#there's so many little things that stuck with me for years between reads

[bucketbueckers]

COME AROUND

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader content: language, kinda angsty (but with a happy ending because above all else, i am my own target audience), friends to lovers to exes to lovers, too many gatsby references, teenage awkardness, hopkins!p, sexuality, generational fumble from paige, mental health, slight injury, painfully long

wc: 27.0k synopsis: You were always a little tender-hearted. That’s why your friends told you to stay far, far away from Paige Bueckers. You tried, you honestly did – but Paige was magnetic, and she loved you, and you were just a little too weak to say no. Eventually, you’d have to come to terms with the realization that the both of you were growing up far too fast and that there were many lessons still left to be learned, although you never thought that moment of reckoning would come in the fashion that it did. Despite losing your way over the years, the beautiful thing about life is that you always find your way back home. notes: kinda funny that i thought this was gonna be like 5-6k words long...lol sike 😍 last night's game actually killed me but what do i actually know about basketball. i just work here. this fic came to me in a fever dream and was not planned out at all, is poorly proof-read, and at the end of the day i dont actually know if its good or not cause im sick of reading it. also. please let me know how we feel about the sexuality/process of coming out. i tried to make it as authentic as possible (i did NOT feel like writing homophobia, paige and reader got enough shit going on in this one shot) but lowkey...idk how it works. crazy lore drop but when i realized i liked girls i said "ok" and went on with my day and then eventually got outed to my family so like..oh well. i think that's it though but as always let me know what y'all think and pls pls enjoy 🫶

tags: @unadulteratedcyclepaper @avvwritesstufff @surferandskater5

You were always a little tender hearted — or so you’ve been told. Your heart lives perpetually on your sleeve, bared, bleeding, beating persistently regardless of the way it breaks under the slightest pressure. You’re a patchwork of criss-crossing bandages, an amalgamation of stitches and sutures; nevertheless, you still find the bravery to love and open up your heart in spite of it all. You wouldn’t say that you let people walk all over you. You’re outspoken and proud of it, opinionated and driven. In the same breath, you’re sensitive and trusting – perhaps to a fault, but that’s just who you are.

You don’t think this is a character flaw. Yes, you get hurt, but that’s inevitable. You like to think that if people like you stopped putting love and compassion into the world, then it would all go to shit eventually. You like to think that there is someone out there who will see your effort for what it is and care enough to protect your heart as if it were their own. Platonically, romantically, you didn’t particularly mind – you wanted to forge genuine connections with people. You wanted to love in whatever form that came to be. So, yes. You get hurt. Yes, it would be easier for you to not care so much at all, but if people gave up so quickly, then how would we grow? How can we expect to glean something from the world if it was a depleted resource?

Hopkins, Minnesota, was a quaint little city, but it was where you grew up. Elementary and middle school was… well, elementary and middle school. You learned a lot about yourself, about others, and made a few close friends that have stuck by you for years. Then high school came around and things shifted. Your classmates were confusing mixtures of self-absorbed and altruistic, trying too hard to be one thing or the other, and it was this strange imbalance between finding who you’re supposed to be versus staying true to what you’ve known. It’s that weird thing called growing up, and sure, everyone does it – in a literal sense as they grow older physically, but also as they change their minds and learn new things about the world and themselves, although growing up in high school is just so daunting. It’s like you’re supposed to have all of the right answers, right now, which is scary because you don’t even have the right answers for algebra yet you’re supposed to make life-altering decisions about the person you are?

You digress, though. Freshman year is decent. You get into a steady rhythm, join a couple of clubs that will look good on college applications, and you make a few new friends, ones that feel a little more like you despite the ones you’ve been holding onto since kindergarten. Sophomore year is full of changes, yet again.

But junior year? They weren’t lying when they said it would be the hardest year of high school. You were taking a few AP classes and a dual enrollment class or two to round it out, but despite that, junior year comes with a lot more internal realizations. You weren’t a sports person by any means, but Paige Bueckers soon became a name you were intimately familiar with. She’d led her team pretty far into the playoffs during sophomore year although they ultimately fell short. There was something about her that was magnetic and you wanted to know more, see more. She was a freshman phenom, a generational player.

And when you mention this to your friends, trying to screw up the courage to attend one of the Hopkins girls’ games, you’re adamant that this new shift has nothing to do with the six foot, blonde guard with whom you share a fourth period AP Lit class with. Sure, Paige is ridiculously pretty (even though you’re 100% straight), charming, and she has a way of drawing everyone in. You’d just like to be her friend and that’s all there is to it. You don’t stare at her as your literature teacher rambles on about whatever classic book you’re reading – you don’t remember if it’s To Kill a Mockingbird or The Great Gatsby, but as long as Paige is sitting one row in front and two chairs to the right of you, there probably isn’t a chance that you’ll find it in you to care.

Then, around late October, it’s time for group projects and you’re just hoping you’re not paired with someone who doesn’t want to do the work. When your teacher rattles off your name, pausing once to glance at the rest of the roster, and calling out Paige as your partner, you aren’t entirely sure if this is something you want to celebrate or dread. You look up from your open book, The Great Gatsby, although you’ve read this dozens of times already, and you find that Paige is already turning back to look at you. Her face is a mix of easygoing confidence and gentle kindness all wrapped up in a radiant smile that makes your heart drop out of your ass.

Your classmates shuffle around and she slides into the desk seat next to yours, her knees bumping awkwardly on the sides, but she hardly pays it any mind as she introduces herself to you, as if she isn’t the most famous seventeen-year-old you’ve ever sat next to. You figure that her introduction is more out of humility than anything else. It’s probably daunting to be her, intimidating to bear the weight of countless expectations on shoulders that are barely broad enough to fill out her jersey. You give her your name and she repeats it back to you slowly, testing the pronunciation on her tongue, and grinning when you nod, ignoring the blush that creeps up on your neck.

“A’ight,” Paige says, rubbing her hands together in a way that looks corny as hell, but you can’t help but be amused by it, “What do you think?”

The prompt on the board is simple – by AP Lit standards, at least. Explain the symbolism of the green light. Common interpretations think of the light as a representation of Gatsby’s love for Daisy, the American Dream, or money. Do you believe any of these interpretations (or an interpretation of your own) reflect the themes of the story and Gatsby, or do you believe the narrator, Nick Carraway, has unreliably pushed his own thoughts and interpretations onto Gatsby? How does the green light tie into the broader themes of Gatsby and Daisy’s relationship? Your project must be in the form of a PowerPoint presentation…

You stop reading as the rest of the prompt goes into the rubric. “You first,” you tell Paige, smiling when she huffs dramatically.

“I think it’s supposed to represent Gatsby’s feelings for Daisy,” Paige states. “I mean, it’s constant, like Gatsby’s been in love with Daisy for years. Even before he went off to war. And he’s always starin’ at it at night. I do think Nick is putting his own thoughts into it. Like, by sayin’ Gatsby believes in the ‘orgastic future that year by year recedes before us.’ I’on even know what that means.” You can’t help but laugh at this, drawing a grin from Paige. “But you know what I mean, right? He fell in love with this girl before he went off to war, years pass and he’s alive but she’s married to another dude and he’s rich and lonely and I guess he’s close to her, but they ain’t really that close – I feel like that light just, you know, reminds him that she’s there.” Paige’s voice gets quieter the more she rambles, and when she catches the soft attentiveness in your features, she scratches the back of her neck, shy.

You smile at her. “You know, I wouldn’t have expected that kind of analysis from you,” you admit.

“Bro, what?” she exclaims, choking on a laugh as you dissolve into giggles. “I see how it is. It’s ‘cause I’m supposed to be a dumb jock, right?”

You roll your eyes, your cheeks hurting from the strength of your smile. “No. I mean, like what you said about the light reminding him that she’s there. I always thought I was the only one who interpreted it that way, too.” Paige’s gaze softens as she takes in your explanation. “I feel like Gatsby is trapped in two different times – the past, where he loved her, and the present, where he still loves her but can’t have her. The light simultaneously reminds him of what he’s lost but also what he could have, you know?” Paige nods, encouraging you to go on. “There’s a distance between them, literally, but I think Gatsby feels like Daisy is still within reach. That his dreams are still within reach. I don’t think he realizes he’s chasing a dream from five years ago, or that Daisy eventually moves on as Nick watches Daisy fall in and out of love with Gatsby.”

“That is…really depressing,” Paige says, which makes you laugh again, but the way she’s gazing at you makes you feel as though she’s seeing you in a different light.

You shrug a shoulder, trying to not think too hard about the way her blue eyes sparkle. “I cried over this book a couple of times. I’m kind of a professional now.”

“Now that’s somethin’ I’d expect from you,” Paige teases.

“Okay, jerk!” you gasp indignantly. “You don’t even know me. What makes you so sure of that?”

Paige hums, pretending to think about something, but her expression is undeniably smug. “Call it intuition. How about you let me get to know you and I’ll let you know if it’s true?”

Oh. You were definitely not expecting that one. Your heart thrums a little at the implication, but it softens ever so slightly because you can clearly make out the earnestness reflected in her eyes, the realization that despite the grandeur and the fame and the talent beyond her years, Paige is still human.

“Well,” you say in a manner that you hope is supposed to be coy, “we’re stuck together now for this project. Getting to know me is a little inevitable.”

“Oh, it’s like that?” Paige asks, her lips tugging into a teasing smirk, one that makes you feel exasperated – in a good way. “And what happens after the project? You still gonna let me hang around and annoy you?”

You can’t help but laugh a little, hating the way your pulse races, although you ignore it. “We’ll see if I still like you by then,” you say, which makes her smirk turn into a smile that’s a little more tender, less cocky.

“I can work with that,” she promises. And with that, the both of you start outlining your project. Paige throws in a comment here and there that makes you laugh, keeping the mood light as you work. At the end of the period, you punch your number into her phone, dutifully ignoring the grin on her face and the blush on yours. She texts you immediately after just to be sure, but she texts you during your next class to complain about how boring her history teacher is, too. Conversation comes easy with Paige. It’s like she just knows – knows you – and you’re not sure if that should scare you or excite you. Despite not knowing why your budding friendship with Paige feels so different, you just know that it feels right, and that was good enough for you.

Your last class of the day is a study hall and you’re sitting at a table in the back with two of your friends, Mack and Serena. You can all but feel the mood shift when you recount your day. The mere mention of Paige is enough for your friends to jump on the defensive.

“You need to stay away from her,” Mack says, her tone serious. You frown, glancing at Serena for some help, but she only shifts uncomfortably, finding her online work a lot more appealing than this conversation. “Paige is someone who’s gonna break your heart, okay?”

“It’s not even like that–”

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Mack states firmly. “It wasn’t like that when Izy left, was it?”

Despite yourself, your expression sours, and Mack reclines as though she’s made her point. You suppose she has. Izy was your best friend. The two of you were attached at the hip since kindergarten, but in freshman year, she found a new group of friends. She had a lot more in common with them than she did with you – or so it seemed – and she didn’t necessarily cut you off, but it probably would have been easier if she did. The two of you talked sparingly, plans always seemed to fall through, and the loss of that friendship hurt just as much as a break up would.

“Or ‘he-who-shall-not-be-named,’” Serena adds unhelpfully, because all it does is twist your heart again. He who shall not be named, or more colloquially known as Logan, was your first boyfriend. Granted, you only dated him for about three months in the eighth grade, but the break up turned your world upside down. He was your first something. That wasn’t anything to scoff at and he wasn’t kind in the aftermath, so it’s not really your fault for feeling impossibly upset about it. Maybe there was just something about you that made it difficult for people to want to stick around, but maybe there was something about you that managed to pick wrong every time.

“Those are different,” you argue. You can’t help the way your voice wavers, and you feel angry at yourself all over again for getting upset about this. “I was friends with Izy for ten years and Logan was my first boyfriend. They meant something to me.”

“Sure,” Mack concedes. “But you felt a lot for them. Watching you work through that heartbreak…” She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to get hurt. You’ve been hurt by a lot of ignorant people, and, yeah, you always get back up at the end of the day, but I know it weighs on you.” Mack pauses, finding her thoughts as you stare imploringly at her. “People talk, you know. Paige talks to a lot of people. She’s not the type of person to stay in one place. You know as soon as she gets an offer, she’s leaving Minnesota and she’s not gonna look back. She’s destined for something a little greater than Hopkins.”

You swallow thickly, Mack’s words hitting you harder than she probably intended. Part of you knows that she’s right. Paige is only a junior but she’s a top prospect coming out of high school. She’s going to go to a great college for basketball. UConn, South Carolina, Notre Dame – one of the dynasties. You’re sure she’d get an offer to stay home and attend the University of Minnesota, but you also know that she’s worth a lot more than Minnesota. The other part of you, the part more connected to that bleeding heart of yours, doesn’t want to listen to Mack. It holds out hope that you wouldn’t be just another part of Paige’s past – maybe you could be part of her future.

Mack glances up at you again, studying your expression, and she softens. “Hey,” she says, gathering your attention. “I’m not gonna make a choice for you. If you wanna be her friend…go for it. I just want you to be careful who you show your heart to. Some people take it for granted.”

You nod carefully, appreciative of the way she looks out for you, and the two of you return to your work. Only moments later, your phone buzzes on the table. A notification from Paige lights up on your screen, then two, and you smile despite yourself and open your messages. You text her back, already pushing your conversation with Mack and Serena to the back of your mind, and you hardly notice their concerned glances as you respond.

Your project isn’t due until mid-December, the Friday before winter break, but you and Paige spend nearly every other day together when she doesn’t have practice. It’s a steady rhythm for the two of you: sitting through your literature class together, exchanging teasing glances and text messages when your teacher isn’t looking, complaining about the other classes you don’t share with each other, and finding yourselves at one or the other’s house to work on your project or simply enjoy each other’s company. You’ll admit that the two of you don’t get much work done most days, instead filling the time with pointless conversations about nothing but mean everything. Hours with Paige feels like mere minutes and you don’t part until a parent texts about dinner and you have to go your separate ways.

She invites you out to one of her games. It’s on a Friday night, and at first, you want to decline, hearing Mack’s words swirl through your brain once more. People talk, you know. Paige talks to a lot of people. She’s not the type of person to stay in one place. You don’t want to have to share Paige’s attention, which is a realization that shocks you to your core. It’s dangerously possessive and honestly, it flusters you a little. You’d never been so territorial over a friend’s time like you have been with Paige. Perhaps territorial isn’t even the right word. You have no claim over Paige, nor does she have any claim over you. You don’t like girls and you don’t like her in that way, even if that disjointed flutter in your chest makes you wonder otherwise. You don’t.

Paige seems to read your expression perfectly. That’s a new thing, too. You have been friends for less than a month, although it feels like you’ve known her forever. You know her favorite color, the women she grew up idolizing, the larger-than-life dreams that you know she’s going to make come true because Paige is nothing if not a girl who works hard and believes in herself. You know the messier parts of Paige, her parent’s divorce, her unyielding faith, and the uncharacteristically insecure “I like girls. Does that change anything with us?” that she’d whispered over the phone one night (your heart had raced and you felt warmth creep up your cheeks; you didn’t know what that meant, but you wholeheartedly meant it when you promised her that it wouldn’t change anything).

“You won’t even know I’m there,” you say to Paige, referring back to the game, and her brows furrow in a stupefied confusion. “Are you, like, aware of how many people go to your games?”

Paige rolls her eyes, but the action lacks any real heat as a smile spreads across her face, slow and insufferable in that way only Paige is capable of. “If you’re in the stands, I’m not gonna care about anyone else,” she promises, which makes your heart skip a beat. “I want you there.”

You didn’t really need much convincing after that, so on Friday night, you find yourself in the student section. You’re not even sure who the Royals are playing – probably a district rival – but the one thing you’re sure of is that Paige oozes with confidence, an easy grin on her face as she warms up on the court. She’s chatting with one of her teammates, although her eyes scan the gym imperceptibly. Then, her eyes are sliding across your figure, taking in your – her – Hopkins basketball hoodie that she forced you to wear, showcasing her last name and her number on the back of it, and her grin softens as she waves at you.

That night, Paige plays like she has a point to prove. She’s unguardable from the three-point line, demanding in the paint like she’s prime Lebron James, and she slices through the other teams defense seamlessly as she makes near impossible passes to her wide open teammates. Paige is full of energy, a searing combination of adrenaline and pure love for the game, but the trait that truly captures your attention is the unfiltered cockiness. Off the court, Paige is humble, although you’re still trying to figure out if that’s truly who she is or if it’s her protecting herself from all of the eyes that are on her constantly. But on the court? Paige plays like she’s the best player in the state (which she is) and she plays like she knows she’s the best player in the state (she knows she is). The only word that comes to mind is menace. Paige isn’t a dick, but when she sinks a three, she throws up three fingers as she back pedals for defense. When she landed an impossible buzzer beater to send off the first half, she’d glanced down at her arm, tapping on her wrist as if she were wearing a watch. Then, late in the third quarter, when she stole the ball from an opposing player and took it across the court for the easiest layup of her life and stole the ball again when the other team was trying to inbound it (she scored on that one, too), her celebration was directed at you. She pointed at you in the crowd, a grin on her face and pride in her eyes, and you couldn’t help but laugh at her, shaking your head as the warmth spread through your body.

Seeing Paige play in person is like seeing her in a different light, and honestly, you feel like you know her a little better now. You feel more drawn to her. She offers to walk you home after the game. At first, you want to decline. She just played out of her mind and lead her team to a blowout win against whoever the fuck and your mom is just a call away. Paige insists, reminding you that your houses really aren’t that far apart, and you suppose you can’t really argue against that one.

She keeps you entertained the entire walk back, cracking jokes and recounting some of her favorite plays from the game, and when her knuckles brush against yours as she rambles, you find that you really don’t mind that spark of electricity that runs up your spine at the contact. She tests the waters, pressing closer and closer until finally, she links her pinky with yours under the streetlight; you smile at her, something that’s simultaneously soft and welcoming and laced with the sudden realization about yourself that you’d been putting off the entire time you’d known Paige. You liked her. She glances over at you, mid sentence with a content smile on her face. When she registers the fact that you’ve been staring at her, she stutters, fumbling over her words, and you can’t help your laughter as she blushes bright pink.

It should probably scare you a lot more than it does. Liking a girl is scary and daunting but liking Paige, your best friend, feels like something new entirely. You remember Mack’s words again. People talk, you know. Paige talks to a lot of people. She’s not the type of person to stay in one place. As quickly as they’d popped into your brain, you push them to the back of your mind. Mack doesn’t know Paige like you. That much you’re sure of. And if you get hurt in the process of trying to live and experience things for the first time and giving your heart out to someone, then so be it; you were used to it by now, but the gentleness of Paige’s gaze under the moonlight feels like she’s promising that she wouldn’t hurt you.

The two of you pause at your doorstep. You can hear the gentle thrum of crickets, the drag of the wind across grass and leaves. Paige stands tall over you, her expression soft as she gazes down at you with what seems like a flicker of hope – for what, you’re not sure. The air between you feels charged, electric, like you’re opposite ends of a magnet and it’s only a matter of time before you fall into each other entirely.

“So,” she murmurs, cocking a wry smile at you. The usual sharp edges of her confidence has rounded out, enveloping you both in a sort of tenderness that makes your heart ache in the most confusing and best way possible.

“So,” you agree, drawing a quiet huff of laughter from Paige, who runs the flat of her palm across her jaw, contemplative. You give her the space to find her words – she’s done the same for you many times; she was usually the talker between the two of you, but you’ve come to find that she’s an amazing listener, too. A beat passes and she doesn’t say anything, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, and that’s when you decide to step in. “You played great tonight,” you admit.

Paige blinks, as if she’d forgotten all about the basketball game she spent your entire walk home rambling about. Her brows relax, her smile turning bashful, and you can clearly see the humble pride in her eyes, illuminated by porchlight. “You were there,” she says. “Had to show out.” You roll your eyes fondly, your heart thundering in your chest. “Does this mean you’ll come to more of my games?”

You pause, pretending to think about it, but you’re sure the smile on your face gives you away as you respond, “Maybe. I’ll think about it.” Paige sighs, playfully exasperated, and you give in easily. “I’ll be there. I had to make sure you were actually good at this basketball thing.”

“My biggest cheerleader,” she mumbles dryly. The sheer excitement and relief on her face betrays her words and her tone and you can’t help but laugh.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you say. Your voice is hardly a whisper, but it seems to echo in this little bubble of space that the two of you have created.

“I – yeah, I mean, of course,” Paige stammers. She clears her throat, exhaling a long, deep breath, and you’re certain the fondness shows on your face as you stare at her. Paige quirks a smile, slightly embarrassed. “Stop laughing at me!”

“I’m not!” you exclaim, laughing for real now, which just makes Paige dissolve into laughter of her own. Soon enough, your giggles die down, and you’re both staring at each other with soft, captured smiles. The awkwardness of the moment melts away into something lighter; briefly, you wonder if she’d been standing this close the entire time – you can feel the warmth of her body as she stands mere inches away from you. “Goodnight, Paige.”

“Goodnight,” she whispers, but she doesn’t move, and neither do you. You don’t shy away when her fingers tentatively brush across your waist, her body eclipsing yours, and the both of you are slowly inching towards each other, breaths mingling when your front door bursts open and your little brother pops his head out with a shout of your name. You and Paige scramble away from each other, feeling like you’ve been caught red-handed.

“Get inside!” you hiss at your little brother, not awaiting his response as you push him back inside, closing the door and leaning against it. Part of you feels like crawling into a hole and never coming out of it. Your gaze returns to Paige, who’s staring at you with a mix of amusement, embarrassment, and a whole lot of affection. You sigh, feeling both resigned and like you’d been cheated out of something, and you press your forehead into the door to curb the awkwardness. “Sorry,” you say, knowing full well why you’re apologizing but also understanding that acknowledging the need to apologize is the same as acknowledging the fact that you and Paige were about to do something that would drastically change the course of your friendship.

“S’okay,” Paige says earnestly. You lift your head to meet her gaze, hoping that she’s not just saying it to make you feel better about yourself, but you find nothing but honesty in her features. Her hand brushes against yours once more, a gentle smile on her face. “I’ll text you when I’m home, yeah?”

You nod, exhaling again, mustering up a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes due to the overwhelming embarrassment. “Yeah. Night, Paige.”

“Goodnight,” she says again, her expression soft, and this time, she does leave, her hands buried in her pockets. You swear she glances back at you but it’s too dark to tell for sure. Tentatively, you make your way inside, unwilling to meet your brother’s eyes. It’s not until you’re getting changed for bed that you realize you’re still wearing the hoodie she’d given to you.

You pull it off slowly, carefully, like it’s a prized possession. To you, it may as well be. After what transpired on your front porch only moments ago – or what almost transpired on your front porch, the fact that you’re in possession of her hoodie feels strangely intimate to you. It feels right, too, which is probably more concerning, but you don’t have time to dwell on it as your phone lights up with a message from Paige, then another one. Both texts are simple with the first one reading “Home” and the second one bidding you one last goodnight with a heart emoji. You respond in kind, and when your eyes find her hoodie again, you can’t help the fond, lingering smile that spreads across your face.

You and Paige don’t talk about the almost-kiss on your front porch the morning after. You don’t talk about it the day after that, or on Monday morning when she meets you in the parking lot at school. In fact, the both of you pretend like it didn’t happen at all. It doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. You start to wonder if it even happened at all – if it wasn’t for your brain conjuring images of Paige so close to you, her hand splayed on your waist, you would be sure that you had imagined it.

So, while the two of you don’t talk about it, you do a lot of thinking about it, probably enough for the both of you. You have a lot of new things to consider, such as the fact you almost kissed your best friend (and the fact that you wanted to kiss your best friend), the fact that you have feelings for your best friend, and the fact that you have feelings for your best friend who is a girl. There’s nothing wrong with girls liking girls. That wasn’t your concern. The situation as a whole is just new and unexpected and you don’t have a lot of the answers you’ve been searching for – like do you even like like girls or do you just like like Paige? Do you only like girls or do you like boys, too? You and Logan were thirteen. You’re not much older now, but at that age, it’s difficult to determine if you actually liked anyone in a sense that wasn’t completely platonic or if you were just trying to pretend that you did so you could fit in with everyone else.

You’re fine with the sexuality crisis – for now. You have bigger things to worry about, like being attracted to your best friend. You were no expert by any means, but you were smart enough to know that having feelings for your best friend was generally a pretty terrible idea. For starters, you’re not even sure if Paige likes you back. You’re sure that she’d be cool enough to remain your friend after rejecting you, but you’re not sure if you’d be able to handle the embarrassment of going from friends to extremely awkward friends. On the other hand, there is a chance she wouldn’t want to associate with you, either. The one thing you’re certain of is that you could not handle losing Paige – as a friend or otherwise. In essence, you’re stuck in between a rock and a hard place.

The more that you think about your predicament, the more you realize. A week later, you’re overthinking yours and Paige’s most recent hangout. You’d gone over to her house to “work on the project,” but that had actually turned into Paige flopping onto her bed dramatically and complaining about being sore from practice. Somehow, that meant she wouldn’t be able to contribute, and somehow, that meant the two of you would just have to binge the entire High School Musical series. You spent hours curled into Paige’s side on her bed, her hand tracing patterns onto your shoulder as the movie played on, but you didn’t really pay any mind to Travis or Danielle or whoever the main characters were. Paige was intoxicating, casual in the way she held you, and you sat through the entire movie keenly aware of the way her body pressed into yours and the scent of her cologne on her neck – but you’re getting off track. A new fear about your situation has manifested and despite Paige being the one initially worried that her liking girls would make things uncomfortable for the two of you, you’re now the one wondering if your sexuality is a reason for discomfort.

You worry that you’re the one taking advantage of your friendship. Are you overstepping friendship boundaries just because you’re incredibly close with Paige, or is there a subconscious belief that just because Paige likes girls, too, that means you can invade her personal space like they don’t matter? You worry that you’re making her uncomfortable and she’s just too polite to say anything about it. However, you also understand the fact that just because Paige likes girls doesn’t mean she likes you. That’s simultaneously a source of relief and dread. Relief because honestly, nothing has to change between the two of you. Dread because as time goes on, your feelings for Paige only get stronger, and you’d really like it if she liked you, too.

You decide to put your impending mental breakdown on the back burner. You have actual problems to worry about now, such as the due date of your project that’s quickly closing in. Your literature teacher was usually pretty lenient, but the project was still worth a huge chunk of your grade and you’re sure Paige would kill you herself if receiving a bad score on the project meant she wouldn’t be academically eligible to play basketball. The two of you make a conscious effort to lock in during the last week of the project, a little crunched for time as you’d spent so much of your “project time” talking for hours and watching movies. Granted, Paige ends up shouldering a lot more of the work as time passes on although you do your best to help out in between daydreams about her hand on your waist again.

On Thursday, the night before the project is due and two days before winter break, things seem to reach their tipping point.

You and Paige are basically finished with the project – you were proofreading and scanning your PowerPoint for academic content and ensuring your sentences made any bit of sense. Paige was pressed into your side, “quality checking the designs” as she’d said, but you just thought she was full of shit. She’s unnaturally quiet as the two of you work, until she shifts, her legs stretching out next to yours. “Think the only thing this project’s taught me is that this book is depressing as shit,” she says to you once you click over to the slide titled Gatsby and Daisy: Doomed by Time.

You hum, glancing over at her. She’s swamped in an oversized hoodie but looks impossibly comfortable as she reclines on your bed. “Alright,” you say, “I’ll bite. Why?”

She flips onto her side, explaining, “Literally everything was working against them. Time, society, people. Gatsby and Daisy were the epitome of right person, wrong time and there was nothin’ they could do to, like, get around that, you know? He went off to war, she got married, and he missed his shot ‘cause time keeps movin’. Daisy chose stability over love – Tom’s rich and can provide for her. But Gatsby was rich too. I’on get it.”

“Well,” you murmur, “wealth is not usually a good replacement for actual love.”

“You don’t think Gatsby loved Daisy?”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t love her. I’m saying he doesn’t love the version of Daisy that actually exists,” you explain. Paige gazes at you, a furrow in her brow like she’s realizing something new — about you, about herself, you can’t be sure. “He’s so obsessed with this idealized version of her from way back when and he just doesn’t understand that’s not really who she is anymore. I feel like that’s kinda the point of the green light, too.” As you think about your next words, your voice drops to a near whisper, your throat tightening with a sudden, unrestrained emotion that you can’t quite keep at bay. You meet her eyes, your stare unwavering, hoping that she can read between the lines. “Physically, the light is far away, right? It’s out of reach. But also – it’s a light. It’s impossible to hold. It’s a lesson about the impossibility of desire, that some dreams cost too much.”

Paige is quiet for a few beats, her eyes searching yours. You have always been intentional with your words. That was one of the things she knew to be true about you. Now, she seems to fully recognize your words for what they are — a confession for what you’re otherwise too afraid to say out loud. You’ve given her an out. She could sit here and wax poetic about the same topics and themes you’ve been debating over the last two months, about whether or not Gatsby truly loved Daisy, if the feelings Daisy had for Gatsby were worth giving up her life of comfort and peace, if Gatsby were worth it. Her hand brushes your waist again, her fingertips light against the skin of your navel where your sweatshirt has ridden up, and the jolt of electricity that courses through your veins reminds you of just how risky this whole thing was. You’ve all but given Paige your heart on a silver platter, perhaps too foolish or naive in the way you always search for more, more, more. Maybe you’re asking her for too much. You know she’s leaving Hopkins the first chance she gets. All of that is pushed to the back of your mind when her gaze traces your figure. 

Finally, she speaks. “I don’t think it’s too far away,” she says, understanding exactly what you were trying to say. “Not for you.” Her words ease the tension in your shoulders, her thumb brushing against your skin reassuringly. Her voice is firm, full of conviction, like she’s never been more sure of anything else before. She pauses, your eyes locked together, and her features soften ever so slightly. “Not for us.”

You quirk a small, relieved smile, relishing in the way Paige’s face relaxes, too. “You don’t think it’s impossible?” You don’t say the quiet part out loud – the “You don’t think we’re impossible?”

But Paige knows you. You’ve given more to her  than you’ve ever given to anyone in the past, friend or otherwise, and she doesn’t hesitate. “No.” Her hand settles fully on your waist now, squeezing you gently. “And even if it was… you’re worth it.” She smiles softly, her expression vulnerable and trusting despite the fact that she’s opening herself up to get hurt, too. You’re beginning to realize that the chance of getting hurt is just a risk everyone takes.

You can’t help the entire way your face softens at her confession. You realize that subconsciously, she’d said the very words you’d been hoping to hear for some time now although you never had the vocabulary to tell yourself that – that you never had the vocabulary to tell her that. But you watch the way she studies you, the way she swallows her nerves, and you begin to understand that maybe she doesn’t have the vocabulary, either, but she’s trying her best regardless. This is something that the both of you are doing for the first time; granted, you had one previous relationship, but this new thing between you and Paige feels a whole lot different. She’s the first person you think you actually consciously had feelings for, the first girl, and despite your relief and excitement, that reminder is enough to make you clam up.

You clear your throat, shifting slightly, and you pull your laptop between the two of you. “Well, we should probably get this finished,” you say with the grace of an elephant tromping through weeds. You click over to the next slide. “Does this look fine to you?”

Paige goes oddly silent, her brows furrowing in confusion and disbelief. “Uh, what?” she says.

“I said does this–”

“No, I heard you,” Paige interrupts. When you don’t meet her eyes, she sighs, exasperated, and closes the lid on your laptop, pushing it to the foot of your bed despite your protests. Then, her hand is sliding around your waist again, resting on the small of your back and pulling you onto your side so you come face to face. Your mouth clamps shut; the heat of Paige’s gaze feels like it’s enough to pick you apart, to melt you entirely, and you know well enough by now that you’re not getting out of this conversation without explaining yourself to her. “Why’d you freak out?” Paige’s voice softens, tinged with an anxious embarrassment as she adds, “I thought we — did I say too much? Do you not…?”

Instantly, you feel guilt all over. You didn’t realize how bad the situation sounded before now, with you changing the topic uncomfortably after Paige basically told you she liked you. “No, I—” You falter, your words failing you, but Paige stares at you with a hopeful patience. “I’ve never… done this before,” you confess. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever liked.”

Realization dawns on Paige’s face. “Oh,” she says, a mixture of relief and understanding lacing her tone. 

“Yeah,” you agree, a vulnerable smile quirking on your lips. “It’s new. A little scary. I really like you but I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“S’okay,” Paige murmurs. Her hand finds yours. “I really like you, too. We can figure it out together.” Her breath catches, eyes widening just a bit. “I mean, if that’s somethin’ you’d want. No pressure.”

You laugh, eyes twinkling as Paige’s cheeks flush pink. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” you tease her. 

Paige huffs, flopping dramatically onto her other side and putting her back to you. “Goodbye!” 

You can’t stop the smile from spreading across your cheeks but you do stop laughing. You reach out, resting your hand tentatively over her bicep as you hook your chin over her shoulder. “Hey, come on,” you say. “I can’t be the only one who has to be vulnerable.” You can nearly visualize Paige’s eye roll, but she does shift again, meeting your eyes. “I’d like that. Figuring this out with you, I mean.”

Her eyes light up, a slow smile dragging across her face. You don’t even think she’s consciously aware of how happy she looks. “You’re for real?”

You shake your head, laughing under your breath. “Yes, Paige, I’m for real.”

“Good,” she states, beaming.

“Now can we finish our project?”

Paige groans dramatically, rolling over again until she’s sprawled out over you. She hitches one of her obnoxiously long legs across yours, looping an arm around your waist and making herself at home like she’s done this hundreds of times. You can’t stop the flutter in your chest, smiling despite yourself. “Do we gotta?”

“Do you gotta pass AP Lit?” you retort. 

That prompts a sigh from Paige, who untangles herself from you to reach for the laptop she’d pushed haphazardly to the foot of the bed. You miss her warmth immediately, but she’s not gone for long before she’s leaning back against your headboard, your thighs pressed together. She doesn’t make any move to turn it back on, her eyes finding yours instead. You look at her curiously.

“I just want you to know I’m serious about this,” she says honestly, taking you by surprise. “About us.” You soften. “I know a lot of people have hurt you. I’on wanna be one of them. You’re my best friend, you know? I care about you. So…let’s take this slow for now, lemme know how you’re feelin’, yeah?”

You nod, smiling gently and she gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Same goes for you,” you say, leaning into her a little. She presses herself into your body, her chin brushing against your temple as she nods her head. 

“Promise,” she murmurs. 

And with that vow lingering in the air, the two of you share private, almost starstruck grins and get back to work. Once you finally call it quits fifteen minutes later and you submit your project, Paige is all too content to push your laptop to the side again as she wraps an arm around you fully and begins her scroll through Netflix despite the fact that you know the two of you will be watching High School Musical sooner rather than later. You grin to yourself when she does eventually put it on, not fighting the way your cheeks burn when she absentmindedly plays with your fingers or the way your heart races when she shifts to get comfortable, your legs tangling together. 

As you watch the movie, Paige’s words circulate on repeat in your brain. A lot of people have hurt you. I don’t want to be one of them. You know better than anyone that getting hurt is just another part of life. Despite yourself, you can’t help but believe her, confident that no matter what, your heart will be safe in her hands. You don’t think much of Mack’s warning, of Paige’s celebrity, of just how young the two of you are to be making these kinds of promises. You’re not thinking of the future at all. Your happiness clouds your judgement, and whether you realize it or not, you and Paige are operating on borrowed time. 

Things with Paige are great. Scratch that, they’re nothing short of amazing. The two of you spend the entirety of winter break attached at the hip, splitting your time between your house where you drink copious amounts of hot chocolate and binge silly Christmas movies and her house where you and Drew, her little brother, gang up on her in snowball fights. She whines about the fact it’s two on one, but you point out the fact she’s got an arm like a quarterback and it’s only fair. She only really understands what you mean by that when she launches a snowball at you hard enough to bruise your side, which cuts your snow day short. Paige apologizes profusely, much to your amusement, and she insists on “nursing you back to health” which, in retrospect, seems to have been a clever ploy to get you away from her family and into her arms in the comfort of her room — not that you really needed much convincing for that. 

Sometimes, your days are spent in the park, when Paige gets too restless being inside and wants to play basketball. The two of you shovel away enough snow to reveal the three point line and you rebound for Paige as she shoots. She only manages to get a couple of shots in before her hands get too cold and she starts complaining that the only way to warm them back up is if you’ll hold them. You oblige, you always do, endlessly endeared by her (mostly because you can always spot her gloves hanging out of her back pocket).

The park becomes a place of comfort for the two of you. It’s late December in Minnesota so you almost always have the park to yourselves. You’re able to talk freely without either of your annoying little brothers constantly barging in or worrying about your parents catching you. Paige is out to her family and the Bueckers support her wholeheartedly. You’re not out to your parents yet. You know they wouldn’t particularly mind, either; if anything, they’d probably just implement a really strict open door policy, but it’s still all really new to you. You like Paige. A lot. You fall for her more and more everyday. She’s goofy, sweet (even when she’s teasing you or getting on your nerves), confident, and she always knows how to make you laugh. She’s attentive and she listens. Liking Paige is something you’ve accepted, but you can’t help but be scared of the fact that you don’t really know anything about yourself. 

You can’t figure out if you like girls or if you just like Paige. You can’t look at anyone that’s not her and before her, you’d never even looked twice at another girl. Sure, you always averted your eyes when you passed Victoria’s Secret in the mall and you were really obsessed with Shego from Kim Possible and Starfire from Teen Titans, which could mean nothing. You can’t figure out if you like boys, either, if Logan was a one time thing or if you’d just confused yourself because you wanted to fit in. You don’t know if you’re a lesbian, or if you’re bisexual, something in between or nothing at all. You should be fine with knowing that you like Paige. People always say you don’t have to label it, but labeling means that you know and that it’s real and you can’t help but think that because you don’t know what you’re doing, that you’re doing it wrong or you’re just faking it all.

So you don’t tell your parents. You’re still trying to make sense of it all and you tell Paige as much, honestly a little fearful of her rejection. Part of you feels like you’re leading her on because you can’t give her a straight (no pun intended) answer.

“You don’t gotta have it figured out right now,” she tells you a few days after Christmas. The two of you are back in the park, savoring the peace in the emptiness as you sit side by side on the swings, swaying gently.

You groan a little. “I hate when people say that,” you respond. “I feel like I should know.”

Her eyes find you, warm and patient despite the chill and the fact you’ve been going back and forth on this for days now with you stressing out and Paige being endlessly reassuring about it. “Maybe you do know and you just can’t, like, put it into words?” she offers, drawing your attention. “Sexuality is a spectrum. It doesn’t have to be difficult. You don’t gotta look back on your life for evidence to prove it or whatever. Just be you.”

You fall silent, her words hitting home, and you hate the fact that you’ve been losing your mind over this and all it really took to find some clarity was a conversation with Paige on a swing. Maybe she was right. She usually is about things like this. But you can’t help but feel like you’re missing something. You were the type of person who needed a reason or an explanation for everything. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” you rush out, barely registering the raise of Paige’s eyebrows. “I know we said slow. I can do that. But I really like you, like really really like you, and that’s all I’m certain of. I don’t know everything else and I feel like I should because you know everything else—”

“I don’t,” she interrupts, but you keep rambling.

“—but I like you. You’re sweet and you’re kind and you understand me when I don’t understand myself. You always make me feel secure and I hate that this is so confusing!”

Her gloved hand slides into your hoodie pocket. Her fingers tangle with yours, calming a tremor you hadn’t realized you were harboring. She murmurs your name, pulling your gaze to hers, and she squeezes your hand. “Breathe,” she instructs. You do, calming the incessant thrum of your heart. “There we go.” When you’re feeling a little more stable, she continues. “You’re overthinking it.”

“I don’t wanna mess up with you,” you confess, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders when it’s out.

“You won’t,” she promises. “We agreed we’d figure it out, remember? And even if you do mess up, it’s not gonna change how I feel about you. I like you, like really really like you.” This makes you laugh, your breath steaming in the air. “That’s what matters. You like me. I like you. You don’t need to explain why you feel a way and you can’t fake how you feel. I know you.” The expression on Paige’s face is unbelievably fond and you can’t help yourself when you smile, your cheeks heating up. “See?” Paige says with a grin, poking your cheek. “Can’t fake that blush, ma.”

“You’re impossible,” you huff, pushing her hand away, unable to curb your grin. But your rejection does little to stop Paige. Her hands find your sides, tickling you, and you immediately begin squirming in the midst of your giggles. “Paige! You are so annoying—!”

You lose your balance on the swing and you fall off, tumbling safely to the bed of snow beneath you with a slight oof sound. Paige follows you down, the both of you smiling as you try to catch your breaths. She wipes a tear off your cheek that had slipped out in your fits of laughter and it’s only then that you register your position. She’s straddling you, the beanie on her head lopsided from your scuffle, but the joy on her face is radiant despite the blush on her cheeks — whether it’s from the cold or her feelings for you, you don’t know, and when her hand lingers on her cheek, her expression softening, you find that you don’t care. “Paige,” you murmur. You feel your heart slamming against your ribcage, but for different reasons now. 

“Can I kiss you?” she blurts. Judging by the way her face contorts, it seems that she hadn’t expected to say that out loud, but you’re nodding, hands reaching up to grip the collar of her coat and you bring her down to your level. 

When your lips meet, you feel warm all over, like you’re not laying in the snow with Paige’s legs bracketing your thighs. It’s tentative, uncoordinated, and it’s clear that neither of you really know what you’re doing, but it’s your first kiss and it’s with Paige and it’s nothing short of perfect. Your lips move against hers slowly, her hands gentle on your cheeks. Your grip on her coat loosens, wrapping around her neck and pulling her a little closer to you. Her nose brushes against yours and you gasp from the chill of it, which causes her to sigh against you. You’re not really sure who’s leading, but for once, your brain is blissfully quiet; your heart pounds, feeling nothing but a nervous excitement and unfiltered adoration.

You break away for air. Your breaths mingle, clouds of steam fogging between you two and Paige grins down at you, her expression full of fondness and something electric that makes you want to drag her back down again. So you do, your hands a little more insistent this time, and she responds eagerly. Despite the intensity, Paige is unbelievably gentle and each and every press of her lips against yours is sweet. And it’s corny, but your brain feels a little clearer after having Paige’s lips on yours, like you no longer have to search for answers. Like she’s the answer.

She pulls away, her forehead against yours, and you press a gentle kiss to her cheek. Her eyes open slowly, a blush and a smile simultaneously appearing on her face in response. “What was that for?” she asks.

You smile, shrugging a little in response. “It felt right,” you respond, which only seems to make her smile grow. “Someone once told me I don’t always have to have an explanation.”

Paige huffs out a quiet laugh, her eyes crinkling in amusement and fondness. “They sound really smart,” she jokes. 

Your hand finds her cheek, your thumb stroking her dimple. “She is,” you say seriously. Paige’s expression softens, leaning into your touch. “She’s the best person I know.”

“I bet she thinks the same about you,” Paige whispers. 

Despite yourself, you grin, connecting your lips again. The chill nips at your cheeks but the weight of Paige on top of you grounds you, her warmth stabilizing and comforting, and you know in your heart that you’re doing something right.

New Year’s comes and goes and before you know it, school is starting back up in January. Between you and Paige, a lot of things stay the same. She still drives you to school in the morning, often stopping by Dunkin’ and buying you your favorite coffee. On days she doesn’t have practice, she’ll either drive you home or take you to her place where you either work on homework together (although you don’t get much done, most of the time) or binge television together. Paige has you invested in Grey’s Anatomy now, but the two of you have promised to not watch it without the other.

On the other hand, some things do change. Paige walks you to all of your classes now, even when hers aren’t anywhere near yours. Arguing with her was useless, so you learned to suck it up. She kisses you in the empty hallways, something chaste and sweet and sneaky that leaves you wanting more – that was a new thing. Before her, you never realized how nice kissing can be. You’re sure it’s mostly because you’re super into her regardless, but there’s also something about the casual intimacy that you fall for each and every time. She’s gentle and considerate and you’re just so hopelessly attracted to her that you really should have known that kissing her for the first time would alter your brain chemistry. For now, the two of you are content to appreciate the peace and the privacy that you have. Neither of you tell your friends or your family, though you’re sure Mack and Serena are starting to have their suspicions. They’ve asked you a few times, and while you’re not a very good liar, they seem to accept your rejections as they are and they don’t push any further.

Although you do have one, teensy-tiny problem. Paige hasn’t asked you to be her girlfriend yet. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel about that, but there is a lingering nervousness and you’re a little hesitant to ask her about it without sounding obsessive or clingy or insecure. In mid-December, you established that you liked each other, although neither of you really did much about that until you kissed in late-December after Christmas. Did kissing her mean the two of you were dating now? Since then, the two of you have kissed a lot. It reminds you of the scene from Glee where Brittany says, ‘Sex isn’t dating. If it was, Santana and I would be dating,’ and granted, while having sex and just kissing are two different things, you’re starting to feel a little worried by the fact that you and Paige are conventionally girlfriends but not technically.

You convince yourself that maybe you and Paige were just being mature about it. High school relationships have almost redefined what dating actually means. You can’t just ask someone to be your boyfriend or girlfriend and then start the ‘dating period’ per se. You should probably do the ‘dating period’ first and then make it official once you’ve figured out if you’re compatible. You and Paige, however, have been friends for a little over three months, been in this weird ‘dating’ phase for a little less than one month of that time, and by now you’re pretty certain that you and Paige are very compatible. She’s your best friend. But you really want to make it official with her. You’re just not sure how or if she’s on the same page yet.

Making it official with Paige also means making it official to your parents. That thought doesn’t intimidate you as much as it used to. You’re a lot more comfortable in your sexuality now. You’re pretty much head over heels for Paige, you like girls, and you couldn’t care less about boys. Whether that makes you a lesbian or Paige-sexual as Paige had cracked herself up calling it is a discussion for another day. You’re secure in the fact that Paige’s parents aren’t going to care, that your parents won’t mind, either, and that your classmates are worried more about themselves than whoever you of all people are dating. Being out just means you don’t have to stress about sneaking around or if someone’s going to walk into the girl’s bathroom when you’re making out with Paige. Not that you make out with Paige in the girl’s bathroom, because that would just be kind of insane. But hypothetically if you were making out with Paige in the girl’s bathroom, then you wouldn’t have to be scared of getting caught by a classmate. Hypothetically.

The first Friday night home game after winter break is one that you were looking forward to. You knew the Royals were playing a weaker team, so you were excited to see Paige show out, especially after getting to witness first-hand a lot of the effort she’d put into honing her skills over the break. She gave you a ride to school, forced you into her hoodie (yes, the one with her jersey number and her last name on the back and yes, you didn’t really need to be convinced, but you really liked the warmth of her hands on your skin as she helped you into it), and kissed you over the center console of her stepmom’s SUV. It was enough to short circuit your brain. You didn’t need to see her expression to know the reaction she’d elicited from you had made her incredibly smug, but you could visualize it all the same as she made her way to the locker room with her duffle bag slung over her shoulder. Paige Bueckers was going to be the death of you. That much you were sure of.

She’s pure electricity that night. You knew the game was going to be a blowout, but this was next level. If you weren’t so distracted by Paige and the way she was slicing through their defense, you would probably feel bad for the other team. She was putting up insane numbers – 15 points in the first quarter alone, six assists – but she was doing her thing on defense, too. She was clamping the offense, forcing their shots to bounce harmlessly off the rim, and late in the second quarter, she even had a clean block that ricocheted off of the offense and awarded the Royals with the ball. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her. Judging by the glances she’d shoot your way anytime they’d line up for free throws, you’re positive that she knew of your evident distraction, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be ashamed by it. Watching Paige play was a source of pride for you. She was so good at it and she works so hard everyday to show up and show out. It honestly makes you a little emotional in a good way. You’re just proud of her, of her successes. You admire her dedication and her love for the spot, the care she puts in day in and day out to be the best.

Once the game ends, you make your way out of the crowded gym and out to her mom’s SUV, starting the ignition and settling into the passenger seat. You knew that Paige would have a long line of people to greet and that she was adamant about showering before getting anywhere near you after a game. As much as you would love to see her and hang out right after, the both of you knew that you wouldn’t be able to get in a word edgewise. This arrangement, however, did have its positives. The two of you cherished the time you got to spend alone without dozens of eyes on you and you appreciated being able to speak freely. You pull out your phone, scrolling through social media as you wait for Paige.

She doesn’t keep you waiting too long. You spot her walking your direction, bag slung over her shoulder again and her hair thrown up in a loose bun. She’s illuminated by the streetlight but you know well enough by now that the glow on her face is from the sweetness of the win. You smile, your heart thrumming a kind of anticipation that only Paige has ever been able to draw from you. She opens the driver’s side door, sliding in with a happy grin, and tosses her bag into the backseat before she’s leaning over the center console with a murmured greeting, planting an easy kiss on your cheek. You don’t fight the heat on your cheeks, your smile growing bigger when her hand finds yours.

“Good game, superstar,” you tease, relishing in the bashful smile that overtakes her face.

“Thank you,” she says. She gives your hand a gentle squeeze, her eyes finding yours. “There was a pretty girl in the stands. I had to show out for her.”

“Oh?” you ask, feigning curiosity. “Where is she? Not just anyone captures the Paige Bueckers’s eye.”

Paige grins at you again, mischievous and wicked and fond all at the same time. “She’s right where she needs to be,” she retorts, which makes your smile soften into something more tender. “You’re right, though. She’s not just anyone. She’s kind, and funny, and smart, and she’s got this heart of gold. And she’s got this smile that makes you weak in the knees and she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

“Get a grip,” you say, trying to regain your dignity and trying to ignore the blush on your cheeks to the best of your ability. Judging by the way Paige’s smile turns smug, you don’t think it’s working. “You know I like you. You don’t have to woo me.”

“I do,” Paige insists, finally giving you a moment of reprieve when she puts the vehicle in drive and begins making her way out of the parking lot. Once the two of you became friendly and you started showing up to more of her games, a trip out to Dairy Queen became your post-game tradition. She’d buy the two of you a blizzard and she’d park in a quiet, empty lot while you chatted for what felt like minutes but would quickly turn into hours. You know the night’s only over when your spoon hits the bottom of your cup and Paige starts losing her filter. Now, it’s something that you look forward to. “Gotta keep you on your toes. Romance is lifelong, baby. You don’t stop once you got the girl.”

You can’t stop your sudden laughter, amused by her antics. “You got the girl?”

She shoots you an indignant look. “Don’t play. You know I got it like that. I’m all romantical and shit.”

“Total lady killer,” you deadpan. “I’m swooning.”

“You will be,” she agrees. “You make fun of me now but you keep on comin’ back. You just can’t resist Paige Buckets.”

“Maybe I just feel bad for you.” Paige huffs at this, but a smile is quirking on her face. “And nobody calls you Paige Buckets.”

“I do,” she retorts. “Which makes it real. I think therefore I am. That’s Shakespeare.”

“It’s not – you know what? Sure,” you snort, knowing full well that the two of you will sit here for hours arguing about it. “Don’t quit basketball.”

Paige smirks at you as she pulls into the Dairy Queen drive-thru. “Never,” she affirms, only looking away from you when the speaker crackles to life. Paige rattles off your orders (knowing yours by heart, which doesn’t make you feel a little soft) and pulls forward when requested. You make light small talk while you wait for your ice creams and Paige pays – as always; you’d tried once and she confiscated your card until she dropped you off at your house. Then she’s driving off in search of the parking lot you always chill at, her ice cream in the cup holder, her hands firmly on the wheel and eyes on the road. You feed her bites of yours when she stops at red lights, the sheer domesticity of it all feeling so right.

When the vehicle is safely in park, she moves the seat back a few inches, stretching out her legs as one of her playlists echoes through the speakers, a mix of The Weeknd, Brent Faiyaz, and Bryson Tiller. The energy in the car, mellowed out and calmer, still sparks with a sort of electricity that always encompasses you and Paige. Her smiles feel a little looser, more purposeful, and her eyes linger on your face when she looks at you. You talk about everything and nothing, recounting the game and Paige’s insane plays, the homework you’ve neglected to make the most of this time with her, and the date she was taking you on tomorrow night. You’re both nearing the bottoms of your cups, spoons scraping against plastic, and with a soft smile, she offers you the last bite of hers. Her thumb swipes at your bottom lip to clean a bit of ice cream that had run astray. It makes your heart beat a little faster. Paige always had this uncanny ability to make you nervous, to make all of your neurons fire at the same time. You came to the realization long ago that you were hopelessly attracted to her, but it’s times like these that remind you of just how magnetic she is.

The two of you have been here for over an hour now. A glance at the clock tells you that it’s nearing midnight. It always surprises you how easy it is to pass time with Paige. You know that it’s time for the both of you to start making your way home, but Paige doesn’t make any move to shift the car into gear, and you honestly don’t want the moment to end either. You also know that Paige is reaching the end of her sensibilities, her laughs a little brighter and delirious, her fingers restless in how they twist the ring on your thumb.

“You okay?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something that’s keeping her here, if she needs you to drive home or if there’s something else weighing on her. She meets your eyes, a tender smile on her face, her expression soft and sleepy and enamored.

“I’m perfect,” she whispers. “Can we just…sit here a little longer?” The last part is even quieter, if that was at all possible, and you nod. Her fingers tangle with yours fully. And then she starts rambling. “‘M really glad Mr. Mattson partnered us up for that project,” she admits. “It brought me to you. I’on know if I woulda had the courage to talk to you otherwise.”

You giggle, a little in disbelief. “You, nervous?” you repeat. “No way.”

Paige nods emphatically, completely serious. “Yes way. You’re…you’re beautiful, you know that? Like scary beautiful. Like make a girl get super rich during Prohibition, build a mansion, and yearn for you from afar beautiful.”

She grins at you as you roll your eyes. “You are so full of it.”

“And yet,” she murmurs, her thumb rubbing soothing circles across your knuckles, “you put up with me, anyway.” You nod, conceding, and she continues. “Point is, you kinda make me nervous. In a good way. I just… I feel like I need to impress you and do right by you. Guess what I’m tryin’ to say is you make me be the best version of myself. And I, you know, I really like doing this with you.”

You smile softly and squeeze her hand. “I like doing this with you, too,” you admit, drawing a smile from Paige.

Then, she’s shifting in her seat, angling her body towards yours, and her face is pensive, like she’s debating with herself internally. You almost ask her if she’s okay but her next words steal the very breath from your lungs. “Will you be my girlfriend?” she says, and your jaw drops slightly, unsure if you’ve even heard her correctly. Then, she’s sighing, clearing her throat and trying again. “I mean, can I be your girlfriend?” The clarification does little to calm the thumping of your heart. The words get stuck in your throat, emotions swirling through you. Excitement. Relief. Anticipation. An overwhelming amount of affection. Paige seems to mistake your stunned silence for rejection because she starts rambling again. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I had this whole thing planned out and it was supposed to be really romantic. I was gonna ask you at dinner tomorrow, like I already called the restaurant and I was gonna get you a slice of cheesecake because you hate the other kind of cake and it was gonna have the, you know, the question on it and I wrote you a letter ‘cause I can’t talk around you, and–”

You curl your fingers in the fabric of her hoodie and you pull her across the center console,  shutting her up with a kiss. She relaxes instantly, melting into your embrace as her hands find your hips, trying to minimize the space between your bodies. She breaks away, huffing because the center console is in her fucking way, and before you know it, she’s lifting you by your waist and drops you on her lap, kissing you again with a different kind of urgency that’s equal parts relief, gratitude, and so much unrestrained fondness. You wrap your arms around her neck, trying to angle your kiss so you can regain some control because her pace and intensity is honestly making you a little dizzy.

When you run out of air, you plant both of your hands on her chest, pulling away from her with considerable difficulty. You have to stop yourself from kissing her again because you know you’re not going to get another word out. You lean back, smiling when you take in the unmistakable shine in her eyes, the dopey grin on her lips. Your noses brush when you finally respond with a simple, “Yes.”

“Yeah?” she repeats, her arms looping around your waist to hold you a little closer to her body. She looks up at you, her happiness evident, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning in to plant one more lingering kiss to her mouth, humming an affirmative. “Knew you’d say yes. I’m irresistible.”

You pull away from her to laugh in disbelief. “Okay, I see how you’re forgetting the whole ‘I wrote you a letter ‘cause I can’t talk around you’ business. Which, by the way, I wanna see, but you’re so lucky you’re cute because you’re kind of a loser.”

“Loser?” she exclaims, indignant. “Nah, that’s actually crazy!”

“No! Like, you’re this badass athlete and you just dropped like 40 points–”

“43,” she cuts in.

“–40 points tonight and you’re over here nervous about asking me to be your girlfriend–”

“I wanted it to be perfect! It was gonna be perfect but you looked so pretty and I couldn’t wait!”

“Babe,” you say, laughing under your breath, your expression fond as you cup her cheeks, drawing her eyes up to yours. “It’s perfect because it’s us, okay? Us, cramped in your mom’s Honda Pilot, our half melted Dairy Queen and your freaky ass R&B.”

“S’not freaky,” she huffs, but you don’t pay her any mind.

“This was perfect,” you reiterate, your voice softening. Paige exhales under you, taking your words to heart. “Being with you is perfect. But is the cheesecake still on the table for tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Paige says, a furrow in her brow. “Just pretend to be surprised when it comes out.” You hum against her again, kissing her cheek, and she squeezes your waist a little, her voice suddenly a lot more nervous. “Uh, what does this mean for us? I mean…like our parents?”

You’re surprised by how calm you are by the question. You play with the stray hairs at the back of her neck, shrugging an unbothered shoulder. “You wanna tell them?” you ask her.

“I wanna do what you want,” she deflects.

“I want you to answer my question,” you retort.

Paige rolls her eyes, amused. “I would…like to be out. With them, at least. I’on wanna hide forever…but I know this is still kinda new for you. And we don’t have to do nothin’ serious at school, either. Seriously. Whatever you want.” Her hands are warm as they slip under your – her – hoodie, and the touch makes you feel more grounded.

“We can tell them tomorrow?” you offer, hesitant, but when Paige’s face lights up, you know you’ve made the right choice. “As for school, I think I wanna enjoy this while it’s still ours, you know? Just us. I wouldn’t mind being public eventually but I do mind the attention. I guess what I mean is we can be out but I don’t want everyone in our business.”

“Private, not a secret?” she asks, and you nod, relieved because she understands exactly what you were trying to say. “That works for me. And we can tell our parents tomorrow before we go out? Together?”

“Together,” you confirm, a smile lighting up your features.

She leans in to kiss you again, her own smile growing against your lips. Her nose brushes yours when she draws back enough to speak. “Just want you,” she promises. “Nothing else matters to me. Other people, the internet, nothing. Just lemme know how you’re feeling and we’ll handle it, okay?”

“Promise,” you swear. Paige grins at you again, drawing you in for a hug. You sit there in her arms for a while before you find your way back to the passenger seat and she drives the two of you back home.

She bids you a goodnight in the car, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before you stand on your porch to unlock the door. She doesn’t drive off until you’re safely inside. When you’re finally in your room, you don’t take the hoodie off, comforted by Paige’s scent encompassing you, and you fall asleep with an unshakable happiness in your heart and a smile on your face.

(The next day, you and Paige tell your parents, officially. You start with the Bueckers’ first and it goes as well as you were expecting. You and your girlfriend sat them down, explaining, we’re dating and we’re very happy. Moe gave the two of you comforting smiles, but Bob cleared his throat and admitted, “Uh…yeah, we saw you kiss on the Ring doorbell.” You wanted to crawl into a hole and die, to be honest, but Moe and Bob pulled the both of you into hugs and promised that as long as you and Paige were safe and happy, then they were happy for you.

Then, it was time for your family, and you were a little nervous. Granted, they had no idea that you liked girls, let alone would date one. Their reaction was basically the same as the Bueckers’, informing you that they had their suspicions since you and Paige were glued at the hip and that your little brother told them that he was pretty sure he almost saw the two of you kiss almost a month and a half ago. That was objectively worse than the Bueckers’ catching you on the ring doorbell. You were correct in assuming they’d make you keep your door open when Paige is over. And judging by the slightly horrified expression on Paige’s face when your dad finishes talking to her in private, you’re pretty sure he gave her the shovel talk of the century.

And, just so it’s absolutely clear, the date that Paige takes you on that evening is the best date you’ve ever been on – so far. She brings you flowers, pulls your chair out for you, and enchants you all night long with easy conversation. When the waitress brings out your slice of cheesecake with Will you be my girlfriend? written in strawberry puree, you sell your surprise and performance so well that the waitress brings out a second slice, chocolate flavored just for Paige. You’re sure that the night couldn’t get any better, but before she drops you off at home, she reads that damn letter to you and you can’t stop the happy tears. She kisses you goodnight, her expression adoring, and you know that you have the best girlfriend in the world.)

The rest of junior year passes in a blur. You’re the happiest you’ve been in your entire life, your grades are phenomenal, and Paige leads her team to a blowout state championship win. As if that wasn’t electrifying enough, she signed with the University of Connecticut the week after the tournament ended on April 19th. Your girlfriend was officially a Husky and would bleed blue for her college career. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmingly proud of her – playing for UConn has been her life goal, hoping to cement her name as one of the greats next to Sue Bird, Diana Taurasi, Maya Moore. While you couldn’t get into UConn with as much ease as she did, UConn would be the first school you submitted your application for once October rolled around. You weren’t sure who was more excited – you or Paige – at the prospect of going to college together, but what you did know was that you couldn’t wait to cheer her on as she took the world by storm.

With the harder parts of the school year long gone, the time for prom came around in late April. Paige secured your tickets as soon as they went on sale and was dead set on making it the best night of your life. She prom-posed to you with what was possibly the cheesiest sign in the world: it was decorated with lopsided basketballs (although you appreciated the fact that Paige made her sign completely homemade) and read ‘Together, we’re a slam dunk. Take a shot at prom with me?’ and there was no way in hell you’d ever say no to something like that. It took you less than four hours to find the perfect dress, although you spent a week with Paige travelling from mall to boutique to find the perfect thing for her to wear. Dress shopping with Paige proved to be a difficult task, especially for someone who seemed to hate dresses as much as she did. When you suggested she just wear a pair of jeans and a nice shirt, she nearly lost her mind in the middle of the store.

“What kind of date wears jeans and a shirt to prom?” she’d exclaimed, rifling through the dress racks, beginning to ramble. “No, ‘cause that actually pisses me off. Like, you see all these girls walkin’ around in these pretty dresses, make up done to the nines, and their boyfriends can’t even be bothered to iron their shirts?”

“I want you to be comfortable,” you said to her. “What you’re wearing won’t matter to me. You know that.”

She huffed, pulling a black dress off the rack and holding it to her torso, glancing in the mirror with a pensive expression. “It matters to me. I can’t be caught dead next to you lookin’ like an idiot.”

“Well…” you trailed off, much to her chagrin, and she pouted at you dramatically as you laughed. “Get that one,” you advised. “It won’t be super tight on you so you’ll have some breathing room. And I like the way your arms will look in it.” When she tried it on, you walked in on her in the dressing room flexing in the mirror, and, well, you were right.

With the dress debacle out of the way, that meant you had to consider other factors, like your matching corsages and dinner beforehand. Those were slightly less intimidating decisions to make. Paige knew next to nothing about flowers and her only demand was “they have to look nice,” so you found the corsages. You weren’t paying for dinner and Paige knew your likes and dislikes like the back of her hand, so she handled the reservations and promised she wouldn’t dirty Moe’s SUV if the two of you could borrow it for the night. All that was left was prom itself and considering it would be your first and you don’t get another junior prom, you were incredibly excited for it.

Dinner was nice – it would have been hard to fuck up since Paige chose a restaurant she knew you liked and it was hard to not enjoy your time with her anyhow. She serenaded you as she drove, belting Keyshia Cole’s Love like she was a contestant on The Voice. And, sure, it was incredibly off-key and her voice cracked during the vocal flips on “I found,” but you couldn’t help your endearment for her. Making you laugh was one of the things she was a master at. You arrived at the school in good spirits, turned in your tickets without an issue, and entered the gym with high hopes.

The music is thumping, echoing throughout the gym. You can feel the bass in the floor and your body almost immediately vibrates from the noise. Paige curses lightly under her breath, her hand finding yours with a wince, and she glances at you curiously, a simple you okay? visible in her eyes. You nod and she leads you over to the drink table where she gives the two-liter soda bottle a cursory sniff before pouring it in a red solo cup for you. You remember hearing that last year’s prom got cancelled early because someone spiked the punch bowl, which is why they shifted to pouring directly from plastic bottles, but you could never be too sure and you appreciated Paige for her protectiveness.

As you drink, you take in the decorations. The student council was tasked with setting everything up – deciding on the theme, ordering the decorations, putting them up. As you glance around the packed gym, your eyes taking in the streamers and the lights (you pretend that you don’t notice a section of lights that have already been ripped down), you determine that you really can’t tell what the prom theme is supposed to be. A girl and her date pass by you in a 20s flapper dress and a wrinkled button up with Timbs, of all shoes; then you’re passed by a girl wearing polka dots and her date in a graphic t-shirt. You’re getting a lot of mixed signals right now.

“Wanna dance?” Paige asks you and you nod, throwing your cup away, allowing your girlfriend to lead you to an emptier section of the gym. For a while, you’re not really sure what’s playing until the bass drop is over and you realize it’s some remixed version of Zedd’s Clarity. You glance around, watching people dance. There’s a group of students towards the front of the gym near the DJ stand jumping up and down like it’s a mosh pit. There’s another section of people bobbing their heads and moving stiffly. To your right, there’s a group swaying, their phones raised as they capture the moment.

“This is not what I thought prom would be,” you comment off-handedly to Paige, who’s halfheartedly shimmying. 

She shrugs a shoulder, reaching out for your hands with a smile and pulling you closer to her, making sure to leave room for Jesus, as she’d once joked. “We can make our own fun,” she yells over the thump of the music. She drags you into an awkward, uncoordinated and off-rhythm shimmy-dance-shake thing, but her smile is infectious enough that you’re throwing all caution to the wind as you allow her to lead you. You laugh along with her for the remainder of the song before you’re joined by a few of her teammates and their dates. Paige introduces you and together, the small group of you dance to a few more songs. You take a few group photos in varying poses, then find some snacks, and you burn another half hour dancing before the pain in your feet gets to be too much and the music starts giving you a headache.

You don’t want to be a buzzkill, but you have to admit that prom is a weird mix of overwhelming and lackluster. It’s a lot better with friends, though; the short period of time you spent with Paige’s teammates was invigorating but there’s just not a lot to do that’s not eating, dancing, taking photos, or watching people try to dance. You intertwine your fingers with Paige’s, drawing her attention and whispering in her ear about needing air. She nods, leading you towards the door and snagging another drink for you on the way out. The cool breeze and the peace does wonders for you.

“I’on wanna ruin your night,” Paige begins, a little sheepish, “but was this kinda…”

“Lame?” you supply, watching the relief spread across Paige’s face.

“Yeah,” she agrees. You offer her a sip of the soda and she takes it gratefully, holding onto the cup for you as you toe off your heels, lowering yourself to the sidewalk and taking a seat. You stretch out your legs, sighing when the pressure in your feet is alleviated. “Wanna get Dairy Queen after this?”

You groan, leaning your head onto hers as she wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Like you even have to ask,” you murmur, appreciative of the peace. Paige chuckles, her thumb rubbing against your shoulder. The two of you sit there for a while soaking it all in before the music inside dies down. You can hear the echo of the DJ as he tells everyone to partner up for the slow dance. Paige sets your cup on the ground, removing her arm and standing up. You glance at her as she extends her hand for you to take.

“May I have this dance?” she asks, and you laugh, unable to say no. You allow her to pull you to your feet as the opening notes of Taylor Swift’s Crazier bleed through the gym walls. She navigates you both to the grass, your feet bare against the cool ground, and she wraps her arms around your waist as yours go around her neck.

I'd never gone with the wind, just let it flow

Let it take me where it wants to go

The two of you sway, the sound of chirping crickets serving as the perfect background to the gentle hum of the music through the walls. Her hands are warm on your side, her chin pressed to the top of your head, your face cradled gently against her chest. If you were being honest, this is probably the most content you’ve been since dinner – being alone with Paige has a way of cheering you up.

I was trying to fly, but I couldn't find wings

But you came along and you changed everything

Paige starts humming the lyrics, the vibrations of her voice soothing you as you follow her lead. Your fingers smooth some of the flyaway strands at the back of her neck, hands mapping the expanse of her toned shoulders, content to just feel her and relish in this tender, unexpecting intimacy.

You lift my feet off the ground

You spin me around

You make me crazier, crazier

It’s then that you’re hit with a gentle realization, the lyrics resonating with you. You and Paige have been together for close to four months at this point, although it feels closer to five months since you admitted your feelings to her back in late December. Every day since then has been full of nothing but pure enjoyment, a whole lot of care, and some of the best times of your life. Paige has this way of always making you smile, even when the day gets hard, this way of making you feel so appreciated and cared for. You’re young and you really weren’t expecting her to come into your life the way she did, but you really can’t deny this overflow of emotion that you feel when she’s around. You know exactly why you feel this way.

You lift your head off her chest, your hands resting on the tops of her shoulders as you pull back far enough to look her in the eye. She gazes at you curiously, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your hips, and you can’t help your smile as you kiss her tenderly. She responds, pulling you flush against her, and you know that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

“What was that for?” she whispers, an enamored little grin on her face, cheeks bright with a blush.

You don’t hesitate. “I just love you,” you confess.

You expect her to freeze up. You expect her jaw to go slack, to ask you to repeat what you said. Love wasn’t something you should just drop so casually – the both of you knew that. But Paige’s smile only grows, a lone dimple popping out as her eyes shine under the streetlight. She cups your cheeks in her hands and leans down to kiss you again. It’s soft, barely-there brushes that you can still feel in your heart; her lips ask you a simple question that you can’t help but answer. You lean into it, into the love that has built between the two of you over the months you’ve been together and the months you’ll be together in the future, into the shared promise of I’m yours.

“I love you,” Paige whispers, punctuating her words with a squeeze. “So much.”

You smile against her lips, letting her pull you back in. The music fades into nothing, your focus entirely on Paige, on the way her lips move against yours, the way her hands cradle your face, the way she loves you. You’ve given your heart over to her completely and she cherishes it like it’s her own. Sometimes, there are things you’re just born knowing, and right now, you know that everything in your life has led you to being here now, to being Paige’s. You couldn’t think of anything better than that.

SENIOR YEAR – 2019-2020

Senior year is the beginning of the end.

You and Paige spend summer break attached at the hip, but not overbearingly so. You’d gotten a part-time job mostly to make some extra money and to make your resume look a little better, so you were occupied by that four days a week. Paige, on the other hand, was spending extra time in the gym and running drills with private trainers and coaches. She was committed to one of the best colleges in the country for basketball – summer was not the time to be slacking off. It was the time for her to get better, stronger, faster; if you wanted to celebrate with the best, you had to be the best, and Paige turned that pressure into motivation.

Above all else, you still made time for each other, even when she was exhausted from practicing and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die because food service sucks (seriously, you were a cashier – what makes people think you of all people fucked up their food? Your job was to hit buttons and ask if they wanted fries with that). At the heart of it, you and Paige were each other’s remedies. You were a source of peace, comfort, and relaxation. Honestly, much of the time the two of you shared over the summer was spent napping, but you weren’t going to complain. You were busy and she was busy and you’d take whatever you could get, even if that meant being the big spoon every other night.

Things weren’t harder by any means. They weren’t any easier, but they were just different. You had to get used to managing your time, learn how to effectively maintain a relationship when the only time you really get to see each other is once or twice a week (and when Paige is snoring for most of it). You’d argue that this is just making the two of you stronger. The two of you would only be busier in college. Now is the time for growing up and realizing that you couldn’t reasonably spend every waking moment together, as much as you would like to. You were fine, Paige was fine, the two of you communicated, and you were very happy.

Well, there was one slight issue.

Following Paige’s commitment, your Instagram messages and comments had been blowing up. It started small. There were joking comments (or so you’d hoped) with messages of ‘You better not distract Paige next season!’ and their variations. It all ramped up from there. Trolls accusing you of only dating Paige because she’d become a millionaire once she’s in college, accusing you of keeping her out of the gym. Someone even said that UConn wouldn’t win a national championship anytime soon considering their starting point guard would be too busy playing the part of a doting girlfriend.

You won’t lie. All of the comments and the messages were really heavy. Here you were, barely 18 and you had crazy fans of varying age levels all in your business and saying awful things. There were comments you wouldn’t even dream of repeating. You talked to Paige about it and she’d held you as you cried. It was less of the content, but it was more about the spam and the constant onslaught and the amount of people tearing you down for no good reason. Paige posted on her socials requesting for people to leave you alone. While there was an outcry of support from the kinder folk, you’d somehow gotten even more harassment in your messages. You eventually caved and privated all of your accounts, scrubbing the nasty comments and trying to go about your life.

The damage had already been done.

Senior year was supposed to be your best year thus far, yet everything was bleak. It was nowhere close to the academic rigor of your junior year, but you were taking a few more dual enrollment classes and a lone AP, which means you were spending a lot more of your time studying so your grades wouldn’t slip. You ended up having to drop one of your clubs, too. You were less upset about that one considering it wasn’t doing a lot for you anyways. The fact that everything started piling up and you had to make all of these ultimatums was weighing on you.

Paige was incredibly busy, too. Coming off of a championship win from the year before, her coach was determined to get them back there again this year. Practices were longer, more grueling, and as if those weren’t enough, Paige was spending more time in the gym alone to get shots in and run drills, like she had something to prove. Maybe she did. She needed to show that she wasn’t an overrated high school player, that Geno Auriemma didn’t make a mistake in recruiting her. She needed to prove that she has what it takes to go from a high school championship contending team to a collegiate championship contending team. Combined with her own classwork, she was running out of time to devote to you, so the two of you were honestly just stuck.

The time you did get to spend with one another never felt like it was enough. You tried your best to fit in dates that had nothing to do with school or basketball, just the two of you. You loved each other. You would go through worse things than this, and you were dedicated to making it work, damn it. You communicated – or tried to, at least. You could tell Paige was under a lot of pressure, you knew her well enough by now. Anytime you brought it up, she’d always say that she’s just tired or that she needs to lock in because the pressure is only going to increase when she’s in college. You tried to help, but you just didn’t know how, and you were terrified of pushing her too far. She didn’t need you to be this clingy, obsessed girlfriend who can’t function without her, and maybe you were worried about becoming too much, too. It’s just a hard pill to swallow when you go from being all over each other in junior year to whatever the fuck this is now. You have to remind yourself that you and Paige need the space to be your own people. You’re changing, she’s changing, and you can’t hold onto a past version of her – if you force her to be something she’s not, you’ll just lose her, and that’s not something you can stomach. So you take her word for it, letting her be her own person, even if it feels like you’re still losing a battle you could never have won in the first place.

Growing up is hard, isn’t it? 

And it’s weird – because it’s not like everything is bad. There’s a lot of good times, too. Paige still drives you home after her games, making sure to stop at Dairy Queen, making sure to fit in some time at that parking lot just to chat with you. Sometimes it gets a little heavy when she’s a few hours past delirious and her kisses become a little more insistent, sloppier against your skin and you both have to remember to chill out because your first time is not about to be in the backseat of her stepmom’s Honda Pilot. She still smiles at you like you’re her everything, because you are. It’s hard, but she moves mountains to make time for you, even if that just means spending the night at your house and in your arms and you do nothing but sleep because you’re both just exhausted from life.

You still wear her hoodie, the one with her number and her name on the back and the one that’s starting to smell like the perfect blend of the two of you. You leave your clothes at her house and she leaves hers at yours. You and Paige integrate so seamlessly into each other’s lives that the slow-forming rift between the two of you is unexpected when it eventually cracks, sending the two of you tumbling into a bottomless chasm. Somehow, you miss it entirely — the fractures, the shifting of tectonic plates. Maybe the hard truth is you don’t miss it at all, but you ignore it in hopes that you can patch up the lacerations. 

But that rift doesn’t actualize for another few months, for for now — you’re fine. Unknowing of what’s ahead of you, too busy and too in love to focus on anything but the present. 

The holidays are a much needed reprieve. Thanksgiving and Christmas back to back means your classwork finally lessens and Paige isn’t spending every waking moment in the gym. That doesn’t mean that she didn’t try to spend every waking moment in the gym, though. On the very first day of Thanksgiving break, you could feel her shifting around in your bed at an hour that was definitely not appropriate. She was apologetic for waking you up and said that she just wanted to get some shots in before the local rec teams took over the courts. You weren’t having any of it. Half-asleep, you’d dragged her back into bed with you, climbing on top of her and resting your head on her chest, murmuring nonsense about missing her. The details are fuzzy, but you do remember waking up some hours later after the sun finally rose and Paige was still in bed with you, her arms wrapped tight around your waist.

Spending so much uninterrupted time over break reminded you why you fell in love with Paige in the first place. It wasn’t like you were starved of reminders while you were both in school – she texted you good morning (although this was anywhere from 5-6am) and she texted you good night (anywhere from 12-1am); the knowledge that you were the first and the last thing on her mind made your heart race. She walked you to and from your classes, carried your bag for you, but it was that time outside of school that you were truly missing with her.

When you brush your teeth together in the morning, she flicks water at you teasingly and wipes the foam off your lip when you miss a spot. She’ll sit atop the counter and watch as you do your skincare or your makeup with an enamored look on her face. Most days, she allows you to do her mascara or apply some new skin cream on her face, although the latter usually ends with Paige whining about how it burns and you reminding her that just means it’s working. You spend time with each other’s family, you go on dates, open presents at each other’s house, and a few days after Christmas, she takes you back to the park where you’d shared your first kiss. It’s not your one year anniversary since Paige was, ugh, a gentlewoman and “courted” you (well, as well as high schoolers can “court”) prior to making it official, but it’s close enough for you. The realization that you’ve shared your life with Paige for a year fills you with an indescribable emotion and all you really know is you can’t wait to share more and more years with her.

After New Year’s, everything shifts again. You get busy with school and Paige locks back in for basketball. Her team has been undefeated the entire year and they’re on the right track to make it back to the championship, which seems to ignite a fire under her. She spends her time in the gym, practicing and practicing and practicing. You can tell it’s wearing on her. Her texts become sparse and you often find yourself making your way to the gym at night just so you can drive her home. When you ask why she’s burning herself out like this, her response is always a variation of I need to be better or We’re so close – I can’t let the team down but you know her. You know she’s not telling you the complete truth and that kills you.

What had you done so wrong that Paige doesn’t trust you with her feelings anymore? What had you done so wrong that you’ve forced her into locking herself in the gym until her fingers bleed and her feet blister? Perhaps if you were a little more online, you’d understand why. Between the trolls and your mass amounts of homework, you hardly had the time for Instagram. You don’t see the comments under Paige’s posts, claiming you’d just be a distraction in college. You don’t see the comments arguing that Paige’s uncharacteristic performance in a recent game is your fault.

It’s in mid-February that you grow tired of the overthinking and the ache that’s made its home in your chest. It’s nearing midnight but you can’t sleep. You’ve been staring at Paige’s location on the Find My map for nearly four hours now – she’s been on the court ever since practice ended. You tried to give her space. You didn’t want to be overbearing. You know that she’s under pressure but God you just wanted her to confide in you, to feel more like a girlfriend rather than an afterthought. So, you slide on a pair of shoes, tucking your keys into your pocket and you begin the quick walk to the park.

You hear the rhythmic bouncing of the ball before you see Paige. You hear the dribble, the swish of the net, the clang of the rim. The basketball rolls towards you and you pick it up, coming face to face with Paige, whose face is a picture of surprise.

“Hey,” she says softly. You pause to take in her appearance. She’s dressed in a pair of athletic shoes, ball shorts and a loose tank top. She’s soaked in sweat, her hair sticking to her forehead and her eyes a wild mix of exhaustion and pure determination. Your heart constricts in your chest. Why is she doing this to herself? “What are you doing here?”

“It’s late,” you say, quirking an unamused smile. “Almost midnight. Couldn’t really sleep without knowing if my girlfriend was alive or not.”

She stares at you like she’s trying to read your expression. A slow wave of realization rolls over her and she sucks in a deep breath, knowing she’s in trouble. “I’m okay,” she says but you know she’s not. “Just–”

“‘Just trying to get some shots up,’” you interrupt. “‘Just wanna be prepared for the championship.’” Paige’s jaw ticks and she runs a frustrated hand across her jaw. You soften a little, knowing that you’re not the only one with shit going on. That consideration would get you in trouble one day, but you don’t really care right now. “Can we talk? Please?”

“I need to–”

“Paige,” you breathe out, your voice firm despite the way it cracks. You feel the tears prick at your eyes and you can’t help but feel frustrated at yourself for getting emotional. “Please stop running away from me,” you beg.

She looks like she’s about to argue again, although she thinks better of it, nodding her head and taking a seat on the bench where her bag rests. You sit next to hear, placing the basketball on the other side of you. Paige is silent, her hands folded together and her brows drawn in. You speak first. “I’m worried about you.” That draws her attention, confusion and guilt and hurt lining her expression, but you swallow, continuing. “I hardly see you outside of school and you spend every waking moment with a ball in your hand. I know you think that you need to work harder or train harder, but it’s killing you, Paige. You say you’re fine and I wanna believe that but we’ve been dating for a year now. I know you better than that. This is wearing you down and I just don’t understand why you can’t be honest with me about why you’re doing this to yourself.”

The distant chirp of the crickets is all you can hear. Then, she heaves a shuddering sigh. “I’m not good enough for this,” she confesses in a murmur. “That’s what everyone says. I’m overrated. That Coach Auriemma shoulda recruited someone else – someone better, faster, stronger, taller. Basketball is my future but lately it just feels like that’s another thing I have to prove to people who watch me from behind a screen. There’s so many people relying on me, watching me, investing in me and I can’t – I can’t let them down. I can’t lose. I am so fucking afraid of losing that I forget how to win.”

“Paige,” you whisper, your hand reaching out to hold hers. She intertwines your fingers so tightly that it hurts your hand. You don’t care. “You are so much more than what people have to say about you, okay? Isn’t that what you told me?”

She huffs, something akin to amusement, but there’s no enjoyment in her expression. “You didn’t sign up for that,” she retorts. “They were hurting you ‘cause of me.”

“No one signs up to be an online punching bag,” you state. “Least of all you. You don’t deserve that.” She shakes her head, disbelieving. You lean into her, trying to ground her, and she shivers against you. “You know it’s not true, right? There is no one better, or stronger, or faster than you. Maybe taller, but I love you the way you are.” That’s enough to draw a real laugh from her and you squeeze her hand. “Listen to me. Geno didn’t recruit you because of your strength or your speed or whatever else. Geno recruited you because he knew you had the heart of a Husky and because he knew you had what it takes. And – I know it’s hard, but sometimes you’re going to lose. What’s important is picking yourself up afterward and doing it all over again. Win or lose, you’re always gonna have me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, you know that?”

“I do,” she murmurs. “And I’d do the same for you.” Her words sound more like a grave realization more than a reassurance, but you don’t catch it. You don’t notice the solemn look on her face, the way she looks like she’s coming to terms with something difficult. You don’t notice the determination that reads something like I’m going to win another state championship this year and prove everyone wrong.

“Come home?” you plead. Paige nods slowly, collecting her gear almost robotically, but she presses a kiss to your lips and all you feel an overwhelming amount of relief. Everything will be okay, you tell yourself. This was just a small bump in the road.

Wishful thinking.

Paige’s state championship gets cancelled due to a global pandemic.

She’d been in such high spirits, excited at the prospect of competing, of taking home the trophy one more time before she went off for college. In March, everything shut down. You were out of school for what you believed to be an extended spring break, but the rest of the year was cancelled entirely. The state championship game was quick to follow. You weren’t expecting Paige to take the news as bad as she did.

Your texts go unanswered, again. You know she’s stuck in her house, which was always a recipe for disaster for her. Paige gets too restless, too impatient, always itching to be moving. You let a day go by of radio silence. Two days. By the third, you’re beginning to lose your mind. You simply weren’t built for online education and your little brother makes focusing impossible. On the fourth day, you send another message to Paige, which ultimately gets left on read.

You show up to her house, tired of being iced out like this, of being treated like you’re something disposable when Paige is upset. Bob lets you in, grinning, and you wave at Drew as you walk upstairs, your footsteps echoing like your heartbeat in your ribcage. You knock on Paige’s door, not getting a response, but you walk in anyways.

Her room is a mess. Clothes are strewn about, one of her comforters lying on the ground. You nearly trip over a loose basketball but your eyes lock on her – lying in bed with an almost catatonic expression on her face. Maybe the aftermath is your fault. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Paige wasn’t in the best headspace. While you were her girlfriend, showing up to her room invited while she’s spiraling would make her meltdown make sense. The ensuing argument is a blur.

Paige is frantic, her hands gesturing wildly as she chokes back sobs, exclaiming confessions of “I’m nothing without that championship,” or “I can’t handle this anymore.” It’s the first time you’ve actually been a little fearful – not of her, but for her. You knew the pressure was getting to her and you just let her deal with it instead of intervening. You were too scared to upset her and now the both of you are paying the price of your insecurity.

You tried to comfort her, but it was like something shifted. She told you to go home. That you were too much right now and that it’s obvious at this point that you’re only going to get hurt if you stay with me. You were willing to ignore her words even if they were like knives to your heart, but what truly destroyed was how she flinched away from your touch like it was burning oil. Go home, she’d said again. I don’t need you here. I can’t keep hurting you like this.

Maybe showing up in the first place was a mistake, but so was leaving her. You walked back to your house with tears in your eyes, wondering how you fucked up so bad.

The next day, Paige shows up at your doorstep with flowers. You couldn’t ignore the hurt in your heart and you didn’t want to forgive her so easily, but it was hard to stay upset with her. No matter how mad you were, you were still in love with her. She apologized, describing how the championship cancellation and the lockdown and the pressure was making her go insane. She acknowledged those wrongs didn’t make a right and she’d spend the rest of her life making it up to you. You didn’t want to fight, or argue, or hurt anymore, so you wrapped her in your arms as the both of you cried. You had a lengthy conversation full of more apologies, and foolishly, you’d thought the worst of it was over. It wouldn’t come until much later.

Miraculously, you still have graduation that month although everyone has to wear masks and you have to sit five feet apart on the football field. You and Paige graduate with honors, you take photos, and your combined families have a huge dinner at the Bueckers’s household. That evening, right before you say grace, your phone lights up with an email from the UConn admissions team.

You got in.

As your families cheer, your eyes are too full of tears to notice the expression of pure dread on Paige's face as you throw your arms around her neck. It feels like everything is finally going your way. You and Paige would be going to college together. It would be easier – it has to be. You didn’t really care about what anyone had to say about the two of you. You had Paige and that was enough for you.

You go to bed that night blissfully and ignorantly happy. Two weeks pass and that’s finally when the worst happens.

You feel your phone’s vibration before you hear its ringtone.

Groggily, you open your eyes, hands blindly fumbling through your sheets and under your pillow as you try to locate your device. At first, you think it’s your alarm waking you up for class, but remembering the fact that you’ve just graduated two weeks ago hits you like a sack of bricks. There will be no more morning alarms, not until you’re in Storrs, Connecticut and starting the fall semester. You also realize it’s far too dark outside to be morning, so the ringing of your phone can only mean one thing.

“Hello?” you answer without looking at the caller ID, knowing that it was Paige on the other end. You couldn’t think of anyone who would call you at 1:55 in the morning. The fact that Paige is calling you at 1:55 in the morning, however, is a cause for concern. She had an early flight around 8am – summer practices and conditioning were already starting up for the Huskies, as well as other freshman athlete orientations.

“Hey,” Paige says. Her voice is quiet on the other end of the line, tight and weak like she’s fighting to stay composed. Immediately, your heartbeat picks up, fearing for the worst. “I’m at your front door. Can I – can you come down please? I need to talk to you.”

“I’m on my way,” you respond, already throwing your blanket off of your legs and leaving your room. “Are you okay?”

Paige is oddly silent for a few beats. Your socked feet thump lightly against the stairs as you make your way down, your pulse racing like you’d just ran a marathon. Her name falls from your lips in a murmur and she heaves a shuddering sigh from the other end of the phone. “Please,” she begs, “just come outside.”

“Okay,” you promise, and the line goes dead as you unlock your front door, opening it to reveal Paige standing on your front porch. She’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and crocs like she’d made the last minute decision to show up to your house. Her shirt is rumpled, the UConn logo emblazoned on it – one she’d gotten from her official visit however long ago. Her hair is disheveled, too, pulled up into a loose ponytail with loose strands at the front. And her face. You’ve never seen Paige look so miserable before, but what truly shocks you is the guilt clouding her eyes, the frown on her lips. “Hey.” Your voice is quiet, opening the door wide enough for her to come in. Paige merely shakes her head, her hand finding your wrist as she guides you onto the front porch. The door clicks shut behind the two of you. “What’s going on?”

Under the porchlight, her features come into focus. Her expression is downcast, eyes red as if she’d been crying, shoulders high and tense with some monumental weight bearing down on them. You know she has a lot going on – the two of you have talked about as much. She was the number one high school recruit and she’s been committed to one of, if not the best college for women’s basketball. There’s a lot of pressure on her to live up to those expectations, to be the best in the game. You also know Paige hasn’t been the same since the beginning of the year, but she’d assured you that it was just exhaustion and the need to lock in. When you come face to face with her, you’re wracked with a near insurmountable quantity of guilt – why hadn’t you tried harder to get her to open up?

“I’m sorry,” is what Paige says. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your mind conjures up thousands of reasons why Paige could be apologizing to you at two in the fucking morning. “I know this timing is super fucked up and this is such a shitty thing to do to but I can’t get on that plane later and not –” Paige’s words trail off, the sound getting stuck in her throat.

You blink, feeling the unmistakable burn of tears in your eyes, the tightness in your chest. Part of you knows exactly where this is going, but the other part of you refuses to consider it. “Not what, Paige?”

Her hands fidget nervously with the hem of her shirt. She throws her head back, suddenly finding the roof of your porch very interesting as she takes a deep breath. “I don’t –” her voice cracks before finally, she meets your eyes, guilt and dread and something that looks strangely like atonement filling her irises. “I don’t think we’re gonna work out,” she says. Your heart all but drops out of your ass and onto the ground, but she keeps rambling in that Paige-esque way that you’ve spent months falling in love with. “We’re not gonna work out in college. I have basketball, and you – you have so many great things ahead of you. You have dreams and aspirations and I can’t…I can’t let you lose sight of those if you stay with me. I love you, so much, but we’re just gonna keep hurting each other if we keep trying to mend something that’s just gonna keep on breaking.”

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Something ugly twists in your gut, something that feels like a painful mix of despair, desperation, and a deep-rooted anger you’d never realized you’d been harboring. You weren’t an angry person. Sensitive, sure. You were understanding and kind. Never angry. “Why do you get to decide that?” you manage, your voice rough with emotion. Your voice rises in pitch as you continue. “Why do you get to decide that we can’t be fixed? What–”

“We’ve been tryin’ to fix this for months,” Paige points out hoarsely, her throat bobbing as she swallows.

“Because you’re not trying!” you exclaim, arms flying out. Paige flinches, but you don’t stop. “You just – you keep pulling away from me and I don’t know why but I can’t do this on my own, Paige. And when I ask you always say you’re just tired or you’re just busy but I know you. I know you and I know that you weren’t giving us your all and I still trusted you because fuck, I just wanted you! I would never make you choose between me or basketball but I’d like to at least be considered once in a while.”

“It’s not like that,” Paige argues. “I’ve done nothing but consider you–”

“Bullshit.”

Her face falls. “See?” she murmurs, laughing a little despite the hurt in her expression. “We’d never work out in college. We can’t even do this right.”

You seethe. “Because you’re trying to break up with me when we can fix this.”

“I’m trying to break up with you because I can’t fucking protect you!” Paige cries. Her words hit you like a truck and you clamp your mouth shut as she wipes her eyes. “Is that what you wanted to hear? I can’t protect you when we’re both at UConn. Do you even know what they’re saying online? They’re saying I can’t hoop because I’m too busy playing house with my girlfriend. They’re saying that her girlfriend is trying to leech off of her success, that you’re ruining my life, that my girlfriend needs to leave me alone. Everyday I’ve worked harder to get stronger, faster, better, just so there wouldn’t be anything about me they could use to hurt you but they always find something to say. I can’t protect you from that when you’re with me. I can’t let them ruin your life because you love me. You have so much ahead of you and they’ll tear you down. I can’t bear that.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” you say, but even you know that’s a lie. You take in the look on Paige’s face, the commiseration, the resolution. Your anger melts away into sheer desperation when you begin to fully realize the gravity of your situation. It feels like your entire life is slipping from your fingertips and you’re running out of time to do something about it. “Paige…” You hate the way she flinches at her name.

“Please,” she begs again. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Just let me do this for us and we can both try to be happy.”

You don’t mention how there won’t be an us if you let her walk away now, but you do step forward, your fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt as you plead, “Don’t do this to us.” A tear slips down your cheek and Paige shudders as she wipes it away with the pad of her thumb, an inexplicable amount of guilt in her eyes. “We can fix this, okay? I swear. I promise you won’t even know I’m there. I won’t say anything and I’ll watch your games online – whatever it takes, I’ll do it, Paige; just don’t fucking do this to us.”

She murmurs your name, her face falling as she brushes your hair out of your face, but you’re shaking your head, pressing on. “Just give us some time. Please. We can work this out. I don’t want anything but you. And…and – last year, you said nothing else mattered, right? What everyone else thought, what the media thought. We can be private again, whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” she whispers, voice broken. “You don’t deserve to be hidden away. I can’t do that to you. It’ll kill us before we even got a chance otherwise.”

Your lip wobbles as you say, “You’re killing us now, Paige.”

She nods, a tear of her own falling, and she wipes it away before you can even raise your hand. “I know. But at least it’s on our terms and not theirs.” You shake your head, fingers tightening in her shirt, and Paige crumbles. She wraps her arms around your shoulders, pulling her into your chest as your body heaves with sobs, your tears soaking her shirt. You can hear the tremble in her voice as she fights for her composure. “I’m sorry. Being with me will just hurt you more. I can’t put you through that,” she chokes out. “I’m sorry that I made you feel like you were the only one trying. I thought it would change things but it didn’t. I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t save us.”

The irony makes you ache – Paige killing you just to save you. Deep down, you know she’s right. Your social media have been private for months now, but there’s nothing you wouldn’t do just so you could keep Paige. But right now? All you’re truly able to process is the heartbreak, the way the criss-crossing bandages fall off, the way the stitches and the sutures come undone, revealing a festering, open wound that after all this time, you’ve never been able to repair. No matter what, it always comes back to this – your heart on the ground, stomped out and bleeding and ruined. You just never thought Paige would be the one to crush it under her heel.

You’re tender-hearted. You always have been.  That’s why your friends told you to stay far, far away from Paige. You tried, you honestly did – but Paige is magnetic, and she loves you, and you were just a little too weak to say no. Now you’re faced with the ugly realization that maybe you should have listened, that when they told you ‘She’s leaving Minnesota and she’s not going to look back’, they were right. Despite it all, you’re naive enough to say that you’d go through with it all over again. You love Paige. You would give up a lot of things in the world if only you could keep her, but her decision is made and it’s time for you to make yours.

That’s why you forgive her. You sniffle, trying your best to compose yourself as her hand rubs soothing, apologetic circles on your back. “It’s okay,” you manage, your voice impossibly soft and broken down.

“It’s not,” Paige murmurs, her voice cracking.

“It will have to be.” You feel her nod at that, her arms tightening a little, like she’s trying to savor this last moment with you before it’s gone forever. You do, too, pressing your head against her chest, listening to the rhythmic thump of her heart that you’ve spent hours memorizing the cadence of. You’ve spent so many months of your life learning everything there was to know about Paige Bueckers – her favorite color, her dreams, the parts of her that she keeps hidden. You wish you didn’t know what she looked like when she was walking away but you should have known that you and her were doomed by time from the very beginning.

You don’t want to let her go. Eventually, you have to, and looking at her face makes you want to cry and beg all over again. Her hands find your cheeks as she kisses you one last time. You can taste the salt on her lips, hear her shuddering breath, feel her forehead as it presses against yours gently. You know this kiss is more of a goodbye than it is a gesture of affection. That’s enough to make the ache in your chest return tenfold.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again. It doesn’t do anything to fix what’s broken. “I’m so sorry. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you promise. You hate those words because you know they’re true – Paige has just broken your heart on your front doorstep and despite it all, you still love her and you always will.

She releases you, her hands trailing down your arms, trying to commit you to memory. Then, her hands leave your skin entirely and she takes a step back. “Guess this is goodbye.”

You bury your hands in your pockets, knowing that if you don’t do something with them, you’ll try fighting for her again. “Guess it is.”

She stares at you for a long while before nodding, her final goodbye a soft murmur under her breath. You watch her go as she walks down the sidewalk, her figure illuminated by the streetlights. It feels strangely like reaching for a light, something you’ll never be able to physically grasp. It’s like watching your entire future crumble in the blink of an eye, like reminding yourself that some dreams are too costly and that sometimes, desire is impossible. Right person, wrong time.

Your lip trembles as you walk back inside, locking the door behind you. When you turn to head back upstairs and go back to bed, hoping that this is all some kind of fucked up fever dream, you find your mother waiting for you, worry etched on her face. That’s when you crumble again, sagging into her confused arms and sobbing.

“She’s gone,” you manage to get out in between heaving sobs. Your mom understands instantly, hushing you and smoothing out your hair, rocking you back and forth as you cry. You’ve hurt a lot, but never like this. You want this terrible feeling to go away but you know this is a loss that’s going to stick with you for a while.

Later that night, when you’re sure you’ve cried all you could, you lie in bed bundled in Paige’s hoodie despite the heat. On the UConn application portal, you only hesitate a little bit before you click on the Cancel Enrollment button. Then, you navigate over to the University of Minnesota application portal, hesitating a lot longer before clicking on the Confirm Enrollment button. You power your phone off entirely, unwilling to spend the night staring at the picture of you and Paige on your home screen. All you feel is a devastating emptiness and this time, you’re fully on your own now and there’s no one else to help you pick up the pieces.

FRESHMAN & SOPHOMORE YEAR – 2020-2022

To no one’s surprise, you absolutely hate the University of Minnesota. There were a lot of reasons why it wasn’t your first choice. The program it offered for your degree wasn’t the greatest. You hated the dorms. You hated campus life, too. UConn had a lot of things that UMN didn’t. A better sports scene, better programs, your ex-girlfriend who you’re still hung up on, everything. You knew you’d be just as miserable at UConn if you’d gone there, too. Paige was everywhere. The freshman phenom who could truly do it all. The work she’d put into becoming better had paid off and it led to her having an electrifying first season.

Even though your heart ached, you couldn’t help but be proud of her. She was doing everything she said she was gonna do. She’s breaking records and making a name for herself – you’d just wished you could be there for it.

It’s almost pathetic how you’re unable to get over her. You stay off of social media but the knowledge that she’s just one text message away fucks with your brain more than you’d like to admit. It reminds you all too much of Gatsby and Daisy and that stupid project the two of you partnered for in AP Lit, only you’re some weird inverted version of them. Paige is the one with the riches, the grandeur, the mansion, yet she’s the one with the green light on the dock. You spend hours gazing out and hoping that she’s looking back at you, too. You’re the one who wishes you could go back into the past where you were still together, even though Gatsby’s story taught you that you’re only yearning for something that doesn’t exist anymore. You’re Gatsby, unable to move on, unable to fully come to terms with the fact that your dream wasn’t truly attainable, that you desired for too much and you couldn’t reach it.

There’s a scary thought in the back of your head that sounds like you just weren’t worth it. Gatsby’s story also taught you that Daisy’s feelings for Gatsby weren’t worth losing her social status, her life of comfort. Were you not worth it? You would have gone to hell and stayed if only to keep Paige, but perhaps that’s just something you need to work on.

So, you do. You find yourself a therapist in Minneapolis. You’ve been unhappy for a while now, but it’s also become increasingly obvious that you need to work on setting boundaries and unlearning emotional attachments that have done nothing but hurt you. You fall in love (romantically or platonically) far too quick, too easily, and you’re too forgiving. You were told from the start that you should be taking care of your heart and you suppose it’s better late than never.

Your therapist is an older lady who has seen some shit and been through some shit. She’s blunt and honest and exactly what you need. She tells you that you can protect yourself and still give to the world, to others. She also tells you that if you’re so unhappy at UMN that you should probably transfer. You put that piece of advice on the backburner because you’ve barely been here for a semester. Maybe you’ll have more fun and make new friends come spring. Maybe everything will turn around if you give yourself the chance to grow and be happy without constantly looking over your shoulder, hoping to see familiar blue eyes and that teasing smile you’ve all but memorized.

(Spoiler: you don’t.)

The spring semester of your freshman year rolls around and you’re honestly burned out. Your first semester was rough and you had a straight C average, which was quite the culture shock after being a straight A student throughout highschool. You try to show up to all of your classes, but registering for an 8am was honestly the worst decision of your life. You miss a few, your grades remain horribly consistent (more C’s!), and you can’t hold onto anymore friends, not for lack of trying. Your clubs fall through and nothing feels right about UMN. Sure, you’re close to home and you visit your parents twice a month, but UMN isn’t home at all. You know that there’s a piece of you in Connecticut somewhere.

Therapy is helping a lot, though. Fixing yourself emotionally is really taxing, but you’re making progress, and that’s good enough for now. Although it takes a couple of weeks, you manage to make a friend in one of your classes and you study together often. Her name is Krista. She’s a pre-med biology major and quite possibly the smartest person you’ve met in your semester and a half at UMN. She introduces you to some of her friends, too – an assortment of med-school hopefuls and the lone English major. Slowly but surely, UMN doesn’t feel as lonely and your grades start improving.

Eventually, the heartbreak starts to ache a little less. Seeing Paige’s picture plastered everywhere doesn’t hurt as much. You tune in for some of the UConn games during March Madness to cheer her on. It will probably take you a long time to be fully over Paige, but you’re at least mostly over the hurt. You reach out to a couple of your mutual friends just to see how she’s doing. Maybe you’ll regret that decision one day. Maybe not. Hearing that she’s doing okay settles your heart some. That turns into weekly check-ins. It’s something.

You and Paige were friends for a long time before you made it official. You’re not mourning the loss of a relationship, but you’re mourning your best friend, too. Nobody ever told you how devastating it was to go from sharing everything with someone to watching their life in pictures. Part of you wonders if she’s doing the same as you, if she even thinks about you like that, if she thinks about you at all or if she regrets the decision she’d made.

Your first year at UMN is nothing special. There’s a nagging voice in the back of your head that urges you to transfer. If you’re not fully happy after a year, then you’re not going to be happy this year. You think about the friends you’ve made – Krista and the others. Something about them just isn’t right. You may never have the vocabulary to explain it, but no matter how nice and welcoming they are, you still feel like an outsider looking in. Things aren’t all that bad, you tell yourself. Your grades are better and honestly, maybe this is just life. You aren’t always going to have a bunch of best friends. So, you decide to stay at UMN.

(How many bad decisions can one person possibly make before you start getting concerned?)

Sophomore year isn’t any better. It doesn’t suck, but you’re still unhappy. You’re surviving, not living. You start going home every weekend rather than the twice a month schedule you’d originally planned on. Being back in Hopkins reminds you of simpler times. It reminds you of late night Dairy Queen runs, of chatting in an empty parking lot, of that time Paige accidentally honked the horn in her stepmom’s SUV when she tried to pull you onto her lap. Hopkins reminds you of your junior prom, where you and Paige slow danced to Taylor Swift outside the gym, where you told her that you loved her for the first time and she told you that she did, too. Hopkins reminds you of happiness.

In December that year, your mutual friend — Amaya Battle — informs you that Paige fractured her tibial plateau and tore her lateral meniscus. None of that sounded good, but you felt like shit once Krista explained what that all meant. That injury would bench Paige for a couple of months. Despite the time, you still knew Paige well enough to know that she’s not happy about that. You open a long abandoned text thread with her, your last message reading happy birthday! and hers reading Thank you, and begin to draft out a new message. Saying that you’re sorry doesn’t feel like enough, but anything else feels like too much. You settle on simply expressing your condolences and you let her know that you’re praying for her. You’re not surprised when you don’t receive anything more than another “Thank you” in return.

Spring semester is long and uneventful. You still tune in for some of Paige’s games, but once finals are said and done and you’re not feeling any differently, you know that it’s time to move on. You apply as a transfer student for UConn.

JUNIOR YEAR – 2022-2023

You get accepted into UConn. Reading the Welcome to UConn Nation email feels as good as it did the first time you opened it surrounded by your family. It feels like coming home all over again. The break in between semesters feels painfully short and far too long at the same time, but before you know it, you’re moving into your dorm on campus, laughing along with your new roommate Livya like you’ve been friends forever. She helps you get settled in. Then she shows you around campus, pointing out all of the best study spots and the best dining halls. You meet up with a couple of her friends for lunch and it’s like everything just clicks. You know in your heart that this is where you’re supposed to be.

The news, however, comes to you in the form of an ESPN headline rather than a text from your mutual friend. Paige had torn her ACL nearly a week ago playing a game of pick up. Your heart was caught in your throat. You couldn’t help but feel terrible for Paige. This was supposed to be her healthy season back after her previous injury in December, but here she is on the bench again, healing from an injury she didn’t deserve to get. You feel the strangest sense of deja vu when you message Paige again, extending your condolences, but what you’re not expecting is the phone call from her that comes a few seconds later.

It rings once and all you can do is stare at it, jaw on the ground. On the second ring, your thumb hovers over the answer button. And on the third ring, you commit to it, bringing your phone to your ear. Your heart nearly beats out of your chest as you greet Paige. “Hey.”

Her voice is soft when she responds. “Hey.” It’s a little rough around the edges, mature, but there’s a lingering tenseness to it like she’s trying to keep herself together.

“Wasn’t expecting you to call,” you admit.

“Me neither,” she agrees.

You sit in silence for a few moments before you shift, clearing your throat. There’s so many things you want to say to her, but you know this moment is too fragile, too new. You know you’re not talking to the same girl you once knew. She’s changed. She’s older and she’s wiser and she knows what she wants now. You don’t know how to say what you want to say, although it’s evident that Paige is a little lost, too. “How, um…how are you?” you say finally.

The noise she makes on the other line sounds a little amused. “Well,” she murmurs. “At least it’s not both knees, right?”

You can’t help the choked laugh that draws from you. “God,” you say. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed at that.”

“Nah, s’okay,” she promises. You can hear the slight smile in her voice. “I missed that.”

Your heart thumps against your ribcage. “Missed what?” you ask, but you know what she means.

“Your laugh,” she confirms. “Still the same as it once was.”

You hum. “We’re not the same,” you say softly. “We’ve grown up.”

“Have we?” she asks. You swallow. “We’re older. Learned a lot. Doesn’t mean we’ve changed. Just evolved.”

“Is that not the same thing?”

“Pikachu evolves into Raichu but he’s still Pikachu, isn’t he?”

Despite yourself, you grin. “And you’re still an idiot.”

That makes her laugh. “C’mon,” she drawls. “I got a bum knee and you’re making fun of me?”

“Some things never change.”

“They don’t,” Paige agrees. “Heard you transferred to UConn?”

“I did. UMN wasn’t right for me. It didn’t feel like home.”

“It does here?”

You don’t hesitate when you respond. “Yeah. It does.”

The line falls silent again. You can hear the sound of Paige breathing on the other end. “I’m glad you’re here,” she says finally. Your grin melts into something a little more tender. “Do you wanna come to my dorm? We can catch up.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Probably not,” she concedes. “But I’m injured and I just spent two years missin’ you and I wanna see you.”

You should feel embarrassed at how little it takes to convince you. Before you realize the words coming out of your mouth, you’re saying, “Send me the address.” She does. Paige’s dorm isn’t too far away from yours. “I’ll be there in ten.”

When you do arrive, the girl who answers the door is not Paige. It’s Azzi Fudd. She knows you by name, offering you a gentle smile and pointing you down the hall to where Paige’s room is. You thank her, your heart caught in your throat, and you make your way through the apartment. You knock and you enter.

Paige glances up immediately as you walk in, her face softening immediately. She’s sprawled out across her bed, her knee secured in a heavy brace and propped up in a pillow. She’s wearing a loose pair of shorts and a long-sleeved UConn shirt. The first thing you notice is how different she is. Her time on the court and in the gym has treated her well. Her shoulders fill out her sweatshirt, muscles taut against the fabric. She’s bulked up and she scraped her old ponytail for a slick back bun, although the ‘slick back’ part is messy, strands flying haphazardly. Her eyes are disarmingly blue, not like that’s changed from the last time you saw her, and her smile is just as you remember. It’s enough to soften you instantly.

“Hey,” she says as you close the door behind you.

“Hi, P,” you murmur. Her face shifts, taking you in, and you know she’s cataloging everything that’s different about you, too. You wear your hair in a new style and the way you carry yourself is unlike the way you carried yourself in high school. It’s not confidence, it’s surety, more you. Behind the curiosity, you can see the lingering guilt, the realization that she broke your heart two years ago yet you still dropped everything to come and see her because she’s injured. You glance around the room, breaking your eye contact, scanning the basketball posters, album covers, and pictures of her and her teammates strewn about. Her comforter is purple, which makes you smile. Some things truly never change. “Nice room.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you fight a wince because of how awkward it sounds.

“Clean, right?” she jokes, drawing a short laugh from you – you’d always teased her for being messy, often having to motivate her to pick up her room. Her dorm is clean, but obviously lived-in as evidenced by the jacket slung over the arm of a gaming chair and a water bottle or two on the nightstand and the desk. “Nice hoodie.”

It’s only then that you glance down and your face flushes when you realize what you’re wearing. HOPKINS is emblazoned on the front, the number 1 below it. You don’t need to turn it around to know you have BUECKERS stitched on the back. Your eyes find her face again, noting that she’s not upset about it. She’s a little amused, if anything, although there’s something softer in her expression. You shrug a little. “Wasn’t brave enough to get rid of it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Her voice is a soft murmur. You meet her eyes, sharing a soft smile. Then, she clears her throat, shifting, and she nods to the spot next to her. “Come talk?” she requests.

You open your mouth, ready to decline. You know that if you fell into these patterns with Paige again, then you’d truly never get over her. Part of you wonders if you want to get over her in the first place, but you know you can’t put yourself through this again if she’s not in it for the long haul. “I don’t think–”

“Please?” she asks softly, her voice catching in her throat. “I just…don’t wanna be alone right now.”

You’re moving before she even finishes her sentence. She moves the blankets for you as you kick off your shoes, sliding in next to her like it’s second nature. When you do, you’re enveloped by her, the scent of her cologne, her body wash, that same brand of shampoo she’s been using since she was seventeen. You can feel the warmth of her body so close to yours and your breath hitches. You can hear the stutter in her breathing, too, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s missed you in the way you’ve missed her. Her fingers twitch like she’s fighting the urge to hold you, like she’s reminding herself she doesn’t really have that right anymore.

“So…” she starts. “Why’d you transfer? Really?”

You sigh. “I couldn’t really find my place at UMN. I struggled in my classes for a while and I had so much trouble making friends. I found a group, but it always felt like I was a plus one. My psychologist and my parents told me to transfer. Even Drew told me to transfer.”

She cracks a small, surprised smile. “You talk to Drew?”

“Our parents still talk, you know,” you say, nudging her, listening to her laughter. “Plus, Drew and my brother are like best friends.” You pause for a moment, twisting the ring on your finger, and hesitantly, you admit, “Drew told me I should transfer to UConn specifically. For you.”

“For me?” Her voice is pitched, her expression unreadable, and you nod.

“Yeah. He said we were happier before the break up.”

Paige chuckles, rolling her eyes. “He’s such a little shit.”

“I wonder where he gets it from?” At that, Paige half-heartedly shoves you, but there’s no force or malice behind it as you laugh. “But I didn’t transfer for you.”

“Of course not.” Her expression betrays her feigned nonchalance, like she thinks you’re full of shit.

“I didn’t!”

“Okay,” she says insufferably and you shake your head. “I, uh…I’m sorry for how I ended things.”

Your smile drops instantly, features softening. “Paige,” you murmur, but she ignores your words entirely. 

“I’ve thought about it for two years,” she admits, “and every day I wish I could go back in time and undo it. I thought I was protecting you but all I did was hurt us both. In the end, it didn’t even change shit. That’s the fucked up part.” She scoffs a little. “And here we are. I broke your heart yet you text me on my birthday, reach out when I injure myself, drop everything to come see me ‘cause my knee’s fucked? Why?”

You swallow thickly, not really needing to think about your response. “It’s you,” you whisper. You hear her breath catch, see the tears welling up in her eyes again. It’s always gonna be you, is the part that goes unsaid, but you wonder if Paige understands it all the same. “I would watch your games sometimes,” you confess. Paige makes a noise that sounds like it’s in between a sigh and a whimper, like hearing you speak is hurting her. You continue anyways, needing to get it off of your chest. “I’d watch your games and I’d cheer you on and wonder what it would be like if you didn’t change your mind, if I was sitting courtside like we’d always talked about. I’d probably be wearing this fucking hoodie or maybe you’d give me some of your UConn gear. Every week, I would talk to Amaya Battle just to ask how you were, and –” Paige interrupts you with a soft whisper of your name, but you shake your head, feeling the long restrained tears drop. “I missed you and all I wanted was you. You were so close yet so far – impossible and out of reach.”

“Not impossible,” she says firmly, her voice rough with tears. Instantly, you’re transported back nearly four years ago when she’d uttered words not too dissimilar. I don’t think it’s out of reach. Not for you. Not for us. “Never impossible. Not you, not me, not us.”

A tear slips down your cheek and she wipes it away. The brush of her finger against your skin, no matter how small, is pure electricity in your veins and you’re breathless for an entirely different reason now. “Aren’t we?” you ask, your eyes on hers. They’re alarmingly blue, brightened by the pool of tears that’s found home in them. You can’t help the way your feelings come rushing back. You were always going to be in love with Paige Bueckers. That’s not a feeling that goes away overnight or even two years after breaking up with her. She’s ruined you for anyone else and you can’t even be mad about it. “We’re different. You’re different.”

“Not different,” she argues, desperation lacing her tone as she squeezes your hands in between her own. “Evolved. I’m still me.”

“That’s the scary part,” you say. It’s scary because you know you’ll never be able to say no to her. You love her too much for that, and deep down, you also there’s nothing more right than you and her.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Her thumb finds your cheek again, clearing the wetness, and your lip trembles when you look at her.  Paige’s expression is unguarded, a clear promise reflected in her eyes. If this all went to shit, you wouldn’t have the energy or the resources to pick your heart up again, but what are you if not brave despite the ache? What if it’s different this time, if you and Paige have grown, not changed, and you’re better for each other? You know better now than to make those same mistakes. You know Paige well enough to know she means what she says. So maybe you’re a fool, or you’re naive, or too trusting for your own good, but you can’t help but believe Paige. “A lot of people have hurt you. I was one of them,” she continues, uncomfortably vulnerable as she swallows. “I will never forgive myself for that but somehow, you did. Whatever it takes, I’ll prove to you that you didn’t make the wrong choice like I did. Give me time and the chance and I’ll show you. I swear.”

Your heart knows your decision long before your brain has made it. That’s just how you work. You nod at her, watching utter relief and gratitude seep through her features, and honestly, when you look back at it, you’re not completely sure who leans in first. But what you do know is that you’re tangling your fingers in her sweatshirt, pulling her impossibly close as you initiate the kiss, something intense and deep and desperate and everything you’ve been wishing for over the past two years. You know it’s a bad idea, doing this out of order, yet you can’t bring yourself to care because Paige shudders against your lips, her hands finding your hips and dragging you impossibly closer. You’re cautious of her knee, trying to minimize the amount of space between your bodies, and you loop your arms around her neck when you pull away to trail your lips down her jaw, the column of her throat. She tilts her head back, granting you more space, and you don’t sober up until you feel one of her tears fall against your cheek.

You pull away from her immediately, feeling as though you’d been submerged in an ice bath. Paige must not register that she’s crying because she chases after you with a noise of dissatisfaction, her hands pressing into your sides. You push her away gently, smiling despite yourself, brushing her tears away with your knuckle. “Maybe we should, um… not make out when we’re crying and emotional?” you suggest.

Paige clears her throat, leaning away from you with great difficulty. “Yeah,” she agrees quickly. “Probably for the best.” You can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes from your mouth. Paige’s lips quirk up, a flicker of hope in her eyes. “We’re okay?” she asks, a little hesitant.

“We will be,” you assure her, not missing the way her face lights up. “But we should probably…”

“Slow down?” Paige finishes.

You nod. “Yeah. Be friends first. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“I can work with that,” she murmurs, her words a direct echo of the first promise she’d ever made to you.

You smile, your heart feeling lighter than it has in years. You breathe a little easier knowing that you’re still you and Paige is still Paige – you’re not the same, but you’re something a little better, more improved, and you have the knowledge to take better care of each other’s hearts this time around. You and Paige have grown up and matured. You lost your way for a while but as you lay in bed next to her like no time has passed at all, you know somewhere deep inside of your body that this is where you’re truly meant to be.

(You and Paige do commit to slow. You know each other like the back of your hands and the love is still there, but you’re determined to do this right this time. So, you keep things friendly, strengthening the connection between the two of you – she introduces you to her teammates, helps you study while she’s out for the season. In turn, you help her with her rehab and you motivate her on the days that feel more bleak.

When the both of you go back home for Thanksgiving break, both of your families are ecstatic to see that you’re “back together” and you don’t think anyone believes the two of you when you say you’re just taking it slow for now. Your little brothers tease you, your dads share knowing glances, and your mothers smile like they know exactly where this is going.

However, when the two of you return to Minnesota for winter break, Paige takes you to the park that the two of you used to spend your time at, leading you to the swings. You talk about anything and everything and nothing, content to just enjoy the moment, but when Paige asks you to be her girlfriend officially – again, but second time’s the charm, right? – you truly have no choice but to say no, kissing her gently as the Minnesotan snow falls around the two of you.

You’re home now.)

[djarins-cyare]

Get to know your moots!

Thank you for the tag, @djarinmuse! I love these little questionnaires 😊. Challenging myself to be more succinct in my answers for once (yeeeah, don’t all hold your breath 😅)

What’s the origin of your blog title?

In a stunning lack of originality, I just used my writing pseudonym for my blog title: Jyar’ika. If it’s not obvious, that’s the Mando’a word cyar’ika (sweetheart) with a J for Jem replacing the C. It’s pronounced JAH-ree-kah, with emphasis on the first syllable (like Jessica or Erika). And on my sideblog, since it’s a rec blog, I’ve just titled it “Jyar’ika enjoyed…” because apparently WYSIWYG with me 🤗.

OTP(s) + shipname:

Oh man, there’ve been many over the years. I was an early X-Files fan, so MSR in real-time, of course. I shipped both Bangel and Spuffy at different points. Big on Polivia in the first few seasons of Fringe (when I discovered fanfiction existed). Fell completely down the fanfic rabbit hole with Carter/O’Neill from Stargate SG-1 (who unsatisfyingly never seemed to get a portmanteau ship name). Those are probably the main ones.

Favourite colour:

Teal; all shades thereof.

Favourite game:

It’s gotta be the old point n’ click PC games I played as a kid in the 90s, but I can’t pick one favourite. Big fan of the Monkey Island games, the Indiana Jones games, Maniac Mansion and Day of the Tentacle – basically anything LucasArts. Also, every game in the Broken Sword series, the Gabriel Knight series, and the Tex Murphy series. These are a fraction of the titles I played and loved.

Song stuck in your head:

I was doom-scrolling on Twitter the other day and saw (didn’t even hear!) a tweet saying Take That’s song ‘Shine’ was released 18 years ago, and it’s so iconic that my brain immediately played it to me. It’s been in there for days now! I was recently shocked and saddened to learn that most Americans don’t know about Take That 😱😭. I was never a massive fan or anything, but they are UK pop legends.

Weirdest habit/trait:

People at work think it’s weird that I don’t like speaking on the phone. If I have to have a phone call, I need to know what time it’ll be so I can prepare. But it’s because, without a visual of the other person, I find reading between the lines of neurotypical conversation more difficult. I can do it, but it’s an effort, and I need time to prepare for that kind of brain-taxing interaction.

Hobbies:

The Mandalorian, duh. Writing fics about it, mainly.

If you work, what’s your profession?

I’m in criminal law, basically doing the lawyers’ jobs for them because I have a critical eye for detail and can catch stuff they miss when preparing cases. But I never did my LPC, so I don’t have to go to court and do all the scary legal argument stuff. Win.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

Author of a well-loved fiction series. I aim to make this happen one day, though at the rate I’m going, I’ll probably be retired when it finally happens! It comforts me to know that Douglas Adams always found writing to be a slow and arduous process, too.

Something you’re good at:

The English language, I guess. I have a good understanding of the technical side of writing.

Something you’re bad at:

In contrast to the above, the poetry of writing. I often struggle to ensure my writing is sufficiently dynamic and beautiful, and I have to go over things many times to try and inject more soul into my words. I’m glad I’m aware of this weakness, though – every day’s a school day, and there’s plenty of time and space to improve.

Something you love:

The Mandalorian, duh. Specifically Din Djarin.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff:

The Mandalorian, duh. Specifically Din Djarin.

Something you hate:

I try not to hate; this world needs more love. And if I can’t avoid hating, I do it quietly and won’t share it. So, I’ll pass on this question, thanks.

Something you collect:

Words. I love learning new ones. I love learning additional definitions and nuances of ones I already know. I can never have enough words.

Something you forget:

The time. Seriously, I have no sense of time whatsoever and am late for everything. I’ve just looked at the clock and realised it’s coming up 6:00am, and I haven’t gone to bed yet because I didn’t realise how late it is.

What’s your love language?

Of the five, mine is definitely the ‘acts of service’ one. I show love by trying to ease the burdens of others, and I feel loved when people do the same for me. At the other end of the scale is the ‘receiving gifts’ one… I can’t pick out gifts to save my life, and I always feel awkward receiving a gift I haven’t asked for and don’t need. Gifts are almost a hate language for me!

Favourite movie/show:

The Mandalorian, duh.

Favourite food:

I’m gonna say pizza. I don’t get to have it much anymore because I’m eating healthier these days, but I still indulge in the occasional Domino’s order.

Favourite animal:

Can I say Din Djarin when he’s been dosed with sex pollen? 😏

Are you musical?

I guess this is a yes because I’ve played a variety of musical instruments since the age of 5 (starting with the humble recorder, then violin, piano, guitar and other random stuff like the harmonica and ukulele) and was in choirs for the whole of my childhood and adolescence. I performed in several big shows, including a performance at the Royal Albert Hall of Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana (even if you don’t know the name, you’ll likely know one particular movement of the cantata; it’s been overused in ads, etc). But it’s been years since I played or sang anything, so maybe notsomuch anymore.

What were you like as a child?

As a very young child: unknowingly autistic. This mainly manifested in me ruining family vacations by refusing to step foot on a beach if there was any sign of seaweed, or enter a restaurant with ceiling fans, or get in a swimming pool if there was a mosaic on the pool floor. Anything outside my regular routine was terrifying to me, but nobody knew about autism in the 80s, so my parents just thought I was overly sensitive. I learned how to mask pretty early, though, so by the time I went to school, I’d figured out how to fit in. Despite that, I was always the kid who had intense hyperfixations (boys, TV shows, bands, hobbies). I still am, really!

Favourite subject at school?

English literature. Fiction was (and still is) my happy place. I also had a massive crush on my maths teacher when I was 13-14, so I was a maths nerd for a whole year. I still remember the quadratic equation!

Least favourite subject?

Religious education. It was the one subject I failed my exams in, mainly because I’m an atheist, and as a kid, I couldn’t see the point of learning about something I didn’t believe in. Later, I realised that exploring different worldviews helps us better understand ourselves and how to respect and appreciate diversity, so as an adult, I’ve made an effort to make up for my childish ignorance by learning as much as possible.

What’s your best character trait?

My autism. It heightens my attention to detail and makes me especially concerned about others’ happiness and well-being.

What’s your worst character trait?

My autism. It frustrates neurotypicals who don’t understand why I act or respond in particular ways.

If you could change any detail of your day right now, what would it be?

I would’ve gone to bed earlier. It’s 6:31am, and I’m tired.

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

I’m not interested in going backwards, so nobody really. I’d probably go forward simply to check that the world didn’t end and that the USA didn’t turn into the Free American Independent Theocratic Hegemony (F.A.I.T.H.) or anything. (That’s a Bobiverse reference for anyone who’s never read Dennis E. Taylor… which, TBF, is probably most of you since his novels are pretty niche. I recommend reading them, though – super fun and packed with geeky pop culture references).

Recommend one of your favourite fanfics (spread the love!):

I finally got around to reading You Were Marked by @handspunyarns last week, and let me tell you, I could not stop binging it. It’s been a long time since I was last addicted to a fic to this degree. I’d had it on my TBR list for a while, but I’d prioritised others because I wasn’t sure if it would resonate with me since I don’t see any of myself in the main character… but boy, was I wrong! It’s extraordinary, compelling, and at times heartbreaking and agonising, but so well-written with exquisite worldbuilding and a daringly original plot, all of which seared it into my mind forever because I’ve never read anything like it. I implore you all to try it if you haven’t already. It’s a masterpiece 💜.

I usually check to see if the people I tag have already done the game, but I’ve really gotta sleep, so I’m just gonna tag at random here. I’m really sorry if any of you have done this already.

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @cw80831 @darthbeebles @desert-fern

@dindenimchicken @frickatives @here-briefly @ishabull @jessthebaker

@lilac-boo @mosssbawls @nervoushottee @papurgaatika @qunariagenda

@roughdaysandart @the-color-is-black @the-mandawhor1an @toomanytookas @zaddymandalorian

[cosyvelvetorchid]

@bucktommyfluffebruary Day 9: Moving in together.

A prompt I was given last year titled ‘Orchids’.

*****

Rated G | 914 words

The day had finally arrived. After weeks of slowly packing up his things in between his shifts, Buck was finally moving in with Tommy.

There wasn’t really all that much to move in on the day. Buck had been taking a couple of boxes of stuff over to Tommys every time he stayed over, so all that was left was the the remainder of his kitchen equipment, toiletries and the washer and dryer which were far newer than Tommys who had agreed to donate his own machines to make room for Bucks.

In the two weeks of preparation Tommy himself had taken the opportunity to clear out some of his possessions and get rid of some junk. Mostly books he’d long since read and random tools and car parts.

Buck flopped down on the sofa next to Tommy with a grunt. Tommy wrapped his arm around his neck pulling Bucks temple to his lips for a kiss.

“You okay, baby?” He asked. Buck slid his hands around Tommy waist.

“Tired. But happy.” He hummed into Tommys chest. Tommy replied with a kiss to the top of his head.

“Not regretting moving in?” He teased.

Buck placed a hand on Tommys chest for leverage to push himself up to meet Tommys eyes. “Not in a million years.” He grinned.

“Good.” Tommy leaned in for a soft kiss to his lips. Buck settled back down onto Tommys chest. After a few moments he noticed a large black book on the coffee table.

“What’s that?” He asked through a yawn.

“Oh, I wanted to show you.” Tommy said excitedly leaning forward to grab it. “I found it when I was clearing out stuff for your impending arrival.” He placed it on his lap and Buck sat up a little so look. “It’s a photo album that belonged to my grandmother.”

He opened it up and slowly flipped the pages. She really was quite beautiful when she was younger and Buck could see the family resemblance in the eyes and the signature smile lines.

“How old were you when she died?”

“Uh, 20.”

“Tell me about her.” Buck said resting his head on Tommy shoulder.

“She was so much fun. Eccentric at times. A little impulsive. You remind me of her sometimes, ya know.”

“Yeah?” The thought made Buck feel warm inside.

“Yeah. God, she would have loved you. She loved shenanigans and she definitely wouldn’t have had a hard time roping you in on them.” He laughed fondly. “She was always smiling and happy. I can’t ever remember her being mad at anyone or any thing.” He flipped the page to a slightly browning and dog eared photograph of her standing next to a table, on top of which was a tall orchid with a “1st prize” rosette stuck to it.

“That was her favourite hobby—growing orchids. She won so many competitions at flower shows. She probably spent more money than she won as prizes but she loved it so much.”

“I wish I could have met her.” Buck said softly.

“Me too.”

*****

A week later and Buck was entirely unpacked in his new home. He came off a 48 hour shift a few hours before Tommys 24 ended. He’d tried to stay awake for him coming home but minutes after he’d sat on their sofa his slid down and fell asleep.

Tommy arrived home and kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door. “Hey baby.” He called out. “Baby?” He repeated when he got no response. He walked along the hall and peered into the living room and his heart melted at the sight.

Buck, with his hands tucked in underneath his chin, lay soundly asleep sprawled along the sofa. Tommy quietly walked in the room and slowly pulled the crocheted blanket from the back of the sofa and gently draped it over him. He placed a delicate kiss onto his head and left the room for the kitchen.

As he entered the room he stopped dead in his tracks. On the centre of the kitchen island was a white ceramic plant pot with a beautiful bright blue orchid planted inside. He felt a rush of warmth fill every crevice in his body at the thoughtfulness of his boyfriend.

There was a time in his life not too far in the past when he didn’t think he’d ever find someone special, let alone someone with as thoughtful and attentive as Evan. He smiled as a tear escaped his eye and snaked its way down his cheek.

He walked over and tentatively ran his finger along one of the petals.

“Do you like it?” A groggy voice came from behind him. He turned his head to see Buck, eyes slightly scrunched as he adjusted to the light and hair disheveled. He fell in love with him just a little bit more at the sight.

He walked straight over to him, one hand grabbed around Bucks waist and the other the back of his neck and pulled him in for a firm kiss. Buck hummed in response and Tommys heart flipped in his chest.

“I love you.” He whispered releasing the kiss and resting their foreheads together.

Buck smiled happily “I love you, too.” He said. “And I hope your grandma taught you some shit because I have no idea how to keep this bad boy alive.” Tommy’s head leant back as he let out a loud laugh.

“I’m sure we can figure it out.”

[resplendent-chungus]

I've been re-reading Worm and God the part starting with Coil bombing the mayoral debate and ending with the heroes coming for Taylor in school (or Noelle's death, if you're picky) is such an insane run of arcs. Just banger after banger after banger.

It's got everything; Taylor being blinded, Coil pretending to free Dinah, Taylor fighting her way out of Coil's trap, the Undersiders thinking she betrayed them, Coil finally biting the bullet and Dinah going home, and then boom! Noelle time, and everything that comes with it!

It's by far my favourite part of the book. I honestly think Gold Morning is the only thing that can compare to it. It's an absolutely insane decision to have the two cathartic things we've been building to since before Leviathan (Dinah being freed and Coil exiting stage right) happen in the middle of that shitstorm, and even more insane to make them work so well.

[the-tarot-witch22]

What's coming for you in love in 2025? - Pick a Pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2/ Pile 3

My Paid Readings | My insta | My year goal post

Liked my blog or readings? Tip me!

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Pile 1:

(The cards I got for you - 10 of pentacles, knight of pentacles, 9 of wands and the fool)

Okay so the very first thing I heard and feel is, "patience" I feel your love life has been stagnant or stuck for quite a while, or you just don't feel like the need to have someone in your life, you are doing things but for your own, and maybe a part of you deep down wishes for the love the craving, soul shattering style. I am feeling this year will bring you luck in your love life, Like you will be meeting someone around the mid year to next year, But what I am feeling is your person, is taking his time, since he has lots going on , nothing to worry about but is like a bit of stress going on in their life, and you as well you need to go through some transitions before you actually come across them. Their energy is very masculine or well balanced. I am also feeling that it will happen when you let go of expectation and embrace the unknown, take the risk, not just stay in your safe cocoon. I am also feeling the person coming is quite something. He is patient, not that romantic in a way, but his actions will prove otherwise, the small little things or big things you will do for you, but for many of you I am seeing you might meet your person this year, and for some of you I am seeing lots of self love and growth, the song i keep channeling is "flowers" by Miley Cyrus , like even though you crave it you are not as desperate for it. "I can buy myself flowers", "talking to myself for hours, say things you don't understand", you got the gist hmm, and this is also very beautiful it proves, that you have the right energy, but do open your heart, take risks, go out, do stuff for yourself, and very unexpectedly you will meet you person.

The zodiac signs i feel prominent in this group are aquarius, earth signs and fire signs especially sagittarius/leo (sun/moon/rising).

Pile 2:

(The cards I got for you - 2 of cups, 3 of pentacles, and 8 of wands)

Okay so the very first thing I feel and heard is, you're definitely gonna encounter someone this year, it's like a divine connection that I am seeing is coming towards you, I am also seeing the connection between you both, is gonna get develop into something more and quickly very soon, the attraction you both feel will be very much mutual, like you both know and realize what you want and its you both, the feelings are so mutual and pure, for some of you I feel you already know who your future spouse is, so I am feeling you might get close to them. or if not then there is just they are more on your thoughts or dreams and EVEN if you don't meet them it will be like your soul recognize it and it will happen very soon for you both. I am also feeling you both might have met at work, education, travel,, or a group kind of project, or shared interest, and if not you might meet there. I am also feeling you will learn a lot, from this experience, or from them it's not a superficial kind of love it's a love and feeling that is very deep. I am also hearing that is meant to be! I am also feeling that this connection is soulmate connection and you share something deep! I am also feeling from seeing the cards that this union is gonna be life changing and it will change your perception of love and how you see it.

The zodiac signs i feel prominent in this group are scorpio, cancer, pisces, virgo and fire signs especially sagittarius and aries. (sun/moon/rising).

Pile 3:

(The cards I got for you - 9 of wands, the sun, king of swords and the 3 of cups)

Okay so the very first thing I heard and feel is that you guys are SUPER independent, like yeah I can do that i don't need no one type of thing. You might have been a real people pleaser, but I am seeing you are trying to over come it and you also stand up for yourself which is very good thing, and in relationships i feel you haven't had much luck and many of you didn't even had boyfriend or this, but this just means god has some special plans for you. I am also feeling you can't tolerate bullshit of others, you are not the person to stay if someone is being intolerable. And that's a good thing. I am also seeing that you guys have CHANGED IN PAST FEW YEARS which is a good thing for you. Okay, I also got the message that some of you here might had one or two relationships but not serious, many of you don't even know what love is like (not saying that's a bad thing) just typing out the things I channel. So, now let's dive deeper, I am also feeling that this year particularly will bring a change in your life which will be TURNING YOUR LIFE UPSIDE down, maybe you realize who is your person, there will be signs, SO i am seeing and feeling that you don't ignore them at ALL. you will be seeing lots of 11:11, 222 and 444 but also feathers and butterflies. I am also feeling that the change will be so full of happiness, you might not even see it coming in a way. After all, universe has a plan and works in mysterious ways. I am also feeling that in love there is someone coming towards the end of the year mostly fall or in October, I am also feeling the person will be very intelligent and confident, they are like a life of party. I am also feeling when you come across them, you might be celebrating something like you got A job, you passed your exams, you launched your business. They are also very intellectual, and it's gonna transform your life in a very good way.

The prominent zodiac signs are - fire signs and air signs, sun/moon/rising.

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[jaemlover101]

love you (from afar) - na jaemin

jaemin x female reader (feat. jeno and the rest of the dreamies)

synopsis: When you’re finally pulled out of your house and pushed into your first party at the ripe age of sixteen, you meet Na Jaemin. In an instant, you're captivated and obsessed while he remains oblivious. Unrequited love is hard but it’s even worse when time proves it isn’t on anyone's side. 

Or alternatively: To you, Na Jaemin is the center of your universe but to him, you are an awesome friend.

genre: fluff, angst, unrequited love, basically a love triangle, coming of age if you squint?, strangers to friends to ???

warnings/notes: underage drinking, swearing, no one rlly gets closure, time skips?, haechan is readers best friend lol, lots of mirroring!!, lmk if i missed any.. :3

wc: 9.6k+

a/n: hello hello!! my writing debut! (or return if you can even count the works i published in middle school...) i'm so excited to finally put out a finished piece for the first time in years and hopefully you enjoy it! i'm a person who enjoys writing, i'm not a writer so i'm sorry if this is not perfect- it's just something fun for me! feedback is appreciated and happy reading <3 p.s. i barely proofread this sry!

this piece was loosely inspired by this song! love u (from afar)

The first time you realize you’re in love with Na Jaemin is at your first high school party. 

You couldn’t believe your friend had somehow managed to finally get you away from your desk and into a crowded and overly-heated house. You did not belong here.

“Aren’t you excited to finally live a little?” You look up at the tanned boy throwing his arm around you. Scoffing, you dig your elbow into his side a little, “I live everyday, you just think it’s boring.” Haechan laughs at the eye roll you send him, “Can’t argue there.”

You know Haechan is feeling proud of himself. In your many years of knowing the boy, he was always the one trying his hardest to pull you out of your room. Even though you almost always refused his pleading, you couldn’t help but secretly like that Haechan had never given up on you.

Hearing your name, you whip around to lock eyes with your other friend running up to you, “I can’t believe you got her to come!” 

Rolling your eyes must be a new habit of yours. “I had to bribe her,” Haechan shakes his head, disappointed with the truth, “but she’s here! Finally the trio can thrive!” 

Haechan wraps his other arm around the boy as the three of you continue your journey into the kitchen, “What should her first drink be junnie?” the other thinks for a second, “maybe something easy, she’d probably like a smirnoff ice” You look at the boy, a little worry in your eyes, “don’t worry, it’s an easy drink, low percentage.”

As the night progressed, you became more comfortable as you stuck with your friends, feeling more confident with each drink you consumed. 

Haechan watched as you and Renjun went shot for shot, wide-eyed at the sight. He blinked twice just to make sure he was seeing things correctly. 

Wincing after your third shot, you tap out with Renjun’s solo celebration in tow. Haechan can’t help but pinch at your rose-colored cheeks, “Who knew the introvert had a wild side!” You jab at his side with a laugh contradicting your movements.

Maybe Haechan and Renjun were right. You needed to let loose more often.

“I need to use the bathroom.” you blurt out, looking between Haechan and Renjun. “It’s down the hall, first door on the left.” You follow Renjun’s finger as best as possible. 

You nod, reminding them not to leave this spot without you. After all, you were in a stranger's house, inebriated, and new to this scene. 

Your body glides along the wall as you make your way towards the door. It’s a little quieter down the hallway, making you aware of how loud your inner monologue is.

Reaching for the doorknob, your hand misses it as it swings open, your body colliding with something hard. 

You figure you must’ve run into the door until a pair of hands rest on your hips. 

Shooting your head up, you lock eyes with the prettiest boy you think you’ve ever seen. He smiles down at your shocked face. “Well hello to you too.” Your cheeks manage to flush red even more. 

What. The. Fuck!

You push out of his hold, looking everywhere but at him. “Sorry I have to pee!” Is all you manage to croak out as you push past him, closing the door. 

With your back against the door, you feel your heart beating out of your chest. Who was he? God he was so handsome! No, get it together. Haechan this is all your fault! Thoughts race around your head, too quick for you to catch any of them. 

Returning back to your friends after finally relieving yourself and regaining composure, you're being pulled to the backyard by Haechan, Renjun following right beside you. “I want you to meet my friends!” You let your body relax, completely forgetting about whatever transpired moments ago.

Feeling the cool breeze hit your body, you realize the backyard is significantly less packed and you can’t help but shiver a bit. 

“Haechan!” You hear a chorus of boys chime out as you approach a fire pit. Going from left to right, you recognize some faces while others are brand new or barely holding on in your foggy memory. 

You recognize Jisung right away. You had gym with him freshman year and you cried when his “stellar football throw” went the wrong direction and nailed you right in the head. You had become acquaintances after the incident. He had offered to buy you ice cream at the shop near school and you figured he wasn’t a bad person, he just had bad aim. 

Chenle sat right next to him. You didn’t know him well but you knew Jisung and him were tied at the hip. When the football incident happened, instead of helping either of you, Chenle opted for falling onto the ground, tears threatening to come out as he gasped for air from his incessant laughter.

Next to him was another boy, sporting wire-rimmed glasses and mindlessly strumming a guitar in his lap. He shot you a soft smile before focusing back on the conversation Haechan had started. You figured his name was Mark from the way Haechan whined for the boy's attention.

Beside him was another boy who looked oddly familiar. Watching the way his eyes formed crescents as he laughed felt like deja vu until you realized it was Jeno. In your first semester of your sophomore year, you and Jeno had shared a theatre class to fulfill an arts elective. You interacted once or twice during the semester but only as characters, never as yourself and Jeno.

Lastly, beside Jeno was a recognizable face but a stranger all in one. The boy from the bathroom. You watched as the light from the flames danced across his features, making him look ethereal. Was he even real?

You admittedly stare longer than you should and you’re snapped out of it when Renjun grabs you by your arms, pushing you forward to sit down right next to the boy. 

Your frame instinctively shrinks as he turns, sending you a smile, “Hello again.” You meet his eyes, the fire floating around in his dark brown orbs. You could stare at him all day if he’d let you. “Hi,” Really? That’s all you can muster up? “Sorry for bumping into you earlier, It’s my first time drinking so I’m kind of all over the place up here.” You make a scrambling gesture around your head. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that you’re new to all this but at the moment you don’t have a great filter.

He laughs and you swear you feel butterflies in your stomach. Did you always feel like this when you heard laughter? You could’ve sworn you wanted to kill Haechan most times you heard him laughing.

“It’s alright, I’m Jaemin by the way.” 

Jaemin?

Jaemin.

Jaemin.

Even his name was nice. Was he God’s favorite?

The night continues with the eight of you huddled around the fire getting to know each other. You can’t help but think you really like these guys, especially the one next to you. 

You naturally bounce off one another throughout the night as if you’d always been friends. When someone says something funny, you’re both locking eyes before busting out into laughter.

It’s weird you think, but you’re not opposed to how comfortable the boy makes you. Your heart’s beating faster than you can keep up with and the way he makes you feel so comfortable has you leaning in, feeling weak in the knees.

Is this what liking someone feels like? Is this love?

That night, when you sneak back into your room, Haechan and Renjun passing out immediately on your floor, you make it a priority to find your journal and scribble down how you feel.

First high school party

I think I fell in love with a stranger today.

· · ─────── · ·

The second time you realize your feelings for Na Jaemin is at the end of your senior year of high school.

Hearing your name from behind, you whip around in the crowd of people to see your friends standing a little bit behind you with stupid smiles plastered on all their faces. 

You run straight to them, crashing into a huge group hug, “Guys!” Your voice is laced with celebration, sadness, and fear all at once, “We did it! We graduated!” 

Thanks to Haechan’s persistence to get you out of the house your sophomore year of high school, you now have a rather large group of friends but you’re not complaining. 

After your first ever party, your trio had turned into an octet. It was chaotic but it worked and you loved it.

After a few pictures, insisted by all of your mothers, you hug your friends one by one as if you’re not all about to drive back to Chenle’s house for a pool party.

You end your hugs with the best hugger of them all, Na Jaemin. And no, that is not just because you like him. He really gives great hugs.

His taller frame engulfs yours and his touch feels warm. 

You feel him lean down before you feel his breath on your ear, “I’m so proud of us,” you remove your head from his chest, opting to look up at him instead.

You can’t help but think Jaemin has always been so handsome. 

“Me too.” Is all you can muster up, getting lost in his eyes. He stares down at you softly, the interaction feels vulnerable, intimate even. 

“Guys, let's go! Renjun just got the keys to his new minivan!” Chenle shouts, clenching his stomach as he tries to hold back his laughter.

One man’s graduation gift is another man’s comedic relief.

- 

Arriving at Chenle’s house, you’re always blown away at the size and at the fact that the party you all met at was here. 

Even though you’ve been friends for two years now, you still don’t think you’ve seen his house in its entirety. 

You hear Haechan call your name from downstairs and you’re quick to check yourself in the mirror one more time before heading down.

You don’t personally love the color pink but Jaemin does so you opt for one of the only pink two pieces you own.

“Don’t you hate the color pink?” Haechan asks before opening the door to the backyard, “It grew on me.” 

“Let’s play chicken!” Chenle shouts as soon as you walk out. He knows you’re the only one ever willing to play against him and Jisung.

Slowly getting into the pool to acclimate yourself, you wade over to Jaemin and Jeno.

“Pretty swimsuit, I love the pink,” He noticed! You smile as you finally settle in front of the two, “Thank you! I saw it a few weeks ago and thought the color was pretty,” Jaemin hums as he continues to smile at you. 

You feel small under his gaze, you decide to avert your gaze to Jeno, who’s already looking at you.

“Are you excited for Summer?” Jeno asks as he pushes off the pool wall, moving to stand closer due to Haechan and Chenle’s screaming contest impairing his hearing.

“Very excited to spend everyday with you guys,” you say with a sigh and an eye roll. He knows you’re being sarcastic and the boy can’t help the smile forming on his lips. 

He matches your tone, “Yeah cause you hate us soooo much,” he leans towards you in a teasing manner and you can only laugh before admitting defeat, “Sadly no, I love you guys too much.” you place your hands over your heart and give your best sob face before you’re suddenly pulled away.

You follow the hand wrapped around your arm and you see Jaemin’s figure pulling you to the middle of the pool. 

“Ready to win?”

“Obviously.”

Jaemin dips under the water, allowing you to easily mount his shoulders. 

You’ve done this action a thousand times but his hands on your thighs never fail to make your heart beat like crazy. 

“You’re going down.” Jisung mutters as he comes up from the water with Chenle on his shoulders, “Keep that smack talk up and I’ll make Renjun apply your sunscreen instead.” 

At this Jisung is quick to shut his mouth with Renjun painfully screaming ‘noooo!’ in the background.

Mark goes in between your pairs as the makeshift referee. Everyone knows he won’t rig it because frankly, he doesn’t care who wins, he just thinks it’s funny to see his friends flail around.

“Go!”

Pushing at Chenle’s incoming figure, you feel Jaemin’s grip on your thighs tighten to steady you both. It’s a never-ending pushing match between you and Chenle, both always being full of energy when it comes to a game of chicken.

“You got this! Push him harder!” You hear Jaemin’s support over the screaming coming from Chenle and the rest of the boys. 

You’re quick to push hard, but your hand slips past Chenle’s shoulder, giving him an open opportunity to push you over. 

Before he gets the chance, Jisung screams, suddenly becoming unsteady. You take that opportunity, pushing Chenle with enough force to make him and Jisung topple over. 

You cheer as Jaemin bobs up and down in the water to push you up like a champion. 

“That wasn’t fair! Jeno and Haechan scared me!” Jisung spoke up as he emerged from the water. Your eyes move to the two boy’s floating innocently on the side, catching Haechan’s mischievous eyes and Jeno’s playful smile, “We did no such thing!” 

You don’t miss the playful wink Jeno sends you .

-

By the time the sun starts to set, Chenle sets up the firepit next to the pool with his dad’s help before you all begin making s’mores. 

When you packed for today’s events, it never dawned on you to bring an extra pair of clothes to wear but thankfully Jaemin offered his hoodie and you were quick to take his offer. 

With the fire, Jaemin’s hoodie, his body heat radiating right next to you, and the blanket he made sure to drape over both of you– you were more than warm.

“Want me to make you a s’more?” You nod at his offer as he pushes a marshmallow onto his stick. 

Jaemin’s always been extra sweet to you and sometimes you wonder if he might like you back but other times you chalk it up to you being the only girl in your friend group. 

But the way his touch lingers, the way he looks at you with care, how his voice becomes softer around you– you swear there has to be something.

“Ahhhh” the boy holds a completed s’more up to your mouth, as he looks at you expectantly with a sweet smile. 

Just like the night you met, the fire dances in his dark brown orbs and you swear you would willingly get lost in his eyes. 

Taking the s’more you smile at the boy as he nudges you playfully.

-

That night you make sure to find your journal as soon as you close the door to your bedroom.

Graduation day

Jaemin is such a gentleman, it makes me so giddy. How could someone not fall for him?

· · ─────── · ·

When you’re finally used to your feelings for Na Jaemin, you’re in your first year of college.

By some higher being, you and your friend group had ended up at the same school and although you pretend like they’re a pain in the ass, you’re thankful you didn’t have to say goodbye to any of them.

“Are you coming over tonight?” You look up from your phone to see Jaemin mindlessly picking at the fruit cup in front of him.

It was Friday meaning it was Jaemin and Jeno’s turn to host movie night. You smile as you watch your friend pick the strawberries out and place them on a napkin in front of you. At this point in the semester, this was routine for you two. Meet after class, share a snack, and catch up.

“Do I even have a choice?” you sigh, taking a strawberry. The boy can only laugh at your weak attempt to sound upset about tonight. 

You feel the way his feet mindlessly play with yours under the picnic table. Jaemin has always been like this. Touchy. Playful. Clueless.

As years passed and you grew closer to Jaemin, that weird feeling lingered through it all. His soft touches, his compliments, his banter, his everything– it all burned you but you wanted nothing more than to be engulfed by his flame. 

But you were friends. Nothing more, nothing less. So you tried to push those feelings to the side, opting to be Jaemin’s friend up close and his admirer from a distance.

“I hope we don’t have to watch spiderman for the fourth time in a row,” You joke, pushing your overbearing thoughts to the back for another time. “Maybe we should watch horror or something. I don’t think we’ve done that in a while.” He hums in thought before chiming in, “Haechan would probably die then come back and haunt us.” 

You laugh at the thought of your friend in ghost form, “I don’t know if I could handle Haechan for an eternity.” Admittedly, you spent a lot of nights praying to the air that your friendship with Haechan would surpass time and break the barriers of infinity, but you would never admit that to him. It would boost his ego too much.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you. He continued to play footsie under the table as you took the strawberries he despised. Every so often, you stole glances across the table. He hadn’t changed much over the years, instead he had grown into his features. His dedication to the gym paid off though it wasn’t noticeable under the black hoodie he wore but you knew. You knew all too well from the countless beach trips and pool days. 

You needed to stop staring before someone caught you. But it’s almost impossible to not stare when your friend is Na Jaemin. How was Jaemin everything you wanted but everything you couldn’t have?

-

“So did you get the right popcorn?” You glance at Haechan as you make your way down the street to Jaemin and Jeno’s shared apartment. He flashes a wide smile as he holds up the family size popcorn box. 

You were running fifteen minutes late because of Haechan’s dilemma on what popcorn seemed the best. You were always in charge of getting the popcorn for movie nights but this time you sent Haechan so you could finish and submit an assignment. “Thank god.”

Walking up the lawn, you drown out whatever Haechan is complaining about beside you as your eyes focus on the door. 

As you get closer, something inside you keeps telling you to retreat, to not go in. 

Leave! Leave! Don’t go inside! Turn around!

You question your internal monologue but proceed to knock on the door. What could that be about? 

Greeted by Jeno, you give him a quick hug before walking in to see the rest of your friends already surrounding the tv. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You quickly say hi to your friends, catching Jaemin’s sweet smile, before moving towards the kitchen to make the popcorn. Ever since the first movie night and Chenle’s terrible attempt at making popcorn and Jisung’s terrible attempt to salvage it, you were put in charge of popcorn when you popped it to perfection after the scarring (and smelly) event.

Unwrapping four bags for the first round, you flattened each one making sure the kernels spread throughout the bags. 

“No wonder the popcorn always tastes good when you make it,” You look up to see Jeno leaning against the counter, hands stuffed into his pockets. “You put so much care into your craft.” He jokes and you can’t help but laugh along with him.

You don’t know when you and Jeno had grown close throughout the years but it was nice to be considered a friend to the boy who was, for the most part, very closed off. You would say out of everyone besides Haechan and Renjun, Jeno had grown closest to you, Jaemin trailing close behind. It was an unexpected duo but Haechan noted that it made sense due to your similar lifestyles. 

“Gotta make sure my boys are well fed.” He rolls his eyes with a laugh while shaking his head, “Yeah cause we’re always starving without you.” You know his sarcasm is laced with a certain sweetness. 

“Help me with the drinks?” He moves towards you as you continue prepping the bags of popcorn before dipping down to be eye level with you. He pinches your cheek while sighing, “I guess” He draws out his words with an annoyed look only making you stick out your tongue at his playfulness. 

You miss the way Jaemin watches the interaction between the two of you, only noticing his presence when he walks up to you punching in the time on the microwave. You feel his stare on you as you focus on pressing the right numbers. You feel small under his gaze.

“Sit next to me?” Your cheeks heat up at the simple question and you can only look down as you squeak out, “Sure.” Jaemin smiles triumphantly. He wants you to sit next to him because you're his friend but he also knows you’re not a popcorn hog like the rest. He misses the very obvious signs of your bashfulness. 

You wonder how someone can be so clueless but you’re thankful nonetheless.

Plopping down beside Jaemin at the end of the couch, you situate the bowl of popcorn on your lap. Haechan and Jeno sit next to you, Mark occupies the single chair near Jaemin’s end with Renjun sitting on the floor in front of him, while Jisung and Chenle lay sprawled across the floor.

“Per the princesses request, we will be watching horror tonight!” Jaemin alerts your group as he starts making his way to the horror section of netflix. You feel Haechan’s eyes staring daggers into your side and you can only send him a hesitant smile while mouthing a quick ‘sorry’. 

“Don’t complain when I sleep in your bed tonight.” You regretted your choice immediately.

The night had gone on like usual. Jisung jumping when Chenle made sudden noises to scare him, Renjun nagging at them saying they’re drawing him out of his immersive experience, Mark laughing at his friends and mindlessly scrolling on his phone every so often, Haechan cowering in fear and holding onto Jeno for dear life as said boy tries his best to push him away.

This left you and Jaemin to exist in your own little world of uncertainties– mainly on your behalf. His arm around you, your head on his shoulder. You can feel his thumb drawing circles into your side when you jump at a scary scene. 

It all feels too intimate to mean nothing or maybe you’re just a chronic overthinker.

By the end of the movie marathon, your group is more than tired. Your body feels so comfortable against Jaemin but you know you need to head home.

“C’mon Haechan, get up.” You nudge at the boy as you stand from your seat. Somewhere throughout the night, Haechan had fallen asleep. He swatted your hand away as he curled more into Jeno.

“Okay, I guess you’re walking home with all the evil spirits tonight.” At this, Haechan shot up with wide eyes. “No! Just give me a second!” 

Saying goodbye to your friends as they leave in pairs, Jeno is the last to hug you before retreating to his room for the night. Haechan was taking forever.

You decided to sit on the front porch, wanting to get some fresh air. You feel a presence sit down and you don’t have to look to know it’s Jaemin. “Hi,” His voice is groggy and laced with tiredness. “Hi Jaemin.”

You look up from your shoes to meet his eyes. It’s his turn to stare for a beat too long. Why is he looking at you like that? Like he feels something?

The silence engulfing you both isn’t normal. It’s heavy and questioning.

“Can I do something and it won’t change anything between us?” His question catches you off guard, your palms suddenly starting to sweat. You reluctantly nod, still looking at him intently. 

Before you know it, the space between you is gone. His lips press to yours as his hand comes up to rest on your cheek. It’s over before you can even close your eyes or kiss back.

He leans back and you watch his eyes flutter open before he completely pulls away. “I didn’t feel anything. Did you?”

What? Was this some sick joke?

In all your years of knowing Jaemin, he rendered you speechless a lot but never like this. 

He just stole your first kiss.

“Why did you do that?” Is all you can blurt out before standing up to look down at the boy. An ounce of you hopes that maybe you misheard him, maybe he did feel something.

Matching your actions, Jaemin stands up, stuffing his hands into his pockets. How could he be so calm right now? It almost made you angry.

“Mark kept saying something about me and you being so touchy and saying things like ‘don’t think I miss the way you both look at each other’ so I wanted to see if he was right.” 

“And?”

“He was wrong.”

You swear you could feel the cracks forming on your heart as a horrible feeling settled in your stomach. You should’ve listened to your instinct. You should’ve never come over tonight.

Unrequited love is one thing but it’s another for Jaemin to confirm it so carelessly, as if he thinks there was nothing there for either of you.

Before you can say anything, Haechan opens the door, interrupting the horrific silence.

You thank the universe that Haechan is more focused on his surroundings out of fear of a ghost attacking him rather than on you. How can you explain the tears threatening to spill at any second?

When you make it home, Haechan holds true to his promise of sleeping in your bed that night. You sit at your desk feeling the need to write or else you’ll explode. 

You find the page with your two confessions written down. While the other pages are jumbled with words, this page remains untouched.

You know his answer, he made it more than clear there was nothing. It’s better to know for certain rather than chasing mindlessly anyways, right? You feel a tear run down and land on the page. 

From now on, you would love Na Jaemin from afar. 

Movie night

He kissed me and said he felt nothing. It feels selfish, what about how I feel? I’m in love with you Na Jaemin.

· · ─────── · ·

When you start getting good at loving Na Jaemin from afar, he starts trying to close the distance.

To celebrate the end of your first year of college, your friends decided it would be a great idea to go to the beach. 

You were excited but you knew this trip would test your abilities of keeping your distance from Jaemin. 

Ever since the kiss, you limited the number of times you were alone, the amount of times you touched, the amount of times you joked and talked. You didn’t want Jaemin completely out of your life, truthfully, that was impossible. But you wanted to give space for your feelings. 

As much as it hurt to admit, you wanted to love him from afar but you secretly hoped your feelings would fizzle out over time. 

Somehow throughout the course of your first year, Haechan caught on to your actions. It shouldn’t have surprised you, he knew you better than anybody. You just thought you were being more subtle than you actually were. 

You finally told him after weeks of pestering but you made him promise not to tell anyone or else he wouldn’t get to be the flower boy at your wedding. That’s how Haechan knew it was serious. He definitely was not telling anybody. 

So although he knew there was no hatred towards Jaemin and he had never done anything horribly wrong, he helped you create distance, always conveniently needing you whenever Jaemin got you two alone or inserting himself and saying he never got to sit near you during movie nights. A complete lie that Jaemin fell for over and over.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, Jeno calls your name. “You okay?” His brows are furrowed, voice laced with concern as he takes your bag to situate it in the trunk. “O-Oh yeah, just lost in thought. Thank you.” 

You watch as the boys pack up the two cars in Mark and Renjun’s driveway. Unfortunately, without Renjun’s minivan (which had died during the first week of college), it was hard to haul eight people on a roadtrip altogether so thankfully Mark and Jaemin had offered to drive this time around. 

“Wanna watch a movie with me on the way there?” Jeno closes the trunk to Jaemin’s car, wiping his hands off onto his shorts. You smile with a nod, “Let’s do it.”

As Haechan and Jaemin come out from the apartment with snacks, Renjun following to lock the doors, Jaemin throws the snacks into the backseat before coming over to you with an easy smile. 

“Do you wanna sit up front? You can pick the music.” The offer stings but not as bad as it could’ve a few months ago. 

Your plan was slowly but surely working. By loving him from afar, you were falling out of love with Na Jaemin.

“I’m actually gonna watch a movie with Jeno,” His smile falters for a second before biting his cheek, “Don’t worry though Jaem, Haechan has a good road trip playlist!”

The tips of his ears feel hot at the use of the nickname you had given him at the beginning of your friendship but why was he annoyed that you were choosing Jeno over him?

-

As your ride to the beach began, you decided it would be easier to sit in the middle seat to be closer to Jeno in order to see his small screen. He lended you an airpod and as he held his phone on his lap, you had a pack of gummy bears in your lap for the two of you. 

“What should we watch?” He asked as he looked into the bag for a green gummy bear. “Let’s watch something funny,” Your hand dives into the bag at the same time as his and you look at each other before laughing.

Jaemin can’t help but look at the two of you through his rearview mirror wondering what could be so funny? And why are you sitting so close to each other? And why, oh my god, why was it bothering him?

“Haechan, what funny movie should me and Jeno watch?” You lean forward, tapping the boy in the passenger seat. He thinks for a moment, tapping his finger on his chin, “Over the hedge!”

“Genius!” 

As the car ride continues, Jaemin can’t tell if he’s overstimulated, irritated, or going crazy. With Haechan’s 2000’s music blaring, the boy singing along and your laughter reaching to the front of the car every so often with whispers between you and Jeno following, he doesn’t realize how hard he’s gripping the wheel until he sees his knuckles turning white.

What is this feeling? He thinks for a moment, ‘am I jealous?’ and he can’t help but scoff at his own idea. Don’t be crazy Jaemin.

Nearing the end of the drive, Jaemin finds himself growing more and more agitated. The last time he looked into the rearview mirror, your head was resting on Jeno’s shoulder as his rested atop yours. You fell asleep like that?

Although Jaemin was never one to be petty for no reason, he found himself taking a turn sharper than he should’ve. He wouldn’t admit it but he was glad to see your head rise from his friend's shoulder. 

“We’re here sleepyheads!” Haechan shouted as the car came to a stop. 

As Jeno opened the door for you both to get out, you're overwhelmed by the smell of the ocean and the warmth engulfing your body. 

You look up at the house before going to help the boys bring in the luggage. This is going to be a long weekend.

Stepping into the entryway, your eyes scan over the layout. An open kitchen to your right with an island in the middle with four chairs and a breakfast nook on the side. To the left was an open living room, the couch being significantly larger than any couch you’ve used for movie night, a flat screen hanging off the walls. Directly in front of you is a long hallway with doors on either side, four to be exact. Two to a room wouldn’t be bad.

You all explore the house for a moment, leaving your bags at the front door.

Upon further investigation, you find a pool in the backyard with a grill, firepit, and large table that would easily accommodate your group. There’s easy access to the beach and a basketball goal near the garage. You decide to walk down the hallway last and notice that all bedrooms have two beds except the last one, the master bedroom. 

Joining the others on the couch, you realize they’re already fighting over who will get the king size bed.

Renjun decides it’s best if they draw names to choose where everyone sleeps and Haechan is quick to find a pen and paper. The boy states it’s best for him to pull so no one can see since he’s sitting at the end.

The others scoff saying he just wants to rig the game.

Haechan starts with the double beds, saving the king for last. 

The first room on the left belongs to Jisung and Mark, they high five at the revelation of sharing a room.  

Next is the first room on the right. Chenle and Renjun get chosen next and even though they both wanted the king, they aren’t upset with being roommates for the weekend.

That leaves two more rooms and four more people. You have a chance of rooming with Jaemin. If it’s the double beds, you can live. If it’s the king, you will die.

Haechan pulls out the first name for the last set of double beds, “Jeno!” he cheers with the boy only nodding. 

Pulling out the next name, Haechan leans back like every other time so no one can see. 

Your leg bounces in anticipation and Jaemin gnaws at his lip, both nervous for different reasons.

You watch as Haechan hesitates for a split second, his eyes flickering up to you. 

Looking down at the ground, you know you’re done for. 

Haechan shouts out your name, your head shooting up with wide eyes. He sends you a secretive wink before calling his and Jaemin’s name out for the king size bed.

So yes, Haechan did rig the game but technically not in his favor. 

Moving to your rooms to unpack, you feel light knowing you won’t have to share a room with the one person you’re trying to, borderline, avoid. 

Jaemin passes your shared room with Jeno and hears your muffled laughter. He doesn’t understand why Haechan purposefully made you room with Jeno. Did you like Jeno? Did you not like him?

Walking into his own shared room with Haechan, he lazily throws his bag onto the bed as he starts to unpack alongside the other.

Silence engulfs the two as if Haechan knows Jaemin sees right through him while Jaemin is searching for the right way to word his question.

“Why did you call her name out when you pulled yours?” Haechan glances up at the boy folding his clothes, his jaw tense.

Quick on his feet, Haechan feeds into what his friends said earlier, “I wanted the king, duh”

“I know you’re lying… what was that wink about? Does she like Jeno?” 

Haechan can only scoff as he closes the drawer, now full of his own clothes, “If that was the reason, I would’ve made sure to put them in here. Trust me, I would’ve made sure she got action.” There he goes, always trying to make a situation light. The thought of you and Jeno together makes Jaemin feel weird. He doesn’t understand why but he doesn’t like it.

“Either way, it’s none of our business.” Jaemin scoffs this time, lazily throwing his empty duffel bag into the corner. “I think it’s my business to know why my friend doesn’t want to room with me?” His statement comes off as more of a question and he watches as Haechan rounds the bed to exit the room, “Not everything is about you Jaemin.” 

Jaemin doesn’t understand when the switch happened. 

You used to be tied to him. You were a duo. You completed each other. You had such a good friendship.

So what happened? Why is Jaemin walking to the pool alone instead of you by his side? Why are you on Jeno’s shoulders playing chicken against Jisung and Chenle? Wait what?

Why are you on Jeno’s shoulders? That’s supposed to be him and you! That’s his thing!

Stepping into the backyard, he watches as you and Chenle push back and forth at one another. He can’t help but wonder if you always look this pretty? His eyes flicker down and his stomach twists seeing Jeno’s hands gripping your thighs to keep you stable. Why did that leave such a bitter taste in his mouth?

He sat next to Mark on one of the pool chairs, watching chaos ensue as Haechan started spraying at both you and Chenle, stating it would make the game more fun. 

Hearing the way you laugh out Jeno’s name to warn him to keep you stable has Jaemin rolling his eyes.

Maybe he’s just in a bad mood today.

For the rest of the day, Jaemin makes an effort to be near you but he picks up on how you turn down his advances. Cuddle on the couch? ‘Sorry I’m going to help Mark… gotta make sure he doesn’t burn the kitchen down’. Wanna watch me grill? ‘I was actually gonna play a game of horse with Chenle while we wait’. Sit next to me at dinner? ‘Sure!’ but then Haechan conveniently sat next to him, leaving you to sit between Renjun and Jisung. 

That last one really wasn’t intentional, Jaemin just thinks everyone is out to get him now.

Something that has really been bothering him is the fact that you haven’t been blushing at his compliments. He always figured you were blushing because you were shy with praise but he was just oblivious of how you only blushed when he said something nice, meanwhile you would simply say ‘thank you’ with a smile to anyone else.

The question still plagued his mind, When did everything change?

He had never realized it but he really liked the way your eyes shined when you looked at him. How you followed him around and how you were ready to jump at anything he suggested. He liked you right next to him. 

Now your eyes are getting duller, you’re not sticking to him at all and you’re turning down every suggestion he sends your way, you haven’t been near him this whole trip. And now that he thinks about it, you haven’t been by his side for a few months.

And when he looks up from his plate he wonders if you were always this beautiful. Did his heart always beat like this?

His eyes flicker to your lips and he can't help but think back to the night he kissed you. Was he nervous that night for fear of losing you as a friend or did his fast heart rate mean something else?

Shaking his head, he focuses his attention on Mark who’s saying something about going to the beach tomorrow.

Haechan says a joke that he doesn’t quite catch but his eyes move to yours, wondering if you’ll look at him the way you always do after someone says something funny. 

His stomach drops and he thinks he’s gonna be sick. Your eyes shoot straight to Jeno’s as you laugh together.

Jaemin is in trouble.

· · ─────── · ·

The next morning is when you stop loving Na Jaemin from afar.

Waking up, you’re blinded by the lights peeking through the curtains. 

Groaning as you stretch the sleep from your body, you turn your head towards Jeno’s bed to see him already facing you with a lazy smile. “Hi.” His voice is groggy, laced with tiredness. 

“Hi Jeno.” you flash your own lazy smile before continuing to stretch under the sheets.

The whole interaction feels like deja vu to you but you shrug it off. 

Today was a new day. Today you felt lighter. But most importantly, today was beach day. 

Taking turns with Jeno in the bathroom, you both get ready for the day before heading out to the kitchen to prepare for the long day.

Realizing you were the first two awake, you take it upon yourselves to cook breakfast for everyone. 

You and Jeno work well together. Where one lacks skill, the other makes up for it. You’re good with eggs and dicing fruit, he’s good with meats and getting the perfect toast on bread. 

While focusing on cutting the rest of the fruit, Jeno comes up behind you with a slice of bacon between his fingers, “ahhh” he mocks to alert you to open up. Skillfully taking the bacon from his hands with your lips, you hum at the taste. You shoot him an ‘Okay!’ sign with your fingers as you continue to chew and he flashes his signature crescent smile. 

You mirror his previous actions, bringing a piece of pineapple to the boy’s mouth, “ahhh” you copy and he laughs before biting the fruit in between your fingers. He closes his eyes at the sweet and tangy taste. “Delicious!”

The rest of the boys file into the kitchen, creating their own plates as they fuel up for the day. Jeno and you continued to snack on breakfast as you started to tackle the sandwiches for the beach.

It was weird how you and Jeno worked so well together. You knew you were alike but the fact that you could easily pick up where each other left off, finishing the task the way the other intended– it was fascinating to you. 

“Jeno can you pass me–” His hand appeared in front of you with the head of lettuce suspended in the air. You look at him to see he’s still focused on spreading condiments on the bread. “Thank you.” You glance at him one more time to see a soft smile on his lips. 

Jeno had always been attractive. He was handsome and sweet but with the way he always matched your energy, you couldn’t help but congratulate the lucky person he’d end up with. 

Turning around as you finish your last sandwich, you notice Jaemin staring at you. This time though, his stare doesn’t make you feel small and all of a sudden your heart beats normally under his gaze. You flash him a smile before continuing to pack the sandwiches into a bag. 

Watching you and Jeno work together to prepare everything for the day, Jaemin wonders if you two had always been like this. Did you bounce off each other just as easily as you and Jaemin had? 

Thinking back to that one movie night where he walked in on Jeno teasing you before helping you with drinks, Jaemin reluctantly agrees that yes, it’s always been like this for you and Jeno. Had he simply not cared until now or had he been bothered this whole time?

He can’t help but notice that shine in your eyes. But this time it’s not directed at him, it’s only when you focus on Jeno.

He thought about it a lot last night, his mind not allowing him to sleep. All he could think of was you. 

Na Jaemin has come to the conclusion, he likes you.

-

When you finally finish fighting against the sand as you make your way towards the ocean, hauling supplies and chairs, your group starts to set everything out. 

While Haechan and Renjun argue over how to set the umbrella up, Jisung is already leaving to go look for shells with Chenle following right behind him. Jeno and Jaemin set up the chairs while you and Mark set out a big blanket to sit on. 

“You seem happier these days,” the boy starts as he flattens out his side of the blanket, “like your consciousness isn’t being weighed down.” You look up at the boy as you finish your side and you can’t really grasp onto what he means.

Mark had always had this ‘talk in riddles, be philosophical and then move on like it didn’t happen’ way of reaching out to people. He knows things without having to be told and you know Mark Lee has you read front to back, fully memorized– just like he has all of his friends. 

“I guess I have been happier,” you start as you scan your group of friends scattered around. Your eyes land on Jaemin and you can’t tell if the love you feel for him is romantic or platonic. But it doesn’t scare you. The thought of not being loved by Na Jaemin doesn’t hurt anymore, “What do you think changed?” Your question is mindless, not expecting an answer.

“I think you finally like someone who likes you back.” The statement rolls off his tongue, bounces your way, and smacks you right in the face.

Your eyes subconsciously flicker to Jeno. 

Before you can say anything, Mark is already moving to settle the quarrel between Renjun, Haechan, and the umbrella. 

Eyes locking with Jaemin, he smiles and you can’t help but smile back. Something in your heart is telling you not to run away from Jaemin anymore, that there’s nothing to hide– nothing to protect.

You don’t have to love Na Jaemin from afar anymore. You can love him upclose– the same way you love the rest of your friends.

-

Jaemin notices the switch. 

Compared to yesterday, you entertain his conversations and you’re by his side. But he notices it all– especially the fact that it’s all half-hearted.

Truthfully, it’s not half-hearted. You let your guard down with Jaemin for the first time in months. He only views your actions as half-assed because he’s so used to being the center of your universe. But now he’s just like everyone else. To you, Na Jaemin is just another friend. 

Nonetheless, he’s thankful you’re not avoiding him anymore. It makes him feel giddy when you laugh at his jokes or lean your head on his shoulder for a moment. When you flash him a smile he can’t help but feel lightheaded and when you shout his name he feels hot all over.

Is this what it feels like to like someone?

He eyes your figure now laying out on the blanket as you mindlessly play with its loose strings, listening to whatever Haechan is talking about. 

Jisung sits beside you as he places the shells he collected along your back in a spiral pattern. The boy makes a very important note to you, “stay still”.

“You look like a creep staring at her like that,” Chenle leans over to whisper in Jaemin’s ear. His face goes red as he whips his head to look at the younger, “I’m not staring,” he defends but his voice is so weak, Chenle almost lets a laugh slip before continuing to joke, “You’re not the only creep. At least he’s more subtle about it.” Jaemin follows Chenle’s nod and his eyes lock onto Jeno’s figure, looking at you with the most lovesick gaze he’s ever seen.

“It’s getting hot, I wanna get in the water!” You whine out. The closest any of you got to the ocean today was Jisung and Chenle’s shell collecting and truthfully, you do not count their fingers grazing wet sand while running away from the waves as getting in the water.

Jaemin hesitates before he decides to speak up but he’s cut off.

“I’m almost do– Jeno!” Jisung screams as Jeno quickly gets up, grabbing your hand and pulling you up, knocking Jisung’s shells all over the place.

Jaemin watches you scream as Jeno throws you over his shoulder, running towards the ocean with Jisung chasing after him screaming about how he’s going to drown the older boy.

He watches as his friends get up and follow after the three of you and he wills himself up to follow.

When did Jeno get so confident but more importantly, when did Jisung get so loud?

It dawns on you that you really love your friends. As you watch the boys splash one another and Jisung holding true to his promise of trying to drown Jeno, sure enough you feel at home.

You float on your back, letting the water hold your figure as you look up at the clear sky. 

Today felt like a rebirth for your emotions and you were thankful. Head not clouded by the same boy anymore, you had the opportunity to explore new connections and the thought of it was thrilling. 

“Hi,” you slightly move your head to see Jeno swimming up to you and away from the chaos.

“Hi Jeno,” your tone is teasing, dancing on the fact that you’ve already had this same encounter today. 

You feel him mindlessly drip water onto your exposed stomach as you continue floating. Your cheeks flush a soft hue of pink at the change in energy. 

“You look really pretty,” The shyness in his voice catches you off guard, causing you to look up at the boy. His cheeks mirror yours, dusted lightly with pink. 

Before you can respond, he continues, “Can I ask you a question?”

Jaemin watches from afar and wonders what you’re talking about.

He finds himself battling internally with whether or not it’s morally okay to pursue you while knowing his best friend might also have feelings for you. Jaemin believes he has a better chance because in his eyes, you’ve always been closer.

Little does Jaemin know, you’re already far out of his grasp.

-

That night, you all decide you’ll make use of the firepit as Chenle says he’ll order some food delivery and s’more supplies. 

You had gone back to your room to change before going to the backyard but you felt silly when you realized you really hadn’t packed anything warm considering it was Summer. 

“Do you wanna wear my hoodie?” You hear Jeno’s voice from across the room and you look up to him already holding out the enticing material. He must’ve noticed the way you kept running your hand up and down your arm for warmth

“Are you sure? You won’t get cold?” He smiles with a nod as he walks over to you, “Just wear it,” You take the hoodie, throwing it over your tank top. Your thank you comes out muffled but he hears you just fine, “Sit by me as a repayment though.”

You nod with a smile as you follow him out to the backyard, his hoodie engulfing you like a blanket. 

Sitting down next to Jeno, he drapes a blanket over the two of you before beginning to impale a marshmallow. 

“I’ll make this one for you.” Jaemin overhears Jeno’s good deed and he can’t help but feel like he’s watching an out of body experience. The scene looks all too familiar to him, feels too familiar to him– like you and him had done the same exact thing once.

He catches your eyes from across the fire– you shoot him a playful smile that he can’t help but return. The way the light from the flames move across your features make Jaemin’s heart race and he swears he can see the light dancing around your eyes, making them even more beautiful.

How had he never noticed before? You’re so beautiful.

-

Before you know it, it’s the next day and you’re packing up to leave.

Watching as the other boys climb into Mark’s car, you let your head rest against the seat with a lazy, but satisfied smile plastered on your lips. You hope you all can do this again before Summer’s over.

In the backseat with Jeno right next to you, scrolling for another movie you can watch together, you can’t help but let your eyes follow through the window and up to the house with a smile. You thought this would be a long weekend for other reasons but in the end, you’re wishing the trip didn’t feel so short.

This trip was good for you and your heart. 

Jaemin starts the car, glancing at you through the rearview mirror with a soft smile. He made up his mind last night. He doesn’t think there is anything wrong with him pursuing you, if anything– may the best man win. He swears he has a whole plan on how to win your heart.

Unfortunately for him, Jaemin misses the way your pinky finger is intertwined with Jeno’s. 

-

When you make it home, you don’t miss the way both Jeno and Jaemin hug you a beat longer than usual.

Saying your goodbyes as you and Haechan walk up to your shared apartment you feel a sudden need to scribble more in your journal. 

This was a turning point. This. This was monumental.

Beach trip

My heart finally knows its place with Jaemin. He’s a great friend. 

· · ─────── · ·

Jaemin is four drinks in when he realizes he’s in love with you.

To celebrate the beginning of your second year of college, your friends, mainly Haechan, deem it appropriate to turn movie night into a gathering to drink. 

At the moment it’s just six of them, you and Jeno missing from the group.

Jaemin wonders where either of you could be. Jeno had mentioned going out today but didn’t tell him where. Ever since the beach trip, the boy seemed to always have something to do on Fridays but Jaemin never paid much attention to his whereabouts, though one time he checked the boy's location out of pure boredom and saw him at the mall which was strange. 

The only information he had on your whereabouts was Haechan saying you’d be late, so truthfully, he knew nothing. 

Over the summer, things between you and Jaemin had gone back to normal, sort of. You accepted his touch, you hung out with him one on one, your banter was back and forth, you were by his side. 

He thought he was doing everything right. He was drawing you in slowly but surely. It was gonna be so perfect.

But he noticed the way you didn’t let your touch linger longer than it needed to, how it wasn’t him you sat next to during movie nights, how you still looked at Jeno instead of him when something was funny.

They had started drinking without you two, Haechan assuring that the early bird always gets the worm– or something like that. 

So as Jaemin finishes the last of his third drink, he’s starting to feel his tongue become more loose. “Where are they? Is she gonna be okay walking here alone?” 

The others can only murmur ‘i don’t know’ with shrugs, “They probably stopped by the apartment so she could change,” Haechan states, taking another sip from his drink. 

What? You’re together?

Putting his empty can down, Jaemin reaches for another, cracking it open, “They’re together right now?” Jaemin feels strange but he chalks it up to the alcohol.

“Yeah? They go out like every Friday… They leave me all alone!” Haechan pretends he’s been wounded as he cries into Renjun’s shoulder who can only roll his eyes at the boy’s dramatics. 

“What do you mean?” He feels himself clenching his can tighter, trying to use what’s left of his sober consciousness to navigate what Haechan’s saying.

“Dude, does Jeno not tell you anything? Ever since the beach trip he’s been waltzing into my apartment every Friday and stealing my best friend like I’m some sort of wicked witch!” Haechan scoffs at his own statement, “He’s a friend stealer!” Haechan shouts but Jaemin could care less.

So that’s where Jeno’s been every week. With you. 

All Jaemin can let out is a soft and confused, “What?”

As if on cue, the front door opens and his eyes shoot up from his can. There you are in all your glory, Jeno’s hand wrapped in yours.

Jaemin swears he’s about to have a heart attack as he feels his chest clench in such an uncomfortable way. He thinks he can feel his heart being ripped to shreds and he wonders if you can feel so torn apart about someone you like. 

He concludes that no, you cannot be this torn up about someone you like so with a heavy heart, the boy admits to no one but himself, 

He is in love. 

· · ─────── · ·

It’s weird how your sophomore year of college feels oddly similar to your freshman year.

The only difference is that you’re walking hand in hand with Lee Jeno. 

You don’t know when the switch occurred but you noticed Jaemin distancing himself from you. At first you figured he was trying to be respectful of your relationship but when he stopped inviting you out and jumped at the feeling of your skin on his, you knew it was something more.

In fact it was.

The tables had turned, the roles reversed, the ball in the other’s court but never to be served.

Na Jaemin started falling in love with you at the exact same time you were falling out of love with him. For his own sake, the boy had no choice but to start loving you from afar.

To you, Na Jaemin is a wonderful friend but to him, you are his whole world.

a/n: and scene! thank you for reading⭐ p.s. - thinking abt writing a jeno au from his pov in the same universe! lmk what you think <3

[bananayuyu]

All in Black

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 7.0k

Summary: Who knew grad school would bring you the hottest man you'd ever met?

Warnings: MDNI, smut, fingering, anal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (oops), alcohol consumption, I think that's all

A/n: That damn black tank does things to me... this was severe self indulgence, I hope y'all enjoy <3 (I didn't edit this one so sorry for mistakes)

Read it on ao3

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The first month of grad school, it hit you like a train.

Maybe you had partied a lot in college.

It really would depend who you asked. It was what everyone around you did, as far as you could tell. At least you avoided the worst of it, the blackouts or harder drugs or strange off campus house parties where no one knew anyone. At least you stuck to your friends, the dorms, the familiar safety of campus. You'd had fun; you were young, in need of time, exploration, a chance to see the world and all it had to offer. Maybe that meant a few too many shots, sometimes, or a regrettable hookup or two. Maybe it meant hauling your best friend away from that stupid boy she was hung up on, stumbling back to your dorm in a fit of giggles and tears.

Maybe you thought you were over it, by the time senior year came. The summer after graduation you spent working, and with so many of your close friends already off to their new lives, you'd gone out less and less, staying in instead and preparing for your future.

Maybe this was growing up, you thought.

But the new city had you questioning everything. It had you missing those messy nights, those tight dresses and uncomfortable heels, those looks you shot your bestie when you knew someone was coming on to you. You miss indulging in it all, missed talking in hushed tones to the tall, gorgeous history major and asking him every possible question you could till his eyes had scanned every inch of you. You missed giggling at night in the dorm, keeping each other up with replays of your messy make-outs in the halls, an RA sternly barking at you to get your 'obviously drunk asses' out of there. And you missed hands on your hips, lips on your neck, that feeling of being so lost in someone you forgot every single thing you'd studied that day...

Why had he been on your mind so much the last three weeks?

Maybe it wasn't just the new city, that had caught you in your head and spun you for a ride.

"Hey, are you busy tonight?" your best friend called across the living room as you stood by the stove, mending your stir fry. Her face was buried in her phone, legs crossed over each other as she lounged on the purple couch, your shared apartment the epitome of colorful and girly.

"No, I don't think so, why?" you asked, adding noodles to the pan, a sharp hiss following as they hit the sizzling surface.

"Well, Mingi just texted me..." she trailed off, and you knew her face was scrunched up in an adorable smile, even though you couldn't see her.

"Oh really? He did?" you responded, laughter filling the air between you.

"He said they're having a little party at their house tonight," she continued, sitting herself up and finally looking your way.

"And?" you asked, making eye contact with her, your eyebrows slightly raised.

"He said he hopes to see me there," she laughed, brushing her long hair out of her face.

"And you need me to come for moral support?" you joked, turning off the heat on the stove and moving to grab plates from the cabinet.

"Well, yeah, that, and also, he said-" she paused a moment, grabbing her phone again and opening it. "He said, and bring that little friend of yours, Yunho wants to see her again."

"Hannah," you sighed, eyes shooting her way. "Don't fuck with me, I'll go with you to wing-woman, I don't mind."

"I'm not fucking with you, seriously! Come look!" She held out her phone, and instantly the plates were forgotten as you walked over. Leaning down and squinting at her phone, you peered at the texts on the screen in front of you.

S.M.G: We're having a little party at our house tonight, I hope to see you there S.M.G: Oh and Han, bring that little friend of yours, Yunho wants to see her again

And as you stared at the screen, another text came through, followed by another.

S.M.G: Sorry if calling her your little friend sounds mean S.M.G: That's just what Yunho called her, so, yeah. And she is quite little

"Oh my god," you laughed, shaking your head and standing. You feigned disinterest, more to yourself that your best friend, but you couldn't deny that seeing his name made something in you flip with excitement.

"What?" Hannah asked, but her question was answered as soon as she peered at the new texts herself. Then she laughed again, prompting you to ask the same question.

"What?"

She just turned her phone to you, and you squinted again.

S.M.G: You're both quite little. A pair of little chicks S.M.G: Sorry, idk what tf that was S.M.G: We'd love to see you both

"Girl, he's so obsessed with you," you chuckle as you stand, making your way back to kitchen.

"He's so weird," she says behind you, but you hear the adoration in her voice, hear the way she can't fight the smile that's forming.

"Don't pretend you don't love it," you responded, finally grabbing the plates now, grabbing some noodles from the pan for each of you.

"Ah, shit, I burnt it a bit on the bottom," you said, the slightly bitter smell wafting up to your nose.

"How will I ever survive," Hannah cried, a hand coming to her forehead as she swooned into the couch again.

"It's your fault for distracting me with those damn texts, missy," you shot back, fighting off laughter.

"My bad," she sang out behind you, and when your faces met she was pouting.

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"I know you're not really into partying anymore," Hannah said, as you both stood at the sink, washing and drying your dirty dishes.

"I guess not," you replied, looking over to her.

"What I mean is, if you don't want to come tonight, you don't have to. I just always invite you to everything, you know. Cause I love to have you there. But it doesn't mean you have to come." The sappiness wasn't surprising from her; you'd never expected to become best friends with your randomly-assigned freshmen roommate, but every since the day you'd met you'd learned what being best friends with someone could really feel like. The unending support, the companionship. She almost felt like more than you deserved, sometimes.

"Does it seem like I don't want to come?" you asked.

"I just, I don't know if Yunho did anything weird last time we were there, or anything, and I don't want you to feel pressured to go there if he did."

"Oh, Han, no. Nothing weird happened."

"You just hadn't said anything about him, so I wondered if, I don't know, he made you feel weird."

"You're too sweet for this world," you replied, shaking your head at her worry and sincerity.

"So you just don't really like him?" she asked.

"No, I-" you stopped yourself, remembering that night from three weeks ago. "I've just been busy as hell since then, we haven't really had a chance to just sit down and talk. And-" you hesitated again, a thought suddenly bubbling up quickly within you. "He also only talked to me for like ten minutes that night, I'm surprised he's telling Mingi he wants to see me."

"It sounds like he's obsessed, too," she replied, giggling.

"I don't know about that," you sighed, but you couldn't help the slight color that rose in your cheeks.

"Oh, girl, please. Of course he is," she replied, nudging your hip with hers.

"We'll see, I guess," you chuckled, drying the last of your dishes, placing the hand towel back on the handle of the oven. "I hope he likes black dresses," you laughed, and your best friend gave you a knowing smirk, making her way to her room to grab her outfit and makeup for the evening.

You'd both noticed it immediately when you'd met, how you were literally exactly the same size. The clothes sharing started pretty much immediately, and it was convenient at first, as laundry days were hard to come by freshman year. The first time you went out you both laughed as you realized you owned the exact same little black dress; and maybe it was surprising, maybe it wasn't, but you both loved it. You hit the party that night dressed almost identical, your matching brunette waves flowing in the breeze behind you as you made your way to the frat house. You looked so similar, everyone that night had trouble telling you apart. So you kept doing it; every time you went out, you matched your outfits in some way, even if it was minor.

Then during sophomore year you both gained just a little bit of weight at almost the same time, and it really felt like the universe telling you something. You both went out to shop for new dresses together. Those old ones from high school just didn't fit your now twenty year old bodies, and it was time for a change, anyway.

It had been a while since you'd been out, so you both knew. It was those matching scrappy black dresses you'd be wearing, those ones that hugged your curves so perfectly and made you feel like a perfect little barbie doll. You'd pair yours with your plat form Mary Janes; Hannah would be in her favorite black strappy heels, the ones that made her a few inches taller than you.

It was a joyful hour, getting ready. You hadn't sat down to do a full face of makeup in so long; you couldn't even recall the last time, which must have been nearly a year ago, at this point. You were almost certain you'd both show up overdressed, but you were having too much fun. You added heavy liner to your eyes, a glittery highlight to your cheeks. Hannah drew a tiny heart on your cheek with her gel liner, and you put a pink kiss on her cheek, reapplying your lipstick after you did.

"Do you wanna pregame at all?" she asked you as you both finally pulled on your shoes, the final touch to your outfits.

"Honestly, I don't even feel like drinking tonight," you laughed, looking up at her.

"Dude, me neither. My stomach's been all sensitive today," she said, grabbing your black purse from the hook it rested on.

"Your period is coming, then," you said, laughing at the way her faced scrunched up.

"You read my body better than I do," she pouted, reaching inside your bag to check in the inner pocket. "I'm gonna go get some tampons to put in here, just in case. Then we'll go, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll put your phone and keys in here," you said, grabbing the purse from her, as she walked to the bathroom to grab the tampons.

<><><><><><><><><>

You both knocked on their front door, the wood sounding dull and flimsy under your fists.

The graduate student housing wasn't exactly brand new, but the boys had made a good effort of making the inside of their place nicer than most. You'd only been over a few times, but you'd seen everything the bottom floor had to offer: their kitchen, living room, and Mingi's bedroom, and the bathroom that sat right beside it, just past the stair case.

The three bedrooms upstairs were a mystery to you, but judging by how clean they kept the bottom floor, you'd bet it wasn't as much of a disaster up there as one may expect.

It certainly surprised you the first time you were here. You and Hannah both walked in apprehensive that day.

"Hey! Come on in," Mingi answered the door, his wide smile flashing with a hint of mischief as he eyed Hannah up and down, the two of you walking in underneath his outstretched arm. "Glad you guys could make it," he said, nodding in your direction, an arm reaching out to take your purse.

"Can you put it in your room? It has my stuff in it," Hannah said to him, flashing doe eyes up in his direction for just a second, her lips in the whisper of a pout.

You almost couldn't contain the laughter, at watching Mingi fight off the smile on his face, how he looked so entranced by her already and it'd only been a few seconds.

"Of course, Han," he replied, stepping past you to put it where she'd asked.

With him out of sight you both finally took in your surroundings; a small party might have been an understatement, though it wasn't a rager by any means. There were more people in here than you expected, though, and you definitely realized you hadn't overdressed. Now you were very thankful you'd decided to go full out tonight; there must have been some special occasion being celebrated, because almost everyone was dressed to the nines.

"It's on my bed, if you need it," Mingi said as he returned, a hand sliding around Hannah's waist as he moved next to her. The two got lost in easy conversation immediately, but your eyes continued to trail across the space, across the living room full of people, peaking into the side of the kitchen that you could still see.

"Yunho's in the kitchen, y/n," Mingi said, and Hannah giggled, making you realize he'd had to say it twice.

"Oh, thanks," you nearly blushed, chuckling at your own lost thoughts. It had been a long, long time you'd been to a party with more than thirty people in attendance, and suddenly you realized you did miss this, even if you felt like you shouldn't anymore.

You squeezed Hannah's hand, then started snaking your way through the house, through the throng of people chatting and dancing in the living room. You had to bump past two tight groups of friends, all dancing and laughing and nearly spilling their drinks on each other, and the last time you did the girl turned around, eyes wide with apology.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" she said, grabbing onto your forearm briefly to steady herself. "I didn't see you there, you're so short!" Her words slightly slurred together, and her cheeks were the pinkish red that always accompanied a pale girl with one too many shots in her. It wasn't even that late yet; but you'd met this girl before, had a thousand conversations with her. You held back your laughter, as you always did, but couldn't help finding the whole thing adorably hilarious.

"You're good, it's fine," you said, making to talk past her again, but her arm didn't leave yours.

"You're so pretty by the way! And adorable! I meant you're short in a good way!"

There it was. The thing you missed most about running into random girls at parties, the way they shamelessly complimented you within an inch of your life if they'd had enough to drink.

"Oh, stop, you're so sweet!" you called back, leaning in to give her a quick hug. "Your dress looks stunning on you, by the way." Her hips were hugged by a dark blue satin number, which balanced against her pale hair and pale skin so beautifully.

"You should come dance with us once you get a drink!" she said, a huge smile breaking across her face as her friends all agreed, more of them shooting compliments your way.

"Definitely, I will!" you called, but just then the music swelled, and you couldn't hear each other as well, and maybe you were a little thankful for it. You bid her and her group goodbye, finally making it across to the kitchen. You peaked your head back a moment, catching Hannah's eye, Mingi's face low and next to her's as he obviously whispered something in her ear. You could see her cheeks redden even from across the room, and she winked at you quickly, before turning back around to him to respond.

Already you felt drawn into it all, and you hadn't seen him yet. You might go and dance with those girls later, you might not. You had no idea where this night would take you. R&B played through the speakers in their living room, and your hips swung on their own accord, the beat too groovy to ignore. You watched on for a moment as Mingi and Hannah got lost in each other, then turned towards the kitchen again, getting lost in a sight of your own.

There he was, just as Mingi said. In the kitchen, an arm outstretched above his head as he grabbed a stack of glasses from the highest shelf of their cabinets. His black tank left the muscles in his arm exposed; you could see his shoulder flex as he reached high, his bicep bulge as he brought the glasses down, balancing the heavy stack. There were two guys behind him, and one by one he poured them glasses of wine, each of them taking two as they exited the kitchen.

He still hadn't seen you, but you couldn't stop staring. As he leaned down into the open door of the fridge you caught the muscles in his back flex, and now you saw the tight black jeans he was wearing, his thighs on full display for your hungry eyes. On his feet were his black sneakers, ones you'd seen plenty of times, his favorite shoes. And just then as he stood up he caught sight of you finally, doing a subtle double take as he set down the beer he'd just grabbed on the counter.

"Hannah's little friend is here," you said as you finally walked closer, coming to rest your hip against the counter he was standing at, a few feet down from him. He raised his eyebrows in amusement, a tiny smile forming on his full lips, as he looked you up and down.

"Hey stranger," he said, cracking open his beer sharply, tossing the bottle cap in the sink. He stood and took a big swig, his opposite hand sliding in his pocket as he leaned back, the bubbles in the bottle fighting for escape. You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, watched the way he wiped an extra drop from his lip once the bottle hit the counter again. His skin was almost shiny in the yellow light of the kitchen, and you could swear you could smell the sweat on him, the slightly musky smell making your insides flip more than once. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Got anything non-alcoholic?" you asked, already laughing at the question. His face screwed up in hesitance for a second, but then he turned to open the fridge again, peering through the shelves of beer and seltzers and random leftovers.

"Water?" he asked as he stood and closed the door, looking at you incredulously.

"That's fine, that sounds good," you chuckled.

"You want ice?" he asked, peering at you sideways, taking another quick swig of his beer.

"Sure, thanks," you breathed, so caught up in the sight of him, in his broad shoulders and chest just feet from you. You got to see his beautiful left arm again as he reached up for a glass, and he noticed every bit of you staring; he looked back over his shoulder as he filled your glass from the fridge door, catching your wide eyed gaze and making you feel caught out.

"So why haven't I seen you in three weeks?" he asked as he handed you the glass, your fingers brushing over each other for a moment. Against the ice-cold glass his fingers felt electric, your whole arm coming alive under his touch.

"What do you mean?" you responded, looking up at him as you took a sip, eyes trained on him.

"Hannah's been over every weekend," he answered, and you tilted your head again, your question still unanswered. "I though you two were kind of a package deal."

"We don't go everywhere together," you answered, rolling your eyes at him. "We're not that co-dependent. Plus, you know, her and Mingi..." You gestured with your hands, as if they could speak for you.

"Her and Mingi what?"

"They're dating, of course she's over here every weekend," you said. He just hummed in response, giving you an unreadable look. "What?" you asked, narrowing your eyes playfully.

"I told you to come with her, whenever you felt like it," he continued, taking another long drag of his beer.

"I've been busy," you shot back, not sure why it felt like he was probing, but enjoying the chance to play fight a little, if that's what he wanted.

"Oh really?" he eyed you, eyebrows raised. A mischievous glint ran through the deep brown of his irises, and it made you shiver in your tiny dress.

"I am studying literature, I do have to actually read a lot," you said, drawing out the syllables in the word.

"Ah, I see, I had no idea," he drawled back, rolling his eyes at you.

"I thought you might relate to that, mister," you answered, looking up at him with innocent sincerity.

"Of course I do, history is basically all reading," he responded, eyeing you. "But Saturday nights are my time off, to relax."

"How responsible of you," you joked.

"You should try it sometime."

"What, relaxing?" you asked, and he nodded his head. "Do I not seem relaxed?"

"Tonight you do," he chuckled, eyeing you up and down again.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, arms crossing over your chest. You could see his eyes dart down for a moment, knowing the position was pushing your tits up even higher and making them nearly fall out of your tiny ensemble.

"Last time you didn't seem, you know, like this," he said, eyes coming back up to meet yours.

"Why, cause my dress didn't leave nothing to the imagination?"

He nearly spit out his drink, laughing at that. "No, cause you left so early."

"Cause I had work to do. And you just walked away, so..." you trailed off, now eyeing him with confusion.

"I told you I'd talk to you later, I had to help Jongho with something," he said.

"Yeah, and that doesn't at all sound like an excuse to walk away," you retorted, rolling your eyes again.

"Woah," he said, a soft look of genuine shock on your face. Maybe that last sentence had come out a little harsher than you'd meant it to, but you couldn't deny that it was disappointing when he'd done that. You'd told yourself that day it was just how things go. You wouldn't always get the person, even if they seemed definitely, totally into you.

As your thoughts wandered, Yunho kept his eye contact, even as a fellow partier stumbled through the kitchen to grab a seltzer form the fridge, nearly bumping into the two of you. You watched as they left the kitchen, a short sigh escaping your lips without you meaning for it to. As you met Yunho's eyes again he was still staring, still fixed on you so sharply.

"What?" you asked.

"You look really good in black," he said, smirk hitting his lips as he took another sip from his drink.

"Oh my god," you chuckled, shaking your head, but deep down all you could think was so do you.

"Let's stop arguing and go dance," he said, lifting up your glass of water to you, gently turning your shoulders with his hands and pushing you in the direction of the living room. You resisted, a little; you could't help it, and it made him laugh, that deep, sweet sound echoing in your ear as he pushed you just slightly harder.

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It had been too long since you were squeezed in the middle of too many dancing bodies, smashed between people you barely knew.

As the night turned darker the boys turned up the music, the playlist changing to more hip hop and pop, the whole room lighting up with singing and rapping and cheers. You were smashed between Yunho and Hannah, and another girl whose name you couldn't hear over the music, even as she screamed it at you. It didn't take long for Yunho's hands to find your hips, or your hands to find his arms, his chest, his stomach.

You couldn't keep them off of him. Not when you were pressed together and you really had no other choice. You were thankful for your water then; the room was hot and sweaty with so many bodies in close quarters, and the heat of Yunho's body against yours was doing nothing to help the sheen forming on every inch of your skin.

It was magical, just what you needed. You had missed this, you really had. You kept reaching out to your best friend, singing and dancing and screaming with her, hoping she understood that really what you were saying was thank you, thank you, thank you so freaking much.

It was intoxicating, but there was something missing; you hated to admit it, but thrashing about in a group of people just wasn't the same without a little buzz. You didn't need much, but the slight light headedness and warmth in your chest that always accompanied a drink or two was just the thing to take a night like this from great to amazing. You knew you'd need to sneak out of the sea of bodies soon, and head back to the kitchen to find something good. But you'd wait till this song was over, wait until the bodies weren't so chaotic in their movement.

But then you stared up, at the high cheeks in front of you, at the deep chocolate eyes and dirty blonde hair, and had another idea. As he raised his beer to his lips you reached up to grab it, and in the shock of the moment you were able to snatch it away too easily. You brought it down to your level, taking a deep swig of it, the taste more bitter and sharp than you were expecting. But it was not unpleasant; if you had to guess it was a nice beer of some kind, not something cheap and flimsy.

"Hey, I thought you didn't want any alcohol!" Yunho called down to you, trying to reach for it.

"I do now!" you yelled back, smirk on your lips as you took another long sip.

"Hey, hey, that's the last bottle of the nice German beer my uncle got for me, y/n-"

But you cut him off, spinning in an instant and making a run for it, wanting nothing more than to finish this precious beer right in front of his eyes, and see what he'd do about it. It was a challenge pushing through the crowd, but you were at an advantage; you were quite small, and could duck under raised arms and flailing drinks. Behind you Yunho didn't fare so well, his height a massive disadvantage in this moment.

Once you broke free of the crowd you found yourself near the front door again, and with nowhere else to run you made for the stairs. Your platform shoes weighed heavy on your feet as you climbed, but the adrenaline coursing through you did wonders to propel you up the stairs, your breath barely affected as you crested the top. You could hear heavy footsteps behind you now, and you shrieked in terror, a deep laugh drifting up through the air behind you. Suddenly you found yourself somewhere you'd never been before, and unsure of where to go next you just kept running, a bit down the hallway stretching out in front of you.

He was closing in now, you could feel it, but you were having too much fun with the chase to let this go. A door to your left was ajar, and on a whim you decided to run through it, knowing full well it was probably a dead end. As you busted in you realized it was the upstairs bathroom, your hand met with the cold tile countertop by the sink. You spun and braced for impact, taking the beer again to your lips to try to finish it all, savor every last bit of it.

"Fuck you," Yunho grumbled as he stumbled in after you, shaking his head and grabbing the beer from you with ease, this time. You hadn't managed to finish it; instead he was the one to do so, with a long and drawn out swig and multiple glugs, his gorgeous neck out in full display for you. A nightlight sat in the corner and bathed you both in a soft purple light, and in the shadows you could see every crease and line in his shoulders, his muscles looking even more defined. With a final glug he slammed the beer on the counter beside you, suddenly caging you in with his arms, his face now only inches from yours.

And even though a part of you was nervous, trembling under his gaze, you couldn't help but smile and giggle up at him, the frustration in his eyes doing nothing but turning you on further.

"Did you want to fight, tonight?" he laughed, eyes boring into yours as he refused to move, even though you squirmed beneath him.

"I don't think so," you laughed, giving him your best innocent eyes, biting your lip between your teeth.

"You're so weird," he chuckled, finally breaking, stepping back up and away from you with a shake of his head.

"I'm not the one who wore a black tank top to a fancy party," you shot back, eyes snaking down the entirety of his form in front of you.

"Oh, you think I look bad?" he joked, his tone thick with sarcasm.

"I didn't say that. Just a surprising choice," you responded, raising your shoulders ever so slightly.

"I just got back from the gym and people were already showing up, I didn't really have time to change much," he shot back, arms crossing over his chest this time.

"Oh wow, the gym," your responded, mouth opening as you feigned amazement.

"You should come with me sometime," he said, adjusting his stance.

"Why, so you can stare at my ass while I do squats?" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

"You..." he trailed off, shaking his head as his hands came up to his hair, running through them quickly.

"What?" you asked, anchoring your hands behind you on the counter, staring up hard at the tall man in front of you.

"What do you want?" he asked, head cocked to the side, his tone dropping some.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want me to kiss you? Or are you mad at me?" he asked.

"Can you really not tell?" you responded, batting your eyelashes up at him and pushing your chest out, your back arching off the counter slightly.

"Fuck," he muttered, and in an instant the door to the bathroom was closed tight, and he was stalking over to you with a harshness in his gaze that you weren't expecting.

You couldn't have prepared yourself for how it would feel, his soft, full lips on yours, his huge hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist. Immediately you were arching into him, pulling hard at his arms and abdomen, begging him to come closer and smother you with all the lust and warmth he had. His breath was hot in your mouth, making the rest of you feel cold and needy, and your body trembled beneath him, your movements growing more deperate. He deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping through your mouth as his hands lowered, digging now into the flesh of your hips and ass, his own hips now flush with your center as you shameless ground around one of his legs. He reached down and pulled you up, sitting you not he counter in front of him, your back flush with the cold mirror behind. HIs hand came to cradle the back of your head, his mouth devouring yours as he nipped at your lower lip, pulling back to start sucking marks into your neck and leaving you a panting mess.

You raked your hands through his soft hair, the salt on your skin tasting wonderful as he worked his way down, brushing his tongue along your collar bone and making you moan in response. You could already feel yourself soaking your dress; you had no thought of the consequences now, his thumbs brushing over your already erect nipples that now pushed against the thin material of your dress.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he groaned as he pulled back front you, watching your body writhe underneath his touch, his hips humping into yours to try to relieve some of the strain in his pants. "You promise me you'll tell me if you don't like anything?" he asked, nearly panting out the words.

"Of course," you managed beneath him, blinking open your heavy eyes to meet his. "Do everything to me, please?" you begged, already so lust filled you couldn't think straight.

"You sure, baby?" he chuckled in response, watching a small bashful smile form on your lips, the sealing indication that you truly meant what you just said.

"Come here," he said, pulling back his hands from your chest, your body nearly limp from all the stimulation. He pulled you down from the counter again, and just when you thought he would kiss you again, he turned you around, pressing on your lower back to make you arch, forcing you to place your forearms on the counter. You were now face to face with yourself, and could see everything; your eyeliner was smudged, your lipstick smeared from the kiss, and your hair was even curlier than you'd remembered it being when you left your place a few hours ago.

You looked a mess, that was certain. Like someone about to get fucked in the bathroom of a house she barely knew. And that turned you on even more, seeing the greedy, selfish look in your eye, knowing you were finally getting what you'd really wanted these last three weeks.

"Of course, no panties," Yunho chuckled from behind you, using his hands to hike up the bottom of your dress and pull your ass into view.

"Oops," you laughed below him, finally looking up from your own face to watch him in the mirror, his eyes locked down and full of an intensity you'd never seen before. God, you fucking loved that black tank on him, loved seeing his shoulders flex while kneaded the flesh of your ass, his face hard and focused. And then he finally moved his right hand lower, tracing his fingers around your slit before pushing one in you, the pleasure crashing through you in an instant.

"Fuck," you moaned, eyes rolling back as you tried to keep holding yourself up.

"You like that?" Yunho asked, his eyes now trained on your face in the mirror, the pure bliss emanating from your open mouth.

"Yeah, fuck, yeah," you moaned again, his finger now moving in and out slowly, his other hand still anchored on your back and keeping you in place.

"You want more?" he asked, and you nodded furiously, your breath so deep and fast now that you could barely answer him. He slid in another finger, and then another; you could feel the stretch, your cunt swallowing his long fingers with a hunger you couldn't explain. You just knew when you'd first seen those hands that they'd feel good buried inside you, but now that you were here you couldn't believe what you were feeling. He was better than anyone you'd ever been with, his fingers curling inside you in just the right way to have you trembling and coming in just minutes.

You moaned loudly, pussy clenching hard around him, and Yunho watched with near disbelief as he saw the muscles of your cunt fluttering, your tight hole above it staring him in the face. "Did you come already?" he asked, and you could only whisper a quick yeah in response, the aftershocks still wracking through you. "Fuck, you're so sensitive," he groaned, hips bucking into your leg as his cock grew more and more painfully erect in his tight pants.

As the fluttering in your cunt slowed he pulled his fingers out, now drenched in your juices and glistening in the soft light of the bathroom. He couldn't keep himself from running them over the tight ring of muscle above, your body immediately nearly folding at the contact. It felt too good, your ass getting rubbed just after you'd come so hard, and you nearly collapsed onto the counter in front of you, your head hanging lax as you moaned.

"You like getting your ass touched?" Yunho said behind you, watching the way the muscles of your ass and thighs clenched as he kept rubbing in small circled, smearing your slick all over you.

"Yes, more, please," you begged beneath him, shoving your lower half further in his direction, arching your back even more. "Please, both, ahh," you moaned, as he tested the waters with one finger, pushing it into the tight ring of muscle.

"You want me to fuck both your holes?" he asked, and again you could barely get out an emphatic and breathy yeah, your moaning increasing again as he pushed the finger in, your ass having to stretch to accommodate it.

"Fuck, you're so dirty," he groaned, using the slick from your cunt to fuck his finger in your ass, slowly picking up his pace again. He experimentally added another finger, and the stretch was excruciating; the pleasure and pain swirled around each other, making you cry out, your body trying to reject the added pressure. "You can take baby, I know you can," Yunho chided behind you, his free hand coming to unbotton and unzip his pants, pulling his boxers down just enough to pull out his hard and leaking cock, it's weight hot in his hand.

Finally your body relented, letting the two fingers split open your tight hole, and your wails turned more towards just moans. You felt a tug on your hair; Yunho pulled your head back, making you face the mirror again, your face even more flushed and messy than it was all those minutes ago.

"I want you to watch yourself while I fuck you, okay?" he asked you, but you knew it was more of a command than anything. Yes, you answered him, the pain and pleasure from your asshole clouding your brain entirely and making you pliant underneath his touch. Then he sheathed himself, his huge cock bottoming out inside your still soaking cunt, and you just about blacked out from the pleasure, your mind flying high off into space.

"God, fuck, you feel so good," Yunho groaned behind you, pumping his hips hard and fast, his fingers matching his pace. He'd waited three long weeks to see you again, and couldn't force himself to wait any longer to chase his pleasure. He fucked you hard, the slapping of skin filling the room as he pounded into you, watching your cunt and your asshole getting filled over and over. You did as you were told, keeping your head up, but you couldn't have seen a thing if you tried, your brain so utterly fucked that your eyes could do nothing but hang heavy and low. The whole room was a haze; Yunho could see it, how you'd gone to a whole different plane of pleasure, how you were loving how rough and domineering he was being. The fucked out look on your face was almost too much for him to handle; and then when your cunt starting clenching down on him again, he couldn't stop himself. He came hard, just as you did, the two of you trembling together in your immense pleasure. Slowly you felt his hot cum filling you up, his fingers slipping out of your ass so he could grip onto your hips with both hands, burying his cock as deep as it could go.

<><><><><><><><><>

As you finally stumbled your way back down the stairs, you knew you looked crazy.

You'd tried what you could to fix your hair and makeup, but even with Yunho's help you looked an obvious mess. Maybe it should have bothered you, but you couldn't help not caring as you walked back down to the party, Yunho's hand on your low back as he walked beside you.

"There you are!" Hannah called to you, snaking her way through the now thinner crowd of people. "I thought I might have lost you," she said, draping arms around you, the smell of something sweet on her breath.

"Just upstairs," you responded, fighting the smile forming on your lips.

"Hey, guess what?" she asked, pulling away, still keeping an arm around you.

"Hmm?"

"My period started," she sighed dramatically, head hitting your shoulder.

"Oh my god, I knew it," you laughed in response, falling into her.

"Thank god I brought those tampons," she laughed, head lolling back up to it's normal position.

"Hey, guess what?" you now said, eyes wide.

"What?"

You leaned in close, hand coming up to cover your mouth. "We just fucked," you whispered, the two of you falling into giggles immediately.

"Oh my god, yayyyyyy!!" your best friend responded, jumping up and dancing in a circle, grabbing your hands to pull you into her dance, too.

It wasn't long until you all cleared out, the night growing very dark and late and your bodies growing tired. You'd had everything you'd missed tonight; the partying, the fun, the sex. But most of all you had the best night cap ever with your bestie, recapping everything to her, minute by minute, till you both could barely speak anymore and fell asleep on the living room floor.

[fastandcarlos]

My Little Graduate : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: you're all prepared to graduate with your family by your side, and an unexpected extra sneaking into the crowd

“There she is...my little graduate!” Max cheered as he watched you walk through the crowd of people, opening his arms up and inviting you straight into the room. 

You were lifted up of your feet as soon as Max’s arms wrapped around you, your hand reaching up to keep a hold of your cap that was on the top of your head. Max pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek before pulling away, studying you closely. His hand slipped into yours as he twirled you around, his eyes drawn to the wide smile on your face. 

It was everything that Max wanted to see, after watching you stress and suffer for so many months, he was finally seeing the proper you in front of him again. 

“You’ve got no idea how proud I am of you,” Max smiled, taking both of your hands into his, “you’ve worked so hard to get that moment today.” 

He was in awe of how hard you’d worked, relentlessly researching, typing, proofreading, whatever you needed to do in order to get yourself your degree that you’d dreamed of for so long. Max was hardworking himself, but nothing could compare to how hard you’d pushed yourself. 

Little did Max know the part that he had played though. The constant late night visits, dashes to the shop to help you, offers to read over what you’d written to make sure that it made sense in your sleep state.  

“Graduation suits you too,” Max complimented, taking a closer look at you. 

The slight breeze blew your gown up slightly, showing off the dress that you wore underneath. The finishing touch for Max though was the cap that you wore on top of your head, the one thing you’d talked about wanting to wear for so long, and at last it was finally yours. 

“I can’t believe I’m dating a graduate,” Max smiled, keeping his eyes firmly on you. “How does it feel to finally receive the recognition that you deserve?” 

“This is the moment I dreamt of when I sent that application in all those years ago,” you chuckled, smoothing down your gown. “There were plenty of moments too when I was sure that I wasn’t actually going to see the end of this degree.” 

There had been many conversations between you and Max when you felt like giving up. He was there every time though, reminding you of how hard you’d worked and how rewarding it would be if you saw it through to the end. 

He wasn’t sure at the time whether you truly believed him, but now as you celebrated your moment, he was relieved that you had listened and stuck it out, no matter how many times you wanted to turn around and say no. 

“I always knew you’d get here,” Max shrugged, as if it was the easiest thing in the world that you’d achieved. “There was no doubt in my mind with that incredibly smart mind of yours.” 

Your hands rested against Max’s chest, tilting your head back to look up at him. “I don’t think I’d have got to this moment without you, you’ve always been my biggest cheerleader.” 

As your eyes met Max’s, you couldn’t help but smile, reaching up and taking your cap off. You twirled it in your hands before placing it on top of Max’s head instead, taking a step back so that you could admire how well it suited him. Although your degree was yours, Max had played a huge part in it too. His smile turned up as he positioned the cap so that it was straight, allowing you to pull your phone out and take a picture of him. 

Once he had it, Max didn’t want to take it off, finding himself quite comfortable with a graduate cap on his head. He knew it was never going to be his, but he didn’t take for granted how appreciative you were of everything that he had done for you over the past couple of years. 

“You deserve to wear that for a moment,” you told him, handing it back as Max went to take it off. “It probably doesn’t compare to all those fancy trophies that you win on a podium, but that to me is probably the biggest trophy I’ll ever earn. So, I want you to hold it, like you tell me to do with yours.” 

“This is all yours,” Max protested, taking the cap and popping it back onto the top of your head. “I’m just enjoying the fact that there’s so many graduates around here today, and yet I’m dating the best one.” 

“I’m emotional enough as it is today without you getting soppy.” 

You hit hard against Max’s chest as his arms snaked back around your frame. He pressed a kiss against the top of your head, blocking out everything that was going on around you. Despite the hundreds of names that had been read as people walked across the stage, there was only one that meant anything to him. 

A hand poked against your side, dragging you out of your daydream. “What’s the plan now that you’ve got a super official degree to your name?” 

“I guess I have to go and get a job now,” you chuckled, “I can’t study and travel the world supporting you forever, as nice as it’s been for the past couple of years.” 

“You’ll still come to some races though, won’t you? Even though you’re going to be busy?” Max nervously asked you. 

It didn’t matter how career driven you were, there was no way you were going to stop going to races completely. Depending on what direction you were about to go in, you knew every race would be impossible, but if there was any chance that you could get there, then you absolutely would. 

“Wherever you go next, I’ll be supporting you,” Max assured you, “and wherever that place is, I know you’re going to go on and do absolutely amazing things too.” 

“I should probably go and collect a few more degrees to try and match all your world championships.” 

“Yours is a lot more impressive than mine,” Max grinned. 

Your eyes narrowed back at him, “millions of people get degrees, but there’s only one champion of the world, and that just so happens to be you.” 

Although you had a point, Max was still far more impressed by what you achieved then what he had. He was at the top in his field, and he knew now that the world was your oyster that you were absolutely going to rise to the top of your field too. 

“I really am proud of you,” Max told you once again, kissing against your forehead. 

“I know you are,” you giggled, “it’s taken a lot of blood, sweat and tears to get to this moment, but I’m so happy that we’re finally here.” 

“I’m just looking forward to having you back, without the stress, the late trips to the library,” Max couldn’t help but joke, “it’s just going to be you again, with that big, beautiful smile on your face.” 

Your eyes widened as Max spoke, “are you suggesting that I’ve been stressed and stroppy over the past few months?” You challenged. 

“Love, you’ve been an absolute nightmare.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[le-poofe]

Finally~

I wanted to make a little something to say "Thank you for reading" to cap off WYS! Excuse me while I get mushy for a second-

Y’all are the reason this was able to get done. Your enthusiasm for updates and how the story unfolded really means so much to me. It was the little things that kept me motivated, even during the long hiatus. Seeing you guys pick up and point out little details sprinkled throughout the comic always made my day and gave me a sense of validation. Reactions to things like the surprise of Sans’ nightmare or Grillby’s comfort all made me super happy. And you guys gave the finale pages the sweetest reception I could ask for. l'm so grateful that you stuck around for the whole thing!

Overall, I’m very pleased with how this turned out! Interestingly, the main thing I’d want to change if given the chance is how I wrote Sans and Grillby themselves. Especially Sans’ dialogue. My characterization of them has changed quite a bit over the years (hard to tell bc I don’t draw them a lot atm). But that can’t really be helped. Just like the way that my art style changed over time. Hindsight does that stuff all the time. Nitpicking aside, I stand by the creative decisions made by 2019 Me

The funny part is that the original comic was 17 pages and I got them all done before hand so I wouldn't run into the issue of falling into a hiatus between pages!!! If y'all are interested in a bts post, I’ll try to dig up those og pages from my old computer. And maybe I'll show the even rougher epilogue draft I threw together for shits and giggles to see if I could get the page count to 69

Sansby has already been super special to me for a long time, finally getting this done and seeing the response strengthened that. I’ve had so many people find me through WYS over the years, it blows my mind. The messages from people who hold it dear really means the world! Without you guys this comic wouldn’t be what it is now. Thanks for Staying~

[sofiatarot]

Pick a card: Messages from loved ones watching over you

TIP JAR - FREE READINGS - PAID READINGS

1->2

3->4

Not long ago, I lost someone I loved deeply... someone who had been with me for many years. When their spirit decided to leave their body, I was devastated, desperate to hear something from them. I missed them so much and searched for comfort, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Nothing felt like them.

It was then, in the midst of the storm, that I decided to quiet myself, to stay still and listen to my own intuition. Using the cards as a tool, a guide, I was able to connect with the love I had been yearning for and more grateful than ever, I decided to try and share this little piece of heaven I had accessed.

When I connected with them, I thought about others who, like me, feel they lack closure and are left with their hearts in their hands and so much love to give.

To anyone who needs it, as much as I did back then, here it is: messages from a loved one who has passed away.

With all the respect and love in the world, I hope you know that you are not, and will never be, alone.

Now, take a moment to just breathe, ground yourself, connect to your intuition and choose the group that draws you in the most.

Group 1

Your loved one speaks to the uncertainty you've been feeling lately. They see the fear that clouds your path and the questions you hesitate to ask yourself. Their message is this: trust your inner wisdom. You’ve always had the answers within, even if they feel obscured by doubt. There’s a quiet strength in stepping away from situations that no longer serve you, even if it feels like leaving behind a part of yourself.

This soul was someone wise in life, perhaps introspective or spiritual, and they want you to know that moments of confusion and hesitation are natural. They encourage you to embrace the unknown, as clarity comes not from rushing forward but from allowing the truth to reveal itself in time. Don’t fear the fog—it’s temporary.

They see the decisions you’re grappling with and urge you not to overthink. Choices made from the heart will always guide you to the right path. You may feel pulled in multiple directions, but balance is key. Release the fear of failure; every twist of fate is a lesson in disguise.

This soul wants to remind you that you’re not walking this journey alone. They’ve seen the moments where you felt stuck, as though life was spinning out of your control. Even in those times, they were quietly supporting you, nudging you toward growth. You are more adaptable than you give yourself credit for.

They encourage you to release the need for perfection. Allow yourself to take bold steps without fearing judgment. You’ve been watching and waiting for the right moment, but sometimes action is the only way forward. They promise that courage will lead to clarity.

Above all, they want you to know that peace is within reach. They send you love and patience as you navigate this period. Trust that the tides will turn in your favor, and know they are proud of your strength and resilience.

Group 2

Your loved one sees the challenges you’ve faced in maintaining harmony with those around you. They know you’ve been giving much of yourself, sometimes to the point of exhaustion. Their message is simple: give as much love and care to yourself as you give to others. You can’t pour from an empty cup.

This soul had a steady, grounded energy in life. They might have been someone you relied on for wisdom or practicality. They encourage you to find a balance between giving and receiving. It’s okay to ask for help or to say no when your energy feels depleted. They remind you that boundaries are not barriers—they are acts of self-love.

You may feel stuck, as though a new beginning keeps slipping from your grasp. They urge you to release the frustration and surrender to the timing of the universe. Sometimes, the things we want most require patience. Trust that your path is unfolding as it should.

This soul has noticed your efforts to resolve conflict, whether internally or with others. They see the peace you’re trying to create and applaud your willingness to choose understanding over anger. Keep trusting in the power of compassion—it will lead you to lighter days.

They also ask you to let go of perfectionism. There’s no need to carry the weight of comparison or feel like you’re falling behind. You are exactly where you’re meant to be. Focus on the small steps and celebrate every victory, no matter how small.

Finally, they want you to know that they’re proud of the person you’re becoming. They see the strength it takes to keep going, even when the road feels uphill. You are never alone; their energy is with you every step of the way.

Group 3

Your loved one acknowledges the emotional turmoil you’ve been navigating. They know you’ve been questioning your choices, especially in matters of the heart. Their message is this: be kind to yourself. You’re learning, and every step you take—no matter how uncertain—is leading you toward a deeper understanding of yourself.

This soul feels like someone passionate and bold, someone who wasn’t afraid to live fully. They want you to embrace that same boldness. Don’t let fear of judgment or failure keep you from pursuing what sets your soul on fire. You have so much potential waiting to be unleashed.

They see the moments when you’ve felt trapped, whether by your own expectations or by the opinions of others. You have the power to break free, but it starts with letting go of the need for external validation. Trust your intuition and take control of your destiny.

This soul knows you’ve been carrying old wounds, especially from relationships. They urge you to forgive—not for the sake of others, but for your own healing. You deserve to move forward without the weight of the past holding you down.

They remind you to nurture yourself. You’ve been giving so much energy to growth and transformation, but don’t forget to rest. Balance is essential, and true change comes when you honor both your light and shadow.

Above all, they want you to know that you’re loved—by them, by the universe, and by those around you. Your journey is far from over, and they’re excited to see the incredible things you will create.

Group 4

Your loved one sees the loneliness you’ve been feeling, even when surrounded by others. Their message is this: you are never truly alone. They are with you in the quiet moments, in the small signs you notice—a song, a scent, a memory. Trust that their love remains with you, even if you can’t see them.

This soul feels like someone joyful and warm, someone who brought laughter and light to those around them. They want you to reconnect with your inner joy. Life doesn’t have to be so serious—let yourself celebrate the little things and find beauty in the everyday.

They see the walls you’ve been building around your heart, out of fear of being hurt again. They urge you to let those walls down, even if just a little. Vulnerability isn’t weakness; it’s where true connection begins. You have so much love to give, and the right people will cherish it.

This soul knows you’ve been feeling stuck, as though your plans aren’t coming together the way you hoped. They encourage you to trust in divine timing. The delays you’re experiencing are not failures—they’re redirections toward something even better.

They also remind you to lean on your community. You don’t have to face everything on your own. There are people who want to support you, but you need to let them in. Don’t be afraid to ask for help... it’s a sign of strength, not weakness.

Finally, they want you to remember that life is a journey, not a race. Be gentle with yourself and take things one step at a time. They’re cheering you on from the other side, proud of every bit of progress you’ve made.

thank you, xoxo 💖

[kalims]

⭒ㅤnot gonna lie !

premise. pov prefect opens a ngl, except! the story they shared it from can only be viewed... by one person!

characters. first years

ace

not gonna lie ! smash tbh

unironically pretends that he never sent one when you start bombarding him.

uniquewhere: i didn't even see ur story

shrimp: [attatchment]

uniquewhere: i have no wifi to see that sorry not sorry

vehement denial is actually the most effective defense according to him. even if it bypasses all forms of realism, it's not real if he doesn't believe it to be! <- real life advice from ace trappola guys.

if you haven’t already guessed, he can indeed see the picture you just sent and just assumes his very first form of defense… no amount of proof will remove him from his little ball of: “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

you gotta prepare some kind of miscrosoft presentation, and sit him down. though he will 100% do that thing where he plugs his ears in with his fingers pretending he doesn’t hear anything even though it doesn’t block out you reading out the words.

“here is the real, actual screenshot of my replies—”

“I NEVER EVEN SAW YOUR STORY.”

“ah, good! next slide after this is the views of the story!”

deuce

not gonna lie ! i like you

very demure, very straight to the point is deuce.

he would've written some long ass paragraph in all honesty but he just can't because he sees what he writes, deletes it, then cringes to himself.

atleast with that one he has the excuse for whichever scenario that might randomly ask about it.. (yes, he's thinking that far) weird flex but ok

1. "you ever confessed to your crush?" someone asking

2. "yeah sorta....." deuce

3. "???" someone confused

he was feeling reaaallyyy proud of himself. the anxiousness finally settles down, alongside with his rapidly beating heart. even if it isn't a real, confession it still brings him a bit of peace.

shrimp: I know what you did

tokyodefenders: WHAT?

there goes his heart rate.

like, you did not offer context to any of that but he's still gonna think you somehow, actually do know even if you didn't provide an explanation to... whatever it is you know about him!

tokyodefenders: whaTEVER IT IS IS NKT TRUE

shrimp: please, ur breaking my heart

shrimp: I like u too :(

heart? ascended

he's not even gonna question it. all his braincells got dumped out, and all he can focus on is that particular message. he isn't even gonna remember backtracking about the ngl cause he's gonna be like:

how did they hack my keyboard.. are they tracking it?! LOL

"I'm a mastermind,"

"HOW DID YOU KNOW?!?!" <- deuce, scared for his life.

jack

not gonna lie ! stop getting into trouble. I'm not always there to pull you out

is concerned with how many times you've managed to unknowingly walk into trouble, jack had been lucky enough (yes, him. not you, cause knowing you, you wouldn't be too phased) to be a near constant presence when the shenanigans during the tournament concluded, he stuck to you then.

as in reluctantly following around you like a tail. narrowing his eyes at the less than friendly faces often wore around you, that you were... well, amazingly oblivious to. or maybe you acted like you didn't know, the carriage didn't pick you up for nothing if you were here in nrc.

shrimp: do u rlly think I'm a troublemaker?

iheldheroncejacob: yes

the random topic being brought up went completely over his head. jack probably had forgotten he'd given the link to your story the time of your day, in all honesty

shrimp: well maybe I keep getting in trouble so u can rush in, and pull me out?

iheldheroncejacob: you're a terrible friend then

shrimp: :(

in retrospect jack is able to keep up with joking around, usually. but it's so hard to take you seriously that he takes whatever you say with a grain of salt, you're almost always tipping between flat sarcasm, or calm nonchalance between your words. it almost always has something to do with the people you're with.

the heartslabyul prefect for example, you take a kind, subtle undertone of teasing to (which is crazy, because you're scarily tame in the presence of the vice-dorm head.) and then you're all stony faced when you're with someone you don't like.

^ and you obviously don't dislike jack, if the little selfish, presumptuous nrc part of him would like to claim confidently so... would you really be joking?

only does jack realize the connection between your text, and the ask he sent when he's just finished his laps.

"I'm not your guard dog! why would you even get in trouble for that, next time I'm not even gonna spare you the time cause—"

"what a pee brain."

"what? don't compare my brain to a tiny pee—"

epel

not gonna lie ! CAN I PLS TRANSFER TO RAMSHACKLE AHHHH

you've never met anyone who's disliked being sorted into whatever the dark mirror fitted their 'soul' into as much as epel.

even without the private story only limited to his response, you're sure you could pick out his message and put a face to it.

epel, in his defense, still has savanaclaw as number one in his heart. though upon asking jack if it was possible to transfer there, the latter confirmed but it was... a tedious process, and suggested asking rook, who literally came from savanaclaw!

the boy only spared his friend a side glance before scurrying away. no use traipsing around that...

but of course, getting away from pomefiore is only a goal! always being near your proximity was a biiiiig bonus!

shrimp: hey I need ur files for the dorm transfer

catchwhathands: [escapeplan.jpg]

catchwhathands: I knew u wanted me in ur dorm!!

shrimp: actually I don't. ur the one that asked ;)

catchwhathands: who cares. I'm finally getting out of this hell YEAHHHH!!

shrimp: who said I was gonna use the files you sent?

okay, admittedly the moment he'd sent over the files, epel shut his phone, and quite literally did a victory lap around his room. making sure to frolic so vil has less chances of hearing his chaos...

the dorm leader woke up so easily from noises that you'd think rook was the reason he developed such a habit.

probably.

epel was already planning the plan! he could see the vision! maybe he could plant around ramshackle since it is a pretty big area. you guys would be together for the remainder of the year—and he'd finally bump the adeuce duo from their pedestal!

*ping*

"AGHHHHH STUPID FRIGGIN'—"

"epel!"

"sorry..."

sebek

not gonna lie ! since it is a request for unbridled honesty, I shall deliver what you've requested. you have done so without much thought, clearly! if you've given such leeway for... criticism! you, human, could use a lot more educating in terms of the glory of our eternal lord, the glorious malleus! in accordance to your previous, description of our relationship. the farthest I can give is acquaintance, but I shall only call you a companion (AKA friend) if you are atleast educated about my interests! as the good companion you desire to be!

woo, alright. he really wrote all that...

oh, uh oh.. you just got another ask from him, maybe even longer..?

shrimp: what would that make silver then

rizzvolt: my brother in arms!

shrimp: but hey, actually I do want to know

rizzvolt: ah! finally! I knew you atleast have some common decency, and sense. for that I shall agree for your request in our friendship! these are the most accurate ones pertaining the great lord malleus' biography! [link] [link] [link]

rizzvolt: is that enough? I will send you more, but only if you finish these three. I will test you rigorously to confirm that you are indeed genuine in your interest!

why he has all that, you have no idea.. if only he displayed that much dedication for his studies...

shrimp: I don't wanna learn about malleus

shrimp: I want to learn about you

rizzley: how dare you! the lord's name should only be addressed with a: 'lord', 'the great', 'the

...

sebek stares at his screen, just in the process of finishing his... educating sentence, because even in text, malleus should only be treated with the highest form of respect!

have you no integrity?! he wonders.

only then does he focus on your response, does he make a rather... dubious sound of shock? sebek doesn't know why he breaks into a cold sweat as he runs the sentence through his mind a hundred times in the span of a minute.

what is this... some sort of human illness? or maybe love—

of course he'd never even consider such a thing! (just did bro)

shrimp: sooo.. since you sent me an ask, does that mean you actually like me?

shrimp: sebeeeeekk.. did you actually read?

with the speed of lightning (and the adrenaline maybe, what else could this frantic pounding of his chest explain besides that you are indeed, dangerous!) he opens the story on your media

'send me an ask if you like meeee :)'

sebek promptly falls over.

[luveline]

I need more Hotch x teacher PLEASE, I’ll take anything 😭🙏🏻

Mr. Hotchner —call me Aaron, he always says, because he’s a bully— walks across the school grounds with his son stuck to him. 

According to your colleagues, Jack used to be more outgoing. Not extroverted, but friendly, with many friends and lots to say. But after the passing of his mother a few years ago he’s become a quieter child. It’s not uncommon to see him glued to his father or his Aunt Jess before school. 

You tuck your hands in your cardigan against the early summer morning chill. “Hello,” you greet as the Hotchners approach. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning,” Aaron says. His smile is a rare and lucrative sight; whenever he smiles at you like this, as though you’re some wonder he’s happened upon accidentally, it betters your whole day. 

“Good morning, Jack,” you say, a gentle prompt to see what mood he’s in. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi, buddy. You got your reading diary filled out?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Me and dad read Marlo again, I hope that’s okay.” 

You bend just a bit to be smaller, “You can read anything you want to.” 

“Dad says so too.” 

You and Aaron share a look. “Dad’s always right, huh?”

Jack nods emphatically. Aaron edges a half step closer to you, looking as though his hand is itching where he’s tucked it in his coat pocket. There’s something in it, you realise. He pulls it out and offers it to you covertly. 

“You left this behind,” he says. 

It’s one of your bracelets. You open your palm and let him tip the bracelet into your hand, curling your fingers closed, but not before the brush of his thumb has made you miss it against your cheek. 

“Oh, wow, I assumed I lost it.”

“No… it must have fallen down between my bed and the nightstand.”

You glance around, not as covert as you wish you were. It’s not that you and Aaron can’t date, but you perhaps shouldn’t, and besides that things are so new between you that it isn’t anyone else’s business either way. Plus, you have Jack to think about. He doesn’t know you’re seeing his father yet. 

You smile gratefully and tuck the bracelet into your pocket. “Thank you.” 

“Jack!” a blonde little girl called Sadie races up to you all and smiles wide. “Do you want to come and play with me? I want to try cartwheels before we go in.” 

Jack looks up at Aaron, who nods and leans down. He kisses his unwrinkled forehead. “I should be going soon. Be good today, okay?” 

Jack says his love yous as he jogs away with Sadie, his lunchbox forgotten in Aaron’s hands. “Want me to take it?” you ask. 

“Oh, yes. Please, honey, if you don’t mind.” 

Again, his hand brushes yours as he hands it over, his skin a reminder that he’s touched you now, and kindly, gentle fingertips trailing down your back as you dozed with your face against his chest. He’s so… perfect, in a way, such a caring person, you’ve never felt like this about someone. His proximity makes you wish you could go home with him now or follow him to work. It’s an achy feeling without being sore. 

“I never mind.” You watch him carefully as you talk, “It’s nice to get to see you every morning.” 

“It would be even nicer if we could’ve had the whole morning together,” he says agreeably, fondly. “Did you check your calendar for me? How are things looking next weekend?” 

“Very open for nice men who bring me jewellery.” 

“Don’t start,” he says quietly, his hand twitching toward yours, “or I’ll blow our cover.” 

“I wish you could.” 

“Me too, honey. I’m going to talk with Jack about it again this weekend.” He beams. “I wonder if he’ll change his tune this time.” 

When Aaron brought up the idea of you and him together to Jack, it had been as a simple hypothetical: How would you feel if me and Miss L/N wanted to be friends, Jack? 

He was ecstatic. Then we can see her all the time! he’d said. Aaron’s next port of call is to introduce the g-word. 

You and Aaron meet eyes, looking at one another, his hand creeping closer and closer to your side. He takes the end of your cardigan into his hand and feels it between his fingers, the slight touch, slightest movement of the fabric against your shoulder sending a shudder down your arms and chest. 

“Can I see you tonight?” he asks. 

“You aren’t busy?” you ask, surprised.

“Of course I am, I always am. But I think I have to see you.” 

Oh, you have to, you could tease. But you really need to see him too. “Just text me when you want me and I’ll be there,” you say, looking away from him toward the children and their racing. 

You’re glad you aren’t looking at him when he next speaks. “I always want you, but I have to go. Have a good day, honey, alright?”  

Jack’s lunchbox creaks in your hand. A funny soft kiss would be nice here, his smile pressed to yours. Maybe one day you’ll get one out in the open. “Thank you. Have a good day, too, Aaron,” you say, only looking up at him when you’re sure he’s crossed the school grounds to the parking lot. 

He looks back over his shoulder to you twice. 

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 2

Hii! Here is the second chapter. I will post the chapters when the next one is either 50% or 90-100% ready, based on how long it has been. Hope you enjoy!

previous<< Chapter 2 >>next

Breakfast became awkward as soon as you shyly walked in, hunger beating the desire to stay hidden in your room- in hindsight, maybe you should have. They were chatting so eagerly, laughing. You wanted that too but as soon as you peeked through the door the noise stopped. It was like the first day of kindergarten. Lonely, your palms were sweating with anxiety, and- and you missed your mom.

You tried introducing yourself to Richard, but you were met with a hum and one singular glance, no interest from the older boy, your supposed brother. Bruce- you’d rather him not look at you at all. It was like he was trying to read your mind and dissect it.

By the time you had it in you to speak again, to try and create some bonds, it seemed like they couldn’t get away fast enough. They both looked so tired. You’d think they would have taken their time. Your eyes meet Alfred’s icy blues once the room is empty.

“Do they hate me?... Did I do something wrong?” Alfred’s whole body flinched at the question, unseen by the untrained eye. The old man felt pity, a bit of guilt for the way he, himself, acted. But the mask of indifference he’s been trained for years to keep took its place once more.

With a gentle hand, he did his best to soothe her worries. Bruce could never hate a kid, Alfred was sure… He hoped he was. Alfred shook his head- no, he shouldn’t doubt his child- Master Bruce. He shouldn’t doubt Master Bruce like that. He knows better. The old man cleared his throat. “Here, young miss. Master Bruce wanted you to have this. Just like Master Dick has.” His explanation of what and how to use the little black card and the modern phone came just as quickly as his try at making connections between the two kids.

“Giving a kid unsupervised access to so much money and the internet sounds like a bad idea.” Your mumbling made Alfred’s lip twitch. It was and he said as much, but it was what Master Bruce wanted, and what he wanted he got… usually.

And with that, Alfred left too. You understood why he left; he seemed to be the only employee. Taking care of such a big house all on your own must take all day, and to have to cook as well… Poor man, Bruce mustn’t like him very much either. He was old, ancient to your five-year-old self, maybe you could help with something.

After finishing your meal, you take the dishes and carefully put them in the sink. You wanted to wash them but sadly, the counter was taller than you. Instead, you focused on cleaning the table and pushing the chairs back into their place.

Bruce must have gone to work, and Richard to school. Your brows furrowed and your lips stuck out in a pout. You were supposed to go to kindergarten. Neither of the adults seemed worried about that, and you didn’t know how to get there either, so it must be a deliberate choice. Maybe it was closed. Or maybe they forgot.

Your feet carried you across the manor, from the withered garden to the many floors of the cold house, relying on the whispers from the shadows to know what door you can open, and which way you should go. They were leading you in a specific direction, you knew, but what else could you do but listen? Not like you had anything else to do or anywhere to be.

You stopped as soon as the shadows stopped whispering. The overlapping murmuring going silent made the room feel colder, and yet your amazement at the object before your eyes filled you with the warmth and hope you needed to survive another day. It was a simple thing, a painting.

A couple, a woman sitting on a chair and a man standing tall beside her. The position on any other would seem imposing, controlling even, but the hand on her shoulder wasn’t gripping her. It was a tender caress of care that reflected in the man’s face as a gentle smile and his eyes fixated on the woman, his wife. The painter did a great job of portraying the love and softness the man held for his beloved, as they did for the warmth in her smile and mischievously happy gleam in her eyes.

She was beautiful, full of life. Her dress was silky white. Must have been painted on the day of their wedding. She was the perfect picture of elegance as beautiful, shining pearls adorned her neck and the bottom of her dress, and yet… Her eyes seemed as sad as they were happy. She probably missed her mami too. You couldn’t imagine marrying someone and leaving your mom, but then again, you’re young and idealistic, dreaming of things that cannot be anymore.

You sat there for what felt like hours, taking in every little detail you could. You wanted to do this, to paint, to draw, to have your art hung for generations to see. Maybe you could fix the garden as well. Make it a beautiful background for your art, and a little something to make you feel useful. Now… how do you get back to your room?

The shadows seemed to giggle at how your demeanor soured once you realized how lost you actually were. Nevertheless, once they had their fun, they led you back to where you needed to be, gently nudging your tired little self back into the walls of your room. All that walking exhausted you so much, a nap was long overdue- you were sure they’d wake you up for lunch or dinner.

They never did. You woke up at one in the morning, more tired than when you went to sleep, and ten times hungrier and colder. Maybe they didn’t have dinner? The trash in the bin and half-chopped veggies in the fridge told a different story. It seems you’ll have to fend for yourself once more.

Tag List: @bat1212

[inuyashaluver]

hii would you be able to write a leah x reader fic where reader is just very veryy sleepy and just falls asleep on leah a lot no matter what time it was or where they were

sleepy girl - leah williamson

leah williamson x reader

description: in which you’ll always be leah’s sleepy girl

warnings: suggestive, swearing

a/n: i’m back!! this req too cute! thank you for the request, lovely! enjoy!! i don’t throughly enjoy this but it’s okay

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if there was one thing that everyone knew about you, it was that you were extremely sleepy. it didn’t matter what you did, or how many hours you slept, you had the ability to fall asleep anywhere, especially if you were with your girlfriend, leah.

there was just something about her shoulder that lulled you to dreamland when you least expect it.

it really wasn’t uncommon to see you cuddled up to leah, sleeping soundly while she gently palms your skin or just holds your hand.

maybe it was her scent, or her gentle touches that topped it all and leah ate it up everytime.

leah absolutely loved you in your sleepy state, your most affectionate and easily convinced state, she just thought you were the cutest.

—

you and leah had been friends ever since you could remember. you both went through the arsenal youth teams and stuck together like glue. you both quite literally could not be separated, finding a sense of comfort in being together anywhere and everywhere.

it came to no one’s surprise when the two of you started dating at 21, a late realisation from both of you.

you and leah often laughed about her mum’s reaction of: “haven’t you always been dating?”. your love was very pure, and genuine. full of affection and respect, both of you so giddy to finally be dating after the years and years of pining.

throughout your relationship and friendship, leah learned just how sleepy you could be and she found it incredibly endearing you felt safe enough to sleep anywhere if she was there.

—

“baby,” leah whispers, her hand rubbing comforting, warm circles over your (her) shirt in the early hours in the morning. you both had training and leah always made it her personal mission to be the one to get you up in the morning.

you grumble, burying your face into the pillow of your shared bed. leah lets out a little giggle, moving to lie back down to rest the side of her head on your shoulder blade. “please” leah nuzzles her head against you.

the gentle rise and fall of your body had her smiling affectionately, her hand still exploring your skin and if anything sending you right back to sleep.

“come on, my girl, training” she reminds you gently, holding herself up slightly over your body to place a gentle kiss between the space of your shoulder blades.

“no, lee” you whine, shaking your head, leah laughs again, giving the back of your neck a kiss this time and smiling at the way you giggled at the ticklish sensation.

“yes, lee, come on!” she pleads, gently rolling you around so you could lay on your back. you squint and look up at her and she takes you in, she always loved you in the mornings, always a little grumpy but softening for her almost immediately.

“good morning, sunshine,” she chuckles, a hint of a smile plays at your lips and you hold your arms up, she grins brightly, wrapping your arms around her neck in an attempt to lift you from the bed but you dragged her down with you. she laughs brightly when your legs wrap around her waist and pepper kisses all over her face.

“(y/n)!” she attempted to reprimand, but the way she was melting into you told you everything. “why are you denying me sleep, and my own girlfriend?” you rasp out, leah hovers over you slightly, smiling down at you cheekily.

“i’ll buy you a little treat if you get up right now” she persuades, you smile up at her and nod while she lays a gentle, sweet kiss on your lips before she hoists you up. “you’ve got yourself a deal, williamson” you kiss her cheek with an exaggerated ‘mwah’ making her laugh once more, one of your favourite sounds in the world.

—

you were both in the gym in the arsenal training facility, you and leah were stretching on mats, until leah began to drink water and you planted yourself in her embrace.

she happily welcomed you, pulling you close by your waist so your back was flush to her front, her arm securely wrapped around you while she had some water.

she held the bottle to your mouth and forced you to have some, kissing your cheek when you finished. she wraps her free arm around your waist and hugs you tightly.

you melted into her, your head resting on her shoulder quickly had you falling asleep.

“do you wanna watch a movie later?” leah asks softly in your ear, when she doesn’t hear a response, she leans forward slightly to see you dozing off on her shoulder.

she smiles brightly, pulling you closer and kissing your cheek gently before she rested her cheek against yours.

“look at you, lovebirds” beth teases, leah throws her a glare and beth sticks her tongue out at her in response,“fuck off, beth” leah whisper shouts, making sure not to wake you up accidentally.

though, all the movement managed to wake you up. “sorry, baby, beth’s being a little shit” leah grumbles, kissing your cheek apologetically as you grip onto the arms wrapped around you.

“it’s okay” you yawn, now fully awake after your little power nap.

you turned your head around and smiled at leah adoringly, it had blood rushing to her cheeks almost immediately.

you kiss her lips quickly and mutter sweet words against her lips, leah could tell beth was teasing her from afar at how soft leah was at that moment. but leah didn’t care, her girl showing her clingy, soft side had her heart soaring.

“my sleepy girl” leah coos, pinching your cheek lightly, you smile up at her, slowly blinking while your eyes trail along her face. “you’re pretty,” you utter, she raises her eyebrows at you amusingly.

“someone’s still a little sleepy” she chuckles, you shake your head and lean into her, “no, i’m awake” leah grins, her heart beating out of her chest when you began to play with her fingers, you were now arguing with beth over your sleeping habits.

“fuck off, beth, leah’s really comfortable” you defend, huffing in frustration, “clearly! since you fell asleep in what, two minutes?” beth teases, leah laughs and you turn to her offendedly, her smile slightly dropping at your narrowed eyes. “sorry” leah breathes out, tightening her grip on you as you turn back to argue with beth.

—

when leah went down with her acl, you took care of her with utmost hospitality and diligence. leah often had to beg you to sit down so she could cuddle you because you just wouldn’t stop. leah knew she couldn’t have gotten through recovery without you, telling you that almost every day.

you couldn’t wait for leah to come back, counting down the days but also being extremely strict with her and her recovery.

“leah, no, ice it” you say sternly, placing the bag of ice back on her knee. “baby, please, i’m bored!” leah groans, making grabby hands at you in an attempt for you to sit down.

“leah” you say flatly, leah rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, “stop calling me leah” she grumbles, your face softens and you go and sit next to her, kissing her cheek apologetically as you both watched the movie on the tv.

“sorry, baby” you start, “i need you to get better, i’m lacking in my leah training naps” you tease, leah scoffs with a laugh, shaking her head but pulling you into a sweet kiss, “i’ll be better soon” she demands, kissing your lips repeatedly.

the day she finally was able to come back was for an england match, and you were both starting.

for the first time in your relationship, you got up first, the excitement jolting you awake. leah’s arm was wrapped tightly around your waist while her legs were tangled with yours.

you placed a little kiss on her nose and giggled when it crinkled under your touch. leah’s eyes flutter awake and she gives you a surprised smile, “why are you awake? what’s wrong?” leah mumbles, moving to lie on top of you, her face burrowing into the crook of your neck.

you scoff, unable to resist carding your hands through her hair as she leaned into you. “it’s the big day” you gasp excitedly when you feel leah kiss a column of kisses up your neck.

she smiles against you and hums, you close your eyes and sigh contentedly, “mhm it is, don’t fall back asleep, we’ve got a game to win” leah teases, pinching your hip lightly, making you giggle before moving to pull you into a breathless kiss.

“i’m wide awake, thank you very much” you defend, “i’ll give you a couple hours till my shoulder turns into a pillow” leah teases, bursting out laughing when you don’t defend yourself, your cheeks pink as she leans in for another kiss.

—

the team were all having breakfast at the hotel before you all boarded the bus. you opted sitting with alessia and ella to let leah catch up with the girls.

but you couldn’t focus on the conversation, your eyes would drift to leah, a proud smile evident on your face that got you teased relentlessly.

it took about 15 minutes until alessia begged you to go over to her, tired of your yearning glances towards the blonde. you promptly left without a second thought.

you see leah chatting with georgia and keira on a table on the other side of the room and you just couldn’t contain yourself.

you walked up behind leah and keira and georgia laughed immediately at how you were only apart for not even 10 minutes until you needed to be near her again.

leah furrows her eyebrows and follows their gaze, her face immediately softening at seeing her favourite girl nearing with a bright smile.

you rush forward and pull her into a kiss, your hands cradling her face, she hums in surprise against you and pulls you to sit on her lap, the girls around teasing and wolf whistling at seeing you two.

“oh, hello,” leah breathes out with a giggle, you smile and pull her into another kiss, tame for the public eye, yet expressing every ounce of affection you both had.

“someone’s excited,” leah smirks, her hand running over your thigh as she draws you closer on her lap.

you nod along with her, kissing her cheek tenderly, “very excited, my girls back” you hum, resting your head against hers and focusing on the intense debate occurring between georgia and keira.

though, as leah kept cuddling into you, you felt your eyes begin to close and like clockwork, you were asleep.

leah felt your dead weight against her and she shook her head amusingly, kissing your shoulder and gently swaying you until it was time to get on the bus. “told you” she teases you, knowing you couldn’t hear her but still having to prove she was right.

“baby, let’s sleep on the bus” leah coos, smiling as you stir awake and immediately pull her into a tight hug. her hands on instinct rub over your back, chuckling when you wouldn’t let go. your legs wrap around her waist.

“no, i’m not moving” you whine, leah kisses your cheek before lifting you up, the girls laughing amusingly at the fact you were already asleep against leah.

she sits you down at the window seat and tucks you into her side quickly, she drapes your legs over her thighs and runs her hands up and down them gently while you sleep against her shoulder.

the girls passing by you giggle and take photos of a sleeping you and a very unamused leah at all the teasing.

“you must’ve done a number on her last night, williamson?” mary teases, leah narrows her eyes at her, her cheeks a little pink (mary wasn't lying), her stern captain face front and centre.

leah flips her off, refraining from arguing because she didn’t want to wake you up. mary laughs and turns back around, leah focuses back on you, moving some stray hairs off your face, her heart eyes evident to everyone as she looks at you adoringly.

you slept the whole way through, thanks to leah telling everyone to shut up if their voices just went above a whisper. “so help me, you wake her up, i’ll have you benched or doing laps” she’d threaten, the girls genuinely couldn’t tell if she was serious. (she was)

“love, we’re here” leah whispers, pecking your cheek and waking you up with a smile. “hi” you grin, “hi” she chuckles, kissing you quickly before tugging you off the bus, both of you waving to the camera with cheesy grins filming your arrival.

“good bus ride, girls?” the social media manager laughs, leah nods, nudging you with her shoulder, “this one got in a pre-match nap while i sat and watched” she teased, looking at you with a cheesy grin.

“such a creep, watching me sleep” you tease, winking at the camera and pulling leah off with your intertwined hands.

—

you and leah got taken off 20 minutes before full time. you both collapsed on the bench, absolutely exhausted from the brilliant performance from the two of you.

you give leah the biggest hug when you sat down, telling her how proud you were that she was finally back, and no less the captain of the squad.

as you both watched the rest of the match, you gently ran your nails over the skin of her arm as she rested her hand on your thigh. you both watched intensely, watching the match play out.

you moved over slightly to rest your head on leah’s shoulder and she already knew what was about to happen.

“don’t you dare leave me alone right now” leah teases, “i’m not, lee” you mumble, “you’re about to fall asleep, my love” leah laughs, “i’m wide awake” you scoff, glaring at her for a second before thumping your head on her shoulder.

“whatever you say, baby” she grins, squeezing your thigh gently as she leaned down slightly to make your position more comfortable.

her body was warm and her scent was enveloping you, her steady breathing and her hand caressing your thigh made your heart flutter, but also made you extremely sleepy.

you nuzzle into her and pull her arm closer to your body, promptly falling asleep. “and there she goes” she laughs to herself, kissing the top of your head as she watches the rest of the game.

the moment got filmed and went borderline viral, people laughing at how fast you fell asleep but calling the moment extremely cute between the two of you.

leah woke you up when it was finished and forced you to do your cool down, smiling at how dazed you were, promising you a good nap on the way home that you begrudgingly agreed to.

you both fell asleep on the bus to no one’s surprise but were both wide awake that night, showing leah just how proud you were of her comeback.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by bethmead_ and 44,232 others

leahwilliamsonn: england’s star striker, everyone!

view all comments

yourname: it was a long day

↳ leahwilliamsonn: aw, i know, baby

yourname: but, where is alessia?

↳ alessiarusso99: hi

↳ leahwilliamsonn: so humble

↳ yourname: what can i say

↳ leahwilliamsonn: ah, there she is!

bethmead_: this girl could sleep through an earthquake, i swear

↳ leahwilliamsonn: oh 100%

↳ yourname: baby! you’re supposed to defend me, some girlfriend you are.

↳ leahwilliamsonn: fine, she’d wake up during an earthquake and THEN fall asleep

↳ yourname: 😐

read part two here !!

[samkerrworshipper]

Initiation | Barca Femení x reader

part 1

warnings: insinuations of smut, sexual references, don’t read if you aren’t open to non monogamous relationships lol

you are responsible for your own digital consumption this is not made for anybody below the age of 18!

When it all had been proposed to you, you’d been shocked.

It was no secret amongst the soccer world that certain clubs had certain initiation customs, it was also no secret that inside a lot of clubs, especially the European ones, there was a lot of sexual fluidity across teammates. You weren’t oblivious, you’d heard the many stories from your national teammates, but when you’d signed with Barca and had two of your teammates approach you to talk about the Barca initiation you’d been shocked.

You were having coffee with Keira and Lucy, the afternoon after you’d signed and finished up all the media that had been required of you for Barca to put up on their social media and website.

You were sipping on your iced latte, whilst trying to finish off the pastry that Lucy had bought you, when they’d popped the question.

“Has anybody talked to you about Barca initiation?”

It was Keira who had piped up, her voice anxious from the other side of the table.

This was your first senior professional team that you were a proper member of, being only 22 you’d played the majority of your junior career with Manchester United, and your senior career had been a lot of bouncing between different teams. You’d never signed a contract that had you dedicated to a club for multiple seasons, so Barca was a big change for you.

“Lucy said that she had to sing a song or something.”

You hadn’t really thought about it much, you’d gone through the singing thing at your English call-up when you were 17.

“Right, but there is a little bit more to it than that.”

You looked up from your croissant, one of your eyebrows raised in questioning at your two older mentors.

“Are you going to tell me what you are talking about or continue to look at me like I’m about to explode?”

Lucy laughs, the anxiety on Keira’s face only becomes more prevalent.

“Okay, so a lot of the professional teams have different rituals that happen at the start of every season, initiation nights.”

You nod along, this isn’t new information to you, but the squint in Keira’s eyes at your obliviousness is enough to tell you that you aren’t catching on to whatever she is saying.

“Keira, can you get to the point?”

You're getting sick of Keira beating around the bush like you are a 10 year old.

“Barca has a night every year, a special night, it’s very important to some of the girls, no phones, no technology, it’s a very personal night, where some things that could be deemed unprofessional occur.”

You are still so lost, and you are certain that it’s being portrayed in your facial expression, is she talking about alcohol? Dancing? Pranks? Hazing?

“Keira, just tell me.”

Your statement is a plea, a plea for Keira to end this whole awkward encounter and just get to the point.

Lucy laughs heartily at the terrified look on Keira’s face, when she realises that Keira is stuck at what to say she takes over the conversation, both of her hands thudding down on the table.

“At the start of every season, we all get together, we have fun, no rules. This is different to your substandard initiation, this night is about connecting, on a different level with your teammates, on a sexual level.”

Your jaw slackens almost immediately, your eyes blinking aimlessly as you take in the last piece of Lucy’s statement.

“Now, that’s not to say that you have to do anything, if you want we can forget I just said that and you don’t have to be apart of that part of the night, it’s completely optional, a lot of the girls chose not to participate, but we just wanted to let you know that it is a option.”

An option.

It’s such odd wording, like it’s just an everyday decision.

“Sorry, I just need a few seconds to process.”

You take your time, taking a deep gulp of your coffee and a big bite of your croissant before you look back up at your teammates.

“Can I have a bit more of an explanation? I just want to understand this a little bit better.”

Lucy nods her head eagerly, a big smirk covering her face.

It’s such a taboo conversation to have at a fucking cafe, over breakfast, but neither of the other women seem very bothered by it.

“It’s a free for all, a survey is given out every year beforehand, things you are and aren’t open to engaging in. It’s separate to the other initiation, that happens during pre-season. This is different, It’s all very consensual, and if you choose to participate then you're limited on alcohol consumption, for safety reasons. It’s a lot of fun, a lot of pleasure and exploring. Alexia's been organising it for a few years now, so it’s a very secure process. It’s kind of seen as a final hoorah before pre-season and training starts. Normally they book out a suite at a hotel somewhere, but some years it’s been done at teammates' houses or airbnbs.”

You nod your head, it’s a very interesting concept, one that you are completely shocked by. Sure, you’ve heard about sexual innuendo amongst groups of players in clubs, but this is a completely different level. It’s uncharted territory for you, you definitely aren’t any form of prude or innocent type. You enjoy sex, you’re experienced enough to know that you are good at it. But you’ve never experienced anything near what this is.

“You’ve both been a part of it?”

Lucy nods definitively and Keira nods almost ashamedly.

“You’re okay with your partner being with other people?”

It might be an over step, but you figure this whole conversation is an over step.

“It’s not like that. I speak for both myself and Keira when I say that we both like to see each other having fun, that’s what this is. It’s a night of fun, and it’s with people that we both trust and spend every day with, there isn’t any worries about jealousy. There are a lot of the girls on the team that are in relationships, Ingrid and Mapi are together and they participate, Jenni and Alexia, Caro and Marta, there are also people in relationships outside of the team, it’s all consensual amongst both partners.”

You nod your head, it’s not like it matters to you, your not in a relationship, but it does make you feel a little bit better about the whole interaction.

“Sorry-I’m asking a lot of questions.”

Lucy just smiles and shakes her head.

“Don’t worry about it, I had plenty of questions to ask and I didn’t have a national teammate to ask about it. Ask away, it’s better to ask now then wonder later.”

You nod your head, you are still so shocked by this whole encounter.

“I-What happens at this night?”

It’s a broad question, and you almost palm yourself in the head for asking it.

“I seriously don’t need to give you the birds and bees talk do I?”

Lucy is jesting you, so you roll your eyes, pivoting to Keira with a genuine look of curiosity.

“It differs each year, depending on what people want to do. Toys, kinks, bondage, anything really. If you want to do something, someone is probably likely to want to oblige you. For example, last year, Luce put down that she liked to watch me service other people, and I got the opportunity to do that.”

Keira is stuttering over her words, it’s kind of cute, especially when you catch the glance that Lucy throws at her.

“This is the only time it happens every year.”

Keira cocks her head, looking at Lucy for some kind of permission before shaking her head.

“Not quite, there are agreements between some of the girls, on trips and things often happen but that’s more private, this is common knowledge amongst the team. Although, if you enjoy yourself there is a more than likely chance that more opportunities will come up, if you catch my drift.”

Keira is like your older sister, so sitting down and talking to her about sex has never been something that has ever crossed your mind remotely, but you are kind of glad that it is Kei that you are talking to. Because Keira doesn’t joke around the same as the others do, she wouldn’t make fun of you about something like this, nor would Lucy consider she’s Keira’s codependent.

“So, correct me if I’m wrong, and I'm going to be blunt about this. Every year, before the season starts, the Barca women have a massive sex free for all that’s disguised as an initiation party.”

Keira hesitantly nods, but not before she can correct you a little bit.

“It’s not disguised as an initiation party, there will be other new signings there, Ona, who you would know from United, and a few other girls. I can promise you that the newbies get the most attention, if that’s something you want, of course, there is absolutely no pressure for you to participate, this is about you doing as little or as much as you’d like.”

You take a few minutes of silence, whilst you toss up all of the words that have been spoken in the conversation between you and the couple.

It’s a lot to think about, and the thought is massively daunting.

Especially considering that you are going to be walking into a room full of women that you’ve hardly talked to. You’ve met Alexia, she dropped in to meet you when you were going through the process of your signing, but it had been a fairly rushed interaction and you’d been too busy being in awe of her to even think about anything besides the fact that in a few months time you’d be playing on the field beside her.

“If I said I wanted to?”

Lucy broke out into a fit of giggles, a big smile breaking out across her face.

“I’ll text la capitana, she’ll text you any details, you’ll probably get a visit or a phone call confirming your interest.”

You were still a little bit shocked, this whole conversation felt like it had been a dream, so much so that you’d had to reach down to your thigh and pinch it to confirm that this was in fact your life.

“That’s it?”

Lucy smirked and nodded, reaching over to pat you on the shoulder.

“You aren’t signing yourself off to the devil, Ale will be in contact, if you have any questions you’ll see Kei and I everyday leading up to it, and if you want to pull out at any stage that’s completely fine, no hard feelings, no judgement.”

You nodded your head, unable to do much more than that.

“It’s as easy as that?”

Lucy nods her head.

“Easy as that.”

It’s two days later, when you are properly acquainted with your captain.

You are sitting at your kitchen counter, finalising some university work that you are trying to get ahead of when you are rudely interrupted by the sound of a light knocking at your door.

You close your laptop, and turn down the volume of the playlist you have playing across your speakers, before you jog to the door of your apartment.

The last thing you expect to be faced with, is the face of your newest captain.

“Hola, Capitana.”

You don’t really know what else to say, you’ve had zero warning about this sudden visit, and whilst you are honoured, it’s also a little bit daunting having one of the best players the game has standing right in front of you.

“Lo siento, puedo pasar?” Sorry, may I come in?

You are nowhere near fluent in Spanish, Lucy had been giving you crash courses over the past few months once she’d found out about your signing, you had managed to get a cusp of basic conversational talk, the club had told you that once season commenced you’d be assigned a spanish teacher and a translator, so you hadn’t been super worried about it.

“Please, make yourself comfortable, would you like something to drink? I’ve got water, juice, coffee, tea?”

You list off everything that you can think of, as you open the door fully to Alexia.

“Just water should be fine.”

You are slightly shocked by the Spaniards' flawless pronunciation over her English, and also extremely relieved that you aren’t going to be forced to try and understand Spanish, because it certainly isn’t a skill you’ve even begun to master.

Alexia takes a spot sitting at your island bench, directly beside your uni work that had been the previous centre of your attention, which is now being completely occupied by your Catalan company.

“Here you go.”

You pass the glass over to Alexia, electing to stay positioned on the opposite side of the counter, instead of sitting down beside her. It feels less confrontational, more conversational and less one on one.

“Gracias, I’m sorry for dropping in without any warning, I was in the area and I figured it was best to discuss this all with you in person, I won’t be here long, I don’t want to disturb anything.”

You smiled at Alexia, shaking your head at her.

“It’s no trouble at all, I was just getting ahead of some course work, what can I do for you, Capitana?”

Alexia gives you a wry smile, reaching for her handbag which she’d set down on the floor.

“Please call me Alexia or Ale, none of the formality is necessary.”

You nod at her, Ale, it sounds nice coming off of your tongue, it makes you feel a little bit less terrified of the woman.

“Okay Ale, what can I do for you?”

Alexia smiles at you, a genuine smile that somehow warms your soul, it’s like magic, and you give yourself a mental note to ask Lucy about the effect later on.

“I’m just here to talk to you about our initiation night on Friday, Lucia tells me that you are keen to join in, si?”

You nod your head cautiously, it’s impossible to miss the little dimple in Alexia’s cheek as she licks her lips and smirks at you.

“Perfecta, I can assure you that you will have a lot of fun. Has Lucia talked to you about it, or would you like me to give you a bit of a debrief?”

Technically, Lucy has given you the debrief, but you are curious to learn more and see if Alexia has anything else to add.

“Lucy talked about it, but it was pretty brief and non-specific.”

Alexia nods, and gently pushes a sheet of paper across the table to you, one look at the words across the sheet had your eyes nearly bulging out of your eye sockets.

“On the left, you’ll see a list of girls' names, those are the girls from the team that are choosing to participate. Some just come to watch, others come to please, others come for pleasure. Everything that happens on the night is exclusive to the team, and if talked about outside of the team there are consequences. On the right you’ll see a list of common things that occur. I'll send out a survey to you later, the majority of those things will be on the list, you do not have to engage in anything that makes you uncomfortable, there is absolutely no pressure for you to do anything. Please understand that.”

You nod dutifully at Alexia, your eyes scanning the page and taking in the amount of names as well as different sexual acts and activities.

“We’ve rented out a house, it’s on private land, nice and spacious, lots of privacy. I’m sure Keira and Lucia will take you along with them, you can be as included as you wish, we take care of newbies, anything you want you’ll get, just don’t be shy to ask for it, okay?”

You nod sheepishly at Alexia. This conversation would make you uncomfortable normally, but talking about it with ‘La Reina’ like the two of you are discussing the weather is perplexing.

“Don’t stress about it, cariño, you’ll be well looked after, you are well sought after amongst the group, I’m sure that you’ll be very popular if you desire so. If not, I’m always happy to look after our newest additions.”

Alexia sends you a sardonic smile, sweet and sultry, full of teeth and a chunk of her plump pink lip caught in her teeth.

You think that Alexia can sense that you are stuck on what to say to her, a little bit star struck and still trying to process the words that have just left her mouth.

“Well, unless you have any other questions I'll see myself out, I’ll see you in a couple of days, adios.”

Alexia is up and out of your kitchen in a matter of seconds, barrelling towards the door, your body following hers and managing to speak out just as her hand connects with the brass of your door knob.

“Alexia, thank you for coming around, I really appreciate it, just one last question if you have a second?”

Alexia pivots on her heel, turning around to face you fully.

“Ask away.”

You nod your head, working up the confidence inside of you to ask the question.

“What should I expect?”

You are well aware that it’s a broad question, and you don’t know what kind of answer you are going to receive, but there is a part of your gut that’s just begging for more information, for something.

“You really want a spoiler?”

You nod your head definitively, you aren’t a person who enjoys surprises, you like to know what to expect, what’s happening. You’ve been this way since you were a child, and it’s followed you up until now.

“It’s an atmospheric experience, the feeling, the endorphins. There is nothing that matches being in a room full of people full of desire, nothing like being in a room full of women reaching levels of pleasure they never even imagined. I don’t know what else to say, it’s an out of body experience, there is a reason why it is so sacred amongst our team, as a newbie it’s daunting, I know it’s hard to believe but I was once in your position as well, and the best chunk of advice I can give you is to just let go, let yourself live in the moment whilst you are there, nobody is going to judge you, take a leap of faith, okay? I’ll see you in a couple of days, text me if you have any more questions or if you think I’ve left anything out, even if you just want to chat I’m here, take a read from the list I gave you, it should provide some insight.”

Alexia’s words resonate with you for days to come, the way she talked about the whole situation like it was gospel, her words making it seem like a holy sacrament. You study the sheet she’s given you as if it is the holy bible and you are trying to learn your scriptures.

14 women.

15 including yourself.

That’s a lot of people, and yet as you read over the names it seems nowhere near as magnitudinal as it sounds.

The list of kinks and situations is a source of a lot of your late night self explorations.

You’ve experimented with a lot of things over the years, but some of the things on the list have you weak at the knees just reading them. When your receive the email from Alexia it takes you a whole day to work up the courage to open up the attachments. The first one, as previously discussed is a survey. It has all of the things from the sheet Alexia gave you, plus a surplus of other things, and then some more questions to be personally filled in. It’s near impossible to work through it, it takes far longer than you think it should, but by the end of it you are left with a warm feeling in the bottom of your stomach, anticipation, shock at what you are looking at.

There are four boxes for each topic, yes, no, maybe. And below every maybe box there is a little text box which reads ‘please specify’.

It’s well organised, and you have a feeling that Alexia will have put a lot of time into it, from the very short amount of time that you’ve grown to know her you’re under the impression that she takes her role of captain very seriously.

Fingering? yes. Vaginal pentration? yes. Spanking? yes. Bondage? maybe - no ropes or handcuffs. Oral receiving? yes. Oral giving? yes. Use of toys? yes. Double penetration? yes. Anal? maybe - only experimented but open to trying. Sensory deprivation? maybe - no gags. Humiliation? no. Sex with multiple people? yes. Orgasm denial/control? yes. Sex with a couple? yes. Praise? yes. Degradation? yes. Choking/breath play? no. Dominant? no. Switch? maybe - most likely not. Submissive? yes.

The list goes on, it covers every single thing you’ve ever done and then more, it makes you quiver in the depths of your core, just with anticipation.

Once you’ve finished the yes no part of the survey and answered the questions down the bottom you move onto the other attachment, which from a quick skim over outlines the rules, expectations and details of the night.

The main things that cathc your eyes are the sentences relating to safe words and consent. It seems important so you pay extra attention to it. It talks about the traffic light system, that once you consent to the night it is your responsibility to use your words, there will be regular check ins but unless you use your safe word there is no expectation for anything to stop.

Some other topics that catch your eyes are details about time, place, clothes, etcetera.

The majority of it is just information that Lucy and Keira had already outlined to you, the newbie run down.

Three days later, and you are slowly getting ready for your night to come.

Over the past 72 hours there has been one thing on your mind, tonight. You aren’t spared a minute from your thoughts and when Keira and Lucy walk through your front door, running an hour late you are buzzing. You are well aware of the fact that you look like a 8 year old who has just skulled a bottle of cola, every single extremity connected to your body shaking wildly.

You were lost on what to wear, and it had taken a long chat with Keira yesterday to convince you that apparently it was nowhere near as big of a deal as you were making it in your head.

You settled for a matching sweat combo, just because you figured it would be coming off anyway. It was paired with one of your nicest pairs of lingerie, a red set which was probably leaning towards a size too small. The set accentuated every single part of your body though, it hugged your curves, made your ass pop and your tits look delectable.

It felt almost criminal to cover it up with a tank top and nike tracksuit and sweater, but you also found comfort in the extra layer of clothing, it feels like a layer of armour.

You’ve been sitting in your apartment, contemplating everything for an hour and a half when Lucy and Kei finally show up.

They walk in without any warning, and it’s certainly a sight for sore eyes.

You aren’t sure when was the last time you’ve seen either of them glowing and looking so smiley, but it’s definitely a moment where you take a mental picture for the future.

They’re both dressed similarly to you, and for once you don’t find yourself guilty for being curious about what hides beneath the couple's clothing.

“Hola.”

Even your words are practically dripping with anxiety, your voice shaky and stuttery.

“Hola amor, you ready to go?”

Lucy looks especially delighted.

Her hair is down, something that you don’t see very often. She’s got a light layer of makeup on that compliments her facial figures without making it look like she’s over done it.

Keira looks similar, her hair is down and curled every so slightly, if you didn’t know her so well you probably wouldn’t have realised but the effort is noted inside your brain. She’s also got a very light layer of makeup on, both women look stunning, perfect together, the picture of love.

It makes you hopeful, hopeful that one day you’ll find somebody that looks at you the way Lucy does at Keira, and vice versa.

“Mhm.”

You don’t get up from the couch, all of a sudden you feel unable to move.

Keira recognises it fairly quickly, taking a seat down next to you, her hand falling on top of your knee and squeezing lightly.

“Everything alright, little one?”

Keira’s voice is so soft, it makes you feel safe, like you’re at home.

“Just nervous.”

As far as nerves go, you're fairly certain the euros final doesn’t even match this, it’s weird.

“You know that if you want to back out that’s completely fine, nobody is going to make fun of you.”

You shook your head, backing out was the last thing you wanted to do, but it didn’t make everything else less daunting.

“M’ fine, just need a sec.”

Keira’s hand slowly moves up from your knee, to your thigh, her grip becoming a little bit lighter.

“I can think of a way to calm some of those nerves.”

Keira’s voice is unusually confident, and it surprises you greatly when she reaches down to your chin and pulls it upwards so you’re looking at her.

It’s just then that you realise exactly how close the two of your faces are, so close that you can feel Keira’s breath on your face. It’s warm and it tickles against your skin in a way that you’ve never felt before. She’s smiling at you, but there is a deeper connection through her eyes, the way she's looking at you makes you feel like you are the only person in the world.

“Luce?”

You’re well aware of what this whole night ensues, but it doesn’t settle the slight niggle in your gut that you definitely do not want to be reading this situation wrong.

“Yes, honey?”

Keira’s eyes don’t waiver from your own, even as yours look across the room to look at Lucy, who is giving you a similar look to Keira, somewhat predatory in the best way possible. Her voice is practically dripping with confidence, doused in assertiveness.

You look between the both of them, realising that there is definitely no push back from either of them.

“Please tell me I’m not reading this wrong.”

Keira silences you by pressing her lips to your own, you freeze up for a few seconds, your mouth completely unmoving as you realise this really is happening, that for the last week you haven’t been walking around in some kind of weird dream that’s been created because of some weird delusion in your head.

After a few seconds, you relax into the kiss, moving your own lips against Keira’s and savouring the flavour of strawberry gum and coffee that is fresh on her lips. It tastes how Keira feels, warm and content and it calms down any of the previous nerves that were occupying your stomach, the shaking across your whole body as Keira’s hand on your jaw gently caresses the skin with the pads of her fingertips.

After a few more seconds of Keira sucking and biting at your lips she retracts herself, a big smile on her face as she continues to stare at you.

“Luce you need to try, she tastes divine.”

The compliment makes you blush more than you were already, the redness spreading down to your neck as you feel the couple's eyes on you.

“All in due time Kei, we don’t want to overwhelm her, now I think it’s about time we get a move on, hm?”

You nod subconsciously, your brain still floating on a different planet as you compartmentalise exactly what just happened. All you can think about is how Keira’s lips felt, addictively soft and supple, it’s a feeling that you are certain you won’t forget.

“God you’ve gone and broken her Kei, already?”

The feeling of Keira squeezing your knee once again manages to awaken you from your trance, your eyes darting between the couple cautiously.

“You ready to go, honey?”

Keira’s voice is as soft as her lips, you're so effortlessly enraptured by her that it makes you more than a little bit excited for whatever is to come.

You’ve never seen Keira look this carefree, this cheeky and it makes you feel so much more at peace then you had previously.

You allow Keira to guide you out of your own apartment, your brain still working at a snail's pace so before you even realise you are sitting in the backseat of Lucy’s very nice mercedes. Instead of sitting in the front beside Lucy, Keira has elected to sit in the backseat with you, her body pressed up against your own and her hand resting comfortably on the inside of your knee.

Your knee is bouncing up and down under Keira’s hand, and before you can say anything, her hand is moving up to your chin and rotating it to meet her lips.

This time the kiss is more motivated, more purposeful but sweet all the same.

You give Keira control, your lips practically melting into hers as her hand tangles into the back of your head, tugging at the tresses of hair at the nape of your neck.

It feels so good, so good that you part your lips to moan, instead your sounds are silenced though by Keira’s tongue.

Keira kisses with passion and fervour, it’s quite shocking based off of her personality and all the times you’ve seen her around Lucy, but it makes you giddy on the inside all the same.

“Keira, behave.”

The words come when Keira’s spare hand comes up to your covered breast, you don’t even really notice until you see Lucy looking directly at Keira in the rearview mirror and the look on her face is a mixture of displeasure and humour.

“You're just mad that I got her first.”

Keira’s hand doesn’t move, and it’s fairly clear that Lucy isn’t pleased about it.

“You keep talking like that to me and you won’t like how the night goes for you.”

Keira’s hand quickly moves down from your breast but she doesn’t remove it completely, instead moving it down to your lap again, but her kisses don’t stop, she litters little kisses all over your jaw and neck, all whilst you maintain the eye contact with Lucy in the rearview.

She’s smirking, her eyes don’t leave yours unless they go back to the road, and even when they don’t you keep your eyes on her.

Keira is only egged on by the little sounds and moans that leave your mouth as she finds different spots across your neck and face that make you melt even further into her.

“How does she feel honey? Is she getting you warmed up?”

Lucy’s words are directed towards you, it takes a few seconds for your brain to wrap it’s way around them but once you do you reply quickly.

“Feels good, m’ sorry.”

Lucy’s eyebrows furrow, and when the next red light comes she turns around completely to look at you.

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

Lucy voice is more questioning than accusatory.

“Sorry for getting Kei in trouble and kissing her without your permission.”

Lucy scoffs and Keira snorts from her spot on your neck.

“Oh honey, not your fault that Kei is choosing to be a bit bratty, these nights always get her quite over zealous, as far as kissing her you’ve got my full permission, you don’t need to ask.”

You nod cautiously, moaning as Keira begins to suck a mark right into the pulse point on your neck.

“Kei, behave yourself, you know what Ale said about not getting over excited.”

It’s the mention of Alexia’s name that has your ears perking up.

It seems to get Keira to back off a bit, her lips at least, her hand continues to rub gently at the inside of your knee and thigh and you slowly drive down a dark and windy road.

“Y’know you're all Kei’s been talking about all week, she’s been very excited for tonight.”

You look over at the older English woman, feeling a little bit confident when you notice that Keira is blushing wildly and avoiding your eye contact completely.

“Lucee.”

Keira is clearly embarrassed, which must mean that what Lucy is saying has come truth, which means that Keira has been thinking about you.

“All she’s been talking about, I can say the same about quite a lot of the girls, you are a popular topic.”

It makes you feel all giddy in your stomach with the acknowledgment from Lucy, she’s the last person that would lie to you, so it makes you feel especially good.

Keira groans and hides her head against the window.

“Really?”

Lucy scoffs once again at the shock in your voice.

“Trust me honey, pretty sure there will be girls queuing up for you, us oldies don’t get that kind of attention.”

Keira rolls her eyes, which is enough of an answer for you to realise that Lucy is trying to be humble.

It’s just as you’re about to say something that the car pulls into a driveway, which is already full of cars.

Alexia is right, it’s the only light that you’ve seen for miles, there is nobody for miles, which is a big comfort.

Lucy opens your door for you, helping you out and immediately beginning to assess your neck.

Once she’s certain that there are no marks she moves her vision up to your face, reaching down for a quick kiss.

It’s different to Keira, rougher, her lips more coarse.

It still feels equally as good.

Lucy releases fairly quickly, Keira’s already walking up the stairs to the house, an extra pep in her step as she makes it to the door.

Lucy and you are quick to follow her.

The door has a keypad on it, Keira quickly punches in a four digit code before the door pops open. The entry hallway is completely empty and silent, all three of you toe off your shoes and leave them and your socks by the door.

Lucy leads towards the door at the end of the entry way, you loiter behind, completely terrified of whatever is going to be behind it.

[b38rman]

SLOW MOTION, DOUBLE-VISION ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡☾ ﾟ｡⋆ Ollie Bearman

tags - ollie bearman x afab!reader, childhood friends to lovers, reader is in uni, light angst, eventual smut (with feelings), explicit sexual content

synopsis - No matter how many years passed by, it was glaringly obvious that you would never admit to yourself that you’d always wished for Ollie to be the one for you. It was hard back then, and it was even harder now. (OR: Your head knew that your childhood best friend would never be the one for you. Your heart just hadn’t realized it yet.)

rating - explicit

warnings - 18+ minors dni, slight angst (a little bit of arguing), explicit sexual content, unprotected sex

a/n - very obviously inspired by gold rush by taylor swift. ollie IS gold rush to me. highly recommend listening to it while thinking of him.

Whenever Ollie ran, you would chase him. Whether it was through his garden, between classrooms, or around your dinner table, you'd been doing it ever since you could remember. 

That was until he ran far, far away from you to Italy—of course you wouldn't follow (no matter how badly you wanted to.)

It was amidst this chase when you realized that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop longing for him. You'd known this since you were 12 years old, when he grinned from the pew next to you as he caught you falling asleep during a church sermon. After that, you couldn't stop realizing the squeeze in your chest when you made him laugh, or the way he'd look at you at the end of a karting race, and how he'd thank you on those days like your company meant more than the accolades he was collecting. 

At 16 and 17, when he'd just moved and you'd already begun preparing for university, you'd try to keep in contact regularly. You'd watch as your laptop screen filled with the smile that had made your knees weak even from a thousand miles away and promptly force yourself to shut down those feelings.

"Hey you." He'd say, like he always did. "Hi. How was work today?" You'd answer, and he'd beam before talking your ear off for an hour or two, or until he decided he was too tired to keep going. 

Many times you wished you could reach through the screen and trace the freckles on his cheeks. You longed for the certainty of knowing how they felt under your fingertips.

On these calls, you knew that he just needed someone to listen to him. It wasn't that you weren't genuinely interested in what he was saying—of course you were—it was just that maybe your life was getting so bland that you had nothing to share with him, or that all of those things paled in comparison to what he was doing. The distance was far greater than the mileage separating both of you.

"Good night Ollie, sleep tight." You'd say at the end of one of these calls, watching his eyes blink slowly, indicating that he was already drifting off.

"You aren't telling me something." He answered. You felt your stomach twist.

I miss you, was definitely on your mind. I love you and I want you here were more self indulgent options for sure.

"I'm telling you everything." It was a white lie, but you couldn't think of what else to say to that.

You watched as Ollie's face dropped and shifted into an expression you couldn't read. He paused to take a moment, before going back to his own sleepiness.

"Good night." And the screen faded to black.

Over time, the calls became less and less frequent. It was sad, honestly; you went from seeing him basically everyday to feeling like you were barely a part of his life. Ultimately, though, it became clear how you were worlds apart from each other, especially since he stopped coming home for holidays and birthdays, and you didn't have the time to visit Modena no matter how many times you'd promised that to him in the past.

You existed on different planets—entirely different dimensions and planes of reality. He could pick and choose between celebrities and Instagram models, and you were stuck highlighting textbooks living from deadline to deadline.

That was until you got the call. 

“Ollie’s coming home.” Your mom said as soon as you picked up. You were cycling from one building to another between your classes and had three missed calls from her already. 

“What?” You hoped the shock surfacing in your voice wasn’t that obvious, considering how jarring it was in comparison to your mom’s excitement. 

“Yes! Come home for the weekend, it’ll be just like old times.” Your mom answered, thankfully not detecting your nerves.

It would be like old times, but this Ollie  wasn’t. You didn’t know what to do with that. What you were sure of though, is Ollie wasn’t running anymore—and you weren’t sure if that meant you had to stop chasing him too.

Ollie was standing behind his parents when you arrived at their house. It felt surreal, like you were undergoing some kind of half-dream, half-deja vu state. After greeting his parents with the usual pleasantries about how university is treating you and how you grow up so fast, you finally got to lay eyes on Ollie after three whole years. 

All you could see in that moment was him. It was like your mind fell silent and the only sound that cascaded through your body was that of your heart pounding against your ribcage.

In front of him, you were five, twelve, sixteen, and nineteen all at once. 

The silence felt like it lasted a lifetime, but he pulled you in before he could say a word.

The world went silent as you closed your eyes and let yourself stay in that moment. It was as if his parents and little brother weren't in the doorway with you—as if the world was your hometown and Modena was universes away.

"I missed you." Ollie said so earnestly your body was going to explode. He buried his face in your hair and you swore he was a few inches taller than he was when he left you.

"Me too." You replied into his chest, trying to breathe through how overwhelming everything was.

You were on your phone, lying in Ollie's twin-sized mattress, perfectly preserved like a sacred relic from your childhood. You'd remember nights when you'd snuggle together, his touch like a comforting anchor amidst seas that he could calm with his hand. You wondered if it was the same as it had always been. Would it be different now? Was it different now?

You glanced above the screen to watch Ollie reassembling his simulator in silence. It was comfortable, with the only air of awkardness coming from the elephant standing in the corner of the room; that being you not being on conversational terms previously despite being 'best friends.'

"Need help?" You asked, as you watched Ollie furrow his brows at some part that looked like any other part, which was confusing in itself but you were willing to help anyway. 

"No, all good." He chewed his bottom lip, clearly still frustrated and at a loss at what to do. 

You pursed your lips together and calmly asked a second time, "You sure?"

"Yes! I told you I didn't need your help the first time. Why aren't you listening to me?" Ollie let go of the parts he was holding, opting instead to press his eyes into his palms. "It used to be so easy to have you around, I just can't figure out why it's so different now."

"Well maybe it's because you're different now, Ollie." You couldn't help but raise your voice back at him as your heart pounded for entirely different reasons now.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe you were the one who stopped talking to me." His eyes pierced through you, but his glare was so obviously laced with hurt. It hurt you too—of course it did. 

You took a deep breath before replying. 

"You could literally pick any other girl to talk to, I don't know why what I do matters so much to you." You felt the tears well up in your eyes as you tried to stop your voice from fraying at the send of your sentence. You closed your eyes and covered your face in an attempt to stop the tears, but that proved futile as the warm wet streaks soon lined your face.

You felt the side of the bed dip and a hand reach out to gently touch the hands on your face. 

"Hey, I'm sorry, look at me." He wrapped his calloused hand around your wrist and exposed your red, splotchy face in all its glory to him. "You know me, you know I don't care about—" Ollie gestured loosely with one hand "—them. Besides, none of them will ever be you."

You tried not to overthink his statement too much as he moved his hand from his wrist to your cheek, then to your forehead. You held your breath as he leaned forward to press a kiss on your forehead, then down to your right cheek. You felt all the air exit your lungs as he pressed his forehead to yours, so impossibly close to you.

Growing up, you'd always wondered what it would be like to study how perfect every freckle and feature on his face was. Now that it was happening, the overwhelming glimmer in his eyes barely gave away that none of this was a pipe dream that you'd imagined from too many days away from him.

"Can I—" Ollie started. 

You grabbed his chin and smashed your lips together, taking him by surprise before he could even finish his sentence. People describe kissing to be like fireworks going off in your belly, or like butterflies swarming—however, there were no butterflies or fireworks, because those things couldn't even come close to what you were feeling. 

The kiss was hard and deep and neverending. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that came from years of anticipation—it was something else entirely; gentler, more deliberate. You felt Ollie’s hand slide to your waist, pulling you closer as though he was afraid you might disappear. Every inch of space that had once stretched between you over the years seemed to fold in on itself, leaving only the heat of his lips on yours and the sound of your uneven breaths filling the room.

“Ollie,” you whispered against his mouth when you finally pulled away, your voice barely audible. His name hung in the air like a confession.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with something raw, and you almost wished you could look away from how immense it was. “I mean it,” he murmured. “None of them will ever be you.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of those words nearly leading you to collapse. You didn’t need him to explain further because it made sense now. From the moment he grinned at you in that church pew, to the countless video calls where his smile never quite reached his eyes anymore, and even now as his thumb brushed gently across your cheek—it all made sense.

But there was still a sliver of fear inside you. “What happens when you leave again?” you asked softly. Your hand found its way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your palm. “What happens to us then?”

Ollie let out a shaky breath, his forehead pressing against yours again. “I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “But I do know that I can’t keep pretending it doesn't feel like this to me. I can’t keep running away from this—away from you.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave. For years, you’d chased him, only to stop when you thought he’d never look back. But here he was, tethering himself to you with a kind of sincerity that was so intense it was just on the verge of too much. 

You didn’t say anything more. Instead, you let yourself kiss him again—this time slower, more intentional. His lips moved against yours like he was committing every moment to memory, like he didn’t want to forget a single second of this.

Eventually, the kiss deepened, and his hands roamed cautiously over your back, your waist, like he was overriding the memories he had of you with this one. You felt the mattress shift as he pulled you down with him, your body fitting against his as though it had always been meant to. The warmth of his hands against your skin grounded you, making you feel like this wasn’t just a dream.

“Ollie,” you breathed his name again, your voice trembling as his lips found your jaw, your neck. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

“So have I,” he confessed between kisses, his voice husky and filled with need. “You have no idea how long.”

You stayed on your sides, your head spinning as you continued to kiss. Maybe it was the oxygen that you were losing from kissing for this long, or maybe it was how high you were on the fact that Ollie felt the same way about you. Either way, you knew where this was leading, and you could barely believe that it was happening here, in Ollie's bedroom. You couldn't figure out if it felt sacred or if it unlocked certain fantasies that you didn't dare indulge in. 

Ollie was the one who made the first move, daring to move his warm, calloused hands over your ribcage, tantalizingly close to your breasts. "Please, Ollie," you brought your mouth away from his for a moment to plead. "Need you." You said, punctuated by you moving his hands under your bra. 

You shuddered under his touch as his hand rubbed across your nipples, leading you to jerk your hips forward into the growing hardness in his pants. You knew the moan he let out would fill your ears and mind with yearning long after this.

You toyed with the hem of his shirt as both your movements grew more and more desperate, and that cued Ollie to rid of his shirt altogether. You followed suit with your shirt and bra, making sure to spend enough time admiring just how beautiful all of him was, like he himself was chiseled out of the marble they used to make the statues of demigods.

"You're staring." He said smugly, eyes glistening with mischief and warmth. You chuckled back at him. 

"Well I'm sorry." The apology came out sounding snarky and sarcastic, and it was Ollie's turn to laugh.

"You aren't though." Ollie quipped back before diving into your neck once again, licking and biting just to get some noises out of you. 

He then helped you out of your shorts and underwear, seemingly desperate to run his fingers through your folds. "Fuck, you're so wet for me." You gasped as he ran his fingers over your clit and your hole, spreading your wetness around. 

Ollie made quick work of his own pants and boxers, and you indulged him by wrapping your hands around his dick, hard and leaking pre-cum. After you gave him a few experimental pumps, he was relenting. "Ah—wait—don't want to cum yet." 

Soon after, your hand was replaced by Ollie's as he guided his length into you, inch by inch. He had one hand at the base of his dick, and the other holding your knee up, making the angle better and ensuring that you were properly open for him to lay all of his love into. 

You didn't even have time to think after he bottomed out inside you, because soon after he was setting a pace that could only be described as relentless, like he was trying to repent for the years you'd waited. You couldn't help the moans that escaped your mouth as he pounded into you. 

You held on to him as he laid into you, whimpering as sweat began to form on his brow. 

"Tell me," He said, breathless as the room was filled with the sounds of skin against skin, "Tell me you love me." 

Your heart felt like it was bursting at the seams. "I love you—God, fuck—I love you."

With that, Ollie was burying himself deep into you and reaching his climax, painting your insides with pearly white rivulets. You were not far behind, clenching and cumming around his cock as he ground the last of his orgasm into you. 

As soon as Ollie pulled out, he was grabbing napkins from his bedside table, cupping a wad of them at your entrance as his cum seeped out of you. He seemed focused on it though, how you were practically dripping with his release and yours. 

"I could get used to this." Ollie's breathing turned heavy.

"You're kind of nasty." You replied playfully, shifting the mood as he cleaned you up.

"You love it." He joked, but you knew there was more behind that. 

"Almost as much as I love you." You followed up, laying a kiss on his flushed cheek. 

For the first time in years, you didn’t feel like you were chasing him anymore. He was here—grounded, steady, and most importantly, yours alone.