirmary whenever he peeked through the windows. You weren’t with the rest of your cabin when they were paired with Hermes for hand-to-hand defence practice.

Not that he was looking for you, or anything.

“Hey, man.” Chris clapped him on the shoulder as they walked up to breakfast. It had officially been twenty-four hours since Luke’s return, and the chatter had died down significantly. That was good for him, helped him ignore the fact that he was ever not there.

All he had to do was keep his eyes off you — who had magically reappeared in camp — as you also walked up to breakfast, the Apollo kids trailing behind you, Lee and Alina.

“Listen, you did great yesterday.” His brother was saying, and he zoned in on it. “It was like you never left.”

Cool, that was the plan.

“But it’s sword fighting today.”

Luke raised a brow, “So?”

“So…” Chris sang, awkwardly waving a hand, “You don’t have to jump right back into training us, is what I’m saying.”

He scoffed, running a hand through us curls, “Nah, bro, I’m good.”

“Are you sure? Because —“

“Y’know, Chris,” Luke sent his brother a cheeky look as they took their seats around the Hermes table, “if you’re scared to get back to my gruelling training sessions, just say that.”

Chris’ face fell, appalled, and he put a hand on his chest, “Scared? Dude, you’re the one who should be scared. I’ve gotten good since you’ve been gone.”

And there it was — a reminder that it wasn’t the same. That he couldn’t pretend he had never left, because nobody else was. Whatever, it’d be fine. A couple of weeks and this would all blow over and he would never have to think about it again.

The Amphitheatre, unlike the rest of the camp amenities, was familiar to him. He didn’t need to stand and take it all in like he did with everywhere else, because he’d been here not even a week ago with —

No. Stop. You aren’t in his life anymore. He never went on his quest. Everything is how it should be.

The kids gathered around him were letting off a range of emotions as Luke stood before them, sword in hand. The younger ones were giddy, eager to get back to training with their favourite teacher. Some of the older ones, however, were only slightly confused that he’d bounced back so quickly. If he had to spend three weeks in the Big House before even going outside, was he ready to jump right back into sword training? Maybe he’d go easier on them today, take it slow.

“Alright — if there’s anything I've learnt over the years, it’s that sword fighting is all about reflexes. So, today, we will be working on y’all’s dodging skills. Oliver, get up here!”

Luke was back on Mount Tamalpais. The fiery breath Ladon was shooting at him seared his skin and burnt holes into his shirt. He was ducking out of the way, but there was no room to breathe when another one of his hundred heads came at him with a fierce snarl. His sword felt useless in his hands, every swing being deflected and every jab proving useless compared to the dragon's swift movements.

He blinked, and he was back at camp. Sparring with an unclaimed kid who’s name was lost on him. Sweat dripped down his brows but he wiped it away with shaky fingers. He gave an off-handed comment on the kids form before calling a water break.

“Yo— woah, man!”

Chris looked wide-eyed at Luke. He had tapped him gently on the shoulder and he had responded with an aggressive swing towards him. He stepped out of the arc just in time, but Luke still dropped the sword like it had burnt him. He stepped back, hands shaking, and stared at the ground.

It was odd — being at Archery in the mornings. You’d spent three weeks skipping the hour in favour of taking food to Luke and ensuring his dressings were changed. Which for most cabins, was what? Three classes a week?

Not for the Apollo kids — who have always and will always have their first hour spent on the Archery fields. Mainly because it’s when the sun is rising, shining on them in the early mornings and giving them their power to hit the bullseye. You included, even if healing was more your purview.

So you’d missed probably around twenty classes, give or take a few. Your form was, well, subpar at best. Lee had to spend the entire hour making sure you didn’t accidentally hit one of your siblings — and that was after he had to re-teach you the basics.

You probably would’ve been better had you not been so distracted — your mind whirring with thoughts of Luke. You wished your brain would just leave it alone, but apparently you weren’t done mulling over the situation. You wanted to slap yourself across the face and say hey, idiot. The three weeks is up, he’s healed. It’s over. But your siblings would probably look at you weird, so you decided against it.

Instead, you threw yourself into your duties. Archery was a bump in the road, but now you were smooth sailing. You didn’t focus on anything else but what you had to do that day — not taking a moment to breathe because if you did that, you’d start thinking about Castellan again. You didn’t want that, you really didn’t want that.

It was going really well, too. But then Chiron just had to interrupt your canoeing session, asking you to clear out any medical supplies you left over in the spare room of the Big House since nobody was staying there anymore.

Oh, great. You were thinking about him again.

And then all the thoughts you’d been suppressing since ten in the morning were overflowing your head, and you thought you might have had to ask Mr D if you were going mad because when you cracked open the door and peeked your head in, Luke was sitting on the edge of the bed like usual and you had to blink to make the hallucination go away.

Except it didn’t go away. Instead it looked at you and smiled, “Hi.”

Your lips parted, and you stepped in. Your eyebrows curved in on themselves, “Uh, hey. What are you…”

You were still about seventy percent sure that he wasn’t real, but nobody was there to listen to you talk to air, so you replied anyway. Luke clicked his tongue, let out a chuckle, then sighed, “I don’t think I can do it.”

Okay, fifty percent sure.

“Do what?”

“Go back out there.” He gestured a hand to the window that pointed outside, although it was still covered with the curtain. “I thought…I dunno, I guess I got too excited yesterday. Thought I was ready to jump back into it.”

You stepped fully through the threshold, and he followed you with his eyes as you walked over to the desk. Nothing but a few spare bandages that you scooped into your arms before looking back at him. You tilted your head, “Healing isn’t linear. It’s perfectly normal to feel like you’re on top of the world one day and then like it’s crumbling around you the next.”

He stood, walked over to you. Thirty percent.

“I don’t want to disappoint them.”

“You won't.” You shook your head, “You made a big step, coming back to camp. That's it for now, you don’t need to take any more big steps for a while.”

He nodded, “No more big steps.”

“Not until you’re ready.”

Luke’s hands reached out, taking the bandages from where you cradled them to your chest. He put them back onto the desk behind you. Ten percent.

His eyes bore into yours, “I don’t think I’m done healing.”

You shook your head surely, “I don’t think you are, either. And that’s okay.”

He nodded, lips clicking when he parted them, “Which means you’re not allowed to leave me yet. You have to stay with me until I’m fully better.”

You shook your head then, stammering, “It’s — that’s not how it works. What you went through, it — you might not ever be fully better.”

But Luke just nodded like he knew that already, taking a step closer, “I think I’m okay with that.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. What the hell do you say to that? “Okay.”

He nodded, pressing his lips together, “So you’re not gonna leave me.”

Five percent.

A shake of your head, “Not until you ask me to.”

“Good.”

He wrapped his arms around you, and you froze. Okay, he was real. He was really there. You were sure. You hugged him back — he buried his face into your neck and whispered something about you never leaving him again and you whispered something in return about how you wouldn’t dream of it.

So, apparently, you severely underestimated what it was like to be friends with Luke.

You’d thought about it — of course you had. You would imagine what perfect golden boy Luke Castellan was like when he didn’t have to be a perfect golden boy. When he could just be a boy, hanging out with his friends like a normal person would. What jokes did he tell? Did he still keep up that Luke Castellan Grin or did he relax into an easy smirk? Did he make his friends follow the rules even when they were alone? Did he follow the rules when he was alone?

You wondered, although you never thought you’d actually find out. But he’d made it clear you were never leaving his side so long as he still needed you — and he was sticking to that. Firmly.

The summer sun was hot on your back — only this time your dad seemed to be going easy on you, as you weren’t completely uncomfortable under the warm cotton of your camp shirt. You still wafted it every now and then, proving some cool air to your chest, but overall you were feeling good.

You walked into the Amphitheatre with the rest of your siblings — who were less than amused that, despite Luke’s return to camp, Tyler P from the Hephaestus cabin was still running sword fighting practice. They heaved themselves onto the tiered seats with dramatic groans, but he simply grinned at them.

You paused from where you were about to sit down next to Alina when a waving hand caught your peripheral. It was Luke, tucked into the very top corner of the steps, smiling at you from the shadows.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked when you reached him, raising your brow in amusement. He patted the spot next to him and you sat down, just as Tyler began to talk. Luke leaned in.

“I’m watching.” He muttered into your ear, then he smirked at you, “You can’t stop me from doing that.”

“I wasn’t going to.” You murmured, leaning back on your elbows and watching as your siblings paired up reluctantly. “Thanks for pulling me away, though. Gives me an excuse not to take part.”

Luke huffed a laugh, “He can’t be that bad, right?”

“Just you wait.” You smirked.

Turns out, Tyler was that bad. Every ‘new skill’ he tried to teach them either (a) they already knew, something Luke liked to whisper at you with a shake of his head, or (b) he couldn’t even do it himself, let alone teach others how to. Another thing Luke commented on from where he sat beside you, hands aching to get in there and show him what was what.

“Just one tip, and then I’ll go.” He begged under his breath as Tyler dropped his sword for the umpteenth time. “Please.”

“No.” You didn’t even look at him, “Because one tip turns into a demonstration. And a —“

“— a demonstration turns into a class, yeah yeah.” He rolled his eyes, but you just grinned at him. He smiled, “You’re mean.”

“I know.” You said in a faux-sympathetic tone. You pouted at him, “I’m just so cruel, aren’t I?”

His eyes narrowed, and his mouth stretched into a disbelieving grin, “Damn, doc. What happened to you?”

You scoffed amusedly, “You did.”

His mouth dropped open and you smiled, looking away. He poked your side and you shuffled away with a giggle, attempting to ignore his riled up smile. He didn’t relent, for every inch you moved away from him, he scooted right back towards you. You looked at him with a narrowed gaze, “I miss when you were too miserable to talk to me.”

“No you don’t.” He shook his head. He was right, you didn’t.

He let out a slow breath through his nose, and you felt it on your face. That was when you realised how close your faces were — mere centimetres apart. You swallowed thickly, but you didn’t move away. Luke’s smile stretched, and his hand began to inch up your arm.

You squinted, “What are you doing?”

It was his turn to feign confusion, pulling his lips into the same pout you did only moments earlier, “What are you talking about?”

His hand was at your elbow now, sliding higher. You shook your head, a minute movement, “Doctor Patient Fraternising isn’t allowed.”

He gasped, pulling his hand back in favour of placing it dramatically against his chest, “It’s not?”

“Nope.” You grinned amusedly, “Sorry.”

“Damn.” He leaned back, glancing at you for a second before looking back towards Tyler’s shitshow of a sword lesson, “Guess I’ll have to get another doctor.”

You snorted, “You’re a loser.”

You stood up and went to rejoin your siblings, and Luke shouted after you, “I’m your loser!”

“What was that?” Lee asked when you stopped beside him.

“What? Oh,” You glanced back at where Luke was sat, and he averted his gaze from where he had been looking at you. You looked up at your brother, “He’s just happy to be back, is all.”

He chuckled, “Sure.”

Whatever. He was your person again and Lee could suck your dick if he had anything to say about it.

🏷️ @aceofswordsandarrows @cowsandcomics @number-onekidqueen @kestisvrse @m00ng4z3r @mischiefmoons @how2besalty @iinlovewithfictionalppl @lilacspider @l0ve-dov3 @coffi-cake @ironmanbaldes @onecojg @hiraethavis @freaking0utficrecs @delphifarms @wildlyfreemoon @candylandy8173 @sinnercry @featherofthecrow @babellucci @telliette @totallynotnic

#i hate this #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan is a loser and i love him #percy jackson #luke castellan x you #pjo

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smartkookiee · 1 month ago

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How to Lose A Guy in 30 Days || Ch.4 — jjk.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀° ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: strangers to lovers, 18+ ❥chapter warnings/tags: software engineer!Jungkook, writer!Reader, flirting, some family drama, crazy and manipulative mom stuff, movie night, some domesticity, they are cute for like five seconds before everything goes to shit (whoops), Jimin and Tae being little shits, Jin being a real homie, some heavy misunderstanding and miscommunication ❥word-count: 7.1k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter ❥Playlist fic is cross posted to ao3 send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list. a/n: Hi everyone I know this is a short chapter but I hope you enjoy anyway, this chapter introduces some important stuff so I really like it. Enjoy <3 ❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

Day 07

“12 dates is hilarious.”

Jin, Ronnie, and Namjoon all snickered as you explained your last date with Jungkook, explaining the end and your sorry excuse to get out of his apartment.

“I couldn’t think of anything else! I needed some excuse to leave and then he asked me how many dates, and I just thought of the first number that felt ridiculous.” You run your hands through your hair, laughing at yourself. The four of you gathered in your small living room, you had taken to laying on the floor. Picking out fibers from the rug you had. Jin sitting next to you and Namjoon and Ronnie on the couch.

“What did he say?” Ronnie asked.

Suddenly a buzz from your phone, a small piece of you wondering if maybe it was a text from him. Seeing who it was, your disappointment became evident but you tried to play it off. Not in the mood to respond to who that text actually came from. Setting your phone down on the coffee table face down.

Thinking back to the shocked and then cool and collected look Jungkook had on his face was amusing, “Oh he was fine with it, maybe a little surprised. Said he just needed to plan for ten more dates.”

“At least he’s got some class.” Jin poked your forehead. The disappointment from whatever text you got was evident on your face.

He had a lot more class than any of you had given him credit for. “So what comes next for the two of you?” Namjoon asked, curiosity had filled the room the whole morning about what your next steps would be.

Another buzz comes from your phone, you don’t need to check it. You know who it’s from. You ignore it and continue, “Well I think I can start to turn up the heat.” You sit up. “Which is the hard part of all of this.”

“Oh you’ve got this. If you can almost break your own nose in front of him, surely anything else will be a piece of cake.” Ronnie assured you with a wink and you roll your eyes.

“Still sore to be honest.” You say touching the end of your nose. Remembering the concern on Jungkook’s face when you had hit yourself, it was sweet.

“When are you going out next? I want to help you plan.” Jin bounced in his spot next to you.

You placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, I haven’t even heard from him.” Another buzz from your phone, you ignore it again. Wishful thinking would make it be Jungkook.

“Why not call him? Who says you have to wait on the guy?” Namjoon suggests.

“You think I should?” You felt a little nervous and unsure.

Ronnie nods, giving Namjoon a pat on the shoulder. “Namjoon's right, plus you’ve already called him so the ice is already broken!”

Jin, grabs your phone from your coffee table, holding it to you, “Oh do it now! We can help!”

You take your phone but right at that moment you get another text. Putting it at four already, your face dropped a little as you just ignored them opening your phone. Finding Jungkook’s contact and almost pressing call but suddenly you realized how close everyone was and they were all staring at you with big and intent eyes. You very quickly understood what it felt like to be a fish in a bowl.

“Okay freaks, I’m doing this in the other room.” You stand to your feet, but Jin pulls you back down and they all protest.

“No! No no we’ll be good I swear.” Ronnie said, sitting straight up in her spot like you were a teacher.

“Swear.” Jin crossed over his heart.

“...Fine.” You groan. You decided to press call. Waiting for a moment, immediately regretting your decision. You didn’t have a single clue what you were going to say.

The phone rang and rang, it was possible he was busy and you were almost going to hang up. Just as that moment line picked up, there was shuffling on the other end before the line cleared.

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice came through the line, he sounded groggy and probably not awake. It was 11 you didn’t think it was too early to call.

“Hi.” Your voice is turning lighter than you would normally use it. “Uhh good morning! Did I wake you?”

You look to the others and Namjoon is gesturing for you to put the phone on speaker but you wave him off. One, for the off chance one of them laughs and completely embarrass you. Two, you didn’t need every second of this situation invaded by your friends.

Jungkook let out a tired laugh, “Yeah but I don’t mind… Good morning.”

"I was just sort of calling to say hi…" You hesitated, then smiled. "Which I’ve already done, so I guess I could just hang up now."

Jungkook hummed, amusement slipping into his tone. "Well, it’s a good thing you called. I was just having a crazy dream about us."

“Oh us?”

"Yeah. Something about you coming over and us having a movie night… details are fuzzy, but that was the gist of it."

“Hmm sounds like a pretty lame dream.”

"Lame?" Jungkook scoffed. "I thought it was sweet. A classic date formula."

"I’m teasing, can’t mess with a classic. Well, speaking of that." You started, shifting your phone to your other ear. "I was actually going to see if you were free today… or tonight, I guess."

Jungkook made a dramatic show of shuffling around on the other end of the line, as if checking a nonexistent schedule. "Let me see… yep. A whole lot of nothing planned for today."

"Wow, what an eventful life you lead."

"I know. Truly, I’m booked and busy."

You bit back a laugh. "Okay, can I come to yours again? I have some errands on that side of town."

A small fib. You didn’t actually have errands, but you weren’t ready to have Jungkook over at your place.

"Yeah, that’s fine." Jungkook said easily, followed by a yawn. "Text me some snacks you like, and I’ll go get them."

"Oh, you don’t have to do that."

"I have nothing better to do today anyway." There was a sound of sheets rustling, like he was stretching. "Text me when you’re on your way."

"Alright. See you later."

With that, you ended the call, exhaling deeply before finally looking up—only to find three pairs of eyes locked onto you with identical expressions of giddy anticipation.

You groaned. "Okay, I’m leaving."

Namjoon smirked. "It’s your house."

You stand just to go into your kitchen, honestly trying to step aside. Because you got five more texts in the span of that call. You knew exactly who from, and you were finding your anxiety building on your stomach. Twisting and turning as you read the messages, Jin coming over to you in your focused concern.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” He says it quietly, Namjoon and Ronnie distracted with some conversation by themselves.

You don’t look at him shielding your phone, “That easy to tell?”

“You looked like you saw a ghost when you looked at your phone, then continued to intentionally ignore it. I’m a bit of a detective” He leans on one hip bringing his pointer finger and thumb up to his chin. Obviously trying to make you feel better. “Let me guess, back in the country?”

“I guess so…” You pause, you get another text.

Are you going to respond to me? Hello?

You sigh, shoving your phone in your pocket, Jin sighs. “You can talk about it if you would like.”

"No." You shut it down quickly, then, realizing how defensive you sounded, cleared your throat. "No… it’s fine. I’ll be fine. It goes like this every time."

Jin arched a brow. "Yeah, and every time, you give in."

"I know." You murmured. "It’s just… sometimes hard to say no."

"But you have to." His tone was firm but not unkind. "It won’t be like last time, right?"

You swallowed. "Right."

Jin was clearly not convinced, but he let it go. "If you need backup, let me know. I’ll hover around you like a helicopter if you need."

You let out a weak laugh. "I won’t need that. I just have to keep details short. If I talk about my promotion at all, it’ll turn into a whole thing."

"I know. I was there last time." Jin said, voice laced with frustration—not at you, but at the situation. "Just… don’t let yourself get guilt-tripped into giving her money again. You know it’s not going to where she says it is."

“It’s…not always like that…” A lie, a knee jerk excuse. One you had been trying to stop making.

“Uh-huh." Jin gave you a look. "Just try to remember how bad things got. I know she’s your mom but she has a way of convincing you things aren’t so bad.”

There it was. Mom. Or as she liked to put it, your best friend.

"As long as she doesn’t start showing up at my house, it’ll be fine." You said, picking at your nails. "After that, it’ll be hard to get her to leave…"

Jin watched you closely, eyes scanning your nervous fidgeting, but instead of pressing further, he simply bumped his shoulder against yours.

"Come on," He said, his voice deliberately lighter. "No more talk about her. Take out your anxiety on Jungkook instead."

You snorted, shaking your head. "That’s not how that works."

Jin smirked. "Could be. Just make his life a little difficult for fun." He gave you a playful shove back toward the living room.

"So," Ronnie said as you rejoined them. "What’s your plan for tonight?"

You let out a slow breath, feeling a familiar little spark of mischief flicker in your chest.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

Jungkook spent the day tidying up his apartment—not that it was messy to begin with, but he wanted things to be nice. After all, you were coming over. He even grabbed some snacks, per your request, carefully picking out a selection he thought you'd like. It had been a while since he spent a Saturday night in, but honestly, he was looking forward to it.

Last week getting to know you had been easy, comfortable in a way he hadn’t expected. If the next month went like this, he’d coast through without a hitch. That is, as long as there weren’t any more unnecessary interruptions. Like Channel.

Except tonight, he had a different interruption to deal with.

A series of loud knocks echoed through his apartment just as he was pouring chips into a bowl. He sighed, already sensing trouble before he even reached the door.

"Jungkookie!" Taehyung’s familiar voice called from the other side, followed by the sound of muffled laughter—Jimin, no doubt.

Jungkook frowned as he swung the door open, revealing both of them standing there with far too much excitement for two people who weren’t supposed to be here.

"You’re not dressed." Jimin pointed out immediately, gesturing to Jungkook’s sweatpants and oversized t-shirt like they personally offended him.

"Am I supposed to be?" Jungkook asked, already feeling the beginnings of a headache.

"Uh, yeah. We have plans." Taehyung said, pushing past him into the apartment without hesitation. Jimin followed, shaking his head in disappointment.

Jungkook turned, face scrunching in confusion. "No, we don’t."

Jimin scoffed, crossing his arms. "We always go out on Saturdays. It’s tradition. Like breathing, or me looking better than Taehyung."

"You wish." Taehyung muttered before grabbing a handful of popcorn from Jungkook’s snack spread.

"Well, not tonight." Jungkook said firmly, closing the door and facing them with finality. "Y/N is coming over. We’re hanging out."

Jimin raised an eyebrow and did a slow scan of the room, eyes landing on the array of snacks, the neatly arranged couch, and the cozy atmosphere Jungkook had set up.

"Oh. Hanging out." He echoed, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. "Not like that. Actually just hanging out."

"So you’re ditching us?" Taehyung asked, feigning a dramatic pout as he stuffed more popcorn into his mouth.

"To hang out with her? Absolutely."

Jimin gasped, clutching his chest. "Who are you, and what have you done with my party animal Jungkook?"

Jungkook rolled his eyes. "Nothing’s changed. I’m just taking our little bet seriously."

The moment he mentioned the bet, Taehyung and Jimin exchanged glances—silent, knowing, mischievous. They weren’t about to lose to him that easily.

"Come on, we came all this way." Taehyung tried again, leaning dramatically against the counter like he was truly heartbroken.

"Yeah, and I feel so bad." Jungkook deadpanned. "Now, please leave before I throw you out."

He ducked into the bathroom before either of them could protest further.

The second he disappeared, Jimin and Taehyung snapped into action.

"Okay, we have to do something." Jimin whispered.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered around the room before landing on Jungkook’s phone sitting on the kitchen counter. A slow, devious grin spread across his face.

"Don’t." Jimin warned, though he didn’t actually mean it.

Taehyung was already moving, snatching the phone up swiftly.

"We’re just gonna... help him out a little." He said, winking.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

Later, another knock sounded at Jungkook’s door.

He wasted no time opening it, revealing you standing there, smiling brightly. You were also dressed down. To his surprise in some very bright pink sweatpants, which were Ronnie’s, but he would never know. You also wore a very cutesy graphic t-shirt with my melody on it to match the vibe. Nothing wrong with them at all but not your usual vibe but this choice of outfit was more of an experiment.

Jungkook didn’t seem to blink at it.

"You wear glasses?" The words tumbled out before you even said hello, your eyes locked onto the frames perched on his nose.

Jungkook blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, yeah. My contacts were irritating my eyes, so I went with these tonight."

He stepped aside to let you in, watching as you barely moved, still staring at him like he had just unlocked a whole new level of attractiveness.

"No, they’re super cute." You said quickly, almost tripping over your words.

You actually pull your eyes away though as you make your way to the living room. Needing to bite on your something since you were a stupid sucker for glasses on anyone. Realizing Jungkook had indeed gotten most of the snacks you requested and some you assumed were to his preference.

Everything was spread over his coffee table with some precision it seemed, like he thought about where to place things intentionally.

This was a great opener to turn on your new “Charm” that Jin had helped you perfect most of the day earlier. “Awe! This is so sweet Jungkook.” Pitching up your tone almost borderline in a baby voice. Having to fight back at cringing at yourself. Taking a seat down on the couch.

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice, “I tried. I got a couple things for the both of us.” Acting all nonchalant. Strolling around the couch and taking a seat next to you.

You force yourself to giggle a little too obnoxiously. Hitting Jungkook in the chest with a little too much force but in a playful manner, “So what are we watching?”

Jungkook rubs the spot where you hit him, you had much more strength than he gave you credit for. “I was going to let you choose. I’m not too picky when it comes to movies.”

“Oh yay!” You clap your hands together, god you really hated this. This was not you, Jungkook seemed to be a little thrown by your giddiness but it was whatever. You grab the remote he strategically placed on the table. Guess he had prepared for this. “What to pick, the choices are endless.”

Which it actually had you in a small panic, you weren’t ready to have to pick the movie. You had a hard enough time just telling Jungkook what snacks you wanted. While you began to pursue, Jungkook’s phone sounded with the dig from a text. You glanced sideways for a quick second, Jungkook pulling out his phone to see who it was from.

Jungkook's expressions seemed throne and confused by the text that came through. Then another ding. The expression seemed to twist further. Your interest peaked.

“Something wrong?” You look at him, glancing down to his phone then back to him.

Jungkook locks his phone and sets it down on the couch beside him. “No, I think a wrong number is texting me.” His tone is casual, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression.

You nod, turning back toward the TV, scrolling lazily through the endless options. “Okay… are you opposed to any genres?”

“Nope.” He smirks, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. “Do your worst.”

You hum thoughtfully, but you’re already scheming. The goal isn’t to pick a good movie—it’s to pick the worst one possible. Something Jungkook would definitely find boring. But just as you’re debating between a painfully slow documentary or an overly dramatic romance, his phone vibrates again.

And again.

You don’t glance over, but you hear it—persistent, insistent.

Jungkook sighs quietly and checks his screen. More texts.

Taylor: Hey remember me? ;)

Taylor: Busy 2 night?

Taylor: Wanna get a drink??

Taylor: Hello?

He hadn’t hooked up with any Taylors recently. At least, not that he could remember. He locks his phone again, deciding it’s best to ignore it. Hoseok had drilled it into his head not to be on his phone when hanging out with someone—it was rude, and Jungkook actually wanted to be present.

But the buzzing doesn’t stop.

Meanwhile, you keep scrolling, eyes fixed on the screen, but you’ve already started keeping count. How many texts? How many times is he checking? The more his phone vibrates, the more you start tallying numbers in your head.

“Oh! Miss congeniality!” You cheer, a pick that actually really was a favorite of yours. Not a total favorite of any guys you had watched it though.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, glancing at the banner image. “What is it?”

You tuck your legs under yourself, shifting to look at him. “Sandra Bullock is an FBI agent who goes undercover at the Miss United States Pageant to stop a terrorist attack. She gets a really awesome makeover halfway through.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “Alright. I’ll bite.”

“If you hate it, we can change it.”

“No, I always commit once I start a movie.” He didn’t seem to be bullshitting you here.

“Perfect.” You don’t hesitate to hit play.

The movie starts to play and Jungkook seems to actually be true to his word, the two of you sat close but he didn’t try to make a move or anything. He had these big brown doe eyes watching and would smile or laugh a little too himself.

But something still gnaws at you.

His phone sits in his lap, and every time it vibrates, you hear it.

And it’s vibrating a lot.

Jungkook ignores it for as long as he can, but eventually, he caves. One quick glance at the screen, and his stomach drops.

Over thirty new texts.

From Taylor.

Taylor: I CANT BELIEVE YOU

Taylor: YOU DON’T REMEMBER WHO I AM

TAYLOR: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

The texts continued like that. Not to mention he was also getting texts from another girl who he seemingly had no recollection of, Jemma.

Jemma: You aren’t going to tell Taylor that we hooked up right?

Jemma: Jungkook she can’t know she like… super likes you

Jemma: Like for serious likes you

Jemma: Jungkookie?

Jungkook stares at the screen, brain scrambling to place the names. Who the hell are these people? His memory isn’t that bad—if he had hooked up with someone recently, he’d remember. Right? Jungkook sighs and quickly types a response, hoping to shut this down before it gets any worse. Whatever was going on was certainly getting noticeable.

Which you had indeed noticed. You kept tally, and you were trying to find a window when you could use this. When could this play to your advantage tonight?

Jungkook begins to type furiously trying to find something to say that will end this for the night or until he can figure out what is going on another time.

Which is when you take your moment to jump, “Who are you talking too?” You ask casually, looking over at his phone. You had already seen the girl's names on his phone already.

Jungkook immediately pulls his phone closer to his chest. “It’s no one.”

Which was not a lie because Jungkook was trying to figure out who these people were.

Your eyes flick to his phone, knowing full well that’s not true. “You seem to be getting a lot of texts.” You remark, folding your arms. “Seems like someone really needs your attention.”

Jungkook notices but figures he can diffuse the situation once he figures out what's going on. He doesn’t respond but continues wracking his brain for a moment as he looks at the texts trying to place these names.

You take the silence as a good opener, having to psych yourself up a bit. “Who is she?”

Jungkook blinks, finally looking up at you. Your eyes are locked onto him, sharp and expectant. “Huh?”

“The girl you are clearly talking to, who is she?” You pressed, your voice was now more accusing and you were waiting to see what kind of answer he was going to give.

“I’m not–” Almost like on cue Jungkook’s phone begins to ring in his hand. The big bold name Taylor is fully visible on his screen for the both of you. “Oh my god this can’t be happening. I swear I genuinely don’t know who this is.”

“You expect me to believe that? Your phone has been going off all night.” You huff and look away from him and keep your eyes locked on the movie. Having to bite the inside of your cheek so as to not laugh at how ridiculous you sound right now.

Jungkook looks lost. Completely lost. He declines another incoming call, his frustration growing. But the silence only fuels your ‘annoyance.’ He was confused how you immediately Jumped from A to Z so quickly. Jungkook grits his teeth and scrolls through the messages again. He scans every name, every interaction—until finally, it clicks.

Only to come to the realization…

“Oh those fuckers.” Jungkook says under his breath. “I will be right back.”

Your eyes widened because was he really going to leave while you were upset right now? Fake upset but still. “You’re actually going to take that call?”

“It’s not what it looks like, just let me take care of this. Then I will clear this all up.”

“Not what it looks like? It looks like you’re going to take another phone call with another girl during the movie? Are you serious?” You wave your arms around a little dramatically but it sells it.

Jungkook is unsure of how to navigate this. “I just need to resolve this so that we are no longer interrupted. I swear it’s not what it looks like.”

Jungkook gets another call from the “mysterious” Taylor. Jungkook answering it and stepping out the front door of his place to take the call, “You guys are really fucked up you know that?”

There’s a dramatic throat clearing on the other end, followed by an overly high-pitched voice. “What do you mean, Jungkookie? I’m Taylor.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, exhaling sharply. “Had your fun? Played your games?”

There’s muffled laughter, and then Jimin’s voice replaces Taehyung’s. “We were just screwing with you, man. We were pissed you bailed on us. By the way, how’s your date going?”

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. “Thanks to you two idiots, she thinks I’m screwing around. So not great.”

“Oh no.” Taehyung deadpans. “So sad. Taehyung's voice mocked Jungkook but Jungkook was actually mad.

You were already hesitant to date him in the first place and this looked really bad. Your reaction may have been a little strong… and confusing since you were pretty rational. It did look bad though and Jungkook couldn’t deny that.

“Fuck you guys.” He mutters. “We were actually having a nice time.”

“You never said we couldn’t interfere.”

Jungkook ran a hand over his face. “Because that’s fucking insane? I didn’t think I had to say it.”

“Fine, you’re no fun. We won’t interfere from here on out.” Jimin swears” Jimin’s voice was mockingly sincere but Taehyung wasn’t going to make the same promise.

“Goodnight.” Jungkook was too annoyed to deal with them anymore.

“I hope she dumps you-” Taehyung calls into the phone as Jungkook didn’t even dignify that with a response; just hung up and shoved his phone into his pocket. He let out a slow breath before heading back inside.

The apartment felt heavier than before, quieter, except for the hum of the movie still playing in the background. You were still on the couch, but your posture had changed. You weren’t curled up comfortably anymore; instead, you sat stiffly, chewing on popcorn in the kind of silence that was loud. You wish you could see yourself, it was a very convincing performance after all.

Jungkook hesitated before stepping closer. “I’m sorry about that.”

You didn’t even look at him. “Yeah, okay.”

He winced. “You’re mad.”

“Well, duh, Jungkook.” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as you stared at the screen. “You were texting and talking through the movie when we were supposed to be hanging out. If you’d rather be somewhere else, you could’ve just said so.”

Jungkook sat down beside you, carefully, like you might bolt at any second. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.” His voice was quieter now, sincere. “I’ve really liked getting to know you. I actually wanted to watch this with you, but my idiot friends decided to mess with me.”

You shot him a skeptical glance. “Friends. Right.”

“I swear.” Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “They were pissed I bailed on them tonight, so they changed their names on my phone, spammed me, and set me up.”

You hesitated, but Jungkook was already unlocking his phone. He scrolled up in his messages, showing you the texts. “See? Just last week, their real names were still here. This whole thing was just them being assholes.”

You narrowed your eyes at the screen, scanning the evidence. A pause. Then, finally—“Wow. Your friends kinda suck.”

Jungkook let out a relieved laugh. “Just a little.” He shook his head. “They thought it would be funny. And, okay, maybe it was—”

“It wasn’t.” You deadpanned.

He smirked. “Yeah well, not for me.”

You sighed, your shoulders relaxing just a little. “I guess I… overreacted. I just have a thing about people being on their phones during movies.” You scratched the side of your head, looking slightly sheepish.

Jungkook grinned, happy to take the win. “No more phone.” He picked it up and placed it far away on the couch. “Easy.”

It was a nice gesture but completely unnecessary. “You’re cute but it’s alright.”

“Nah. No more phone. I’ll never look at it again.” He teases as he scoots close to you, “You’re much more interesting to look at anyways.”

“Wow, that was really cheesy.” You teased, shaking your head.

Jungkook just grinned.

Despite the earlier hiccup, the night had settled into something easy and comfortable. You rewound the movie to the parts he missed, both of you sinking back into the cushions as if nothing had happened. There was no tension, no lingering frustration—just soft laughter, playful commentary, and the occasional reach into the snack pile.

“Okay, but like, I would let Sandra Bullock beat me up too.” Jungkook commented, nodding in approval at the screen.

You turned to him, raising a suspicious brow. “Masochist?”

“I’ll never tell.” His smirk was effortless, teasing, but what you hadn’t quite realized was how close the two of you had shifted throughout the night. Your legs had found their way over his lap at some point, and his arm was draped lazily around your shoulders, his bicep doubling as a makeshift pillow. His other hand rested absentmindedly over your calf, tracing absent-minded patterns against the fabric of your sweatpants.

Jungkook couldn’t remember the last time he had just sat with someone like this—no expectations, no rush, just the quiet hum of companionship. It was… nice.

You, on the other hand, were still determined to find another opening to be difficult, but as the night wore on, you were reluctantly realizing that you might have to try again another time.

Jungkook had kept his word, his phone untouched for the rest of the evening. Not that he was missing much. Whatever was happening in the group chat could wait—he was too busy being here. With you.

“You’re all techy and whatever.” You mused, tilting your head up at him. “Would you ever be an FBI agent?”

Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head. “Not a chance. I don’t think I’m smart enough to foil a terrorist plot… or go undercover without blowing my own cover.” He absentmindedly played with his lip ring, his voice dipping into something thoughtful. “What about you?”

You exhaled a small laugh. “Yeah, no. I’m a writer, not an agent, that’s for sure.” You paused, considering it for a moment before adding, “Although, I think I could do undercover.”

Jungkook glanced at you, intrigued. “Oh yeah? You could be a Gracie Lou Freebush?” He referenced Sandra Bullock’s alias in the movie.

“Oh, absolutely.” You said with zero hesitation. “Plus, I’ve interviewed and hung out with a lot of pageant girls in the past for my writing.”

His brows lifted in genuine interest. “Wait, what? How come?”

“I did a piece in college about pageantry and got to know a lot of girls who did it professionally. They were really sweet, honestly.”

“That’s so cool.” His voice was laced with admiration. “What else have you written?”

You hesitated, suddenly shy. “Oh god, I’ve written about a lot of things, but nothing worth the time.”

“That can’t be true.” Jungkook’s voice softened, his curiosity undeniably genuine. “I’d love to read something… I mean, if you’ll let me.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. His big, expectant eyes searched yours, but there was no teasing, no ulterior motive—just pure interest.

A warm flush crept onto your cheeks. “Okay.” You murmured, cursing the lovesick way your voice wavered. “Maybe I can find something that’s not totally terrible.”

Jungkook grinned like you’d just given him a prize.

Neither of you had been paying much attention to the screen, and at some point, the movie had ended.

“Alright, your turn.” You pat Jungkook’s arm, the one still draped around you, before shifting your legs from his lap, giving him space in case he needs to move.

Jungkook leans over to the coffee table and retrieves the remote from the coffee table. Shuffling through the choices. He thought for a moment what he should select. If he should stay on the romance vein or go down another path.

Eventually landing on, definitely a left turn movie for the night.

“Okay, I know this totally changes the tone, but I love this movie.” He clicks on Across the Spider-Verse. “The animation is insane, and I really love Spider-Man.”

You laugh. “You don’t have to sell it to me. I’ve seen it before.”

“Good.” His excitement is almost tangible. “I’ve been wanting to rewatch it.”

Without a second thought, Jungkook casually lifts your legs back over his lap, a move that catches you off guard.

“I was cold.” He feigns innocence.

“Uh-huh, I super believe you.” You giggle, settling back against his arm just as the movie begins.

You couldn’t have gotten a minute in before you felt your phone vibrate like you were getting a call. It was in your pocket and you intended to silence it but you wouldn’t be so lucky to ignore it. Your mom’s ID popping up on the screen. You pretty quickly decline it, hoping, no praying it wouldn’t be pushed further than that. That was until the text that it was immediately followed up with.

Mom: Baby I’m coming over. You keep ignoring me.

Mom: I have so much to tell you about!!!!!!

Oh no. Oh no no no.

She was going to your place. You aren’t at your place.

Panic spreads like ice through your veins. You sat up in your place away from Jungkook, hiding the sick feeling that spread across your face. You had to call her. If you didn’t call her back she would go to your place and ask so many questions. She didn’t have a key but she would still manage to get in. Right after you just made that whole stink about Jungkook being on the phone earlier.

You couldn’t ignore her. You have to call her back.

She won’t let it go.

Jungkook was worried for a second when you moved away from him so suddenly and now you were suddenly standing.

“I’m so sorry.” Your voice is tense. “I need to take a call.” You hesitate before meeting his gaze. “It’ll just be a second—I need to step into the hall.”

Jungkook for a second almost doesn’t think about it but you just made a whole fuss about him taking a call. “Are you serious?”

“I know.” You say quickly. “I know what I said.”

“Is this a joke?”

“No.” Your phone vibrates again. Another text.

Mom: I’ll be there in 30 minutes.

Shit.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, already moving. You weave around the couch, heading straight for the front door before Jungkook can protest.

You shove your feet into your shoes and step into the hall, needing somewhere private; somewhere your mom won’t hear even the faintest trace of Jungkook in the background.

The elevator.

You dial her number and you press the button for the elevator to go to the first floor. The phone on the other end ringing for what felt like forever in your ear. Feeling more and more sick to your stomach with each ring. Dreading hearing her voice on the other side.

The line picked up as you reached the first floor. “Baby!” Your mom’s voice bursts through the speaker, cheerful and chipper like she hadn’t just threatened to ambush you. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Yeah, I know. Mom, why are you going to my place right now?” A headache forming in the back of your mind.

She sighs dramatically. “I miss you, baby. I’ve been gone for three months!”

“Yes Mom-...”

“And yet, you don’t even want to talk to your own mother?” Her voice shifts, just enough to press guilt into your ribs. Her saddened voice on the other end, hitting you in the same familiar place in your gut.

You exhale slowly, biting down the automatic frustration. If you say the wrong thing, she’ll cry. If she cries, you’ll have to go see her. “Of course I want to talk to you.” You say carefully. “I’d love to talk. But I’m busy.”

“Busy with what? Where are you?” Her interest clearly piqued that you could possibly have plans that had nothing to do with her.

“I’m out with some friends. Nothing special.” There is zero chance you’re mentioning Jungkook.

“Oh no, no, no. How many times have I told you those friends of yours are no good?” Her voice is all silk. “Come meet me somewhere instead.”

“How about I come see you later this week mom. I am busy with a work project but I’m all yours later this week…” You grit your teeth. You hope this might be enough and she hums on the other end.

“All weekend?” She counters. “I get to have you all weekend? I just miss you, baby. And I have so many clothes from Europe that don’t fit me right—you’ll love them.” Typical. Dumping overpriced, ill-fitting designer pieces onto you so she doesn’t have to feel wasteful.

“Yes. We can go through them together.” You nod to the air around you almost like she was here or that she could see you. Like the look on your face right now wouldn’t send her into an immediate spiral.

“Oh, perfect! I’m so excited.” She cheers on the other end and it in some sick way brings a smile to your face.

“Okay I really do have to go.”

“Alright, baby. Call me tomorrow!” She sounds almost… normal. But you know better. If you don’t call tomorrow, she won’t let it go.

The moment the call disconnects, you sag against the elevator wall, pressing your palms to your face. Needing something to bring the anxiety that had welled up in your chest back down to a normal level. Your fingers tremble slightly, the weight of the conversation settling in like lead in your stomach.

This was such a bad time for your mom to be back in town. If she got even a whiff of your promotion, she’d find a way to turn it into something about her. And if she caught onto whatever this… thing was between you and Jungkook, she’d find a way to ruin it.

Maybe you should just sic her on Jungkook. That would send him running for sure.

In hindsight, if this were any other date, it would probably look bad. You had disappeared in the middle of the night, left without much of an explanation, and now, you were returning like nothing had happened. It felt messy, inconsiderate even. But everything with your mom is an emergency.

The problem is, you can’t say that.

With that thought, you start the slow walk of shame back to his apartment. The door is still unlocked from when you left, and as you step inside, the difference is immediate. The air feels stiff. The movie was stopped. The room is too quiet. You slowly stepped further inside, Jungkook was leaning against his counter looking at something on his phone.

You hesitated, stepping inside and slipping off your shoes. "Sorry about that." You said quietly.

Jungkook doesn’t look up right away. "It’s… fine."

It isn’t.

Not really.

It’s obvious in the clipped way he says it, in the tension sitting in his shoulders. He’s irritated, trying not to show it, but you can feel it lingering between you.

And honestly? You get it.

You were the one who had made a big deal about him being on his phone earlier. You were the one who rolled your eyes at him answering a call, told him to be present. Then, the moment your own phone rang, you left the apartment with little word.

So yeah, you get it.

"It was just an emergency." You offer, though even you can hear how weak of an excuse it sounds.

Jungkook finally glances up then, dark eyes flicking to yours. "Right. Just a little frustrating though, don’t you think?"

Your stomach twists. "I know."

He exhales sharply, shaking his head as he sets his phone down on the counter. "I mean, you gave me so much shit about being on mine. Accused me of something you didn’t have any information about. Then you not only take your call—you leave the floor for it."

"I get it." You say quickly. "I do. And you’re right. It was hypocritical of me."

Jungkook studies you for a moment, expression unreadable. His voice is quieter when he speaks again. "Was there a reason you had to take your call downstairs?"

“What?”

“Well I stepped into the hall to make sure everything was okay but you had totally fled the floor. What’s up?” Jungkook coming off even more defensive now

You freeze for a fraction of a second, caught off guard.

"I—" You start, before quickly regaining composure. "It was private."

Jungkook’s brows lift slightly. "And mine wasn’t?"

You inhale, feeling an edge of frustration creep in now, not necessarily at him, but at this entire situation. At how suddenly complicated something as simple as a movie night had become. How your mom had complicated a simple movie night. Something for your job.

Then you remember. This was for your job. The thing that got you into this situation, for one reason only…

So you switched gears "You were being really suspicious and weird about who you were talking to. Plus who even calls people anymore.” You say, keeping your voice measured.

Jungkook lets out an incredulous laugh. “You literally just took a call.”

“Yeah, but mine was an emergency,” You stress, as if that explains anything.

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, so when I answer my phone, I’m talking to some girl, but when you answer yours, it’s a crisis hotline?”

You shrug. “Correct.”

Jungkook pauses having to think about what was even going on before bouncing back, “Yours seemed much more like a call from another guy than mine seemed like a call from another girl.” Jungkook was frustrated but he was falling back on an old habit. He was falling into that old routine of finding an excuse to run. Except he couldn’t in this situation, so he needed to switch gears just like you.

You let out a slow breath. Acting a little too casual for the situation at hand. "Maybe we call it a night, doesn’t seem like we will see eye to eye on this.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a moment, but eventually, he nods, stepping away from the counter. "Yeah." He mutters. "Probably for the best."

You don’t miss the way his voice shifts, slightly more closed off than before, and something about it stings more than you expect it to.

But you don’t say anything else.

Instead, you slip your other shoes back on, grab your things and leave. It wasn’t okay for him to just automatically assume that you were talking to another guy. Then again that's exactly how you started. It didn’t matter though, having this night go wrong actually helps. It helps push Jungkook away and maybe after tonight he might ghost you who knows.

It would certainly make your article short but you could make a good narrative, losing a guy in 6 days.

Still a small pang of guilt was eating at your stomach. Usually you would fight to explain yourself but you were doing your best to fight those normal instincts. This was the assignment, even if a part of you was actually starting to like Jungkook a little bit. He put in a lot of effort for just a few dates which was completely unexpected.

Maybe in another life where you didn’t have to act insane.

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7-deadly-cats · 1 month ago

Text

killing me softly (part four)

genre: she fell first, he fell harder; fluff with hints of angst; drama; no explicit smut

kms masterlist | <- part three | part five ->

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, suggestive language, overthinking, light tension

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and you were paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week long project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if you weren't awkward as hell and well ... if there weren't your big fat crush on him. could this be the beginning of a friendship or maybe even more? one thing was certain: rafe cameron was intense, impulsive, and complex in ways that weren't always for the better, and your mind? that shit was even more tangled. but you hadn't spent all these years crushing on him from a distance just to let this chance slip through your fingers ... right?

summary of recent events: you spent the day overthinking after rafe had texted you out of nowhere almost immediately after your first project session. waiting for his response, you ended up distracting yourself at the beach with cara where no one other than jj maybank interrupted your little hangout. later at home, you find yourself enjoying texting with rafe and you even agree to another project session for the next day.

word count: 4.5k+

a/n: this one's longer than the last three, whoopsie. also, fyi molly will play an important role later (for the better or worse 😇), so she’s not just a random boring side character i came up with lol. plus, replaced the “slow burn” genre tag with “she fell first, he fell harder” bc it fits better (i still don’t wanna rush things). anyway, i hope you guys enjoy, and i'd love to hear what you think about this part <3

With tired eyes, you sank into your seat next to Cara in the third row of the bio lab. Getting out of bed this morning had been a struggle.

And to make things worse, it was Tuesday—first period biology with Mr. Martin, the oldest and slowest-talking teacher at Kildare Academy. On top of that, you’d barely gotten any sleep last night because the events of yesterday had kept you up.

In seven years, you’d exchanged maybe a handful of sentences with Rafe Cameron, and then suddenly—BOOM. Project partners. A shared lunch. And then you’d texted with him. For someone who usually did the bare minimum when it came to their crushes, this was a full 180.

Of course, you couldn’t stop obsessing over how awkward you’d been during lunch yesterday, not to mention the horrible 'fuckboy' misunderstanding ??? And oh God—that had just triggered a full mental highlight reel of every embarrassing moment in your life.

Diagnosis: chronic overthinker.

“I saw Rafe in the parking lot earlier,” Cara murmured, a wide grin spreading across her face. “And girl, he looked hot. And I don’t mean frat boy Cameron hot—I mean, there’s-something-different-about-him hot. I was gonna take a picture for you but knowing my luck, the flash would've gone off.”

You stifled a laugh. “Very thoughtful of you, C, but I’m gonna see him later anyway.”

“Ooooh, so you guys set up a second date?” she teased, nudging you with her elbow. “One day after the first? That’s moving fast.”

Heat rushed to your face and you smiled sheepishly. “I was referring to Economics class. But yeah, we did set up another meeting for the project.”

“Mhmm, for the project…” Cara smirked.

You twirled your Apple Pencil between your fingers and rolled your eyes, amused. “You’re reading too much into it.”

Cara raised an eyebrow. “And you’re not reading into it enough. He went out of his way to get your number when he could’ve just asked you at school. Hell, he probably could’ve found it in some random party or class group chat. But no—he made it a point to track it down, which, by the way, is basically his way of showing interest. And now, he’s making plans to see you again. Rafe isn’t exactly known for putting effort into schoolwork. So yeah, safe to say it’s not just about the project.”

Her words were dangerous because they gave you something you really didn’t need—false hope. And sure, everything she was saying kind of made sense. But you knew better.

“Maybe, but we don’t know that. So there’s no point in getting all delulu,” you said quietly.

“Oh, Y/N!” Cara’s voice came out louder than intended, earning her a sharp look from Mr. Martin.

Her cheeks flushed pink, and she mumbled an apology in her best teacher’s pet voice before turning back to you. “With that attitude, nothing’s ever gonna happen.”

She wasn’t wrong. But wasn’t this just you being realistic?

“I'm not saying play easy to get but also don't choose to not play at all,” she urged. “Rafe might seem untouchable but he’s just a guy. A very attractive one, but still—a guy.”

Shit, yeah, she's right.

You nodded, then met her gaze with a small smirk, remembering the chat with Rafe yesterday. “By the way, he’s just as much of a Ruthie hater as we are.”

Cara clasped her hands together dramatically. “Oh, I love that. Bet Cameron has some top-tier gossip. You know he’s got insider knowledge.”

You bit back a laugh. “Guess I have to recruit him now.”

“That’s the spirit!”

-----------------------------------------------

Next up was geography. Molly Crane slid into the seat beside you, her red hair styled into an effortlessly pretty updo.

“You look way better today,” she noted, referring to yesterday’s little bathroom meltdown before you met with Rafe.

You smiled. “Yeah, turns out the milk in my cereal was expired,” you lied, feeling a pang of guilt.

“Oh no,” she winced. “That happened to me once. I was stuck in bed for two days with stomach cramps. But glad you recovered quickly.”

Her laugh was infectious, and you found yourself grinning along.

Molly was genuinely the sweetest person in Figure 8. Honestly, you couldn’t understand how she wasn’t already in a relationship. She even worked part-time at a smoothie shop run by some old Pogue guy who couldn't do it anymore.

God created Ruthie Whitmore and sent Molly Crane as an apology.

Speaking of Ruthie… You had the privilege of spending the next two periods in her delightful presence.

Her obnoxiously loud voice was already ringing through the hallway, carrying over from inside the classroom.

As much as she pissed you off, you couldn’t ignore the fact that you were excited to see Rafe again. Texting with him last night had been fun—but today, there’d be no screen to hide behind.

It’s fine. You got this.

When you stepped into class, most students were already seated—either talking about last weekend’s party or flexing about their latest Daddy-funded luxury cars. Others, like you, had just gotten back from break and were still finding a seat.

Ruthie, of course, was at the front, wearing a tight top with an obnoxiously low neckline, deep in conversation with her best friend about… whatever. Who cared? Why were you even listening?

Just as you set your bag down in your usual window seat in the front row, a voice spoke beside you. “Do you really wanna do this to yourself?”

You blinked, stunned, and looked up—straight into Rafe Cameron’s smug grin.

His storm-blue polo made his eyes pop in an almost criminal way. It also clung just right to his frame, and holy fucking shit, he smelled so good.

And Cara had been right—something was different. He looked even better than usual… somehow even more confident than he already was.

Oh, great. Here we go again.

Your face heated as you gave him a confused smile. “What?”

“Ruthie,” he said flatly. For a split second, you thought she might turn around in offense, but she was too busy running her mouth to notice.

You raised a brow at him, to which he just scoffed, clearly unbothered. “She knows I don’t fuck with her.”

Literally or figuratively?

Wow, chill.

Still, you weren’t entirely sure where he was going with this. You fiddled with the strap of your bag. “It’s not like I can just go sit on the other side of the school.”

Hadn’t we agreed—no more dumb jokes?

Rafe huffed out a small laugh, then tipped his chin toward the back of the room. “Last row should be far enough.”

…

Was that—was that an invitation? Shit. YES.

OKAY, UM—

You stared at him, a little too stunned to respond. If he hadn’t meant it like that, this would be beyond awkward.

Rafe raised a brow, his smirk widening. “So you are a nerd.”

And with that, he turned and walked toward the back of the class.

IT WAS AN INVITATION.

FUCK FUCK FUCK, MOVE, YOU IDIOT.

You clenched your jaw, shoving past the second-guessing thoughts trying to creep in—and followed him.

You almost walked right into him when he stopped at the row of desks by the window. A knowing smirk played on his lips as he glanced back at you. “Rebellious.”

Heat rushed to your face as you furrowed your brows. “I just don’t wanna be labeled a nerd.”

For a moment, something familiar flickered across Rafe’s face but before he could respond, Mr. Collins' voice cut through the room.

“Whew, okay, sorry for the delay, guys. Had a little incident in the teachers' lounge.” He cleared his throat, then his gaze landed on the back row. “Cameron, Y/L/N, flirting's reserved for after class. Now sit down if you would.”

Holy fucking shit. Not even noon, and today was already a disaster.

All eyes were on you. Some students let out a general chuckle, while others (the girls, let’s be honest) rolled their eyes or shot you two —specifically you—annoyed looks.

Heat spread across your face like wildfire as you quickly dropped into the chair next to Rafe—only for your bag, still slung over your shoulder, to nearly body-slam his right side.

“Jesus, is your dad Mike Tyson or something?” Rafe muttered, rubbing his arm with an amused smirk.

Okay. That’s it. You’re cursed. There was no other explanation for the absolute insanity of the last two days.

At least most of the class had already turned back around to listen to Collins ramble about some irrelevant teacher drama.

Face burning, you yanked your bag onto your lap. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. You okay?”

Rafe huffed a quiet laugh, nodding. “The Golden Shore's looking for a bodyguard. Might wanna apply.”

You stared at him for a second before raising a brow, unable to hold back your tongue. “I’d rather crash a Cut house party than step foot in that place again.”

The Golden Shore was the peak of Kook pretentiousness. You’d visited this nightclub once with Cara and some other friends but 99% of the people were just there to show off their expensive clothes and jewelry, not to actually have fun. Not all Kooks were like that, obviously, but that club attracted the absolute worst of them.

Rafe raised a brow, looking more confused than amused. “And I’d rather shoot myself than hang out with a Pogue.”

You smiled, but it faded fast when you realized… he actually meant that.

“I thought your dad was originally from the Cut.”

Okay. That did not sit well with him.

Rafe’s jaw tightened as he tilted his head, an irritated smile creeping onto his face—one that sent a weird, uncomfortable feeling through you. “The fuck do you know about my dad?”

Thin ice, Y/N. Very thin ice.

“I just mean—”

“What? You think you're better because both your parents grew up in Figure 8?” His tone was sharp enough that a few students in front of you turned their heads.

First of all, how the fuck did he know that? And second, what the hell was his problem?

You scowled, shaking your head in frustration. “What? No!”, you shot back, harsher than you intended. “What does someone’s background have to do with whether they’re ‘better’? This—I don’t give a shit about stuff like that. If anything, it’s impressive how your dad worked his way up. That just makes him even more respectable, doesn’t it?”

And there it was again—that look. Slightly raised brows, eyes subtly widening, lips pressed together like he wasn’t sure how to respond.

But just as quickly, it disappeared behind a lopsided smirk. “Shit. I thought that attitude yesterday was just an act.”

Now you didn’t know how to respond.

Was he messing with you? Or was he just covering up how ridiculously over-the-top his reaction had been?

Something told you it was both, and for some reason, that left you feeling… unsettled. Rafe’s moods flipped so fast, you didn’t know what to make of it.

For now, you decided to go along with it.

You gave a small, awkward shrug, your eyes flickering down to your fidgeting fingers. “This got nothing to do with attitude. I'm just saying what I think.”

“So do I,” he replied, but the sharpness from earlier was gone, replaced by something more playful—almost like a challenge.

You met his gaze, and for a second, you swore he was testing the waters again. But for what?

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Mr. Collins cut in loudly. “Since you and Mr. Cameron seem to be deep in discussion, I assume you were just going over the answer to my question?”

Oh. Fuck.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Of course, you had no idea what he was talking about, and by the look on his face, he knew it too.

Even worse, half the class was now staring at you like you and Rafe had just gotten caught doing something inappropriate.

You forced a polite smile, ignoring Ruthie’s smug expression from across the room. “Could you repeat the question, sir? Just to make sure I heard it correctly.”

Collins’ lips twitched slightly. “Of course. When two companies are in direct competition but neither wants to be the first to lower their prices, what economic principle is at play?”

Economic principle… how the fuck would I know? Shit. It's some kind of theory, right?

You felt heat creeping up your neck.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Rafe rubbing his nose. Barely audible, he muttered, “Prisoner’s dilemma.”

Good enough.

“That would be the prisoner’s dilemma,” you answered.

Collins nodded, but without breaking eye contact with you, he said, “Correct. Thank you, Mr. Cameron.”

Shit.

“Would you care to explain the origins of that theory?” This time, his question was directed at Rafe.

“It’s a classic game theory move,” Rafe said, not missing a beat. “If one company cuts its prices, they get more customers, sure. But if both drop their prices at the same time, they both lose out. So, neither does it—nobody wants to be the one getting screwed over.”

Holy shit.

Collins nodded again. “Can you give me a real-world example?”

Rafe shrugged. “Seabrook Club and Bluewater Country Club. They both want to attract the richest members but if one suddenly lowered their membership fees, it’d make them seem less exclusive or some shit. So they both keep prices high because neither wants to lose that luxury appeal.”

Okay. The confidence with which he just laid all of that out was so fucking attractive, you almost forgot to breathe.

“Very good. Thank you, Mr. Cameron,” Collins said, looking pleased. Then he turned back to you. “Perhaps next time, Ms. Y/L/N, you’ll focus a little more on my lesson—rather than your new seatmate.”

Yeah. And you really thought this day couldn’t get any more humiliating.

-----------------------------------------------

After the absolute train wreck that Economics had been, you were beyond relieved to hear the bell finally ring.

At least you’d managed to avoid a third public humiliation. Not that it couldn’t still happen at some point…

Rafe, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered. When you’d awkwardly thanked him for saving your ass, he’d just shrugged and said, “If you hadn’t answered, Collins would’ve called on Ruthie, and I wasn’t in the mood for that shitshow.”

Still, it had been a nice gesture—even if Collins had definitely seen right through it.

Not that you’d been able to focus on anything for the rest of class anyway. First, your brain had been stuck in an endless replay of your mortifying failures. And second—YOU HAD BEEN SITTING MERE INCHES AWAY FROM RAFE CAMERON.

Not across from him. Not at the table next to him. No, right fucking next to him. Sometimes, your elbows almost brushed, and—Jesus Christ, what the hell was in his aftershave? Crack? He smelled insanely good. If you’d been ovulating, you probably would have jumped him like some rabid werewolf.

You almost laughed at the thought. As if. You were about as far from that kind of action as one could possibly be—taking a walk to the sun seemed more realistic.

And even though class was finally over, the stress and heart palpitations weren’t. Because now, you still had to get through working on that damn art project.

Which meant—at least, you thought it did, since you hadn’t talked about it since yesterday—that you and Rafe would be eating lunch together again.

Unless, of course, he was already sick of your constant embarrassment and decided to eat somewhere else instead.

Honestly? You wouldn’t blame him.

As you packed up your things, you caught a glimpse of Rafe checking something on his phone, his brows pulling together slightly. Then you felt his gaze shift to you.

Oh God—had he noticed you—

“Shit, I totally forgot Kelce wanted to make pizza at his place today,” he muttered, sounding somewhere between annoyed and indifferent. Whether that irritation was real or just for show, you had no clue.

Okay… two options here: Either he actually forgot, or he was using this as an excuse because he’d just realized you were a walking magnet for awkward situations (as if that wasn’t already obvious from the start).

You forced a casual smile, trying to ignore the tiny pang of disappointment. “No worries, we’ll just reschedule.”

Rafe slung his backpack over one shoulder, then, in the most unfazed way, he said, “Or you could join us.”

ALERT. ALERT. BRAIN SHUTTING DOWN.

Wait, what? Was he serious? Was he messing with you? WHAT THE HELL WAS HAPPENING???

This had to be a joke. Why would he want his random project partner crashing whatever hangout he had planned with his friends?

Completely overwhelmed, all you could manage was a dumb, “To Kelce’s…?”

The worst part? It wasn’t what you'd said. It was how you'd said it—like Kelce was some kind of bizarre alien creature that simultaneously confused and disgusted you. (Which, okay, wasn’t that far from the truth if you were being honest.)

You opened your mouth to correct yourself but Rafe beat you to it with an amused scoff. “Shit, now that I think about it, I’m not sure I wanna eat his pizza either. He’s been on some insane gym grind lately, probably stuffing two pounds of protein into the dough.”

You let out a breathy laugh, cheeks still warm. “Sounds like you don’t exactly share his enthusiasm.”

“Oh, I do.” Rafe lifted his brows challenging, adjusting his backpack strap just enough for his bicep to flex slightly—barely noticeable, but definitely intentional. “I just don’t need to be on the same type of shit he’s on.”

Of course, your eyes immediately dropped to his arm and of course, you turned bright red. And because the universe had clearly decided to make you suffer today, of course, he noticed and that smug-ass smile crept onto his face.

SAY SOMETHING. QUICK. BEFORE THIS GETS EVEN MORE AWKWARD.

“Yeah, then I definitely don’t wanna mess up your grind,” you blurted out with an awkward smile. “Besides, I wouldn’t wanna just show up unannounced.”

Rafe shrugged, furrowing his brows slightly as he pressed his lips together in a careless meh. “Don’t give a shit what they think. Kelce brings some random chick to our hangouts all the time.”

Okay. And how exactly were you supposed to take that?!

Was he just saying it to prove that it was okay for him to bring people along, no matter who? Or—and this was the part that sent a weird, uncomfortable feeling through you—was he putting you on the same level as one of Kelce’s random hookups?

The second option made something twist in your stomach, and none of those feelings were particularly pleasant.

“Shit, don’t make that face,” he said with an amused but slightly exasperated smirk. “It’s not like I’m inviting you over to fuck or some shit.”

WHAT THE FUCK. WHY WAS HE SO STRAIGHTFORWARD???

Your stomach dropped, and the heat in your face flared up all over again. You quickly shook your head, brows furrowing. “What?! No, what the fuck—I know!”

TOTALLY BELIEVABLE.

Rafe held your gaze for a moment, then slowly nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Good. Then let’s go.”

-----------------------------------------------

The door of the Mercedes swung open, and Rafe slid into the driver’s seat. With a furrowed brow, he tossed the keys onto the dashboard and dropped a wad of cash into the center console.

He looked… pissed.

Which, in turn, made your nerves tense because an entire car ride filled with awkward silence would actually kill you.

You fiddled with the strap of your bag in your lap, and even though it wasn’t really your business, you found yourself asking, “Everything okay?”

Rafe frowned, eyeing you irritated, then he shook his head, fastening his seatbelt. “Yeah. That guy's just a fucking idiot.”

You nodded, immediately regretting having agreed to this. Sitting here felt weird. Wrong. Surreal.

And as Rafe pulled out of the parking lot, you couldn’t help but wonder how many girls had already sat in this seat before you.

That, in turn, made you feel ashamed because it wasn’t your place to care. You had no right to judge him for anything.

I’m not his hookup, not his date, and definitely not his girlfriend. I’m his project partner in what’s probably the most boring class of his life.

Ugh, Y/N, drop that pick-me mindset immediately.

You pulled your bag a little closer and turned to stare out the window.

It was so embarrassing but this whole situation was stressing you the fuck out. It was just too much change all at once. On top of that, Rafe was—objectively—a very complicated person. He was impossible to read and you were never a hundred percent sure when he was joking, maybe flirting, messing with you, or actually being serious.

It was overwhelming, to say the least.

At the same time, the whole concept of Rafe Cameron was finally starting to take some kind of shape. He was still practically a stranger, but there was a certain thrill to figuring him out—to see what kind of person your longtime crush actually was.

“What?” Rafe’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

You blinked, turning your head slightly. “Huh?”

A knowing smirk tugged at his lips but his gaze stayed on the road. “Don’t tell me I scared you off earlier.”

His words came back to your mind. It’s not like I’m inviting you over to fuck or some shit.

You frowned, cheeks pink. “What? No, of course not. I can take a joke.”

Rafe raised a brow, glancing at you for a second. “Then why am I receiving bad vibes from your end?”

Despite yourself, you smiled. “I'm not giving off 'bad vibes'.”

“Oh, you definitely are,” he shot back, waving a hand vaguely in your direction. “Arms crossed, legs locked together, staring dramatically out the window like you’re in some—pfft, I don’t know—some shitty Netflix movie or some shit.”

A quiet laugh left your lips, and warmth crept into your cheeks. “I... just don’t think your friends will be thrilled to have me randomly show up at Kelce’s,” you admitted.

“Shit, you’re nervous about Kelce and Topper?” Rafe looked genuinely amused and met your eyes for a second. “Kelce constantly talks out of his ass, and Topper doesn’t say shit when it actually matters. They're gonna disappear the second we start working on this art stuff.”

…

Was this his weird way of reassuring you? Because if it was, it was kind of working.

You glanced down, smiling slightly to yourself. “I’m just saying, I would’ve been fine with rescheduling. I feel bad crashing your little guy hangout with school-related business.”

Rafe shook his head, scoffing amused (or annoyed, you couldn't quite tell). “You scared hanging out with three guys or what exactly is your problem?"

Yes.

"No", you replied irritated, yet cheeks heating up. "Of course not. All I’m saying is you didn’t need to rearrange your plans."

Rafe’s brows twitched into a furrow for a second, then a cocky smile spread across his face. "Shit, you think you’re receiving some kind of princess treatment? I'm not rearranging my plans for you, I'm combining two things that happen to fit into my schedule."

Princess— what the fuck?

You shook your head, face flushed. “I—don’t twist my words.”

“I’m not. I asked if you wanted to come along and you said yes.” He shrugged. “And now you make it seem like a problem.”

Shit, he was right.

“I know”, you said, shaking your head. “I mean, I just thought—“

“Yeah, you think too much”, he replied mockingly locking eyes with you for a second.

"That's not..." You hesitated, then gave a resigned nod. “I know.”

There was no point in hiding the truth, especially if he'd noticed.

You caught the flicker in Rafe’s expression— he’d been expecting a comeback, not a quiet agreement.

When the car slowed to a stop at a red light, he leaned over without a word, reaching for the glove compartment. Instinctively, you shifted your legs toward the door.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, opening it and grabbing something before tossing it onto your lap.

You flinched as the cool, colorful object touched your skin, raising an eyebrow. “A fidget spinner?” you asked, letting out a baffled laugh.

“Wheezie’s,” he said, leaning back into his seat. “Makes her shut up when I drive her to volleyball practice.”

Okay, first of all, he was driving his little sister to volleyball practice? Very cute. Second, what the fuck was that supposed to mean?

You smiled uncertainly, raising a brow at him. “So, you want me to shut up?", you carefully asked.

He scoffed, driving on as the light turned green. “Sure because you're such a bigmouth." Then he shook his head, gesturing with his hand in your direction. "Nah, your nervousness is just pissing me off", he said but there was no real bite in his tone.

Your cheeks flushed as you struggled to come up with a response. It was obvious you were kinda anxious given the circumstances, so there was no point in denying it.

Absentmindedly, you spun the fidget spinner between your fingers, watching it whirl. Oddly enough, it worked—it helped you settle your nerves and quiet your thoughts.

Or maybe it was the thought that, in his own strange way, Rafe was trying to calm you down.

A warm smile tugged at your lips as you kept your eyes on the spinning toy. “Your sister seems pretty cool.”

Rafe scoffed amused. “She’s annoying, though she knows how to keep her shit together better than most people.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, and the tension in your body seemed to fade away for a moment, only for it to return minutes later when Rafe turned into Kelce Statter’s driveway.

Your fingers made the fidget spinner come to a halt and you pressed your lips together.

The biggest challenge would await you inside the house.

Because the moment you stepped out of the car, two more very intimidating obstacles were waiting for you: Kelce Statter and Topper Thornton.

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kms masterlist | <- part three | part five ->

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bueckersleftbraid · 10 days ago

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pazzi as moms!!

An AU one shot in which Azzi and Paige both play for the Los Angeles Sparks and have a daughter.

wc: 2.9k (sry its short!!)

pls leave live reacts I will love you 4ever!!

p.s. I would possibly be down for writing a part 2 of like this scenario or the flashback?? lmk! <3

“But mommy I don’t wanna!” The little girl whined, her brown curls messy as she had just gotten out of bed. She looked just like her mother- except for those icy blue eyes which some how always persuaded Azzi to give her what she wanted.

“I know Abby baby, but you don’t really have a choice. If you want to see mama and mommy play this weekend, you have to go to school.” Azzi spoke, her voice soft but firm, as she looked down at her mini doppelgänger. The name Abby had come for a sweet girl that was a friend of Paige and Azzi when they played at UConn, someone who they both held close to their hearts. She was a light to all of the girls on the team- and ever since she had met her, even before she passed, Azzi was sure that Abby would be the name of her child in honor of the special girl. Paige had been totally on board with the idea, and didn’t hesitate to agree as Abby was also a memory she would never dare to let go.

“Hmft!” Abby plopped down on the floor, crossing her arms with I pout, “I want mama!” Abby’s voice was whiny, and Azzi knew the little girl wouldn’t give up until she got what she wanted. Plus, she could never say no to the eyes that looked almost identical to the ones she fell in love with years ago.

“Okay baby, how about we give mama a call while you get ready for school?” Azzi pulled out her phone from her back pocket and Abby’s face immediately lit up, her arms falling to her side to push herself off the ground. Azzi clicked on the pinned contact and the phone rang only once before a familiar voice echoed through the speaker.

“Hi, what’s up Az?” Paige spoke through the phone. She was clearly in the middle of something, walking swiftly through the city of Los Angeles, car horns and voices bustling around her.

“Abby wants to talk to you while she gets ready, she’s been a real pain this morning. If your busy we don’t-“

“No. No don’t even finish that sentence. I am never to busy for my girls.” Paige said, cutting her off. Azzi gave her a soft smile before handing the phone over to Abby. “Hi my sweet girl. Are you giving mommy a hard time this morning?” Paige cooed through the phone, a smile melting onto her face as soon as she saw her daughter on the screen.

“Nooo mommy wants me to go to school- mama tell her that I don’t have to go to school.” The little girl demanded, a pout still evident on her face.

“Well Abbs, school is important- but how about this? Mommy and I will take you out for ice cream tonight if your good allllll day?” Paige always had a way of annoying Azzi by giving into more than what Abby had asked for.

“Really Mama? Your gonna buy me ice cream??” The little girl sounded ecstatic, her eyes immediately lighting up and the words ice cream.

“Sure sweet girl, anything for you. Now listen to Mommy and get ready for school.” Paige spoke, her face looking up from the phone every few seconds to check her surroundings. Azzi set up the phone against the bathroom mirror before taking a brush and some hair spray to try and tame the toddlers messy curls.

“Mommy I want braids like mama today” Abby spoke as she watched Paige intently through the phone screen, noticing that the blonde had her signature hairstyle in. Paige gave the girl a small smile as she heard her request.

“Okay, and how about a pink bow to match your outfit?” Azzi suggested. Paige and Azzi had both agreed that their daughter would have the best style—no matter where she was going- because she was their daughter after all. Paige and Azzi both being known for their pregame fits, and sometimes accompanied by their daughter— who always wore a matching bow in her hair—had made it their goal to make their daughter an icon in the fashion world before the age of 12. And sometimes accompanied far, they had succeeded.

“Abbs guess who you get to see this weekend?” Paige said, the same smile that had been on her face since she answered the call only growing.

“Who mama?” The little girl said her voice a mix of curiosity and excitement.

“Well this weekend mama and mommy’s team are playing the Mystics. Do you remember who plays for the Mystics?” Paige said, as she looked down at the phone to see her daughter’s reaction. Abby thought for a second before her face lit up.

“Auntie Lili!!” Abby exclaimed, as Azzi tried to keep her head still so she wouldn’t pull on her hair. The girls chatted until Azzi finished Abby’s hair, and then Abby went to get dressed, leaving Azzi alone in the bathroom with Paige still on the phone.

“I like that color on you baby,” Paige spoke as she stared at Azzi through the phone. Azzi was wearing a brown set, which complimented her skintone perfectly. Really, she had worn it because she knew Paige liked it, but she would never admit that fact.

“Thanks P,” Azzi smile softly at her wife through the phone, “What time do you think you’ll be home? I wanna go for lunch” Azzi spoke as she pulled her hair up into a bun.

“Um.. probably 10? I should be back on the road in a few so maybe even before that.” Paige and Azzi had made the conscious decision to buy a house about an hour away from the city, in Calabasas, wanting a quieter life. Even though they had to go into LA often, they enjoyed having a homier neighborhood to raise their daughter in. Azzi was also very adamant that her daughter not be exposed to the craziness of the city before she was old enough to understand it. So, whenever they went to games, it was a quick in and out.

“Okay, any ideas for lunch? I’m sort of craving a salad.” Azzi had always been one to eat healthy. Paige on the other hand hated vegetables—or anything of the sort. She would much rather have a greasy fast food meal any day of the week.

“How about I take you to Erewhon? My treat.” Paige said, knowing that the store would have something for both of them—despite the high price tag. Paige had been begging Azzi to bring her recently anyway because she was dying to try their Mac and cheese.

“That’s fine with me, just text me when you’re almost home so I’ll be ready” Azzi said as she picked up the phone from the counter and walked into Abby’s room. “Abby baby say bye to mama” Azzi said, handing the phone off to the toddler.

“Bye mama! I love you!” Abby said as she waived to Paige through the screen.

“I love you too sweet girl, be good for mama okay?” Paige said as she looked at her daughter, now dressed in a pink tshirt and jean shorts, and of course wearing her cross necklace to match the ones that adorned both her parents necks daily.

“I will!” Abby said as she handed the phone back to Azzi before scurrying to grab her backpack.

“Safe driving, love you P” Azzi gave her wife a soft smile, taking a second to admire the way the California sun made the blondes blue eyes glow.

“Love you too Az” Paige before hanging up the phone.

——

The breeze of the mid July wind felt perfect against Azzi’s face as they drove on the road with the rolled down. It was the perfect day. The sun was shining and it wasn’t to hot, but just the right amount of warm. Paige’s hand rested against the exposed skin of her wife’s thigh, softly squeezing it every now at then, her thumb subconsciously rubbing against the soft skin. Azzi’s gaze landed outside the passenger window, gazing at the gorgeous view of the coast as they took their favorite drive. They rarely got to take this adventure anymore, since having Abby they’d become busy at every turn. But today was the perfect opportunity, considering Abby was at school and they both had a free schedule. Driving was one of their favorite activities early in their relationship and it always gave them both flashbacks to when Paige had first driven Azzi around Storrs.

Flashback - Summer 2020

“Come on Az, I promise it’s worth it.” Paige had been practically begging Azzi for the last hour to let her take her for a drive around Storrs. The town wasn’t exactly the most exciting place, but Paige knew every corner of it—every shortcut, every hidden gem, every quiet escape. And more than anything, she wanted Azzi to see it the way she did.

She wanted her to see UConn as home.

Azzi sat cross-legged on Paige’s dorm bed, absently scrolling through her phone. She could feel Paige’s gaze on her, those piercing blue eyes, the ones she was slowly falling deeper for by the second, filled with mischief and anticipation. The truth was, Azzi never could resist her.

“Fine. But only a short drive- 30 minutes tops.” Azzi huffed, finally caving.

Paige grinned, triumphant. “You’re gonna love it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but her lips curled slightly at the sight of Paige’s excitement. There was something about her energy, something contagious, something that made Azzi’s carefully built walls lower just a little every time they were together. Paige had a way of making the world feel smaller, like it was just the two of them, like nothing else mattered. And that terrified Azzi more than she was willing to admit.

Paige and Azzi were currently in what one would like the call ‘the in-between’. It was obvious to anyone that there were feelings, and sure, they had made out more than a few times… and maybe more… but, they weren’t dating. Nor had they addressed the butterflies that erupted in their stomachs when they caught each others eyes from across the room, or how the quiet and intimate nights spent together when Paige would visit Azzi in DC felt. They were just… them. Paige and Azzi. P and Az. They were just figuring it out.

Azzi slipped on one of Paige’s many UConn sweatshirts that she had collected through her past few months on campus.

“Hmm.. you look good in husky blue Az,” Paige said, a small smirk growing across her face as she saw Azzi in her sweatshirt, her eyes drifting up and down her figure.

“You think?” Azzi said, not even noticing the smirk on Paige’s face as she looked at herself in the mirror. The choice had always been sort of obvious to Azzi. I mean, playing with 3 of her best friends, Amari, Caroline, and Paige, plus it all being at the Basketball Capital of the World? How could she say no? But she had also been swayed by Maryland—it being close to her family— as well as UCLA, considering it had always been a dream of hers to live in Los Angeles. But despite not telling anyone, her mind was pretty set on UConn. Mostly because of a certain blonde, but she would never admit that.

“Come on Az, let’s go” Paige said, her voice soft as she took Azzi’s hand in hers, intertwining their fingers and pulling her out of her thoughts. Paige always had a way of making the brunette feel safe with the simplest of gestures. And that? That was dangerous.

——

“Paige we’ve been off campus for 20 minutes, where are we going?” Azzi spoke, her voiced tinged with a hit of annoyance, though they both knew she didn’t mind these quiet moments alone with the blonde.

“Almost there, promise.” Paige squeezed her hand softly as her thumb traced over her knuckles.

Eventually, Paige pulled off the main road onto a barely visible dirt path. The car bumped along the uneven ground until they reached what looked like a small, secluded parking area. There wasn’t much to see- just tall grass swaying in the breeze, a hint of water glistening beyond the trees.

Azzi furrowed her brows. “Are you planning to murder me in the woods? Because if so, I’d like to know beforehand.”

Paige laughed, shaking her head as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “Just get out of the car, Az.”

She made her way over to the passenger door, continuing the tradition of opening Azzi’s door for her whenever she gave her the chance. She reached out a hand to help her step down from the car and Azzi accepted it, not letting go when she reached the ground. Paige led her down towards the darkness, but then suddenly a dock was illuminated in the distance by a few stands of hanging lights.

“What… what is this?” Azzi’s voice was soft as she looked around. She had never seen or heard of this dock, which was as odd considering it seemed like a pretty nice spot.

“It’s nothing really, Geno’s family owns the lot, but their away right now. He said the team can come here whenever so… I brought you with me.” Paige spoke as she led Azzi down the dock towards the patio furniture that sat at the end.

As they reached the dock Paige sat down, pulling Azzi into her, but Azzi was hesitant.

“Come on Az. No one’s around, just let me hold you,” Paige’s eyes were pleading, she needed this. She needed Azzi. Her Azzi.

The brunette gave in, leaning into Paige’s body- well more like melting into it. She had craved her touch, the closeness that they had lacked since she had last spent a night with Paige.

“I’ve missed you so much Az, more than you’ll ever know” Paige muttered into the cool summer air. Azzi instinctively moved closer, her arms finding their way around Paige’s waist from the side as she inhaled the familiar sent of the blonde. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Paige spoke again, noticing how quite Azzi was. “What’s on your mind pretty girl?”

Azzi exhaled softly before responding, melting impossibly further into Paige’s touch.

“I think I’m gonna commit.” Azzi spoke. Her voice was quick, like she’d been dying to get these words off her chest for weeks.

“Wait Az- seriously?” Paige sat up, meeting her eyes.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I haven’t told anyone yet. You’re the first person I’ve said it out loud to, so you can’t tell anyone yet, okay?”

For a moment, Paige didn’t say anything. Then, suddenly, she was moving- wrapping Azzi in a tight embrace, burying her face in the crook of her neck.

“Oh my god, Az,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Azzi felt a dampness against her skin and realized with a jolt that Paige was crying.

She pulled back, cupping Paige’s face in her hands. “Hey... are you crying?”

Paige let out a watery laugh. “Shut up.”

Azzi smiled, her thumb brushing away a stray tear from Paige’s cheek. “I didn’t think you’d be this emotional about it.”

Paige sniffled, but her grin was unstoppable. “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for you to say that since the moment I met you.”

Azzi’s heart flipped in her chest.

She didn’t respond—she didn’t need to. Instead, she leaned in, closing the distance between them in a soft, lingering kiss.

It tasted like promises. Like the start of something real.

And for the first time, Azzi wasn’t scared.

——

Present - June 2031

The engine hummed softly as Paige pulled into the daycare parking lot, easing the car into a shaded spot near the entrance. Azzi sat comfortably in the passenger seat, her head tilted back slightly against the headrest, eyes half-lidded from the warmth of the afternoon sun. The remnants of their afternoon drive still lingered—the salty ocean breeze in their hair, the faint scent of sunscreen on their skin, and the shared laughter that had filled the car as they cruised down the Southern California coast.

It had been a perfect day.

Lunch had been as predictable as ever—Azzi with her fresh Cobb salad, something light yet filling, and Paige with her usual combination of comfort foods. Mac and cheese, strawberries, and grilled chicken. She had barely glanced at the vibrant array of fresh vegetables Erewhon offered, much to Azzi’s amusement.

“I don’t understand how you survive without eating real greens,” Azzi had teased, twirling a forkful of her salad.

Paige had only grinned, popping a strawberry into her mouth. “These count.”

Now, parked in the lot, the golden California sun cast a soft glow across Azzi’s skin, making it nearly impossible for Paige to look away.

The way the sunlight kissed her tan complexion, the way the warmth made her eyes just a shade lighter, like pools of honey—it was almost unfair. Paige had seen Azzi in every possible setting, in every lighting, in every moment of exhaustion, excitement, and everything in between. But somehow, she never got used to how effortlessly stunning she was.

She let out a small breath, shaking her head slightly before speaking.

“You look so beautiful, Az,” Paige murmured, her voice dipping into something softer, something more raw. Her eyes traced every inch of the girl beside her, like she was committing the sight to memory.

Azzi turned, her gaze meeting Paige’s, amusement flickering in her brown eyes at the sudden intensity. But it only lasted a second before something more tender settled in her expression.

“Thank you, baby,” she hummed, reaching out to brush a strand of blonde hair behind Paige’s ear.

Paige swallowed, her heart skipping at the simple touch.

God, she was in so deep.

Azzi’s thumb traced lightly over Paige’s cheekbone, her touch featherlight, but the effect was immediate. Paige felt her breath hitch slightly, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

“You’re staring,” Azzi whispered, tilting her head slightly, her lips curling at the edges.

Paige smirked, but she didn’t look away.

“Can you blame me?”

Azzi laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re perfect.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her gaze betrayed her. Paige could tell she liked hearing it, even if she pretended otherwise.

For a moment, they just sat there, the hum of the world outside the car fading into the background. It was these moments Paige cherished the most—the quiet in-between, where nothing needed to be said, where everything they felt was just understood.

A soft buzz interrupted the stillness, Azzi’s phone vibrating against the center console. She glanced at the screen and sighed, stretching slightly before unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Time to pick up the little monster,”

Paige groaned playfully. “I was really enjoying just staring at you.”

Azzi laughed, leaning over to press a soft kiss to the blonde’s cheek. “You’ll survive.”

Paige sighed dramatically, but a smile tugged at her lips as she watched Azzi step out of the car, the sunlight catching in her curls.

Yeah, she was definitely in too deep.

____

“Mommy! Mama!” Abby’s excited voice rang through the warm afternoon air as she sprinted across the small daycare yard, her tiny backpack bouncing with each hurried step. Her curls, wild from a day of play, framed her beaming face as she launched herself toward the two women standing at the bottom of the steps.

“Hi sweet girl” Paige cooed as she took her daughter’s backpack and slung it over her shoulder.

“Ready for ice cream Abbs?” Azzi hummed, lifting up her daughter and carrying her on her hip.

“Yes Mommy! Can we go to the beach ice cream shop? So I can see the seals in the water?” Abby said excitedly. She had always loved the ice cream shop that sat across the street from the coast, Ted’s. Coincidentally sharing a name with UConns on campus bar, which Paige and Azzi frequented during their years in college.

As Azzi held Abby close, the little girl wrapped her arms around her neck, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder. Paige reached over, smoothing a few stray curls from Abby’s forehead as they made their way back to the car.

The afternoon sun had started to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the daycare lot. The warmth of California’s breeze wrapped around them, carrying the distant scent of saltwater and summer. It was one of those moments Paige wished she could freeze in time—the three of them together, no rush, no stress, just this.

After buckling Abby into her car seat, Paige slid into the passenger seat while Azzi took the wheel.

“Alright, Ted’s it is,” Azzi said, turning on the car.

“Yay!” Abby cheered from the back.

Paige turned her head for just a second to catch the girls eye, before turning back to the road. “What flavor are you getting, Abbs?”

“Umm…” Abby scrunched her nose, deep in thought. “The chocolate one with the rainbow sprinkles. And the cookie on top!”

Paige gasped playfully. “No way! That’s the best one.”

Abby giggled, kicking her little feet excitedly. “Mommy what are you gonna get?”

Paige glanced at Azzi, smirking. “Let me guess… vanilla?”

Azzi scoffed, crossing her arms. “Excuse me, I have taste.”

“Do you?” Paige teased. “Because all through college, you only ever got plain vanilla or maybe chocolate if you were feeling wild.”

Abby burst into laughter at that, and Azzi rolled her eyes. “Okay, Mommy, what are you getting then?”

Paige shrugged, smirking. “Mint chocolate chip, obviously.”

Azzi groaned, making a dramatic gagging noise. “You would. That is the worst flavor ever.”

Paige gasped, feigning offense. “Oh, we’re breaking up.”

“Too late, you’re stuck with me forever,” Azzi shot back with a mischievous smile as she waived her left hand in the air, flaunting her wedding ring.

Paige shook her head, laughing, as she reached for Azzi’s hand, squeezing it as she drove. It was the simplest of gestures, but it made Azzi’s heart flip, the same way it had when they were just kids navigating their feelings all those years ago.

As they pulled up to Ted’s, the familiar hum of the ocean filled the air, waves crashing in the distance. Abby practically bounced in her seat, eager to get her ice cream and see the seals.

Paige turned to Azzi, watching as she smiled at their daughter, her eyes filled with nothing but love.

This- these little moments, these small but infinite pieces of happiness- this was everything.

And Paige wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics #pazzi crumbs #uconnwbb

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deepfivetraveller · 10 months ago

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King Baldwin x Time!Traveler!reader

chapter 1

Chapter 2 here

Okay I’m a little new to writing romance so please take it easy on me. Btw I’ll try to keep y/n as neutral as possible but since this is set in the ancient era and religion is very important, y/n shall be hinted as being Hindu since that’s the only one that seems neutral in this situation.

“Alright that's all for the lesson. And since its complete I expect all of you to be thorough with ‘Life of King Baldwin iv’ during this weekend since there will be a test on this very topic next wednesday. Have a great weekend by the way.” The professor stands up and closes his laptop and all the other students start packing up.

“He had a pretty hard life didn’t he?” One of your friends chimes in. You look at her unsurprised. “You mean king Baldwins?”

“Duh! Poor man suffered an incurable disease almost his entire life! Imagine having skin infested in bacteria, euggh!” She recoils in disgust. “Imagine the cure to that disease being bacteria itself! Pretty sure Leprosy can be cured using multi antibiotic therapy.” Another friend joins in the conversation. You finished packing up your bag so you get up. “But no matter what, you gotta respect him. He never used his illness as an excuse to be a bad king.”

“That’s true….” Your first friend agrees. “He’s tough. When I catch a normal cold I give up all of my responsibilities since I’m sick. Wonder how hard it must have been for him.” All of you exit the classroom. A few minutes go by and topics have changed. A fun conversation lasted for a while before it was time to go, so you three parted ways.

As you entered your home your first thought was to take a cold shower after a long, hot and sweaty day. While eagerly hopping into the shower you get reminded of the conversation you had with your friends a while ago. What did king Baldwin even look like? There were no images in your textbook. Curiosity got the best of you, making you draw back the shower curtains to leave. You wrapped a towel and went towards the table where you kept your mobile, typed a quick ‘King Baldwin the 4th images’ and hit enter. Two images popped up. One being an actual painting from the 12th century while the other being an image reconstructed by scientists which looked…realistic to say the least.

His face in the second photo was majestic. His mouth and nose were almost non-existent, having only two triangular shaped holes instead of a nose. His skin was dry, withered and stretched while having the hue of a dry leaf during autumn. Even though he was severely disfigured his eyes were pure and bright, having a child like innocence towards them. King Baldwin was…Quite handsome.

Okay that’s enough now snap out of it! It’s probably just some AI prompt message image anyway. If anyone found out you found him handsome they’d call you crazy. Plus now is not the time to fangirl over a dead king, now's the time to study. In an attempt to distract yourself you pick up your books to do work. Hours painfully go by as you study but finally, finally it was bedtime. You could care less about eating dinner or even taking a shower, you plop yourself onto your bed and wrap the soft blanket around your body. Thoughts about King Baldwin strike your mind again. Seriously, what's wrong with you?! Why is this man plaguing your thoughts all day?

A sigh escaped your mouth from irritation. If only it was possible to console him for his losses or better yet, cure him entirely. The world would have been a better place if he had the lifespan of a normal man.

But there is no point thinking about this, time to go to bed now. As you try to go to sleep your body keeps doing the fake fall thing, annoying you to the core. And finally when your bodys heartbeat was steady and your breathing was quiet, your body did that fake fall thing again but this time it was actually a real fall.

Eyes widen as you try to grab onto the air to prevent your fall but of course, you fail. Adrenaline rushes through your veins for that split second before you finally make an impact on the cobblestone path?

Owch! That fall really hurt, especially at the back of your shoulders! You hope it’s not bruised there. But after that reality check, you look around only to find yourself in some village?

You can see a few small huts and buildings beyond the grassy field. Where are you? How are you here? Why are you here? Too confused and dazed from the fall, you try to look around for people for help. That is until a holographic screen with text pops up.

Congratulations Ms. Y/n. Your wish to cure King Baldwin has been approved by the ₦ł₥฿Ʉ₴฿₳Ʉ₦Ʉ₴. You are now at Jerusalem, Year: 1181.

“What?”

Yes it’s true Ms.Y/n, you really are in the 12th century.

Your blood is now boiling in anger. “Just because….Someone wishes pity over a dead king DOES NOT ACTUALLY MEAN THEY WANT TO CURE HIM!” You try to grab onto the screen to shake it vigorously but your hands go right thru.

Now now, let’s calm down and try to get over with this together I’m sure we’ll find a solution.

“Calm down…CALM DOWN?!?!?!? I’m in the middle of nowhere in Jerusalem during the 12th century and you want me to CALM DOWN???? I don’t even know French and not to mention I’M NOT CHRISTIAN!” You were screaming with your hand in the air. Pretty sure you woke someone up.

Y-Yes but that’s why I’m here. Don’t worry about communication, the language module for french had been uploaded into your brain while you fell here.

The screen flickers a little, maybe due to fear.

Uploaded knowledge? “But I’m a woman from the 21st century! I can’t live here! I’m wayy to accustomed to the privileges of my time!”

That’s one of my perks miss! By using currency of this time you may purchase products of your time thru me! The screen changes to an online store. For now you have access to basic necessities like food and clothes. As you complete missions you shall unlock other parts of the online market! The screens display brightness increases due to enthusiasm, convinced it has impressed you.

You however look at it in exasperated shock. “How is this even possible?” You say with dread in your voice. “Who sent me here?” You ask, no, demand.

Like I said You’ve been sent here by ₦ł₥฿Ʉ₴฿₳Ʉ₦Ʉ₴. I’m pretty sure you can’t read that since mortals don’t have the capacity to….

Mortals? Is this the play of some higher being? God even? Too many questions float through your head, making you visibly tired. You can feel the bottom of the skin beneath your eyes folding, an indicator you’re developing dark circles.

Ah. It looks like you’re tired. It’s night anyway. You should sleep.

“But where do I-”

“Excuse me madam.” You turn around to see a man standing behind you. “I’ve noticed you’ve been talking to yourself.”

So he can’t see the screen. From his ragged outfit he seems to be a commoner. He also genuinely seems worried so you guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask for help.

“Yes, sorry for that.” You say embarrassingly while you get up. “You see I’m from the family of wandering traders, here to sell spices from my land. I was talking to myself since I was quite irritated at how I didn’t have an inn for the night.” The explanation seems responsible enough I guess.

“But I don’t see any goods with you… And how did a young lady such as yourself travel alone? Where is your husband?”

Crap. He’s doubting you. You need to give him a reasonable explanation fast or he’ll call you a witch or something.

“Oh no sir you’re mistaken! My father is the one who has the spices, it’s his business after all. We had to split ways during travel due to inconveniences, I’m merely here to help him!” You put on your best smile to convince him.

“O-Oh I’m sorry madame! H-Here let me lead you, I know an Inn nearby.” Good. Looks like he believes you. But now it’s your turn.

“I’m sorry sir but how can I trust you?” You step back a little. “What if you take advantage of me? How shall I testify my innocence? The locals would definitely believe you over me.”

“No no please don’t! I’m a married man. My wife’s right there.” he points at the lady standing just outside the house, looking worried. You look at her and she nods her head in reassurance. “You seem like a noble from your land madame judging from your colorful dress, why don’t the both of us show you where the inn is?”

Hmm….Guess colorful clothing is rare here. And he really does seem like he wants to help.

“Very well then. Both of you show me they way.” The man eagerly tells his wife the incident and both of them show you around. The screen follows you, showing you a winking emoticon.

Congrats Ms. Y/n! You have officially begun your first mission!

#king baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #baldwin x reader #baldwin of jerusalem #kingdom of heaven 2005 #baldwin iv x reader #baldwin iv x oc #king baldwin x you #king baldwin x reader #the leaper King #koh fandom #edward norton

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envy-of-the-apple · 2 months ago

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I've been reading all your jjk works and notice most of them having older mc. You wrote gojo with an older woman a lot, how about doing geto with middle age jujutsu teacher

Mc is not strong and barely considered a jujutsu sorcerer with her ct that basically numbs her or others senses like a potent anesthetic, its not really useful in a fight but the best thing for geto. With her ct she can numb his taste buds completely and he never has to taste the disgusting curse ball ever again. And plus mc is actually a really nice and caring teacher. The kind of teacher that uses different study methods to suit different students. The kind of teacher that immediately pick up when students are feeling down. But when geto expresses how much he is fond of her not just as her student she takes it as puppy love that he will soon get over it when he gets older and she only saw him as her student. She said something like "maybe when you graduate we can have this talk again" and geto took it to heart only for his beloved teacher getting purpose from other people(non-sorcer that you happened to help one time). Oh... How sad he is... He thought you would wait for him. And you would finally become part of his family with nanako and mimiko after all you help him raise both of them why are you leaving for some Monkey

I like this idea! But what about making the Mc a nurse instead???

(TW: Blood, implied murder, yandere)

You aren’t even a trained jujutsu sorcerer. You were scouted pretty late, far past high school. Because of that, you don’t have much potential, not that you were upset or anything. You’re still a high school nurse, but instead of treating students with the occasional flu, you treat teenagers who fight demons.

It’s pretty haunting to see, especially as an outsider of jujutsu. But you can’t do anything. You might be semi-important to the school, but you’re still just another rung on the ladder. So you keep your head down, as you always do.

It’s only natural you develop favorites. It’s a second year. Shoko Ieiri. She’s set to be your predecessor, having a much more powerful CT than you do. You don’t mind being in her shadow. The short time you spent in the jujutsu world was hard enough. At least now you know you wont be leaving behind a hole.

Geto is close behind. He’s a quiet boy, well-mannered, well-spoken. Far better than his white haired brat of a companion. It isn’t often he comes for injuries, but when accidents do happen, you’re sure to lecture him while tending to his injuries.

Maybe one day you get curious enough to ask what curses taste like. Maybe that day, he finally decides to be honest.

On tinier areas, like the tongue, your CT can last for hours. You try it out just once when he’s called to dispatch a first grade. He comes back that day with eyes brighter than anything you’ve ever seen.

It continues like that. When he’s called for an exorcism, he finds you. It’s like a goodbye ritual. You and him sit on the exam table, his mouth open wide as you diligently apply your curse technique, careful not to miss a single corner. He often tells you that you saved his life. You didn’t know he meant that so sincerely.

He confesses to you a year after Riko’s death.

Hes like a kid. He is a kid, staring down at you with hopeful eyes, not even a day over 18. You know what you should do. Rip the band-aide off, nice and clean. He deserves that.

But...you just cant break his heart like that, so you lie.

You tell him when he's older. You tell him after graduation. You tell him to wait. He readily does. You hope in a couple years hed be too embarrassed to ask you again. His adult brain would kick in and nag at him. His friends might too. Maybe when he comes back as a fully-fledged sorcerer, you two could laugh about this.

Your last straw is Haibara.

You quit the school. you walk away from jujutsu sorcery. It's hard, because its been your life for years, but leaving hurts less than staying.

You don't tell geto. You just leave. Abandon him.

You go back to your old job. A normal high school, treating normal high school students. Years pass like that. You move on with your normal life.

And then you meet a normal man. Quiet, well-mannered, the ever slightest gray in his hair. He's perfect. When he gives you the ring, it was the happiest you'd ever been.

Geto finds you two years after your marriage.

It's almost surreal meeting him again, seeing him in your quiet apartment. There's so much blood. His fingers are dripping in it.

He smiles. "So, had time to think it over?"

You were half right. One day, Geto did come back as a full-fledged sorcerer.

But neither of you laughed about it.

#asks #yandere #yandere jjk #dark jjk #dark content #x reader #yandere x reader #dark geto suguru x reader #dark geto suguru #yandere geto suguru x reader #yandere geto suguru #tw: blood

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ooooo-mcyt · 27 days ago

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what is your opinion on people who are always like "omg it's us, but it's desertduo" as in they're happy thing think their relationship is like desertrduo

cause when I see that, I laugh, because desertduo in my eyes is doomed to fail. one of the single most important things in a relationship is communication

which is the thing they do not have, and are worst at.

communication.

i think this is a thing I have noticed in shinyduo as well. they both are bad at communicating.

To me I think the biggest problem between Scar and Grian will always be their differing ways of showing affection and their struggles to understand/communicate with each other about this difference.

Grian struggles with verbally showing he cares, so he'll often express his love through actions. Grian will make other people his responsibility and will work and work and work tirelessly for those people. The problem with this, though, is twofold.

The first problem is that Grian can come across as overbearing, giving people the impression he's nagging or undervaluing them because he doesn't verbalize his concern or affection. Grian can take care of Scar all day, but when all Scar hears are complaints, he'll feel like Grian doesn't care. Grian struggles with verbally affirming his care for other people, but sometimes it's needed, and it damages his relationships that he often can't do that.

The second problem is that Grian builds underlying resentment for the fact that people rarely seem to appreciate how much he does for them. He isn't completely wrong to feel this way, because, frankly, I do wish people would pay more attention to his caretaking behavior. But Grian actively sabotages himself as well by never communicating that he feels unappreciated in a productive way.

Plus, because of his self imposed caretaker role, Grian will often make unilateral decisions for a team without minding his partners input, which leads to a further lack of trust from both sides of the relationship.

Scar, on the other hand, usually expresses his affection and care upfront. He's friendly, approachable, he won't hesitate to tell people he loves them, or say what someone means to him. Scar is good at making people feel good and affirming his affection for them.

That being said, his affection can come across as "shallow" at times. Scar is often very bad at picking up on, let alone fulfilling, the needs of his partner. While Grian absolutely needs to work on communicating what he wants from Scar, that doesn't take away from the fact that Scar very much should be putting an effort into making sure Grian feels like the labor in their relationship is equal when they team, because generally it's not.

Scar is a very verbal person, he's upfront with his own feelings most of the time, so he also expects to be told when his partner needs something, not just emotionally, but also with tasks that need to get done). Which is understandable, but frankly, genuinely shouldn't be Grian's responsibility half as often as it is.

Scar isn't off the hook for selfish decision making either, because he will often struggle to see other people's viewpoints or understand that not everyone feels the same way he does about certain things, which can lead to him talking over or ignoring his partners wishes when he thinks he knows what's best for them.

Desert Duo have a lot of problems with how they express affection and communicate their needs.

However. Do I think they're inherently doomed? No.

Firstly, I think it largely depends on the setting. The gaps in their understanding of each other or how to be good partners to one another are widened by the life or death high stakes fast pace of the Life Series, but are bridged much more easily within the slow comfy safety of Hermitcraft. It's easy to look at their worst moments and say, there, that's why they can't work- but people don't have to be defined by their worst moments, and everyone's flaws look so much bigger when held under the lens of a death game. I think it's just as important to look at how Scar and Grian are when they're in a healthy setting as it is to look at them when they're in the most high stakes setting you can put two people into.

Plus, it's worth noting that a positive peaceful place like Hermitcraft isn't the only place they can work.

Sure, Scar and Grian absolutely had issues in Third Life, but I think it means something that they both made it to the end. That they got their fair fight. That they did it in their home. Giggling. Apologizing. It wasn't perfect, but it was theirs- and their "doom" didn't come from themselves, it came from an outside force. An outside force made them destroy themselves, and they did it in the kindest way they could, loving each other all the way down.

That isn't to minimize their issues, because they both have issues. They both hurt each other, and sometimes neither of them know how to stitch it back together. But they try, right? Sometimes their relationship is like stitching up a quilt. And it comes out kinda uneven and slightly off-color, but it's still nice enough to look at, and warm enough to keep them cozy at night, and they both like it so so much.

Scar and Grian get each other, they counteract each others worst insecurities and fears, they gravitate toward each other, they make each other laugh, they just plain like each other. That may not sound like much sometimes, but it's often enough for them, and I think that's important. I think their relationship is good for them more often than it's bad for them. Even if they don't always know how to reach each other.

#trafficblr #traffic smp #grian #goodtimeswithscar #desert duo #scarian #trafficshipping #it's a traffic jam #sorry for the color coding #i feel like this is. long.#so i wanted a way to break up the paragraphs a tiny bit.

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howlingmod · 3 months ago

Text

under the mistletoe

summary - every phighter (seperately) x reader, as it sounds

misc - HAPPY HOLIDAYS ..... smiles

sword

"What?"

-doesn't plan it ; i don't think he knows it's a thing. no reasoning i just don't think he would be aware. he's not totally in the dark about all the little romanticisms of the holidays but this one's a little lost on hi.

-he doesn't really get it is all ......... it's cute sure, but he kisses you all the time, what's so special about this?

-he'll still get a little shy though, he's kissing you! in front of people! and you're fine with that! what! he's confident enough in your relationship, but he's still a little awestruck everytime you guys do something so intimate in public

-he likes knowing you're fine with people knowing you're together about as much as he likes to show you how much he loves you.

skate

"C'mon baby! It's the rules!"

-doesn't actively try to set it up too much. he's moreso just nudging you in the right riection every now and then and staring at it for most of the night. it's very obvious to everyone else.

-he just thinks its a staple! the mistletoe kiss is right up there with the new years kiss, it's one of the most romantic gestures out there (in his book)!

-honestly very sweet about it, will probably put his arms around our waist or grab and hold your hands to pull you closer.

-also he just likes showing you off and this is the easiest way of doing that other than all the verbal bragging he's doing that night. whoops.

katana

"..."

-not going to set it up or care much. it's a cute tradition, but nothing super important to him. plus, it's really gonna depend on your surroundings. if you're around other people, he'll keep it in mind for when you're alone (consider it a delayed one). if it's just you two, then he's a lot more likely to oblige.

-it's really up to you. if you seem nervous or uninterested, he's not going to push it at all. he'd much rather go at your pace and make sure you're ready and comfortable than pry for a silly tradition.

-he's a very sentimental kisser, so expect to be there for a few seconds. he likes taking his time so he can put as much of his heart into it as he can.

-while the tradition itself isn't anything to him, the gesture is very important to him. he's got some pretty gnarly scars, so knowing you're still willing to do something so intimate when you can see and feel them makes him happier than he knows how to say.

banhammer

"Funny seeing you here!"

-doesn't plan it really. he thinks about it, he thinks it'd be cute, but he doesn't really push you over there. he might whine about it a little afterwards if he doesn't end up doing it (it's so tropey, he has to man), but that's about it

-he takes it a liiitle seriously. he's all for traditions like this man you don't get it, he just thinks they've got such a charm to them. they're so simple and yet have so much payoff ...

-he's dropping a shitty one-liner sorry. he thinks its fun to flirt with you like you two aren't dating. he's gotta prove to you he's a good boyfriend, alright?

-sweet kisser though. if you're especially shorter thn him, he might lift you up into his arms a bit to make it easier on the both of you. if not, you're still getting pulled right up to him. it's cold outtt .... ::]

rocket

"Well, you know what they say!"

-nudges you in the right direction. he wants at least one, it's a classic! he's pretty similar to skate in this regard.

-it's a big show of affection in his eyes just because it encompasses so many feelings for him- he gets to show you off, he gets to kiss you, AND he gets to do something stupidly cheesy, what more could he want?

-he's a little messy with it- more so because he's excited. he ends up going in a little too fast and maybe bumping eachother if you're not careful.

-he'll have an arm around your waist for the rest of the night. he's pretty proud of himself.

slingshot

"What? Oh- OH!"

-doesn't plan it at all. in all honesty, it probably happens at the cafe rather than a party. it just got thrown in with all the other holiday decorations, so he hung it up without really thinking about it.

-if it happens during the workday, he's a little iffy on it, he'd like to mantain as much professionalism as he can ... buuut he might still give you a little peck before rushing off to work on the orders. if you're alone, then he's more than happy to linger a little longer.

-the type to hold the side of your face or your shoulder while kissing. he likes the stability of it and just thinks it's cute ...

scythe

"Well well- lookey here."

-she planned this. she's the reason the mistletoe is there. this was not fate this was a grand plot and you don't even know the start of it.

-oh come on- of course scythe of all people would be all over this! it's an easy way to show off your relationship (she's possessive, sue her) and to get a free kiss. there's no way she's gonna pass up an opportunity like this.

-she makes a big show of it, sorry. she loves to get under your skin and fluster you, so she's gonna spend her time getting closer and teasing you about you looking a little embarassed.

-the kiss itself is surprisingly chaste and sweet, she likes showing you off but she's got class, alright?

shuriken

"Well, I'm waaaiting ..."

-plans it. he spends a good part of the night herding you over there at least once but most likely twice. sue him for wanting to kiss his partner...

-he's not super used to the tradition, so it's still got that allure of something new to him. he's got a hyped up view of it, so he's pretty excited and it shows in how he's grinning like an idiot the moment he gets the chance.

-this isn't to say its gonna wear off to him though- it'll get normalized, sure, but he still looks forward to it every time. it's romantic! it's cute! let him live!

-annoyingly sneaky about it too- please don't act too surprised, you're only going to feed his ego

hyperlaser

"Negative."

-it's a hard no in public. no explanation needed he's not doing it. If you really wanna you can kiss his helmet, and honestly ......... he would think it's cute. it's a stupid tradition but you pull it off.

-if you do, he'll return the favor later (once you have less eyes on you) by leaning his head against yours. it's not a huge deal but it's a little way of him sort-of doing it back .. in spirit at least.

-in private ... ehhhh. he's still iffy on it. if you ask really nicely he might lift his helmet up just enough, but that's about it. it's just not super comfortable for him.

-not a pda guy but he'll hold your hand and keep you at his side. it's nothing special toan on looker but to him it's a show of love and care- if he didn't love you, he wouldn't bother holding you so close to him. he values his space and privacy, so know that him including you in it is a way of him showing your importance to him.

medkit

"Really?"

-doesn't plan it ; he thinks its silly. around people, it's gonna be a no, he's not super into PDA. if it's just the two of you ... you could convince him.

-he still thinks it's stupid, but he's willing to do stupid things if it means you're happy. a very chaste kisser but that doesn't take any of the sentiment out of it, he really does mean every little gesture of affection.

-he's going to hold your hand most likely, it's a little comfort to him- he's prone to squeezing your hand in a nonverbal 'i love you.'

-he'll be thinking about it everytime he sees mistletoe again for the next few days. it's driving him a little crazy he's coming home and staring at your lips a little bit while you guys tell eachother about your day. expect a few more kisses than normal

boombox

"(You wanna?)"

-the truest of neutrals. he thinks it's cute and he doesn't mind pda, but it's not something he sees as super important. he's very confident in your relationship and he's pretty affectionate already, so it's your call really

-it'll probably be just a quick peck, but that's only because he's probably kissed you a few times already and has haf an arm around you the whole night anyway

-really, it's just not necessary. you're already pissing everyone off with how sweet the two of you are you don't need the extra gesture.

subspace

"Ugh- Don't be ridiculous!"

-he's only going to realize if someone else walks him through it. he's not super familiar with all the traditions that go with the season, so a lot of them come off as pretty strange to him.

-if it's around other people, it's not happening, sorry. at most, he'll take you kissing the mask, but even then he might grumble a bit (he likes showing off, being vulnerable and recieving affection is a little different). nothing personal, he's just not taking it off around others.

-if it's just you two though ... then he can be swayed. he'll still think it's stupid and you're being strange but he signed up for that. he'll do it if only to see what all the fuss is about.

-'that's it?' and then he's doing it again the next time you ask. he is not immune.

vine staff

"Oh! Well, only if you'd like to..."

-she will not notice unless someone points it out to her. she's spent a lot of holiday seasons with shuriken and slingshot, so she just forgot this was apart of the holiday honestly. she's a lot more accustomed to the chaos than the sweeter little things (help her).

-while everyone would ask first, she's the most 'whatever' about it. It's a cute thing, don't get her wrong! she just doesn't feel the need to perform, for lack of a better term. she loves you and knows you love her, she doesn't really feel the need to show that off too much.

-if it was a smaller gathering, she'd be a little more into it, but if it's a bigger party she's happy to just talk to you about anything and everything under the mistletoe instead.

-very short and chaste but sweet all the same. she might grab and hold onto one of your hands, she usually won't let go afterwords either. smile

coil

"Aww- Did you plan this?"

-he doesn't set it up at first. the first time, he kinda forgot it was a thing- he's been busy! but once he realizes he's got a free 'kiss s/o' AND 'show s/o off' card, it's over. he's so smooth with it it's annoying. whether he meets you there so you have to stop below it or he casually leads you over while you're both talking, it might as well say gullible on the ceiling.

-like skate, he likes pulling you real close. he's a fan of physical affection, so you bet he's taking the chance to throw his arms around you. even afterwards, he'll keep an arm slung around you.

-he can't go to big parties, so he's usually just around skates gang, but he'll still take the opportunity to brag. he knows you're a catch, he knows you're sweet on him, how could he not be a little smug?

-if you pull a fast one on him and pull HIM under the mistletoe though, you can bet he's impressed. he'll be teasing you about it for a bit, but only because he thinks it's adorable.

#phighting x reader #sword x reader #skateboard x reader #katana x reader #banhammer x reader #rocket x reader #hyperlaser x reader #scythe x reader #shuriken x reader #slingshot x reader #medkit x reader #vine staff x reader #boombox x reader #coil x reader #subspace x reader #roblox x reader

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pbaz7 · 3 months ago

Text

AGAINST THE TIDE — PART TWO

paige x azzi

warnings: language

word count: 4.8k

A/N: Here’s the next chapter!! It’s another chap of me setting the scene so bear with me. The next chapters when Azzi officially gets on campus will have more interaction between them. I’m also not sure how I feel about the 1st person POV so I might stop after this who knows. Anywho let me know what you think and leave comments and live reactions if you can!! Happy New Year everyone 🥳

—————————————————————————

July 2019 - Paige POV

I was deep into my basketball workout, the sound of the ball echoing through the gym as I went through the drills with precision. My trainer standing by the sideline, coaching me through each movement — footwork, ball-handling, shot mechanics. I was lost in the rhythm of it all, my mind focused solely on the next move, the next shot, just as I did every offseason.

But then, something on the TV caught my attention.

The US 3x3 tournament was on — I hadn't been paying too much attention to it, but I always found time for basketball, no matter who was playing. It was in my blood. I just loved the game at all levels.

My focus slipped for a second as I looked over at the screen, noticing the score was a little close. Then I saw Azzi.

I froze, the ball bouncing softly at my side as I watched everything unfold. One minute, she was pushing through the defense, looking like she was about to make a play, and the next, she was on the floor. Her knee buckled awkwardly, and I saw her fall, immediately clutching it. The pain was clear as day on her face.

"Oh fuck," I muttered under my breath, the word escaping before I could stop it. My trainer immediately moving toward the TV to turn the volume up.

The announcers' voices filled the gym, sharp with concern. "All of a sudden there’s concern for the health of one of the best high schoolers in the country. We can only hope Azzi Fudd is able to walk out of here on her own which will be a good sign for all the viewers who I’m sure are holding their breath as this all unfolds." One said, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily in his tone.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen as Azzi stayed down, her face twisted in pain, tears welling in her eyes as the camera zoomed in on her. I hate when they do that shit.

I didn’t particularly like Azzi. She was too passive for my liking, not nearly as fiery or intense as I thought a player should be. Especially someone of her caliber. Plus she fouled the hell out of me for no reason that one time. But seeing her in that kind of pain? That wasn’t something I could enjoy. Despite all the rivalry, despite everything, I hated seeing anyone get hurt.

For all our back-and-forth, the trash talk, the competitiveness that had grown between us, I never wanted to see her hurt. She had just had an incredible season, her name up there with the best in the country — and now, it could all come crashing down in a second. This injury could change everything for her, just like that.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when my trainer asked, “You think she’s going to be ight?”

I didn’t answer right away. I just stood there, watching as they helped Azzi off the court, her face still contorted in pain as she limped off. It hit me kinda hard — this was a big deal, and despite everything that had happened on the court between us, I couldn’t help but feel for her.

“Yeah,” I muttered. "I’m sure she’ll bounce back."

After that the gym felt a little different now. The ball didn’t bounce as loudly, and the drill didn’t seem as important. All I could think about was how quickly things could change in an instant. How that could have been me. How it could still be me.

…

Later that night, laying in bed, Paige aimlessly scrolled through social media. Her feed was flooded with news of Azzi's injury. It was everywhere. All anyone seemed to be talking about was the #1 player in the class of 2021 tearing both her ACL and MCL after her incredible sophomore year. Paige had to admit, it hit her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. She had seen Azzi's growth first-hand the few times they’d played — her rise to stardom, the awards, and now, this. The thought of the rivalry they'd shared now feeling so... empty... nagged at her.

Paige knew that she’d see St. John’s again twice next year but something about the thought of no Azzi in the mix made it not as exciting. Without Azzi, there wouldn’t be any real competition left. Their games had been some of the most intense, back-and-forth battles she’d ever played in, and now that felt like it was over. There was no way Azzi would be back before the playoffs next year.

Paige’s fingers hovered over her phone screen as her mind wandered. She didn’t know why she was doing this, but she found herself scrolling through her contacts, looking for Azzi's number. They’d played together on the U16 team and Paige had everyone’s number from the team saved after they insisted on having a groupchat. She tapped it and paused, unsure of what to say, knowing if she was in Azzi’s shoes no words would ease whatever she was feeling. Still she sent a message anyway.

You'll bounce back. It's just a setback Fudd.

She stared at the message, fingers hovering for a moment before hitting send. She didn’t expect a response. What was she even doing? Azzi probably didn’t even want to hear from her, they didn’t even like each other. But it felt wrong to just leave it at that — to not acknowledge what Azzi was going through. She knew the girl after all.

With a heavy sigh, Paige set her phone down and went to brush her teeth to get ready for bed. She didn’t really expect a response back.

But when she returned, phone in hand, her screen illuminated, signaling a new notification.

Thank you, means a lot.

Paige typed a quick reply: Anytime.

Then she put her phone on the nightstand, settling into bed as she turned on a WNBA game.

November 2019

Azzi sat at the end of the bench, her leg throbbing slightly beneath the brace, trying to make sense of the game she’d just watched. Her team had been outclassed from the jump, and without her on the floor, it felt like they had no chance. Paige of course had been unstoppable—37 points, and the craziest part was, she didn’t touch the floor the whole fourth quarter. It was almost embarrassing to watch.

When the buzzer finally rang, signaling the end of the game, Azzi’s shoulders slumped and she sighed in relief that it was over. She didn’t even look at the scoreboard; it didn’t matter. She stayed seated as her teammates lined up to shake hands with the Gonzaga players. The energy in the gym was deflated—everyone had known the outcome was a foregone conclusion the moment the game tipped off.

As Azzi adjusted her knee brace and slowly stood up, she was surprised to see Paige walking toward her.

The other players from Gonzaga hadn’t thought to come over and shake her hand, but Paige didn’t hesitate. She offered Azzi a quick high five, her face a mix of competitiveness and something else. Azzi raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the gesture but unwilling to show any emotion to the blonde in front of her.

Paige’s voice was light, almost teasing. “What’s that, 4-1 now, Fudd?”

Azzi couldn’t help but scoff. “You didn’t talk shit the whole game,” she said, eyes narrowing. “You just had to come over here and ruin it, didn't you?”

Paige laughed, a playful glint in her eyes. As she turned to walk away, she tossed over her shoulder, “No comp to talk shit to on the court that’s all.”

Azzi watched her go, a mix of annoyance and begrudging admiration in her chest. Paige had a way of making things look easy, and even though Azzi hated it and hated how she acted, she couldn’t deny it—Paige was damn good.

March 2020 - Paige’s POV

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, my head in my hands, stomach in knots. My phone sat next to me, buzzing with more notifications I couldn’t bring myself to check. The championship game we’d worked so damn hard for, the perfect season we’d earned — all of it, gone. Just like that.

CoVid-19 had canceled the last game, and I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. It felt like a bad dream. The end of my high school career. Just like that, like a snap of a few fingers. Kind of funny how life is in that way.

We had been unstoppable. Undefeated. We were supposed to go out on top. I was supposed to walk off that court with my teammates, with that championship trophy, the culmination of all the hard work and sacrifice after losing last year. But now, it was all over, and I was left with nothing but this empty feeling in my chest.

It felt wrong, especially after the season I’d had. Gatorade Female High School Athlete of the Year. Gatorade National Player of the Year. Naismith Prep Player of the Year. Morgan Wootten National Player of the Year. I was on the cover of SLAM, for fucks sake. A McDonald’s All-American. I was supposed to play in the Jordan Brand Classic. The championship with my team was supposed to be the last piece of the puzzle. And now it was just... taken from me. From all of us.

I wasn’t the only one feeling it, but that didn’t make it any easier. My teammates were crushed, too. We all were. We’d worked for this. We had dreams about our comeback season, and now they were dashed. I just couldn’t understand how everything had unraveled so quickly.

It wasn’t just about the game, though. It was everything that came with it. The way everything seemed to be falling into place too quickly. My future at UConn was waiting, but it felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me before I was ready. All of a sudden, the world felt uncertain even though I knew exactly where I was headed for the next four years.

I tried not to think about the stuff I’d lose, like the last game I was supposed to play, the players I was supposed to compete against, and the milestones I was supposed to hit with my team. Instead, I kept thinking about what was next.

The only thing I could do right now was work. There was no championship trophy to hold, no fans to cheer for me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still prepare.

So, I grabbed my shoes and headed to the gym. I knew there was no real closure here. Not right now, so it was pointless to get in my feelings about it. Pointless to sit around and be sad. There was still a season ahead of me, more basketball to play. College was waiting now.

…

The gym was quiet except for the sound of basketballs bouncing. Paige was working through her shots, focused as she tested her range and worked on different combo moves. She wasn’t expecting company, everything was shut down. Her thoughts were elsewhere—on the future, not on what had been taken from her. The weight of losing her senior season to the pandemic still hung over her, though she didn’t let it show in her work.

Then, she heard the faint sound of footsteps behind her. She pulled off her headphones and turned around, surprised to see Azzi standing there. It had been about seven months since Azzi’s knee injury, and seeing her standing there in person was different from seeing her in a game. The two of them never really spoke outside of playing one another, and the awkwardness of the situation wasn’t lost on either of them.

Azzi paused when their eyes met. “My bad, didn’t know anyone was here,” she said, clearly about to turn and leave. The gym was small and only half a court and she didn’t want to deal with whatever Paige had to say today.

Paige shook her head in disagreement, clearly not phased by her presence. “It’s cool. You don’t need to leave.”

Azzi hesitated before nodding and walking over to the bench, sitting down to put on her basketball shoes. Paige returned to shooting. Once Azzi had finished getting ready, she stood up, stretched, and grabbed a ball. Paige was still shooting when she glanced over taking off her headphones again.

“How’s the knee?” Paige asked before she could stop herself, looking down at the black sleeve covering Azzi’s right leg. Her voice broke the silence, and Azzi looked at her, surprised by the blonde speaking to her.

“It’s a work in progress,” Azzi replied, her tone softer than Paige had ever heard. It was clear she was still recovering, but she didn’t seem too eager to talk about it.

Paige simply hummed in response, turning back to the basket. Neither of them said much after that.

Paige continued to go through her drills as Azzi worked on her shots, most of them swishing effortlessly through the net, though she was missing more than usual. Paige, focused as always, didn’t really think too much about what the other girl had going on. After a while of silence, Azzi turned to her.

“Congrats on all your awards, by the way,” Azzi said, her voice genuine, even if it came out a little unexpectedly and awkwardly. Paige nodded, briefly acknowledging it with a half smile. There wasn’t much more to say—her accomplishments had all come in a season that felt incomplete, and she didn’t really wanna think about that right now.

Then, on a rebound, Azzi’s ball went a little further than expected, and Paige jogged to retrieve it, having been closer as she was getting some water. Azzi watched her and when Paige came back, she passed Azzi the ball without a word.

That was the turning point. Instead of keeping to their separate routines, they began to shoot together. Azzi rebounded for Paige, and Paige did the same for Azzi. They moved around the court, each shot a natural rhythm as they stepped into the pass. The way they moved, the way they passed and shot, was effortless, like they had done this a thousand times before. Neither said a word as they shot, they were just happy to not have to run after their own rebound every two seconds. The ease between them told a story of mutual respect even though it was usually clear they weren’t too fond of each other.

The silence between them stretched on as Paige and Azzi continued to shoot. The rhythm of their movements, the swish of the net, and the soft thud of the ball bouncing were the only sounds filling the gym. They both seemed absorbed in their own thoughts as they passed the ball back and forth.

After some time, Paige’s phone kept buzzing so she glanced at the clock. She had been there longer than she’d planned, and she remembered telling Drew she’d take him to the movies. So she reluctantly made her way to the bench to take off her basketball shoes even though she hadn’t cleared her mind like she hoped. Azzi was still shooting, focused and intent, as if the ball and the hoop were the only things that mattered.

Paige bent down to untie her shoes, glancing up as she did. Azzi missed another shot, and the ball rolled off to the side. Paige grabbed it without thinking, tossing it back to Azzi with a casual flick of her wrist.

As the ball landed back in Azzi’s hands, Paige couldn’t help but notice the slight hesitation in Azzi’s movements, the way she seemed to favor her left leg a bit. Azzi took a moment before shooting again, but the ball missed again, clanging off the rim and bouncing awkwardly as the girl groaned in frustration.

Paige stood up, grabbing her shoes from the ground as she spoke. “You’re favoring your left side when you shoot now,” she said, her voice calm but observant. “That’s why your shot’s not falling. You gotta trust that your knee will be fine.”

Azzi paused, the ball resting in her hands as she processed the comment. Paige could see the wheels turning in Azzi’s mind, the realization slowly dawning on her. She didn’t reply, but Paige noticed the way she shifted her weight as she took a second shot, more thoughtfully this time as it went through the net.

Paige didn't linger, just headed toward the door. Azzi didn’t say anything more either, lost in her thoughts as she continued to shoot.

November 2020

Azzi had been wrestling with the decision for weeks. The pressure to commit was everywhere, with coaches, family, and even fans weighing in with their opinions. Narrowing her choices to UCLA, Maryland, and UConn had been easy enough—each school had its appeal.

Maryland offered familiarity. The hometown hero story would mean playing in front of her family and friends, building a legacy close to home. UCLA? Well, their facilities were out of this world, and the program was on the rise and it would be nice to be the player who brought them to the top. But UConn... UConn was something else entirely.

The school was synonymous with greatness. Azzi had grown up dreaming of wearing that blue and white jersey, playing under Geno Auriemma, and being part of a dynasty, of being a husky. There was no denying the opportunity to grow under one of the best coaches in basketball history.

But there was a large problem. Paige.

Azzi had only crossed paths with Paige a handful of times during their games, but each interaction had left a bad taste in her mouth. Paige Bueckers was an undeniable talent, but her confidence often read as arrogance. The way Paige carried herself—with that smirk and cocky demeanor—rubbed Azzi the wrong way every time. Could she really spend years as a teammate to someone who seemed so self-absorbed? She couldn’t imagine having to share the court with the girl let alone the ball that she would probably never pass to Azzi.

Azzi turned the thought over and over in her mind day after day, replaying memories of Paige’s antics during games, her posturing, the way the media fawned over her, the way she soaked it in. It was irritating. Still, Azzi decided she couldn’t let one person dictate her future. This was her dream, her opportunity to compete at the highest level, to win championships.

When Azzi made her commitment to UConn public, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The decision was made, and she was ready to face whatever came next—even Paige and all of her bullshit.

A couple of states away in Connecticut, Paige sat scrolling through her phone in the gym when the news broke. A tweet caught her eye, and as she opened it, her jaw nearly hit the floor.

"DMV’s Azzi Fudd, 2021 #1 Recruit Commits to University of Connecticut"

Paige stared at the screen, rereading the headline as if it would change. Her eyebrows shot up, and her eyes bulged in disbelief.

“What the fuck” Paige muttered to herself.

December 2020

During high school winter break Geno organized Azzi to come on a visit to meet the team before her official arrival. The visist had been going smoothly—almost perfectly, in fact. The facilities were incredible, Geno’s warmth and charisma made her feel valued, and the team seemed thrilled to have her there. Everything felt right. Everything except the glaring absence of Paige Bueckers.

It wasn’t like Azzi had come to the visit just to ‘officially’ meet Paige, but it would’ve been nice. Paige was clearly the face of the program now, the freshman star everyone raved about. If they were going to be teammates, Azzi figured they’d at least cross paths before she officially got to campus the upcoming summer. But so far, Paige had been conspicuously absent from all the introductions, the tour, and now the relaxed hangout in the dorm's common area.

The team was great, though. Christyn and Olivia, two of the team’s upperclassmen had gone out of their way to make Azzi feel comfortable, sharing stories about what it was like to play under Geno. Christyn was particularly funny, throwing in sarcastic comments about Olivia’s sometimes over-the-top pregame rituals.

Aaliyah, Nika, Saylor, and Piath—some of the freshmen—were a mix of energy and chaos. Nika’s personality was magnetic; she was constantly cracking jokes and pulling Azzi into the group’s banter. Aaliyah had a quieter, grounded presence, offering up thoughtful questions and laughing at Nika’s antics. Saylor and Piath added their own flair, with Saylor occasionally teasing Nika for her over-the-top expressions and Piath keeping things calm when the group got a little rowdy.

Then there was Aubrey, who was nestled between the older and younger players. She had an easygoing vibe, but there was something quietly sharp about her observations and she didn’t seem to talk much. But as the night wore on, Aubrey began to loosen up a bit and was leaning in to share a few inside jokes about the team dynamics here and there.

“You’ll like it here,” Aubrey said, nudging Azzi with her elbow. “Well, once you get used to all the chaos… and Paige.”

The mention of Paige brought the blonde’s absence into sharper focus. Azzi glanced toward the only closed door in the suite, making her assume it was Paige’s. Azzi had heard what sounded like the same game replaying over and over since she’d been in the suite coming from behind the closed door. She hadn’t thought much of it earlier, but now it felt a little deliberate that she hadn’t come out yet.

Evina noticed Azzi’s glance and sighed. “I’ll go get her,” she said, standing up and walking toward Paige’s door.

Before she could get there and knock, the door swung open. Paige emerged in a whirlwind, a granola bar clamped between her teeth, headphones slung around her neck, her phone in one hand, and her basketball shoes in the other.

“Hey, P,” Evina said, trying to stop her. “Come hang out for a bit. Azzi’s here.”

Paige grunted, barely making eye contact. “Can’t. Played like ass yesterday,” she mumbled around the granola bar before walking past everyone and out of the suite.

Azzi scoffed, unable to hold it in. It was hard not to take it personally. She didn’t know Paige well, but her quick exit felt more like an insult than anything else.

“No, don't take offense,” Evina said, noticing Azzi’s reaction. “Paige is… well, she’s Paige. You’ll get to know her. She’d live in the gym if we let her. Trust me, it’s not about you.”

Aubrey snorted from her spot on the couch. “Yeah I lost a bet and had to drag her out of there twice this week. First time, I turned the lights off. She didn’t even notice, or didn’t care. She just kept shooting until she got tired of me messing with her music and walked out.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “And the second time?”

“Had to practically carry her out,” Aubrey said with a laugh. “She gave up eventually, but only because I promised her Nika wouldn’t eat all the protein bars anymore.”

“I don’t eat all of them!” Nika protested loudly, drawing laughter from the group.

Azzi chuckled slightly but her irritation still lingered. Sure, Paige might be obsessive about basketball, but her absence still felt pointed with Azzi knowing the older girl didn’t like her. Azzi decided to ignore it though and as the night wore on, the team’s easy camaraderie pulled her in, and Azzi found herself genuinely liking everyone. Even looking forward to being here in the summer.

But Paige’s absence hung over everything, making it hard for Azzi to fully relax. When it got close to midnight and Paige still hadn’t returned, Nika, Aubrey, and Evina began debating who should go to the gym this time.

“I went twice already!” Aubrey said, throwing her hands up. “I’m not doing it again. I’d rather wrestle Olivia’s big ass for the remote.”

“You didn’t even try last yesterday,” Nika teased. “You just texted her and gave up and I had to go eventually.”

“Yeah, because she’s a weirdo when she’s like this.”

Evina groaned, standing up. “Fine shut up. I’ll go.”

Azzi watched as Evina grabbed her keys and headed out, her frustration bubbling to the surface again.

About thirty minutes later, the door to the suite swung open, and Evina stepped in, followed by a very irritated Paige. Azzi immediately noticed the tension as Paige, her hair sticking slightly to her forehead from sweat, strode in mid-sentence.

“It’s not that big of a fucking deal, E,” Paige muttered, clearly continuing a heated discussion the two had been having on their way back.

“It is a big deal,” Evina shot back, her voice calm but firm. “And you’re going to handle it. Now.”

Paige groaned dramatically, tossing her basketball shoes onto the floor by her room before following Evina inside. The door shut behind them, and for a brief moment, the suite was quiet.

Then came the muffled sounds of what was unmistakably yelling. Azzi wasn’t sure whether Paige or Evina was louder, but she could hear enough to piece together that Evina was getting on Paige about something.

The team, meanwhile, carried on as if this was perfectly normal, as if it was their routine. Aaliyah was fiddling with the remote trying to find a game, Aubrey was scrolling through her phone, and Christyn and Olivia were engaged in a debate over which snack brand had the best pretzels.

Eventually, the noise from Paige’s room stopped, and a few moments later, Evina emerged, her expression relaxed and a victorious smile playing on her lips. “She’ll be out soon,” she announced, as if this was some kind of accomplishment.

True to her word, a while later, Paige reappeared. She had swapped her clothes for a loose hoodie and joggers, her wet hair thrown over her shoulders. She glanced at Azzi, her blue eyes softening slightly.

“Hey,” Paige said, offering a small, almost sheepish smile. “Sorry for missing most of your visit. Welcome to UConn Azzi.”

Evina, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, watched the interaction with a knowing grin, as though she’d personally orchestrated this rare moment of civility.

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by Paige’s shift in demeanor. She nodded, her response clipped but polite. “It’s all good.”

Paige didn’t seem to notice Azzi’s hesitation—or if she did, she didn’t care. She flopped down onto the couch between Nika and Olivia with an exaggerated sigh, stretching her legs out and leaning her head against Nika’s shoulder.

“Welcome back to the land of the living twin,” Nika greeted her, her voice light and teasing.

Paige tilted her head, giving Nika a look that Azzi couldn’t quite decipher. It was like an entire conversation passed between them in a single expression. Nika burst out laughing, shaking her head as she nudged Paige playfully, making the blonde crack a smile as she leaned back on Nika’s shoulder.

The casual interaction threw Azzi off. For someone who’d seemed so intense and standoffish earlier, Paige was now practically melting into Nika. It was… strange.

Nika, Azzi had learned over the course of the evening, was one of the sweetest and most outgoing members of the team, always cracking jokes and making people feel included. On the surface, she and Paige couldn’t have been more different, yet here they were, leaning on each other like lifelong best friends.

Before Azzi could think too much about it, Christyn, who had been munching on a bag of chips, reached into the cabinet and tossed two protein bars at Paige, hitting her square in the chest.

“Eat,” Christyn ordered, her tone casual but firm. Paige barely reacted, opening one of the bars and shoving a piece of it in her mouth without a word.

Azzi couldn’t help but notice the dynamic. It was almost as if it was second nature for everyone to take care of Paige. Dragging her out of the gym, making sure she ate, looking out for her even when she seemed pissy about it.

It was strange to witness but oddly endearing picking up on how much they cared about each other. Azzi still wasn’t sure how Paige fit into the easygoing, tight-knit vibe of the rest of the team, but seeing her now—grumbling about snacks while slouching into Nika’s shoulder—it was clear there was more to her than Azzi had originally thought.

Azzi had planned to be the bigger person today and put all their bad blood to the side. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that Paige had been avoiding her, and it left a sour taste, so she kept her mouth shut.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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magpiepills · 11 months ago

Text

Into The Deep End

Rating: EXPLICIT! 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Joel Miller: Hole Filler x AFAB reader

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: you and your friend are invited to swim at the home of her boyfriend’s friend.

Warnings: PIV, dirty talk, little size kink, age gap, swimming, girls kissing girls, multiple orgasms, creampie, drug and alcohol use. no use of y/n, no outbreak, no Sarah, plus perhaps others.

A word for the author: this is a repost! well this isn’t the DBF I had planned. He wasn’t cooperating, so instead you get Best Friend’s Boyfriend’s Buddy Joel and his big dick. The important thing is that we have Joel and we have him in a timely manner!

Kim hadn’t shut up about her boyfriends neighbor all week. “He’s sooo good looking. If it wasn’t for Matt, I’d be all over him. Maybe I’ll be all over him anyway, Matt likes it when I flirt!”

“Isn’t he like, fifty though?” You frown, not looking up from your magazine.

“Nah, he’s forty, tops. Does it matter though? He’s gorgeous. Wait until you see him.”

You were skeptical. It seemed weird for an older guy to invite some college kids to hang out and swim in his pool. You needed some excitement and distraction in your life, though. College had been rough. Classes were grueling and your own boyfriend had unceremoniously dumped you right before finals. It was a killer blow.

“Whats his name? Josh? Jared? Is he really ok with us using his pool?”

“It’s Joel. And he said we can come over any time. He lives alone and he’s always been like a big brother to Matt. Plus he’s so chill. He always has weed, he’s not creepy, he’s fun. You’ll love him. I told him all about you and he seemed really interested in meeting you.”

“Kim!” You admonished and swatted her with your magazine. “Do not try anything with this guy. I don’t need to be set up with an old guy!”

“Just wait until you see him. You’ll thank me.”

And she was right. On Saturday afternoon you and Kim met Matt at Joel’s house. The guys were already in the back yard, music playing, cooler full of beer by the back door, floats in the pool. Kim ran to Matt, and he lifted her into a hug, one hand squeezing her ass in a wide grip. You sat down the bag holding your towel, sunscreen, and tshirt, and said hello to the astoundingly attractive man sitting at the patio table.

“You must be Joel. Thanks for letting us use your pool.”

“Don’t mention it. Matt told me you girls are home for the summer, so feel free to come by any time and swim. Beer?” He gestured at the cooler.

“Please!” You accepted his offer gratefully and watched him press the cap into his big palm and twist it off. Kim was right, he’s gorgeous. Tall and tan, with silver just beginning to thread through his dark, messy hair and dark brown eyes. He had a broad chest and shoulders. You took the beer and sipped, and eyed him as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a slightly soft belly and a trail of dark hair leading under his light blue trunks. Dear god you thought, a giddy feeling welling up inside you with an urge to run your hands over his skin. You felt like such a creep. You imagined touching him and smelling him, laying your head on his chest, biting his shoulder.

“Come in with me!” Kim’s call snapped you out of your thoughts, and you grabbed your towel, spreading it on the concrete. The water was warm, and it felt good to float and splash around a while. A game of chicken was suggested and abandoned, in favor of a round of shots, and you felt a little disappointed that you wouldn’t get to sit on Joel’s shoulders. You’d have to find another way to get your legs around him.

You got out of the pool, toweled off, and rummaged through our bag until you found your sunscreen. Perched on the patio chair, you slathered your arms and shoulders with Hawaiian tropic, and glanced up at Joel, catching his gaze for a fraction of a second before his eyes darted away. He could pretend he wasn’t watching you rub sunscreen on your chest all he wanted.

Kim swam near you and put her arms about your waist, leaning close to whisper in your ear “He’s hot, right? Are you sorry you doubted me?” “So sorry, Kim, I’m going to fuck him, I swear to god.” You said it with a laugh, but you kind of meant it.

After a few more drinks you were feeling bold, you and Kim were getting handsy with each other, a familiar intimacy shared by best friends, but something the two of you’d wielded more than once to draw the gaze of the boys you wanted to tease. Matt was happy to watch, and Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you and Kim, squeezing each other's hips and casually tugging at each other's bikini tops, dragging fingertips along the edge of the triangles over your breasts, whispering and giggling and all but kissing. “Here we go!” You could hear Matt whoop, finally noticing what you and Kim were doing. You saw Joel shifting down in his seat, adjusting his trunks as inconspicuously as he could, but you knew what he was doing. Your eyes met his and you gave him the smallest smile before turning back to Kim and whispering to her again. The beers you’d drank and the raw attraction you felt for Joel were mixing together low in your stomach and your inhibition was quickly dissolving.

Matt had had enough and jumped into the water, wrapping his arms around you and Kim and making lewd jokes about threesomes that had you giggling and blushing. He had seen enough of you and Kim’s shenanigans to know that it wasn’t going to happen and he eventually pulled your bestie away to the shallow end to make out, leaving you alone. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, and as you tried to decide what to do next, you felt a splash on your shoulder. Joel had came and sat on the edge of the pool, looking down at you and smiling his open, warm smile before slipping in beside you.

“Are you and her and him a thing?” He asked, sounding awestruck that such a thing could happen in his own pool.

“No, just friends. I’ve known Kim for ages, we like to goof around.”

“I never goofed around with my friends like that. What’s your boyfriend think?” There it was.

“No boyfriend. Just all by my lonesome. What about you? Is your girlfriend out with her girlfriend?”

“Damn. I wish. But no, no girlfriend to speak of.”

With that you let him watch as you slowly looked him over, nibbling flirtatiously at your lip, not knowing how you wanted him to respond. He smiled and in better light you might be able to see him blush.

“‘Nother beer?”

“Why not?”

You followed him out of the pool, he got out first, then turned to offer you a hand to pull yourself up. A big, wide, strong, warm hand. Back at the table you sat closer to him, sipping your beer and twisting lazily in the comfy spinning chair.

You chatted for a while, about movies you’d seen, music you liked, books you’ve read, finding you had a lot of things in common. The longer you talked, the closer together you got until your legs were across his lap and he was gently stroking your calves.

Kim and Matt were asleep on a lounge chair, and you really should have woken them up to go home, them in his bed, you on the couch, but instead, you and Joel just looked at them for a moment, and he asked if you wanted to watch a movie.

“It’s not that late, they’ll probably get up soon and want to leave.” He reasoned and you didn’t have an argument.

You just followed him through the sliding patio door, past a sparse but clean kitchen, and onto an ugly sofa that was more comfortable than your own bed.

You groaned when you sank into it, tucking your legs under you. You had slipped on your tshirt, but your now dry bikini was still underneath. Joel’s house was dark and cool inside, the only light coming from the light over the stove in the kitchen and the tv.

Joel put on Night of the Living Dead and came back to the couch with a blanket, tossing it over you. You noticed he had changed into soft looking plaid pajama pants and a gray shirt, smelling like a mix of fabric softener and chlorine. He propped his feet on the coffee table and started the movie.

“It’s ok if you get scared. I won’t tell anybody if you hide your eyes.” He teased.

You told him how you loved scary movies, even though they terrified you.

When the first vaguely gruesome scene came on you pulled the blanket over your face. Joel pulled you against his side with a sigh.

“I’ll tell you when it’s over.” His arm stayed around you though, and you lifted the blanket so he could get under too.

It wasn’t long before your legs were back in his lap and he watched you while you watched the movie.

“This isn’t even that scary. They’re too slow.”

Maybe you were just lulled into comfort by Joel’s presence and warmth, and the way he stroked his thumb up and down your shin, squeezed your ankle gently, massaged your calf…

“Slow’s good.”

His voice was a little deeper, and he was a little closer and you didn’t move away. You turned your head and looked at him, gazing down at you, messy hair and soft eyes.

“Yeah. Maybe slow’s not bad.”

He hummed and brushed his nose against yours.

Your lips met slowly, sliding to fit together like a jigsaw puzzle, warm and soft, and his hand on your shin moved up to your knee, up to your thigh, to your hip, where he found the little bow of your bikini bottom and you could feel him smile against your lips .

“Been wanting to do this all day. Ever since I saw you walk in.”

You were surely blushing now. “You should have. All I heard about all day was how good looking you are.”

Joel sat up a little straighter and lifted his eyebrows at that. “Oh yeah? Did I disappoint ya?” He asked while you leaned forward so he could tug your t-shirt over your head.

“When we were in the pool I told Kim I was going to fuck you.”

Your admission stopped him in his tracks, stunned and mouth agape.

“Jesus, you’ve got a mouth on you.”

And you couldn’t stop yourself then. “Mhm. I can show you my mouth.”

Not your sexiest line, but it had the intended effect. Joel was looking at you like he wasn’t sure you were real.

“Come here.” He pulled you onto his lap so you were straddling him, only your bikini and his pajama pants separating you now, you could feel him, hard and huge.

You circled your hips, making him groan as he kissed you deeply, tongues meeting and swirling gently before he kissed a path down your neck, across your collarbone, and down between your breasts before l pressing a kiss to each one. He slid his hands up your sides as he kissed, and toyed with the thin material of your top before dipping two thick fingers under the fabric and pulling it to the side. He kissed the swell of your breast before licking the firm peak, and sucking it into his warm mouth. Everything about Joel was so soft and warm and comfortable.

“Let me take this off.” He said with his fingers already pulling at the strings tied at the back of your neck. It wasn’t a request, really. He was needy. You quickly untied the strings at your back and flung the whole thing over your shoulder.

He sat back, mesmerized by your tits. He stared, wide-eyed for a moment before cupping both breasts, lifting and squeezing them, kissing and licking your pebbles nipples as he tilted his hips to grind his cock against your covered pussy.

You ran your fingers through his hair, met each movement, surely leaving a wet spot between you, and when you couldn’t take it any more, you reached down and pulled the string on either side of your hips.

“Fuck. Are you going to let me do this?”

You bit your bottom lip, looked at him through your eyelashes and nodded. “You want to fuck me Joel?”

He moved fast, grabbing the fabric out from under you and slinging it away and wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you against his chest while he used his other hand to cover your pussy, the heat of his palm radiating up through your core, sliding his fingers forward and back to gather your slick and spread it through your folds and over your clit.

“You’re so wet. You get wet for me? Like feeling this big cock? This what you need to fill you up?” He lifted his hips to press his cock against your mound, making you moan into his neck.

“Yes. Yes Joel, please.”

Neither of you were going to be able to hold out much longer. You wanted to tease each other, but you needed him inside you.

He lifted his hips again, shimmying down his pants and boxers as quickly as he could. Finally freed, he arranged you on his lap, his cock resting on the curve of your ass, so close to where you needed him.

“You on the pill or somethin’?” He asked as he ran his fingers over your folds again, making you tilt your hips to chase his touch, then stroking his cock with your arousal.

“Yeah. I’m good, got an iud.”

“Good, cause I’m not pullin’ out.” He said, as he positioned his thick head at your entrance and pulled you downward to meet his thrust.

The pinch was extraordinary, but melted out into a warmth that made him feel destined to be inside you. The two of you set a rhythm, you grinding down and him thrusting up, slow and deep, and wet, letting your clit roll against him. Your orgasm crept up, hot and tight in your belly, and he could feel you on the edge of release.

“Want to feel you come on my cock. Squeezin me so tight, feel you soaking me.” He babbled at you and took your nipple back into his mouth, grunting lewdly as he sucked.

It was so much. So many sensations, his mouth, his cock, his hands, his heat, his voice, they crashed over you like a tidal wave.

Joel watched, rapt as you rode it out on his lap, loving how you used his body for your own pleasure, loving how you responded to him, how you took him.

You came back to him with a kiss, blissed out, feeling floaty.

“Fuck, that was good.” You purred to him, no plan to ever leave his lap.

“Gotta fuck you, sweetheart. Y’feel too good.” He throbbed inside you, setting off a small aftershock.

Leaning back, bracing yourself on his knees, you rode him slowly, swiveling your hips, tits on display for him, giving him a good look at where he entered you, and of the thick white ring around the base of his turgid member.

The room spun when Joel flipped you onto the couch. He knelt between your knees, jerking himself at the sight of your swollen pussy, your flushed chest, your kiss-reddened lips.

In a final sprint toward his own finish, Joel pulled your hips up against his, buried himself deep and complete in your wet pussy, and set an unrelenting pace. No words were left except his chanting Fuck, fuck, oh fuck. Oh shit baby. Fuck! Accompanied by your whining, your begging for his cum. You didn’t need to wait long for your reward, although you think you gladly spend the rest of your life stretched around his cock.

He broke with three final thrusts, lips falling open, stilling inside you to spill deep.

Spent and disoriented, Joel dropped his weight onto you while he caught his breath. He kissed your chest, rubbed your side, and lay in comfortable quiet until you tapped his shoulder, reluctantly parting to clean yourselves up.

Joel found your swimsuit for you, and gave you a tshirt to put on. He tried to find the words to ask you to stay, to spend the weekend, the week, the month with him. To keep fucking him and talking to him and eating and watching movies. He wanted to take you out, play your songs, see your apartment, everything that would keep

You in arms reach. But the back door slid open, and there were Kim and Matt bursting your bubble of possibility with their impeccable timing to take you away.

Before he could stop you, your flip flops were on, your keys were in your hand, and you were kissing his cheek goodbye.

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