#this is so long. i know no one is going to read it

[harrysfolklore]

but daddy i love him, part one - mv1

summary: in the world of formula 1, where competition runs deep and loyalties are tested, yn wolff and max verstappen found themselves caught in the middle . as the daughter of mercedes team principal and the rising red bull star, they must navigate the balance between rivalries and love. wc: 17k

folkie radio: HERE. IT. IS. FINALLY !!!!!!!! as i've stated before i'm absolutely terrified of posting this, this is my longest fic ever and different from what i've done before. i know it's a long read but i'm really proud of it and i think it's worth it. IN THIS FIC MORE THAN ANY OTHER. I ENCOURAGE YOU TO LEAVE FEEDBACK.

DISCLAIMER: as stated in the title THIS IS PART ONE!!! part two is ready in my drafts and will be posted shortly (in a week tops). i'll stop talking now. BUCKLE UP AND ENJOY (and please leave feedback okay)

Melbourne, 2015

The hotel lobby is quiet at this hour - that strange liminal space between late night and early morning when most reasonable people are asleep. But you've never been great at reasonable, and jet lag has your body clock completely scrambled.

That's how you end up in the hotel's deserted coffee shop at 1 AM, nursing a hot chocolate and trying to calm your nerves about tomorrow.

You're so lost in thought you don't notice someone else enter until they speak.

"They're still open?"

You look up and your heart skips. Of course you recognize him immediately - Max Verstappen, the 17-year-old prodigy your father hasn't stopped talking about for months. "The next big thing," Papa had said, watching testing footage. "He's going to shake up the whole paddock, just watch."

"Sort of," you gesture to your drink, trying to keep your voice casual. "The barista took pity on me. Said she'd make one last drink before closing."

He glances at the now-dark counter and sighs. Up close, he looks even younger than in the photos you've seen, but there's something in his eyes - a fierce determination that makes you understand why everyone's been talking about him.

"Here," you push your barely-touched hot chocolate towards him. "I'm not really drinking it anyway."

He hesitates. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Probably shouldn't have caffeine at this hour anyway."

He sits across from you, taking a careful sip. "Thanks. I'm Max."

I know, you think. Everyone knows. The youngest F1 driver in history, Jos Verstappen's son, the rookie everyone's watching.

"You're not from around here," you note his accent, playing along with the pretense that you don't know exactly who he is.

"Neither are you," he grins, and something warm flutters in your stomach. His smile transforms his whole face, makes him look his age.

"Fair point. Here for the Grand Prix?"

"You could say that." He studies you, and you wonder if he can hear your heart racing. "You?"

"Something like that." You're enjoying this little game more than you probably should.

"Cryptic."

You laugh. "Says the equally cryptic stranger."

"Okay, okay." He takes another sip. "I'm one of the new drivers. Toro Rosso."

You try to hide your smile. You've watched every clip of his testing sessions, heard every conversation your father has had about his potential. "Ah. The youngest F1 driver in history. That must be a lot of pressure."

He shrugs, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of expectations already heavy on him. You know that weight - you've carried your own version of it your whole life.

"Everyone keeps saying that."

"Scared?"

"No," he answers too quickly, then sighs. "Maybe a little. You won't tell anyone I said that, right?"

There's something vulnerable in his admission that makes your heart ache. Behind all the hype and headlines, he's just a boy on the verge of something enormous.

"Your secret's safe with me." You lean back. "For what it's worth, I think you'll do great."

"You sound pretty confident for someone who just met me."

If only he knew how many hours you'd spent watching his karting videos. How many times you'd heard your father say "That Verstappen boy is going to change everything."

"Let's call it intuition."

He laughs - a genuine, unguarded sound that makes your pulse quicken. "You're different."

"Different good or different bad?"

"Just… different." He finishes the hot chocolate. "Most people, when they find out who I am, they either get weird about it or start asking about Jos."

"Your father?"

He nods, and you see a flicker of something in his eyes - the same shadow you sometimes get when people mention Toto.

"Well, I know a thing or two about father-related pressure, so…"

"Yeah?" He looks interested. "What does your father do?"

You check your watch, knowing it's time to end this little charade. "Oh wow, is that the time? I should probably head up."

"Wait," he stands as you do. "I didn't catch your name."

You pause at the door, turning back with a small smile, savoring what you know will be his reaction. "I'm YN Wolff."

His eyes widen. "Wolff? As in…"

"See you in the paddock, Max Verstappen."

You leave him standing there, but not before catching his surprised laugh. Your heart is racing as you walk away - from the deception, from his smile, from the way his eyes had lit up when he laughed.

The next morning, you spot him in the paddock. He does a double-take when he sees you with the Mercedes team, then grins and shakes his head. You're wearing your team kit now, no more pretending to be just another girl in a hotel coffee shop.

"Cryptic stranger," he mouths at you as he passes.

You just smile, trying to ignore how your stomach flips when he winks at you.

Neither of you could have known then - in that quiet hotel coffee shop at 1 AM - that this was the beginning of something that would change your lives.

Singapore, 2015

The paddock is eerily quiet now, the usual chaos of race day reduced to a whisper of distant maintenance and soft lighting. You're sitting on one of the team benches, the night air cool against your skin. Max is close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that the line between friendship and something more feels increasingly blurred.

It wasn't a sudden thing, this connection with Max. It had been a slow burn, a gradual unraveling that began that night in the hotel coffee shop and grew through stolen moments between races, brief conversations in crowded paddocks, and late-night messages that became increasingly frequent.

At first, it was simple curiosity. You'd catch each other's eye across the paddock, exchange a knowing smile. Then came the texts - random observations about races, inside jokes about team dynamics, comments that walked the line between friendly and flirtatious. Max had a way of making you laugh like no one else could, his wit sharp and unexpected.

He nudges you playfully. "So, daughter of the most powerful team principal in Formula 1. Must be interesting."

You roll your eyes, but there's a smile tugging at your lips. "Not as glamorous as you might think."

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow. "Try me."

You pause, considering. The weight of your father's reputation is something you've carried your entire life - a constant backdrop to every interaction, every moment.

"Imagine," you say slowly, "having every conversation potentially recorded, every interaction analyzed. One wrong move and it's not just about you, but about your family's reputation."

Max's expression shifts. There's understanding there - he knows something about familial expectations, about the pressure of carrying a name.

"My father," he says quietly, "Jos Verstappen. Not exactly a walk in the park."

The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard. These moments have become more frequent - brief windows where the polished racing personas fall away, revealing something raw and real.

"Tell me," you prompt softly.

He takes a deep breath. "Constant pressure. Every race, every test, every moment - it's like I'm living not just for myself, but for some expectation he's created. Sound familiar?"

You laugh, but it's a sound tinged with something harder. Sadness. Recognition. "Absolutely."

Your conversations have been like this lately - layers peeling back, revealing something raw and real beneath the polished exterior of Formula 1.

"Sometimes," Max continues, "I wonder if I'm racing for myself or for the legacy everyone else wants me to create."

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the night. "Little Wolff?"

Lewis approaches, his team kit still impeccable despite the late hour. His eyes narrow when he sees Max, taking in your proximity.

Lewis had been a constant in your life long before Max entered the picture. Since joining Mercedes, he'd taken on a role that was part mentor, part protective older brother. It wasn't an official designation, but in the Mercedes family, it might as well have been law.

Lewis knew everything about you - your hopes, your fears and everything in between. He was more than just your father's driver. He was family.

"Oh," Lewis says, a mix of surprise and something else - protection, wariness. "Verstappen."

Max stands immediately. "I was just leaving," he says quickly, a touch of nervousness breaking through his usual confidence. "See you around."

As Max walks away, Lewis turns to you, his protective big brother persona fully activated. "What," he says slowly, "was that about?"

You start walking together, the paddock lights casting long shadows. Lewis' stride is purposeful, matching yours.

"Nothing," you say, but the word sounds unconvincing even to your own ears, "He's my friend."

"Friend," he says, uncertainty in his voice, "Just be careful, okay? Things are never that simple in this paddock" he'd said, and you knew he meant more than just about Max.

You said nothing. But you heard him. You always did.

Barcelona, 2016

The champagne sparkles in the late afternoon sun as you watch from a secluded corner of the paddock. You smile as you watch Max on that podium - the youngest winner in Formula 1 history. Your smile is wide, uncontrolled, and you're grateful for the relative privacy of your spot. If anyone noticed that your eyes never left Max, that your smile was meant only for him, they didn't say.

You remember the first time you saw him race, really race - not just in videos or testing. The raw talent, the fearlessness that made your breath catch. Over the past year, you'd watched him grow from that confident teenager in the Melbourne coffee shop into someone who commanded respect on track. And somewhere along the way, between stolen moments in the paddock and late-night conversations, he'd become so much more than just another driver.

The past year had been a dance of almost-moments and careful distances. Shared glances across crowded rooms, text messages that made you smile at 3 AM, touches that lingered just a second too long. You'd both known the complications, the impossibility of it all - the Mercedes team principal's daughter and Red Bull's rising star. It was like a modern Romeo and Juliet, except instead of warring families, it was competing Formula 1 teams.

Later that evening, you stand in your father's office doorway, heart hammering but determined. Toto is absorbed in post-race papers, reading glasses perched on his nose, looking every bit the formidable team principal even hours after the race.

"Papa?"

He looks up, his expression softening slightly at the sight of you. "Yes, Schatz?"

"I'm going out," you say, trying to keep your voice casual while mentally rehearsing your prepared explanation.

Toto's eyebrows rise slightly. "Out?"

"With some friends," you elaborate, grateful for years of practice at maintaining your composure under his scrutiny. "To celebrate the race."

He sets his papers down, removing his glasses. "Friends from the team?"

Your heart skips. "Just… friends from the paddock," you say carefully. "Daniel invited me."

"Ricciardo?" His tone sharpens slightly.

"He's always been nice to me," you reason, which isn't a lie. Daniel has been a friend since his early days, always treating you like a friend rather than just the boss' daughter.

Toto studies you for a long moment, and you force yourself to meet his gaze steadily, even as your pulse races. You've always been close to your father - he's been your hero, your guide, your biggest supporter. The weight of potentially disappointing him sits heavy in your chest.

"Be careful," he finally says, though his tone suggests he's not entirely convinced. "You know how complicated things can be in this world."

"I know, Papa," you say softly. "I'll be careful. Promise."

Getting into the Red Bull celebration is easier than expected, thanks to Daniel's help. He meets you at a side entrance, his trademark grin wider than usual.

"Looking good, Wolff," he winks, pulling you into a quick hug. "Though I'm pretty sure your dad would kill me if he knew I was helping you sneak in."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," you say, trying to ignore the guilt that accompanies the words.

"Just…" Daniel's expression turns serious for a moment. "Be careful, yeah? With Max. He's my teammate and you're like my sister, and I don't want either of you getting hurt."

You're saved from responding by the noise of the party as he leads you inside. The atmosphere is electric - the joy of Max's first win filling the air along with music and laughter.

When Max spots you, his eyes widen, champagne glass freezing halfway to his lips. The surprise on his face quickly melts into something softer, more private. He excuses himself from his group and makes his way over, that familiar smirk playing on his lips - the one that never fails to make your heart skip.

"Should I be worried about Mercedes spies in our midst?" he teases, but his eyes are soft, drinking you in.

"You know me," you counter, matching his playful tone while trying to ignore how good he looks in his race winner's shirt, "I live for trouble."

"That you do, Wolff." He steps closer, just slightly, but enough to make your breath catch. "I didn't think you'd come."

"And miss your first win celebration? Never." You mean it to sound light, teasing, but your voice comes out softer, more sincere than intended.

"Still can't believe it," he says, shaking his head with a boyish grin that makes him look his age for once. "My first win."

"I can," you reply, taking a sip of champagne. "I've seen how you drive. It was only a matter of time."

He looks at you with an intensity that makes your heart stutter. "You've been watching me drive, then?"

"Someone has to keep an eye on the competition," you tease, but you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Is that what I am? Competition?" He moves closer, and suddenly the music seems far away.

"Among other things." Your voice comes out breathier than intended.

The conversation flows easily between you, as it always has. You talk about the race, about his incredible overtakes, about the moment he realized he was going to win. His eyes light up when he describes the feeling of crossing the finish line, and you find yourself caught between admiring his passion and getting lost in the way his hands move as he talks.

As the night progresses, the party gets louder, more crowded. Max notices you glancing around at the growing crowd.

"Want to get some air?" he asks, nodding toward a door that leads to a quieter area.

You follow him to a private terrace overlooking the city. The music is muffled here, and the night air is cool on your skin. You lean against the railing, city lights twinkling below.

"Better?" he asks, standing close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him.

"Much." You turn to face him, drawn in by the way the lights play across his features. "Though I have to say, you throw quite a party for a rookie winner."

He laughs, the sound low and warm. "Rookie? I've been racing since before I could walk."

"Oh right, I forgot - Max Verstappen, born in a go-kart," you tease, making him smile wider.

"You're impossible, you know that?" He shakes his head, but his eyes are fond.

"Part of my charm," you counter, feeling bold in the privacy of the moment.

"Is that what you call it?" He's even closer now, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes.

"Would you rather I was predictable?" You raise an eyebrow, challenging.

"Never." His voice drops lower, sending shivers down your spine. "Predictable is boring. And you, YN Wolff, are anything but boring."

The tension between you is electric, years of carefully maintained distance crumbling in this quiet moment. Your heart is racing so fast you wonder if he can hear it.

"Well," you say, stepping into his space until there's barely a breath between you, "I think the winner deserves a reward."

Before you can second-guess yourself, you're kissing him. It's everything and nothing like you imagined - soft at first, tentative, like you're both afraid of breaking something precious. Then his hand comes up to cup your face, and the kiss deepens, becomes more urgent. You can taste champagne on his lips, feel the solid warmth of him against you. Your fingers curl into his shirt, anchoring yourself as the world spins around you.

It's a perfect moment, suspended in time, until he pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

"You're trouble, Wolff," he murmurs against your lips, but he's smiling that smile that makes your heart flip. "Beautiful trouble."

"Scared?" you challenge softly, echoing your first conversation in Melbourne.

"Terrified," he admits, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "But in a good way."

You stay at the party longer than you should, caught in Max's orbit. Every smile, every touch, every shared look feels charged with possibility. But reality crashes back hours later when you return.

Your dad is waiting, his expression thunderous in a way you've rarely seen directed at you. Your stomach drops as soon as you see him, the lingering warmth from Max's kisses turning to ice in your veins.

"Would you like to explain," he says slowly, each word precise and controlled, "why did I receive a call informing me that my daughter was at a Red Bull celebration?"

"Papa, I-" you start, but he cuts you off with a sharp gesture.

"Don't." His voice is hard. "Don't try to fool me. I've seen you with Max Verstappen."

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words. You want to defend yourself, explain that Max isn't just the Red Bull driver he sees, that there's more to him.

"Do you have any idea," he continues, "what position this puts me in? Puts the team in?"

"It's not about the teams," you say quietly, finding your voice. "It's just-"

"Just what?" he challenges. "Just you and him? Nothing is ever just anything in Formula 1, YN. Every action has consequences. Every relationship has implications."

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "This sport isn't about fair. It's about winning. About loyalty. About trust." He pauses, letting the words sink in. "How can I trust you to put the team first when you're sneaking around with our biggest rival?"

The words hit you like a physical blow. "I would never betray the team," you whisper, hurt that he could even think that.

"Maybe not intentionally," he says, his voice softening slightly. "But this… whatever this is with Max Verstappen… it can't continue. I won't tell you again. Stay away from him."

You want to argue more, to make him understand. But you recognize the finality in your father's tone, the immovable force that has made him such a successful team principal. In this world of racing and rivalry, some lines aren't meant to be crossed.

As you leave, you touch your lips, still feeling the ghost of Max's kiss. Your phone buzzes - a message from Max: "Worth the trouble?"

You stare at the screen, tears threatening to fall. Sometimes the biggest crashes in Formula 1 aren't on the track at all. Sometimes they're in the space between what your heart wants and what the sport demands.

Germany, 2016

The German summer air is thick with tension. You can feel it crackling through the paddock like electricity before a storm. Nico and Lewis' rivalry has turned the Mercedes garage into a pressure cooker, and your father's stress is palpable. Being around him feels like walking on eggshells, which makes your secret meetings with Max even more dangerous.

You've gotten good at this dance over the past few months - stolen moments between practice sessions, hidden corners of the paddock, coded messages about "casual meetings" that are anything but casual. Every stolen kiss feels like a victory and a risk all at once.

The sun is setting over Hockenheim when you slip behind the Red Bull motorhome, your heart racing with the familiar mix of excitement and fear. Max is already there, leaning against the wall with that cocky smile that still makes your stomach flip.

"Cutting it close, Wolff," he murmurs as you approach. "Your father's been prowling the paddock all day."

"Worried?" you tease, even as you glance around to ensure you're alone.

His answer is to pull you against him, one hand sliding to your waist while the other cups your face. "About your father? Always. About this? Never."

The kiss is heated from the start - months of practice have taught you both exactly how to make each other breathless. His thumb traces your jawline as he deepens the kiss, and you press closer, fingers curling into his team shirt. You love how solid he feels against you, how his breath catches when you bite gently at his lower lip.

"You're going to get me in trouble," he whispers against your mouth, but his smile suggests he doesn't mind at all.

"You love trouble," you remind him, trailing kisses along his jaw.

His hands tighten on your waist. "I love-" he starts, but cuts himself off, choosing instead to capture your lips again in a kiss that makes you forget everything else.

You lose track of time, lost in the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your skin, the way he whispers your name like a prayer. It's dangerous and perfect and everything you shouldn't want but can't resist.

A sound makes you both freeze. You pull apart quickly, straightening your clothes, but it's too late.

Jos Verstappen stands at the corner of the motorhome, his expression dark and unreadable. Your blood runs cold at the sight of him.

"I… I should go," you manage, your voice shaky. Max's hand brushes yours briefly - a small comfort - before you hurry past his father, avoiding his stern gaze.

Behind you, you can hear Jos' voice, low and harsh in Dutch, but you don't stop to listen. Your heart is pounding as you make your way back to the paddock, wondering if this is the moment everything falls apart.

Max stands his ground as his father's disapproval fills the space between them.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jos demands in Dutch, his voice controlled but sharp. "The Wolff girl? Have you lost your mind?"

"It's not what you think-" Max starts, but Jos cuts him off.

"It's exactly what I think. You're letting yourself get distracted. By a Mercedes girl, no less. Toto Wolff's daughter?" Jos steps closer, his presence intimidating despite Max now being taller than him. "You're just starting to prove yourself in Formula 1. This is when you need to focus more than ever."

"I am focused," Max argues. "My results prove that."

"For now." Jos' voice turns cold. "But girls like that, from families like that - they're nothing but distractions. She'll get in your head, make you soft. And then what? You think Toto Wolff wants his daughter with a Red Bull driver? You think this ends well?"

Max clenches his jaw, fighting back the urge to defend you, to explain that you're different, that you understand the sport as well as he does. But he knows his father won't listen.

"Stay away from her," Jos says finally, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Focus on what matters. On winning and being champion. That's what we've worked for all these years. Don't throw it away for some girl."

The words hit harder than Max wants to admit, echoing his own doubts, his own fears about what this thing with you means. But he can't forget the way you look at him like you see past the racer, past the name, to who he really is.

Jos leaves him there in the growing darkness, with only the weight of expectations and the lingering taste of your kiss on his lips.

Monaco, May 2017

Another year, another dance of stolen moments and secret smiles. If anything, the warnings and opposition have only made whatever this is between you and Max more intense. Like a forbidden drug, each stolen moment leaves you craving more, even as the risks grow higher.

"This is a terrible idea," Max whispers as you pull him through your back door, "Your dad is literally upstairs."

"He's dead asleep," you assure him, carefully closing the door. "He took sleeping pills for his flight tomorrow. Besides, he sleeps like the dead anyway."

Max still looks like he's ready to bolt at any second. "YN, if he catches me here-"

"He won't." You tug him closer by his shirt. "Unless you keep talking so loud."

He glances nervously at the stairs. "Your room is up there? Past his?"

"Scared, Verstappen?"

"Terrified, actually." But he follows you anyway, both of you carefully avoiding the creaky third step you'd mapped out years ago during teenage sneaking attempts.

You're almost at your door when Max freezes. "Was that-"

"Just the house settling," you whisper, but your heart is racing too. "Come on, we're almost-"

A door opens down the hall.

Max actually whimpers. You shove him into your room just as Toto's voice calls out, "YN? Is that you?"

"Just getting water, Papa!" you call back, praying your voice sounds normal. "Go back to sleep."

"Everything okay?"

"Fine! Those pills should be kicking in, right?"

A yawn. "Ja, starting to feel them. Goodnight, Schatz."

"Night, Papa!"

You wait until you hear his door close before slipping into your room. You find Max standing perfectly still in the middle of the floor, looking absolutely terrified.

"I think I'm having a heart attack," he announces in a whisper. "I'm actually having a heart attack. I can see the headlines now: 'F1 Driver Dies of Fear in Team Principal's House.'"

You try not to laugh. "You're being dramatic."

"Dramatic?" His voice rises slightly before he catches himself. "YN, your father was ten feet away from me. Ten feet! Do you know what he would do to me if he found me here?"

"Well, first he'd probably have a heart attack himself-"

"Not helping!"

"Then probably murder you-"

"Still not helping!"

"And Lewis would hide the body-"

"Why did I agree to this?" He runs his hands through his hair. "I'm a professional athlete. I have championships to win. I can't die in Toto Wolff's house because his daughter is too pretty to say no to."

You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning. "You think I'm pretty?"

"I think you're trying to kill me." But his hands settle on your waist automatically. "If your father walks in right now-"

"He won't."

"But if he does-"

"Max." You kiss him softly. "Stop talking about my father when you're in my bedroom."

"Missed you," he murmurs against your mouth, hands already sliding under your shirt. "Watching you in the paddock all day, not being able to touch you…"

You smile against his lips. "Poor baby. Must be so hard being professional."

He responds by lifting you up, making you laugh as he carries you toward your bed. "You have no idea."

Hours later, you're tangled in your sheets, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin. The city's lights cast shadows across his face, making him look older than his twenty years.

"We should sleep," you say, even as you press closer to him. "You have meetings tomorrow."

"Meetings are overrated," he mumbles into your hair, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

"Says the guy who's already breaking records." Your fingers trail down his chest. "Future world champion can't skip meetings."

He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips. "Future world champion can do whatever he wants."

You fall asleep like that, wrapped in each other, pretending the world outside doesn't exist. But morning comes too soon, sunlight streaming through your windows and your alarm blaring way too early.

Max groans, burying his face in your neck. "Five more minutes."

"You said that twenty minutes ago," you remind him, even as you run your fingers through his hair. "You're already going to be late, and my father is still next room, remember?"

He lifts his head, giving you that boyish grin that still makes your heart skip. "Worth it."

But reality can't be held at bay forever. Max rushes to get dressed, stealing kisses between looking for his scattered clothes. You watch from your bed, sheet wrapped around you, trying to memorize how he looks in the morning light.

"Tonight?" he asks, pausing at your bedroom door.

"Text me," you say, and he gives you one last smile before he's gone.

Max is still smiling when he arrives at the Red Bull office, nearly an hour late for his morning meeting. The smile dies on his lips when he sees his father waiting outside, arms crossed and expression thunderous.

"You were with that girl weren't you? Nothing's changed" Jos demands without preamble, switching to Dutch.

"I was just-"

"Don't lie to me." Jos' voice is low, dangerous. "Are you trying to destroy everything we've worked for?"

"I'm not destroying anything," Max argues, frustration creeping into his voice. "My results-"

"Your results could be better," Jos cuts him off. "You could be focused on becoming champion instead of sneaking around with Toto Wolff's daughter. Do you think this is a game?"

"It's not a game-"

"Then what is it?" Jos steps closer, his presence still intimidating despite Max being taller now. "Love?" He spits the word like it's poison. "You think love wins championships? You think that girl is worth throwing away everything we've sacrificed for?"

Max clenches his jaw, the weight of years of his father's expectations pressing down on him. "I can handle both-"

"No." Jos' voice is final, absolute. "You can't. And you won't. This ends now. Cut her off."

"Or what?" The words slip out before Max can stop them, a rare challenge to his father's authority.

Jos' eyes turn cold. "Or I'll make sure Toto knows exactly what his precious daughter has been up to. How do you think that ends for her? For her relationship with her father? For her position in the paddock?"

The threat hangs in the air between them. Max feels his stomach turn to ice, knowing his father well enough to know this isn't an empty threat.

"Your choice, Max," Jos says, already turning away. "But make it soon. This distraction ends now, or there will be consequences. For everyone."

Max stands there long after his father leaves, the taste of your kisses still on his lips, now bitter with the weight of choices.

Monza, 2017

The Italian late summer heat feels suffocating as you finally corner Max behind the Ferrari motorhome - neutral territory. He's been dodging you since Hungary, responding to texts with one-word answers before stopping altogether. You've seen that look in his eyes when he spots you in the paddock - the way he quickly turns away, finds somewhere else to be.

"Hey stranger," you say, aiming for casual despite your racing heart. "Been a while."

He looks everywhere but at you, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "YN…" There's a warning in his voice that you choose to ignore.

"I've missed you," you continue, taking a step closer. "We haven't talked since-"

"We can't do this anymore." His words cut through the air like a knife.

You freeze, the practiced speech you'd prepared dying in your throat. "What?"

"This." He gestures vaguely between you, still not meeting your eyes. "Whatever this is. It has to stop."

"Just like that?" Your voice comes out steadier than you feel. "After everything?"

"I need to focus on racing." He sounds like he's reciting a rehearsed speech. "Just racing. No distractions."

The word 'distraction' hits you like a physical blow. "Is that what I am? A distraction?"

Finally, he looks at you, and for a moment you see something crack in his carefully constructed facade - pain, regret, something more. But then it's gone, replaced by a coldness you've never seen directed at you before.

"This was never going to work," he says flatly. "We both knew that. It'll only cause trouble - for you, for me, for our families. It's better to end it now."

You think about all the stolen moments, the late-night conversations, the way he'd look at you like you were the only person in a crowded room. All reduced to 'trouble'.

"Fine." You straighten your spine, channeling every ounce of Wolff pride you possess. "See you around, Max Verstappen."

You turn and walk away before he can respond, each step measured and controlled despite feeling like your world is crumbling. You make it all the way to the Mercedes motorhome before the tears start to fall.

You duck into what you think is an empty corner, trying to get yourself under control, when a familiar voice makes you jump.

"Little Wolff?"

Lewis stands there, concern etched across his features. He's known you since you were a kid, has watched you grow up in the paddock. In many ways, he's your brother.

"I'm fine," you say automatically, wiping at your eyes. "Just… allergies."

"Right," he says softly, not believing you for a second. "Because Monza is famous for its allergies."

A sob escapes before you can stop it, and suddenly Lewis is pulling you into a hug. You break down against his chest, all your carefully maintained composure crumbling.

"Hey, hey," he soothes, rubbing your back. "What happened? Who do I need to beat up?"

You laugh wetly against his shoulder. "Nobody. It's stupid. I'm stupid."

"You're one of the smartest people I know," he counters. "So whatever it is, it's not stupid."

You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes. "I just… I thought…" You shake your head. "It doesn't matter what I thought. Clearly I was wrong."

Understanding dawns in Lewis's eyes. He's not blind - he's probably noticed more than most about your relationship with Max, even if he's never mentioned it.

"Sometimes," he says carefully, "people make choices out of fear rather than what they really want. Especially in this world."

"He said I was a distraction," you whisper, the words still burning.

Lewis's expression hardens slightly. "He's young. And scared. And probably being pulled in a hundred different directions." He pauses. "Doesn't make it hurt any less though, does it?"

You shake your head, fresh tears threatening to fall.

"Come here." He pulls you into another hug. "For what it's worth, I think he's an idiot. But maybe this is for the best, he's not good for you."

You stay there for a while, letting Lewis comfort you, grateful for his presence and his wisdom. But you can't shake the image of Max's face, that moment when his mask slipped, and you'd seen the pain in his eyes. You wonder if Lewis is right - if this is really about fear rather than feeling.

But in the end, you suppose it doesn't matter. A choice is still a choice, even if it's made for the wrong reasons.

Monaco, Summer 2018

The bass thrums through your body as you down another shot, Lando cheering beside you. The club is packed - all of Monaco's elite young crowd mixed with racing's next generation. Your father would have an aneurysm if he saw you here, but that's half the fun.

"Another!" Lando shouts over the music, already signaling the bartender. He's technically too young to be here, but money and fame open most doors in Monaco.

"You're a bad influence, Norris," you laugh, but you don't stop him.

"Me?" He clutches his chest in mock offense. "I'm an angel. You're the one corrupting the youth."

"You're literally younger than me."

"Details, details." He hands you another shot. "To being young and irresponsible!"

You clink glasses with him, the alcohol burning pleasantly as it goes down. This is what you needed - no paddock politics, no disappointed looks from your father, no thoughts of…

"Oh shit," Lando says suddenly, following your gaze. "We can move to another section if you want."

Max has just walked in with a group of friends. He looks good - he always looks good - in dark jeans and a fitted black shirt. Your stomach does that familiar flip before you forcefully squash it down.

"Why should we move?" you say, perhaps a bit too loudly. "We were here first."

Lando gives you that knowing look he's perfected over the past year of friendship. "YN…"

"Don't start," you warn him. "I'm fine. It's fine. Ancient history."

"Right," he drawls. "That's why you drunk-called me crying about him last month."

"I did not!"

"'Lando,'" he mimics in a high voice, "'why doesn't he want meeeee?'"

You shove him playfully. "I hate you."

"You love me." He grins. "I'm your favorite driver now."

"You're not even in F1 yet."

"Yet!" He wraps an arm around your shoulders. "Next year though. Then I'll be beating your ex's ass on track."

"He's not my ex," you mutter. "We were never actually together, remember?"

"Right, just sneaking around making out for like a year and a half. Totally casual."

You're about to retort when movement catches your eye. Max is at the bar now, and there's a girl with him. Tall, blonde, model-beautiful. She's touching his arm, laughing at something he's saying, and he's leaning in close to hear her over the music.

"YN…" Lando's voice has that warning tone.

"I need another drink," you announce, turning back to the bar.

Three shots later, you're on the dance floor with Lando, trying to forget the scene playing out at the bar. But your eyes keep drifting over, watching as Max gets closer to the blonde, his hand now on her waist.

"Stop torturing yourself," Lando says in your ear.

"I'm not-" you start, but the words die in your throat as you watch Max lean down and kiss the girl.

Something inside you snaps. You scan the crowd, spotting a guy who's been eyeing you all night. He's good-looking enough - dark hair, nice smile, probably a trust fund kid like half the people here.

"YN," Lando tries to grab your arm, but you're already moving.

You approach the guy with purpose, channeling every ounce of confidence the alcohol has given you. "Want to dance?"

He looks surprised but pleased. "Absolutely."

You let him pull you close, perhaps closer than necessary. You can feel eyes on you - Lando's concerned ones, and maybe, just maybe, someone else's too.

The guy - you think he said his name was Alex or Alec - is a good dancer. His hands are respectful but firm on your hips as you move to the music. When he leans down to kiss you, you let him.

It's not a bad kiss. He knows what he's doing. But he doesn't taste right, doesn't feel right. His hands aren't calloused from racing. He doesn't smell like motor oil and expensive cologne. He's not… him

But you kiss him anyway. When you finally pull back from the kiss, Lando is at your elbow.

"I think we should head out," he says, glancing meaningfully at your nearly empty glass.

"I'm having fun," you protest, even as the room spins slightly. Alex-or-Alec's hands are still on your waist.

"YN." Lando's voice is firmer now. "Come on."

You turn back to Alex-or-Alec, pulling him down for another kiss. It's messy and desperate and you can taste the expensive whiskey on his breath. You're proving something, you think, though you're not sure what or to whom anymore.

Through the haze of alcohol and bass-heavy music, you hear a familiar voice.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Max is standing there, his face tight with anger. The blonde from earlier is nowhere to be seen, but there's another girl hovering behind him - brunette this time.

"Having fun," you say sweetly, pressing closer to Alex-or-Alec. "You should try it. Oh wait, you already are."

"You don't even know this guy," Max snaps.

"His name is Alex." You pause. "Or Alec."

"It's Adrian," the guy supplies helpfully.

"Whatever." Max steps forward. "You're drunk. You need to go home."

"And you need to mind your own business." You turn to Adrian with an exaggerated smile. "Want to get out of here?"

"YN," Lando pleads. "Don't."

"Sure," Adrian grins, clearly oblivious to the tension. "My place isn't far."

Max moves so fast you barely register it, suddenly between you and Adrian. "She's not going anywhere with you."

"Excuse me?" You push at his chest. "You don't get to decide that. You lost that right when you-" You cut yourself off, aware you're saying too much.

"When I what?" Max challenges, his eyes dark. "When I did exactly what you're doing right now?"

"No," you laugh, but it comes out bitter. "When you decided that sneaking around was fine until it wasn't. When you started showing up to every event with a new girl on your arm. When you-"

"YN," Lando tugs at your arm. "Not here."

You shake him off. "Go back to your girlfriend, Max. Or girlfriends. I lost count tonight."

"You're being ridiculous."

"And you're being a hypocrite." You grab Adrian's hand. "Let's go."

Max's hand closes around your wrist. "You're not leaving with him."

"Get your hands off me." Your voice is ice cold. "You don't get to play protective boyfriend when it suits you. Go find another model to add to your collection."

Something flashes in his eyes - hurt maybe, or anger. "Fine. Do what you want. You always do anyway."

"Exactly. I do what I want." You turn to Adrian. "Sorry, but I've changed my mind. Turns out I have standards."

You shake off Max's grip and push past him, heading for the exit. Lando hurries after you, already calling for a car.

"YN, wait-" Max calls after you.

"Go to hell, Verstappen."

Outside, the Monaco air is cool against your flushed skin. Lando wraps his jacket around your shoulders as tears start to fall.

"I hate him," you whisper.

"No, you don't." Lando pulls you into a hug. "That's the problem."

The morning sunlight streaming through the windows feels like actual daggers in your skull. You're nursing your third cup of coffee, wearing sunglasses indoors like the walking cliché you are, when your father's voice cuts through your hangover haze.

"Would you care to explain these?"

Toto slides his phone across the breakfast table. Your stomach drops as you see the photos - you dancing with Adrian, Max confronting you, your tearful exit with Lando. The Monaco nightlife paparazzi are relentless, and you were too drunk to notice them.

"Papa, I-"

"No." His voice is quiet but firm. That's worse than yelling. "This stops now, YN. This... rebellion phase of yours. It stops."

Lewis and Valtteri are suddenly very interested in their breakfast plates. Susie, your stepmother, places a gentle hand on your father's arm, but doesn't contradict him.

"It wasn't-"

"Wasn't what?" Toto's accent gets thicker when he's angry. "Wasn't you, drunk in a club, making headlines again? Wasn't you creating another PR nightmare for the team?"

Your head throbs. "I'm not part of the team."

"No? Then why does every tabloid headline read 'Mercedes Boss's Daughter in Club Drama with Red Bull Star'?"

You wince. Both at his words and at the volume.

"The drinking, the parties, the public scenes - it needs to stop." He leans forward. "You're not just any teenager, liebling. Everything you do reflects on this family, on this team."

"That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair." He softens slightly. "I know this past year has been... difficult."

You feel Lewis shift beside you. He knows - of course he knows. He's probably the only one at this table who knows the full story of you and Max.

"But this self-destructive behavior cannot continue." Your father's voice is final. "You're grounded."

"I'm twenty one!"

"And living on my yacht, in my house, representing my name." He raises an eyebrow. "Would you prefer to go back to boarding school?"

The threat lands. You sink lower in your chair.

"No, sir."

"Good." He turns to his own coffee. "No more clubs. No more parties. And for God's sake, no more scenes with Max Verstappen."

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You know without looking it's probably Lando checking on you. Or worse, Max.

"YN." Your father's voice draws your attention back. "I mean it. Whatever is going on between you two... it ends now."

"Nothing is going on," you mutter.

"Then it should be easy to maintain distance."

Susie finally speaks up. "Why don't you come work with me for a while? Help with the She Moves Forward initiative?"

You know it's a peace offering - a way to keep you busy and out of trouble. But the thought of structured days and responsible tasks makes your hangover worse.

"Fine," you concede, if only to end this conversation.

Lewis nudges you under the table - a small gesture of solidarity. Valtteri offers a sympathetic smile.

"Good." Your father stands. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have damage control to handle."

After he leaves, Lewis slides a bottle of Advil towards you. "Here. You look like death."

"Thanks," you grumble, dry-swallowing two pills.

"He's right, you know," Lewis says quietly. "About Max."

"Not you too."

"YN." His voice is gentle. "You can't keep doing this to yourself. The drinking, the acting out - it's not going to make it hurt less."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't." He stands, squeezing your shoulder. "Just... think about what you're really angry at. Because I don't think it's your father, or the team, or even Max."

"I'm going back to bed," you announce to no one in particular.

"Honey," Susie calls after you. "This doesn't have to be a punishment. Maybe it's an opportunity."

You pause at the door. "For what?"

"To figure out who you are without all the drama. Without..." she hesitates. "Without defining yourself by who you're trying to hurt."

You think about Max's face last night, about the girls he was with, about how none of it made you feel better.

"Yeah," you say quietly. "Maybe."

The air feels thick and oppressive as you stumble out of another club, the world spinning slightly. You're not entirely sure how you ended up here - after the disastrous night a few weeks ago, you'd promised yourself (and your father) that you were done with the party scene. But one text from Lando about needing to "get out" had quickly spiraled.

Except Lando had bailed last minute with food poisoning, and you'd gone anyway. Because you're nothing if not stubborn.

The familiar figure of Charles Leclerc materializes beside you. "YN? Are you okay?"

"Charles!" You throw your arms around him, nearly losing your balance. "My favorite Ferrari boy!"

He steadies you with practiced ease. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Lost count," you admit cheerfully. "But it's fine. Everything's fine."

Charles sighs, pulling out his phone. "I'm calling Lewis."

"No!" You grab for his phone but miss entirely. "Not Lewis. He'll tell Papa."

"Good. Maybe he should."

You slump against the wall, suddenly exhausted. "Everyone's so disappointed in me."

Charles' expression softens as he puts the phone to his ear. "We're worried, not disappointed."

Twenty minutes later, you hear the distinctive rumble of Lewis's car. He jumps out, concern etched on his face.

"YN? What were you thinking?"

"That alcohol makes feelings go away?" you offer weakly.

Lewis turns to Charles. "Thanks for calling me."

"Of course. Take care of her."

The ride home is quiet until Lewis finally speaks. "This has to stop."

"I know," you whisper.

"No, I mean it really has to stop. You're hurting yourself, and for what? To prove something to Max?"

"It's not about Max."

"Isn't it?"

You stare out the window, tears forming. "I need to get away from here."

"What do you mean?"

"The paddock, the drama, all of it." You turn to him. "I can't keep doing this. Being the Mercedes princess, the ex-whatever of Max Verstappen. I need… space."

Lewis is quiet for a moment. "Maybe that's not a bad idea. Take some time, figure out who you are away from all this."

"Will you help me convince Papa?"

"Yeah," he says softly. "I'll help. But you have to promise me - no more nights like this."

You nod, the weight of everything finally catching up to you. "I promise."

As Lewis helps you out of the car, you freeze. Toto is standing in the doorway, still in his sleeping clothes. Your stomach drops and fresh tears spring to your eyes - this is it, the final disappointment.

But instead of the anger you expect, your father simply opens his arms.

You practically fall into them, suddenly sobbing. "I'm so sorry, Papa. I'm so sorry."

"Shh," he soothes, holding you tight like he did when you were little. "You're alright, liebling. You're alright."

"I can't-" you hiccup against his chest. "I can't do this anymore. I need to get out of here."

"Out of where?"

"Monaco. The paddock. All of it." You pull back slightly to look at him. "I need space. To figure out who I am without… without all of this."

Toto exchanges a look with Lewis over your head. "I know," he says softly, surprising you. "I've seen it coming."

"You have?"

He cups your face in his hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs. "You're my daughter. Of course I have. I just needed you to realize it yourself."

"I'm tired, Papa," you whisper. "Of being the Mercedes princess, of the gossip, of seeing…" You trail off, but they all know what you mean. Who you mean.

"Then go," he says simply. "Find yourself. The paddock will still be here when you're ready."

"You're not mad?"

He laughs softly. "Oh, we'll discuss tonight's adventure when you're less drunk. But no, liebling. I'm not mad. Sometimes we need to step away to see things clearly."

Lewis steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. "We've got your back, little Wolff. Whatever you need."

Fresh tears fall as you're overwhelmed by their support. "I love you both so much."

"And we love you," Toto kisses your forehead. "Now, let's get you to bed. We can make plans tomorrow."

As they help you inside, you feel lighter somehow. Like maybe this isn't an ending, but a beginning. A chance to become someone new - or maybe to find who you've been all along, underneath the labels and expectations.

Austria, 2020

The familiar scent of rubber and fuel hits you as you step into the Mercedes garage for the first time in almost two years, your heart doing a little flip at being back after so long. Everything looks exactly the same, yet somehow different - or maybe you're the one who's different now.

"Little Wolff!" Lewis' voice booms across the garage before you're engulfed in a bone-crushing hug that lifts you off your feet. "Finally back where you belong!"

You laugh, squeezing him back just as tight. "You literally saw me at Christmas, Lewis!"

"That's not the same and you know it," he sets you down but keeps his hands on your shoulders, studying your face. "Christmas is family time. This," he gestures around the garage, "this is home."

Looking at him now, you can see the genuine joy in his eyes. Lewis has always been your second father, and these past two years, he's been your biggest cheerleader from afar, always sending encouraging messages when you were climbing mountains in Nepal or teaching English in Thailand.

"She's hardly been here five minutes and you're already monopolizing her, Lewis?" Your father's voice carries that familiar warmth that makes your chest tight with happiness. Your relationship with him has transformed during your time away - all those long phone calls and video chats where you really talked, not just about racing but about life, dreams, fears. Distance made you both realize what you'd been missing.

"Papa," you smile, walking into his open arms. He holds you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Welcome home, liebling," he murmurs. "The garage hasn't been the same without you."

"I missed you too," you say, then pull back with a grin. "But I need to go see someone else before he thinks I've forgotten him entirely."

Toto laughs. "Go on then. Lando's been asking about you non-stop since he heard you were coming back."

You practically skip your way to the McLaren garage, your heart light. The past two years have given you perspective, helped you understand yourself better. You're not the angry, lost girl who fled Monaco anymore. You're stronger now, more sure of who you are outside of being "Toto Wolff's daughter" or "Max Verstappen's conquest."

"YN!" Lando's screech of delight echoes through the garage as he launches himself at you. "You're back, you're finally back!"

"I missed you so much, you idiot," you ruffle his hair, noting how he's grown even more into himself. He's not the shy rookie anymore - he's coming into his own as a driver.

"Group hug!" Carlos appears, wrapping his long arms around both of you. "Welcome back, pequeña. It's been too quiet without you here to keep this one in line."

"Oi!" Lando protests, but he's beaming.

You're in the middle of telling them about your adventures in Japan when movement catches your eye. Your words trail off as you see him - Max, walking past the garage with Christian. He's filled out more, shoulders broader, face more mature. Your heart does that familiar stutter-step it always did around him.

Two years haven't completely erased the memory of his hands on your skin, his laugh against your neck, the way he used to look at you like you were his entire world. First loves leave permanent marks, and Max Verstappen had branded himself onto your heart when you were both too young to understand the weight of it all.

He must feel your gaze because he turns, and for a moment, your eyes lock. There's something there - recognition, remembrance, maybe even regret. You see him swallow hard, his step faltering just slightly. But neither of you moves to bridge the gap.

You turn back to Lando and Carlos, forcing a smile, but your mind is still with that brief moment of eye contact. You're not that lovesick teenager anymore, but part of you wonders if you'll ever fully get over Max Verstappen. If anyone ever really gets over their first love, or if they just learn to live with the echo of what could have been.

"YN?" Lando's voice brings you back to the present. "You okay?"

You look at your friend's concerned face and give him a genuine smile this time. "Yeah, I am. Just… remembering."

Carlos squeezes your shoulder knowingly. "The past is the past, si? You're here now, that's what matters."

You nod, grateful for their understanding. You're not the same person who left two years ago, running from heartbreak and confusion. You're stronger now, wiser. Ready to write a new chapter.

Even if sometimes, just sometimes, you still feel the ghost of an old love story tugging at your heart.

Barcelona, 2020

The Barcelona night is warm and heavy with memories as you sit at the outdoor terrace of the restaurant. Daniel's telling some ridiculous story about a kangaroo, but your attention keeps drifting to the other end of the table where Max sits, deliberately positioned as far from you as possible.

Five years ago, you'd kissed him for the first time just a few streets from here. After his first win, giddy with freedom and teenage rebellion.

"So how was Bali?" Charles asks making your come back to your senses,"The surfing photos were insane."

"Almost died about twelve times," you laugh. "But worth it."

"She's exaggerating," Max comments casually, surprising everyone at the table. It's the first time he's directly addressed anything about your travels. "I saw the videos. Your form wasn't that bad."

You catch his eye across the table. "Been keeping tabs on me, Verstappen?"

He shrugs, a hint of that old smirk playing at his lips. "Hard not to when you're all over everyone's Instagram stories."

The tension at the table shifts slightly - not gone, but different. Lando kicks your foot under the table, raising an eyebrow when you look at him. You ignore him.

The conversation flows easier after that, stories and laughter bouncing around the table. You find yourself watching Max when he's not looking - the way he's grown into his features, how his laugh is deeper now, how he still runs his hand through his hair when he's trying not to smile.

As the night winds down, you end up being the last two waiting for cars. The others had filtered out gradually - Daniel dragging Charles off to some club, Lando claiming early training, Carlos heading home with his father.

"So," Max breaks the silence first, hands in his pockets. "Two years."

"Two years," you echo, leaning against the wall. "Feels longer sometimes."

"And shorter," he adds, then glances at you. "You look good. Happy."

"I am. Mostly." You study his profile in the streetlights. "You've changed too."

He laughs softly. "Had to grow up sometime, right? Can't be the paddock's problem child forever."

"No more sneaking around in garages?" The words slip out before you can stop them.

His eyes darken slightly at the memory. "Bit harder to get away with that these days. Plus, there hasn't been anyone worth the risk."

The weight of unspoken things hangs between you. All those stolen moments - behind motorhomes, in empty conference rooms, dark corners of victory parties. Never official, never acknowledged, but burning so bright it scared you both.

"Want to come up to my place?" he asks suddenly. "Just to talk. Properly. Without…" he gestures vaguely at the paddock world around you.

You should say no. But two years of distance have made you forget how magnetic he is, or maybe just made you brave enough to pretend you can resist it. "Okay."

The penthouse is exactly what you'd expect - sleek and modern, with a view that makes you catch your breath. You walk to the windows, Barcelona sprawling below like a constellation.

"Remember that night after your first win?" you ask softly. "When we snuck onto the roof?"

"Papa Wolff nearly had a heart attack," Max comes to stand beside you, close enough that your arms almost touch. "Worth it though."

"Was it?" You turn to look at him. "All of it? The sneaking around, the fights with our families, the constant hiding?"

"You know it was." His voice drops lower. "At least, it was for me."

"Max…"

"I've missed you," he admits quietly. "Not just… not just the physical stuff. I missed talking to you. Making you laugh. The way you'd roll your eyes every time I said something stupid in press conferences."

"I still do that," you smile despite yourself. "Some things don't change."

"Maybe they shouldn't." He steps closer, and suddenly you're eighteen again, heart racing at his proximity. "Maybe some things are worth holding onto."

When he kisses you, it feels like muscle memory. Your body remembers this dance - the way his hands find your waist, how he tastes like wine and possibilities. It's softer than the desperate kisses you used to share in dark corners, but somehow more dangerous for it.

You pull back first, breathing hard. "We can't."

"Why not?" His thumb traces your cheekbone. "We're not kids anymore. Who cares what anyone thinks?"

"I do," you step away, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I left to get away from this, Max. From sneaking around, from being the paddock scandal waiting to happen. I built a life where I'm not defined by who I'm secretly sleeping with or whose daughter I am."

"It wouldn't be like before-"

"Wouldn't it? The politics haven't changed. Our families still wouldn't approve."

"I don't care about any of that," he reaches for you but you step back.

"That's the problem," your voice cracks. "I had to live with all of it. The whispers, the judgment, watching my father's face every time there was another rumor about us. I can't go back to that."

"YN, please-"

"I should go." You grab your phone from the counter. "This was a mistake."

At the elevator, you turn back one last time. He's still by the window, silhouetted against the city lights. "For what it's worth," you say softly, "you were my first love. Maybe that's why we have to let it stay in the past."

The elevator doors close on his response, and you lean against the wall, heart pounding. Some part of you will probably always want Max Verstappen. But you've worked too hard to become your own person to let that want destroy everything again.

Even if walking away feels like leaving part of yourself behind.

Monaco, 2020

The yacht party is winding down, the late hour thinning out the crowd until somehow you find yourself alone on the upper deck. The Mediterranean breeze carries fragments of music and laughter from below, but up here it's quiet enough to hear your own thoughts - dangerous, when they all seem to revolve around him.

You hear his footsteps before you see him. You don't need to turn around to know it's Max - your body has always been attuned to his presence, like a compass finding north.

"Hiding?" His voice is soft as he comes to stand beside you at the railing.

"Just needed some air." It's not entirely a lie. "Shouldn't you be downstairs? This is your best friend's party."

"Daniel can handle it on his own," he shrugs, looking out at the harbor lights. "Needed some air too."

The silence that follows should be uncomfortable, but it isn't. That's the problem with Max - everything still feels as natural as breathing. Two years away hasn't changed how your body relaxes in his presence, how the air seems to crackle with possibility when he's near.

"Remember that party in Singapore?" he asks suddenly.

You smile despite yourself. "When we hid from Lewis for half of the night?"

"You were wearing that blue dress," he continues, and something in his voice makes your heart skip. "I couldn't take my eyes off you all night."

"Max…"

"I still can't," he admits quietly. "Even now. Even when I'm supposed to be focusing on other things, my eyes just… find you."

You grip the railing tighter. "We can't do this again."

"Can't we?" He turns to face you now. "Because ever since Barcelona, since that kiss…"

"That was a mistake."

"Was it?" He steps closer, and you fight the urge to move away. "Because it didn't feel like a mistake. It felt like coming home."

The words hit you right in the chest, because he's right. That's exactly what it felt like - like every cell in your body recognizing where it belonged.

"Nothing's changed," you say, but your voice wavers. "The politics, our families, the media…"

"Everything's changed," he counters. "We're not those kids anymore, sneaking around without putting a label on it because we didn't know better. I know exactly what I want now. Who I want."

"Max, please-"

"Two years, YN. Two years of watching you live your life through Instagram stories and paddock glimpses. Two years of trying to convince myself I was over you." His hand finds yours on the railing. "But the truth is, a part of me has belonged to you since that first night in Melbourne, and I don't think that's ever going to change."

You should pull your hand away. Instead, you turn it over, letting your fingers intertwine with his. "I tried so hard to become someone new," you whisper. "Traveled the world, built this whole independent life. But the moment I saw you again…"

"I know." His other hand comes up to cup your face, and you lean into the touch instinctively. "Because I felt it too."

"It scares me," you admit. "How easy it is to fall back into this. How right it feels when it should feel wrong."

"Maybe that's exactly why it isn't wrong." His thumb traces your cheekbone. "Maybe some things are just meant to be, despite everything else."

When he kisses you this time, it's different from Barcelona. That kiss had been hesitant, testing. This one feels like surrender, like finally stopping a fight you were always meant to lose. Your hands find his chest, feeling his heart racing under your palm, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. "I love you," he whispers. "You're the first girl I ever loved, and I think maybe you'll be the last. I know it's complicated, I know there are a million reasons why we shouldn't, but I don't care about any of them. I just want you."

You close your eyes, overwhelmed by the truth in his words, by how perfectly they mirror your own feelings. "I never stopped loving you," you confess. "I tried. God, I tried so hard. But it's like… it's like a part of me just belongs to you, and no amount of distance can change that."

"Then be with me," he pleads softly. "For real this time. No more running."

"How?" But you're already melting into him as he pulls you closer. "Nothing's changed, Max. My father would still lose it, Christian would still disapprove, the media would have a field day…"

"So we don't tell them." His hands slide to your waist. "We keep it between us. No sneaking around in garages this time, no risky moments in the paddock. Just us, in private, doing this properly."

You should say no. You know all the reasons why this can't work. But as his lips find yours again, you realize you're tired of fighting this magnetic pull between you.

"If anyone finds out…" you start.

"They won't," he promises. "We'll be careful. We're not those reckless kids anymore."

And maybe that's the key difference - you're not acting on impulse anymore, not diving in blindly. You're choosing this, fully aware of the consequences, of what you both stand to lose.

"Okay," you whisper against his mouth. "Okay."

When he kisses you again, it feels like every kiss you've ever shared and completely new all at once. Like coming home and starting an adventure. Like an ending and a beginning wrapped into one.

Later, you'll figure out the logistics, the careful dance of secrecy. But for now, you let yourself exist in this moment.

Some things, you realize, are worth keeping secret. Some loves are worth protecting, even if it means hiding them from the world.

Morning light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Max's apartment, painting everything in soft gold. You're awake before him, taking in the familiar weight of his arm around your waist, the steady rhythm of his breathing against your neck. It feels surreal - like stepping back in time, but with the sharp edge of awareness that comes with being older.

You feel him stir, his arm tightening slightly around you. "You're thinking too loud," he mumbles against your shoulder.

"Sorry," you turn to face him, finding his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Hard not to."

He props himself up on an elbow, studying your face. The morning light makes everything feel more raw, more real. "Having second thoughts?"

"No," you say honestly. "Just… thinking about how we make this work."

"We managed before."

"And look how that ended." You trace a pattern on his chest absently. "We were reckless then. Every stolen moment was a near-miss."

He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips. "So we're smarter this time. No more risky moments in the paddock. No sneaking around where anyone could see us."

"It's not just that." You sit up, pulling the sheet with you. "Max, if this gets out… it's not just about our families being angry. It could affect your career, the team dynamics. And my father-"

"Would probably try to have me assassinated," he finishes with a half-smile, but you can see the seriousness in his eyes. "I know. Trust me, I've thought about all of it."

"And you still want this?"

He sits up too, cupping your face in his hands. "More than anything. The question is, do you?"

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes. "You know I do. That's what scares me. How much I want this, despite everything."

"Then we figure it out." His thumb brushes your cheekbone. "We're not kids anymore. We know how to be discreet. Your place, my place, private locations only. No public appearances together unless we're with the whole group. No suspicious social media activity."

"No telling anyone," you add. "Not even Lando or Charles."

"Especially not them," he agrees. "The fewer people who know, the safer it is."

You open your eyes to find him watching you with that intense focus he usually reserves for racing. "It's going to be hard," you warn. "Pretending there's nothing between us in public. Watching you from a distance at races."

"We've had years of practice at that," he reminds you softly. "At least now I get to hold you afterward."

The simple statement makes your heart clench. You lean forward, pressing your forehead to his. "When did you get so good with words?"

"Must be all those media training sessions," he smirks, but then turns serious. "I meant what I said last night. I love you. Whatever we have to do to make this work, I'm in."

"I love you too," you whisper back. "God, I really do."

He kisses you then, slow and deep, like he's trying to memorize the moment. When you pull back, you're both breathing harder.

The morning light is brighter now, reality creeping in with the rising sun. Soon, you'll have to leave separately, go back to pretending there's nothing between you. But for now, you let yourself sink into his embrace, memorizing the feeling of being here, being his.

"This is crazy, isn't it?" you murmur against his chest.

"Probably," he agrees, pressing a kiss to your hair. "But some of the best things in life are a little crazy."

You know there will be challenges ahead - difficult moments, close calls, the constant strain of secrecy. But as Max pulls you back down onto the pillows, his lips finding yours with familiar hunger, you think maybe he's right.

Some things are worth the risk. Some loves are worth keeping secret.

The key card clicks softly as you slip into Max's Monaco apartment late on September 30th. You'd made your excuses to your friends early - a headache, an important call - knowing they wouldn't question it too much since they'd already planned Max's official celebration for tomorrow.

But tonight is just for the two of you.

You find him in the kitchen, already changed into sweatpants and a soft t-shirt, pulling something from the oven. The domestic scene makes your heart flutter.

"Is Max Verstappen actually baking?" you tease, dropping your bag.

He turns with that smile that's become exclusively yours - soft, unguarded, real. "It's just heating up the cake Victoria made. I'm not completely useless."

You cross the space between you, wrapping your arms around him from behind. "Happy birthday, baby."

He turns in your embrace, backing you against the counter. "This is already better than last year's birthday."

"Mm, because last year you weren't secretly dating your rival team principal's daughter?"

"Because last year I couldn't do this," he murmurs, before kissing you deeply, hands sliding under your shirt to find bare skin. You melt into him, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

The timer dings, making you both jump and then laugh.

"The cake can wait," he starts, but you push him back gently.

"Let's do this properly. Cake first, then presents, then…" you trail off suggestively.

"Fine," he sighs dramatically, but his eyes are sparkling. "But I'm holding you to that 'then'."

You sit cross-legged on his massive couch, sharing pieces of Victoria's chocolate cake straight from the tin. It's comfortable in a way that still surprises you sometimes - how easily you've fallen into these private moments, these glimpses of normalcy in your decidedly abnormal situation.

"Got you something," you say, reaching for your bag.

He raises an eyebrow. "Thought you were my present?"

"Cheesy," you throw a pillow at him, which he catches easily. "Here."

He unwraps the small package carefully. Inside is a simple leather bracelet, dark brown with a subtle pattern worked into it. "Turn it over," you say softly.

On the inside, barely visible unless you know to look, are your initials and the date from Monaco - the night everything changed.

"YN…" his voice is rough as he runs his thumb over the engraving.

"I know we can't do obvious things," you explain. "But I wanted you to have something… something that's just ours. Something you can wear without anyone knowing what it means."

He pulls you into his lap, kissing you with an intensity that makes your head spin. "I love it," he murmurs against your lips. "I love you."

"I love you too," you whisper back, heart full with how natural those words feel now. "Even if you are getting old."

He retaliates by tickling your sides until you're both breathless with laughter, ending up horizontal on the couch with you pinned beneath him.

"Twenty-three isn't old," he protests, pressing kisses down your neck.

"Ancient," you tease, but it turns into a gasp as he finds that sensitive spot below your ear. "Max…"

"Mm?"

"The cake…"

"Can wait," he finishes, hands already working on the buttons of your shirt. "Right now, I want to unwrap my other present."

Later, much later, you're tangled in his sheets, your head on his chest as he plays with your hair. The city lights twinkle through the windows, creating patterns on the ceiling.

"Thank you," he says softly.

"For what?"

"For this. For making my birthday special even though we have to hide. For loving me despite everything."

You prop yourself up to look at him, trace the line of his jaw with your finger. "Thank you for making it worth it."

He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Sometimes I wish we could just tell everyone. Walk into the paddock holding your hand, take you on real dates, post about you on Instagram like a normal couple."

"I know," you sigh, settling back against his chest. "Me too. But…"

"But it would cause chaos," he finishes. "I know. Doesn't stop me from wanting it though."

You lift your head again, kissing him softly. "Maybe someday. But for now, I'm happy just having you like this. These moments are ours, just ours."

His arms tighten around you. "I love you," he says again, like he can't help himself. "More than racing, more than winning, more than-"

"Don't," you laugh, pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't say more than racing. We both know that's a lie."

He grins, rolling you under him again. "Maybe it's a tie?"

"I can live with that," you smile up at him, pulling him down for another kiss.

The world outside keeps turning - tomorrow there will be the official party, the public celebrations, the careful distance you'll have to maintain. But tonight, in this space that's become your sanctuary, you can just be Max and YN, two people in love, celebrating another year together.

Even if the rest of the world doesn't know it yet.

Monaco, 2021

You're curled into Max's side on your couch, some Netflix show playing in the background that neither of you is really watching. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm while you scroll through your phone, both enjoying the calm before tomorrow's storm - the start of a new season, new expectations, new pressure.

"Nervous about tomorrow?" you ask, tilting your head to look at him.

He shrugs, but you can feel the slight tension in his shoulders. "Not nervous. Just�� ready. The car feels good, testing went well."

"Mm," you press a kiss to his jaw. "Maybe this is your year."

"Maybe," but his smile is confident as he turns to capture your lips properly. "Though right now I'm more interested in-"

Your phone buzzes loudly, Lando's name flashing on the screen. You answer it without thinking.

"Hey Lan-"

"I'm outside your place!" his cheerful voice cuts through. "Charles and I brought wine and that awful reality show you love. Open up!"

Your heart stops. "What?"

"Come on, it's freezing out here! I can see your lights on."

You sit up straight, panic flooding your system. "Lando, I-"

"Don't even try to say you're busy. It's the night before the first race, I know you're just sitting there overthinking everything."

Max is already moving, gathering his shoes and jacket silently. Your eyes meet across the room, both knowing how catastrophic it would be if Lando found him here.

"Give me five minutes," you say into the phone, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm… I need to put clothes on."

"Gross, too much information," Lando laughs. "Five minutes!"

You hang up, heart racing. "Shit, shit, shit."

"It's fine," Max is surprisingly calm as he pulls on his shoes. "I'll go out through the back stairs."

"What if they see you?" You're already scanning the room for any evidence of him - his Red Bull cap on the coffee table, his phone charger by the couch.

"They won't." He grabs his things efficiently, muscle memory from two years of sneaking around kicking in. "I'll text you when I'm clear."

Another knock at the door makes you both freeze. "YN!" Charles's voice this time. "We can hear you moving around!"

Max pulls you in for a quick, hard kiss. "I love you. Don't worry."

"Be careful," you whisper against his lips.

He flashes that cocky grin you love. "Always am."

You watch him disappear through your bedroom toward the back stairwell, then take a deep breath, running your hands through your hair to mess it up slightly - making your "just got out of bed" excuse more believable.

When you open the door, Lando immediately pushes past you with wine bottles clinking. "Finally! What were you really doing?"

"Told you, getting dressed." You accept Charles' hello kiss on the cheek, praying your face isn't as flushed as it feels.

"Your shirt's inside out," Charles points out, smirking.

You look down - shit, he's right. You'd thrown it on hastily after… earlier activities. "I was sleeping," you say quickly. "You guys interrupted my pre-race nap routine."

"At 9 PM?" Lando's already making himself at home on your couch - right where Max was sitting minutes ago. "Sure, sure."

Your phone buzzes with a text: "All clear. They didn't see me. Missing you already x"

Relief floods through you as Charles pours wine and Lando queues up the show. You settle into the evening, letting their familiar banter wash over you, trying to act normal even as your skin still tingles from Max's touch.

"You seem different lately," Charles observes suddenly, studying your face. "Happier."

"Just excited for the new season," you deflect smoothly, a skill you've perfected over the past year.

"Mm," he doesn't look entirely convinced. "No secret boyfriend we should know about?"

You laugh, the sound only slightly strained. "Right, because that worked out so well last time."

"Last time was Max," Lando points out. "Thank god you're both over that whole thing."

If only they knew. But you just smile and take a sip of wine, letting them move on to discussing tomorrow's race.

As the evening progresses, the wine flows and the reality show plays in the background. You're carefully avoiding any topics that might make Charles or Lando suspicious, laughing a bit too loudly at their jokes.

Lando, ever restless, decides to raid your kitchen for snacks. "Where do you keep the good stuff?" he calls out, opening cupboards.

Your heart immediately races. You know exactly what might be lurking in those cupboards - Max's favorite energy drink, a Red Bull can he'd left behind last time he was here. You stand up quickly, "I'll get it for you-"

But Lando's already moving, pulling open the refrigerator door. "Found it!" he announces, then pauses. His hand emerges holding a Red Bull can, but something else catches his eye. A water bottle with a distinctive Red Bull Racing team logo sits next to it.

"Huh," Charles looks over. "Isn't this Max's water bottle?"

You feel the blood drain from your face. "Oh, um-" Your mind races, searching for an explanation. "I... must have picked it up from somewhere. You know how these things get mixed up."

Lando turns, one eyebrow raised. The playful smile slowly morphs into something more knowing. "Mixed up, huh?"

Charles is watching you now, that sharp observant look that made him such a good racing driver now focused entirely on you.

"Yeah, I must've picked it up by accident, didn't even realize."

Lando shrugs and cracks open a packet of chips, seemingly satisfied with your explanation. But Charles continues to study you with that piercing gaze that makes you want to squirm.

Keeping this a secret is becoming harder and harder.

Silverstone, 2021

The English countryside blurs past your window as Max takes another curve, maybe a bit faster than necessary. It's nearly midnight, and you should both be resting before tomorrow's race, but these night drives have become your thing - the only time you can be truly alone during race weekends, truly free.

"You're showing off," you accuse, but you're smiling.

"Me? Never." He takes his eyes off the road for a second to grin at you, his hand finding yours across the console.

The radio plays softly in the background, some British pop song you don't know. The summer air rushing through the open windows carries the scent of grass and freedom. It feels perfect. Until it isn't.

It happens so fast - a deer appears out of nowhere, Max swerves to avoid it, but the road is narrow and dark. The tires lose grip on loose gravel, and suddenly you're spinning, the world turning into a kaleidoscope of shadows and panic.

The impact when it comes is brutal. Metal crunches, glass shatters, and everything goes still.

"YN?" Max's voice is tight with fear. "Baby, are you okay?"

You do a quick mental check. Everything hurts, but nothing seems broken. "I'm okay. You?"

"Fine." He's already trying to open his door, but it's jammed. The front of the car is wrapped around a tree, steam hissing from the hood. "Fuck. Fuck!"

Your phone is somewhere on the floor. When you retrieve it, the screen is cracked but working. "We need help."

"We can't call emergency services," Max says immediately. "It'll be all over the news in minutes."

He's right. You can already see the headlines: "Verstappen in Late Night Crash with Mercedes Boss's Daughter."

"Christian?" you suggest.

"He'll kill me. We have a race tomorrow." Max runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "We need someone who can be discreet, who has the resources to handle this quietly, who-"

You both realize it at the same time.

"No," Max says.

"He's the only one who can help us without this becoming a scandal."

"YN, he's the last person-"

"Max." You reach for his hand. "We don't have a choice."

He knows you're right. With a resigned sigh, he nods.

Your hands shake slightly as you dial Lewis's number. It rings three times before he answers, voice groggy with sleep.

"Little Wolff? It's midnight, what-"

"Lewis, I need your help. And I need you to not ask questions."

There's a pause, then rustling as he presumably sits up. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, but… we're stuck. Had an accident on the back roads near Silverstone. We need help getting the car towed without anyone finding out."

There's a pause. "We?"

You close your eyes. "I'm with Max."

The silence that follows is deafening. "Send me your location. Don't move. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

True to his word, headlights appear eighteen minutes later. Lewis steps out of his car, taking in the scene - the wrecked vehicle, you and Max standing by the roadside, the unspoken truth of why you were together at this hour.

"Are you both alright?" He asks first, concern overriding any other emotions.

"Just bruised," you answer. "The car took the worst of it."

He nods, already on his phone. "Angela's on her way with a tow truck. She'll be discreet."

Max steps forward. "Lewis, I-"

"Don't." Lewis holds up a hand. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for her." He looks at you, something sad in his expression. "How long?"

"Since last year."

He lets out a low whistle. "Well, that explains a few things."

The wait for Angela is tense. Lewis keeps his distance, occasionally speaking quietly into his phone. Max doesn't let go of your hand, thumb rubbing circles on your skin.

When Angela arrives with the tow truck, she doesn't bat an eye at the situation. The car is loaded efficiently, and arrangements are made to have it repaired at a private garage Lewis trusts.

"I'll drive YN home," Lewis says, and it's not really a question.

Max tenses beside you, but you squeeze his hand. "It's safer this way," you whisper. "Less suspicious if anyone sees us."

He knows you're right, again. "Text me when you're home?"

"Promise."

The drive with Lewis is quiet at first. Then the storm pours down.

"Of all the stupid, reckless things," he mutters, running a hand over his face. "A year? You've been sneaking around with him for a year? Again?"

"Lewis-"

"No." He turns to face you, anger and worry warring in his expression. "Do you have any idea what could happen if this gets out? What your father would-"

"I don't care!" The words burst out louder than intended, making your head throb. "I don't care what anyone thinks anymore."

"Well, you should!" Lewis's voice rises to match yours. "This isn't some game, YN. This is your life, your career, your family-"

"You think I don't know that?" You bite back. "You think we haven't spent the last year terrified of exactly that? Hiding everything, sneaking around, lying to everyone we care about?"

"Then why?" He throws his hands up in frustration. "Why risk everything for him?"

"Because I love him!" The words echo in the car. You lower your voice, tears threatening to fall. "I love him, Lewis. And he loves me. Isn't that enough?"

Lewis' expression softens slightly, but the worry remains. "Love isn't always enough, YN. Not in this world. Not with everything at stake."

"It has to be," you whisper. "Because I can't do this anymore - pretending I don't feel what I feel, acting like my heart doesn't race every time he walks into a room. I'm tired of hiding."

"He's not good for you," Lewis says quietly. "You remember how broken you were after-"

"He was nineteen," you cut him off. "We were both kids, both scared. Things are different now."

"Are they?" his voice is gentle but firm. "Because from where I'm standing, you're still sneaking around in the middle of the night, still hiding from everyone. That doesn't sound different to me."

You sink back into your seat, suddenly exhausted. "I'm not asking for your approval, Lewis. I'm just asking for you to trust that I know what I'm doing."

"Do you? Because getting into a car accident at 2 AM doesn't exactly scream good decision-making."

"That wasn't-" you start to defend, but he holds up a hand.

"You shouldn't have been out there in the first place. These secret meetings, these late-night drives… it's not sustainable, YN."

"I know," you admit quietly. "We know. We've been talking about telling people, about doing this properly."

Lewis studies your face for a long moment. "And what happens when the media finds out? When your father finds out? When the pressure becomes too much and he runs again?"

"He won't." Your voice is firm despite your injuries. "He's not that scared kid anymore, Lewis. He knows what he wants now."

"And what is that?"

"Me." You meet Lewis's gaze steadily. "He wants me. All of me, no matter what it costs. And I want him."

Lewis sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. "I can't support this, YN. I've watched him hurt you too many times."

"I know," you say softly. "And I love you for wanting to protect me. But I'm not asking for your support. I'm just asking you not to make this harder than it already is, I know you're worried. But please… please don't tell anyone. Not yet. Let us do this our way."

He doesn't respond, just pulls up the car outside your hotel and unlocks it so you can get out.

Silverstone, 2021. Race day

Your hands are still shaking slightly as you make your way through the paddock. Last night's crash left more than just physical bruises - the tension with Lewis, the close call, the reality of how fragile your secret is, it all weighs heavily.

The Mercedes garage is already buzzing with pre-race energy when you spot Lewis by his car, going through data with Peter. You wait until he's alone before approaching.

"Lewis," you say softly. "Can we talk?"

He glances around before responding, voice low. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Please. What you did last night-"

"Was a mistake," he cuts you off, finally turning to face you. "I should have called emergency services, protocol be damned."

"You know why we couldn't-"

"No, YN. You couldn't because you're sneaking around like teenagers. Do you have any idea what could have happened? If that tree had been a few inches to the left-"

"But it wasn't," you interrupt. "We're fine."

"Fine?" He scoffs. "You're both bruised, his car is wrecked, and I'm now complicit in your little romance."

"It's not a little romance-"

"Then what is it?" His voice rises slightly before he checks himself. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like the same pattern as before. You, him, secrets, lies."

"I told you last night - I love him."

"Love?" He lets out a bitter laugh. "Love doesn't hide, YN. Love doesn't put people in dangerous situations. Love doesn't-"

"Don't." Your voice cracks. "Don't pretend you understand what we're dealing with."

"Oh, I understand perfectly. You're playing girlfriend with my biggest rival while there's a championship at stake. You're risking everything - your reputation, your father's position, the team's integrity-"

"This isn't a game to me!" The words come out sharper than intended. A few mechanics glance your way, and you lower your voice. "This isn't about the championship or the team. This is about me and him."

"Nothing in this paddock is ever just about two people," Lewis says coldly. "You of all people should know that."

Before you can respond, Bono approaches. "Lewis, strategy meeting."

"I need to focus," Lewis tells you, his expression hardening. "I suggest you figure out where your loyalties lie before someone gets really hurt."

He walks away, leaving you standing there with a hollow feeling in your chest. Angela catches your eye, her expression sympathetic, and you wonder how much she knows.

The pre-race preparations pass in a blur. You go through the motions, smile when appropriate, but your mind keeps drifting to Max. You haven't seen him since Lewis dropped you off last night - you both agreed it was safer to stay apart until the race.

Then you're in the garage, watching the formation lap. Your father stands beside you, discussing something with the engineers, but their words sound distant.

Lap one. Copse Corner.

The contact happens so fast - Lewis's Mercedes alongside Max's Red Bull. The touch of wheels. Then Max's car is airborne, spinning, crashing into the barriers with devastating force.

The garage erupts in chaos. Screens show the replay from every angle. Your father is immediately in discussion with the stewards.

You can't breathe. Can't move. Your eyes are fixed on the smoking wreck of Max's car, willing him to move, to get out, to be okay.

"Racing incident," Toto argues. "Lewis had the line-"

Their voices fade to background noise as you watch the medical team reach the car. Your phone feels heavy in your pocket, but you can't check it - not here, not with everyone watching.

"YN," Angela touches your arm gently. "You look pale. Maybe some water?"

You follow her away from the garage, grateful for the excuse. As soon as you're out of sight, your composure breaks.

"I don't know if he's okay," you whisper, hands shaking. "I can't- I can't check my phone, I can't ask anyone, I can't-"

"Breathe," Angela steadies you. "Just breathe."

"I should be there. I should be with him. After last night, after everything-"

"I won't say anything," she promises quickly. "But YN... this is bigger than just keeping a secret now."

"I know," you admit. "God, I know. But I can't- I can't even ask if he's okay without raising suspicions."

The race continues. Lewis gets a ten-second penalty but fights back to win. The garage celebrates, and you have to join in, have to smile and cheer while your heart is somewhere else entirely.

Hours pass with no news. Social media is full of speculation, but nothing concrete. You catch snippets of conversation - "hospital for checks" and "conscious but shaken" - but nothing official.

It's torture, pretending everything is normal. Pretending you're just concerned in a general, professional way. Pretending last night never happened, that you don't still have bruises from a different crash, that your world isn't falling apart all over again.

Finally, after what feels like years, you manage to slip away to the Red Bull motorhome.

The motorhome is quiet when you enter. GP looks up from his laptop, surprise crossing his features.

"YN? You shouldn't-"

"Please," your voice breaks. "Please, I need to see him."

GP studies you for a long moment, then sighs. "Last door on the right. But be careful - he's pretty beaten up."

You find Max lying on the small bed, eyes closed but breathing steady. The room smells of medical cream and defeat.

"Max?" Your voice is barely a whisper.

His eyes open immediately, finding yours in the dim light. Despite everything, his lips curve into a small smile.

"Two crashes in twenty-four hours," he mumbles. "Must be some kind of record."

"Don't," tears spill over finally. "Don't joke. Not now."

"Come here," he tries to move over but winces.

"Careful," you rush to his side, perching carefully on the edge of the bed. "How bad is it?"

"Everything hurts," he admits. "But nothing's broken. Well, except my championship lead."

"I was so scared," your voice breaks. "When I saw the crash, and then I couldn't- I couldn't even ask if you were okay. I had to stand there and pretend like I wasn't terrified."

"Hey," he reaches for your hand, wincing at the movement. "I'm okay. Well, relatively speaking."

"This is my fault," you whisper. "If I hadn't called Lewis last night-"

"Stop," he squeezes your hand. "This had nothing to do with last night."

"Didn't it? He was so angry this morning, about us, about having to help us-"

"Lewis and I race hard regardless of personal feelings," Max says firmly. "What happened today was racing. Stupid, dangerous racing, but still racing."

You study his face in the dim light, cataloging every bruise, every sign of pain he's trying to hide, "Max, don't you think it's time?"

"Time?"

"To tell people. About us." The words rush out now that you've started. "I can't keep doing this - watching you race and pretending I don't care, hiding how I feel, lying to everyone we know. Today made me realize… if something had happened to you, really happened…"

He's quiet for a long moment, thumb tracing patterns on your hand. "What about your father?"

"I don't care anymore. Well, I do care, but… not more than I care about you. About us." You meet his eyes. "When the season's over. Before next year starts. We tell everyone."

"You're sure?"

"Are you?"

He pulls you closer, carefully, until you're lying beside him. "I'm sure if you are."

"Even with the championship? The media circus it'll cause?"

"Especially then." He kisses your forehead. "Today… when I hit that barrier, all I could think about was you. Not the championship, not the points, just… you. And how much time we've wasted hiding."

You curl into his side, mindful of his bruises. "So we're agreed? After Abu Dhabi, whatever happens with the championship…"

"We tell everyone." He lifts your chin to kiss you properly. "No more hiding."

"Promise?" You need to hear him say it.

"Promise," he pulls you closer, careful of both your injuries. "Besides, after last night's adventure and today's crash, I think we've filled our drama quota for a while."

You stay there, tangled together in the quiet darkness, both battered from different crashes but somehow still whole.

"I should go," you whisper eventually. "Before someone comes looking."

"One of the last times we'll have to say that," he reminds you.

"Promise me something else?"

"Anything."

"No more late-night drives for a while?"

He laughs, then grimaces in pain. "Deal. Although technically, both crashes were Lewis' fault."

"Max..."

"Kidding," he kisses your forehead softly. "Kind of."

You stand carefully, already missing his warmth. "Text me when you're feeling better?"

"Text me when you're home safe," he counters.

At the door, you turn back one last time. He's watching you with those eyes that made you fall in love twice - once when you were too young to know better, and again when you were old enough to know exactly what you were risking.

"Max?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you. Even when I have to pretend I don't."

His smile, despite the pain, lights up the dark room. "I love you too. Even when Lewis Hamilton tries to kill me. Twice in twenty-four hours."

You shake your head, but you're smiling as you slip out into the night. A few more months of hiding, of pretending, of careful distances and secret meetings. Then everything changes.

You just hope you're both ready for whatever comes next.

Abu Dhabi, 2021

The final showdown. Equal points, one race to decide it all.

The morning of the race, you slip into the Red Bull garage before sunrise. Max is already there, going through his pre-race routine, but his face softens when he sees you.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asks, pulling you into his arms.

"Not really," you nestle into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. "Too much going on in my head."

"Talk to me."

You pull back slightly to look at him. "I'm nervous. For you, for the race, for what comes after…"

"Hey," he cups your face gently. "Whatever happens today, we're in this together. Remember?"

"I know," you try to smile. "It's just… everything's going to change after today."

"Good changes," he kisses your forehead. "No more hiding, remember?"

You've had this conversation countless times over the past months, planning how you'll handle the revelation of your relationship. Your father still doesn't know, though you suspect he's noticed something's different.

"I brought you something," you reach into your pocket and pull out a small charm - a tiny silver racing car. "For luck."

Max takes it, turning it over in his hands with a soft smile. "You're my luck."

"That was incredibly cheesy," you laugh, but your heart swells.

"You love it," he pulls you closer, kissing you properly this time. "And you love me."

"I do," you whisper against his lips. "So much it scares me sometimes."

You stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, before reality intrudes again.

"I should go," you sigh. "There's something else I need to do before the race."

Max knows without asking. "Lewis?"

"Yeah," you bite your lip. "I can't let things end like this between us."

"Go," he squeezes your hand. "Just come back to me after?"

"Always."

Finding Lewis proves harder. He's been avoiding you since Silverstone, your relationship reduced to professional nods and carefully maintained distance. But you finally spot him in the Mercedes garage, alone with his thoughts.

"Lewis?" your voice is hesitant.

He tenses but doesn't turn around. "YN."

"I know you probably don't want to talk to me-"

"Then why are you here?"

You take a deep breath. "Because you're my brother, Lewis. Not by blood, but by choice. And I can't stand how things are between us."

He finally turns, and the pain in his eyes matches your own. "You chose him."

"I chose love," you step closer. "That doesn't mean I stopped caring about you."

"You could have told me," his voice cracks slightly. "Before Silverstone, before any of it. I thought we told each other everything."

"I was scared," you admit. "Scared of exactly this - losing you, losing my family, losing everything I've known."

"So instead you just lied? Snuck around?"

"I know it was wrong," tears prick at your eyes. "And I'm so sorry, Lewis. Not for loving him, but for hurting you. For breaking your trust."

He's quiet for a long moment, studying your face. "Does he make you happy? Really happy?"

"Yes," you whisper. "More than I ever thought possible."

Lewis sighs deeply, running a hand over his face. "Come here, little sister."

You practically fall into his arms, tears flowing freely now. He holds you tight, like when you were kids and he would protect you from everything.

"I'm still mad at you," he mumbles into your hair.

"I know."

"And I still think you're crazy."

"Probably."

"But," he pulls back to look at you, "I love you. And I miss you. And if he ever hurts you, I'll end his career so fast-"

You laugh through your tears. "There's my overprotective brother."

"Someone has to look out for you," he wipes your cheeks gently. "Even if you make it incredibly difficult."

"I'm sorry," you say again. "For everything."

"I know," he kisses your forehead. "We'll figure it out. After today."

"About that…" you hesitate. "We're planning to go public. After the race."

Lewis nods slowly. "I figured something like that was coming. The way you look at each other isn't exactly subtle."

"You noticed?"

"YN, everyone with eyes has noticed. They're just too scared of your father to mention it."

You both laugh, and for a moment it feels like before - easy, comfortable, safe.

"Lewis?" you grab his hand. "Whatever happens today… I'm proud of you. Always have been, always will be."

He squeezes your hand. "Right back at you, little Wolff. Even if you have terrible taste in men."

"Hey!"

"I'm just saying, there are other drivers-"

"Goodbye, Lewis," you start walking away, but you're smiling.

"YN?" he calls after you. "For what it's worth… he better know how lucky he is."

An hour later, you're standing in the Mercedes garage, heart in your throat, watching the screens as though your life depends on it. In a way, it does. Six years of loving Max in secret, two years of running away from it all, and now here you are - watching the man you love fight your father's driver for the championship in the most intense finale you've ever witnessed.

When Nicholas Latifi crashes, everything changes. The safety car comes out, and suddenly the garage erupts with activity. Your father's voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and authoritative as he argues with race control. You've never seen him like this - the usual composed Toto Wolff replaced by someone desperately fighting against what feels like destiny shifting.

"No, no, no, Michael, that is so not right!" Your father's voice booms through the garage as the lapped cars are allowed through. You flinch at the fury in his tone, at the way he slams his headset down.

The final lap is unbearable. You watch Lewis getting hunted down by Max on fresh tires. Your nails dig into your palms, torn between family loyalty and the love you've kept hidden for so long.

When Max makes the pass, when he crosses the line as World Champion, the Mercedes garage falls silent. The contrast between the Red Bull celebrations on screen and the devastation around you is stark.

Your father looks destroyed, a mixture of anger and disbelief on his face. But it's Lewis who breaks your heart - the way he sits in his car, processing what just happened, the dignity with which he eventually emerges to congratulate Max.

You find Lewis in the drivers room a few hours later, away from the cameras. His eyes are red, his shoulders slumped in a way you've never seen before.

"Lew," your voice breaks.

He looks up, and suddenly you're both crying. You wrap your arms around him as he breaks down.

"It wasn't supposed to end like this," he whispers.

"I know," you hold him tighter. "I know."

You stay with him, through the protests, through the appeals, through the obligatory congratulations he has to give. You stay because he's family, because he needs you, because some things are more important than celebration.

Through it all, you catch glimpses of Max - being crowned champion, celebrating with his team, searching the crowd with eyes that keep finding you. But you stay where you're needed most.

Hours pass before you make it to Max's hotel. The celebrations are still going on somewhere, but he's in his room when you arrive, pacing like a caged animal.

"Where were you?" he demands as soon as you enter.

"I was with Lewis."

His face darkens. "Of course you were. Consoling the Mercedes garage while I won my first championship."

"Max, don't."

"Don't what? Don't be upset that my girlfriend wasn't there to celebrate with me? That she was too busy comforting the opposition?"

"That 'opposition' is my family!" Your voice rises to match his. "Lewis is like my brother, my father is devastated-"

"Your father?" He laughs bitterly. "The same father you've been lying to for years? The one we're supposedly telling about us after this race?"

"Are you seriously doing this right now?"

"When else am I supposed to do it? When you're ready? Because I've been waiting for you to be ready since 2015!"

The words hit like physical blows. "That's not fair. You know why I left in 2018, the way you cut me off like I was nothing, it tore me apart."

"Yeah, because it got too hard. Because loving me was too complicated." He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "And now here we are again. I just won the World Championship, and where were you? With them."

"They're my family!"

"And what am I?" He steps closer, eyes intense. "What are we, YN? Because right now it feels like I'm still your dirty little secret."

"That's not-"

"Then prove it. Let's go tell Toto right now. Let's end this charade."

"Today? After everything that happened? Are you insane?"

"Why not today? When will it be convenient enough for you? When will loving me not conflict with your perfect Mercedes family?"

Tears are falling freely now. "You're being cruel."

"No, I'm being honest. Finally." He sits heavily on the bed. "I love you. I've loved you through everything - through you leaving, through you coming back, through all the hiding and sneaking around. But I can't do this anymore."

Your heart stops. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I want all of you. Not just the parts that are convenient, not just the stolen moments between races. I want to celebrate with you when I win, hold you when I crash, build a life with you in the open." He looks at you, and you see the tears in his eyes too. "But I don't think you want that. Not really. Not enough to risk everything else."

"Max…"

"Go home, YN. Go console your father. Go be the perfect Mercedes daughter." His voice breaks slightly. "Just… don't come back unless you're ready to choose me. All of me. The rival, the champion, everything."

You stand there, frozen, both of you crying. Everything you've built, every secret moment, every whispered promise, feels like it's crumbling around you.

"I love you," you whisper.

"I know." He doesn't look at you. "That's never been our problem."

As you stand in the doorway of Max's hotel room, the weight of seven years of love, secrets, and choices bears down on your shoulders. The championship trophy gleams on the table behind him, a symbol of everything he's achieved and everything that's torn you apart.

[creatingblackcharacters]

“On Human Dignity.”  Blackness, Gender & Sexuality

Two things:

As usual, there’s historical and social context that I need explain! This lesson is not what sexuality is, or ‘how to write being gay while Black’. That’s… not that different from you. What this lesson is, is context on how Blackness plays a role in our presentation and understanding of gender and sexuality (as well as your perception of it), and how that’s something you should consider in your characterization, writing, and character design.

I DO NOT KNOW EVERYTHING! The reason this took so long was because I read multiple books and wallowed in my remaining lack of understanding. I cannot join The Tumblr Discourse so do not ask. I tried to be as inclusive as I could, but I learn something new on this app every day, so if I miss something- and I’m bound to- I apologize in advance. Please have grace with me.

TW: Sexual assault mention, homophobia, misogynoir, cannibalism, misgendering

“That’s that White People Shit"

I’m putting the hardest part first; walk with me, you’ll be fine!

I will be honest: this section here, while I do think you should know, I don’t really expect nonblack people to incorporate it in depth. Not because it cannot be done, but because it is a sensitive topic that we ourselves are still struggling with. If you have struggled with anything else while writing Black characters up to this point, this one certainly isn’t for you to touch. Just keep in mind!

There’s an idea I’ve heard before on both sides that Black people are more likely to be homophobic, that queerness itself is white. That is a ridiculous belief, but the root of it ends up right back where you think it would: slavery! I’m sure that you saw me post while I was reading The Delectable Negro by gay Black author Vincent Woodard. I shared those increasingly uncomfortable quotes on purpose! If you have a desire to understand Black culture and Black thought, that means being willing to acknowledge Black pain. How can you avoid stereotypes if you avoid learning their source?  

While I will be using quotes from the entire book, the specific chapter of “Eating Nat Turner” is a succinct explanation of why admitting to the presence of homosexuality, gender fluidity, and queer identity within the Black community is so difficult for my people. While I highly, HIGHLY recommend reading this chapter yourself, it essentially comes down to how admitting to such a potential vulnerability in the armor of Blackness, in gender identity and particularly Black masculinity, would allow white supremacy to destroy us as a people, to do validate doing even more cruel things to us when in a position of power over us. It’s a defensive reaction based in trauma that disregards and discards the queer members of our own community as a threat, a liability when it comes to fighting against the ubiquitous presence of white supremacy.

“Intuitively, Black gay men understood the issue of homosexuality during slavery as a complex phenomenon shaped by a number of factors, including the nation’s unresolved relationship to the legacy of slavery, Black liberatory ideology dating back to slavery, and, most importantly, the maintenance of traditional notions of family and community that originated in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The legacy and memory of slavery had a powerful effect that left many Black gay men feeling isolated from and rendered invisible within Black communities.

Joseph Beam said it first and best: “I cannot go home as who I am. . . . When I speak of home, I mean not only the familial constellation from which I grew, but the entire Black community: the Black press, the Black church, Black academicians, the Black literati, and the Black left… I am most often rendered invisible, perceived as a threat to the family, or am tolerated if I am silent and inconspicuous.” … As Philip Brian Harper has noted, the Black homosexual functioned in the twentieth century as an index for Black masculine anxieties. These ranged from the very personal and painful anxieties of lynching, castration, and the denial of civil rights to a larger set of anxieties rooted in historical erasure and cultural genocide.”

“Sex and gender they also conflated with homosexuality, made out to equal effeminacy. Many Blacks linked homosexuality to castration and the recent history of Black men who had been lynched and Black women who had been raped in the Jim Crow South and in the North. Homosexuality, in its metaphoric power, had an exhaustive function: It is equated with the absence of family, hatred of Black people, estrangement from one’s kin and culture, and all of those horrific aspects of Black experience about which Black people would rather not speak.”

An example of why nonblack people should consider the depth of such a topic- and their place to do so- before incorporating it into their story comes in the form of Styron’s Confessions of Nat Turner, and the backlash he faced from the Black community for such a sensationalized story from a white author.

“The ten Black male contributors [who wrote Ten Black Writers Respond] coupled cannibalism (overtly and covertly) with homoeroticism and effeminacy. For these Black men, homoeroticism became a way of circumventing and projecting their experiences and pain onto certain “effeminate” Black men: the consumed Black man these Black men equated with the homosexual man. Homosexuality served as a means of containing certain unwieldy and historically difficult topics pertaining to Black masculinity, such as the need for intimacy, gender variance, sexual and emotional vulnerability, and violation. It was as if, in this very powerful and discursive moment, threads that had been all along winding through history wove together in a manner that illuminated the past as much as they clouded and blocked full access to its complicated meaning.”

“On the surface, at least, I do not disagree with these Black men and women. I think their analysis regarding historicity and the diminishment of Black communal ties was mostly correct. Styron’s novel was historically inaccurate, depicting Turner as raised by whites rather than the Black parents and grandmother Turner spoke about in his original “Confessions.” Styron depicts aspects of Turner’s sexual life that are not validated in any documentation coming from the time period, and Styron’s exhaustive probing into the racial hatred and self-hatred of Turner clearly reflected something in his own psyche and white identity that he felt compelled to project onto Turner. Black men were put on the defensive by both the novel and by the institutions (literary production, the media) and individuals who supported Styron as an authentic interpreter of Black historical experience. Many Black men, like Bennett, felt that Styron was waging a literary war that paralleled the contemporary political and police state war against Black men…”

The problem with this mindset and approach within the community is that, while it attempts to protect our community, it silences both the prosperity and the pain of an entire section of it, as well as shutting down important conversation that needs to be had even by nonqueer members. And it’s doing it all to fight against a force- white supremacy- that is going to commit violence against us regardless! Respectability politics forces many Black people to stay silent, to not speak up on things that may rock the boat- but the boat needs to be rocked! Blaming fellow victims of racism is not going to save us!

“That was the irony of this moment. Black people invoked the cannibal discourse that could have freed up and complicated Black male perspectives on everything from social consumption to homoeroticism only to defend Black masculinity and Black culture. Black men were not interested in, nor capable of dealing with, the complex legacy of cannibalism and homoeroticism that so powerfully shaped their responses to Styron’s novel.”

But that does NOT mean that it’s a nonblack person’s place to make that argument! While I cannot stop you, I do want you to keep in mind that- as always with sensitive topics- you may have to face Black people who may rightfully be offended by your depiction if not done with care. Styron studied James Baldwin himself- who faced backlash on his end for saying that it was time for the Black community to face such a conversation- and even then, he still projected his white pathology and opinions onto the story of such a prolific hero in our history. Tread lightly!

“Well they don’t seem gay to me.”- A Eurocentric Standard of Passing

How many times have you heard this about a Black character? And if you’re Black and LGBTQ, how often have you heard it about people (or maybe even yourself?) How do we ‘not seem gay’? What is gay supposed to be? There’s this denial, almost, of Black LGBTQ folks, based in a complete disconnect of understanding of our own forms of gender expression and sexuality.

It’s extremely bizarre, because so much of pop gay culture as we know it is from Black LGBTQs (please refer to my infamous AAVE lesson), but… when we imagine an LGBTQ person, they're white.

If you’re Black and queer, you have to be this stereotypical, flamboyant RuPaul-esque figure. Can’t be regular degular. If you’re gay, you gotta be Uber Gay™. If you’re trans, you better pass with Complete Gender and Pizzazz. If you’re nonbinary, you’re not ‘androgynous’ enough. If you’re intersex or asexual, you’re practically not real. If you don’t fill this (white, western) mold, you must not be right. When all you have to be in order to be gay… Is be gay.

I shouldn’t have to put on extra performance to qualify as queer in your eyes! Do you know what looks are considered “androgynous�� in my community? What behaviors are deemed “masculine” versus “feminine”? Do you know anything about my queer culture, or are you subconsciously comparing it to your own?

I want you to recognize that whatever image of queerness you have in your mind for your favorite or original characters, if Black people of all shapes and sizes aren’t included, there’s a problem! Because what are you seeing in others, that you’re not seeing in us? Is that, perhaps, a you problem? And why are we not worth the added effort of queer layering that others are?

THAT SAID!

“Oh I know what that’s like, I’m gay-”

This one mostly- if not always- comes from white queer folk. I’ve linked The Last Interview with James Baldwin. It’s so short. PLEASE take the time to read it. I’ve always adored how James Baldwin expresses himself, and while I could never stand so close, I have studied how he conveys his thoughts. But there’s almost nothing I could say that he doesn’t say better.

“A Black gay person who is a sexual conundrum to society is already, long before the question of sexuality comes into it, menaced and marked because he’s Black or she’s Black. The sexual question comes after the question of color; it’s simply one more aspect of the danger in which all Black people live. I think white gay people feel cheated because they were born, in principle, into a society in which they were supposed to be safe. The anomaly of their sexuality puts them in danger, unexpectedly. Their reaction seems to me in direct proportion to the sense of feeling cheated of the advantages which accrue to white people in a white society.”

The idea that “I know what it’s like to experience this oppression as a Black person because I’m gay” is not true. It’s like saying “oh look at my tan, I’m as Black as you now”. Stop it. Think back to that first section on history we discussed- no, you and I are not the same. We can discuss our existing connections, our intersection and have sympathy and empathy with one another on human dignity. We don’t have to act like we’re the same to do that! So don’t go headstrong into your writing (or life) saying “oh I get that completely, it’s because I’m queer”. There are more tactful ways to express your intent of solidarity.

'Queer' vs 'The N Word'

We’re gonna nip this one in the bud, because we’re leaving that argument in 2024. You know the one- “saying queer is like using the N-word- as a reclamation/slur!” What this argument reveals, used by EITHER SIDE, is how y’all don’t actually have community with Black people.

It implies that either “we don’t like it” or “we do”. Yet another binary that does not exist! There are plenty of Black people that despise that word, regardless of context. That think it brings us down. And then there are those that use it as a reclamation of an identity that was used to demean and dehumanize. Either way, one party is not going to walk up to a stranger and force it on them- that would cause an actual fight! It’s not improving your argument. As a whole, I would say stop using Black politics in general to improve your arguments when you are unaware of the overlap, or maybe the lack thereof, between Blackness and queerness in your argument. It shows. I’m not your tool; I’m not your Negro!

I’m not here to tell anyone whether queer is a slur or not. I don’t use it as one, but I recognize when people are uncomfortable, when it is being used as one, and I will use different language when I am speaking directly to someone who says “I do not like that word, describe me as __”. I am just here to say that we’re leaving that argument behind.

Black =/= Gender

Blackness and the concept of Gender have a fraught, confusing history. Not human enough to have rights, but human just enough to fail to meet Eurocentric standards of gender.

One example of this is the term “stud”. Studs are an example of Black women traversing gender presentation, the origin of which is because Black people are perceived as having “lesser sexual dimorphism”- i.e. you can’t tell who’s a woman or not. It’s an in-community joke that doesn’t make sense spoken outside of its historical context (thus, no, your white butch is NOT a stud within this context).

Another example: Megan Thee Stallion is one of the most stunning, feminine women I have ever seen… And her entire career, people have called her a man. Because she’s brown-skinned, Black, confident, loud, and openly sexual, she’s deemed manly. I can’t stand it. Plus her height- and mind you, Taylor Swift, of the same height and probably a higher number of bodies over the years, has never once been called a man or lost any of her “feminine” charm despite it. Why is that? If one of her men had shot in the foot, trying to kill her, there would be an uproar. Why is that?

There is an internal contradiction that being a Black woman is being inherently “gender nonconforming”. The first reason is that I will never be allowed to truly be a “woman” because to be a woman is to be white while doing it. White Tears, Brown Scars by Ruby Hamad is an excellent book on this dynamic in all women of color, and Black activists like Angela Davis and Kimberle Crenshaw have written and discussed the topic as well.

The second reason is I have to play the role of whatever ‘gender’ is expected to get me through this life. I have to be more ‘masculine’; strong, assertive, and proactive, a hard worker willing to sacrifice it all every day, in order to protect my family and myself in a world where a lack of resilience might kill me. I cannot allow weakness to stop me from taking care of my community, because Black women are supposed to show up and save the day. Find a Black woman! they say. She’ll fix it! And odds are, I do know how to fix it because I’ve probably had to address it before.

But then I’m acting ‘out of a woman’s place’ by being so ‘hard’ and expecting people to listen to my authority. So in order to play a Black woman’s place, I have to balance that with… Somehow not intimidating people by being more ‘feminine’, submissive, vulnerable, sweet and motherly (because if I’m not a good breeder and mother, I am a bad woman). I scare people if I don’t. If I don’t do that, then I’m not a good Black woman. But if I don’t harden myself and be strong and assertive to protect everyone, and tough through everyone’s problems with infinite sacrifice, then I’m not a good Black woman… You see how the cycle gets confusing! (The Delectable Negro and Black on Both Sides also speak on this, and how this is rooted in the creation of the Mammy!)

I spoke about it earlier, but that same inability to be defined as a human, defined as white, haunts many Black men in their goals to be seen as ‘equal’ to white men and receive equal treatment. By seeking to fit a standard of whiteness, they are never going to attain it (and often, that comes back home in not-so-good way)! E.g.: this is the original issue that Louis had in AMCs' IWTV- Louis never actually wanted to be a vampire, Louis wanted to be treated like an equivalent human- and that was unattainable to him not because he wasn’t a human being, but because he wasn’t a white one!

The Racist Counterproductivity of TERFs

Sigh. If you are of this belief, but here to better your writing, I feel like I should say this to you. I want you to listen to me. (TBH, I’m going to delete anything asking me for opinions on this because I don’t want to potentially entertain even a singular troll). Besides, my argument is pretty simple and resolute.

The gender binary is rooted in bioessentialism, and bioessentialism is rooted in white supremacy. You know what else benefits from white supremacy? The white patriarchy.

How are we gonna escape from the patriarchy and white supremacy… if the ideology you believe in… is rooted in white supremacy and patriarchy?

And it’s not just the TERFs- look within yourselves as well! How are we going to make the world safer for trans people, including white ones, if you aren’t willing to confront your own racist biases? If you are unwilling to release the shackles of gender essentialism and the benefits of whiteness, none of us are getting out of here. You are reinforcing the very walls you wish to dismantle!

To offer another side of the conversation, Black On Both Sides by C Riley Snorton has been an interesting read! Essentially, the conversation is on how Blackness and transness intersect, how being Black in and of itself can be and is a transitional, gender fluid experience. It, along with The Mismeasure of Man by Stephen Jay Gould and Medical Apartheid by Harriet A Washington, goes into the history of how the Black body was seen as a different species altogether, and how phrenology, biological essentialism, and examples of sexual dimorphism were treated as an example on how we are an inferior group. Yet, this lack of understanding of our bodies (despite the constant access to it) allowed for us to maneuver within such a system.

An example, of how Blackness has an effect on our perception of gender:

"Cobb suggests that this blackening may have been an anticipatory gesture; when James Norcom (Jacobs’s enslaver) published a description of her in the 1835 issue of the American Beacon, he presumed that she would be “seeking whiteness and dressing as a free woman, not accentuating her Blackness” and finding a “cross-dressing” and ungendered mode for escape. Although the description of sartorial arrangements seems to conform to passing’s logic of movement for protection or privilege, Jacobs’s use of charcoal to darken her complexion tropes—by inverse logic—on more commonly held beliefs (and fears) about racial passing.

As “passing” became a term to describe performing something one is not, it trafficked a way of thinking about identity not only in terms of real versus artificial but also, and perhaps always, as proximal and performative. Like a vertical line with arrows on either end, passing is figuratively represented by moving up or down hierarchized identificatory formations. This articulation of vertical identity also coordinates with forms of binary thinking, typified, for example, by the language of “the opposite” sex. …Brent/Jacobs’s blackened blackness gives expression to her condition as fungible within the logic of U.S. slavery, in which the system of colorism, as Nicole Fleetwood has argued, “produces a performing subject whose function is to enact difference . . . an act that is fundamentally about assigning value.”

As it relates to the scene of Jacobs’s brushing past Sands, her status as “it” also indicates how blackness-as-fungible engenders forms of nonrecognition, as Jacobs’s performance elucidates how blackness and going blacker become an embrace of the conditions that might allow one to pass one’s friends and lovers undetected. In this encounter, fungibility sets the stage for gendered maneuvers on a terrain constituted by modes of viewing blackness, in which Jacobs’s blackness and going blacker color her gender as well as her face."

The Black Trans/Nonbinary/Genderqueer Experience

The Black Intersex Experience

Rather than try to summarize opinions on something I had not lived, I wanted to platform some Black trans, intersex, and genderqueer opinions for you all to consider! I asked three questions, and I’ve typed out the responses and placed them as their own post for the sake of space. I don’t care if it’s long- read them! You want to write these characters; you should hear the perspectives of the people you wish to write about!

Nothing I could say that someone that is actually Black and intersex couldn’t say better!

Here is a page on Tumblr that compiles resources on the intersex community and its history that I found; while it’s not Black-specific, I have seen the page post topics related to.

The Black Aspec Experience

An interesting thing about identifying as asexual or aromantic while Black is that from all angles, people will simply not believe you because Blackness itself has been sexualized. I talked about this in my lessons on stereotypes, but one of the ways that the sexual assault and violation of Black bodies was dismissed, was to emphasize that not only were we incapable of being r*ped, but that we were naturally inclined to being hypersexual beings and that if we weren’t controlled, we would bring it onto ourselves. Black women were jezebels; Black men were mandigos, vicious savages that would assault pure white women if not chained like beasts.

Here is a page for Black people (!!!) with these identities to gather. Again, BLACK PEOPLE with these identities.

The Bit You Actually Showed Up For

So! Given all that historical and social context: really, it’s just about application! You have to ask yourself certain things to catch when you’re about to dip into a bias or stereotype while you’re writing.

Black Queer Joy- A Conclusion

I know I’ve shared a lot of history here, and it’s not been the happiest stuff. THAT BEING SAID!

I must personally say- I am honored to be Black and bisexual. There’s nothing else I’d rather be. I am so happy to be who I am. It’s hard as hell living at the intersection, but the intersection is lit! There’s so much love, history, culture, creation, and so much power here; I’m standing on the shoulders of cultural GIANTS and my chest is full, my chin is high with pride. I love it here!

Being Black and queer itself is not a miserable experience! Your characters should feel joy, because we feel joy! There’s so much that we have to offer the world, it’s practically blossoming from us. I don’t want anyone to walk away from this going “let me go pity the next one I see and tell them how hard their life is”. We don’t need you to feel sorry, we need you to have solidarity! Either show up and do the work, or leave us alone. You can’t join the party at the intersection and then flee when it’s time to fight for it!

Listen to Black queer people in your spaces- dear god, it never fails how conversations of queerness and gender and feminism will leave Blackness completely out, and then be shocked when none of us want to show up. Like I said before- you will never dismantle the walls barring you from your own freedom until you address ours.

Support Black queer creatives, content, perspectives, and people- when you tag on that “support Black trans women” bit at the end of your posts, don’t just speak lightly- understand what that means, and stand on it! Because it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[blueivyy99]

Calm and Serenity (Part 3)

Sylus x Non!MC

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

tags: angst, romance, hurt and comfort, confused sylus, non-mc reader (this is it for now)

taglist: @fcknblsht @aboobie @nin10doo @ixloom819 @damatically @sylusgirlie7 @stellisangelicus-world @kira-loves0905 @wanderlustingcastaway @browneyedgirl22 @lumieresdreams

notes: thank you for the love in the last chapter 😭😭😭 I WAS SO OVERWHELMED OMG though I can't reply one by one, i read them all and thoroughly enjoyed and basked in them ❤️ hope you enjoy this.

Part 1 Part 2

Sweet Evil Trap

Pepper walnut tart, rosemary gelato, pomegranate jelly, red wine marshmallow, and 10.5 grams of soul.

Description:

I'm waiting for you

You're pathetic.

That's what you tell yourself as your hands tremble at Elysium's menu. The one that is always unavailable whenever you go there and rumors say that it was never available at all.

Now you understand why.

After reading everything in Sylus's journal, you started investigating the things that don't make sense to you. You already know that they spent past lives together and their souls are tied with each other. Everything makes sense except this one.

There was no context about Sweet Evil Trap in his notebook but your memory took you back to countless night outs here in Elysium to recall the name of this dessert.

10.5 grams of soul.

You chuckled bitterly. Half of his soul is hers. Always for her. In every goddamn lifetime.

Where were you in this narrative? What piece of him do you have? Certainly not his heart if there are still traces of Miss Hunter in every corner of N109 Zone.

I'm waiting for you.

Yeah right. He's been waiting for years, lifetime even. So what were you doing here? What's your role in this?

A past time?

Someone to warm his bed?

Did he truly love you in the span of your relationship? You tried to keep your tears at bay, but they fell one after the other.

You and Miss Hunter are entirely different. She's fun, bright, and full of sunshine. She can even hold herself in a fight.

You?

You're just you. A jack of all trades. Can do everything but not the best at anything. You can fight, but surely after two or three wanderers you're gone. You're funny at best, but even that you're not that sure because she can make Sylus laugh more than you did.

In short, she's everything you're not. She's everything Sylus wanted and it really really pisses you off because you fucking loved him and yet …

yet …

Even if you gave it your all, he doesn't really see you. He's with you but he's yearning for someone else. And you're so so stupid because you're still staying. You're still hoping that even if she has returned, Sylus will see your worth. That he will change his mind.

That maybe he will choose you.

Maybe he realized you're the one he loved, not her. That maybe, he's willing to defy fate just to be with you.

It was a small hope. But it's there. Because you wanted to hold on for as long as you can. You wanted to love him until it hurts. You want to stay for as long as he doesn't let you go.

And even if you will scold yourself in the future when you remember what you're doing now, you will still try.

You can feel that he sensed that something is off with you; he is perceptive after all. Because after that night, no matter how much you try to hold yourself together, the cracks in your soul still manifest.

If it were before, you're sure that as soon as he woke up you will be all over him taking care of him and making sure that he is well-fed. But after that incident, you just can't seem to stay close to him. Not for now, at least because you're sure that you will just cry and break.

“What's wrong Little fox?" He asked you one night. You tried to avoid him and planned to hide in the guest room and sleep there, but he looked for you and now he's right there looking at your soul.

“Nothing." You avoided eye contact. You can't. It physically hurts whenever you and he meet gazes. It's as if your mind kept replaying all the things you read in his journal.

He reached out for your hand but you flinched and avoided his touch. His hand paused midair because of it. You don't know what he's thinking now. You don't want to know. You're afraid that what you'll see is insincerity.

“Tell me, sweetie. What's wrong? What happened? You're worrying me," he persisted.

"It's nothing, Sylus. I'm gonna head to bed later. You go ahead first and rest." you turned your back at him and pretended to do something.

You wanted to ask him. You wanted to know.

But you're afraid.

Because what if he tells you the truth and leaves you? Can you bear that?

No. Not yet. Never.

So you kept silent. You won't ask questions that you're not ready to face the answers of.

“My sweet little fox, tell me anything and I will listen. I will do anything for you. Just ask." He kissed your temple before leaving.

His words are so sweet but is there really anything behind it? Is there love? Is there anything real with what you two have?

You kept avoiding and hiding from him. He got enough after two weeks. He backed you in a corner, his large frame making it hard for you to escape.

“Something is definitely wrong and I don't know what it is. It's killing me to see you like this, darling. If you're not gonna talk, then let me take your mind off of things. Go out to dinner with me." He held your chin to make you look at him.

You're trying to avoid his gaze. The fear is consuming you at every second that he is staring you down. Your insecurity and jealousy is winning and your mind can't process that this is real and that this is for you.

“Sy—"

“Shhh," he gave you a quick peck to shut you up. “It's not a request. That's an order. Dinner later. I miss my little fox,"

And thus, here you are at Elysium waiting for him with tears in your eyes. You decided to go ahead. You're sure you can't bear the car ride alone with him and even if he won't press you to open up, you can sense that he wants you to.

Your phone blows up. It's surely him inquiring why you went without him. You can't find it in yourself to even read his messages. It's all too much. Everything is too much.

10.5 grams of soul.

Those words kept ringing in your head. Half of his soul. Half that is not yours. You wiped your tears. You need to calm down. He might be here in a few minutes. You need to at least look presentable.

“Sweetie, why did you leave me?" You heard his voice from your back before his lips were on your cheeks already. “I want to spend some time with you during dinner, yes, but also before and after it."

“Sorry," that's all you can say afraid that he might hear the hoarseness of your voice.

He sighed, “Fine, but you're going home with me."

You didn't reply and he took that as a cue to get your orders ready. The food is good but every bite you chew, you can sense his eyes on you.

“I will melt if you keep staring at me,” you commented. He just smirked.

"Let me enjoy the view.”

You just shook your head. You can't form a reply because the fear and insecurity is kicking in again.

The two of you are silent for a while until Sylus's phone rang. You looked at him, really looked at him for the first time tonight.

There's that glint in his eyes again so you immediately knew who it was.

Miss Hunter.

Your suspicions are proven right when he answered the call. “Hello, Miss Hunter, what can I do for you?"

You bit your lip. You were expecting it but damn it hurts. Not even an apology towards you for interrupting your dinner by answering that call.

"What!? Where are you!?”

Your heart breaks every second. There he is again. Choosing her. That's for sure. You know what will happen next. He will leave, say sorry, and run to her side.

"I'm coming, wait for me! Don't you dare move a muscle.” he ended the call in a haste he was getting ready to leave if he didn't see you across the table.

“Darling, I-I need to leave, she needs me. She's in danger. I will make it up to you, I promise. I'm so sorry,”

But no amount of “sorry" can make up for everything that you're feeling now. Of course, he will go to her. He will always run to her.

His 10.5 grams of soul.

You sighed. You have made up your mind. You will free both of you from the burden of this relationship.

You stood, pulled him for a hug. You hugged him as tightly as you can. “Go, Sylus. I'll be fine."

He hugged you back, and oh god how you will miss that warmth. You can feel your breath getting caught in your lungs, but you have to hold back. Until he turns around at least.

“I'll make it up to you, darling. Wait for me okay? I love you. Luke and Kieran will be here in fifteen minutes. Wait for them. Don't go home alone." That's the last thing you heard from him before he stormed out.

You finally let your tears fall.

It's enough. You had enough.

You will leave his life calmly, quietly. You moved and walked away fast hoping Luke and Kieran won't see you on the streets of N109 Zone.

Part 4 on the weekends (i hope) comments and reaction are welcomeee 🤤

[madamechrissy]

Pour it Up

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotage you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed- down bad) rec drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, fluff/smut AND light angst- violence, some former trauma of reader. This part- BROMANCE hehe, spanking, emotional, a LOT of violence and blood, teasing, shower sex, size kink like a MF- a little bit of everything <3 WC- 7.2k

Will be eight parts- ties into my Mob Gojo story- you'll see him and the reader from there - but you can read it alone. Art in the banner is by Sketch B on X divider by @cafekitsune

Reblogs/comments so appreciated if you enjoyy!

<<<Part Six - Playlist - Masterlist - Part eight (final)>>>

Part Seven

There is blood everywhere, everywhere Sukuna can see, as his friends, shit some of them are truly damn near his family, fight right alongside the Zenin, but the only one Sukuna is focused on is the blond man with the brown, cold eyes, the one that hurt you. The one who didn’t see what he was lucky enough to have, and never fucking deserved, you.

Naoya licks blood off his lip and ducks and dodges, slamming Sukuna against a wall, he laughs at the attempt. “You’re trying, aren’t ya? Why don’t you give the fuck up before I end your life.” Sukuna pins him now instead, Toji is sending someone flying and crashing into a crate, as you all fight in the warehouse, each hit and throw scattering goods around.

There are pounds and pounds of counterfeit jewelry being crushed under dress shoes, crunching and glinting in the dark of the room, the sound of breaking bones and grunts of pain fill the air, each hit from Sukuna is fueled by pure rage and hate. The kind that only comes from someone who’s faced with the man who’s hurt the girl he loves so much.

The one that not just had you so down on yourself, abandoned you financially, talked down to you and blew off your kid, no that’s all shit he’d certainly beat the fuck out of him for. But wanting to murder him, slit his fucking throat, comes from even more than that, the threats to you.

He’d even been running it when they met just a few minutes before this.

‘Hah, how’s my little whore doing? Ya wanna know how many times I had her, in every way? Think it won’t be long till she’s back under me-’

That was when Sukuna decided negotiations certainly wouldn’t fucking be happening, when this little prick of a man wanted to run it, there was no more hiding behind the Zenin name for him. Choso, Suguru, Satoru and Toji were all there along with many other of the families, and not only were the Zenin outnumbered, they were completely unmatched.

Certainly they had some skill and they knew how to brawl, but overwhelmingly the five men here were much better at fighting, bigger, stronger… but also, more clinically insane, and coked out. Sukuna made sure everyone was well prepared with lines and lines before they decided to do this, bloodshot eyes and batshit crazy grins adorning everyone's faces.

Not Choso on the partaking of cocaine, of course, but Sukuna quickly realizes he and his family can hold their own and then some. But no one matched Sukuna on skill or size, though Satoru and Toji came close, no, he was simply made to fight, he thrilled in it, the adrenaline coursing through his fucking veins, his ruby eyes glinting, all while  thinking of one singular thing.

You.

You’re his.

You’re his and will always be his.

Sukuna can’t have this looming over you, even if it starts a fucking war, his girl should be able to live her life without constant fear of the threat that Naoya constantly brings. As soon as Sukuna had thrown that first punch, chaos had ensued across every inch of this old, dark warehouse.

 Naoya tries to fight back, but he’s no match for the beast that’s been unleashed in Ryomen Sukuna. The fear in his eyes is clear as he sees the unbridled fury in Sukuna’s gaze, perhaps he really thought he had a chance in hell, but with every hit and kick, Naoya slowly comes to the realization, that he’s fucked.

Sukuna’s knuckles are raw, but he feels nothing but satisfaction as he lands blow after blow on Naoya’s face, the crunch of his nose - breaking again, at least he has a good surgeon- is just music to his ears. He can almost hear her voice in his head, whispering that you’re okay now, that you’re safe, that this is probably enough, but there is a louder voice.

Kill him.

He can’t because of Touma, he knows, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to, hitting him and not relenting until the blond man is on his knees, begging for mercy. Sukuna’s chest heaves with  b every breath, his heart racing with the adrenaline of the fight, his muscles screaming for a pause, but he shoves it all back, kicking Naoya to the floor and straddling him then, yanking him by his collar.

“Any last words, mother fucker?” He says with a grin, teeth just coated in blood, knife glinting when he pulls out the butterfly, silvery blade, holding the cold metal to his throat.

“Fuck, stop, stop, shit.” He grabs Sukuna’s wrist, sputtering, Satoru’s insane peal of laughter echoes, as he kicks away a mafia member, brushing off his suit. “You all are fucking insane, fuck.”

“Ya think so?” Toji asks, flipping a man right on his head, as they all look at Naoya, helpless.

“Fuck, we’ll stay out of your territory, okay?” Naoya’s desperate words just amuse Sukuna more, as he eases back the knife, holding up a hand.

“Stop.” He orders, and everyone does, much to the relief of every single Zenin member sighing, but Satoru may or may not have fake punched one to watch them jerk in fear, for the men to snicker at. Sukuna smirks at them, shaking his head, taking a breath and feeling just how sore he is, turning back to Naoya now, who exhales in relief, then Sukuna stands.

“I think we can come to an understanding, we-” Sukuna yanks him up by his collar, he’s literally dangling in the air when Sukuna plops him right on one of the crates. “Shit!”

With a smirk, he pulls out a phone from his pocket and turns his phone on, setting the screen on record. “You’re going to apologize to her.”

“The fuck I am, I already said I’d leave your territory and her the fuck alone.” Sukuna punches him once more, the sickening crack of his fist connecting echoing through the now quiet room. “Shit…”

“Say it loud, say it clear, or I’ll rip your tongue out and shove it down your throat so you can never speak your bullshit again.” Naoya’s eyes widen in horror, but he knows better than to argue at this point, it seems, the fear of dying a painful death is stronger than his pride. 

“Fine, okay, shit…” He spits out blood, a tooth along with it, making joy fill Sukuna’s heart.

It’s the simple things, you know.

Through bruised and bloodied lips, he stammers out an apology, his voice shaking, so pathetic as Sukuna videos it, just for you, his girl. The warehouse goes quiet, the other fights ceased, as the Zenin mob watches their leader fall. The Gojo and Kamo mob members, battered and bruised, look at each other with big grins, still in high spirits in comparison.

Naoya finally slumps forward, while Sukuna pockets his phone, and the Zenin mob looks to their leader, the one who’s been beaten worse than any of them, bested by a man he thought he could fuck with. It’s not just about Naoya versus Sukuna, it’s more than that, Naoya has helped lead to the Zenin weakening, and proving the Kamo and Gojo are not to be trifled with.

Sukuna leans forward, as Naoya flinches, making Sukuna even more fucking excited, grin plastering his face. “You won’t come on our territory again.”

“I won’t.”

“You won’t come near them, Touma or her, again.” Naoya laughs then, through his blood he’s damn near coughing up, so weak he looks like he’s about to collapse to the floor.

“Fuck it I don’t even want them.”

“Never fucking deserved her.” Sukuna whispers, still one fucking step away from ripping this mother fucker’s throat out, but he stops himself, standing up in a blood soaked dress shirt and slacks, sleeves rolled up to reveal much of his tattooed, bloody forearms and knuckles. “I think we’re done here.”

The warehouse door swings open as the five men and the rest of the members of the Kamo and Gojo mob walk out, letting in a rush of cool night air, Sukuna takes a breath of it, looking up at an oddly clear night for this city. He hears the distant sound of sirens, surely all the noise had made someone call.

“Time to get out before the feds come knocking.” He murmurs, as the Zenin mob retreats as well, helping their leader, who can’t even walk, but truly he’s lucky to be fucking alive.

“Coke?” Satoru offers, shaking a baggie, and Toji pulls out a bottle of liquor from the center of the limo, where the cooler sits.

“Drinks?” He suggests, but Suguru is already lighting up a blunt, smoke filling the limo of the five bruised and grinning men.

“Smoke?” He suggests, Sukuna grins then.

“All of ‘em, fuck it.”

*****

“You’re pacing baby.” Your friend murmurs, as she’s mixing up a drink in the eerily quiet club, the men have been gone for hours, and you can’t stand the sickness and anticipation in your tummy. “Sit down hunny, have a drink.”

“I can’t, I feel sick! Ugh. This is because of me.” You say in a panic, pacing back and forth more and more, she shakes her head, touching your shoulder gently. “It is all my fault, I made Sukuna have to do all this!”

“He loves you.” Her quiet words make your heart race, you hug her then, crying against her neck as she shushes you gently. “He adores you, you can just see it, I swear he does.”

“But… it’s like, what have I done to deserve him?”

“You’re pretty amazing too, you know.” You pull back with a tremulous smile, when suddenly the doors open, drawing your attention, and you exhale in relief before more panic sets in.

Sukuna is covered in blood when he walks back in the club, all of them are, your mind frantically tries to take it all in, the five bloodied men walking in, Satoru slides up to the bar, as his girl panics, cupping his face gently. Toji’s downing a shot and grimacing, Choso politely asks if there’s somewhere he can clean up, the girls start doting on him and Suguru.

But all you can see is him.

Sukuna.

The man you love, covered in more blood than all of them, his crimson eyes boring through you across the club, as you step forward, trembling as you get closer, terrified when you see his face is swelling and bruising under one of his eye, cuts all over his handsome face, you swear you can see shards of fucking glass glinting under the strobing lights.

“Sukuna…” He exhales, pulling you in close, as you look on with horror. “I need to get you cleaned up.”

“Yeah, yeah… worrying so much for me huh?” You glare, and he has the audacity to smirk. “I’m fine, brat.”

“You’re not fine. Now.” You drag him into the changing room by one of his crimson stained hands, sitting him right down in a seat, he sighs as he overtakes the tiny little thing with his huge body. “Sit there, let me clean you up.”

“Tch. It’s a scratch or two.”

“Yeah, okay monty python.”

He chuckles then, throwing his head back. “You watched that?”

“Sure I did. Sit still.” You’re dabbing at him now, with a cold wet washcloth, he sucks in a breath when you see it again, a little piece of glass. “How did you get glass in your skin, hmm?”

“Your ex may or may not have hit me with a bottle. Oooh, you look angry. So sexy, fuck.” You smack at his big tattooed hands as he tries to grip your ass.

“He what now!?” You turn and grab the first aid kit, finding antiseptic and tweezers, ready to kill Naoya if he even made it.

“He tried to fight but was failing like a little bitch. Ow!” He whines as you tweeze  out the glass, quickly cleaning the wound that’s bleeding just a bit.

“Don’t be a baby.”

“Cruel, evil woman- ow!”

“Who knew big, bad Sukuna was a baby.”

“I swear to- ah!” You’re cleaning the last of the abrasions on his face up, dabbing at it with a little cotton ball. “You’re enjoying this.”

“I am not. You’re just cute.”

“Psh, I’ll beat your backside. You done?”

“Tell me how much of this is your blood.” He chuckles now, when you lead him over to the sink, rinsing his hands off, scrubbing up the antiseptic to show his knuckles were already scabbing over.

“Most of it is their blood, don’t worry so much.” You sigh, tummy feeling sick, when you’re running a towel along his hands, taking in the damage, only to be spun now, facing the mirror, when his strong, huge body takes you over. Your eyes meet his, seeing the hunger in them, as his still wet hands slip up your skirt, and he leans over you, pressing you into the counter.

“Kuna, you’re hurt. I have to keep checking you- ngh!” Sukuna’s slipped his hand between your thighs now, while his other slides up your breasts, earning your nipples pressing out, until he holds you under your chin.

“Playing nurse is hot and all, brat, but I need more than that.” His husky tone fucks with you, as his adrenaline races through his veins.

“Is he…” You gulp a bit, and Sukuna smirks now.

“Is he dead? Go on, ask it.” You take a shaky breath, whining out when he’s slipping his fingers over your cunt, which is soaking his fingers quickly, your head falling back against his hard chest. “Me killing him get you wet?”

“N-no, you get me wet, psycho man. Answer me.” You grip his wrist, trying to halt his movements so you can focus. “Did you kill him?”

Sukuna sighs, burying his face against your neck. “Wanna see him?”

“What?” Sukuna’s chuckling now, hot against the gentle curve of your neck, pulling you even closer against him.

“He’s not dead, only because… your kid. But he’s not doing so hot.” He leans back now, pulling out his phone, showing you Naoya right there on the screen, so bloody he’s damn near unrecognizable, pressing play on the video.

“Oh my god…” You feel sick as you watch it, Toji holding his head up, as Sukuna videos it.

Go on, say sorry, say you’re so sorry, and how you’re not even good enough to breathe her air.

Sukuna’s chuckle is dark and frightening, even after he watches the video back, Naoya angrily spits, you fear you see a tooth there.

‘I’m sorry, fuck, okay?’

‘Finish the sentence.’

‘Not good enough to breathe your air… shit, I’m sorry, fuck…’

“Holy… you think…” You’re trembling in his hold, as the tears start pouring from your eyes. Sukuna pauses the video before all the carnage of just what happened to the Zenin during that fight shows. “You think it’s over?”

“Yes, baby.” Baby, he calls you baby and it ruins you. He’s cupping your face, turning you to him now, lifting you with ease and sitting you on the counter, your arms wrapping around his neck, breaths coming quicker and quicker. “He won’t touch you again.”

“Kuna…” You slam your lips on his, tears falling mixing with the coppery taste of the blood on his split lip, he pulls you against him, thighs wrapped around his hips, as you endlessly kiss, deeper and deeper. You pull back with a shaky breath, foreheads resting against each other. “But will it be a war?”

“No, they’re not coming for the Kamo and the Gojo family, we negotiated quite a deal with them all. It’s easy to negotiate when you’re losing teeth.” His devilish grin truly scares you.

“You’re psychotic you know.”

“You really haven’t seen shit yet baby.” Soon everyone is pouring in, cleaning up, Satoru is pouting like a baby, Toji is tense, the mood is overall good, but when you’re all drinking in the bar later, you and your friend helping pour them, it seems like they’re all just exhausted too.

“I lied about it being boring.” Satoru murmurs then, holding his girl’s hand carefully across the bar, she frowns in concern, leaning forward.

“It’s not boring?” She asks, and he shakes his head.

“It’s boring and pointless, and fucking stupid. But, for once, I think we did something.” She’s on his side soon, as they kiss, and the hunger they have makes the room heat up, as your eyes meet Sukuna’s knowingly.

“Satoru, why don’t you take her home.” Sukuna suggests. “Before you all just fuck right here.”

“Says you two. I don’t wanna know how many surfaces you’ve hit.” He says with a smirk, earning your gasp and Sukuna’s chuckle.

“We have not hit… many surfaces!?”

“Yet.” The room laughs quietly, and soon you’re all dispersing, you’re resting your head on Sukuna’s shoulder as he drives, it’s not too often that he’s not just taking his limo, but tonight he’s got a big hand on your thigh, pressing against you so warm, while you hug his arm to you. “You okay brat?”

“I can’t believe he was in so deep and… I didn’t know. That he was doing… fuck, trading human beings, and I was oblivious. I left because he kept cheating and was so mean to me, but… it’s hard to swallow.” Sukuna’s quiet as the two of you drive through the night in the dark, lights slowly flashing by and casting shadows across your face as he looks down for a moment.

“He probably just hit it well, it’s not like it’s your fault you didn’t know.”

“But Touma was in danger!”

“And he’s not, now he’s safe.” At the red light, glowing across his tanned skin, still covered in marks, he cups your face, tilting your chin up. “It’s not your fault.”

“How could I have been so stupid? How could I have ever seen anything but…” He cuts you off with a kiss, gentle and sweet, not like the fervent, passionate, or even brutal ones you’re used to. You exhale, leaning into the kiss.

“He had you hating yourself, I saw the end of that.” His heart breaks as he sees your lower lip tremble, his thumb brushing across it as the light turns green, he shifts his gears, driving once more, towards his penthouse - well, yours now too.

“You make me feel so loved now.” Your quiet voice makes him tense, clearing his throat just a bit.

“Ya trying to make me all sappy again, brat?” Normally you’d giggle, but you’re leaning closer, pressing a kiss on his neck.

“I love you.”

“Tch.” You just smile as you cling to him, dozing slightly, so happy he’s finally with you, so thrilled you may never have to worry about Naoya in your life again, all because of him, truly. “Gonna drool on me? If so, better be around my cock, or while I’m fucking you.”

“Kuna!” He’s smirking as you sleepily smack at his shoulder, pulling in to park now, brushing back your messy hair.

“Gonna help me clean up?” He asks softly, soon you all are sending Miwa home for the night, Touma is already fast asleep, and you’re in the shower with Sukun as he sits on the black granite bench, hands washing his smokey pink locks, while he rests his forehead on your chest, thighs spread.

“You have more bruises and cuts than you led me to believe.” You reprimand, he just looks up at you, tired eyes, his sooty lashes dripping with droplets of water, while his huge hands take over your body.

“I’ll always do anything for you.” You expected a joke or a cocky statement, not that, not the pure love and adoration in his voice, making you swallow while you rinse his hair off gently, placing the showerhead back up, entire body aching for him.

“I’ll always do anything for you.” Your murmur in return, straddling him now, knees on slippery marble, he clutches you by your ass as you do, eyes brilliant ruby as the hot spray pounds against both of your skin all over.

“The date. I still want the date.” He says softly, you giggle at it, tilting your head back when his hand drags ever so slowly across one of your breasts, squishing it in his hand as he sighs.

“I want a date too. But maybe you should heal up?”

“I feel great. Good enough for…” He’s dragging your cunt against his cock now, you cry out at the sensation, soaking wet and throbbing always for him, his piercing hits your clit as you grind, making you jerk, sensitive when he’s biting at your lips, his hands sinking into your waist. “Good enough to fuck you so good you drool, baby.”

“Fuck… please, Kuna…” He’s groaning now, reaching around and slipping two fingers deep in your soppy little hole, back arching for more as he does, scissoring them in and out so fast, you’re clinging to him tightly, tongues messy and dripping saliva as they collide.

“Want it?” He taunts, his thick, huge cock throbbing in need for you, but he loves when you’re so needy, desperate, he feels your gummy walls gripping his fingers, watches your eyes roll back, while the water falls in pretty rivulets on your pretty body, and he can’t wait to cum inside you, but not just yet. “You know what to do, brat.”

“Meanie.” You huff so cutely, making him smile, your nails are slick and pressing into his back, when he slips his fingers out now, cock teasing your entrance as he holds you up like it’s nothing.

“Gonna be bratty and not get it then.”

Your thighs shake as his tip enters, pressing inside past that tight ring of muscles, feeling your walls spasm, making him suck back a whine. “Please, Kuna, please let me feel you.”

“Fuck…” Your soft pleading ends him, how can he tease you when he’s dying to thrust inside of you, and that he does, dragging your cunt half way down his veiny length, you’re struggling to take him. “Loosen up, shit baby.”

“C-can’t, you’re t-too - ah!” You’re gasping when he stands, laying you right down on that bench, slipping out of you and shoving two fingers back in, curling them, while he kisses you again.

“Pathetic little pussy, how can she not take me by now?” He whispers, you want to scowl but fail, instead you’re drooling again while he’s curling those fingers inside.

“Too big.” He smirks at that, your eyes narrow for a moment before you’re cumming all down his thick digits, muscles loosening just enough, orgasm washing through your entire body in waves. “Kuna!”

“There she goes, she’s so needy, tsk.” Sukuna picks you up, throwing you like some little doll with his huge arms, until he’s got you against the wall, shoving his cock to the fucking hilt. Your cunt tries to accommodate, gushing down his length, as he moans, feeling his tip against your cervix. “Fuck, feel her. Milking me already?”

“Want all your cum in me, Kuna.” Your whine is shut off with a scream as he slams his curved cock right up inside you again, you’re trying to hold back the noise, but steadily failing.

“Shh, brat.” He’s smirking now, and covering your mouth with two fingers. “I’m so not getting cockblocked. Hush.”

“S-sorry, fuck- ah!” You’re burying your face against his neck, biting his slick hot skin, as his tattooed abdomen flexes, fucking you more firmly against the wall, and the two of you lose yourselves, more and more.

The water pounding, the steam floating, the fragrant smells of the body wash all mixing with the taste of each other, your eyes shut you can just feel him, all his power his strong, huge body holds, as he uses you. And you’re just clinging to him, whimpering, while his tip drags on your spot, while his piercing hits your cervix now, and you can barely hold back.

“Gonna fill you up s’good, brat, gonna fuckin pour me out, huh?” You’re nodding, struggling to focus, head falling back to look into those dilated eyes. “All mine, never going anywhere, are you?” You hear the desperation as he clings, as he fucks into your slick little cunt, and you’re nodding weakly, feeling him take you over.

“Never, going anywhere. Yours.” Sukuna slams into you once more, rolling his hips just so, you’re cumming right with him, his hot gooey load pouring inside your slick, fluttering walls, when he drinks up your kisses, holding you so tight you can scarcely breathe.

“Mine, all mine, aren’t you brat?” You’re nodding weakly, so full of him, his cock just spurting even more deep against you, as he rests his head on yours, struggling to catch his own breath.

“Yours, only yours.” Your desperate kisses slowly ease, as the two of you wash each other, and soon you’re drying up, checking on Touma, who’s still fast asleep in his bed, Sukuna watches as you give him a kiss good night, crossing his arms at the doorway while you tuck him in.

It makes the entire thing worth it all, when you shut the door quietly and he picks you up, you giggle as you cling to him. “Gotta carry you everywhere.”

“You want to! Big strong Kuna.”

“Psh.” He pulls you against him, exhaustion hitting alone with your fingers gently stroking his hair, as he clings to your warm body, so small compared to him yet here he is, holding on to you, to make him feel like only you can.

“Where is this date?” You ask softly, listening to his breathing slow, feeling his tense muscles relax just a bit in your hold, with your soothing touch.

“Fiji.” Your lips part in shock.

“We can’t just go to Fiji!?”

“Why not?” He scowls up at you now, your lips twitch in amusement, earning his deeper glare. “I can take you wherever the fuck I want, you’re mine.”

“I can’t just leave Touma for Fiji!”

“Miwa-”

“No, Kuna, I so am not.”

“You’re bratty.” He’s smacking your ass so hard you yelp, stinging and radiating with his big ass hand rocking through you.

“Shit, ow!” You bite him now, but you just get his cock twitching again, as your teeth sink deep, and he yanks your hair.

“Brat, swear to god you’re asking for it. Where do you want to go then!?”

“Like, dinner?”

“The fuck - all that I did and I get a dinner date? No.”

“Kuna…”

“Don’t you Kuna me, I demand  better date. Gonna have me acting like I’m fucking broke.” You roll your eyes at him, sighing, now rubbing your stinging ass cheek and wincing.

“Dinner somewhere fancy.”

“Satoru bought his date a fucking boat, I need at least a helicopter, or a private plane-”

“So it’s a competition?” You ask, amused while Sukuna leans up on an elbow now, as you burst into a fit of giggles, now on your back, hand stroking his stubbled cheek.

“Of course it’s a fucking competition.” You can’t stop your laughter now, to his anger, just growing at you.

“But they don’t… um…” You take a breath then, getting a little more serious. “I have Touma, he’s part of my life. We can’t be quite so carefree, like Satoru and his girl,  I’m afraid.” Sukuna exhales now, realizing your words.

You love your son so much, and he’s so happy that you do, but sometimes it drives him crazy, he has to always share his favorite person. “I guess we will bring him and Miwa to Fiji then.”

“Shit, you’re serious?” He huffs, pulling your body impossibly close, leaning down over you, lips ghosting over your collarbone.

“That way we still get time alone, but also with him.” You feel your heart fill with so much love it makes you want to burst, he sighs when he sees your eyes, glassy even in the dark of the night, the moonlight filtering in and casting shadows on your pretty face, illuminating those tears. “You cry too much.”

“That’s so sweet, oh my god.” He doesn’t answer, he just keeps pecking kisses, along your neck, and your collarbone, huge hands taking your waist, kissing even lower, to your rising breasts.

“I love you.”

“I know. Shush.” You’re whining out when he kisses down a path to your nipple, already perked up and ready, pulling down the top when the door knocks and he groans, scowling at it.

“Mama! Papa!”

“Come in!” You’re adjusting your shirt, ignoring your boyfriend’s honestly adorable pout as Touma bursts in, running over to the edge of the bed.

“What, kid? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” He demands, crossing his strong arms over his chest now.

“Sorry, Papa Kuna!” Sukuna grimaces once more at the name, as Touma reaches up his little hands, opening and closing them, he turns over and rests his chin on his hand, raising a brow.

“Is that the name we’re really going with?” Touma is bouncing up and down, you giggle as you watch, rolling over on your side now, a hand on Sukuna’s bare shoulder.

“Can I sleep in your bed Papa Kuna!?”

“God no.”

“But, PapaKuna…” You earn his glare as you rest your chin on his shoulder now, pecking a kiss on his cheek. “He’s so cute though.”

“No sleeping in my bed, kid.” Touma pouts now, lip trembling, making Sukuna falter, he looks just like you, dammit. “Don’t you give me those puppy dog eyes, you learned that from your mom, huh?”

“But your bed, it looks so cool! Please!”

“Go to your bed!”

“I’ll go to sleep with him then.” You go to sit up, and Sukuna rolls his ruby eyes, pressing you back down, his glare even deeper.

“You’re going nowhere.” He sits up now, the sheet falling, revealing his bare, tattooed body, Sukuna looks even more of a huge, huge man when he picks up itty bitty Touma from the floor, unceremoniously plopping him down between you two. “There, just one night, though, got me kid?”

“Yay! Big bed, big bed!” Touma’s smacking a kiss on his cheek, Sukuna’s wiping it off with a disgusted look, then softens as Touma kisses your cheek now. “Mama, I get to sleep in the big bed!”

“You do, it’s super comfy too.” You’re tucking him under the covers now, as he snuggles up, and Sukuna crosses his arms, earning your smile.

“Papa Kuna, lay down.” Your words have Touma laughing, as he reaches his little hand out and tugs Sukuna down towards him, until he reluctantly lays his head on one of the black satin pillows, and Touma hugs him around the neck.

“Who’s clingier, you or the kid?” He looks over Touma’s head at you, you lay down now as well, an arm around Touma, resting on Sukuna’s waist over the soft, weighted blanket.

“It’s a toss up.” You press a kiss on Touma’s head, brushing his hair back to see his adorable face, already content with a smile. “Do you like Papa Kuna better than Mama!?”

“No, but he’s so comfy!”

“Tch. Comfy.”

“He is comfy, huh?” You wink at Sukuna, whose hands are just awkwardly up as the kid snuggles against his chest.

“Your hands are cold, shit!”

“Sorry Papa.” He just hums and snuggles closer, the moment making you fall ever deeper in love, Sukuna’s got his arm around you both then, with an annoyed sigh, the three of you snuggled in the enormous bed. It feels…

Perfect.

“Kid, ya wanna go on a plane ride?” He asks, and Touma yawns, nodding.

“A plane!? Planes are cool!”

“There you go, we’re going to Fiji.” Sukuna smirks, clearly happy he has won, as Touma now turns and cuddles over to you, looking up at you and smiling happily.

“A plane!” He’s so excited, but so tired, precious as you stroke his cheek. “Mama, we'll have fun on a plane.”

“Then I guess we will have to all go, hmm? And bring Miwa?” Your words just excite Touma more, you watch Sukuna’s full lips twitch in amusement.

“Miwa too, it’s going to be so fun. When will we go?” He turns his head to Sukuna, as he snuggles closer, and Sukuna’s hand is gently brushing your hair back off your face.

“What about this weekend?”

“That soon?” You ask softly, as Touma is dozing off, little fingers gripping your pajama top, you rest your chin on his head, eyeing Sukuna now. “We don’t have to go right now, we have all the time in the world.”

“I need… a break.” You see then, how exhausted he really is, and shit, so are you after all of this. “And I want to take my girl out.”

“Your girl.” Your whisper is met with his kiss, he is dying to hold you in his arms, but the little kid in the middle doesn’t bother him honestly, in fact he enjoys watching his face smile in his sleep more than he’d admit, affection flowing for the extension of you. His gaze goes back to you, your lashes lowering, casting shadows against your cheeks. “I like that.”

“Being my girl? Of course you do.” He kisses you once more, relaxing more and eyeing Touma now. “Does he… ever bring him up?”

You tense a bit, shaking your head. “He did a little before, but not since we’ve been with you. He doesn’t really know him. But now he has you, we both do. Papa Kuna.”

“Ugh.” You’re laughing softly as he kisses you again, sweeter. “Only once is he sleeping in my bed.”

“Only once, sure.” Sukuna’s half assed glare just makes you smile, as you stroke his soft pink locks back. “I’m excited for Fiji.”

“You better be. Now, get to sleep.”

“Work tomorrow?”

“Change of position for you.”

*****

One Week Later

“Look at Pookie, she’s a baddie.” Satoru’s husky voice hits you as you’re counting money in Sukuna’s office later that day, legs crossed in a little black business outfit that Sukuna must have custom made, because it’s just too slutty honestly, and fits you far too well. When he’d seen you in it, he’d about lost his mind, the memory makes your cheeks heat up.

“Hey, Satoru.” You smile now, standing up and hugging him, you touch his cheek with a frown, seeing the blooming purple bruise along his cheek. “You okay?”

“I’m good, promise. My girl said I’m hot with this apparently.” You giggle then, shaking your head as he presses a kiss on the backs of your fingers.

“Of course you are, I heard you bought her a boat for a date huh?” He grins, wiggling his brows now, as the two of you walk over to Sukuna’s desk, and you divvy out a huge stack, handing it over.

“Of course I bought a boat, I needed to one up your date, no offense. Ah, thank you for the money, mommy.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You snort in laughter at him, sitting back down, taking out your pen and scribbling information down. “That’s your cut for the most recent run, not that your little rich ass needs any.”

“Hey now, you’re getting mean, don’t let Kuna make you too bratty.”

“What now?” You glare at him as he leans back, lowering his shades, crossing his leg at the ankle. “You’re the only brat here.”

“Meanie!”

“Arguing, huh?” Toji walks in now, winking a dark green eye at you, taking the huge stack from your hands. “Thanks doll.”

“Of course.” You’re scribbling more down now, as Suguru walks in, yawning, and you study the men’s faces, still bruised and cut, making you sigh.

“Hello, love.” Suguru takes the stack as you hand it out, frowning at you. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel you’re all hurt because of me.” You bury your face in your hands now, taking a shaky breath as the men frown, looking at you.

“No, it’s not you, it’s the shit Zenin, okay?” Toji’s hand comes to your shoulder, warm and comforting.

“Still, you’re all beat up.” You lift your head, tears falling when Choso walks in, you’re sniffling as you go to hand him his cut.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, violet eyes glimmering, as if he feels your emotions. You nod with a tremulous smile.

“We get beat up all the time, part of the job description, sweets.” Satoru tries to ease your worries, but it just doesn’t sink in.

“You’re promoted, look at you.” Choso’s words make you smile a little more firmly, dabbing at your eyes now.

“I am, from now on I’ll be handling all of the money, I actually took accounting believe it or not.”

“A stripper accountant? Hot.” Suguru makes you giggle, when Sukuna walks in, you realize then you’re in a room full of mobsters over six feet tall, all with bruised knuckles and abrasions, and you’re the one holding all their money. There’s some power to it, what Sukuna’s given you, as he eyes all of the men, too close for his comfort.

“She’s not stripping anymore, she can manage the girls and the money.” He strides forward, walking around the desk now, lifting you from the seat to sit in the chair instead, yanking you down on his lap.

“Then why am I wearing office strip clothes?” You tease, he grins, eyeing the amount of cleavage hungrily.

“It’s the uniform, brat.”

“Uh huh! Anyway, they were just trying to make me feel better.” Sukuna’s hand comes to grip your waist, as he eyes the ledger you’ve been filling.

“She thinks it’s her fault, you should make her feel better, Kuna.”

“I swear to god, Satoru.” Satoru’s laughing as he wiggles his fingers in a farewell, and Sukuna’s alone with you now, in the big office he’s basically now set up for you as well, the door clicking quietly, when his thumb swipes a tear on your cheek. “You know how to make me jealous.”

“Oh stop, they were just being sweet.”

“Psh, sweet mobsters, what’s next?”

“You’re the sweetest.”

“That’s it.” You gasp when he’s got you bent over, yanking up the mini skirt that is barely covering your ass, watching it bounce and caressing your ass over the dark fishnets you wear, before smacking the fuck out of it.

“Ah!”

“Calling me sweet, brat? How sweet am I?” He’s smacking your other cheek, stinging so bad, but you feel the wetness drooling against your panties, biting your lower lip to hold back a cry.

“I’m an account manager now, Mr. Sukuna. I’m complaining to HR.” You tease, grinning over your shoulder, he raises one of those brows, leaning over you now, one hand gripping yours over the cool wood of the desk.

“Toji is HR. What’s he gonna say?” You giggle, but it’s cut off when he’s smacking you right between your thighs, exhaling against your neck, and the sweet ache dulls to a throbbing need.

“Toji cannot be HR, maybe Choso. He’s so cute you know- ow!”

“That’s it. I’m breaking out the whip.”

“Kuna!”

“You’re a brat - f-fuck…” He’s trailing off when you’re arching your ass up, pressing against his growing length, eyeing him.

“No one’s as sexy as my Kuna. Papa Kuna.”

“I’m done.” Sukuna pulls open a drawer, you flush when you see it, a little black leather flogger, then you glare.

“Who’d you use that on, Candy?” He grins now, standing tall and pressing you down by the back of your neck.

“Arch your ass up, brat.” His murmur is met with your immediate response, arching for him, despite you running your mouth, you want it. “Jealous of Candy, how can you be? Have you seen yourself?”

“If the whip touched her I swear- mnh!” He taps you with it gently, a low throaty laugh, wrapping his hand around your neck as he gently smacks the other side of your ass cheek, making your tummy clench.

“I like you jealous, it’s sexy… just like this outfit is ending me, look too fucking good in it, brat.”

“You want me all slutty, hmm?”

“Just for me.” His possessive tone sends shivers through you, he’s smacking your cunt lightly, stinging and making you wetter, before he presses the leather against your clit over dripping wet panties, just when the door knocks and he groans out his frustration, your little giggle earns you a sharp bite on your neck. “I’ll finish this later, just wait.”

“I’m terrified, Papa Kuna.” He puts the whip up, adjusting your skirt before he sits back down, pulling you right on his thigh, exhaling at the heat he feels, his arm wrapping around your waist, hand right on your tummy.

“Gonna have you so full of me.” His whisper in your ear has you shivering, biting your lip, he watches with a cocky grin as the knock starts again. “Come on in, then, shit.”

“You’re so friendly, you know.” Toji walks in then, frowning over at Sukuna, and you feel the energy shift.

“What’s wrong?” You ask softly, Toji sighs then.

“I may need some help with something.” You look at Sukuna, nodding and walking away, touching Toji’s shoulder gently, earning his little smile.

“It better be good, just had my girl bent over my desk.” Sukuna leans back, crossing his arms, legs spread, as Toji shuts the door behind him, staring at it for a moment.

“That shot girl…”

“You think she’s hot?”

“She’s… I need to know… about her.” Sukuna snorts a bit then, leaning forward on his hand. “Yeah she’s hot, okay?”

“I didn’t realize I’m running a matchmaking service. I should charge you.” Toji snorts, sitting down across from him now. “Shit you’re serious?”

“Just want info. I helped you  plenty, ya owe me something.”

“Shit, alright, but I swear if you interrupt me fucking again, I’m gonna take you the fuck out.” Toji chuckles, and Sukuna starts wrapping up the rest of the money. “What did you wanna know?”

Later on, as you both are overseeing the club, Sukuna finds you again, with the strobing lights going, the music reverberating through your bodies. There are dancers everywhere, in various stages of undress, cocaine being sold with every fucking shot, this is not ordinary life, but it is your ordinary life now, the hustle of it all, the thrill when his hands are on your waist.

“Toji’s down bad.” He says, and your brows raise in surprise.

“Toji Fushiguro!?”

“Mmhmm. He’s gonna be the next lovesick fool. God, look at Gojo.�� You giggle as you see him, cupping his girl’s face, looks so intense they could fill an entire fucking room.

“Let them be happy, you crab.”

“Crab!?”

“Mmhmm. We’re happy. Yeah?” Your pretty smile ends him, as he pictures just everything he wants from you.

A whole fucking life with you.

“Ready for that trip tomorrow?” He asks, hand entwining with yours, turning your chin up as he hugs you from behind.

“I can’t wait, Kuna.”

A/N- Toji's story is up nextttt - preview here. And ofc we will get mob Gojo chap 4 Next (Losing Control Now) Next chap is the last of their storyyy, I've really had fun, ty for those who have loved on this story with me! <3

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[ariichive]

MALFUNCTIONᯓ ⋆°•

moving in with caleb was bound to have its ups and downs... but did he have to modify everything in his home to keep track of you? cw: fem. reader, caleb being overprotective and borderline insane, lowkey stalking, cameras, established relationship, reader can be mc or not, #ilovecaleb, mullet caleb yummy, wrote this listening to my 2020 playlist...

everything in caleb's space was so very... you. the foods in the fridge, the furniture, the tidiness of it all. there was so much of you, and it was quickly becoming a safe haven.

it seemed everything caleb owned was carefully picked out with your interests and not his.

you remember asking him about it, if he was truly okay with you taking over his space like this; especially since you never spent a dime while with him.

his answer still fresh in your mind.

"trust me honey, this is all i've ever wanted." he said with a sincere smile and a pat to your head, "besides, there's still a lot of me around, you just gotta find it."

back then, you weren't sure what he meant exactly and seen it as a way of him comforting you.

now, however, as the microwave locked your frozen dinner in there you realized what he meant.

caleb always cooked for you, he knew your desired calorie intake, allergies, and all the foods you didn't like.

you never had to lift a finger in the kitchen when he was around, because he had already taken care of everything before you even had the chance to think about it.

but now, standing in the quiet hum of the microwave, the absence of his presence was deafening. he was on a rather long mission with the fleet. he did prepackage all your meals, labeled and all, but admittedly... being bored with nothing to do except eat made the meals go quicker than expected. surprisingly, there was a frozen pasta dinner shoved in the back of the freezer. it wasn't the most ideal, but it was the best you could do without your personal chef and boyfriend.

it was a little embarrassing how dependent you became on him. you knew if he were here, he'd kiss your head and tell you he'll make those nasty thoughts go away.

there were still traces of him all around you, in the way the spice rack was arranged just so, the way the couch cushions bore the slightest indent from where he always sat, and even the basket of apples on the counter.

you sighed, leaning against the counter as the microwave beeped, signaling your sad little dinner was ready.

there was a small problem though.

the microwave wasn't opening.

no matter how much strength you used, the door just wasn't opening. you felt your eyebrow twitch; did you somehow manage to break his microwave? there was no way; sure, you relied on him a bit, but you definitely remembered the basics in the kitchen.

before you could get more frustrated, your phone dinged.

caleb <3: where did u even find that lol? thought i threw those all out :,)

you stared at your phone in deadpan before glancing back at the microwave, quickly texting back.

[name]: how did you even...?

caleb <3: baby, i got eyes everywhere

you huffed, shaking your head. of course he somehow knew you were about to eat the one frozen dinner he swore he got rid of.

[name]: okay, stalker. but actually, i think ur microwave is broken??? it won’t open.

the typing bubble appeared instantly.

caleb <3: yeah, ik... had some free time, messed around with a few things :p

another message came through right after.

caleb <3: say, what happened to the meals i prepared for you?

then another...

caleb <3: did you not like them? let me know so i know for the future if your tastes changed, sorry pretty girl

you were quick to type out a response, seeing as his typing bubble didn't disappear.

[name]: no!! i loved them all, just... they're gone :(

the message was marked as read immediately as he your phone began to ring.

you sighed, but your lips curled into a small smile as you answered.

“hi, caleb.”

“hi,” he echoed, his voice warm despite the slight scolding tone. “now, tell me, honey—how are they already gone? i made sure they’d last until i got back.”

you pouted, sinking further into the couch. “i got bored… and they were really good.”

caleb chuckled, and you could just picture the way he’d be shaking his head if he were here. “i swear, you’re gonna make me start rationing your meals.”

“you wouldn’t.”

“would i?”

you frowned. “…would you?”

his laugh came through the speaker, low and sweet. “nah, i could never say no to you. but seriously, baby, if you need more food, i'll order something. don’t go eating those frozen meals, they’re so bad for you.”

“it’s just one,” you mumbled.

“still. i don’t like the thought of you eating that while i’m gone.”

you sighed, tugging at the microwave one more time. “well, maybe if you weren’t so far away…”

“aw, do you miss me, pretty girl?”

you refused to answer that; he already knew the answer.

caleb hummed. “yeah… i miss you too.”

his voice was softer now, and your chest ached at how much you just wanted him here.

“i’ll be back soon,” he promised. “then i’ll make you something actually edible, alright?”

you smiled. “alright.”

“good girl.”

you felt your cheeks heat up, and caleb laughed again, as if he knew. (which he did).

“love you, honey.”

“love you too,” you murmured, holding the phone a little tighter. "why exactly is the microwave locked?" you decided to question one more time.

caleb chuckled, "i know you, [name]. even if i wasn't watching you, you'd open it and still eat the pasta. better to take... precautionary measures for my pipsqueak. did you even check the expiration date?"

ignoring his question, you did a quick lookover of the room, looking for the camera he had somewhere as he only laughed. "maybe instead of looking for the cameras, find what else i modified in the house, it'll keep you occupied. i'll order you food in the meantime."

you groaned, flopping back against the couch. “caleb, i swear, if you messed with anything else—”

“if? honey, i definitely did.”

your eyes narrowed. “like what?”

“mmm, can’t say. that’d ruin the fun, wouldn’t it?”

you let out a dramatic sigh. “you are a menace.”

“and you love me for it.”

unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.

you stood up, glancing around the apartment, suddenly suspicious of everything. you had no idea when he found the time to do all this, but knowing caleb, he planned ahead weeks in advance, just for moments like these.

the phone call was cut short as commotion started on his mission, leading you to sadly have to hang up.

you sighed, setting your phone down and eyeing the apartment with renewed suspicion.

as if on cue, you heard a soft click.

you turned your head slowly.

the front door.

more specifically, the new deadbolt that you definitely hadn’t installed.

your stomach dropped. oh, no.

another quick text from caleb.

caleb <3: your food is outside, i unlocked the door for you to grab it <3 be quick.

you did as he said, quickly grabbing the food delivery from outside, the door locking as soon as you got back in.

[name]: caleb. why is the door locked from the outside?

it took him a moment to reply, likely caught up with work, but when his name finally popped up on your screen, you already knew you wouldn’t like his answer.

caleb <3: oh, that? safety measures, honey. u can unlock it, but only through the app i installed on ur phone :)

you blinked. what app?

as soon as you asked, a new icon appeared on your screen—a sleek little security app with a familiar-looking otto icon.

caleb <3: just in case u ever get any funny ideas about leaving late at night alone.

your jaw dropped.

[name]: caleb. you remote locked me inside our home.

caleb <3: our very safe home! where nothing bad can happen to u!! :D i'll text u when i get to safety, enjoy ur food pipsqueak!

i love caleb btw

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ʜᴏᴛ ɢɪʀʟ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪꜱᴛ: ᴍɪɴɢʏᴜ ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!mingyu x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: smut/angst/fluff

♡ Summary: A night out with your boyfriend takes an unexpected turn when his ex shows up at the same party with her heart set on getting him back. After catching her flirting with him you run off, deciding to continue your night without him but Mingyu's not letting you go so easily. He comes after you with full intentions of showing you that you're the only girl he wants and he'll do whatever it takes to prove it.

♡ Warnings: drinking, mingyu has a lil switch energy, dirty talk, some very wet oral sex (f receiving), mingyu loves your clit, tongue fucking, pussy drunk mingyu, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, spanking, scratching, manhandling, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, pet names (baby, princess)

♡ A/N: Hello my darlings. This is the second entry or "track" in my Hot Girl Playlist series. This is the ✨masterlist✨ if you wanna check it out. As a chubby Mingyu biased babe I low-key had too much fun making this but, like, is that even possible? Anyways, I hope you have fun reading, my loves xoxoxo

“Bout 20 missed calls he faded. White boy wasted, Channing Tatum” - Megan thee Stallion

“Girl that man is blowing your phone up” your best friend smirks, squeezing in beside you to check herself out in the mirror. “What’d you lace your pussy with? Crack?” 

You almost snort laughing at her comment, “Shut the fuck up.”

“What?” she giggles, eyeing your phone as it vibrates on the edge of the sink, “It’s not my fault the boy’s addicted. You should answer him. You know how Min gets.”

Swiping a sultry nude gloss along the bow of your upper lip, you spare your phone a glance. It flashes a familiar name accompanied by a photo of you with the man in question. It’s a selfie from the last beach trip you took together. Your soft lips are pressed to his cheek and he’s making the cutest face, his nose scrunched up at the warmth your kiss sends rushing to his face. You vividly remember how happy the two of you were that day but right now happiness is the last thing that comes to mind when you think of him. 

Your phone stops ringing and for a moment there’s nothing. Only the muffled sound of music bleeding in from a party raging just beyond the door. And then another vibration. A text message.

Mingyu: Where are you? Did you leave? 

“He can get however he wants” you huff, shoving your phone into your purse, “He’ll get over it or he won’t. Either way.”

“Cold blooded” she teases, shaking her head, “Who knew you could be such a brat?”

A brat? You aren’t being a brat. Well, maybe a little but it’s not like you don’t have good reason to be. You know for a fact that she’d be livid if she were in your position. Five minutes. That’s how long you left Mingyu alone before his ex was all over him. You’ve never been ignorant to the possibility that he’d run into her again. They travel in the same social circles so it was bound to happen at some point. What you didn’t expect was for it to sting this much when it did. 

Your mind cruelly plays back the image of Mingyu’s ex cuddled up beside him on the couch, her fingertips at the ready to stroke his pecs through his shirt. To his credit, he did grab her by the wrist, saying something to her that you couldn’t quite make out. Whatever it was, it was clear from the look on her face that she didn’t like it, but it wasn’t until she noticed you approaching that she scurried back to where she came from.

He swore on his life that it was nothing. She’d come over flirting, he told her he had a girlfriend, and that was the end of it. But you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing him as to why she felt so comfortable coming over to begin with. Why was he just sitting there? Why didn’t he kick her clean across the room before she even managed to get that close?

Maybe that last one was a bit irrational but you were pissed. Making sense was the last thing on your mind. You walked off before he could answer, deciding that you weren’t gonna let this ruin your night out. If he wanted to stick around he had his own friends to hang with. You’d go off and do your own thing. You look way too good in this dress to let it go to waste. 

Mingyu started blowing your phone up almost immediately. Call after call with frantic texts sprinkled in between. You were positive that he must be searching every floor of this house to find you but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when you were busy downing shots and shaking ass on your bestie like she was your man. That distracted you from your emotions long enough but staring at your reflection in the mirror now you feel your gut twisting, a hint of sadness lingering behind your eyes. 

“I’m heading back out. You ready?” your best friend asks, heading for the door. 

You force a smile, pretending to dig through your purse for something. “I’ll be out in a sec. Meet me downstairs by the bar?”

“Fine but hurry up. I told those dudes we’d kick their asses in beer pong and I refuse to be proven wrong.”

“Because god forbid we ruin your beloved beer pong streak” you tease and she lovingly flips you off on her way out.

You keep that fake smile plastered on your face until you’re sure she’s gone and the second she is you deflate. You want so badly to keep up the facade of a girl unphased by anything but you’re phased. You’re phased so hard and nothing can change that. No amount of shots will make you forget how your heart sunk to the floor at the sight of them together.

You recall hearing that his ex was a model. She’d walked at New York Fashion Week once and made it into a few ads. By the looks of her you can believe it. It hurts to admit but the girl was gorgeous. What if, somewhere in the back of Mingyu’s mind, seeing her made him regret his decision? Your spiraling thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the bathroom door that forces you out of your own head. 

“Someone’s in here!” you shout but the door knob’s still turning. Thank god you aren’t on the toilet right now. “I said someone’s in here!”

“I heard you,” Mingyu says as he forces his way inside, slamming the door behind him.

He gives you no time to process, pinning you against the sink before you can react. Muscular arms cage you in on each side, as his dark eyes stare into yours, his gaze sharp enough to slice you to pieces.

“I’ve called you, like, 20 times. Why aren’t you answering?”

You sigh, in no mood to be interrogated, “I don’t know, Min. I haven’t really been checking my phone.”

Mingyu sucks his teeth, the veins in his arms flexing as his grip tightens around the edge of the sink. “That’s bullshit. I know you’ve been ignoring me.”

You can tell by the rosy tint of his cheeks that he’s been drinking more than he should. If you’re being honest, you have been too. The mature thing would be to wait until you’re both sober to have this conversation but that ship has sailed. 

“I haven’t been ignoring you, you’re just wasted and paranoid” you snap, seeing nothing wrong with a bit of gaslighting under the circumstances. 

“Wasted and paranoid?” he scoffs, “Projecting a little bit aren’t we?” 

“Oh, fuck you. Get off me.”

You place your hands on his chest with every intention to push him away but when he hangs his head, regret washing over his face, you can’t bring yourself to do it.

“Fuck, I’m sorry” he says through a curtain of silky dark hair, “I shouldn’t have said that. I just don’t want you to be mad at me.” 

“I don’t know how to not be mad, Min” you say, the sincerity in his voice tugging at your heartstrings, “I thought that part of your life was over.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair, meeting your eyes with a gaze that’s much softer now. “It is over. It has been for a long time. If I knew she was gonna be here we never would’ve come. That girl doesn’t mean anything to me. You’re the only one who does.”

When you turn your head away leaving a long span of silence where your words should be, he cups your cheek, forcing you to look at him. His thumb sweeps gently across your cheek and you melt like ice cream on a sunny day. You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol or the ex thing but you’re hit with a sudden wave of emotion, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I just don’t want you to regret choosing me” you confess, your voice breaking as you fight back tears. 

Mingyu can never stand to see you cry and it breaks him to know that you might, especially over something like this. “How can I regret choosing you when you aren’t optional? It’s not her or you. It’s just you. I love you. You have to know that.” You sniffle, a tear racing over the curve of your cheek. Mingyu wipes it away, the pad of his thumb soothing the spot where it fell.

“Tell me you know that” he pleads, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, “I love you. What do I have to do for you to believe me? You want me to get down on my knees?” 

“I—” you start to speak but he’s already dropping to his knees, looking up at you with the sweetest doe eyes. “Get up off the floor.”

Mingyu rests his chin against the softness of your thighs, delighting in their warmth. “No. Not until you believe me” he says, planting tender kisses where your thighs meet, “If my word’s not good enough maybe my actions can be.” 

You snake your fingers through his hair, gently tugging his head back but his lips are drawn to your body like magnets. They’re back on you in an instant, his tongue dragging across the surface of your skin as his lips find their way to the hem of your dress. You watch with bated breath as Mingyu grabs you by the hips, gathering the fabric of your dress between his fingers. He raises it little by little, each kiss inching him closer and closer to his final destination. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, your body tingling in all the places his lips meet. 

How demure of you to ask that question when you already know the answer. You know very well why he’s pushing this skin tight black dress up over your waist, his tongue teasing the silk trim of your panties. The emotions you’re feeling tonight are enough to give you whiplash. One minute you’re storming off, the next you’re on the verge of tears, and now your pussy’s wetter than a faucet. What’s a girl to do? 

Throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, Mingyu buries his face between your thighs, his nose grazing the spot where your stiff little clit has just begun to throb. He nuzzles against it, sending faint notes of pleasure rippling through you. 

He draws in a deep breath, salivating at your scent. “You always smell so fucking good, baby” he hums, stroking the growing wet spot in your panties. “Always so wet for me too.” 

Mingyu tucks your panties to the side and you release the lightest moan at the sensation of the cool air meeting your dripping core. At the same time your nipples tighten behind the fabric of your dress and the combination leaves you purring. Your boyfriend’s not faring any better. He was hard before he got down here, just the thought of tasting you had gotten him there, but seeing your pussy be so pretty and wet has his cock pulsing against the unforgiving material of his pants. 

If only you could feel how badly he wants you—how he craves you every day in more ways than one—maybe then you wouldn’t question his devotion. When you wouldn’t answer his calls he swore up and down that he wouldn’t just let you get away with it only to fold for you in under a minute. He’s quite literally on his knees for you but there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. 

“Aah, Min…” you whine when he plunges a finger into your warmth. 

Your purse tumbles to the ground, the contents spilling across the tile floor as you prop your elbows back up against the sink. A clumsy attempt at keeping your trembling body from giving out on you. It’s mind blowing how just one finger can feel this good. How such delicate strokes can make your walls clench so tightly. 

“You want more?” Mingyu asks, glancing up to you. He already has the next finger at the ready, ghosting your slit. You rock your hips towards that sickeningly handsome face of his and he sticks his tongue out, letting it glide over your clit. “Use your words, princess. I need you to say it. You want one more?” He introduces a third, stretching you open just enough to tease you with them. “Two more?” 

Your pussy’s aching, your walls fluttering wildly, doing everything to draw him in. You part your lips and the sexiest, neediest voice comes out. “Mmm, two more. Please, Min.”

Mingyu smiles, giving you exactly what you asked for. You were so polite with it. How could he ever deny you? It takes little effort on his part to guide the other two into you. Your pussy’s so eager that it sucks them right up, your juices saturating his fingers so that every movement makes a delicious squelching sound. It’d be a nice form of payback to toy with you for a while—make you beg for his attention after denying him of yours for the past hour—but that’d be torturing himself too. The taste of your clit lingers on his tongue and he knows that if he doesn’t have more he’ll go insane. 

His mouth crashes into you, his tongue hungrily lapping at your pussy like it’s the first thing he’s had all night. It may not be the first thing but it’s hands down the best. The satisfied groans he makes while circling your clit do more than enough to tell you so. It’s hard to keep yourself upright when he’s eating you out like this, his fingers drilling into you, stretching you so perfectly that your thigh’s quaking on his shoulder. You press your lips together, doing your best to keep quiet, but Mingyu will have none of that. He knows exactly where your sweet spot is and he hits it every time, destroying any chance you have at being quiet. 

“Don’t hold back, baby” he coos, pulling back to show you a face drenched in your juices, “I wanna hear all those pretty moans while you come on my face.” 

Slipping his fingers out of you, Mingyu grips your hips, lifting you onto the counter like it’s nothing. It stings when your plush ass hits the polished marble but there’s no time to process if there’s truly any pain. Mingyu’s hands are on your thighs, dragging you to the edge of the counter and spreading your legs wide. He dives back in, his tongue filling the space where his fingers once were. With one hand full of your soft belly, he uses the other to play with your clit, pressing down on the bud as his tongue rides the ridges of your walls.

You let your moans flow freely, all of the shyness leaving your body the moment his tongue enters it. You catch yourself feeling light headed and you know for sure this time that it isn’t the alcohol. Your hips stutter and Mingyu locks eyes with you, both of you knowing how dangerously close you are to your high. He moves faster—messier—slurping you down. You extend a shaky hand between your legs, lovingly petting his cheek as he pushes you to the brink. 

He locks his arms around your thighs, forcing you to stay in place while you squirt down his throat. Your body twists in his grip but it’s no match for his strength. You can’t run from this. He wants you to feel it and fuck do you feel it. Your vision goes blurry and you swear you go deaf for a minute. By the time you’re coming down you aren’t even sure which planet you’re on.

Mingyu takes his time standing up, getting his last few licks in as he rises. He’s so drunk off of your pussy that the room’s spinning a bit when he comes up. He clings to the counter for support, his lips glistening with your cum as he stands over you looking like he wants more. Sitting up, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in for a sloppy, breathless kiss that tastes entirely of you. 

“You said you love me, Min?” you whisper between his lips. You sneak a hand between the two of you, rolling your palm against his bulge. 

Mingyu nods, moaning as he leans into your touch, “Mmhmm, love you so much.”

Popping the button on his jeans open, you slide the zipper down, dipping a hand into his boxers to stroke his length. “Then fuck me like you do.”

Your words are like gasoline to a flame that’s been raging inside of him since he planted that first kiss on your thigh. You’ve barely even finished your sentence when he’s sliding you off the counter, the back of your dress bunched up in his hand as he bends you over the sink. 

“Ooh, someone’s excited” you giggle, squealing as he snatches your panties down hard enough to make them rip. “I hope you know you’re buying me new ones.” 

You poke your ass out and he gives it a harsh slap just to watch it jiggle. “Keep being this cute and I’ll buy you whatever you want.” 

“In that case, I did see some shoes I liked the other day and…aaah” 

Mingyu rubs the tip of his cock against your entrance and you’re dizzier than you've ever been. He’s not even in yet, just barely stretching you open, but you’re so sensitive from your last orgasm that a light breeze could make you shiver.

Mingyu’s eyes flit back and forth between two visions he wishes he could burn into his brain. First there’s the reflection of you in the mirror, so pretty your bottom lip wedged between your teeth, hips rocking as he presses into you. And then there’s that glorious space between your legs, so creamy and warm, trickling juices with every inch it’s fed. The whimper that escapes him when he bottoms out makes you clamp down on him, his cock twitching in your core, his arousal slicking your walls. 

Grabbing your ass cheeks, he spreads you open, stretching you wider. “You know who this cock belongs to. Don’t you, baby?” 

“I…I don’t know” you tease, “Is it mine?” 

Mingyu draws back a bit, thrusting into you so that your lush breasts bounce from the impact. “You tell me.” He pulls back again, his hips snapping into you even rougher. “Does it feel like it’s yours?”

“Aah, fuck, yes it’s mine” you moan, heels scraping against the tile as your back arches.

He rewards a good answer with an increase in pace, each stroke faster than the last. If Mingyu had to compare being inside you to any feeling in the world he wouldn’t be able to do it. His brain can’t grasp a single thing on this planet that can even come close to this. You could stimulate all his senses at one time, flood them with every pleasure known to man, and it’d still be nothing compared to you.

In the midst of your own bliss you catch glimpses of him behind you, fucking you like it’s all he was ever made for. He’s ready to unravel over you and the knowledge of what you’re doing to him only heightens what you feel. 

“Love you, Min” you whisper back at him, properly returning his affection for the first time tonight. You say it like you mean it. Your insecurities wilting away to leave nothing but pure admiration for the man who loves you. 

It hits Mingyu hard, the pressure inside of him reaching its peak. He clenches his teeth, nails scraping along the swollen flesh of your ass. He’s holding back so hard that it hurts, refusing to let himself reach his high before you do. 

Reaching behind you, you gently stroke the back of his hand, “Come for me, mmph, wanna feel you.” 

Your voice rings in his ears, making him lose any shred of sanity he had left. Hot ropes of cum spurt from the head of his cock, hitting you right where it needs to and you’re falling apart right along with him. Mingyu doesn’t let up on you, the juices spilling from your walls only making him want you more. No matter how messy—how sticky, how wet—he wants every bit of you until there’s nothing left. 

“Fuck, I think I’m dying” he gasps, his heart pounding as he peels himself away from you. He’s only halfway through fixing his pants when his balance gives out and he slumps to the floor. 

You turn around to find him sitting there, your own limbs barely keeping you up. “You’re not dying. You’re just dehydrated. Want some water?”

Lugging yourself over to him, you collapse onto his lap and he doesn’t hesitate to take you into his arms. You rest your head on his shoulder and he takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. 

“No thank you. I already have what I want” he smiles, kissing your inner wrist. 

You want to scold him—tell him that no, actually he does need some water—but you let it go. Choosing instead to enjoy the warmth of being in his arms as his kisses make their way from your wrist to your fingertips. Mingyu worships you, honestly and truly, and it’s about time you just let him. 

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely, how are you?? I hope you’re doing okay. First of all and most important I want to tell you how much I love your fics and your writing, they bring me so much comfort and you are truly a talent so ilysm. I wanted to ask you if you’d be up to write a poly!marauders x reader (I think request are open now but if I’m wrong dont mind this, sorry) where reader is just very overwhelmed and feels like everyone has a purpose in life (hobby, dream job etc) but reader feels like she hasn’t one, and she fears she will waste her life (if you think some of your others works are too similar then again dont worry :) ) anyway so sorry for the kinda long request (and not totally a rent, pfff…) I literally love you so much, have a great day/night🩷

Thanks for requesting angel <3

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Sirius can always be counted on for an unquestioning cuddle. You only had to enter the sitting room and lay yourself down on his lap, and he began playing with your hair as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Remus looked up from where he was reading in the chair next to you both, but ultimately he must have decided it was common enough behavior from you not to remark upon. 

It’s a nice day out. Sunny. James woke up and opened half the windows first thing, letting in the breeze and the smell of changing seasons. You were thinking earlier about finding an excuse to go lay about on some grass somewhere, but now you can’t be bothered. You turn your cheek to Sirius’ chest instead, soaking in the warmth that comes from him. 

“Darling,” he says after a while. 

“Yeah?” 

Sirius traces his pinkie finger along your hairline. “If we’re going to mope together, you’ve got to at least tell me what we’re moping about.” 

You very intentionally do not sigh. If you focus, you can feel his heart beating underneath your cheek. “We’re not moping.” 

“We’re not?” 

“No.” 

“Oh, good.” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone. You don’t dare look over to see if Remus is paying attention. “Let’s have a smile, then?” 

You’re reluctant to pick your head up, but you do, turning so Sirius can see you before stretching your lips until you feel your cheeks pushing up against your eyes. 

Sirius actually laughs. It’s so fond you can’t really hold it against him. 

He takes your face in his hands. “That’s good,” he says, kissing you right in the center of the stretch. “Really persuasive effort, lovely. Penny for your thoughts?” 

You hesitate. “I…” 

Sirius' grin fades as he realizes you’re serious. He keeps his eyes on yours, steady and encouraging. 

“I feel like I don’t really do much.” 

He frowns. “That’s not true.” 

“How do you mean, love?” Remus asks in a more considerate tone. He is paying attention, then. 

“Like…” Your face is still trapped in Sirius’ hands, but you find yourself looking away from him. “I just sort of go to work and come home, you know? I don’t have hobbies or…or aspirations or any of those things.” 

“All any of us do is go to work and come home,” Sirius argues. 

“No, you have other things. You have goals.” 

“You have goals. You were just saying you want to start stretching and become more flexible.” 

Your mouth tightens. “That’s not the same. That’s a small goal.” 

Sirius lets his hand drop from your face, stroking lightly down your arm. He looks genuinely perplexed. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“It’s not the same as having a purpose.” 

Your boyfriend’s eyebrows jump. “A purpose?” 

“Yeah,” you say. Your upset feels like it’s solidifying the more you put it into words. “I don’t do anything. My life doesn’t have any purpose.” 

“Well, hold on,” says Remus. He tents his book on the armrest of his chair, leaning forward to see you better. “That’s an awfully large leap to make.” 

“It’s true,” you say, embarrassment softening your voice halfway through. Both Remus and Sirius look displeased, but they don’t contradict you. You’re sitting in an elongated beat of silence when the front door opens. 

“I’ve brought juices!” 

It doesn’t quite make you smile, but something in you lightens as you and your boyfriends share a look. Ever since James got a membership to this new fancy gym, he can never leave without buying one of their overpriced wares. 

He’s stolen one of your headbands again. Sweaty hair pushed back from his face but flopping forward anyway as he bends to kiss Remus’ head, passing him a plastic cup of green juice. 

“Who wants the one with lots of ginger?” 

“I’ll take it,” you say, because you catch the face Sirius’ makes. James passes it to you. “Thanks.” 

“You know, I have a guest pass.” James slumps down beside you, sipping from his own juice. “If you still want to get more flexible, we could do a yoga class together sometime.” 

The ginger in your drink burns slightly as it goes down. How pathetic does it make you, that you mention one small goal to your boyfriends and suddenly that’s your whole life? How dull does it make you? 

“Jamie,” says Sirius, “what would you say your purpose in life is?” 

James nearly chokes on his juice. He coughs, Remus reaching over to pat him on the back. You feel culpable. 

“Sorry—that’s rather a lot for the morning, isn’t it? I usually keep my existential crises to the evenings.” 

Sirius grins wryly, nudging you where you sit between his legs. “Someone didn’t tell this one the rules.” 

“Oh.” When James realizes that the question has come from you and not as a result of some of Sirius’ mischievousness, he becomes more contemplative. “Hm. I suppose I usually tell myself that my purpose is to be happy, is that a good answer?” 

“I like that,” says Remus. He’s looking at James with a fond expression. “What about you, sweetheart, do you think that’s a good answer?” 

You shy at being put back on the spot. “Yeah,” you say. “It’s sweet. That’s a good one.” 

“I think it’s all we can do.” James shrugs. He’s obviously tired from the gym, sweat-damp clothes sticking to his skin, but with the light that comes in through the window shining on his face he does look like he’s fulfilling his purpose. His eyes are bright. “Try to enjoy life, I mean. Try to be happy, try to make other people happy, try to be good.” He smiles, cringing a bit at his own earnestness. “Why, what’ve you all been talking about?” 

Sirius and Remus are quiet. They’re letting you take the lead. You appreciate it and wish they wouldn’t at the same time, every word you try out too heavy on your tongue. 

“I’ve just been feeling like,” you say after a handful of moments, “I’m sort of wasting my life by not having some higher aspiration or something. Like, I don’t do very much, and I’m not unhappy, but I don’t want to just…never do anything with my life. I don’t know what I would do, though.” 

You keep making your boyfriends frown. James’ expression isn’t quite that, but he’s not smiling either. 

“I don’t think it’s fair to say you’re wasting your life,” he says. “You’re…we love you, and you love us, right? And there’s other people who you love and they love you back, too. That’s a good life purpose, isn’t it, to love? I don’t see how anything can be a waste if you have that.” 

Your throat constricts. Sirius gets his arm around your middle, squeezing. 

“That’s a good answer,” you admit. 

James’ cheek dimples. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Sirius gives you a very thorough cuddle after that. You pretend to be neither embarrassed nor overly needy about it, though you’re both. James attempts to do the same to Remus, who only allows it for a minute before ushering James towards the shower. You finish your juice and then Sirius’ too. 

When James sees you looking contemplative again during your yoga class together the next week, he comes out of child’s pose to kiss you sweetly on your head and tell you he’s proud of you. You feel deeply loved.

[brawberryz]

⎯⎯ Blind Love

⎯⎯ Jason Todd × Blind! Reader

Note: English is not my first language/ inspired by the manga Veil

TW / None,i just a little drabble

Snow fell in torrents through the city streets.

The snow painted the streets a white color, giving life to this dead city.

Your footsteps echoed through the cold city streets like a small tinkling sound.

You stood out among all the citizens, having such a charming yet simple style.

Your cane tapped the ground as you walked slowly down the street.

You were supposed to get to your new apartment, but you were lost, and being blind wasn't much help either.

Maybe you should have asked for a guide, but you wanted to be independent.

You grew up your whole life in a very overprotective family because of your disability, which bothered you.

They treated you like you were made of glass, as if you were going to break at some point.

You were tired of so much overprotection, so you decided to move to a new place.

But apparently you overreacted and ended up moving not only to another city but also to another country.

You were so confident in yourself. You didn't even notice you were lost, and someone like you on the streets of Gotham wasn't the best idea.

You were so distracted by your thoughts that your cane collided with someone's foot, causing you to stop dead in your tracks when you heard a small sound of pain as your cane hit the stranger.

"Ah! Excuse me..."

You said embarrassedly, apparently you ended up colliding with a stranger who was sitting on a bench.

It was only your first day here and you'd already messed up. You apologized several times without letting the stranger speak.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't hurt you, right?"

A small, awkward silence formed between the two of you until the stranger deigned to speak first.

"Don't worry, I've taken worse hits."

He said ironically. You just nodded, still embarrassed, but you could feel the man getting up and you could feel his imposing figure in front of you.

It's not that he's shorter, it's just that he was too tall.

"Wow, you're really tall!" You said without thinking about your words. You were someone who tended to say things without thinking, and that sometimes got you into trouble. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"No, calm down, it's okay."

Jason noticed from your nod. You weren't from this place. It was easy to spot someone new when they'd spent their entire life in this city.

"Hey, do you know this place?"

You asked suddenly, handing her a small piece of paper with all the information she needed written down, but they seemed to have forgotten that you were blind.

"Oh yeah, sure."

Jason took the paper as he read it, but all he could think about was how a person could stay with their eyes closed for so long.

Those doubts, though, were answered after seeing the cane and how you couldn't read something as simple as this paper.

Noticing that so late made him feel like an idiot.

"You should go straight and then turn left. On your right, you'll find your destination."

He said, trying to be as clear as possible. You just nodded happily and then took out your cane again.

"Thank you so much for the help!"

You said before returning with your slow steps. Something in him told him he should follow you and keep you safe.

You were new to Gotham, and your blindness made you easy prey for criminals.

Besides, he was a hero, or a good antihero, but he still had a desire for justice and to protect others, and he couldn't let someone like you walk the streets of Gotham.

"Careful, there's a staircase there!"

He yelled at you from afar when he saw you about to step on a step wrong. You just turned your head and nodded with a small laugh.

"I know, you shouldn't worry."

Your steps were slow but refined as you climbed the stairs. Something in Jason's chest burned every time he sensed something dangerous for you.

He had only met you a few minutes, but he already felt strange.

What the hell was happening to him?

"Are you sure? Is there no one to accompany you, or are you alone?"

He asked curiously, and you just nodded, not paying much attention.

You didn't need anyone's protection. You'd spent your whole life being overprotected, and you didn't need anyone else to worry about you.

"You shouldn't worry. Besides, let me warn you, following me won't get you to Wonderland."

Jason just arched at your sudden comment.

"Do I look like Alice to you?"

You could only let out a small laugh at the man's question.

"Well, maybe a little, but don't be offended, it's my favorite story!"

'She laughed...' That was the only thing Jason could think when he heard your laugh.

"Well, maybe you're right," he said as he approached you. "I almost fell into a hole today. It was an open sewer, and I almost fell in because I was too distracted."

"Ah..." You nodded, surprised but a little curious about the man's story. "Oh! Right, I haven't introduced myself. I'm (Name)!"

You felt like an idiot now. You'd spent a few minutes talking to the man, but you weren't even able to ask his name or introduce yourself properly, where were your manners!

"(Name)..." He said, repeating your name as if he were tasting it in his mouth. "You can call me Jason, Jason Todd."

"Nice name," you said, about to say something, but you were hesitant. You didn't know if you should ask him for help or not. But this was your only chance. "Sorry for asking, but do you know any places where we could get tea?"

After walking all over the city, your thirst and appetite had grown, and you thought a good cup of tea would solve everything.

"Uh, well, I know a place. But it's a bit far from here-"

"Really!"

You interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. He just nodded.

"I don't want to sound annoying, but..." You swallowed before continuing. "Could you take me to that place? I'm new around here, and you know...um."

Jason quickly understood the point. He knew you didn't want to seem useless, but he knew you needed help now.

"Yeah, sure. I hope you don't get bored with my company, though. I'm not one for words."

You shook your head in amusement.

"I don't think so. Your company can't be worse than walking down the street alone."

An inaudible laugh escaped Jason's lips. You were a very direct person.

But now that he had you closer, he noticed something. He felt like he'd seen your face somewhere.

And apparently he was right. You looked like one of those models. He saw your face for the first time when he was patrolling as usual.

Your presence was plastered all over that huge billboard that could easily light up an entire street.

Apparently, you were famous, since he'd seen your face on many posters and magazines, but he decided not to ask and kept his curiosity to himself.

"Could you give me your arm?"

"Uh-"

Before he could say anything, you answered.

"I wouldn't want to hit someone with my cane again, so you could be my guide and my eyes?"

"Oh, of course,"

He said, embarrassed, finally understanding what you meant.

You wrapped your hand around his arm and pressed against him. A small blush appeared on Jason's cheeks.

It was just the cold, right?

The blush didn't mean anything. He was just cold, or was that what he wanted to think?

Anyone who saw the two of you would think you were some kind of married couple.

"Now you'll check for any holes, right?"

You said with a small chuckle, reminding him of that incident he'd told you about.

"Of course, I'll try not to be so distracted this time."

You nodded at his comment.

Jason guided you through the snowy streets, slow steps following you as you could feel the cold breeze hitting your face.

You felt happy because after a long time, you had met someone; besides, he seemed like a nice person.

Maybe leaving home and being independent wasn't so bad.

Because if you hadn't, you would never have met him.

And he would never have met someone like you.

Maybe the two of you meeting was a coincidence or a piece of fate.

Or maybe the two of you were meant to be.

I think you should stop overthinking things. If you keep doing this, you'll most likely get some kind of headache.

The important thing is to live in the future.

And stop looking at the past

Jason is so Aleksander Code

Maybe I'll do a part 2 if I'm not too lazy

[lilhughesy]

Excuse me, you look like you love me | Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

warnings! mentions of sex (brief! not full smut, just a hint towards it. don't read if it makes you uncomfortable!), angst, panic attacks, cheating (?), fighting/pushing, nicknames (princess, pretty, blue, bluesy, bluey, etc. mentioned!)

word count: 25.7k (oops!)

summary: Y/N is Trevor Zegras' best friend, and he is more than excited to introduce her to his friends Jack and Cole during a house party in the summer before senior year of high school. The four quickly become close, eventually Y/N bonding to Jack the most. After a summer at the Hughes lake house, Jack and Y/N start developing feelings for each other. In attempts to avoid ruining friendships, they try to ignore their feelings but does it hurt the other person when one starts to pull away?

a/n: Hi everyone! I went a little (a lot) overboard with this one, I'm sorry it's so long! I will mention that not everything in this is accurate, I am aware! Thank you for all the positive feedback for my previous fic, and I hope you enjoy this one too!

(not edited!)

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Jack remembers the exact moment when he laid eyes on her and knew that she was meant to be his. It was during a house party when he and his best friend, Trevor Zegras, were 17 in the summer. Trevor insisted that Jack and Cole came with him to yet another party since Trevor wanted them to meet a few of his friends from high school.

Of course, neither one of the boys were the types to say “no” to a night of drinking and fun — the three always ended up being the lives of the party. Jack walked through the glass front door with Cole next to him, immediately darting towards the makeshift bar in the kitchen.

The music was blasting off the multiple connected speakers and the LED lights were shining purple. Bodies of teenagers were scattered throughout the main level of the house and the large backyard.

“Hey! You boys made it!” Trevor exclaimed, approaching his friends and giving a firm slap on the back, “Shane said to help yourselves to any drink you want. Beers in the fridge, there’s also a keg outside and a cooler jam packed with drinks.”

“This is a crazy party,” Cole chuckled while handing Jack a Budweiser can, “You know everyone here, Z?”

Trevor only shrugged, “Yeah kinda, bunch of mutuals, y’know? Come on, let’s out outside! I want you to meet a few of my buddies.”

Jack’s eyes scanned the scene outdoors, the fairy lights strung up across the top of the fences and the crowd gathered around the keg. Trevor led the two towards a group mixed of guys and girls that were sitting around the nonexistent fire pit.

“Boys! This is Jack Hughes and Cole Caufield, I told you guys about ‘em” Trevor said to the group, “That’s Shane, he’s the lad hosting this thing. Over there in the green hoodie is Dyl, Kayden, and Stevie. The ladies are Maddy, Linds, and Y/N!”

The group of teens all smiled at the two hockey players, each giving their hellos to them as they were introduced. Jack’s eyes were immediately drawn to Y/N, who seemed more shy in comparison to the other girls. But Jack swore he’s never seen a girl as pretty as her. The way that the golden sun rays hit her hair, the pretty lip gloss she wore, and the way she made it look so effortless. He offered her a small smile, in which she immediately returned — she secretly hoped that he wouldn’t notice the rosiness of her cheeks.

Jack, Trevor, and Cole all sat down to join Trevor’s friends, fitting right into the conversation that was going prior. The group of ten laughing, cracking jokes, and overall enjoying the flow of summer break.

As the night went on, the group started the scatter to socialize with their other friends that came to the party. The three hockey players mostly stayed together although on a few occasions where one would deviate to spark a conversation with a girl.

Jack found himself sitting on the steps of the back patio, sipping away at his beer whilst leaning his elbows on his knees and enjoying people watching. Cole drifted away from him to chat it up with a cute blonde a few feet away, Trevor catching up with his boys since coming back from hockey camp. Jack didn’t mind, it was nice to be a regular teenager and to enjoy parties like this without the stress of morning practice.

His eyes often looking around at the different teens that were dancing or talking or singing, but his line of vision would constantly shift towards Y/N. She stood a ways away from the main crowd with her friend… “What’s her name again?” Jack thought to himself, “Madelyn? Madison? Maddy? Something like that.”

She would often glance up and make a brief second of eye contact with the blue eyed boy before he would instantly look away. Her heart warmed at the idea that he didn’t want her to catch him staring, “He’s really cute.” She smiled to herself at the, what felt like, fifteenth time of the two catching eyes.

Every time, she would feel the blush rise up on her face and her attention shifting away from the conversation that she was holding with Maddy.

“Girl, did you even hear what I just said?” Maddy asked jokingly after snapping her fingers in Y/N’s face. She blinked out of her train of thought, looking back to Maddy,

“Y- Yeah, of course I did!” She stuttered, covering her embarrassment. Maddy playfully rolled her eyes,

“Did you really or are you too busy playing eye-tag with Jack?” Maddy teased, “He’s really fucking cute, you should go talk to him!”

Y/N shook her head in response, “No way, I couldn’t.”

“Why not? He keeps looking at you when you’re talking to me. Like, he’s seriously staring!” Maddy giggled as Y/N lightly shoved her shoulder, “He looks like he’s in love with you!”

“What would I even say? I never approach guys,” She sighed, glancing over to where Jack was seated. Only for her to lock eyes with his yet again.

Her friend smiled at her, knowing that Y/N wasn’t ever the type to approach a guy she thought was cute.

“Just walk your gorgeous ass over there and say ‘excuse me, you look like you love me’!” Maddy told her, “If you want to be bold of course but you can play it off as a joke. If not, then maybe something about his staring problem?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “I don’t want to start a conversation like that. It sounds like I’m full of myself or something.”

“Just go over there! If shit goes downhill, at least you’ll never see him again,” Maddy reasoned, “He doesn’t go to our school or anything. Just shoot your shot! If you don’t, I know you’re going to regret it for the next month straight.”

She could only sigh, fully aware that Maddy had good points regarding the fact that she would never have to face him again if it didn’t go her way. Also, the idea of her regretting not speaking to Jack, who in her mind was the prettiest boy she’s ever seen, would likely haunt her forever.

Y/N looked over to Jack as he tossed his empty can perfectly into the nearby trash bin. Her stomach doing multiple flips at the sight of him adjusting his hat to sit backwards on his head, “Wow, could he be any more perfect?”

Maddy squeezed her hand, “You got this! I believe in you!”

Y/N nodded at her friend, absorbing the positive vibes that Maddy was giving her. With that she threw out her empty Twisted and went over to the outdoors cooler. She grabbed herself a bottle of Smirnoff Ice and another beer for Jack.

She stood next to the cooler after closing it, giving her a moment to collect her thoughts with a deep breath. “I can do this.” She thought to herself, and began walking towards Jack. Maybe the sudden surge of confidence was from the few drinks she had or her best friend’s words, she couldn’t quite grasp which one it was.

Y/N sat down next to him, a foot or two in between them, “Excuse me, you look like you love me.”

His head darted up and he looked over to her, a surprised yet amused expression painted across his face, “Wh- What?”

She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief that she actually used the line Maddy gave her, “I’m kidding, but your hands look empty.” She told him and offered him another beer.

Jack chuckled, trying to wrap his head around the fact that this cute girl was now next to him. He gratefully accepted the drink, “Thanks, Y/N - I appreciate it.”

“You enjoying the party?” Y/N asked him, a small strand of hair falling in her face, “There’s so many people, I would be stressed if I was in your position. So many strangers and all.”

“Yeah, this is great,” He smiled, “It’s pretty cool to see a bit of Trev’s life outside of hockey.”

It was only getting louder outside with more people moving to the backyard since the fire pit was starting. Y/N moved slightly closer towards Jack to avoid being stepped on by the individuals that stumbled past her. On occasion, nearly toppling over the girl.

“He just eats, sleeps, and breathes hockey I swear,” Y/N said to Jack, “Even at school, all he thinks and talks about is hockey.”

Jack had to inch closer to her to hear her voice properly, “Do you maybe want to move somewhere quieter? You know, to avoid you getting stomped on?”

She laughed and Jack swore it was the best thing that he’s ever heard, it was magical and magnetic.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

He rose to his feet and offered her a hand, which she gladly took. Jack led her back into the house, hand in hand, which the indoors still remained relatively noisy. He leaned down towards her ear, “I don’t know my way around this place, you know any place we can go where we don’t have to shout?”

Y/N nodded with a soft smile shining on her face, “Yeah, but does it matter to you if we leave the party?”

“Doesn’t matter to me, just gotta swing back so Cole and I can leave together.”

“Come with me!”

She and Jack weaved through the teenagers and towards the front door. Y/N guided him towards the sidewalk where it was finally more quiet, “There’s a park about a block away we can go to.”

“Yeah, sounds perfect.”

They sat on the swings, both barely swinging back and forth as they engaged in a conversation.

“So how did you and Trevor meet? He’s so loud and extroverted, and you seem more like the quiet type.” Jack asked her, watching her kick her feet back and forth against the sand, “No offence, of course.”

“None taken. We met when we were younger because he hit me in the head with a soccer ball during P.E. and I don’t know, we just stuck together after that.” She chuckled at the memory, “He typically does the talking for me, I’m more of the observing friend.”

“Sounds like something he would do, that lil fucker.” Jack joked, “Hm, tell me something that no one else knows, pretty girl.”

“Pretty girl?” Her eyebrows raised slightly in pique of curiosity, “Alright, let me think,” Y/N started in attempts to ignore the flush climbing up her neck and ears at the nickname that Jack had given her.

“I think that I’m absolutely terrified of growing up… Like, don’t get me wrong, I am so excited for college and moving out and exploring everything life has to offer but I can’t help but feel so scared too.” She sighs, melting a bit into the seat of the swing and her hands slowly grazing up and down the cold of the metal chains, “The fact that I’m closer to being twenty and having to be an adult with all the responsibilities than being a kid again is so, so scary… I like the parties and stuff,” Y/N continues while lazily waving her hands in the direction of the house party that they ditched,

“But sometimes I wish I could go back to being like eleven years old and my only worries are making sure I’m back home before sun down when I played soccer with my friends.” She added, giving Jack a sheepish smile, “I guess it’s the fear of the unknown and having to face it alone, you know?”

Jack stares in awe at the girl; for someone he assumed was shy and quiet, he was surprised how deep she went into detail. He anticipated a response amongst something along the line of having to act sober in front of parents or shoplifting an item. Though he was surprised, he felt even closer to the girl than ever before.

“Wow, I was expecting something stupid like accidentally greeting a stranger you thought was your friend or something. But, I know exactly what you mean,” He replied, reaching over to Y/N to give her shoulder reassuring squeeze, “I hate to bring up hockey, but the idea of getting drafted and playing for the NHL is something I’ve always dreamed about. But I agree, sometimes I miss just being able to play with my brothers on the ice or streets without a care in the world. No pressure from anyone, just having fun and being a kid.”

Her face softened as he spoke, “Who would’ve thought that the hotshot hockey player could also miss being a kid,” She lightly giggled, “But for something stupid that I’ve never told anyone, I once had a hickey on my neck and I couldn’t get rid of it. So I told everyone for a week straight that I burned myself with a hair curler… even though I wore my hair natural the entire time. Though, now I think of it, I don’t think anyone believed me.”

Jack let out a loud laugh, his eyes having small creases at the edges. It warmed her entire body as he held eye contact the entire time they were together,

“You little rebel.”

“What can I say?” She giggled with a shrug, “We should probably head back, it’s sort of getting late.”

A small frown tugged at his lips, “Yeah, I guess so. Don’t want to keep Cole waiting, he’s one of the most inpatient guys I’ve ever met.”

The two slowly started walking towards the house, their shoulders lightly bumping against one another. Each time they did, they would look at each other with amusement evident in their eyes. The cool summer breeze brushed against them, making Y/N shiver with only wearing a tank top and shorts.

“Are you cold?” He questioned, slowly peeling off his Team USA hoodie that he wore the entire evening — leaving him in a plain black t-shirt and athletic shorts, “Here, wear this.”

Y/N glanced at him and his sweater, waiting to see if he was going to retract the item of clothing. He seemed insistent, eventually placing it in her hands,

“Are you sure?” Y/N looked up at his face, “It’s a special hoodie, I don’t want to take it from you.”

“I don’t mind, besides I have plenty of others at home.” He grinned, “If you’re that concerned, you can give it back when we get inside but seriously just put it on, you’re shivering.”

With that, Y/N slid on the navy Team USA hoodie, sighing in relief at the warmth from Jack wearing it the whole time alongside the softness of the material and the mixture between laundry detergent and his cologne. She adjusted it on her before looking back at him and raising her arms slightly, “How do I look?”

“You look… absolutely perfect.” He breathed out, his ears and apples of his cheeks turning a light shade of pink, “It looks so much better on you.”

Jack took a mental photo of the sight of Y/N, who stood shorter than him, wearing his hoodie. It was oversized on her, the ends of the sleeves running over the length of her hands. He knew that she was pretty, but in that moment, he didn’t think that she could be any more beautiful. The dim light from the lamppost shining over her, shining her features and the fact that she was wearing his hoodie. His last name on the back with his jersey number. Jack’s entire life revolved around hockey, all he thought about was hockey but in this exact situation where he stood in front of her — holding her precious eye contact. He thought, maybe there is a future that isn’t just hockey. Maybe the future that waits for him wouldn’t be as intimidating if he had Y/N at his side. Maybe this was what he was made for, to be here with this amazing girl, giving him the cutest and sweetest smile.

“Jack?” She repeated, causing him to snap out of his trance, “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m good!” He sputtered, trying to push the flood of thoughts out of his head, “Come on, pretty girl.”

Jack offered her his hand which she shyly accepted, their fingers intertwined. He briefly looked at their hands, and how they fit perfectly in one another, “Nothing has ever felt this right before” He thought to himself before giving her a gentle squeeze which she returned back.

When they returned to the backyard of the party, they saw everyone standing or dancing near the fire. Trevor and Cole were actively animating a story out loud, over-exaggerating their actions — causing those listening to laugh in response. They were the lives of the party.

Jack and Y/N stood side by side, his arm loosely over her shoulders and they watched the two boys reenact the amusing memory. Jack on occasion chiming in with a comment or two to egg on his friends and their ridiculous but entertaining banter.

The party started to die down slowly, people filtering out with their friends and finding their rides home. Jack stood by Cole and Trevor whilst Y/N was assisting Shane and Lindsay by picking up the leftover trash that was scattered around the yard.

“So, Y/N eh Rowdy?” Cole teased, wiggling his eyebrows at the brunette, “I see her wearing your hoodie.”

Jack rolled his eyes and chuckled, “Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”

“She’s pretty awesome, I’ve known her for years,” Trevor told him, “One of my oldest friends I would say. Bluey’s always been there for me and had my back, she’s quiet but so unbelievably loyal and way too nice for her own good.”

“Bluey?” Jack asked, with a raised look.

“Yeah, we all call her that because she always is wearing something blue and Linds says she only ever wears some sort of blue nail polish.” Trevor explained to his friends, “Just don’t hurt her, Hughes, if you’re planning on doing anything with her. I love you brother, but she’s a day one.”

“All your friends are great, Z,” Cole added, tapping his can against Trevor’s, “It would be great to hang around them more often.”

“Yeah, love ‘em all. Some of them like Dyl and Kayden, I’ve had a rocky history with but we all go to school together, so not much I can do about that.” Trevor shrugged, “There’s a few that I’m ready to leave behind once we graduate.”

“What time should we head out?” Jack questioned, while typing into his phone, “I can get Q to come get us.”

“I’m cool with whenever, Rowdy.” Cole said back to him, “Z, are you coming with?”

“Yeah, yeah I will. I just told Bluey that I would drop her home.”

“We can drop her off when Q gets here.” Jack told Trevor, “He won’t mind, don’t worry.”

“Yo, Blues!” Trevor shouted over to the girl, she looked up at the direction of her nickname and straightened her stance, “Yeah, Trev?”

He waved her over which she quickly tied up the filled trash bag and jogged over to her friend,

“What’s up?” She asked as she wiped the palms of her hands against her denim shorts.

“His brother is coming to get us and he can drop you at home if you’d like.” Trevor replied, motioning over to Jack, who glanced up from the illuminated screen of his phone.

“Are you sure?” Y/N said to Jack, “I hate to be out of the way.”

“It’s not an issue, don’t sweat it,” Jack reassured her, “My older brother, Quinn, already said it’s fine.” He added while showing her his text conversation between himself and his brother.

“Okay, thank you. I appreciate it a ton.” She grinned.

Quinn’s car eventually pulled up on the driveway, Y/N giving Shane a quick side hug as a goodbye. Trevor called shot gun as they approached the vehicle, cackling as he climbed into the seat and greeting the eldest Hughes brother,

“Q, this is Y/N! She’s a friend of mine.” Trevor quickly introduced him to her as she squeezed into the middle seat between Jack and Cole.

“Hey, Y/N! I’m Quinn, Jack’s older brother.” Quinn smiled back at the girl, who gave him a shy wave,

“Nice to meet you! Thank you for the drive, I really appreciate it.”

“What if Bluey comes to our place?” Cole asked, looking over to Jack, “If Ms. Ellen doesn’t mind of course.” As Cole and the rest of the Hughes family were renting a home for the week following their training camp, to allow the boys to hang out together outside of just practice.

“Mom would be fine with it,” Quinn chimed in, “If anything, she’d be grateful that there’s another girl in the house.”

The rest of the living resulted in the three boys and Y/N whispering and letting out quiet giggles while lounging in the living room after Quinn bid them goodnight. The group of four bonded together, the boys’ group of three now expanding to be a group of four. Trevor and her passed out on one couch together while Jack took the other, leaving Cole knocked out on the carpet.

Y/N was included more with group hang outs and activities — due to not only Jack and Cole appreciating her presence but also because of Trevor wanting to slowly pull away from their high school friends. Which he had deemed to be more toxic than he anticipated and was getting tired of dealing with unnecessary bullshit. Since him and Y/N were friends first and the two being significantly closer with each other in comparison to their other friends, he decided to pull her more towards his hockey friends.

Trevor watched his best friend open up more and more around Cole and Jack over the following months, which he was beyond thrilled about. His favourite people growing closer together, why would he ever complain. For their last spring break of high school, the Hughes family was kind enough to invite the three over to spend their time off together. He laughed from the opposite side of the kitchen counter as Cole chased Y/N with a spoonful of wet pancake mix. While she was screaming for Trevor’s help,

“Cole! Get away from me!” She squealed, tucking herself into Trevor to avoid the boy.

“Oh c’mon, Blues! I thought you loved me!” Cole pouted, jokingly, trying to pull her away from Trevor, “Don’t run away!”

“Actually, Bluesy, maybe you should try a new hair colour?” Trevor smiled sweetly, petting the top of her hair and twirling a strand of it around his finger, “I honestly think this colour that Cole is so graciously chosen would be absolutely stunning on you!”

“Trevor!” Y/N cried out as she ducked from Cole and running straight into a solid wall. She collapsed on impact, letting out an audible ‘oof!’ when she landed. She looked up to see Jack, who was seriously trying to hold in his laughter, standing over her.

“Falling for me already?” He smirked, “I thought you would have at least made it a bit more secretive, pretty. Hey Cole, I think our girl here needs a helping hand, don’t you think?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at his comment before scrambling when she saw Cole approaching her. A mischievous glint in his eyes as he proudly held up the weapon, “Sorry, Prince Charming isn’t saving you from your fate!”

“Yeah, definitely not…” She sighed, “But Luke will!” Y/N beamed as the youngest Hughes walked into the kitchen, clearly confused at the commotion.

“What?” He said, lowering his phone while Y/N hid behind him.

“Lukey, they’re all plotting against me!” She told him, pointing at the three boys, “Please!”

He laughed at the way Trevor, Cole, and Jack all stood in the kitchen. Luke looked down to see the terror in her eyes. Even though he loved some chaos, he also didn’t want Y/N to hate him for sabotaging her. So, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to his room.

The two giggling like crazy as they ran to the safety of his room. Luke immediately shutting the door and twisting the lock, “I think you’re safe now.”

“My saviour!” She exclaimed, “You have no idea what they were putting me through. Trevor and Jack both sold me to Cole! I thought they would’ve had my back.” Y/N joked as she made herself comfortable in Luke’s bedroom. It wasn’t the first time she was in his room, the two of them often hanging out when the other boys got too rowdy and loud. Often watching TV shows together or scrolling through TikTok while quiet country music played in the background.

“Yeah, can’t ever trust those three” He teased, “I’m glad to be your saviour then.”

Luke flopped onto his unmade bed, reaching over to his nightstand to retrieve the remote, “Wanna continue The Office?”

She grinned, “What kind of question is that?”

He was quick to pull up their current show while the two made themselves comfortable on his bed. Their upper backs against the cushioned headboard. They watched in a comfortable silence as they typically did, before being interrupted by loud knocking against the door.

“Oi Rusty! Open up! Promise we’re done with the whole batter thing,” They could hear Trevor shout from the other side, the handle of the door shaking as he tried opening the locked door, “Hey! Why is this shit locked? I swear to god, Lukey! Your pants better be on and you better not be hooking up with Blues, she’s off limits! You know that!”

Luke’s entire face and ears turned a brilliant shade of red as Y/N laughed at Trevor’s panicked voice. She swiftly got off the bed and went to unlock the door, causing Trevor to nearly fall over the second the door swung open.

“I swear to God! Oh-” He looked at Y/N, who stood with her arms crossed, “You are fully clothed.”

“Nice observation, Trev. Can I help you?” She asked with a brow raised, “Or can Luke and I go back to watching our show in peace?”

“Oh, man! I seriously thought that you two were fucking for a minute!” Trevor cackled, “Ouch Blues, the hell?” He winced as she smacked the back of his head.

“That’s for having your stupid head in the gutter, you freak.”

“Hey! The door was locked and y’all were weirdly quiet okay? Not my fault!” He defended, raising his hands up in surrender, “Pancakes are ready by the way.”

“Oh shit, foods ready?” Luke asked, standing up from his bed, “Yeah okay we’re coming.”

The three slowly made their way towards the kitchen where Jack and Cole sat eating their stacks of pancakes and eggs. Both looking up as they entered the room.

“Doors locked ‘n everything to watch TV is crazy work” Trevor scolded, “Why was the door locked?”

“Since when did you become my mother?” Y/N was quick to respond to her best friend, “Plus, you guys were the one threatening to put pancake batter in my hair. It was for defence.”

“His room was locked?” Jack asked, his eyebrows furrowed slightly at their conversation. His expression was unreadable as Y/N turned to look at him.

“Whose room was locked?” Another voice chimed in, Quinn’s, as he walked up behind the three.

“We were literally just watching the Office.” Luke explained, putting food onto his plate, “You guys are making this a bigger deal than it is.”

“Why was it locked though?” Cole added, “And at ten in the morning is crazy! Lukey’s gone crazy!”

“Guys” Luke whined, “Come on!”

“With his brother’s best friend too?” Quinn teased as Luke and Y/N both shot him warning looks, “We’re just joking, we don’t care that much. Don’t stress, Rusty — Guys, leave them alone.”

Quinn, always the mediator in these situations. Y/N gave him a small smile as a silent ‘thank you’ before going to get her plate for breakfast.

“I care!” Trevor commented to Quinn’s words, “I legit told you boys that Bluey is off limits.”

Everyone seemed to dismiss Trevor as they were all focused on eating, thankfully. Y/N sat in between Trevor and Jack at the table, the rest of the boys falling quickly into an easy conversation about hockey and the results of last night’s games.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about?” Jack perked, catching the attention of everyone at the table. Like always, Jack had something magnetizing about him. Whenever he entered or room or spoke, people were always drawn to him.

It’s hard to not be drawn in by Jack, his charismatic personality, sparkling blue eyes, addicting sounds of his laughter, and his picture perfect smile. He could easily win hearts with just a flash of his grin.

“What?” Cole replied, a mouthful of food whilst looking at his friend.

“I think you three should come up to the lake house this summer,” He stated, glancing at the three guests at the Hughes household, “You guys get along with everyone in the family and I think it’ll be one hell of a time.”

“That’s actually not a terrible idea,” Quinn said as he placed his fork down and shows a look of thoughtfulness, “They’re practically always here and it could make the summer really fun.”

Luke nodded as his eldest brother spoke, “Yeah, and we definitely have the space too at the house.”

“Hey, I ain’t ever the one to turn down a trip.” Trevor laughed, “Plus more time to spend with Huggy and Rusty? Can’t complain!”

“I mean, I’m down if you guys are down,” Cole added, lifting his hands up as if he was saying ‘this was your idea, not mine’.

“What do you think, Bluesy?” Quinn asked as he turned his head slightly to look at the girl,

“If your parents are okay with it, then I don’t mind.” She said with a smile, “I just don’t want us to be a burden for your family or disrupt any family time.”

Ellen and Jim were more than happy to have Cole, Trevor, and Y/N stay with them at the lake house for the summer. Claiming that it would be nice for them to spend time together before the boys were to be drafted to the NHL — and spending quality time together may become significantly more limited. Including the fact that Y/N committed to UMich for her bachelors. Although the boys could get loud and competitive, they raised three boys themselves and found it rather normal to hear constant banter. All the kids got along very well and were very much capable of keeping each other company.

LAKE HOUSEEE

Huggy 🧸

11:23AM | When are you guys coming?

Rustyy

11:25AM | Plz we been waiting alllllll day

Blues 🫐

11:25AM | we’re otw 🕺🕺

Rustyy

11:26AM | YESSS FINALLY

Coleee

11:28AM | ETA says 15 mins

Z 🔥

11:29AM | Yessuh

Huggy 🧸

11:31AM | Who’s driving

Coleee

11:32AM | Z

Blues 🫐

11:32AM | Trev

Rowdy 🤠

11:35AM | Lord tell him to stop texting and driving

11:35AM | That’s illegal

Z 🔥

11:36AM | 👍

Coleee

11:40AM | We karaoke 🎤

11:40AM | Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone

11:41 AM | I’ll be waitinggg all you have to do is run

Blues 🫐

11:41AM | u be the prince and i’ll be the princess

Z 🔥

11:41AM | ITS A LOVE STORY BABY JUS SAY YESSSSSS

Rowdy 🤠

11:42AM | What did I just say🤦‍♂️

Huggy 🧸

11:42AM | You’re all gonna die before getting here

Rustyy

11:44AM | Man wish I could join in😔

Trevor and Cole were basically bouncing out of their seats the second they parked their car on the Hughes’ lake house driveway. Y/N jumped out of the car, taking down her messy bun which she wore the entire drive up. The two guys opened the trunk to unload their suitcases as Luke and Quinn came out the front door.

“Hey!” Quinn shouted, “You guys made it.”

The two brothers jogged towards the car, “Finally!” Luke exclaimed, pulling Y/N into a tight embrace, “How was the drive?”

“It was good, lots of karaoke.” She laughed, returning the hug.

“Except for when she got car sick from reading her kindle.” Cole commented, shaking his head lowly.

Quinn’s lip tugged into a small frown, “That sucks, I’m sorry to hear. Are you feeling better?”

Y/N nodded. Luke went over to Trevor to dap him up and give a one armed hug while Quinn got his turn to hug the girl,

“Here, let me take this.” Quinn told her while pulling her backpack off her shoulder and taking her two suitcases.

“I’m so lucky she didn’t yack in my car dude, she’s done it before when we were like fifteen.” Trevor grimaced at the memory. She shot him a look,

“Oh come on,” She groaned, “I thought you said you would let that go.”

“Let’s get inside, we have lunch ready and put on your swim suits ‘cause we’re hitting the lake right after!” Luke urged, already moving towards the house with a suitcase.

Y/N followed Quinn into the home, taking in the decor and the many windows that brought in the summer sunlight. The walls were decorated with lake-themed signs with cheesey quotes alongside many photos of the Hughes family.

Quinn led her up down one of the hallways on the main floor and used his foot to open the door, “This is the guest room you’ll be staying in.” He explained to her as he dropped off her backpack onto the chair in front of a desk, “You get your own room since you need your own privacy, Trevor and Cole are across the hall. Me, Lukey, and J are upstairs.”

“Thank you,” She offered him a grateful smile.

“Of course.”

He left soon after to let her settle in. She walked around the room to take it all in. There were two large windows that faced the forest that surrounded the home. A queen sized bed with a few decorative pillows and throw blankets. A short hallway with a closet, it led to a private bathroom with a shower, toilet, and a sink along with a large mirror.

Y/N started unpacking her things, hanging up the few sun dresses and hoodies she brought. Placing shorts, t-shirts and swim suits into the dresser alongside her underwear. She left her toiletries and her make up bags on the bathroom counter space.

She put on a baby blue swim set, the top being a triangle bikini and the bottoms being a bit cheeky with ties on the sides. She scanned over her figure in the bathroom mirror, adjusting it to ensure there was no risk of anything slipping out. Y/N quickly touched up her makeup slightly and brushed out the knots in her hair before pulling on an oversized shirt and a pair of denim shorts.

There was a knock on her door, which she answered right away. She opened the door to see Jack standing on the other side with lavender swim trunks, a black t-shirt, and a white backwards baseball cap. His hair was grown out since the last she saw him. He grinned at her,

“Hey pretty,” He said, walking into her room as she pulled the door wider, “Settled in?”

“Yeah, for the most part anyways.” She replied as he turned to face her. The sun shined through the window in her room that made his blue eyes sparkle, her heart beating a bit faster as he looked down at her.

You look heaven sent.

“I missed you,” Jack murmured, his voice significantly softer than before. He took a step closer to her, his hand tucking away a loose strand behind her ear, “You excited for this summer?”

His hand lingered near her face, she prayed that he couldn’t feel the heat radiate off her skin with its close proximity. She could only muster a nod, scared that she would say something that would embarrass her if she were to open her mouth. His hand dropped from the side of her face to graze her upper arm, giving it a little squeeze, “Good, I’m excited too.”

“Yeah?” She asked with her tone just above a whisper.

“Yeah.” He smiled, “Come, lunch is ready and I think Trevor is gonna cause Q to have a heart attack if they’re alone for any longer.”

Y/N giggled as Jack pulled her along with him out the bedroom and towards the kitchen. The other four boys were scattered around the area with Luke sitting on the counter, Cole on one of the bar stools with an open can, Quinn leaning against one of the opposing counters, and Trevor looking inside the fridge.

“Fucking finally!” Cole sighed, throwing his arms up, “Took you long enough, Blues.”

“Yeah, what the fuck were you doing? Unpacking or something?” Trevor joked, cracking open a Twisted while using his elbow to close the fridge.

She rolled her eyes playfully, “Yes, actually. Didn’t you?”

“Nope!” Trevor responded, putting an extra emphasis on the ‘p’.

Luke slid over a plate of food for her, it had a salad, a sandwich, and a handful of fruit, “Lunch for you.”

“Thanks Rusty” She beamed, taking the plate from him and sitting on the barstool next to Cole. He immediately snatched one of the strawberries on her plate and popped it into his mouth.

Jack perched himself up on the kitchen island next to Y/N, scrolling casually on his phone while she ate. Afterwards, they were all quick to run down to the boat, making it a race of who can reach it the fastest. Quinn settled into the drivers seat while Jack and Luke were untying it from the dock.

Trevor took aux and played his country playlist as they drove towards the middle of the lake. The group spent hours on the water, the boys taking turns on the wake board, Y/N enjoying the summer heat while reading her book and listening to the sounds of summer. When Quinn eventually stopped the boat and lowered the anchor so they could swim. Y/N laughed as Trevor shoved Cole into the water, Cole letting out a high pitched scream as he fell. She got up from her seat and peeled off her shirt and threw it towards the front of the boat.

Trevor whistled at her as she shimmied off her shorts, “Looking good, Blue!”

“Oh shut up” She said while putting her sunglasses on top of her kindle.

Quinn, Cole and Luke were already in the water when Trevor flipped off the edge of the boat, smacking his lower back against the surface of the lake. Y/N stood at the top of the boat when she heard from behind her,

“Hold your breath!”

In seconds, she heard Jack’s running feet and felt his muscular arms wrap around her waist as she let out a scream as they contacted the water.

“Jack!” She exclaimed, the second she swam up to the surface, “I was gonna jump in!”

He popped up right next to her, shaking some of the water from his hair. Jack gave her a cheeky grin, “Yeah, but that was more fun.”

“At least he didn’t shove you in!” Cole chirped, swimming towards them, “Blue is definitely your colour, Bluesy”

She could only laugh, feeling immense levels of happiness in the moment. They all swam in the water for a while until their limbs started to get tired. Eventually, they started to return back up onto the boat. Trevor settling down next to Y/N with a loose arm around the back of her seat. She tucked her legs near her chest and laid her head on his shoulder as she typically did and closed her eyes.

“You falling asleep on me?” Trevor questioned in a hushed voice, she hummed, “Alright, sleep well then.”

The rest of the summer looked like this. Quieter mornings with her and Quinn reading out on the porch with a cup of coffee. Everyone on the boat, singing their hearts out to songs and swimming until they got tired. Evenings were bonfires and sharing memories. Their nights either in the basement shooting pool or everyone curled up on the couches and watching a movie together.

It was the perfect routine. Y/N found herself getting even closer with the group of boys she considered her best friends. The lake house feeling like home. She spent her time with Quinn, bonding over their recent reads alongside deeper conversations when they found themselves up late at night in the kitchen. Cole showing her new country songs to add to her playlist and telling her all about the new girl that he had been talking to. Her and Luke being the s’mores connoisseurs and mastering the craft of building the perfect s’more. They also spent the rainy afternoons together, catching up while watching their current TV show together. Her and Trevor were as close as ever, often spending time together in her bathroom as she got ready and he sat on the empty counter space in the smaller room and listening to her while giving her advice — and the other way around, especially when Trevor found out the girl he was seeing before the summer started, was seeing someone new.

Y/N and Jack, though, spent most of their time together. Whether it be making breakfast for the group together and dancing to Zach Bryan or Luke Combs in the kitchen while everyone else was asleep. His hand twirling her around before pulling her into his chest to sway her back and forth to the song. Jack soon took Trevor’s unclaimed seat next to her on the boat, becoming her new pillow when she took her quick nap and basking in the sun. They would be partners for every game, for pool, for pong, for any board game.

At the ungodly hours of the night, when the stars were out, the two would lay on the dock. Y/N pointing out the different constellations to him and explaining the stories behind each. Jack would try to stay focused on the shining stars in the black skies but he would find himself more interested in her as she spoke about them. The way her eyes beamed as she told him different stories, or the way her nose would scrunch for a moment when she realized she made a minor mistake in the tale of the stars. How effortless she made it to be so perfect in those moments.

When it would get too cold, the breeze biting at their skins, they would move indoors and to her room as it was the closest. They would lay on her bed, facing each other and learning more about each other. Stories of their childhoods, or different stories between their friendships with Trevor. Embarrassing moments in their lives, or even their wildest dreams.

At the end of summer, as everyone packed their things into their suitcases. Jack knew Y/N like the back of his hand. He could read her like an open book at all times. Her fingers drumming quietly against the table when she loses focus on the conversation, or how she would crack her knuckles when she started to get nervous. If she found something actually funny, the way she would throw her head backwards as she laughed and covered her mouth. Which comments he would make that would make her cheeks turn into a light shade of pink and her eyes darting away from his to avoid eye contact.

Jack hugged her tightly after he put her luggage into the trunk of Trevor’s car, “Text me whenever you want, okay? I’m never too busy for you.” He whispered into her ear, “Whenever you need me.”

“Same goes to you,” She mumbled back, “Good luck with the combine and with the draft, hotshot.”

They pulled away, her eyes slightly glassy as his hands ran up and down her shoulders, “I’ll see you soon.” He told her, “Promise.”

“Alright, lovebirds!” Trevor announced, clapping his hands together loudly, “We gotta hit the roads!”

Y/N quickly bid her goodbyes to Quinn and Luke, telling them to stay in touch and how she would miss them. She hugged Ellen and Jim, thanking them for letting her stay for the summer and how much she appreciated it.

Cole, Trevor, and Y/N soon got into the car and waved from the windows as they pulled away and drove down the road.

Jack sighed, his shoulders dropping as he watched the car disappear. Quinn placed a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, “It’s alright, we had an amazing summer with them.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know…” He replied, “I just got really close to Y/N this summer and I don’t know when I’ll see her next.”

“She’s Z’s best friend,” Luke added, “You’ll definitely see her soon.”

Jack’s rookie year came and went, he complained about the lows but celebrated with her on the highs. She would tell him about the drama happening in her circle at UMich. Jack being invested with the business of people he never even met. They would often call each other at the end of their days as they unwinded for bed, catching up on the events that took place. Although Jack felt on multiple occasions that he was drowning or was under-performing in his first year in the NHL, it would give him some peace to know that he would be on the phone with her that night. She would listen to all his problems and his frustrations, and she would reassure him on all these occasions that he was deserving of his position, he was doing his best, and that she was proud of him.

The phone calls with Jack were her escape from the stressors of college. It distracted her from overthinking about her grades or the dilemmas within her social life. But she also found herself, growing more and more fond of Jack. The soft spot in her heart for the blue eyed brunette growing bigger each time she picked up the phone. Every Snapchat that he would send her, she would spend a bit longer admiring. The way a tuff of hair fell perfectly in front of his face that made her pulse race. His smile or his eyes in every photo, being the exact same as she remembered from the summer when she would look at him as she rested on his shoulder.

She found herself lying on her bed in her dorm, late at night, reminiscing about their time together at the lake house. The way his hands fit perfectly in hers and he pulled her towards the boat or how he would spin her around in the kitchen as they danced together. It kept her up at night, wondering if he felt the same way.

And he did.

What she didn’t know was the second that she left the lake house that summer, he changed the lockscreen of his phone to a picture that his mom took of the group during one of their movie nights. Though the sounds of it is friendly, when anyone inspects the picture closer, they would see how Y/N was perfectly tucked into Jack’s side in the corner of the couch. He had an arm around her that kept her close, she was snuggled into him while wearing his USA hockey hoodie. Her head on his chest with a bright smile, his favourite smile, painted across her face. Everyone else in the picture is sprawled out and grinning at the camera, but he was staring down at her when the photo was taken. “You look so cute right now.”

He missed having her only a few rooms away or the way her hair would smell as he held her close. He missed the way her laugh would light up the room, making everyone else smile more or join in on the laughter. The way she would use her drink as a makeshift microphone when she would sing her heart out on the boat.

When he spoke about her to a few of his teammates, they managed to drill in the idea of long distance relationships often not working out. They mentioned how lucky they were that their wives, fiancés, and girlfriends were willing to move with them when they came to the Devils. Others mentioning how they had to break up with past girlfriends over the distance since it was difficult for them to stay on the same page considering how demanding it was to be a professional athlete. Jesper asked Jack about if he were to pursue Y/N, if it could possibly affect their friendships with his brothers or with Cole and Trevor. All in which, Jack never really thought too much about.

“She deserves someone who can be there for her. And not across state lines.”

The idea of Y/N transferring schools to be closer to Jack was basically zero to nothing, he knew how much she loved UMich and her friends there. He could never ask of her to leave it behind. On the contrary, he also knows from past conversations he’s had with Y/N, how they both think that their love languages are physical affection. She even mentioning that she couldn’t ever handle long distance relationships often because of the lack of physical presence.

Jack also wanted the ability to see his hypothetical girlfriend whenever he wanted, most importantly at the end of the day so he could hug and cuddle her before they fell asleep. He would want to have her around at all times, to come to his games and to get coffees together in the morning. He wanted all of that, but it wouldn’t be possible when she’s in Michigan and he’s in New Jersey.

In addition to the hundreds of miles between the two, he knew how deeply she appreciated her friendships with Quinn and Luke. She held her friendships with his brothers very close to her heart. She cherished them as much as she cherished her friendship with Jack. Her childhood best friend was Trevor, who also happened to be one of Jack’s best friends. With that, she was also close with Cole — especially after spending a whole summer with him.

Jack thought to himself how messy things could get if he and Y/N were to get involved. Would Trevor allow it? Or would Trevor push them away and how much it would hurt her to see her best friend leave. It would be so much worse if it didn’t work out for him and Y/N. Trevor and Cole would have to pick sides, Luke and Quinn would very likely take Jack’s side since they’re his brothers but would they resent him? Y/N would lose all of them in some way and did Jack want to be the reason for that?

He wasn’t too sure if he wanted to take this risk anymore. As much as his heart longed to be with her, remembering the way she looked when he first laid eyes on her at the house party ages ago. Did he want to put her friendships with everyone important in her life on the line for it? For the sake of himself?

Jack’s mind would spiral over the multiple possibilities and honestly, he didn’t even know if she liked him as much as he did. He dwelled on the idea but eventually deciding on shoving his feelings away and putting a lock on them. He would let her make the moves and decide, almost refusing to allow himself to act on any emotion he had towards her.

They are just friends.

It’ll be easier this way.

Summer quickly came around, and the lake house was back in full swing. Luke used her lap as a pillow as she explained the story that Jack already heard to the rest of the guys on the boat of when her and her friends experienced their first college homecoming weekend. He loved the way her eyes would sparkle and how her hands moved around as she animated the story, almost similar to how Trevor acted when he retold stories to his friends.

“I was so drunk when I woke up, I literally could not tell if I just blinked or if I was wildly hungover!” She laughed, “It was so bad, I was searching the house for water and even our brita was filled with tequila.”

Quinn grimaced at her story, “That must’ve been a brutal cup of water.”

“No, like I chugged it… Thinking it will help sober me up,” Y/N explained, “I passed out drunk on my bathroom floor like ten minutes later!”

Everyone laughed and Trevor shook his head, “Still can’t handle your alcohol?” He teased his best friend.

“As if you can chug a whole glass of tequila and still function afterwards?” She scoffed jokingly, “I don’t even remember that weekend, I only know what happened from the photos and videos my friends and I took.”

She noticed how Jack didn’t look her in the eye the whole day. “Did I do something?” How brief their hug was when she first got there, unlike how she was expecting it to be after not seeing each other for nearly a year. She had envisioned that he would embrace her tightly and express how happy he was that she was there — but she supposed that she may have been too imaginative for that scenario.

Later that night, Y/N was leaning her forearms against the rail of the balcony and admiring the moon light reflecting off the water. Everyone had retreated to their rooms about a half hour ago. She was wide awake, her head too busy running over the different times throughout the day where Jack seemed off. Was she too optimistic that he would behave the same way that he had the summer prior? Maybe she had her hopes too high and expecting him to be as excited to see her as she was to see him.

She heard the door slide open and closed behind her, another presence joining beside her,

“Can’t sleep?”

Y/N looked over to see Quinn standing next to her, also looking out to the lake, “Yeah,” She responded, “Lake is pretty right now too.”

He hummed, “Something on your mind?”

She could only shrug, “Sort of, but I think I’m just overthinking over nothing.”

Quinn looked at her, seeing the way her eyebrows her knit together and how she played with one of the rings she always wore,

“I’m sure it’s not just nothing,” He assured her, “Wanna talk about it?”

“It’s stupid.”

He sighed, “If it’s causing you to lose sleep, then I doubt it’s stupid, right?”

She turned to lean her back against the rail, looking down at her hands, “I guess today just wasn’t what I was expecting it to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I mean, Jack and I basically talked every day all year, I guess I just expected him to be more excited about seeing me,” Y/N explained to the eldest Hughes brother, “He didn’t even look at me.”

Quinn sighed, adjusting his stance to mirror hers and crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m sure he didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I know he cares about you, maybe there’s just something else going on in his life right now.”

She pursed her lips, “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Listen,” He said, giving her a gentle smile, “Jack wouldn’t purposely make people feel uncomfortable especially when it comes to you, Trevor, or Cole. He could be just adjusting back to the slower pace of life after his first year in the NHL, just give him some time and don’t let it bother you.”

Y/N lips twitched upwards, “Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeated, before pulling her into a comforting hug. It was something about Quinn’s big brother persona that brought comfort to Y/N as she explained to him her worries from the day. She was used to sharing them with Jack but with him immediately heading to his room after the fire died down, she didn’t want to bother him.

He could feel the tension diminish from her body when he wrapped his arm around her. Already aware of Jack’s weird behaviour throughout the day, and seeing her face fall for a split second every time she would look over to Jack to see his reaction, only to see him occupied by his phone.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Jack only slightly warmed up towards her. Though he didn’t sit next to her, dance with her, or did any of the same things that they did the summer before. At least he was speaking to her, somewhat. He would chime in on conversations, crack jokes when he felt like it, and on occasion asking her to choose on movie nights. It was better than nothing in her eyes.

Trevor could tell that something was bothering Y/N, so he kept her more company than he typically would and also asked of Cole to do the same. Cole would sit on the empty desk, reading out his text conversation with his current summer fling, while Trevor sat on the edge of the bed listening intently to his friend and Y/N laying on her stomach next to her best friend.

Trevor reclaimed his spot of being Y/N’s partner in games as they always were when they were growing up, leaving Jack and Cole to pair up with little to no argument. He had also fully embraced his former position as her best friend, allowing her to lean on him on boat rides or on the couch as they watched the TV.

The two boys did a great job of keeping her distracted from whatever it was that was on her mind. Trevor fully aware of not needing to ask her since she wasn’t the type to keep her emotions bottled up; when she was ready, she would tell him. Though he often played the more clueless friend role, he grew up with her and knew that it was Jack’s more absent presence that was constantly on her mind. She told Trevor about how often the two would speak to each other and how happy she was that they maintained a close friendship throughout the school year. But with Jack avoiding her, he wouldn’t force her to speak out on it until she was ready.

Luke and Quinn also did their best to fill in for the gap Jack made. Quinn often spending his evenings sitting next to her at the fire and the two sharing their different yet similar experiences with college. He saw her as the little sister he never had and wanted to protect her from being hurt, even if the cause was his own brother. Luke on the other hand, helped with keeping this light and fun. He would dance with her in the kitchen or whenever things would get a bit too quiet, he would pull her away to his room to watch their show. Luke would give her a similar safe space that Jack used to provide in the summer. They would talk a lot about everything yet also absolutely nothing.

Jack watched as she seemed fine with the distance he had created between them. His heart would twist at the sight of Quinn and her sitting together on the porch at night, when he would fill up his water bottle. At the way Trevor and her seemed so comfortable cuddled up on the couch, he would force himself to stare at the screen even though he wasn’t paying attention to the movie playing.

He didn’t like it. Not at all.

Which brought him, a month into summer, standing outside her door with his hand hovering as he contemplated his next move. He sighed and knocked on the door, Jack could hear her soft, “Come in.” from the other side.

He carefully twisted open the door to see the room dimly lit, with the two lamps on and a candle on the desk burning. She was snuggled up under the blankets with her kindle in her hands, “Hi,” He greeted gently, as he closed the door behind him.

“Hey,” She said back, her voice laced with a bit of surprise. She expected maybe Luke, Quinn, or even Trevor to be the one at her door late into the night, but Jack? He was the last person she expected.

“Sorry, it’s late,” He told her as he approached the bed, she adjusted her position to sit up a bit higher, “Can I sit?”

“Yeah, of course,” Y/N motioned to the bed where he sat at the foot of it, “Everything okay?”

Jack’s gaze was on his hands, trying to figure out what he was going to say. The conversation he planned in his head before coming to her room, flying out of his brain, “Uh, yeah… Actually no.”

Her eyebrows furrowed at his words before he continued, “I just- Um, fuck well, I-“ Jack paused, wincing in slight embarrassment over his stumbled words, “I guess what I’m trying to say here is that I’m sorry.”

“…You’re sorry?” She repeated, and he slowly nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” He confirmed, finally taking a breath and looking at her, “I’ve been a dick towards you since you got here and it’s not fair to you.”

She listened intently, her eyes locked on his.

“I just, I’ve been avoiding you because fuck, I don’t know how to say this.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he looked up at the ceiling.

“Hey it’s okay,” She reassured, “Just take your time.”

“I guess I caught feelings for you last summer and I’ve been trying to get over my feelings towards you, which has been so much harder when you’re here with me than when I’m in Jersey and you’re in school,” Jack said, his hand running through his hair, “If I acted the same way as I did last summer, I wouldn’t be able to get over these feelings and I don’t want to fuck up our friendship or something.”

Y/N held her breath unconsciously as he spoke, trying to nod along and keep up with his words.

“And it’s nothing to do with you, I swear. It’s just we both have too much on the line, you know?” He looked up at her, but her expression was hard to read, “We’re both so busy and like I said, you’re in Michigan while I’m in Jersey for most of the year… I don’t want to hurt you or anything.”

“Y- yeah,” She finally breathed out the air she was holding, “I get that.”

“But, I did hurt you with how I’ve been acting lately,” Jack sighed, “And I’m sorry for that.”

“I just wished you talked to me about it before you did it,” She expressed, twisting the ring on her finger, “But I guess I can understand why you did it.”

“I just think it’s better if we stay friends,” He said, his voice just barely above a whisper, painful to say it out loud than when it was floating in his head, “I think I just need like, space or something like that.”

When Jack looked up from his lap, she could see the small line of tears that brimmed his eyes. Her eyes glassed over at the sight, “Yeah, for now it probably would be best if we do that… But, um,”

He leaned the smallest bit forward, almost impossible to notice if it weren’t for the slight shift of weight on the mattress.

“Maybe after I finish school?” She proposed, her voice also sounding delicate as the question danced on a fine line, “If we still feel this way, maybe we can try then?”

He swallowed hard, the dryness of his throat pushing down the knot that was building throughout the course of their conversation, “Yeah, I would like that… a lot actually.”

They gave each other sad smiles, before she motioned him to come closer. He moved up on the bed to be next to her when she wrapped her arms around her neck, his instinctively going around her waist. Jack buried his face in the crook of her neck, “I’m sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” She whispered into his hair, “I understand.”

“It’s not fair,” He mumbled, placing a feather-like kiss on her temple, “I wish I could be stronger and more willing to do distance.”

Her hand brushed through the hair at the base of his head, “It’s not your fault, and it’s not my fault.” She reassured him, “It’s not fair but we didn’t do each other wrong. It’s just not the right time for us now.”

He reached to intertwine their fingers together, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, “Still friends?”

She gave him a teary smile, “Still friends.”

They say like that for a while, taking in the comfort of the silence and each other’s presence as they both absorbed the truth of their conversation. It was painful to hear but also necessary to avoid hurting the other person more. Y/N felt her heart sink into her chest when he spoke but she was also aware of the importance it was for the two to communicate their emotions. Rather than to continue going on with how they were acting for the first half of their summer.

She knew that Jack knew her well, Jack knew about her feelings towards long distance relationships long before this conversation. She also knew that they both didn’t want to jeopardize the other’s friendships with their friends.

It gave her hope however, to think that they could still have a chance after she finished school, yet that was so far away and so many other possibilities could intercept during this time. They could very much be in different positions by the time she finished college. Different circumstances, different relationships, who knows.

Jack’s head was in a whirlwind of emotions, somewhat relieved to get his feelings off his chest. But with a punch of regret when he saw her glossy eyes as he spoke, made him want to take back everything he said. He didn’t know why this hurt like a break up, even though his past actual break ups didn’t squeeze his heart the same way that this conversation did.

They basked in the silence for a few moments longer before Jack rose from the bed, bidding his goodnight before leaving her room quietly. Once she heard his sock clad feet padding up the stairs, she reached over to her phone to text Trevor.

Blues 🫐

11:47PM | trev r u awake rn?

11:47PM | pls be awake

Z 🔥

11:50PM | Ya I’m up wsp?

Blues 🫐

11:50PM | can u come to my room :(

Z 🔥

11:50PM | But I’m comfy asf in bed rn

Blues 🫐

11:51PM | please?

Z 🔥

11:51PM | Ok

Within seconds, her door creaked open. Trevor rubbing his eyes as he shut the door behind in and walked towards her. He looked up at Y/N while slipping his phone into the pocket of his athletic shorts.

“You good?” He yawned, settling into the empty space next to her. He perched himself on his elbow, resting his head on his hand as he faced his friend.

She rolled onto her side and looked at him, her bottom lip quivered as she bit the inside of it between her teeth. The tiredness from his eyes washed away the second he looked at her. Y/N shook her head slightly as more tears threatened to spill,

“Oh, come here,” Trevor told her, opening his arms up and engulfing her with a hug, “It’s okay, Bluey.”

“Nothing even happened,” She explained between breaths as tears fell from her eyes, “I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

Trevor rocked her slowly, running fingers through her hair to comfort her, “It’s ‘cause you’re still sad and you’re allowed you cry.”

“We agreed to stay friends,” She sniffled, “And he said he’s been trying to get over his feelings.”

“What an asshole,” Trevor said under his breath, “You’re okay, you don’t need him.”

“I’m mad because I don’t know why I’m crying and am so upset over this.” She groaned, pulling away from his chest and flopping onto her back.

“Maybe because you’re a little sensitive,” Trevor mumbled in a lightheartedly manner, “You’ve always been a lil sensitive, nothing’s wrong with that.”

“We weren’t even dating!” She huffed as she turned her head to look at Trevor. He frowned slightly as another tear fell from her eyes,

“You liked him, that’s not your fault,” He said, wiping a tear off her face, “It didn’t work out which is also not your fault. Sometimes things like this just happen, but doesn’t mean that something better isn’t coming your way.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” He smiled, poking her cheek, “You’re my best friend, something amazing is gonna come to you and you’re gonna forget that all of this happened.”

“Can you stay?” She asked in a hushed tone, her eyelids already drooping from exhaustion.

“Of course,” He responded, crawling underneath the comforter, “Anything to avoid Cole’s sleep talking.”

Y/N let out a soft yet sleepy chuckle, “Love you, Trev.”

“Love you too Bluesy,” He mumbled back, “Always here for ya.”

After that night, things resumed as if that night never happened. There was a silent and unspoken shift in the lake house. Thought only Jack, Y/N, and Trevor knew exactly what had happen that one night. Cole, Luke, and Quinn knew that something changed in the air. It could be the fact that Jack and Y/N gave each other some distance but whenever one wasn't pay attention, the other was often looking at them. Or how Jack silently pouted when Y/N sat next to Luke on boat days or when Cole and her would make cookies together in the afternoons.

When the end of summer came around, goodbyes were said. Suitcases were packed. Jack gave Y/N a small hug, "Sorry again for everything," He said into her ear, "I hope school goes well for you and I'm still here if you need me."

"I know." Was all that she told him but the look in her eyes said everything she couldn't manage to vocalize in the moment. He knew. How her eyes said that she was also sorry and didn't blame him for how summer ruled out, how she was wishing him good luck for the upcoming season, and most importantly, how she is also there for him if he ever needs it.

As usual, the Hughes brothers stood at the top of their driveway of the lake house and watched Trevor's truck pull and way and disappear at. the end of the road.

"Some summer, huh?" Luke sighed, breaking the silence between him and his brothers, "You alright, J?"

He slowly nodded, "Yeah, I think I'll be alright."

"Things will work out," Quinn told his middle brother, bumping into his shoulder lightly, "They always do."

When it neared Christmas break that year, Luke invited Y/N over to spend time together and also quietly hoping that Jack and her would fix whatever they were going through.

Rustyy

1:23PM | Hey! Are we still good for tdy?

Blues 🫐

1:30PM | yk it!

1:31PM | just finished my last exam yesterday

Rustyy

1:32PM | Ayy that’s what I like to hear!!

1:32PM | Hope it went well

Blues 🫐

1:33PM | ya i feel pre good abt it:))

Rustyy

1:33PM | I’ll come pick u up in an hour

He drove over to pick her up from her apartment which was a few minutes away from campus. She approached his car as he rolled down the window with a large smile on his face, “Hey you!” She waved at the curly headed boy while settling into her seat.

“Hey, Blue,” He gave her a one armed hug while pulling away from the curb, “How have you been?”

“You know how school is,” Y/N said, “How’s senior year treating you?”

He shrugged, “Eh, it’s alright.”

They drove to a nearby Chiptole to grab food before heading back to the Hughes home which wasn’t terribly far. The two caught up during their drive, well as much as they could considering they often texted each other during the school semester.

Luke rolled into his driveway, tugging his jacket tighter to brace for the Michigan cold. He led her into the familiar home,

“Hi sweetheart!” Ellen greeted her as she watched the two kick off their shoes and shrug off their winter coats.

“How are you?” Y/N gushed, hugging the woman, “You look great!”

Ellen grinned at the girl, kissing her cheek, “Awh, you’re too too sweet! We’ve been good, happy to have all the boys home and ready for Christmas!”

Y/N chuckled, taking in the various holiday decorations scattered throughout the home. Her heart paused momentarily at Ellen’s words of her sons being back, meaning Jack was home.

“Alright, I’ll let you to go. Let me know if you need anything, hun!”

Luke and Y/N walked to his room, where they settled into their typical positions, “Jack’s home?” She asked while he plugged his phone into its charger.

“Yeah,” He hummed, sitting back down next to her, “I didn’t want to scare you off but yeah he’s back. He won’t bother you though.”

“It’s okay, I was just curious.” She muttered, “So what did you plan for us?”

“Well, I was thinking we could either bake or make this gingerbread home that Mom bought. We could also go to the rink if you’d like?”

“So many good options,” Y/N laughed, “Let’s build that gingerbread house first. At least your Mom can use it for decor.”

“Bold of you to assume that we won’t eat most of it while we make it,” Luke teased, standing up from his bed. Y/N following his steps,

“Bold of me to assume that we could keep it standing.” She challenged which made his eyebrows raise,

“Are you implying that you and I can’t build a standing gingerbread house and decorate it?”

She replied with a click of her tongue, “I don’t know, can we?”

He playfully pushed her out of his door, guiding her back down towards the kitchen, “C’mon, we can definitely make it stand.”

They didn’t.

The two current stood with the packaged frosting over their hands as they attempted to keep each piece of the cookie house to stick together. Y/N used the back of her hand to brush away a loose hair fallen from her pony tail,

“How do people do this?” She groaned, pushing the edge of two walls together while Luke applied, yet again, another line of frosting.

“No wait, this looks promising!” He exclaimed, standing back up from his bent stance, “Just hold it like that!”

“That looks terrible,” Quinn laughed from the doorway, leaning away its frame, “You should just stick to puck, Rusty.”

“Oh shut up, Q! I doubt you could do any better,” Luke shot back, giving a slight grin to his brother.

Quinn pushed himself off the door frame and walked towards the pair, “Here, let me help.” He sighed, settled in the spot next to Luke and taking the plastic bag from his hands, “Lukey, hold that right there, yeah perfect.”

Luke huffed but inevitably listened to the eldest Hughes brother as he guided them through the building process. Jack walked down the hallway to the kitchen, hearing his brothers’ banter and curious of what they were up to. He froze when he saw her sitting there, neck craned back as she laughed at Quinn and Luke arguing.

It was the first time seeing her since the lake house and he wasn’t expecting her to be here, in his kitchen with his two brothers. Her hair was tied up and she wore one of his old hoodies that he had let her borrow ages ago. His heart swelled at the sight, “Always beautiful and always smiling.”

He approached the three, “I hope you’re not trying to build a gingerbread house, ‘cause that looks nothing like one.”

The three sets of eyes all looked at the middle Hughes brother as he sat in the empty seat next to Y/N. Their eyes locked for a second, the same old warm feelings enveloping their chests. Y/N took a sharp breath before looking away and back to the house.

“I’ve never seen you make one before,” Quinn told Jack, “But since you’re here, help Bluey hold the walls together?”

Jack nodded, his hands next to hers as they helped Luke hold it all together. His senses were taken over by the soft scent of her perfume, the same one that she always wore.

“We just have to keep it together for a bit longer to let the frosting harden,” She explained, “Then we can finally start decorating!”

Quinn chuckled, opening the plastic bag of gum drops and eating a few, “All you guys, I’m enjoying this.”

“Give me some,” Luke complained, watching Quinn eat the candy in front of him.

A few minutes passed before the three of them held their breaths as they carefully withdrew their hands from the gingerbread house. Cheers being thrown around as it stayed stable without their support. They started decorating their house, placing rainbow colour candy on the roof and edges. Y/N at some point connecting to a speaker to let her holiday playlist hum quietly in the background.

It wasn’t perfect, definitely had its own take, with Jack sticking on the little gingerbread man onto the roof, claiming ‘he’s stargazing’.

Luke and Quinn were settled on the couches in the living room, debating on which film to watch. She was washing the mess of sugar off her hands when Jack came by to lean against the counter space next to her, “I wasn’t expecting you to be here today.” He said softly, while she wiped her hands on the red towel.

“Luke invited me a few days ago,” She replied, looking up from the towel to meet his eyes, “I didn’t know you would be home, otherwise I would’ve told you I was coming.”

“How did your finals go?”

“They went well, for the most part I think. I’m just glad that they’re over.” Y/N laughing lightly towards the end, maybe as a way to break the awkwardness between the two, “You played really good the other night.”

His eyebrows raised in response to being surprised by her comment, “Thanks, you watched?”

A faint, nearly unnoticeable, blush painted across her cheeks as she adjusted her hair, “Yeah, I’ve watched all of your games this season so far.”

Jack’s stomach flipped at her shy confession, “No wonder why I’ve been playing so well then, guess you’re my lucky charm.” He grinned, nudging her shoulder while washing his own hands.

She gave a small smile, the edges of her mouth tugging upwards slightly, “Do you maybe wanna talk?”

“Yeah, you sure Lukey won’t be upset that I’m stealing you away from him?”

“He’ll survive.”

Jack motioned with his head for her to follow him to his room, where they would have a bit more privacy away from his two brothers. Luke looked up from his spot on the couch, watching Y/N and Jack walk down the hallway. He smiled to himself, knowing that his plan is working — he just hoped for a positive outcome. She needed Jack and he knew that his brother needed her as well.

Jack shut the door softly, making his way to sit at the foot of his bed. Y/N sat next to him, being somewhat cautious of the space between the two. Her hands laid in her lap, fingers twisting around her rings.

“What did you want to talk about?” He asked her in a kind tone, his torso twisting to face her.

Her eyes glanced up to see him looking at her before darting away to her hands, “I don’t want us to be awkward anymore.”

“You think we’re being awkward?”

“Don’t you?”

He sighed, running his hands through his hair, “I thought we were doing fine.”

“I miss you,” Y/N mumbled, finally making eye contact with Jack, “I miss my best friend, I miss talking to you all the time.”

His lips twitching down for a fraction of a second, “Me too.”

“I know you asked for space to figure things out but I didn’t really expect you to disappear from my life while doing so,” She told him, her voice cracking at the end, “There were so many times where I wanted to call or text you about something that I knew you would find funny. Or about stuff I just wanted to talk to you about.”

“You should’ve”

“I didn’t want to overstep or anything, you know?”

He frowned, “I know what I told you this summer, I think about it a lot more than you probably think. I missed you too. But I am always here for you, pretty.”

Her eyes searched his face for any trace of lies, none to be found. His features only read with honesty from his words, and hope that she would believe him.

She slowly moved her head in agreement, “Okay, and we won’t do whatever that was, again?”

He chuckled softly, “Yeah, let’s never do that again.”

The two were reunited and back to how they were prior to the past summer. They continued to call and text each other whenever they met a moment of freedom, away from their obligations. Jack avoided thinking about how he used to feel around the girl, shoving those feelings so far down and putting a lock on them. The last thing he wanted was the urge to see her anything more than a friend - if he did, he was putting their rekindled friendship at risk again. He reminded himself the look on her face and the twinge in her voice whenever they discussed being more than friends, and he never wanted to go through that again. Besides, neither can get hurt if they can just ignore the magnetic pull.

Rowdy 🤠

3:12PM | Did u see the TikTok I sent u

Blues 🫐

3:27PM | ...yes

3:27PM | why would u send me that

Rowdy 🤠

3:32PM | Cuz its hella funny 🤣

Blues 🫐

3:35PM | its rlly not

3:35PM | idt the average person finds that dude funny

Rowdy 🤠

3:40PM | U hurt me ☹️

Jack rolled his eyes playfully as he sent the text before placing his phone down. He contemplated the actual question he was meaning to send her, almost nervous for her response despite the chances of Y/N turning him down was little to none.

Rowdy 🤠

3:45PM | Are u coming to the lake house this summer?

Blues 🫐

3:47PM | as long as i'm still invited

3:48PM | when r u guys planning on going?

Rowdy 🤠

3:49PM | Wdym as long as ur still invited??? Ofc u are. It wouldn't be the same without u!

3:49PM | We probs going in like 2 weeks ish? Have to check w Cole and Z when they're free

Blues 🫐

3:51PM | ok

3:51PM | i can probs go but idk how long i can acc stay since i have an internship set up for this summer :/

Rowdy 🤠

3:53PM | CONGRATS!! Thats huge! Atta girl 🙌

Blues 🫐

3:53PM | haha thank youuu

Rowdy 🤠

3:53PM | But yes, absolutely still come! We all want u there

A smile drew upon Y/N's face as she read the text messages coming into her phone from Jack. She pulled up her Apple calendar to glance at her schedule, seeing that her internship wasn't planned to start until a bit later into the summer due to the person she was working under being away for their own summer break.

She drove by herself to the lake house, arriving a few hours after the boys because of some traffic she hit on the highway. Y/N stepped out of the car, going to retrieve her suitcase from the trunk when she was scooped into strong arms,

"Bluesy!" The voice exclaimed, pulling her into a hug, "You took forever to get here!"

"Hi Lukey!" She laughed as she looked up to see the head full of curls in front of her, "Crazy traffic on my way here, sorry about that."

"Pfft, I was only joking. Do you need help with anything?" He asked, letting her go. She rolled her suitcase in his direction,

"Just this," Y/N grinned as he dramatically sighed,

"You just use me for my big muscles, I swear."

"Do not... Maybe." She teased back as they walked towards the entrance.

"Hope you're prepared to be attacked by the rest of the boys," He warned her with a playfully glint in his eyes, "Jack and Z have been moping while waiting for you."

"Oh, I am ready."

Luke shrugged before swinging open the front door, "Special guest is here!" He called out, seconds later a series of loud footsteps clambered against the hard wood floors.

"My bestie!" Trevor shouted, quickly approaching her and pulling her into an embrace, "Look at you, Blues! You get hotter every time I see you!"

"Stop it," She whined, smacking his shoulder while he squeezed her tighter, "You look good too, Trev."

Y/N hugged Cole and Quinn after, talking to them briefly when it was their turns. Both of them not failing to compliment her on the glow that she radiated.

Jack walked over to her back as she talked with Quinn. His arms wrapping around her middle with ease, "Hi pretty," He said into her ear, "It's so good to see you."

She extended her neck back to rest on his shoulder, looking at his face, "He's so gorgeous in this light."

"Hi J" She smiled softly at the brunette, "It feels good to be back, even if it's only for two weeks."

He sighed, "Wish you could stay longer, but you got your big girl job waiting for you."

"Yeah, we heard about that," Cole commented, causing her to pull away from Jack to face the rest, "Congrats, Blue! That's really sick."

"Thanks guys." She flushed slightly at the attention from everyone, placing her hand over her heart, "We will have so much fun while I'm here, gotta make this break worth it."

"Of course, we will." Quinn reassured her, walking towards the living room and the other five trailing behind him.

And they definitely did make the most out of her two weeks. Long days on the boat, soaking in the bright Michigan summer sun on the water. Drinking their Truly's and Bud Lights around the fire and enjoying the fact of everyone being together yet again. Jack and Y/N stayed glued to each other's sides, absorbing the most of the other's presence before she had to leave for her internship. They stayed up late together on the back porch, slowly sipping their drinks while telling their stories of the time they spent away from each other. He would hold her close when she got cold, her frame melting into his like two pieces of a puzzle. Jack would sway their bodies side to side when they danced together to country music on the boat, singing the lyrics to her which made her break into a fit of laughter.

Y/N splashed the cold water flowing from her sink onto her face, trying to snap out of the haze she was living through, yet again. Every time Jack was near her, she felt her heart pick up its pace, her stomach doing somersaults in her gut, the tingles that were left on her skin when he grazed her. The way chills would run up her spine whenever he would lean down to whisper something into her ear, away from everyone else hearing his words. His teasing and playful tone of voice directed towards her, causing her body to increase in temperature by a smidge - not enough for anyone else to notice except for her.

She knew the repercussions of her feelings towards the Devils player, she suffered through them before and she did not want to go through that sort of heartbreak again. Not when they were finally back to normal.

Her hands brought the soft white towel to her face, patting off the cold droplets on her skin. She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, knowing that she was about to leave and head back into the reality of life. Out of her realm of freedom that existed in the lake house.

"You all pack?" Trevor poking his head into her bathroom, startled the girl.

"Holy shit," She gasped, clutching the towel to her chest, "You scared the fuck out of me."

He barked out a laugh, "Sorry, Bluey. You okay?"

Y/N looked away from him, "Erm, no yeah, I'm fine."

"C'mon, don't do that," Trevor groaned, stepping into her bathroom and leaning his back against the counter top, "You know you can't lie to me, I've known you for too long for you to get away with that bullshit."

Her shoulders sank as he spoke, knowing that he was right, "It's just me having stupid emotions... again."

He frowned, "I see."

"Just forget it, I'm leaving today anyways." She sighed, hanging her towel on its designated hook.

"Are you going to tell him?"

Y/N's eyes widened, "Are you crazy?"

"No, I'm Trevor..." He mumbled, mischief in his expression, "I'm joking, sorry, 'm only trying to make you smile."

Her gaze softened, "I know, but you know that I can't. Not after everything we went through, it's not worth it."

"Says who?"

"Says me, dumbass," She told him, walking past him and into her room to collect her phone from its charger, "It's stupid, they'll go away eventually. He doesn't want to do long distance anyways, plus its been like year since the talk. There's no chance he'd suddenly change his mind now."

Trevor shrugged, following her around the room, "You never know, B. I see how he looks at you and the way he talks about you."

"You don't know what you're talking about." She huffed, shoving the leftover items scattered across the room into her bags.

"Sure," He replied with ease, "I don't know what I'm talking about when I tell you that he was whining 'bout you leaving today in my room last night, but yeah, I don't know what I'm saying."

"Stop," She said, a bit harsher than she expected her tone to be as she whipped around to face her best friend, "Just... Stop, please. I can't get my hopes up again and I can't do this whole stupid thing again." Y/N told him, her voice gentler this time while waving her hands around.

Trevor slowly nodded, giving her an understanding look, "Okay, I just don't like seeing you like this."

"I'll be fine."

"Just call me when you get home, yeah?"

She nodded, "Yeah, I will."

Y/N shared her goodbyes to the rest of the boys before driving off. She twisted the volume dial in her car to maximum as she blasted her music, hoping that it will help her drown out her thoughts while she drove.

She distanced herself from the rest of the group for a while after leaving the lake house, using the excuse of her internship swallowing up the majority of her time. When in reality, she was avoiding them to run away from her feelings towards the middle Hughes brother.

Meanwhile, at the lake house, Jack's shoulders were slumped as he scrolled through his phone on the boat. Not even paying attention to the videos he was 'watching'. Cole sat next to his friend, noticing his strange and withdrawn behaviour since the girl left last week.

"You good?" Cole asked, nudging his shoulder with his own, "You've been quiet."

"Yeah, 'm fine." Jack muttered, not bothering to look at Cole.

"The boys and I are planning on having some girls over tonight, we met them at the store earlier this week." Cole explained to him, "They're our age and they're super chill, you should hang out with us."

"Sure," The brunette shrugged, "Whatever you say."

Cole frowned at Jack's attitude, but deciding to not press him any further, "Okay."

There were four girls who came over to the Hughes lake house. The group of nine lounging around the chairs that surrounded the bon fire. Most of the guys talking to a girl with the exception of Luke, who had invited a few of his buddies and them keeping mostly to themselves for the night. A little blonde, named Olivia, sitting next to Jack throughout the night.

He didn't mind too much, Olivia was pretty. She had bright eyes and an effortless smile when she talked to him. Maybe it was from the alcohol he had been drinking the whole day, but the flirts being tossed between him and Olivia came with ease.

Every compliment she gave him, he was able to give her one back. Causing the blonde to smile and flutter her lashes to him.

Maybe it was from the multiple beers that Jack managed to kill at the fire that brought him to where he was now. His chest pressed up against hers, sandwiching her between Jack and the wall of his bedroom. They shared desperate kisses, her hands pulling at his hair, making him let out a low groan. They drunkly stumbled towards his bed, articles of clothing being tossed to random corners of his room as they moved. Jack threw Olivia without effort onto his bed, crawling up to meet her into another heated make out. He pulled the covers over their bare bodies, hiding away from the world from his next moves. Hiding away from what would possibly be his biggest mistake that would come and haunt him.

Luke bid his friends goodbye, late into the night as they drove back to the city. He closed the front door before roaming the somewhat empty lake house. Trevor and Cole still outside with the girls they had invited, Quinn on the contrary went to bed. The exhaustion of the long day spent on the water getting to him.

The youngest Hughes brother walked around the kitchen, throwing out the empty cans that were left behind. After making the space somewhat decent, he sat at one of the bar stools and scrolled through his Twitter feed while eating a slice of leftover pizza.

"Have you seen Olivia?" A girl asked him after stepping into the space. Luke looked up from his phone, seeing that she was speaking to him,

"Uh, no?" Luke said to the unknown girl, although it came out more like a question, "But then again, I didn't catch all your names." He chuckled.

The girl gave a small laugh, "I'm Ashley. My friend Olivia, she's blonde and I think she came in here with Jack. We're planning on leaving and she isn't replying to her texts."

His eyebrows shot up, "Jack?"

"Mhm," Ashley hummed, "They were flirting and shit all night before they left us at the fire. I don't know if she's spending the night but I kinda need to know if we're leaving her here or not, y'know?"

Luke slowly nodded, trying his hardest to stay up to speed with everything Ashley was telling him. Although he was still focused on the fact that Jack, his brother who was hopelessly in love with his friend Y/N, was supposedly with another girl at this moment.

"Um, yeah. I can go ask, just wait here." He told her before dropping his half-eaten pizza on its plate. Luke pushed off his seat and began walking towards the second floor of the house. He approached Jack's room, halting in his movements when he heard the muffled moans and sounds of sex coming from the room.

His ears turned red, quickly walking away and heading back to where he left Ashley, "Uh, I think it's safe to say that your friend is probably spending the night." He mumbled out, still slightly embarrassed at what he heard.

Ashley thanked Luke and left through the back door to retrieve her friends. Luke stood somewhat frozen in his spot, his hands reaching into his pocket to shakily pull out his phone. His thumb hovered over her text contact, debating whether or not to tell her. He felt conflicted since it was his brother and that the two were not exclusive. But anyone with eyes could tell that Y/N and Jack had undeniable chemistry and feelings towards each other. She was his friend nonetheless, one of his closest friends too. The two got even closer after he committed to UMich for the upcoming school year.

He swallowed harshly as his fingers moved around his screen, silently apologizing to someone for what he was about to do. He couldn't decipher if he was sorry for Jack, somewhat sabotaging him behind his back, or for Y/N, who he knew was going to be heartbroken once she found out. Luke told himself that she deserved to know and he wasn't going to be the type of friend to hide this from her.

Rustyy

11:52PM | Hey are u awake?

Blues 🫐

11:54PM | ya i am

11:54PM | what's up?

Rustyy

11:54PM | Um I have to tell u smt and u might get upset

Blues 🫐

11:55PM | huh?

Rustyy

11:56PM | Jack is hooking up with a girl rn

11:59PM | Blues?

12:02AM | Are u still there?

12:05AM | Are u ok???

Blues 🫐

12:06AM | no i'm here

Rustyy

12:06AM | I'm so sorry

Blues 🫐

12:07AM | its not ur fault

Rustyy

12:07AM | Ik but I still feel awful

Blues 🫐

12:07AM | its his life

12:08AM | he can do wtv he wants

Rustyy

12:08AM | But hes hurting u :(

Blues 🫐

12:09AM | ill be fine

Rustyy

12:09AM | Are u sure?

Blues 🫐

12:09AM | ya

Rustyy

12:10AM | I'm always here for you🫶 If u ever wanna talk about it

Blues 🫐

12:13AM | thanks lukey

Rustyy

12:14AM | For the record, I think Jack is a fucking idiot for hurting you like this. An idiot in general tbh

Luke sighed, placing his phone down and rubbing his jaw with his hand, "Fuck's sake."

"You okay, bud?" Trevor asked, closing the glass door behind Cole as they walked in with their hands full of empty cans.

Cole tossed the cans into the trash, "You seem stressed, you good Lukey?"

"No yeah, I'm good." He lied, checking his phone to see if Y/N had responded yet.

"Then why are you checking your phone for notifs?" Cole chuckled, settling in the bar seat next to the youngest Hughes, "Who are you waiting a response from?"

"Rusty got a girl?" Trevor asked jokingly wiggling his eyebrows, leaning on his forearms from the opposite side of the kitchen counter.

Blues 🫐

12:21AM | ya ik but i let him do it anyways

The screen lit up as her notification appeared. Cole, ever the curious one, looked over to see if he could catch the name, "Y/N?!" He let out, a little too loudly.

Luke shushed him immediately, "Dude, shut the fuck up!"

"You're hooking up with her?" Trevor's voice being more aggressive than before, "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"No, it's not like that!" Luke huffed, his eyes pleading to the two boys, hoping that they would believe him, "I just had to tell her something, but I swear we're not anything like that."

"Yeah right," Trevor scoffed, walking over to the side where Luke sat, "You and her have always been close, I just thought you two were like siblings."

"Trevor, trust me on this," Luke told him, careful with his next words, "We are not like that, at all."

The Ducks player only rolled his eyes, "Okay, then what is it like?"

Luke swallowed hard, seeing that both of Jack's best friends were staring intently at him. It was hard for him to tell her, but exposing his brother's actions to Cole and Trevor, who both cared deeply for Y/N, was another level of difficult.

"Jack is hooking up with that Olivia chick right now," Luke muttered, his voice a little shaky as he spoke, "One of the girls that came over. I heard it 'nd everything, I had to tell Y/N. She deserves to know."

Cole's jaw dropped slightly, his hands swinging up to cover his open mouth, "What the fuck?" He let out, just barely above a whisper, "Are you fucking for real?"

Trevor stepped back, nearly stumbling in his movements, "Are you fucking with us right now?"

Luke shook his head, "I wish I was. One of her friends came in and asked me to check if Olivia was still with Jack, I went upstairs to check and I heard it." He shuddered as the memory flashed in his head, "I wouldn't lie to her."

He handed his phone to Cole, revealing the text conversation between himself and Y/N, as evidence of proof. None of the guys would lie to her about a topic as heavy as this, they all silently knew what she felt for Jack and vice versa.

Trevor stood behind Cole, also reading the messages. His eyes widening as the information sunk in, "Oh, that's fucked up."

"They're not official though, right?" Cole asked the two, his eyebrows knit together.

Luke shook his head, "No, but like, they basically are."

"If he could just grow a pair and tell her," Trevor scoffed, "I know she would never just upright confess to him, but he could. I don't get why he doesn't."

"It's because of the distance, neither one wants to do long distance." Cole explained, "I know that he would ask her out immediately, if it weren't for the fact that she's in Michigan and he's in Jersey."

"He could fly her out every weekend if he wanted to," Trevor argued, "Fucking hell, I've flown her out to Anaheim for a weekend before."

"Should we tell Jack that she knows?" Cole asked to two, "Or do we let him figure that out?"

Luke dragged his hand across his jaw, "No, this is his mess to figure out."

"Agreed." Trevor nodded, "Knowing Bluey, she's gonna push herself away and Jack doesn't deserve to get the easy answer to why."

Cole hummed in agreement, "Yeah, facts. I can't believe he would do this to her, she just left last week and I swear they were cuddling and shit the whole time she was here."

"Yeah, they were." Luke sighed.

"She told me the morning she left that her feelings towards him were coming back." Trevor frowned, thinking out the way her face looked so defeated, "And the night before, Jack told me that he still liked her and his feelings never went away."

"This is so fucked." Cole groaned, Luke mimicking his actions.

Y/N seemed to evaporate from Jack's world. The morning following his drunken hook up with Olivia, he noticed that Y/N hadn't sent him a single TikTok or meme - somewhat unusual for her even though she had claimed that she'd been busy. Cole, Trevor, and Luke filled Quinn in the next day on Jack's activities, Quinn sharing his own disappointment in the middle Hughes brother.

Jack continued to invite the blonde over as a indiscrete way to fill the void the Y/N left behind. Completely oblivious to the other four's feelings towards his summer fling. To Jack, it appeared that the other guys didn't seem to care much. They never said anything against him and Olivia. To Jack, Olivia was nothing like Y/N. She didn't have creative comebacks, she didn't have the same heartwarming laughter, she couldn't point out the different constellations. But to Jack, Olivia was still pretty - a different kind of pretty, and she was fun. They had fun together and she was thrilled to discover that he was a NHL player.

Little by little, Jack found himself thinking less of the girl and directed his attention more towards the blonde. The more focused he was on Olivia, the less his heart hurt thinking about how he and Y/N couldn't be together. He convinced himself that she only saw him as a friend now, and he had to continue to bury his feelings for her.

He knew deep down that this wasn't fair to Olivia, but what she didn't know couldn't hurt her. Olivia was fun and extroverted, similar to him. She liked to party, a lot. Jack didn't mind, the alcohol drowned his feelings towards the girl he was missing.

She didn't seem to miss him though. Y/N disappeared. She went from barely responding to him, hours to maybe days between responses, to none at all. He scoffed at her behaviour, Jack knew that he hadn't done anything to Y/N. Except for the fact that he was hooking up with Olivia practically every day, but Y/N wouldn't know that. How would she? Jack had full faith in Cole, Trevor, Quinn, and Luke that they wouldn't tell her because bro-code and all. Besides, she saw him as a friend so why would she care who he was hooking up with?

Him and Olivia agreed that it was a fun summer fling, he had to return to his normal life and she had to go back to Miami - where she went to school, he learned. She had teased the fact that she might come back the following summer, hinting to press resume on whatever they called their situationship or relationship. He only laughed in response.

When Jack, Quinn, and Luke returned back to their parents' house for a few nights before the two had to fly back for the season, he heard his older brother on the phone when he walked past his room. Jack didn't usually care who Quinn was talking to, but a mention of one's name caught his attention.

He lingered outside the half-closed bedroom, trying to see if he had maybe misheard.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Quinn spoke into the phone, "I'm really sorry again for what you had to go through, Bluesy."

Jack's heart stopped. "Why the hell is she calling Quinn when she's going through something? I'm the person she always talks to."

There was a pause, for what Jack assumed Y/N was now talking.

"Yeah, I know - He's an idiot for doing that to you. You didn't deserve that." another pause. "Mhm, flying out tomorrow morning.... I miss you too.... Yeah, definitely come fly out during your break! I would love to show you around Van."

"What the fuck?" Jack rolled his eyes in frustration, "Not only did she not tell me that she was talking to some dude who's now hurt her, but she wants to visit Quinn? Why doesn't she ever ask to visit me?"

The middle Hughes brother walked away, upset that she wasn't coming to him about her problems anymore. He had thought that she'd been too busy with her internship to update him on her life, but clearly not when she was on the phone with Quinn. "When did she replace me with my own brother?"

Jack laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling with several different emotions flowing through his system. He snapped out of his haze after hearing Luke and Quinn in the hallway, his door was closed so their conversation was muffled.

"Were you on the phone with Blue?" He heard Luke ask. His curiosity got the best of his and he quietly crept to his door, placing his ear against it to listen better.

"Yeah, I just got off a call with her."

"How is she doing? Better I hope."

Jack heard Quinn sigh, and he imagined that Quinn was running his hand through his hair.

"Slightly better, I think. She's still crushed though, I could tell by her voice that she was trying not to cry while talking about him."

"He basically cheated on her. I was sick when I told her."

Jack's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "How did Luke know she was in a relationship? How did I not know? Who is this dude?"

"I bet, I'm glad you told her though. She deserved to know."

"Yeah, I know." Luke told Quinn, "I FaceTimed her the next day and she was a mess. She cried to me for like an hour straight and it killed me that I couldn't be there for her."

"It's okay, she knew you were there in like spirit or something like that." Quinn chuckled, "Come on, let's see if mom needs help with anything."

Jack slowly stepped back from his door, his mind running through his interactions and conversations with Y/N. He searched for any indication or mention that she was seeing someone. Then he wondered if she was seeing this mystery man while doing her internship. He couldn't figure it out, so he decided to hear it from her.

They haven't talked in weeks, but he knew they were still friends. She left the lake house, giving Jack a tight hug and telling him she would call. She'd been busy so maybe now with the school year around the corner, she would be free to text. Well, in Jack's head she was, she had just finished calling Quinn so surely, she could respond to a text message.

Rowdy 🤠

5:35PM | Hey its been a min lol

5:35PM | Hope everything is ok

5:39PM | How was the internship??

5:46PM | U should visit Jersey sometime! I can get you the best tickets to a game 🙃

Jack's leg bounced anxiously as he waited for her to respond, but she never did. "She's just busy. Probably packing for her move." He told himself to soothe the anxious feeling building in his chest.

"Hey," Jack mumbled, walking into the living room where his two brothers were lounging and playing madden on the TV, "Have you guys heard from Y/N?"

Luke and Quinn broke their focus on the screen and glanced at each other. Quinn paused their game, lazily resting the controller on his knee,

"Yeah, I texted her a few days ago. Why?" Quinn asked, clearly lying to Jack's face. He didn't know that Jack had heard their conversations just over an hour ago.

He shrugged, "Just curious, I haven't heard from her in a while and I heard that she was cheated on or something."

For the second time, Quinn and Luke looked at each other. Luke's eyebrows scrunched while Quinn's looked more confused.

"Where'd you hear that?" Luke crossing his arms over his chest, his own controller left on the empty space on the couch.

Jack's eyes darted away from his brothers, "Uh, Cole mentioned it but he said that he didn't know the guy, do you guys know? She never told me." He added, hoping to pry some information from the two.

"Yeah, no idea." Quinn replied, leaning back into the cushions, "You said Trevor told you that?"

"Mhm." Jack hummed out, not even noticing that Quinn brought up their other friend.

Quinn scoffed, finally putting the pieces together that Jack was eavesdropping on their conversation from earlier. He shook his head lowly before resuming the game.

"You don't know the guy?" Luke repeated, Jack nodding as a response, "That is wild." Luke mumbled, exacerbated and copying Quinn's movements of his head.

"What is?" Jack questioned, looking back at his brothers, "Oh come on, bro, you're not gonna tell me?"

Luke rolled his eyes, playing attention to the video game, "If you don't know by now, then I guess you'll never figure it out. She probably doesn't want to tell you."

Jack huffed, "What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?"

He stood for a moment longer before realizing that neither of them were going to tell him who this guy is. Jack grumbled something about Luke saying a cryptic message underneath his breath before leaving the room, going to his room where he left his phone. He was hoping by the time he returned to it that she would've responded.

He never did hear back from her. His mind went elsewhere as he moved back to New Jersey and got swept up by the daily practices and going straight into the busy routine of being an NHL player. He thought about her occasionally.

Jack only got updates on her life through her Instagram and not surprisingly Luke's Instagram and Snapchat. Luke had started his freshmen year at UMich and he fit right in. Y/N seemed to have taken him along with his new friends from the hockey team under her wing and showed them around. Jack saw the numerous stories of Luke with his friends and Y/N there too. He saw when Y/N would post herself and her friends at Luke's games, wearing some of Quinn's old UMich hockey clothes.

Luke appeared in a few of the photos she had posted in a photo dump, the two getting frozen yogurt together, them studying together, and the one that hit him too close to home: Luke and her on the ice together. The photo was the last in the collection of pictures. Y/N was on her back, clearly after falling on her skates, and Luke hunched over laughing at the sight.

A couple weeks later, she posted that she was in Vancouver and posted Quinn with the text 'best tour guide!' over it. Quinn included her in two pictures in his own Instagram post. One with her flexing the Hughes 43 jersey, the second one being a photo of her curled up in a blanket on his couch. Jack discovering that she had stayed in Quinn's apartment during her trip.

The ugly feeling of jealously burned deep in Jack's chest every time he saw her post another photo of her hanging out with Luke on campus. He told himself that he would talk to her when he comes home to Michigan for Christmas, but he didn't get the opportunity to see her. Trevor flew her out to LA to spend her Christmas in the sunny state, and Jack saw the what felt like endless pictures of her and Trevor together at Disneyland and exploring the city.

Rowdy 🤠

2:03PM | How's LA?

2:05PM | Acc fuck that Idc abt LA. Why are you ignoring me? What did I do?

2:10PM | Jesus the least u could do is respond. How immature do u have to be to ignore all my texts??? Yk I didn't do shit to u

Blues 🫐

2:27PM | yo this is trevor

2:27PM | bro just give her the space she needs k? and yk ily dude but dont talk to her like that. tf is wrong w u?

Rowdy 🤠

2:28PM | Mb

Trevor handed her phone back to her, "There, that should shut him up for a bit."

"Thanks, Trev." She smiled at her friend before stuffing her phone into her pocket, "I appreciate it."

The barista placed their iced coffees on the counter, Trevor taking a hold of both of them and giving Y/N her drink. The two walked out of the cafe and onto the boardwalk,

"You know I always got your back." He told her, "I can't believe he hasn't realized that he was the one who caused this shit."

She chuckled for a moment before her shoulders slumped and her gaze dropping, "'Yeah." Y/N murmured.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tugging her smaller frame to his side, "Cheer up, Blues! You're here in sunny LA and you don't deserve an idiot like him. He doesn't get to upset you, especially not when I'm around!"

"You're right." She grinned at his goofy expression, knowing that he was simply trying to get her mind off of things. Just like how Luke was by spending his free time with her and introducing her to his teammates, fully aware that they never shut up therefore not giving her a moment of silence to drop back into thinking about his brother. Just like how Quinn flew her to Vancouver for her mid-semester break to cheer her up.

Jack on the other hand seemed to be in a bad mood since receiving the message from Trevor that was sent through her phone. He wore a scowl and seemed to dish out backhanded insults towards his brothers during his time in Michigan. Luke had found out via FaceTime with Y/N, where Trevor also made an appearance, of what had happened. Luke could only roll his eyes at Jack's behaviour, him and Quinn in disbelief that Jack was yet to put pieces of the puzzle perfectly laid out in front of him together.

Luke sat on her bed, watching her flip through flashcards before her last final. He finished his just days prior, but decided to keep her company as she studied,

"I hate to ask this," Luke said softly, causing her to look up from the cue cards, "But are you planning on coming to the lake house this summer? I know it's a stupid question since you know who is going to be there, but I hope you know that the rest of us do want you there."

She sighed, placing the flashcard into her lap, "I don't know Luke."

He gave her a reassuring look, "I know, I just figured I would ask. Quinn, Cole, Trevor, and I were talking about it and I told them how you've been doing better and everything."

"Yeah, I know," Y/N shifted her position at her desk to face Luke, who was laying on her bed, "I barely even think about him anymore and it's because you and the rest of the guys have been doing such a good job taking my mind off of the whole situation." Referring to both the guys he mentioned alongside Luke's teammates.

"I just don't know how I would handle seeing him in person," She explained to the younger Hughes, "I don't want to mess up everyone's summer too."

"You know you wouldn't, if anything it'll be him ruining our summers." Luke chuckled, "But I get it. I don't want to pressure you or anything."

"I'm sorry." She told him, giving him a sad look.

"Don't be sorry, we just want whatever is best for you, okay?" He said, "Maybe not this summer but I'm sure in a few, you can finally face him. Maybe he'll finally get it through his thick skull that he's the fuck up."

"What do you mean she's not coming this summer?" Jack asked, shutting the fridge with force causing multiple eyes from the kitchen to look up at him, "She always comes to the lake house."

Quinn shrugged from the bar stool, flipping through the pages of his book, "She said she was busy with work this summer."

"That's gotta be some bullshit." Jack huffed, cracking open his second beer of the day.

"You do realize that a lot of people have to work to support their living, right?" Cole commented, still drying the lake water from his hair with a towel.

"Yeah, not everyone is blessed to have an NHL contract under their belt." Luke chuckled, leaning against the glass sliding door.

"But still, she always comes to the lake house," Jack told the guys, "It's not like she has an issue with spending our NHL contract money either." He mumbled the last part, hinting towards her trip to Vancouver and LA that Quinn and Trevor both covered.

"Okay, thats not fair," Trevor groaned, pushing himself off of his spot on top of the counter, "She was on break and she deserves a trip away from Michigan. She lives here both in and out of school."

"Exactly my point!" Jack exclaimed, raising his arm up, "We're here in Michigan at the lake house and she can't come? It's like she's fucking avoiding us."

"Maybe she has good reason for that." Trevor muttered, turning away from Jack.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Jack raised his voice towards the Ducks player. Luke buried his face in his hands, Quinn closed his book, and Cole poking his eyes out from the towel he held. The three fully anticipating what was coming. Jack and Trevor had history of getting hot-headed in certain situations, and it was very evident that this moment was one of them. Both of them were frustrated at the conversation but for different reasons.

Trevor was already irritated that Jack was behaving the way he was over the fact that Y/N wasn't planning on coming to the lake. Jack being oblivious to the underlying reason of this decision, which he should have realized months ago. Trevor loved Jack like a brother, but spending years of showering Y/N with compliments, cuddles, and actions filled with love: the forehead kisses, the hugs from behind, holding her hand in public, letting her wear his clothes to name a few. Then, sleeping with some other girl the moment Y/N leaves the lake house, and continue hooking up with this girl for the remainder of the summer - to take out his frustration on Y/N was where Jack crossed the line in Trevor's head.

Jack was beyond pissed off that Y/N had abruptly cut him out of her life. It seemed as though after everything, the late night conversations, dancing with each other on the boat, cuddled up together in front of bon fires, she was more than okay to drop him. He couldn't understand it. He thought that she would at least return to the lake house this summer. She always came after the initial invite three years ago, but the ignoring to not even letting him know that she couldn't make it because of "work" was what he called a load of bullshit. Jack fully blamed her for how their friendship was now, he put himself in the awkward position a few years ago when he distanced himself from her. She couldn't do the same for him?

"It fucking means that she doesn't have to be here if she doesn't want to be." Trevor spat back, mirroring Jack's intensity.

Jack scoffed, pushing Trevor's shoulders, "You keep saying all this fucking loaded bullshit about her not wanting to talk to me, she needs her space, that she doesn't want to be here. Why can't you just fucking say it to my face what you've been wanting to say?"

Trevor shoved Jack's shoulders back in response, "Maybe if you weren't so fucking blind, you would realize it by now."

"Just fucking tell me! Say it to my fucking face, stop hiding under all these cryptic ass messages." Jack shouted, returning the push with significantly more force than the last. Quinn stood up, prepared to have to break them apart along with Cole, who had placed his towel on the countertop.

"Have you ever thought that you fucking some blonde, days after you were cuddling and whispering in Y/N's ear wouldn't get back to her?" Trevor snapped, venom laced in his words, "She fucking knows you dipshit. She's known since the first night you hooked up with that girl."

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Jack yelled, repeatedly shoving Trevor backwards until he stumbled into the edge of the coffee table in the living room, "You're so full of shit! I bet you two have been fucking around too, no wonder why you wanted her in LA so bad!"

The two collided to the ground after pushing each other around with a bit of too much force. Yelling and shouts being aggressively thrown at one another, insults and curses intertwined in their sentences. Quinn and Cole immediately stepping in to pull the two apart. Cole grabbing Jack and yanking him back towards the kitchen. His hair was disheveled and face red with anger,

"You so full of fucking shit all the motherfucking time!" Jack yelled at Trevor, trying to break away from Cole's firm hold on him. Luke also at Jack's side, a tight grip his shoulder.

"You don't remember fucking that girl all summer?" Trevor spat back, fighting less against Quinn, who kept him in place in the living room.

"C'mon, Trevor. Let's take a break," Quinn told him in a steady voice, "Let's go before you say something you'll regret."

Quinn slightly pushing Trevor towards the hallway that lead to the front door, Trevor still had eyes on Jack, "You can't just lead Y/N on for years, practically treating her like a girlfriend and making her fall for you then you sleeping with the next girl who looks at you! She deserves so much better than a piece of shit like you!"

Jack stopped his struggle against Cole and Luke's hold, his face dropping as it all clicked for him. His face visibly paled. Him and that blonde last summer, he couldn't even remember her name anymore or what she looked like. Jack completely forgot her the second they left the lake house last summer. All the pieces of the puzzle coming together and he felt sick to his stomach.

"Oh my fucking god." Jack breathed out.

Luke and Cole let go of Jack as they watched it sink in for him. He was shaky as he took a step back, his hand flying to his hair.

"She knew?" He whispered out, looking up at Luke and Cole.

Quinn managed to pull Trevor out of the house to cool down on the front porch while leaving Jack with Luke and Cole.

"Yeah, dude." Cole slowly nodded, taking in Jack's distraught appearance, "She knows."

Jack's chest rose and fell faster, fingers continuously rushing through his hair, "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He muttered to himself.

Luke placed a light hand on his brother's shoulder, "Bro, you have to breathe."

Jack tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling the air getting heavier, "How long? Tell me Trevor was lying when he said she's known since the beginning. How long has she known?" He begged his brother.

Luke looked at Jack, seeing his desperate eyes brimmed with tears and his chest heaving, "Jack, you got to breathe."

"I- I can't."

"Hey," Cole told him softly, "Look at me, just copy my breathing okay?"

Cole inhaled and exhaled slowly, using his hands to demonstrate the motion, "Just breathe, Jack."

"I c- can't breathe." Jack stuttered, clamping his eyes closed and rapidly shaking his head.

"Yes, you can." Luke reassured him, "Pay attention to Cole, copy him."

Jack glanced at Cole, who was encouraging Jack to deep breathe. He shakily inhaled and his breath trembled as he exhaled. Luke and Cole nodded, "Yes, exactly. A few more times, Rowdy."

He copied Cole for a few more breaths, his chest no longer rising and falling at a fast pace. Jack's body relaxed as he caught his breath. Cole led Jack back towards the barstools, where Luke handed him a glass of water,

"Drink this, you'll feel better." Luke said to Jack, who glumly hummed a response.

Minutes passed and Jack was back to normal, although his head was cradled in his hands, "Lukey, how long has she known...?" He asked, scared of knowing the answer but he had to find out.

Luke looked at his brother, he swallowed hard, "Since the first night at the bon fire."

Jack inhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut, "How did she find out?"

"I told her." Luke said to him, "I'm sorry but she deserved to know."

He shook his head, "Why didn't you tell me that she knew?"

"It's not his fault, man." Cole sighed, patting his back gently, "You put yourself in that position, we thought that you would figure it out eventually."

"I really fucked up." Jack breathed out, "Oh fuck."

"Yeah maybe," Cole replied, "Do you still have feelings for her?"

"Of course, I do." Jack mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Cole's eyes widened, "Really? After a year of you two not speaking and you being pissed at her?"

Jack scoffed, "Shut up dude, I can't get rid of them. Trust me, I've tried."

"Should I call her?" Jack turned to his younger brother, who he knew grew extremely close to the girl.

Luke shook his head, "Don't. Give her space, you owe that to her."

Months came and went, Luke moving to New Jersey after being drafted to the NHL halfway through college, Y/N finishing her degree around the same time. Luke was the one who broke her the news that Jack finally figured it out. He left out the fact that Trevor was the one who let it slip during a fight. It was around 4 months after that day when Y/N bravely decided to call Jack. She couldn't put a finger on the exact reason why she had to urge to. It could've been the fact that she had finally realized that she no longer had any sort of romantic feelings towards the man. It also could have been the fact that she missed being at the lake house with her closest friends. She was nervous just prior to the call, Luke on FaceTime with her as he was retuning from a meeting and encouraging her to press the button. He promised that Jack was at home and he came to terms with his mistakes, he only wanted to apologize to the girl.

So she called, he picked up almost immediately, a bit shaken up to see her contact photo on his screen. They talked for over an hour, where he apologized profusely for his actions and where she listened and also gave him her piece. After the call, she returned to her own reality of life.

She dated another classmate for a brief time, Jack also finding himself in a handful of short relationships.

All that mattered to both of them was that they could agree to put that year behind them. It seemed that actually talking it out, even if it was just over the phone, worked well. Y/N could hear the pure honesty in Jack's voice when he gave her a whole-hearted apology. He knew that he made a grave mistake that hurt her beyond belief, and his behaviour towards her only amplifying the hurt she felt. But those months and that summer away completely away from him allowed her to find her peace and find herself outside of just Jack Hughes.

She travelled outside of her annual visits to see Quinn, Trevor, and Cole (who was added to the routine soon after her initial trips in her junior year). She was now 23 and about to start her summer. She paced around her room, double checking to see that she had packed everything she needed.

Her phone lit up, an incoming call.

"Hey!"

"Hey Blues, I'm outside. Let's hit the road!"

She laughed, "Okay, coming down now."

Y/N grabbed the handles of her bags and made her way towards the front where she saw the familiar car. A large grin drew upon her face, when he stepped out of the car.

"Look at you!" She exclaimed, hugging him tightly, "New Jersey looks good on you, Lukey!"

He chuckled, "Ugh, I missed you. Missed Michigan in general to be honest. I sometimes wish that I was a UMich student again and do stupid college student things."

She rolled her eyes, "You don't wish that."

"I do!" Luke grinned, "Okay, maybe not the school work stuff but you know what I mean."

"Oh whatever, let's get going!"

"Are you nervous at all?" He asked her as they drove on the high way.

She shrugged, "A bit."

Luke glanced over to her, "It'll be good."

Y/N took a deep breath as Luke stepped out of his car. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for being back to the familiar lake house.

He opened her door with their suitcases at his feet, "You can do this. I believe in you."

"Yeah." She breathed out, slowly moving out of the vehicle.

"Hey, tell you what," He nudged her as they walked towards the door, "If it really sucks, like really fucking sucks, you tell me and I'll drive you home. No questions asked."

"I can't ask you to do that." She chuckled, climbing up the front steps.

They paused at the front door, he looked down at her and his eyes were full of sincerity, "I mean it. I'll drive you back if this whole thing is awful for you."

She swallowed and slowly nodded, "Alright, let's do this."

Luke opened the door, motioning her to enter first as he followed behind her with their luggage. Quinn lifted his head from his spot at the bottom of the stairs, he was anticipating their arrival and wanted to be the first one there.

"Hey," He gave her a small smile, "I'm really glad you decided to come."

"Hi Q," She grinned, hugging the man, "I'm happy to be back."

"You let me know if there's any issue okay? I'll drive you home the second you feel uncomfortable." He whispered into her ear, "I know you guys talked it out but still."

Y/N squeezed him a bit tighter, "You and Lukey are the exact same, I swear. Thank you."

The three walked towards the main area, Trevor had his arm deep into the chip bag when his eyes landed on her, "Blue!' He shouted, mouth somewhat full of food.

Cole snapped his head backwards, "You're here!"

The two bodies collided with hers in a group hug, she laughed at their reactions.

"You guys act like I didn't just see you at my graduation."

"Too long." Trevor complained, ruffling her hair as he pulled away, "You look good, as always."

"Like you say, Z, she gets hotter every time I see her." Cole snickered, very obviously checking her out with his eyes travelling up and down her body.

Trevor smacked the back of his head, "Off limits, you know that."

"And you know that I'm joking!" Cole winced at the contact.

Y/N only giggled at their interactions before walking into her self-proclaimed bedroom. She took it all in. It had been over two years since she last stepped foot into the room. Yet, everything looked the exact same. She started to unload her things into their designated spots.

A light knock was placed against her door, "Come in!" She sang out as she danced to the music playing off her phone.

The figure stepped into her room, cautious of the space it was entering.

"Hey," He gave her a smile.

She looked up from the dresser, "Hi, Jack."

"You made it," He said, slowly entering further into her room, "How was the drive with Rusty?"

"It was good. We caught up on everything." She replied, sitting down on the foot of her bed, "How are you?"

"Good, good," Jack mumbled, "Just wanted to check in and see if you were settling in alright."

Y/N chuckled, "Thanks."

He gave a small nod before turning towards the door. She stood from her bed,

"Hey Jack?"

"Yeah?" He looked over his shoulder to see her, "Perfect as ever." Jack mentally told himself.

"I missed you." She breathed out.

His eyes widened, her words being the last thing he was expecting her to say, "I missed you too. I'm really happy you decided to come this summer."

"Me too."

The sun was beginning to set on the lake, the beautiful hues of pinks and oranges stretching over the sky. The frogs and crickets making their noises in the grass, filling the air. Luke and Trevor were competing in some game at the picnic table outside, Jack and Cole tossing a football between each other while catching up, leaving Quinn and Y/N sitting outside with their kindles in their laps.

"Yo, Bluesy and Hughesy!" Trevor barked towards their direction. The two looking up from their books, "Play some music, would you?"

Quinn rolled his eyes, standing up to retrieve a speaker from the kitchen. He returned and placed it on the grass, "You can connect to it." He told the girl.

She scrolled through her music, trying to find a perfect playlist to play. Fully knowing it would be the same playlist that she always used at the lake house. Morgan Wallen played from the speaker, erupts of cheers from the boys as the song started.

Quinn started building the bon fire with help from Cole. Luke and Trevor claiming to be the ones responsible for getting the drinks and s'mores ingredients. Y/N sat in one of the chairs facing the bon fire, her knees tucked to her chest.

"Feels like home?" Jack asked, settling into the chair beside her. She hummed,

"Exactly."

"I saw your pictures from graduation," He told her, the two facing each other now, "Congratulations. That's really impressive, I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," She smiled sheepishly, in reaction to the attention, "It wasn't easy but I'm glad that I did it."

"I would die to have a brain like yours, I cannot imagine going through college."

Y/N laughed, "And I would die to be a hotshot hockey player that everyone knows."

"This almost reminds me of the first time I met you," Jack said, glancing at the unlit fire, "Do you remember that?"

"Yeah, I do. At that house party right?"

He nodded, "Yeah, and you used that crazy pick up line on me."

Y/N's face heated up at the memory, "Oh boy. What was it again?"

"Something about me looking like I was in love with you?" Jack laughed, looking at her to see if she could recite it.

"A fruit punch Truly for you," Luke sang out which interrupted the two, handing her the red can, "Hope UMich parties haven't ruined this drink for you like it did for Pink Whitney."

"It did not, so thank you!" She grinned as Luke plopped into the seat on the opposite side of her, drinking from his bottle of beer.

Jack eventually moved a few seats over since Trevor complained that he wanted to sit next to the girl. Everyone was a couple drinks in, finally reaching full summer mode and relaxing around the well built fire. The group watched as Y/N and Luke explained to them, once again, how to properly build a s'more to perfection.

"And voila! The perfect s'more!' Y/N giggled, holding up her prized possession, "Here you go, J!"

Jack eyes widened in surprise as he leaned over to take it from her hand, "Why thank you!"

"Me next, Bluey!" Cole exclaimed, raising his hand.

Luke pouted the infamous Hughes pout from his spot, "I'm the one who taught her the craft of the perfect s'more."

"Lukey, you can make mine." Trevor chuckled from his seat., "Blues, want another drink?"

"Yes!" She laughed, reaching for her fourth? Maybe fifth, or sixth drink of the night.

Quinn lowly shook his head, "Maybe your last drink of the night?"

She frowned, "Boo, don't ruin my fun, Huggy Bear."

He raised his hands in surrender, "Okay, I won't tell you want to do."

"Race to shot gun?" Trevor challenged her, "For old times sake?"

He was referring to their old tradition of shot gunning a drink at every party in high school. She gave his a grin, mischief shining in her eyes,

"You are going down, Zegras."

"Oh, I love your enthusiasm, Bluesy! Hate that I'm going to have to ruin that for you." He said, cheekily.

Cole and Luke pulled out their phones to record whilst Quinn wore an unimpressed look on his face, when deep down he was also enjoying their playful banter.

Y/N and Trevor both used their teeth to crack a hole at the bottom end of the can. They stood facing each other, both determined to win the challenge, one in which they haven't took part in since their high school days.

"Go!" Cole shouted out, the two immediately bringing the popped hole to their lips and cracking open the tab. Cole was basically bouncing in excitement, Luke and Jack both grinning impossibly as they watched.

The sound of a can crushing echoed the area.

"Fuck yeah!" Trevor hollered, raising his can in celebration but only to look at Y/N who also held her can up high.

"I won that!" She exclaimed, "Don't even play with me."

"Nah, I easily won."

They turned to face the other four, hoping that they would confirm who won.

"Uh, I think you guys tied." Cole told the two, looking at the video to see them both finish chugging at the same time.

Trevor groaned, "No fucking way."

"You're joking!" Y/N cried out, "I swear I had that one in the bag too."

"Yeah, no," Luke laughed, rewatching his own recording, "You guys finished at the exact same time. That's crazy."

She pouted and stumbled in her step back towards her seat, the alcohol dragging her limbs down. Y/N went to flop into her seat, nearly missing the chair if it weren't for Jack who conveniently stood next to it.

"Alright," He chuckled, arm around her middle, "This girl is going to bed."

"I'ms not drunk," She slurred, attempting to straighten up.

"What did I say," Quinn rolled his eyes playfully, "Do you need help, Rowdy?"

Jack shook his head, "I'm fine, I'm going to put her to bed though."

He tightened his arm around her, carefully walking her towards the house, "Come on, pretty. Work with me here, I can't drag you the whole way."

She giggled in his arms, "I like it when you call me that."

Jack smirked, "Yeah?"

"Mhmm" Her eyes closing with drowsiness.

"I'll call you that more if you can use your feet up these steps." He cooed into her ear.

Y/N groaned, sloppily walking up the steps, "I thought you are a big hockey player, can't even carry me?"

"You can do it." He laughed at her drunken state.

"'m not even that drunk."

"Sure, princess."

Her head snapped up from its low position, "That's a new one!" She exclaimed.

Jack eventually managed to get her to her room, silently thanking the fact that she stayed on the ground floor or else he would have actually needed to carry her up the stairs. Y/N happily flopped onto her bed.

"You want to change into your pyjamas?" He asked her, pointing at her denim shorts, "I'm sure they're comfier than these."

"Mhm"

He searched her drawers before pulling out an oversized UMich hockey t-shirt, which he assumed belonged to Quinn or Luke originally along with loose shorts.

"Here, put these on." Jack told her, handing the clothes.

She took them from his hands, "Don't look!" She said to him, her voice nearing a shout.

"I won't, I won't." He reassured her, turning around to face the opposite wall.

He could hear her shuffling to change into the new clothes, hearing the sounds of her denim shorts contacting the hardwood floors.

"Okay, you can look." She sang out, he laughed as he spun around to see her curled up in a ball.

Jack smiled at her, "Goodnight, pretty."

Y/N sat up, "You're leaving?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I'm gonna go join the boys outside for a bit then head to bed."

"Can you stay?"

Jack paused. He looked at her, "You know I can't."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

"Is it because I'm drunk or is it because of our big fight?" She questioned, her head tilting, "Or is it because we used to have feelings for each other?"

Jack approached the side of her bed, pulling out a Liquid IV from her bedside drawer and putting it into her water bottle, "You're drunk, just make sure you drink this before you sleep."

"I'm not tired yet." She told him as he shook her bottle to mix the powder.

"Yes, you are." He chuckled softly, "Once you lay down, you're gonna pass out."

Y/N laid down for a brief moment and sat immediately back up, her body slightly swaying from being dizzy, "See? I didn't fall asleep."

"Y/N..." He sighed, handing her the bottle.

She took it from his hands and sipped it, "Can you stay until I finish this?"

Jack tilted his head back to look ash the ceiling, before gazing down at her, "Okay, fine."

A bright smile drew upon her face, his favourite. She shuffled to the other side of the bed and patted on the empty space next to her. He cautiously sat down, "So,"

"Do you know how pretty you are?" She asked him abruptly.

Blush rose on his face, tinting his cheeks and ears pink, "What?"

"I think you are so pretty," She told him before taking a drink from her bottle, "Like, the prettiest man I've ever seen."

"You're drunk."

"Drunk or not, I think you're pretty."

He smiled at her, seeing the softness in her features as she snuggled deeper into her bed, "Can we be friends again, Jack?"

"That's up to you." He said to her, voice delicate more than ever.

She hummed, "Yeah, we should be friends again."

"Go to sleep, princess." Jack mumbled, taking the empty bottle from her hands.

"Just sleep here." She whispered to him, seeing that he was already looking at her, "We're friends, you slept here before."

"I don't know, Y/N."

Y/N squinted her eyes at him, "Okay."

He laid on the bed next to her, waiting for her to fall asleep. Moments passed and her chest rose and fell as a consistent pace, light snores leaving her lips. Jack leaned over to pull the blanket over her curled up figure, his fingers carefully brushing the hair out of her face.

"Sweet dreams, pretty." He said softly, before placing a light kiss to her temple. Jack used all his strength to pull away from her bed and made his way to his own room. Despite wanting to comply to her wishes, he knew that he couldn't do that unless she was sober.

He laid in his bed, mentally cursing the lake house for bringing up old feelings for the girl. It seemed as though they never failed to come back whenever they were back at this place. Jack tossed and turned, waiting for sleep to envelop him.

The lake house was back in full swing at its normal environment. Y/N and Quinn spending their mornings cooking while discussing their shared experiences of college along with their thoughts on the book that they were reading together. Luke and her spending spare time hanging out in their rooms together, making up for lost time for when he left Michigan for New Jersey. Cole learning the meaning of different Taylor Swift songs from Y/N, along with the lore of the Folklore triangle. Trevor and her never failing at making fun memories and talking about his new girlfriend.

As for Jack and Y/N, they drew closer together like always. It was the magnetic pull they had between each other. It started off slow, the two having conversations on the boat together to him tackling her into the water for a swim. From sitting across each other at the couches as they drank their morning coffees to Y/N being cuddled into his side during movie nights. To bidding each other goodnight from the hallway, to him laying next to her in bed as they talked about what they imagined their futures to look like late into the night.

Y/N stood outside, dancing around with Luke to the music playing as the sun began to set. The rest throwing the football around and watching in amusement at the two.

"Bluesy, have you listened to the new Ella Langley album?" Luke asked her, pausing to change the music.

She nodded, "Yeah, it's pretty good."

He handed her the phone, "Pick the next song."

Y/N hesitated before selecting track 3 of the album, realizing what Luke was hinting her to do. The evening before, she was in his room explaining how this song was so similar to her first encounter with Jack. She also confessed to Luke how she felt her old feelings towards Jack returning, and the fact they mentioned to try a relationship when she completed school. Luke helped her weigh her pros and cons in the situation and ultimately, told her that he knew that his brother still had strong feelings towards her and she should shoot her shot. He reminded her that even though Jack hurt her in the past, Luke has never seen Jack so broken after realizing his mistakes. Jack was never one to pine after a girl, he only really treated Y/N like the way he did. With care and love, extra cautious of their surroundings when they were out. How Jack still knew her like the back of his hand, how his every move came with ease. How Jack nearly drove the long distance to her door when he came to terms of his mistake a few summers ago and was fully prepared to get down to his knees to apologize, if it weren't for Luke telling him to give the girl distance.

The song started to play loudly from the speaker, Luke twirling her around and making her laugh. Jack stepped away from playing football, somewhat confused at the song. One that he's never heard. He watched her smile and giggle next to his brother before Luke whispered something to her. He ran off into the house as Jack slowly approached her,

"Can I be your temporary dance partner while Lukey is gone?"

She nodded.

"What song is this?"

"A new one," the chorus started, "And I said baby, I think you're going to want to hear this." She dramatically lip sync-ed towards him.

His eyebrow raised and he smirked, taking a hold of her hand.

Y/N turned her head away from him before looking back, "Excuse me, you look like you love me. You look like you want me to come on home."

Jack's mouth opened agape at the lyrics, chills running down his spine as the memory of their first conversation flashed through his mind. He grinned at her as he spun her around, pulling her close so her back met his chest,

"And baby I don't blame you, for looking me up and down across this room," She hummed to the tune, "I'm drunk and I'm ready to leaving, and you look like you love me."

"Did you write this song?" He teased into her ear, she turned around to face him,

"No, but it's a crazy coincidence, right?"

Jack laughed, "Yeah, an insane one."

"Jack," She said softly, "Can we talk?"

He looked at her, "Of course."

She led him down towards the dock, a ways away from the rest so they could speak in private. His hand grazed over her bicep,

"You okay?" He asked her, playing with the sleeve of her t-shirt.

Y/N sighed, preparing herself, "Do you remember our conversation, years ago?"

"Depends," Jack told her, looking into her eyes that always seemed to sparkle, "Which one?"

"I asked if we could try... a relationship after I graduated and if the timing was right." She replied, twisting the ring around her finger.

He nodded, "Yeah, I remember that one. Why?"

She swallowed down the nerves building in her throat, "I told you that if we still had feelings for each other, then maybe it'd be worth a shot. And," She paused,

"And?" Jack repeated.

"And, I don't know if you feel the same, after everything...." She whispered, her eyes staring into his blue ones, "But, I love you Jack. Even after everything, I love you and I don't think I could ever stop."

His eyes softened, "I think I fell in love with you when you told me that crazy pick up line when we were seventeen, Y/N."

Y/N let out the breath that she had been holding, "So I was right?"

"With?"

"When I told you 'excuse me, you look like you love me'" She giggled, "My intuition must be amazing."

He laughed, stepping closer to her so their chests touched. His hand cupped her cheek while the other rested on her waist, "I guess so."

His fingers danced to her chin, tilted her face upwards where their faces were now millimetres apart, "Can I kiss you?"

"Please." She whispered, her eyes fluttered shut when Jack finally closed the gap between their lips. His soft lips meeting hers, molding into each other perfectly.

His hand on her waist squeezed her as her hands trailed up to tug lightly at the hair at the back of his neck. She sighed in pure happiness when they eventually pulled apart,

"You are perfect, beyond perfect." He mumbled against her lips, placing a gentle peck on them after, "I love you, Blue."

"I love you too, Jack."

"God, I can listen to you say that forever." He chuckled, pulling her into a tight embrace.

[galene-gothic]

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES TIP JAR

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

(Mostly explicit messages)

So recently, you’ve been feeling horny all the time. Like, I’m literally getting that you feel horny even after you’ve orgasmed. Your body gets turned on without any external stimuli and you start feeling knots in your thighs, making you crave a release. Maybe for most people, even short orgasms cut it but for you even average length ones don’t seem to do it. If your orgasms are short or average length, you might be too sensitive to masturbate right away but you aren’t satisfied and crave a longer, and more satisfying one. You want your orgasms to be something that you experience for a longer time and ones that you experience with your entire body. Right now, you seem to be learning a lot about your own sexuality. I’m so sorry but I’m not getting any other messages except sexual ones here. Your soul is likely a very sexual one? Another thing is that no matter who you are, your nipples are extremely sensitive. They’re so sensitive that many of you may be scared of touching them yourselves. Even if you do touch them, the mere idea of pressing onto them makes you feel tingly all over but in an uncomfortable manner. However, here’s the interesting thing, you may not know it yet but you would really enjoy nipple play of some sort. It does not have to be something too extravagant, could literally just be the other person sucking your tits while touching you. Many of you might not finger yourself and might simply just rub your clit. Even if you do finger yourself, the clit is very important to you. This is not how I was intending this reading to go, I’m not sure what’s going on because this is supposed to be a soul reading and I was expecting anything but this. However, I’m just rolling with it because sexual pleasure seems to be very important to you 😭. I’m trying to look into something that’s not about sex, masturbation and orgasms but I’m not getting anything yet. I think that unless I finish whatever the spirit and your soul is trying to get through to you, I won’t be able to tap into anything else about your soul. So well, you liked to be talked through it and be taught things. You also want your sexual partner to learn from you and to press your pleasure points. Your clit is very important to you. You likely can’t imagine sex without the clit being involved in some way. Maybe sometimes you’d be fine with it but on most days and nights, you prefer being rubbed and licked down there, devoured actually. You want to see your partner pussy drunk. I’m getting a certain image in my mind, you want your future spouse to be unwilling to move their head from in between your legs even when you tug at their hair, try to pull them away, try to push them away or cry out. You want them to be addicted to eating you out almost, you want them to get lost during it. You also have a thing for seeing their tongue work its magic down there. It might sound gross to some of you and you might not admit it but you find the idea of kisses after oral really hot, and if you don’t, you will find it hot when it’s actually happening. You seem to like the tongue a lot so you might naturally like kissing when doing it. I believe that right now you crave to be able to take more care of yourself physically and sexually. You already are but it’s almost like you’re insatiable.

Some of you might have a roommate, might sleep with your sister or mother, or something like that causing you to not have enough privacy but even so, you manage to find ways to indulge in that pleasure in whatever way you can and whenever you can. However, there’s a desire to experience pleasure in a very grounded manner, more times than you usually do in a day and feel, and indulge in the sensation of being blissed out, and warm in your thighs, feet, genitals and stomach. You may want to have the time, space and privacy to edge for a long time and experience a long orgasm that feels very whole, and spreads throughout the body rather than just stays in the genital area. At your core, you’re someone who wants to learn and teach others, and have a respectful reputation. There’s something about wanting to work with others and naturally being cooperative as long as there’s a shared vision. Your soul is currently craving genuineness, self care and being taken care of. You want to nurture and receive the same nurturing back. You desire stability, security and assets of some sort, possibly land or gold. You’re also desiring a physical glow up and to be grounded enough to remain humble. You want to be someone who doesn’t break character easily and is self assured because you’re grounded rather than having a prideful self assurance that’s more fiery in nature. You want the best of the best for your soul. That’s what your soul craves and for that, you want to become the best of the best too. You’re someone who is more long term oriented and values things like ethics, values, morality, stability and commitment. Which is why despite wanting to be touched and experience orgasms, you settle for ‘self care’ because you don’t want to give your body away to just anyone. You hold yourself to really high regard to do something like that. Your soul craves to be more mature and to progress in life, and career. Also, to be in domestic and secure environments. Your soul wants you to take care of yourself from within. “Working out is not enough if you’re not watching your diet.” Not my words, that’s just what I heard. The vibe that I keep on getting is the queen of ants or bees who is looked after and not only everyone is set on taking care of her but also she’s the first priority. Like, if there’s danger, they move her to the safest spot. That’s what you want except that you’re human and you genuinely desire to nurture too. You’re either already very independent but because you closed off in the past, you’re learning how to be giving and nurturing, I don’t think this part ever left you but you still want to experience it to the fullest or you’re giving and nurturing learning how to be more independent, or you’re all three giving, independent and nurturing but because you know your worth, you’re not willing to give it away to just anyone but you’re able to do so to people who need it but you’re still genuinely fine with being alone and you’re self sufficient too. For example, underprivileged children or old people who are living in this world of capitalism and inflation. The third one is what your soul desires to be like. You want to be independent, nurturing and giving but fine with being by yourself, and in fact, content with being as such. Right now, you’re learning about your sexual nature and desires. Majority of the reading was simply about your sex drive so well, I’ll leave you to take care of yourself. I hope that you liked it. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

You’re someone who can be pretty in friendships and that’s because you mostly feel unwelcome or disconnected from groups of people. Even if they’re welcoming, you don’t feel that connection with them. Even so, you are able to appreciate people for who they are and connections for welcoming you even if you don’t feel that synergy with them. So you have two sides, one side of you is overindulgent in socialising while the other is more of a loner. You’re someone who may start disconnecting from a group overtime. Like when you first meet them, you might really vibe with them because you’ve experienced being left out so you try to include everybody but as time starts passing by, you start leaning into yourself and withdrawing. You seem to have dealt with gossip, falling out with friends, friends affecting you negatively, people misunderstanding you, excluding you or you yourself feeling like an outcast. Also, other people preferring someone else over you. You have dealt with betrayal in friendships and romance, specifically being left for or replaced by someone else. Your soul is desiring travelling and experiencing things that make you feel young, and alive i.e. adventure! For example, stargazing, camping, travelling to different places with different conditions like beaches, mountains, cities, etc. Also, some of you might have a decision to make. You might currently be contemplating leaving something or someone. Your soul knows deep down that you deserve better than this and it’s leaning towards you leaving. For some reason, if you make the decision to leave, it has to be sudden, almost impulsive but something that you don’t look back from. You might have a lot of memories with this situation or person (could be multiple people too), or even if that’s not the case, some level of familiarity is what is stopping you from letting go. You are being told to leave. For some of you, you’ve already left. If this is a person, i’m picking up on them making you feel like an option or choosing someone else over you, or something like that? The vibe that I’m getting here is more platonic than romantic but it could be a friendship that borders on romance i.e. basically someone who sucks you dry by taking all the benefits of a romantic relationship but choosing others over you. Hell, you might not even be treated like an option. There are many different situations coming through here. Some of you may be dealing with friends having turned against you and leaving you out. Some of you may be dealing with mistreatment at school, university or work and might be contemplating leaving. The common theme is that there are two paths here and your soul craves to let go, and seek more, to discover that the grass is greener on the other side. However, some of you have already made this decision, possibly even a long time ago and are craving to progress further.

Your soul craves to experience life in a pure and passionate way, by travelling, achieving your goals and being in environments, and with people who appreciate you, share similar visions and don’t make you feel bad. You have dealt with feeling like you’re not worth committing to, that others always have someone else they prefer over you, being treated as if you don’t have feelings, being treated as not even an option, being treated as an emotional punching bag, being used for your emotional labour, having friends turn against you, getting humiliated and mocked by acquaintances, etc. If you have left and let go already, all of you are different stages. Some of you may still be haunted by the emotions of the past if it’s still fresh, some of you have grown a lot and have found more emotional stability, and understand that it’s good that things are not the same but you still want more growth, passion and experiences in your life. All of you are headed towards growth. If you’re struggling with leaving, I’ve gotta tell you that the grass is in fact greener on the other side. You might have to walk for a bit in order to get to where the grass is green but you need to get there, that’s the only good decision that you can make for yourself in this situation. Currently, you’re learning how to let go of familiar people if they betray or hurt you no matter how long you’ve known them for. Physically for those of you who haven’t left yet and mentally for those of you who have. Many of you have made significant progress in this process of leaving, letting go and doing better. You might think about the past but it’s not something you want to ever go back to and for the most part, you have let go of many emotions that you felt back then because you’ve significantly matured and are craving something different, something more. When you look back, you understand that you deserved better than that so many of you do not even acknowledge them as people you cared about. You seem to have understood that you were taken advantage of and because you deserved, and do deserve better, you have removed yourself from those situations of the past, acting as though they never even happened and you have a resolve to make sure to never repeat history again. It’s not even denial or avoidance, it’s just that you have grown so much that you don’t identify with that version of yourself anymore. If you haven’t left yet, this is what’s awaiting you when you leave. You’re going to become someone who is not willing to and doesn’t feel the need to help everyone, and does not care about familiarity or memories and focuses on what people are doing in the present instead. Also, you’ll not think of the past as something grand when it comes to other people, you’re going to think of it as grand when it comes to you because it will have made you who you are and you’ll be proud of how you used to be too.

You’re not going to be happy about having been used but you’re going to appreciate how innocent you were, how loving you were, your own willingness to do and try until the end. There’s going to be a feeling of you not having lost anything while the other parties lost the best. You’re currently maturing and letting go of the past no matter who you are. Even if you have accepted that you deserved better and have stopped acknowledging your past, it’s something that you think about, and are still letting go of. You’ve forgiven the past especially yourself but you know that you deserved better so you’ll never forgive the people who did what they did and let them have access to you again. There’s something about leaving the home and adulting, it might happen within the next three years at most for many of you. You’ve already started adulting though and it has matured you significantly. You don’t mind weakening connections and even leaving them behind completely because you have experienced really bad things in the past, and have been stuck in the past and nostalgia in the past, and you even tried until the end, seeming desperate so you have outgrown that and know that nothing good is going to come out by trying too hard unless the other person is actively making sure to get somewhere with you as well. You seem to be healing trauma regarding your younger self i.e. childhood, school days, innocent connections like the first loves, etc. You see the past for what it was, the good and the bad, and so you do not idealise it but you do not exactly hate it either, it’s sorta bittersweet, many parts of it but you’re at peace to have grown into who you’ve grown into but you just want something new, fresh, different, familiar but mature. You want to share a close and comfortable connection with people, and share a natural bond that makes them feel familiar to you but you want more than what you’ve experienced, you want something real and won’t engage with them if they repeat patterns of the past for you because you’ve outgrown them. If not, you’re in the process of doing so. You’ve only become more pure over time. Your capacity to love has become more innocent but more mature at the same time so you may not consider things of the past to be ‘love’ as per se. You acknowledge what you’ve given but you don’t identify with your past self who put up with so much bullshit. You desire more and want better for yourself. In the past, you seem to have had lost your sense of fun and adventure due to experiences, and people depleting you. Instead, you were playing small and sticking with them out of familiarity but you’ve gotten your passion and curiosity back, and want to go from there, grow from there. I hope that the reading gave you clarity. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

On the soul level, you’re someone goal oriented who’s supposed to pursue your goals unabashedly and unapologetically even if it means upsetting or hurting others. However, despite this sort of drive and approach to your goals, you are a very soft person. You seem to lack assertiveness and do not even know how to fight back verbally. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t even react. What seems to have happened is, you were very driven and ambitious growing up but somewhere along the way you lost focus, and lost your way. You became directionless and reckless, and developed almost like an inferiority complex. You’ve always low-key had one because you seem to have contradictory traits and two of those traits that contradict each other are inferiority, submissiveness, inability to speak up and lack of assertiveness, and extreme ambition, drive and a sharp ass tongue. It might sound impossible for both these sides to exist within the same person but they do exist within you. Let me put it like this, your soul is more action oriented than a talker. However, some of you fell victim to a ‘talker’ not realising that most people are not action oriented like you? This is not the case for most of you. So, because your soul is action oriented, when you were younger, you were self assured and more focused on getting things done than standing up for yourself, it caused you to have a more submissive side and image but on the inside, you’re the most driven person ever with a lot of aggressiveness and assertiveness, it’s just that it manifests differently. One example that I can give you that I believe all of you are going to relate with is that you can get very annoyed, impulsive, sharp with words or tone and firm when you’re bothered while you’re completing a task or doing your work. You hate distractions and want to be left alone during such times. You lack assertiveness but you’re action oriented and that’s how you assert yourself. You might run your mouth or did so when you were younger and excited, in regard to your vision, ideas, endeavours because you had the end goal in mind but standing up for yourself aggressively through words, that’s not really you. I feel like the main thing with you is that you struggle with aggressiveness and assertiveness with acquaintances, and those who you’re not close to but when you’re comfortable enough with someone or know them well enough, you know exactly what to say in order to hit a nerve. This is what I meant when I called you ‘sharp tongued’ earlier. When you lost your sense of direction and forgot yourself, you had no real purpose so it led to your confidence and self assuredness disappearing, and your inferiority complex getting stronger. When you were still driven, you didn’t really have an inferiority complex in an extreme way but it was more like, you knew that certain people had certain things in life and skills that you didn’t have, and because you weren’t much of a talker in an assertive manner.

It was something that intrigued you plus you were simply just curious about life because you were young. However, because you were doing your best and had a drive, a purpose in life, you didn’t feel as inferior internally but when you got distracted and lost your direction, your energy that was not well directed just ended up feeding into your inferiority complex. Also another thing that I’m getting that not all of you are going to resonate with is that you would be great at handling conflicts with your fists. You’re calm and seem almost submissive on the outside but internally very passionate and driven, and this drive translates to you needing a lot of physical release which means ‘orgasms’ xD. However, if you get back to finding direction and being yourself (many of you already have), you’re going to become self serving and self assured. You’re going to become someone whose actions are pretty unpredictable because you have opposing and contradictory character traits. You have a rude side to you too. It’s very interesting how many different sides you possess. A good trait that you possess is that you separate your ambitions from your personal life. For example, if your friend wants something you too want, you won’t hesitate to go get it and it’s not like you feel hostile towards them, it’s just that you are going after your goals with your own hard work and efficiency. Your soul is desiring one on one connections right now. There’s a craving to find true love, romantically and even platonically. You want to have a friendship in which you are so close that others don’t even stand a chance to come in between. A friendship so fulfilling that romance is not even a need but you’re also craving romance, you want mutual love that is full of respect and joy. You want to have connections in which people have your best interests at heart. You want to be with someone with whom you’re a unit, a team. One in which you mutually respect and even appreciate, and adore each other’s differences. You want connections that are open and honest, and everyone takes part with equal effort. The most important part of what I’m stating is ‘mutuality’, you need this kind of connection to be mutual, that’s what you crave. You value loyalty and think that consideration is the highest form of love, you consider those you love and you want them to understand that your go getter nature is not meant to threaten them. In the past, due to this go getter nature of yours, you may have failed to consider other people or even if you did, they didn’t see past all the times that you didn’t. It seems to be more of an ego thing for them. For example, you both wanted the same position and you got it then you both wanted to be friends with the same person, and you got it and then you both wanted the same guy but out of respect and loyalty, you decided not to engage with him but he grew to like you despite your lack of engagement.

It leads to others misunderstanding and growing aggressive towards you so you want a connection in which you’re understood, and are able to work with the other person’s best interests at heart because I won’t lie, I understand why your actions have been perceived as selfish in the past. You’re just goal motivated and oriented, it’s not malicious intent but just the fact that you go and get what you want. However, another side of you is that despite being this way, you’re extremely considerate in connections i.e. one on one ones in which you trust and feel a sense of loyalty towards the other person. Everyone who sees you as selfish would have done the same thing as you if they got the opportunity to. They were people who you felt like were competitive with you too whether they admitted it or not so you do not need to feel bad. You want to have connections in which you’d consider the other person and they’d consider you. You have a desire for intimacy and depth one on one connections, both romantic and platonic ones. You value quality over quantity. So you’d be fine if you simply had one life long friend and one life long lover, in fact, that’s what you crave, that’s what you want. You may hold connections to be sacred and want to experience divinity in the form of connections. Some of you fell victim in some sort of one on one connection to someone who knew how to talk a really good game and was incredibly manipulative but were a bum action wise at least to you, but you weren’t able to tell at that time because you were so action oriented that you assumed that everyone was. You seem to have either learned or are learning the lesson to recognise those who keep people around for person needs and in order to boost their ego. You are developing silent power or are growing a realisation of the fact that your power is in the way you’re not asserting yourself outwardly but have a steady heart with a strong drive, a controlled mind and are action oriented. You have struggled with overthinking and a hyper active brain, you still might but most of you have learned how to tame it or are doing so right now. You demand and expect respect from others, and are a quiet thinker who does not express all their thoughts or are learning how to be. You seem to have been acquainted with your inner truth and that’s helping you find power in who you truly are. Like, you may be understanding that you don’t have to stand up for yourself verbally if mistreated or disrespected, instead you can just remove yourself from such an environment and focus on your own life, and goals. You think that that’s a power because there are people who will stand up for themselves verbally but will continue staying in that environment, not removing themselves from such cheap people and situations but you’re not like that. You may not react but you know how to respond through follow through actions. I hope that the reading was enjoyable and offered you some sort of direction. Thank you so much for reading, much love and take care.

[godbirdart]

so Canada's federal election just got bumped up to April 28th, 2025, and you all know what that means. it means yall have to see me make another long-winded post about it.

let's recap: WHY THE ELECTION DATE: APRIL 28, 2025?

Typically, Canada's federal election is hosted on the third Monday of October once every four years. The reason Canada is hosting it in April is because Carney, the new Prime Minister, requested a Dissolution of Parliament. This action can be requested at any point by request of the sitting Prime Minister or by the King of Canada, but cannot go forward without the approval of the sitting Governor General. The Governor General serves as the King's representative within Canada, among a variety of other constitutional duties, and thus oversees the procedure.

WHO ARE THE POLITICAL PARTIES?

Canada's parliament is currently [as of March 2025] occupied by five political parties. There are more than just these five, but these ones are considered the main players in Canadian Politics. ◦ New Democratic Party / Policies & Publications ◦ Bloc Québécois / Policies & Publications [French] ◦ Green Party / Policies & Publications ◦ Liberal Party of Canada / Policies & Publications ◦ Conservative Party of Canada / Policies & Publications

HOW DOES ALL THIS WORK?

I've seen a few comments floating around treating former Prime Minister Trudeau's tag-out with replacement Prime Minister Carney like it was a federal election [it was not] and that it was somehow illegal [it was perfectly legal]. Being America's neighbor has even Canadians confused as to how our own election system operates, so here are the cliff notes: ◦ You are eligible to vote in Canada if you are a Canadian citizen, are 18 years or older, and can prove your identity and address. ◦ Eligible voters can still register to vote at the polling station if they forgot to register in advance. ◦ Eligible voters can vote early on specific days, register for mail-in voting, vote at an Elections Canada office, or vote on election day itself before polling stations close in their respective time zone. ◦ Eligible voters can still vote while incarcerated, homeless, live abroad, or are outside of Canada during the election. ◦ Employers are obligated to give employees three hours off from work to vote. ◦ Federal elections do not utilize automatic ballot-counting machines. If someone's going off about ballot-hacking or interference, they likely haven't voted in a Canadian federal election. From casting ballots to counting, Canadian voting is largely analog. All golf pencils and paper. ◦ Canada does not vote to elect the Prime Minister specifically. There are 343 Ridings [Electoral Districts] across Canada. These correspond with the 343 seats in the House of Commons:

Each riding elects a member of Parliament to represent them in the House of Commons. Each member of Parliament is typically affiliated with a political party, but they can be independent. The party that wins the most seats in the House becomes the prevailing government and that party's leader becomes Prime Minister. ◦ This is not a celebrity contest. Election ballots vary from riding to riding and list the names of the candidates running for Parliament within each individual district. Party leader names only appear if they happen to be the representative for your particular riding. Voters can find out their riding's candidates using the Elections Canada website.

While Canadian elections don't have nearly the same sensationalism as the States, these basics should still give you the knowledge to recognize when someone [or a bot] is trying to manufacture social media outrage or otherwise spew some bullshit. So I'm going to close this all off with this:

Elections are not Team Sports

In the social media era, it can be alarmingly easy to get swept up in hype and spectacle. Canada operates on a multi-party system, sure, but you still need to pay attention and read into to the policies and guarantees each party is dangling in front of you. Don't just leave it to election day vibes. You need to think critically about who you want writing the legislation, and that also means equipping yourself with the awareness to vote strategically. If you live in a riding that's detrimentally attached to a party whose policies conflict with human rights and values, you may need to place your vote in the candidate whose party has the best chance to oust them - even if that party isn't the one you'd personally prefer to vote for.

Be critical, don't get swept away, and please spare a thought for Canada's House Hippo. They've been trending increasingly endangered since the 90's, but thanks to conservation efforts in the late 2010's they've a fighting chance to make a comeback.

[cheralith]

— all i breathe in is your life. feat. itoshi sae || wc: 1.1k contains: gn!reader, no pronouns used, secret relationship, just pure fluff :P

sae doesn't really tell people things about himself.

he thinks he doesn't need to—unless it involves soccer, he sees no use in people attempting to pry at his personal self other than to just scratch the surface level of itoshi sae, professional soccer player. all the masses need to know is that he's a midfielder, he's from japan, and itoshi rin is his little brother.

so shock comes as a severe understatement to his team when they find out that he's married after one of them overhears sae telling their coach he can't make to a press conference because he'll be celebrating his wedding anniversary.

sae understandably gets bombarded the moment he enters the locker room to his disdain. many of his teammates have coupled up with celebrities, models, and influencers—per modern athlete fashion—so they provoke him with who this mystery person is.

"none of your business," he snaps, clearly irritated.

some of them think it's a fluke, just his way to get out of dealing with the media, as sae bears no ring on his left ringer and has never been seen wearing it in public (though, arguably, sae is a hard figure to catch outside the field anyways). but all sae has to do is roll his eyes, take out a travel-sized jewelry holder, and put on his wedding ring to flash at them.

"well shit, man," one of his younger teammates, a notoriety amongst the media for being a bit of a playboy, laugh. "how long have you been chained down for?"

the phrase irks him a bit. to view marriage as a prison seems contemptuous to him—no wonder this guy can't hold down a relationship.

sae shuts his locker door, eyes still bored as ever as he makes his way to the exit.

"four years going on five," he mutters, a smidgen of entertainment for them just to shut them up for good. "you're lucky if your career ever lasts as long."

he gawks at him, ready to fire back an insult, but sae's already disappeared through the door. sae makes his way to the lobby of his team's training facility, where he sees you, their assistant manager, sitting patiently at one of the tables nearest to the window.

"ah, sae," you greet with a friendly smile, tablet with his stats on hand. "there you are."

he only gives you a silent nod of acknowledgement in return, sparing nothing for you but an ear to listen as you read off his comments given to them by their coach as you always do with each member. there's nothing much to improve on, seeing as how he's essentially the definition of perfection in regards to soccer, but he still clutches onto the occasional whisper of criticism to help him improve.

he bids you goodbye, reminding you that he won't be at the press conference this evening and to have a nice evening, before he exits out the doors and makes his way to his car. the silence that bestows upon him when he enters it makes him feel at peace... until his phone rings.

an audible groan escapes him; sae swipes at his phone, ready to curse out what was probably his teammate he insulted earlier or his coach, but the annoyance within him disappears the moment he sees a familiar name.

he picks it up carefully, staring straight ahead of him into the lobby of the facility.

a well-known greets him first. "hi there."

"hey," he mutters softly... a hint of affection in his voice.

"so, apparently the restaurant is all booked for tonight," you whisper into the phone, sae watching your lips move in sync from inside the safety of his car. "i got us this other restaurant near roppongi, is that okay?"

sae nods, hoping that you can see it through the lobby. "that's fine. what time should i start leaving the house to meet you there after the conference?"

a sweet, thoughtful hum passes through. "how 'bout 7:00? meet there at 7:30? conference ends at 6:30, but i'll leave a bit early to catch a cab and beat traffic."

disapproval seeps into his sigh. "i still think it's better if i pick you up."

"haha, no way. and risk being caught?" you laugh, giggling when you see sae's scrunched face through the window of the lobby from his car.

"i just don't like the thought of you being in a car alone with a stranger," he says, his tone droll as ever but you've known him long enough to detect that subtle worry in his voice.

"i appreciate the thought, my darling husband," you remark as you gaze upon your five-year-old wedding ring sae gave you. "but we've worked this hard to keep it under wraps. one cab ride won't kill me. it's just so that we don't have to take two cars home."

sae doesn't enjoy the feeling of defeat, but all his ego comes to humble itself whenever you were the one that bestowed it upon him. only the person he stood across the altar from half a decade ago would only be able to do such to itoshi sae.

"fine..." he grumbles, watching as you grin rather stupidly your gain. "send over the address. and don't be late."

"yessir," you give him a childish salute from the lobby, one that he has to fight cracking a smile at, your playfulness never once fading at the slightest from the moment he met you.

though he does admit it's hard trying to keep your relationship behind closed doors, especially since you're a non-celebrity, but it's all worth it when he gets to wake up to your face and kiss it right before he falls into a deep slumber, your body intertwined his with a tenderness being connected with his—a silent murmur of "i love you" to end off another day with you.

just before he ends the call, your voice reaches him once more.

"sae?"

he blinks, removing his hovering finger over the red button to let your words reach him, not wanting to waste any word that comes out of your lips go uncherished.

"yeah?"

you turn to face him directly from where you were in the lobby, only the window of it and the window of the his car being your only barriers between each other. affection spreads upon your features, one that makes sae mimic on his own.

"happy anniversary, my love," you profess tenderly to him. "i love you."

a warmth embeds itself within him when he admires you from his car. five years may not necessarily be the longest of time to some people, but to think that you and him have lasted this long together brings about a peace that he treasures on the daily and will continue to do so forevermore if you're by his side.

his eyes soften, staring at you in pure devotion.

"i love you too," sae confesses. "happy anniversary."

[gr4cier4cie]

♡ when it happened to me (we hug now) ♡ pt3

or: lando's recent interviews haven't been the most... neutral, to say the least, and as your absence weighs heavier on his shoulders, the real question to answer becomes how long he can go on without you. fem!teammate!reader x lando norris (drive to survive au) pt one, pt two

warnings: sorry to everyone telling me to give these two a happy ending already.... i'm a monster i know (take it up w the hormones raging in my body rn lolsies)

♡

[drive to survive season seven, episode one: 'we hug now']

[scene nine: "they already know"]

♡

[scene ten, interview one: "nothing compares to her"]

♡

[scene eleven, interview two: "have her like this again"]

♡

♡

note: THINGS ARE LOOKIN UP FOR THESE TWO MUPPETS!! not really sure where im gonna take it from here (or if i even will im so sorry).... but this format is SO. DAMN. FUN!! this will def not be my last drive to survive au ♡♡ THANK YOU TO EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO READ, INTERACTED, COMMENTED, SENT ME AN ASK, ETC. seriously. seeing it makes me so so so happy because f1 has always been something near and dear to my heart and im so happy i get to share that love. i love you all, forever. XOXO from gracie!!!!!

[starriniqhts]

THESE FIT SO WELL?!

BOYNEXTDOOR AS DIFFERENT ROMANCE TROPES

the different genres of romance between you and boynextdoor

( 対 ) boynextdoor x fem. reader 1247WC · so many different genres contains! skinship, mild swearing, cringe shit, terrible trope names / archive

은: i'm finally back after 589393 lightyears with a new boynextdoor fic ^^ i hope you guys enjoy!! since i'm here, i would like to remind you guys to not believe everything you see on the internet and that quick assumptions and accusations will cause regret in the future. let's always be kind instead of spreading hate ♡

myung jaehyun : playboy

cherry lollipops, smudged lipstick on his collar, lazy smirks, fingers tracing circles on your wrist

jaehyun is used to attention- he's practically bathing in it every single day. girls clamour for his gaze, hanging onto every teasing smirk, every lazy remark that drips with effortless charm. he plays his part well; never giving too much attention, always keeping them wanting more. one week he has a cute cheerleader clinging onto his arm and the next he has the school president walking by his side.

but with you, the game doesn't work.

you roll your eyes at every flirting thing he says, scoff at his cocky smirks, and call him out on his lazy drawl. it should annoy him, but it doesn't. and when he realises he doesn't want to play the game anymore, it hits him hard in the stomach.

the chase isn't about winning. really, it's about you.

one night, he leans in with his familiar grin, expecting you to push him away as usual. but you don't. instead, you meet his eyes, unbothered, and say, "if you're just playing, don't bother."

for the first time, jaehyun's speechless. he knows the truth, he knows that he doesn't want to play anymore, not with you.

park sungho : bodyguard romance

tension filled silence in the car, pulling you behind him without a thought, "stop doing stupid shit"

park sungho doesn't do stupid shit like romance. he's not paid to participate in whatever cliché, sappy things you see on the tv. he's paid to protect, to stay by your side no matter what and make sure you don't wind up stalked, injured or dead.

but you make the job so very difficult. always refusing to listen, constantly putting him into situations that make him heart race for all the wrong reasons.

park sungho doesn't do romance.

"stop doing stupid stuff," sungho mutters for the hundredth time, grabbing your wrist to pull you back from the crowd. you huff, yanking free, but you don't move away. the closeness between you two is suffocating, but neither of you step back.

sungho knows he shouldn't let his guard down, shouldn't let himself feeling anything beyond duty.

it's just a job.

so why is it starting to sound like he's gaslighting himself?

lee sanghyuk : unspoken love

lingering glances in crowded rooms, love letters never sent, late night walks, almost confessions

there are words left unsaid between you an riwoo, filling every silence, every stolen glance. you've been friends forever- so close yet so incredibly far. he memorises how you tuck your hair behind your ear when you're nervous, the way your voice gets softer when you're tired. but he never says anything, never lets those feelings spill past the walls. but still, he wonders if you notice the way his gaze lingers a second too long to be normal, the way his breath catches when you laugh.

maybe you do, maybe you don't.

the words are always at the tip of riwoo's tongue, threatening to spill out, but he manages to swallow them and keep quiet. even now, sitting next to you on the sofa of the dimly lit living room as you watch a movie. riwoo isn't focused on whatever that's playing on the screen. he's focused on you.

riwoo compensates lost words with silent care. his hands finds yours in busy streets, opens the doors for you, remembers your favourite snacks and buys them for you even when you don't ask.

riwoo likes to think that you're just waiting for him to speak first.

he will. one day.

han dongmin : academic rivals to lovers

scribbled insults on margins of papers, stolen glances over textbooks, clicking pens in silence, “admit it, you like me” whispered against your ear

taesan really, really, really wishes that you would just disappear.

he's always been the best- tope of every leaderboard, fastest on track, the one teachers nod approvingly at when the test scores go up. he thrives on competition because, until now, he's never really had any.

then you show up.

scholarship kid, plucked straight out of your public school and into private after you all-hundreds on this year's exams. suddenly, taesan's name isn't the only one at the top of rankings. suddenly, there's someone who walks into class with the same cocky, unshakable confidence, someone who meets his gaze with a smug smirk when grades are posted. you sent in his usual spot in the library, take his record in the physics competition.

taesan hates you. really he does.

but he hates even more that when you lean over his desk to throw a snarky remark at him, his heart races. he hates that he noticed the way your eyes light up when you solve a question before him, or the way his brain short circuits when your shoulder brushes against his in the crowded corridors. he hates how he can't deny how pretty you are.

taesan really, really hates that he might not really hate you at all.

kim donghyun : soulmates

the scent of home every time you’re near, deja vu, nostalgia, a warmth in his chest he can’t explain, blurry memories

leehan doesn't believe in fate. why would he? he believes in reality, in the tangible, in the things he can see and touch. love is just a series of chemical reactions, and the idea of soulmates- of invisible red strings tying two people together- has always seemed like something out of a children's storybook.

but then there's you. you, who appeared in his life out of nowhere. when and where and how, leehan can't really place. it feels like you've been around forever and for no time at all at the same time. you, who see to understand him without words, who always knows when something's wrong before he even says it. leehan catches himself staring at the way your fingers brush against his when you two walk side by side, at the way your laughter sounds like a memory he can't quite place.

"it feels like we've met before," you say once, absentmindedly.

leehan freezes. because he's felt that too, that strange pull in his chest, the whisper of something inevitable. and suddenly, fate doesn't seem so impossible anymore.

"yeah, maybe we have."

kim woonhak : love at first sight

stammered compliments, heart racing, pink cheeks, “can i—uh—i mean, do you wanna—never mind.”

it's over for woonhak from the first time he sees you. from the second he lays his eyes on you, his brain short circuits, he talkers faster than he can think, and he's grinning like an idiot without even realising.

he's hopelessly, embarrassingly obvious about his big, fat crush on you.

everyone sees it. you see it, which is new, since you're pretty oblivious about stuff like this. the way woonhak stumbles over his words when you're around, the way his ears turn red when you tease him.

you think woonhak's cute. woonhak thinks he's done for.

"you're staring again," you point out one day, laughing. woonhak panics, eyes darting everywhere but you.

“wha-what? no, no, i was just, uh, thinking! yeah, thinking,” 

you raise and eyebrow at him, and woonhak buries his face in his hands with a groan, face pink. he’s messed up. again.

“you’re so obvious,” you say, shaking your head at him. 

woonhak just grins, ears burning. yeah, he is obvious. hopelessly, shamelessly so. 

[reidsmanuscript]

Exceptional

Summary: what happens when spencer hears the rumors about your teenage years? what happens when some of those rumors are true?. Pairing: Spencer Reid x lawyer!reader Genre: hurt/comfort and fluff at the end! wc: 5.5k! TW: burning wounds, bullying, misogyny/patriarchal behavior, violent and impulsive behavior. not proofread yet. A/N: in the middle of writting this i realized it's very based on "the archer" and "the man" by Taylor Swift Masterlist! (it's not necessary to read the first 4 chapters!)

　　　　 　　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

If we're talking about anecdotes from your teenage years, well—there’s not much to tell. Just the totally mundane story of an angry, emotionally volatile teenager with too much brainpower who somehow bulldozed her way into Harvard Law. No big deal.

JJ had great stories about high school—being the captain of her football team, those wholesome, small-town moments straight out of a coming-of-age movie. Emily had the wildest stories—traveling the world, the chaos of never staying in one place, and even the ones that made you feel something, like how badly she just wanted to fit in.

It started with the urgent case the BAU was handed—students linked to an elite Harvard secret society were disappearing, their bodies found staged in ritualistic ways. As the case unfolded, Spencer turned to you, his voice a little more cautious than usual.

“Do you know anything about some Seraphic Circle?”

You didn’t need to think. You’d heard plenty about them. Too much, really. "I’ve heard of them," you said, your tone dripping with disdain and rolling your eyes. “Rich kids with too much money and power. Half of them don’t even deserve to be there, but their families pay for their spot.”

You were reluctant towards accepting going with them to Massachusetts, too much memories and teh constant fear someone might recognize you and call you out for past decisions that maybe weren't the best. Maybe they were worse than you wanted to confess and might even scare Spencer away. 

Still, he had asked you to accompany them. “Do you think they will remember you?”

“Nah… i don’t think so, they have tons of law students per year so…” maybe your words were right, but the higher thn usual pitch on your tone gave you away to spencer, that only he was able to detect, of how you weren’t saying all the true

Long story short, that's how you end up where you are right now, walking behind de BAU towards the Dean of Harvard office, with Spencer by your side. 

You reach the office just as Hotch shakes the dean’s hand, introducing each member of the team. “SSA Jareau, SSA Morgan, and Dr. Reid,” he says, gesturing to each of them in turn. “We also brought—”

“Woodvale.”

The dean’s voice cuts through the room the moment his eyes land on you, recognition flickering across his face. Not even a hundred years would be enough to erase your name from his memory. He didn't like you back then. 

An almost cynical, carefully polite smile curves your lips as you extend your hand. “Dean Langford.”

He grips your hand firmly, his expression unreadable. “Seems like you’ve come a long way from that time your burned one of my students”

The atmosphere in the room shifts instantly, tension crackling like a live wire. But you don’t let it show, ignoring how he didn’t consider you a proper student. Instead, your voice remains cool, measured.

“Those accusations were debunked after no evidence was found,” you say smoothly. “Unlike the very real recordings and witness statements I had of that same student saying—” you pause, tilting your head slightly, your smile sharpening, “women became hysterical when it came to sexual crimes.’”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Emily and JJ smirking, while Langford’s expression hardens.

The dean's smile barely falters. So, he does remember you. Not surprising—back then, you were even more impulsive than you are now. And that says a lot. 

　　　　 　　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

Don’t ask how, but somehow Garcia had dug up records that gave the team a list of names tied to the so-called “secret society.” Ironically, when the BAU interviewed students about it, everyone seemed to know what it was—just not anything useful.

“They sacrifice animals.” “A bunch of douchebags with too much money.” “They run everything. If you’re one of them, you’re untouchable.”

“Do any of the names look familiar?” Rossi asked, sliding the list toward you.

You scanned it, then shook your head. “Only the last names. But that’s not surprising—most of them come from old money.”

Garcia had also uncovered some interesting financial records. One name stood out: Andrew Carrington, former lawyer at his family’s prestigious Massachusetts firm. A-class dickhead.

“He’s got buildings in the city,” Garcia said, displaying files on the computer. “But his family’s the real power—deep pockets, old money. There are even a couple of campus buildings with their name on them.”

Rossi raised a brow. “Legacy admission?”

“More like a blank check.” You leaned back. “Everyone knew he bought his way in.”

“Any possibility he’s involved?” Hotch asked.

You considered it for a moment before shaking your head. “I don’t think so. Back then, this club was his pride. These murders? They only drag its prestige through the mud.”

“So… this Seraphic Circle thing,” Emily said, tilting her head. “Were you ever part of it?”

The police station buzzed around you, a low hum of voices and ringing phones, but your focus was on the files in front of you. Spencer sat beside you, skimming through pages with his usual quiet intensity. Neither of you was big on PDA—no hand-holding, no lingering touches in front of the team—but subtlety was an art you both had mastered. Your elbows brushed as you shifted in your seat, his knee resting against yours, the quiet pressure grounding.

“Not really,” you answered finally. “They claimed you had to have a big name in law, but what they really meant was that you had to be rich—and if you were a man? Even better.”

Morgan flipped through a file. “But you do know this Carrington guy.”

Before you could answer, Spencer’s fingers brushed against the side of your knee—a light touch so subtle no one else would notice. A quiet signal. He’d felt your tension the moment Morgan had mentioned Carrington.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Yeah… It was hard not to know someone like him. He’s got that whole ‘king of the school’ vibe, but honestly, he’s not capable of something like this.” You spoke nonchalantly, but your voice betrayed a hint of discomfort.

The team shifted focus to the next lead, moving on to analyze the unsub’s possible personality traits. After a few more exchanges, the decision was made to call Carrington in for questioning tomorrow—there was no use doing it this late. The discussion had settled, but Spencer’s fingers brushed against your knee again, just enough for you to catch it. He was still attuned to your every movement, a silent understanding between the two of you.

After that, Hotch made the call for everyone to get some rest. One by one, the team decided to call it a night, heading out to their respective rooms. You and Spencer lingered behind, both of you wrapping up the last of your thoughts on the case.

Spencer was the one to break the silence. He looked around the station, then at you. His eyes softened for a moment before he spoke. “Enough for tonight. Let’s get some sleep.”

You nodded, thankful for the break. As Spencer found your coat, you dropped the files onto the nearest table. You stood still as he slid the coat onto your shoulders, the fabric brushing against your skin. As he did, you both made the mistake of letting your hands touch—just a fleeting brush—but it sent a warmth through your chest.

The walk to the motel was calm, with the quiet night air wrapping around you both. Spencer felt a strange mixture of calm and anticipation swirling in his chest, emotions he didn’t usually indulge. It wasn’t something he had the vocabulary for, not in his usual clinical sense. For once, there wasn’t a need for facts or equations to understand the feeling that settled inside him.

His fingers, almost absent-mindedly, curled into yours. It was a subtle movement, but the softness of it caught him by surprise. His thumb traced small, slow circles over the back of your hand, a tender rhythm he couldn’t quite explain. For someone who usually lived in the world of patterns and logic, this was unfamiliar territory. But the simple touch, the way your fingers fit together so naturally—it felt right.

In a world where everything was either solvable or predictable, this felt like the exception. There was no analysis needed. No need to question why it felt so much like a moment he wanted to hold onto. Maybe it was the quiet between you two, or the way everything around you seemed to fade as his thumb ran over your hand. All Spencer knew was that in that moment, nothing else mattered.

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The next morning, Hotch had sent Morgan and Prentiss off to speak with students on the campus, while he and Rossi took over the interrogation. The room felt different now, quieter—like the calm before another storm. 

Andrew Carrigton settled into the chair like he was sitting at a country club luncheon rather than an interrogation room. His suit was crisp, his cufflinks glinting under the fluorescent lights. If he was rattled by the fact that three of his former society’s members were dead, he didn’t show it.

Hotch sat across from him, his expression unreadable. Morgan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, unimpressed.

“Mr. Carrigton,” Hotch began, “we’re investigating the murders of three students, all of whom were members of the Seraphic Circle. You were one of its founders. We need information.”

Carrigton exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Tragic. Truly. But I haven’t been involved in years. You’d be better off asking one of the new recruits.”

Hotch didn’t budge. “We’re asking you.”

Carrigton smirked, tilting his head. “What do you want me to say? That it’s a secret society? That we have rituals and secret handshakes?” He chuckled. “Come on, Agent. It’s a networking club. A prestigious one, sure, but hardly the Illuminati.”

Rossi let out a sharp breath, unimpressed. “Right. A ‘networking club’ where only the rich and powerful get in, and anyone who doesn’t measure up gets chewed up and spit out.”

Carrigton raised an eyebrow. “That’s life, isn’t it?”

Hotch didn’t rise to the bait. “The night of the first murder, there was an event. Who was in attendance?”

Carrigton hummed, tapping a thoughtful finger against his jaw. “Hard to say. The Circle’s grown since my time. Dozens of faces, most of which I wouldn’t recognize.”

“You’re still connected. You know the leadership.”

Another lazy shrug. “I might know a few names. But as I said, things change. The president rotates out, always some eager young thing desperate to prove themselves. They run the show until the next one takes over.” He smirked. “I imagine the current one is quite overwhelmed.”

“Who’s pulling the strings?” Hotch asked.

Carrigton chuckled. “You give us too much credit, Agent. It’s not some grand conspiracy. It’s a club. People join, people leave. Some do well, some don’t.”

“And the ones who don’t?”

Carrigton waved a dismissive hand. “They drop out. Go on with their lives. Or—” he smiled, sharp, “—they stew in their resentment, blaming others for their own failures.”

Morgan’s jaw tightened. “You think that’s what happened here?”

Carrigton leaned back in his chair, perfectly at ease. “I think it’s always the same story. Someone on the outside looking in, bitter that they weren’t enough. And now they want to take it out on the ones who were.”

Hotch’s voice was cold. “That’s a convenient theory. But it doesn’t answer our questions.”

Carrigton’s smirk widened. “Then maybe you’re asking the wrong ones.”

From the other side of the glass, you watched Carrigton with growing irritation. He was the same smug, arrogant bastard you remembered from college, only now it was worse. His attitude hadn’t changed a bit, and neither had his ability to waste everyone’s time with his deflections.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as he ran his mouth, completely ignoring the fact that three people were dead, his precious club possibly involved. He was too busy leaning back in his chair, playing at some sick power game.

You glanced at JJ, your patience already hanging by a thread. “There’s no cameras here, right?”

JJ, clearly thrown off by the sudden question, gave you a puzzled look. “No… why?”

Without answering, you turned your focus back to Carrigton and felt your hands tighten into fists. His polished smirk made your blood boil, his greasy hair gleaming under the lights. Your shoulders squared, the weight of your frustration making your movements sharper. You ignored Spencer’s curious glance, his quiet scrutiny as he watched you.

You didn’t have time for any of this.

You walked to the door and knocked once, the sound sharp in the sterile room. Before anyone could respond, you turned the handle, stepping into the interrogation room.

Carrigton’s eyes locked onto you the second you walked in. His gaze flickered briefly, a subtle but noticeable flash of discomfort before he quickly masked it with that same patronizing grin.

“Well, well,” he sneered, adjusting the collar of his shirt like he was trying to put some distance between himself and the real world. “I didn’t realize the FBI was hiring gutter rats now.”

Spencer tensed from the other side of the glass, his expression hardening as his frustration mounted. He was clearly growing angrier at Carrigton’s smug demeanor, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing you were even a little fazed. You simply smirked and kept your focus on the man sitting in front of you.

Carrigton’s glare never left you as you stepped closer, your tone ice-cold. “This ‘gutter rat’ is about to charge you with obstruction of justice if you don’t start talking, Andrew.”

Carrigton's eyes narrowed, his lips curling in a sneer. “That’s blackmail.”

You didn’t flinch. “And if you keep dragging your feet, that’s another charge—contempt of court. Trust me, I’ve got plenty more where that came from.” You leaned in just enough to make sure he heard you loud and clear. “You want to keep playing games, or you want to start answering questions?”

Carrigton shifted in his seat, the cockiness starting to waver, but he still clung to that arrogance like a shield, gripping it with white-knuckled desperation.

“I want my lawyer,” he said, forcing his voice to stay even.

You scoff, tilting your head as if you were genuinely considering his words before your lips curled into something sharp and ruthless.

"Is that your way of admitting you’re not a good enough lawyer to defend yourself?" Your voice was smooth, razor-edged silk, venom threaded through every syllable. "Start talking."

His nostrils flared, a flicker of something—hesitation, anger, maybe both. It was barely a breath, but you caught it.

"From what I know, the admission process has gone to hell," he sneered, grasping at arrogance like a lifeline. "I spoke with their president last week about it. I'm not throwing my money at that place just for them to start letting in anyone."

Rossi’s eyebrows lifted as he slid the crime scene photos across the table, each image a stark, undeniable truth. “Are these people just ‘anyone’ to you, Andrew?”

For the first time, Carrigton’s arrogance fractured. It was subtle—the flicker of his gaze, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t reach for the photos.

And then you saw it. No matter how high his shirt collar was, it couldn’t quite hide the edges of old scars peeking out—angry, uneven marks trailing up the side of his neck, disappearing beneath expensive fabric. 

"We didn’t have anything to do with this," Carrigton muttered, his voice suddenly lacking its earlier bravado. His eyes flickered briefly over the crime scene photos, but his gaze quickly dropped.

"Who’s ‘we’?" Hotch’s voice was cold, demanding, cutting through the silence.

Carrigton didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he shifted in his seat, hands gripping the edges of the table, knuckles turning white. He wasn’t as confident as before.

You could feel it—he was trying to hide the discomfort, but it was there. The truth always made people uncomfortable.

You pushed yourself off the wall, your movement slow and deliberate, your eyes never leaving him as you circled around behind him. He tensed, just slightly at first, but it was enough.

The memory was still fresh, and you knew it. He hadn’t forgotten how you burned him—how the scalding coffee had left that mark on his neck. He was trying not to show it, but it was eating at him, that simmering, seething reminder that you’d done it and he couldn’t touch you for it.

You stopped just behind him, letting your presence loom over him like a shadow. He could feel your gaze, feel the space between you—too close for comfort, too close for someone who hated you as much as he did.

"What’s the matter, Andrew?" You leaned in, your voice low and smooth, but your words sharp as a knife. "Don’t like me standing here?"

"I told him to stop accepting anyone," Carrigton muttered, his voice tightening as he stumbled over the words. "Grayson Locke, that's his name. Legacy admission. But I had nothing to do with this. We even went through some names, cut people off."

You could feel the hesitation in his voice, the way he was trying to distance himself from the mess that was unfolding. His words were almost defensive, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you. The stammering wasn’t lost on you—it was almost pathetic.

"What names?" Rossi’s voice was firm, but he wasn’t pushing too hard yet. He was letting Carrigton sweat just a little longer, a strategy you were both accustomed to.

Carrigton's jaw tightened, his eyes darting nervously between Morgan and you. "It was a list," he said quickly, almost as though the words were tumbling out before he could stop them. "Just find him. Tell him I told you to give it to you." He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to the door. "Outside of that, I don’t know anything else."

There it was. The slip. The admission that he was just as tangled in this as the rest of them. But it wasn’t enough. Rossi stepped out of the interrogation room, heading off to search for the list.

“See? Was that so hard?” You taunted, slumping into the chair Rossi had just vacated, your eyes never leaving Carrigton. His smug façade cracked, just enough for you to see the shift. The sense of discomfort that he could no longer hide.

His eyes flicked to you, venom dripping from his words. “You think you’ve won? All you are is a stray dog who’ll burn in hell.” He spat the words, his jaw tight, but beneath the bravado, there was fear creeping in.

You straightened in the chair, completely unbothered by his outburst. “And you’ll be right there with me. I guess you know a thing or two about burning, don’t you?” Your smirk was sharp, a silent jab at the scars on his neck, the ones you’d left there.

His expression faltered, just for a second, but it was enough to make your blood run colder. Without warning, he shot to his feet, slamming his palms down on the table with a force that made it rattle. His face was inches from yours now, his breath stinking of rage and something darker—panic.

“Fuck you, you deranged bitch,” he hissed, his voice barely contained. “You’ll always be the daughter of some filthy addicts. You’ll never belong to this world. My world.”

You didn’t move, didn’t even blink. The words hit, but they didn’t land. “Did I strike a nerve?” You leaned forward slightly, your tone dropping to a razor-sharp whisper. “Or should I say... burn a nerve?”

Carrigton’s entire body stiffened, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles went white, veins bulging from his hands. His chest heaved with the kind of raw anger that radiated off him like a furnace. “You’re still the same psycho bitch I met years ago.”

You didn’t flinch, didn’t let his venomous words land, only smirked. “Have you learned how to make women come, Carrigton? Or are you still calling them hysterical? Is that why your wife is filing for divorce?”

It wasn’t just the words, but the sharpness of your tone, the deliberate push of your venom that made it sting even more. Garcia had provided all the dirt, the skeletons hidden deep in his closet. You weren’t above having a little fun with it, using it to your advantage. Carrigton, though, was losing his composure with every word you threw at him.

You opened your mouth to retort, but Hotch beat you to it, rising from his seat. "Enough. We appreciate your time, Mr. Carrington. We'll contact you if we need further information," he said, his voice calm but firm.

Andrew huffed dismissively, rising to leave. As he reached the door, he paused, casting one last venomous glance in your direction. "You think you’ve got a place in this world? Trust me, you don’t. People like you? They end up alone, scrambling to hold onto the little sanity they have left before it all slips away."

He didn’t wait for a response, Spencer’s gaze locked with yours the moment Andrew was out of the room. His eyes were filled with concern, but you chose not to address it. Now wasn’t the time.

Instead, you stayed silent, the words echoing in your head. Something about them stuck, gnawing at you. Maybe it was the way he spoke—like he knew something about you that you hadn’t even fully admitted to yourself. Scrambling. It was true, wasn’t it? You were constantly on edge, barely holding it together, pretending that you didn’t feel like you were one step away from losing it. Maybe it would be easier to just give in, let go, and fulfill everyone’s expectations of you. Be the damaged, angry, broken thing they wanted you to be.

For a moment, you almost believed his words.

　　　　 　　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

If murdered students weren’t enough to set the rumor mill on fire, your presence definitely did. The thing about rumors is that they spread like wildfire.

“Sooo… guess what we’ve heard?” Emily’s voice broke through the room as she and the others approached, grinning like they had just uncovered the juiciest piece of gossip on campus.

“Anything useful?” you asked without looking up from the file you were flipping through. “Or is this about the librarian hooking up with students in the archives? Because if it is—old news.”

Morgan smirked, shaking his head. “Nah, actually, we heard about some girl who once got a professor fired.”

“And,” Prentiss added, leaning in with a knowing smile, “was banned from mock trial as a freshman after making another student indirectly confess he bought the answers to his exams.”

Your fingers froze for just a split second—the briefest pause, barely perceptible to anyone but Spencer, who noticed it right away.

You shrugged, trying to keep your voice steady. “People get weirdly creative when it comes to making up rumors.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “So you’re telling me,” she pressed, “that you’ve never heard of the girl who burned some rich kid’s manuscript because he plagiarized her?”

You sighed, closing the file with exaggerated nonchalance. “Sounds like a legend. And legends aren’t real.”

Emily snorted, clearly enjoying this. “Or when she threw a chair at a debate judge for interrupting her?”

Morgan gasped dramatically. “And don’t forget when she flipped a Monopoly board at a networking event after some trust fund brat said she didn’t have the ‘pedigree’ for law.”

Emily smirked. “I heard she broke his nose.”

You shrug it off. “Monopoly makes people violent. Everyone knows that.”

You knew they weren’t trying to be mean, but you’d rather die than show any hint of regret. You had made some questionable choices in the past, but those didn’t define who you were now. Right?

Morgan chuckled, crossing his arms. “Right, right. So I guess the whole thing about you making a guy cry so hard during a mock trial that he dropped out of law school is fake too?”

You were forced to pretend not being able to stop the small smirk tugged at your lips, “Okay, in my defense, that guy was pretentious and thought using big words would make him win.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, “Some student mentioned you, uh, burning people when they pissed you off.” He exchanged a glance with Prentiss, both of them catching on to your lack of eye contact. “Is that what the Dean was referring to?”

You couldn’t help but feel a slight heat creep up your neck, but you managed to keep your gaze on the desk, avoiding their eyes. You didn’t need to give them the satisfaction of seeing how much it bothered you. “People talk,” you muttered. “But if you believe everything they say, you’re as crazy as they are.”

You could’ve fooled anyone in that room full of profilers, because hiding behind your indifference mask was something you were well-practiced at. That was, of course, if they didn’t know you deeply. If they didn’t spend weekends with you, cooking together, exchanging quiet conversations and inside jokes. If they weren’t Spencer Reid—the only one in the room who could read beneath the surface.

He noticed the way you winced when you shifted your neck, the subtle way you massaged the sore muscles with your hand, avoiding eye contact with everyone. To anyone else, it might have seemed like nothing, but to him, it was a clear sign that something was off. You weren’t as fine as you were pretending to be.

"Anyone want anything? I’m doing a coffee run." You don’t wait for an answer, already making your way toward the break room. But the laughter behind you lingers—harmless, good-natured, but still too close to the laughter of your ex-classmates. It curls around your ribs like a memory you don’t want.

You don’t notice Spencer saying he’ll come with you, but you realize he’s there when you hear his footsteps—loud enough for you to hear him, deliberate so he doesn’t startle you.

At the coffee machine, you take a breath, ignoring him. You press the buttons and try to shake the feeling off, but when you glance at him, just for a second, all he sees in your eyes is guilt. Shame.

"What?" Your voice comes out sharper than you mean. "You also think I’m a menace to society? They’re lucky I turned out halfway functional. Statistically, I shouldn’t have.” 

Spencer stays a few feet away—close enough, but not crowding you. The perfect arms-length distance. It was something he understood about you, something you never had to say out loud. Letting you decide if you needed space or needed closeness. Giving you control, even in something as simple as this.

"None of them think that," he says quietly. "I don’t think that."

It takes effort to look at him, but when you do, the tightness in your chest gets worse. You hate it. You hate the way it feels when you take a step closer, resting your forehead against his shoulder. And you hate how naturally his hand finds the back of your head, his fingers brushing through your hair in a slow, soothing motion, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

"I didn’t mean to—God, have you seen the scars on his neck?" Your voice cracks, barely above a whisper. "What kind of… monster does that?"

His hand stills against you for a second.

It breaks his heart every time you talk about yourself like this—like you’re one of the people he spends his life trying to stop.

"Technically, the probability of someone from your background reaching your level of success is less than three percent. And even among that group, only a fraction manage to sustain high-pressure careers."

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Yeah? And what’s the probability of me snapping one day and proving everyone right?"

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t flinch. "That’s not the point."

"Then what is?"

He exhales, steady and patient. "The point is that I could pull up hard data showing how statistically, you shouldn’t have graduated at fifteen. Or made it through law school on a full ride. Or become one of the best prosecutors in D.C. The odds of that happening were lower than one percent. But you did it. So if we're playing by numbers, then statistically… you're exceptional."

He pauses, watching you carefully. Then, softer "And not in the way you seem to think."

Your fingers curl into the edge on themselves, nails pressing into your palms as you process his words. You hate how much they settle into your chest, how they make something raw and aching twist inside you. You exhale, forcing out a scoff, trying to grasp onto the sarcasm that usually keeps you afloat.

"You make it sound like I'm some kind of miracle," 

"You might as well be the proof that God exists to me," Spencer says simply, like it’s the most obvious fact in the world.

Your throat tightens. You shake your head, swallowing past the lump forming there. "I hate how you do that," you murmur.

"Do what?"

"Make me feel like maybe I’m not beyond saving."

His hand stills for a moment before he squeezes the nape of your neck, grounding. "Then I guess I’ll just have to keep doing it until you believe it."

And for once, you don’t have the energy to argue.

　　　　 　　  .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　

The case wrapped up when the team uncovered that one of the students they had interviewed had been fixated on getting into the Seraphic Circle. After his rejection, it became his breaking point, driving him to kill the members in a vengeful spree.

You would have laughed in Andrew Carrington’s face and shown him just how much that exclusive little club had spiraled into something violent and twisted, you would’ve. But, of course, that would’ve been disrespectful to the victims, so you didn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself sink into that bitterness.

But, it didn’t matter in the end. When you landed back in Washington—home, dear home—it didn’t matter. The case was closed, and, for the first time in a long while, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. Your past mistakes no longer haunted you, and as you stepped into the familiar rhythm of your life, you realized that, just for this moment, you could breathe.

To be honest, you weren’t the same person you were back then. The young teen you once were would have never believed, or even considered, that she could be in a loving relationship with a man who would love her unconditionally, no matter what. She never would have believed that someone like Spencer could ever like someone like you. 

"Are you hungry?" Spencer asked, his voice soft as he dropped the go-bag by the entrance of the apartment. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead "I saw this new recipe for homemade lasagna," he added, his eyes lighting up in that way they always did when he was excited about something. "It has layers of ricotta, mozzarella, and this really rich, savory meat sauce that I think we could definitely pull off. I thought we could make it together—maybe add a little twist of our own, like some fresh basil?"

You smiled at his enthusiasm, noticing how his fingers brushed through his hair absentmindedly as he spoke. It was always endearing to watch him get excited over the little things. "Homemade lasagna? That sounds amazing," you replied, already picturing the cozy evening ahead.

His grin widened, and he pulled his phone from his pocket, swiping through the recipe. "It’s supposed to take a bit of time, but it’s not complicated...just a lot of love and patience—so, you know, I think we can manage. Plus, it’ll give us time to talk...and eat a lot of cheese."

You laughed, the sound light and full of affection. "I think I’m sold. Lasagna and cheese? Definitely the kind of night I need."

He gave a small nod, as if he were confirming his excitement to himself. "Okay, I’ll grab the ingredients. You’re in charge of setting up the music. Deal?"

"Deal," you said, already feeling that comforting sense of peace that only came from spending time like this—together, in your little shared world, filled with small moments that meant everything.

Who would’ve thought you’d be cooking lasagna with the soft crackle of a vinyl player spinning Billy Joel and Elvis Presley in the background

　　　　 　　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

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[pbaz7]

FINDING PEACE IN YOU: PART 3

paige x azzi

word count: 10.6k

A/N: I don’t even know…I’m sleepy lol. This is kind of a filler chapter but it moves the story forward slightly in just small interactions and what not. Wasn’t meant to be 10k words at all. Proof reading was iffy so let me know if you see any mistakes! Please leave live reacts and comments letting me know what you think if you can 🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

Paige and Azzi had fallen into an easy rhythm over the next few weeks. Late-night dates after their hectic days, stolen moments in between their busy schedules, and quick texts just to check in. Some nights ended with Paige walking Azzi to her door before heading home, while others found her inside, curled up on the couch with Azzi, their lips tangled in a slow, familiar dance.

But that’s all it ever was—kissing.

Not that Paige was complaining. She loved the way Azzi kissed her, how she took her time, how she always left Paige wanting more. But that was the slight problem. Paige did want more but Azzi wasn’t quite ready yet.

Paige was currently sitting in the recovery room, stretching with some of her Dallas Wings’ teammates, including Dijonai, Arike, and Rickea. Lukas was off to the side, playing with a yoga ball and laughing periodically with one of the rookies on the team. Paige grimaced here and there, stretching out the soreness from how hard she’d gone in the weight room earlier.

Dijonai, looked up from her phone when Paige groaned a little loudly and spoke up. “Yo, why you been going so hard lately?”

Paige glanced at her. “Whatchu mean?” she asked, still stretching.

Dijonai gave her a look, raising an eyebrow. “Girl, you been doing extra reps for like the last two weeks.”

Rickea chimed in saying, “On God, your PR’s damn near about to be higher than mine?”

Paige laughed at that, shrugging it off. “Just been having some extra energy I gotta let out,” she said, trying to sound casual as she continued stretching.

Arike, who had been quietly listening to the exchange, added her two cents. “You gotta get laid instead of trying to kill yourself before the season starts.”

Paige laughed as she continued her stretch. “Not that easy.”

Dijonai raised an eyebrow. “Girl, it literally is that easy for you.”

Rickea added, “You could walk in a club, make eye contact, and walk out with somebody in less than five minutes.”

Paige shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Nah I’m not saying that it’s just—I been seeing this girl that’s all.”

Rickea raised an eyebrow. “So what’s the problem?”

Paige looked at her silently asking what she meant.

“Y’all should be hunching all the time then.”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “Nah, we not there yet.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and everyone in the room froze, processing what Rickea had just said and Paige’s response. A mix of confused expressions filled the space—some with raised eyebrows, others with wide eyes, and a couple of “What?”s and “Excuse me?”s scattered around.

Arike squinted at her like she just missed the punchline of a joke. “What the hell you mean, ‘not there yet’?”

Paige shrugged, her smile softening at the thought of Azzi as she shifted her position slightly. “She’s just intentional with everything,” Paige continued, her voice softer now. “And Ion know, she just got a different vibe, so I’m respecting her wanting to wait.”

Dijonai chuckled at this, a confused look forming on her face. “Are you crazy? You’re telling me you decided to take the one person who won’t put out for you seriously? She a prude or sum?”

Paige’s smile faltered slightly, her tone getting a little more serious. “Yo, watch your mouth…That’s not how it is.”

Dijonai immediately put her hands up in surrender. “My bad, my bad.”

Rickea, not wanting to let the awkward moment settle too long, chimed in with a smirk. “Damn, you sprung already?”

Paige shot Rickea a quick glance, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Shut up,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “I just— I like her, aight? So I’m tryna be respectful and let her decide how fast we go.”

“So, you’re telling me, you’re out here…not getting any…on purpose?” Arike asked, trying to make sense of it.

The conversation came to a sudden halt when Lukas came barreling over, launching himself onto Paige with a grunt. She let out a little noise as he landed on her stomach. “Ma, I’m hungry,” he said.

Paige sighed dramatically, her hands resting on his shoulders to stop him from flailing around. “When are you not hungry?”

Lukas gave her a look, widening his eyes. “Always. But I’m extra hungry now,” he insisted, leaning into her, clearly unwilling to budge until she gave in.

Paige sighed, shaking her head. “Aight, man, come on,” she said, half-amused, half-exasperated.

Lukas beamed, a grin spreading across his face as he jumped off her lap. He ran over to Arike, dapping her up before bouncing over to Dijonaí and Rickea, hugging them both tightly. “Later!” he shouted, barely waiting for a response before he darted out of the recovery room, following Paige out into the hallway.

…

Paige sat on the bench outside the restaurant, watching Lukas happily eat his chicken tenders and fries. He was in the middle of talking her ear off about the exercises he’d done during her practice, hands moving excitedly as he rambled on about who knows what. Paige smiled, listening with half an ear as she checked emails, but her attention was pulled to her phone when it lit up with a FaceTime call.

She glanced down at the screen, and saw Azzi’s name. A small smile tugged at her lips as she swiped to answer, popping in an AirPod and glancing at Lukas to make sure he was content. Lukas had quickly moved on, coloring on the paper the restaurant had given him, clearly lost in his own little world.

Paige answered the phone, her smile growing when Azzi’s face appeared on the screen.

“Wassup?” Paige greeted.

Azzi’s lips curved into a smile as she leaned back in her chair slightly. “What are you up to?”

Paige swiped the screen, flipping the camera around to show Lukas happily munching on his chicken tenders. He was making a mess, dipping one in ketchup and then taking an oversized bite, his cheeks puffed out.

Azzi laughed at the sight. “He’s really going to town on those, huh?”

Paige nodded, a fond smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, he’s like this every time we go out. Makes people think I’m not feeding him.”

Azzi laughs at this.

Paige then leaned back from the camera slightly, her eyes softening as she refocused on Azzi. “How’s work going?”

Azzi sighed, rubbing her temples. “I actually have a huge headache,” she admitted, her voice a little worn. “Between the NBA playoffs and the WNBA season about to start, my schedule’s filling up faster than I can keep up with it.”

Paige’s expression softened with concern. “What’s wrong? You need a break?”

Azzi shrugged, looking exhausted but trying to smile through it. “I need more than a break. I’m just juggling too many things right now but it’ll wind down soon.”

Paige bit her lip, thinking for a moment. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Azzi smirked a little, raising an eyebrow. “Well, if you get a doctor’s degree, then maybe.”

Paige laughed. “Oh, sure, I’ll just go to med school between games and practices. No big deal.”

Azzi’s smile towards Paige was warm, but the exhaustion in her eyes was still evident as she rubbed her temples again. Paige’s smile softened in sympathy. “For real, though, what can I do?” she asked gently, wanting to help somehow, even if it was just in small ways.

Azzi let out a quiet sigh. “I miss you,” she admitted.

Paige’s heart skipped a beat, her smile widening as she looked at the screen. “I miss you too.”

At that moment, Lukas tugged at Paige’s sleeve, his little voice breaking through the conversation. “Ma, look!” he exclaimed, his eyes bright with excitement. Paige glanced down at her son, who was holding up his paper, clearly proud of something he had figured out.

She leaned closer, squinting at the crossword puzzle on the paper in his hands. "What’s that, buddy?" she asked, her smile stretching across her face as she saw the word he’d found. “Good job!” she praised him, giving him a thumbs-up.

Lukas beamed, pleased with himself, and immediately went back to scanning the next section of the puzzle.

Paige chuckled softly, shifting her focus back to the screen where Azzi’s familiar face filled the frame. There was something comforting about seeing her, even through the barrier of a phone screen.

“What’re you doing tomorrow?” Paige asked.

Azzi leaned back against her office chair, tilting her head slightly. “I’m off,” she answered simply.

A small smile tugged at Paige’s lips. “I wanna see you.”

Azzi’s brows furrowed slightly. “I thought you had Lukas’ birthday party tomorrow?”

“I do,” Paige admitted, the words carrying an unspoken weight.

Azzi’s expression shifted slightly as she processed the response, her silent question evident in the way she studied Paige through the screen.

Paige hesitated for a beat before exhaling, then continued, “It might be a nice time for you to meet him. You know officially.”

Azzi’s lips parted slightly in surprise, but then a slow, genuine smile spread across her face. She knew how Paige was when it came to Lukas—how cautious she was about who she let into his world. The fact that she was even suggesting this meant a lot.

“Really?” Azzi asked softly.

Paige nodded, but almost immediately, nerves took over, and she started to ramble. “Yeah, but I mean only if you want to. I know you’ve had a long week, and I’d totally get it if being around a bunch of kids isn’t your ideal way to spend your day off. I mean, they can be loud, and chaotic, and there’s gonna be cake, which is cool, but also probably a mess, and—”

Azzi’s smile grew as she watched Paige ramble, clearly nervous about extending the invitation. It was endearing—seeing Paige, who was usually so smooth and confident, stumble over her words.

“Paige,” Azzi cut in softly.

Paige blinked, her mouth still slightly open mid-sentence. “Huh?”

“I’d love to come,” Azzi said simply.

Paige exhaled a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. I mean, if you’re really sure. I know Lukas is important to you, and I don’t wanna overstep just because we’ve been seeing each other for a few months.”

Paige shook her head. “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure. I just—” she hesitated for a second, glancing down at Lukas, who was still focused on his crossword puzzle. “I know you’ve had a long week, and I’d get it if being around a bunch of wild kids isn’t your ideal off-day you can always just come after.”

“I’ll survive. Besides, like I said, I miss you.”

Paige smiled again, the warmth filling in her chest undeniable. “I miss you too.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other, a quiet understanding passing between them.

Before Paige could say anything else, Lukas’ voice cut through the moment.

“Ma, I found another one!” he announced proudly, waving his crossword puzzle in the air.

Paige turned to him, laughing. “Good job, smartie pants,” she praised, ruffling his blonde hair before glancing back at her phone.

Azzi smiled at the exchange before sighing softly. “I have another client soon, but I’ll call you later, okay?”

Paige nodded, shifting the phone slightly in her hand. “I’ll talk to you later.”

They lingered for a few more moments, neither wanting to end the call just yet, smiles playing on their lips as they held each other’s gaze. Eventually, Azzi shook her head with a small smirk, mumbling out a soft, “Bye Paige,” before hanging up.

Paige stared at the blank screen for a second before exhaling, shaking her head to herself. Yeah, she was in deep.

…

Azzi stepped out of the car, thanking her driver before shutting the door behind her. As she turned toward the house, her eyes landed on the large sign near the side with an oversized arrow directing guests around the back. She laughed to herself, shaking her head—of course, Paige made them set up. She knew how much Paige valued her space, and the last thing she’d want was a bunch of people traipsing through her house.

Following the path lined with smooth marble stones, Azzi made her way to the backyard. But when she stepped around the corner, she froze, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

This was, without a doubt, the biggest birthday party she had ever seen for a four-year-old.

The backyard was transformed into what looked like a mini carnival—there were balloons tied to every possible surface, two bouncy houses set up in one corner, tables covered with themed decorations and all kinds of stations filled with professionals. There were kids everywhere, running around, jumping in the pool, screaming, and laughing, their energy buzzing through the air. Parents stood off to the side, chatting amongst themselves, while a few other athletes Azzi recognized were mingling near the food table.

She shook her head in disbelief. She knew Paige loved Lukas more than anything, but this?

Azzi stepped forward, scanning the crowd for the only person she really wanted to see today. She weaved her way through the chaos of kids sprinting past her and dodged a rogue balloon that almost hit her in the face. She finally saw Paige standing near a table, her hair pulled back into a bun, a drink in her hand as she casually observed the party.

Paige must’ve noticed her presence because when she looked up and saw Azzi, a smile immediately stretched across her face.

Azzi felt warmth spread through her chest at the sight of the blonde.

As she reached her, Paige instantly pulled Azzi into a hug, her voice low as she mumbled, “Wassup beautiful.”

Azzi let herself settle in the brief embrace before pulling back, her eyes flickering to the table filled with wrapped presents. Paige followed her gaze, then let out a small laugh when she noticed the gift in Azzi’s hand.

“You know you didn’t need to get anything, right?” Paige teased, reaching for it.

“Of course I did.”

Paige smirked, placing it on the table with the rest. “You tryna outdo me at my own kid’s party?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Please. There’s two bouncy houses over there—I think you have me beat.”

Paige finally let her eyes drag over Azzi, taking her in with an appreciative smirk. “You look good,” she murmured, her voice just low enough so no one else could hear.

Azzi rolled her eyes, shaking her head like she was annoyed by the attention, but the small smile forming on her lips gave her away. “You’re predictable,” she muttered.

Paige chuckled, not even trying to hide the fact that she was enjoying getting under Azzi’s skin. “You drive here?” she asked, shifting the conversation.

“You know I didn’t.”

Paige laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah. Had to ask, though.” She barely had a second to react before Lukas came barreling over, his excitement bubbling over as he tapped her repeatedly. “Ma! Ma! Ma!”

She looked down at him. “Wassup?”

Lukas immediately launched into a ramble about his party—how fun it was, how many presents he got, how he beat one of his best friends in a race. His words tumbled out so fast that he didn’t even notice Azzi standing there at first.

But the moment he did, it was like someone hit a pause button. His eyes went wide, and all that excitement suddenly shrank as he blinked up at her. Without a word, he tucked himself into Paige’s hip, his face turning pink as he clung to the fabric of her shirt.

Paige looked down at him, then back up at Azzi, who was clearly holding back a laugh. “You good, man?” she asked, nudging him lightly.

Lukas just nodded, but he didn’t let go of her shirt. He peeked up at Azzi, still holding Paige’s shirt like it was some kind of safety net.

Paige reached down and gently smoothed out his hair, taming the messy curls from all the running around he’d been doing. “You gonna be a gentleman and speak or you just gonna keep hiding in there?”

Lukas hesitated for a second before finally pulling away from Paige’s side. He looked up at Azzi, his voice a little quieter than usual. “Hi.”

Azzi smiled at him, crouching down to meet his gaze. “Hi, Lukas. Happy birthday.”

His blush deepened, and he quickly looked down at his shoes, mumbling a soft, “Thank you,” before fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Paige just shook her head, biting back a grin at her son’s sudden bashfulness.

Paige also crouched to Lukas’ level. “You remember her, right?”

Lukas nodded, still staring at his shoes as he held the fabric of Paige’s shirt.

Paige tilted her head. “What’s her name?”

Lukas gave a small shrug, his fingers fidgeting.

Azzi smiled, not offended by his shyness at all. She extended her hand toward him, keeping her voice soft. “I’m Azzi. It’s nice to officially meet you.”

Lukas hesitated for a second before finally reaching out, his small hand grasping hers for a quick, shake before pulling away.

Paige grinned, ruffling his hair. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Lukas just nodded again, his blush deepening as he peeked up at Azzi before looking away just as fast when he noticed she was still looking at him.

Lukas tugged at Paige’s shirt subtly, getting her attention. She looked at him and he cupped his hands around her ear and whispered something. Whatever he said made Paige laugh.

Paige looked over at Azzi, her grin growing. “He wants to know if he can show you a trick in the bouncy house.”

Azzi bit back a laugh, nodding. “Of course.”

At that, Lukas finally untucked himself from Paige’s side. Without another word, he turned on his heel and took off toward the bouncy house, clearly expecting her to follow.

Paige stood up, watching him go with an affectionate shake of her head.

Azzi just made her way toward the bouncy house, where Lukas was already waiting eagerly. His earlier shyness was completely gone, replaced by excitement as he waited for her to come over.

The second Azzi was out of earshot, Paige barely had a moment to breathe before her teammates appeared in front of her.

“And who the hell is that?” Dijonai spoke first, arms crossed.

Rickea smirked, glancing between Paige and Azzi’s retreating figure. “Yeah, why you ain’t mention all that?”

Paige rolled her eyes, playing it cool as she took a sip from her drink. “I don’t know what y’all talking about.”

Arike scoffed. “Don’t play dumb, P.”

KK raised an eyebrow. “So, we just supposed to ignore how you been smiling like a idiot since she pulled up?”

Paige shook her head, but the small smirk she tried to hide gave her away. “Man, y’all need to chill.”

Azzi strolled back up, shaking her head with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression. “Your son is going to kill himself in there,” she announced.

Paige glanced over, catching a glimpse of Lukas attempting some kind of flip. She shrugged, completely unfazed. “Eh, he’ll be aight.”

Rickea cleared her throat pointedly, causing Paige to subtly roll her eyes. She turned back to Azzi and gestured toward the group. “Azzi, this is Rickea, Dijonai, Arike, and KK.” Then, motioning back to Azzi, she added, “Everybody, this is Azzi.”

Azzi offered a polite smile, giving a wave. “Nice to meet you all.”

Arike smiled widely saying, “We’ve heard all about you.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, glancing at Paige, who let out a slow exhale through her nose, already regretting this introduction.

Paige met Azzi’s gaze and muttered, “Not for real.”

Azzi tilted her head, clearly messing with Paige. “So you don’t talk about me P?”

There was something in her tone—curiosity, maybe even the slightest hint of disappointment—that made Paige fumble for a response. “Well, like, yeah I’ve talked about you, but not in the way they’re making it seem,” she rushed out. “I’m not constantly talking about you all day or anything—just, you know, once or twice—casually that’s all.”

Azzi’s lips curved into a smile, amusement dancing in her brown eyes as she watched Paige stumble over her explanation. The reaction only made things worse, Paige’s teammates now staring at her in shock. They had never seen her like this—flustered, rambling in front of a woman, completely out of her usual element.

Before anyone could comment on it, Paige groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I need another drink,” she muttered before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving her teammates and Azzi standing there.

Azzi watched Paige retreat with a smile, clearly enjoying the effect she had on her. Paige’s teammates, however, were staring at Azzi like she had just performed the world's best magic trick.

Rickea spoke first. “Ain’t no way. That wasn’t Paige right?” She turned to Azzi. “What the hell did you do to her?”

Azzi chuckled, shrugging. “Nothing, I swear.”

Dijonai let out a low whistle. “Nah, that was crazy.”

Azzi’s smile grew, but she didn’t say anything, just glancing in the direction Paige had walked off.

KK nudged Arike. “We gotta mess with her about this later.”

Arike laughed, nodding along. “Oh, absolutely.”

Azzi just laughed, deciding she might have to tease Paige about this later herself.

…

Azzi settled in easily with Paige’s teammates after that. Talking and laughing with them as if she had always been part of the group. Every now and then, she’d recognize and she’d excuse herself to go say hello. At one point, Drew took it upon himself to introduce her to Paige’s other siblings, Lauren and Ryan, who both greeted her nicely.

Despite how busy Paige was with the party and giving Lukas her attention, Azzi noticed the way Paige kept glancing in her direction. It was subtle—quick flickers of her eyes across the yard, a lingering look of a smirk when she thought no one was paying attention. And every so often, Paige would find an excuse to wander over, asking if Azzi needed anything, replacing her drink, or just brushing by her with a quiet, “You good?” before getting pulled away again.

Azzi didn’t say anything about it, but she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips every time Paige checked in or the way her stomach fluttered anytime Paige was near.

The backyard was filled with the chorus of "Happy Birthday," and Lukas was soaking up every second of it. His face was practically glowing, his charming smile—so much like his mother’s—on full display as he sat in front of his cake. The flickering candles reflected in his bright blue eyes, and he clapped excitedly with everyone else when the song finished.

Paige’s mother stepped in to handle the cake-cutting, wanting to give Paige a break. “Go sit down for a second,” she told her, waving her off.

Paige didn’t need to be told twice. With a small smile, she subtly motioned toward Azzi before heading toward an empty area off to the side. Azzi caught the gesture and pushed off the table she was leaning against and followed.

As soon as they sat down, Paige exhaled, leaning back slightly. “I swear, I love that kid more than anything, but these little humans are exhausting.”

Azzi chuckled, watching as a group of kids ran past, laughed loudly. “Yeah, I don’t know how you do it.”

Paige looked over at Azzi, her expression softening slightly. "How are you?"

Azzi gave her a warm smile, leaning back a little in her chair too. "I'm good.”

"Thanks for coming," Paige said as a quiet warmth lingered between them.

"Thanks for inviting me," Azzi replied softly.

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the backyard. Neither of them broke the gaze, letting the quiet between them linger for a beat longer than necessary.

Paige flicked her eyes down to Azzi’s lips before speaking, "I tell you how good you look?"

Azzi hummed, a slight smirk forming on her lips. "You did," she replied.

Paige broke out into a grin. "Hm," she murmured, her gaze lingering on Azzi.

Azzi leaned in just a little closer, resting her chin on her palm. "I don’t think I told you how good you look though," she said, her voice dropping. She subtly traced her finger along the back of Paige's hand, the movement almost imperceptible to anyone else. It was just a light graze but enough to send a spark between them. The cup in Paige’s hands shielded the action from anyone else in the backyard, but Paige’s eyes flickered toward the touch before flicking back up to Azzi’s gaze.

Her eyes held a quiet confidence, watching Paige as if she could feel the tension building between them. Paige’s lips parted for a second, as if considering if she wanted to say what was racing through her head, but instead, she just let out a soft exhale, trying to keep the moment light.

Which was ultimately a great decision because two seconds later Lukas was walking over with a huge piece of cake on his plate. Azzi leaned back slightly noticing her approach but her attention was still on Paige. He set his plate down on the table and climbed into Paige’s lap, making himself at home without even saying anything.

Paige looked at him, shaking her head at the audacity. Still she used her hand to pull him comfortably onto her lap as he settled in.

Lukas, blissfully unaware of the moment happening before he walked over, took a few bites of his cake before looking up at Paige, his mouth full. "Ma," he said between bites.

"Hm?" Paige responded, glancing down at him.

Lukas paused for a moment, swallowing before saying, "I’m four now."

Paige chuckled, nodding with a smile. "I know.”

Azzi watched the scene with a soft smile, taking in the natural ease between Paige and her son. There was something so genuine about the way they interacted, a love so obvious in the little moments like this one.

Lukas continued eating his cake after this, oblivious to anything else around him. Paige couldn’t help but laugh at the way he was stuffing his mouth, as she ran a hand through his hair.

"He's really something," Azzi said with a smile as she watched the boy now attempt to get frosting off of his cheek.

Paige grinned at her, as she observed the way she was smiling at Lukas.

Lukas, noticed Azzi looking at him and stopped mid-bite and shot her a shy smile, his blue eyes wide. "You like cake?" he asked, holding out his fork as an offering.

Azzi laughed softly, shaking her head. "It’s alright. I’m all good," she said, trying to decline gracefully, but Lukas wouldn’t have it.

He nudged the plate toward her with a grin. "No! You have to eat some. I’m four now!" he insisted, as if being four automatically made him the expert on how all things should be done.

Azzi’s eyes sparkled with amusement. "Well, if you say so," she said, a playful smile curling her lips until she looked down at the already half eaten cake on the fork he was offering.

Paige, noticing the interaction and wanting to spare Azzi from sharing a fork with Lukas, took the fork from her son’s hands. She used the other end of Lukas’s fork to cut a small piece off of the plate and grabbed it with her fingers to feed it to Azzi.

Azzi hesitated for just a second, surprised by the gesture, but opened her mouth and took the piece from Paige’s fingers with a smile. As soon as she did, Paige sucked her thumb and index finger to get the icing off.

Azzi’s eyes flicked to Paige’s fingers, the soft motion catching her off guard, but she quickly masked her reaction with a smile. "Well, that was one way to do it."

Paige smirked. "I’m just looking out for you.” Her tone was light but there was a flicker of something more in her eyes.

Lukas, blissfully unaware of any unspoken tension, took another huge bite of cake and said, "See? I told you, it’s really good! You should eat all of it!"

Azzi chuckled softly, turning her attention back to Lukas. "I think I’m all good now buddy," she replied, though her gaze flicked back up to Paige’s and lingered.

…

Later that day the party had come to a close, and the sounds of loud chatter and laughter had faded with everyone's departure. The backyard was spotless, thanks to the hired planners who’d cleared out, leaving the space untouched by the chaos that had ensued only hours before.

Azzi was still there, her presence a calming contrast to the energy that had filled the house all day. She was leaning against the counter in Paige’s kitchen as she looked at something on her phone.

Paige stood opposite her, leaning against the island, her gaze fixed on Azzi. There was a lingering tension in her core from earlier that day. From the past few weeks actually.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, catching on to Paige’s stare. "What?"

Paige’s eyes softened, and she let out a small sigh, almost a breathless mumble, "It’s just crazy I haven’t kissed you yet."

Azzi grinned at this. "We’ve had an audience for most of the day.”

Paige hummed in agreement, leaning just a bit closer, but stopping herself before the distance between them could shorten too much. "I know," she murmured, her voice low, almost a whisper. Paige’s family was still around, still packing up things because Lukas would be leaving for Disney World soon. The thought of her son heading off with her family made her smile, but it also made the reality of the season setting in even more evident. She couldn’t afford to miss any time with the games starting next week.

Azzi took a small step forward, just enough to reach Paige, before gently tugging her closer by her shirt. She leaned back against the counter, guiding Paige in front of her as their space shrunk to something almost nonexistent. Paige let her hands settle on the edges of the counter beside Azzi

Without saying anything, Azzi reached up, undoing the bun at the back of Paige’s head, letting strands of blonde fall freely. Her fingers combed through Paige’s hair, the action making Paige’s shoulders drop just a little, the tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding beginning to ease.

"You seem tired," Azzi whispered, her fingers still threading through Paige’s hair.

Paige let out a quiet breath, blinking at Azzi like she was debating whether to be honest. Instead, she shook her head, her lips tugging into a small smile. "I’m alright."

Azzi hummed, not quite believing her, her touch slowing but never stopping. "Liar," she teased, her voice carrying a quiet affection. "Long day?"

Paige exhaled through her nose, finally letting herself lean in just a bit more. "Yeah," she admitted, her voice lower now, almost as if saying it out loud made the exhaustion more real.

Azzi’s hands slid down, resting gently on the sides of Paige’s neck, her thumbs grazing the skin there. "You could sit down, you know. Take a second before the season really takes over."

Paige let out a soft chuckle. "You gonna make me?"

Azzi smirked. "I don’t think I have to make you do anything," she said, tilting her head. Her fingers curled slightly in Paige’s hair, a clear point being made.

Paige rolled her eyes, but the way she stayed exactly where she was and didn’t say anything said more than anything she could’ve.

Azzi let out a small hum as she leaned into Paige’s shoulder, her weight settling comfortably against her. Without thinking, Paige rested her head on top of Azzi’s, the quiet moment wrapping around them.

Paige's hand moved in, absentminded circles along Azzi’s lower back back. “You sleepy?”

Azzi nodded slightly against her. “Mhm,” she murmured, her exhaustion from the week creeping into her voice.

Paige smiled, shifting just enough to glance down at her. “You can go lay in my room if you want.”

Azzi made a small noise of protest, mumbling, “Don’t know where it is.”

Paige let out a quiet laugh. “Because you refuse to ever go in it,” she teased.

Azzi just sighed, looping her arms loosely around Paige’s waist. “Maybe one day.”

Paige smirked. “Or…you could just go now and take a nap gorgeous.”

Azzi hummed again, but she didn’t move. Paige just chuckled, tightening her arm around her as they fell back into silence.

They stood there for a while, wrapped in the quietness of Paige’s house. Paige was still rubbing slow circles on Azzi’s back. The weight of Azzi against her was warm, and Paige was pretty sure she had drifted off about five minutes ago.

But then Lukas came barreling into her legs. “Ma! I’m going to Disney World!” he shouted.

Paige let out a breathy laugh, tightening her hold on Azzi to keep her upright. Azzi barely stirred, only shifting slightly. Paige glanced down at her before giving her waist a small squeeze.

“Third door on the left,” she whispered in her ear.

Azzi nodded, her eyes still heavy, before peeling herself away and heading up the stairs without another word. Paige watched her go for a second before turning back to Lukas, who was bouncing on his heels waiting for her attention.

Paige picked Lukas up with ease, settling him on her hip as he beamed at her. “You excited?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes of course silly!” Lukas vibrated with excitement before looking at her with big, pleading eyes. “But ma you have to come next time.”

Paige softened, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I promise.”

Just then, her mom and siblings walked into the kitchen, their presence signaling that it was time to go.

“You guys about to head out?” Paige asked, adjusting Lukas in her arms.

They all nodded. Paige grabbed what she could to help carry things to the car, still holding Lukas as they made their way outside.

Paige buckled Lukas into his seat, making sure he was secure before brushing a hand through his hair. “You’re gonna be good for grandma right?”

Lukas nodded eagerly, his bright eyes full of excitement.

She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I love you,” she mumbled.

“I love you the mostest ma,” he responded without hesitation, making her heart swell.

Paige smiled, giving him one more kiss before shutting the door. She turned to her siblings, giving each of them a quick hug before finally reaching her mom.

Her mom gave her a pointed look as she said, “Don’t think I didn’t notice your guest today.”

Paige just chuckled, shaking her head as she avoided the topic. “Drive safe,” she said instead, before bidding them all goodbye and watching as they pulled away.

Paige walked back inside, locking the door behind her before making her way upstairs. The house was silent now, a stark contrast to the chaos of the party earlier. As she reached her room, she paused in the doorway, her gaze softening at the sight in front of her.

Azzi was lying on her bed, eyes closed, her breathing slow and steady. Her features were completely relaxed, curly strands of her hair falling gently across her face. Paige couldn’t help but smile as she stepped closer, sinking onto the edge of the bed. She brushed a few strands away from Azzi’s face, her fingers barely grazing her skin.

The small touch caused Azzi to stir, her brows furrowing slightly before her eyes fluttered open. A sleepy smile spread across her lips as she whispered, “Hi.”

Paige smiled at her, keeping her voice soft. “Hey,” she murmured. “Go back to sleep. I’ll go downstairs.”

Azzi shook her head just slightly, her voice drowsy. “I want you to stay.”

Paige hesitated for a moment, searching her face. “You sure?”

Azzi gave a small, slow nod, her eyes barely open.

Paige hesitated for a second longer before kicking off her shoes and carefully slipping into the bed beside her. Gently, she put a blanket over Azzi, tucking it around her before leaning back against the pillows.

She settled onto her back, one arm resting behind her head, the other draped loosely over her chest. Letting out a slow breath, she closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the day finally catching up to her.

Beside her, Azzi shifted slightly, just enough that Paige could feel the warmth of her presence. Paige wasn’t sure how much time passed, but the steady rhythm of Azzi’s breathing was enough to lull her into her own state of rest, her body finally allowing itself to relax.

…

The two of them stirred awake about an hour later, though neither was quite sure who had woken up first. They had shifted slightly closer in their sleep, but even unconsciously, Paige had kept a respectable distance.

Paige blinked a few times, adjusting to the dim lighting shining through the room before turning her head toward Azzi. “How you feeling?” she asked, her voice still a little raspy from sleep.

Azzi stretched slightly. “Better.”

Paige let out a soft hum. “I’m glad you got some rest.”

Azzi shifted slightly, her eyes flickering to the space between them. “You’re not a cuddler?”

Paige let out a soft chuckle. “Was just tryna be respectful. Didn’t wanna overstep.”

Azzi mumbled something into the pillow, her words too muffled for Paige to catch.

Paige turned her head. “What was that?”

Azzi sighed, lifting her face just enough to look at her. “Do you say shit like that on purpose?”

Paige blinked at her. “Nah, whatchu mean?”

Azzi shook her head, exhaling like she had just accepted some inevitable truth. “You say the perfect thing at the perfect time… every single time.”

Paige laughed softly, shifting so she was propped up on one elbow, her head resting on her hand as she admired Azzi. There was something about the way Azzi looked in this moment—still sleepy, her hair slightly messy, eyes warm—that made Paige want to keep her here just a little longer. “You wanna stay tonight?”

Paige immediately saw the gears start turning in Azzi’s head, so she quickly added, “Not like that. We both just been busy and I missed you like crazy this week… and my first two games are away, so I’ll be gone for like—”

Before she could keep rambling, Azzi cut in smoothly, “I’d love to stay.”

Paige’s eyes softened as she took in Azzi’s words. “For real?”

“Yes, Paige.”

That was all Paige needed to hear before a grin stretched across her face. She was still grinning when she murmured, “You know… I still haven’t gotten that kiss.”

Azzi arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you just remembered that now?”

Paige smirked. “Just thought it was worth mentioning.”

Azzi didn’t say anything else—she simply reached out, gripping Paige’s shirt and pulling her closer. Paige hovered over her for a second, their breaths mingling, before Azzi pulled her into a kiss. The moment their lips met, a quiet sigh escaped Azzi, her fingers tightening in Paige’s shirt as she felt the slow, deliberate slide of Paige’s tongue against hers.

The kiss wasn’t rushed or frantic. It was slower—like they were making up for every day they’d gone without this. Paige’s hand found Azzi’s waist, fingers pressing gently against her skin. They stayed tangled like that, lips moving in sync, lost in the quiet intimacy of it all for a while, losing track of time in one another.

Paige, getting a little too invested but not wanting to push too far, eventually pulled away.

Azzi let out a breathy laugh, her lips still tingling from how long they were connected to Paige’s . “You always pull away first,” she whispered, eyes half-lidded as she looked up at Paige.

Paige didn’t say anything, just licked her lips as she took in the appearance of Azzi under her before pushing herself off the bed and heading toward the bathroom.

Azzi called after her, “I didn’t know I had it like that.”

A moment later, Paige reappeared, wiping her wet face with a towel before tossing it onto a chair.

“Yes, you did.”

Azzi grinned, stretching her arms above her head as she watched Paige get comfortable again. “So you’re admitting it now?”

Paige just huffed out a laugh, shaking her head as she glanced at her phone on the nightstand. Deciding not to address the question she looked over at Azzi. “You hungry?”

Azzi just grinned at Paige deciding to ignore her question. “I should probably eat.”

Paige grinned. “I can cook for us.”

But Azzi immediately shook her head. “Nope, I’ll cook.”

Paige scoffed. “I can cook, you know.”

“I’m sure you can, but you know I’m picky. And I’d hate to not like you anymore if you burn my food the first time one of us cooks.”

Paige let out a laugh. “Ok, that’s crazy—” But then, mid-laugh, she paused. Azzi’s words settling in a second later.

I’d hate to not like you anymore.

Her expression shifted, brows raising slightly. “Wait.”

Azzi, realizing exactly what Paige had just processed, stood up and made her way toward the door without saying anything else.

Paige blinked, watching her go. “Nah, hold on—Azzi commere,” she called, already climbing off the bed to follow after her.

But Azzi was already halfway down the stairs, acting like she hadn’t just slipped up. “Nope. Gotta make sure we don’t starve.”

Paige shook her head not accepting that as she trailed after her.

…

As she was cooking Azzi moved through Paige’s kitchen with ease, pulling out ingredients and utensils like she’d been in this space a hundred times before. Paige leaned against the island, watching her the entire time.

“Okay, I gotta say,” Azzi said as she reached for a pan. “I respect that you actually have things where they should be.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”

Azzi turned, giving her a look like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Some people just put things in the wrong spots. Like, why would I have to walk across the entire kitchen to grab a pot when it should be right here next to the stove?”

Paige laughed. “So you’re telling me there’s a right and wrong way to organize a kitchen?”

“Yes,” Azzi said without hesitation, setting the pan down on the stove. “Efficient kitchen organization is an art, and I—” She paused, feeling Paige step up behind her.

Paige leaned in close, her chest lightly pressing against Azzi’s back as she snaked her arms around her waist. “Mmhm,” she hummed lazily, lips hovering just near Azzi’s ear. “Tell me more about your organization skills.”

Azzi exhaled through her nose but didn’t let herself get distracted. “I’m serious,” she said, pouring olive oil into the pan. “People just put things anywhere, like knives on the opposite side of the kitchen from the cutting board. Doesn’t make any sense.”

Paige grinned against her temple as she whispered, “You kinda sexy when you talk like that.”

Azzi almost faltered but she stayed focused, reaching for a spoon instead. “I’m not that easy.”

Paige chuckled, unfazed by the resistance. She let her hands trail down Azzi’s arms before stepping back, leaning on the counter beside her instead.

For a few minutes, Azzi cooked while Paige lingered nearby, occasionally brushing against her or whispering little comments in her ear that made Azzi shake her head with a small smile. None of it truly distracted her though.

When Azzi leaned back slightly against the counter taking a break while something simmered, Paige took the opportunity. Without warning, she gripped Azzi’s waist and effortlessly lifted her onto the counter.

Azzi made a noise in surprise, her hands instinctively landing on Paige’s shoulders to steady herself. “Paige!”

Paige just grinned, stepping between Azzi’s legs, resting her hands on Azzi’s thighs as she dipped her head. “Yeah?”

Azzi opened her mouth to say something, but Paige was already leaning in, her lips brushing against the column of Azzi’s neck.

Azzi exhaled, fingers curling slightly at the back of Paige’s neck. “You—” Her words cut off as Paige kissed a little lower.

Paige smiled against her skin. “Me…?”

Azzi swallowed, her heartbeat picking up. “You know what you’re doing.”

Paige hummed in response, letting her hands slide further up Azzi’s thighs as she pressed another kiss just below her jaw. “And?”

Azzi was officially unraveling, her fingers gripping Paige a little tighter. “And you’re—”

A loud sizzle from the stove suddenly yanked her back to reality. She jolted, eyes widening as she shoved at Paige’s shoulders. “Oh my God!” she yelled, quickly hopping off the counter and rushing back to the stove.

Paige bit her lip to stop herself from laughing and leaned back against the counter with her arms crossed. “Damn,” she said, watching Azzi stir the pan. “That was fun while it lasted.”

Azzi shot her a glare. “You can’t do that while I’m cooking. New rule.”

Paige grinned at her. “Aw, come on, I was just tryna help.”

“Help who?” Azzi scoffed. “Because you definitely weren’t helping me cook.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stay six feet away until you’re done.”

Azzi turned back to cooking, muttering under her breath, “You better.”

Paige, watching her with a huge grin, whispering just loud enough for Azzi to hear, “You liked it though.”

Azzi didn’t turn around, but Paige didn’t miss the way she let out a deep exhale.

Paige kept her word, leaving Azzi alone the rest of the time she cooked but it didn’t last longer than that. Paige immediately complained about the amount of food on her plate.

“You’re an athlete,” Azzi pointed out, sliding the plate in front of her. “You don’t eat enough.”

Paige scoffed, picking up her fork. “I eat plenty.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow clearly unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Just be quiet and eat, Paige.”

Paige rolled her eyes but took a bite, making a show of chewing dramatically before giving a nod of approval. Azzi smiled, sitting across from her and starting on her own plate.

The conversation flowed naturally between them, like it always did as they ate. Azzi asked about Paige’s games next week, and Paige leaned forward, resting her forearm on the table as she explained.

“We’re playing in Minnesota first,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Then we go to Atlanta.”

Azzi watched her for a moment, noticing the way Paige’s expression shifted slightly at the mention of Minnesota. “You excited to be home for a bit?”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. Even if it’s just for the game. It always feels different playing there. More personal.” She paused, then added, “Lukas starts school in the fall, by the way. Drew sent me a text while you were cooking saying Lukas said ‘Azzi has to know.’”

Azzi’s face lit up with genuine excitement. “Wait, for real?”

Paige nodded again. “Yeah. He’s already talking about what kind of bag he wants and how he’s gonna make ‘so many friends.’”

Their conversation shifted from Lukas to Azzi’s clinic. While they were talking about it Paige picked up on the way Azzi’s tone changed—still steady, but a little more contemplative so she asked her what was going on.

“Everyone’s kind of been pressuring me to expand,” Azzi admitted, her fork idly pushing at her food. “But I don’t want to.”

Paige rested her chin on her hand. “Why not?”

Azzi exhaled through her nose. “I don’t want any clients listed in my clinic that I can’t see personally. And I don’t want to have to hire other DOs—it’s a whole process, and I’d rather just keep things small, only seeing who I actually have time for.”

Paige nodded slowly, considering her words. “That makes sense. It seems

like you’ve always been hands-on so I feel like it makes sense that you wanna personally take care of your clients.”

Azzi gave a small smile at that. “Exactly. I don’t want to lose that connection. I like knowing the people I work with, understanding their needs, seeing their progress firsthand. Expanding would mean giving up some of that control, and I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

Paige studied her for a second before shrugging. “You don’t have to expand just because people are saying you should, you know? You built something great—if you’re happy with how it is, then that’s enough.”

Azzi sighed, leaning back in her chair. “That’s what I keep telling myself, but you know how people are. They think bigger automatically means better.”

Paige scoffed. “Not always. I mean, you could if you ever wanted to, but it doesn’t have to be now, or even in the next few years. Do it on your time.”

Azzi tilted her head, watching Paige with something softer in her gaze. “You always say the right thing.”

Paige smirked, reaching for her glass of water. “So I’ve been told.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t fight the small smile on her lips. “Yeah, yeah.” She took another bite before glancing up again. “Enough about me—tell me more about Minnesota. You looking forward to it?”

Paige’s eyes brightened as she started talking about how special it was to play at home, even if it was just for a game here and there.

At some point, Paige noticed Azzi slowing down with her food, her expression softer, a quiet comfort settling between them. “You good?”

Azzi nodded, her voice a little quieter. “Yeah. I just like this.”

“Like what?”

Azzi shrugged slightly. “This. You.”

Paige watched her for a second before smiling softly. “Me too.”

A comfortable silence settled between them as they finished eating, the quiet clinking of silverware against plates filling the space. Once Azzi put her fork down and moved to pick up her and Paige’s plate, Paige was quicker, gently taking it from her hands.

“I got it,” Paige said softly.

Azzi bit her lip, watching her for a second before nodding. “Okay,” she murmured, pushing back from the table and settling back into her chair.

As Paige turned toward the sink, Azzi pulled out her phone, scrolling through her emails. The occasional sound of the running water and dishes clinking together filled the kitchen.

Paige glanced over her shoulder at one point, catching Azzi deep in thought as she scrolled, her eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. She smiled to herself before turning back to the dishes, the simple domesticity of the moment not lost on her.

Once Paige was done, she dried her hands on a towel and walked back over to the table, her eyes settling on Azzi. She didn’t say anything at first—just leaned against the counter, watching as Azzi scrolled through her phone. Paige noticed the way she kept rolling her neck and shoulders, as if she was trying to work out some tension.

“You okay?” Paige finally asked.

Azzi exhaled through her nose, still scrolling. “My shoulders are just a little tight,” she admitted, tilting her head slightly to the side in an attempt to ease the discomfort.

“You should take a warm shower,” Paige suggested. “It’ll help loosen you up. And I can help after, if you want.”

Azzi looked up at her, considering the offer for a second before nodding. “That sounds good.”

Paige smiled at that, motioning for Azzi’s hand as they headed upstairs together.

Before Azzi walked into Paige's bathroom Paige handed her some towels. The moment Azzi shuts the bathroom door Paige drops onto the bed checking her phone and scrolling through social media a little bit. When Azzi finally steps out of the bathroom, her wet curls are clinging to her shoulders, and a towel is wrapped snugly around her body. Paige, who had been casually scrolling through her phone, glanced up—and immediately felt her brain short-circuit.

Her breath hitched, her eyes shamelessly trailing over Azzi before a slow, goofy smile spread across her face.

Azzi noticed and let out a laugh. “Can I have some clothes, please?”

Paige didn’t respond right away, still looking at Azzi like she had completely forgotten how to function. Instead of answering, she just lifted her hand and pointed toward her closet.

Azzi walked into the large walk-in closet. As she took in the sheer amount of clothes Paige had, she couldn’t help but tease her about it, “There’s no way you should have this many clothes.”

Silence.

Azzi, expecting some kind of sarcastic comment, glanced over her shoulder—only to find Paige sitting there with her eyes squeezed shut, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose like she was physically trying to reset her brain.

“You good over there?”

Paige let out a sharp breath, finally looking at her again. “You—” She stopped herself, shaking her head and laughing under her breath. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Azzi smirked, clearly not believing her, but didn’t press it. She grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of boxers before disappearing back into the bathroom to change.

The sound of the door clicking shut was followed by a quiet pause.

As she pulled the clothes over her head, Paige's voice cut through the stillness, calling out from the bed, “You’re definitely a tease.”

Azzi chuckled softly to herself but didn’t reply, finishing up in the bathroom and walking back out a few minutes later, Paige’s fresh clothes comfortably draped on her. She leaned against the doorframe as she said, “I’m not a tease.”

“Sure you’re not. And I don’t dribble a basketball for a living.”

Azzi crossed her arms with a small pout on her lips. “That’s not fair.”

Paige, completely unfazed, opened her legs slightly, “Come here.”

Azzi moved closer, allowing herself to be drawn in by Paige’s silent command. She settled her back against Paige’s chest, letting her head rest against her shoulder. Paige's hands were warm as they moved to her shoulders, starting to knead the tension out of them, and Azzi closed her eyes in quiet appreciation.

Paige worked perfectly, her fingers tracing the knots in Azzi’s muscles, focusing on the places where she’d been stiff from the werk. Everything else seemed to fade as Azzi slowly began to relax, sinking further into Paige’s touch, allowing herself a moment to let go of everything outside of the warmth that surrounded her.

Paige’s hands paused for just a moment as she felt Azzi unwind under her touch. For about 20 minutes the room was quiet, with only the soft sound of their breathing filling the space. Eventually Paige leans down, her lips brushing gently against Azzi's neck. She kissed the sensitive skin there a few times before whispering, “How was that?”

Azzi's response was a soft, almost inaudible murmur, her voice thick with the pleasure from Paige’s touch. "Amazing."

Paige smiled against Azzi’s neck before pressing another open-mouthed kiss to the same spot. She moved to pull away, her mind returning to the present, but Azzi wasn’t ready for it to end. She reached up, her fingers threading through Paige’s hair, gently pulling her back toward her. She tilted her head to the side, her lips parting as she whispered, “Keep going.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat at the demand, her body responding instantly. She nodded and used her free hand to cup Azzi’s jaw gently guiding her head further to the side. As she did, her lips pressed back against Azzi’s neck, this time a little firmer, a little deeper, as she let her tongue trace Azzi’s skin.

The tension in the room shifted, becoming heavier as Paige’s mouth moved with more intention across every inch of Azzi’s neck. Azzi’s soft gasps of approval filled Paige’s ears, spurring her on as she kissed her way down.

As Azzi turned her neck to meet Paige’s lips with her own, the moment stretched out. They stayed like that, lips moving together softly at first, savoring the closeness. When she heard Paige groan at her attempt at tugging her closer, Azzi decided to turn around fully, straddling Paige’s lap. The closeness of their bodies seemed to heighten everything, and Azzi’s hands tangled in Paige’s hair as she pushed herself closer.

For a few minutes, they stayed like that, locked in the heated embrace. Azzi’s hands roamed, and Paige's breath quickened in response to the subtle touches. Slowly, Azzi began to push her hip closer, her lips trailing down Paige’s jawline before dipping to her neck. Paige clenched her jaw, trying to hold herself together. She squeezed her eyes shut, allowing Azzi to explore her skin.

It didn't take long before Paige's hands found Azzi's hips, squeezing them gently, breaking the spell for a moment.

"Azzi," Paige breathed, her voice thick. "Member how we said we were waiting?"

Azzi hummed, her lips still trailing over Paige’s skin, the sound similar to a purr as she didn’t stop what she was doing. "Mhm."

Paige’s breath caught, her tone breathier now as Azzi bit her neck gently before soothing it. "You gave me a timeline... and I’m just tryna make sure you stick to that, baby."

Azzi paused, her lips just millimeters away from Paige’s skin. "We can," she whispered, and then she sucked gently on the spot below Paige's jaw—one she had learned was a sweet spot for her.

"Jesus Christ," Paige whispered, her hands tightening around Azzi’s hips. She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. "I’m not gonna be able to if you keep doing all this."

Azzi pulled back slightly, her breath mingling with Paige's as she smiled at her. "Kissing?"

Paige laughed breathlessly, she felt Azzi’s lips return to her neck. "Nah, we can... it’s just..." Paige trailed off, her thoughts momentarily lost as Azzi’s sucked on her skin again.

Azzi pulled back looking at Paige with a heat in her eyes that made Paige’s chest tighten. "I want you."

The noise that left Paige’s throat was a mixture of a content sigh and something that sounded almost painful. Her voice was strained as she spoke. "You can't say shit like that to me right now."

"Why not? It’s true." As Azzi said this she connected her lips with Paige’s, her tongue swiping across her lips for access.

Paige felt the fog in her mind clear for just a moment as she pulled back, her hands steadying Azzi when she tried to chase her lips. "You said waiting was important to you.”

Azzi met her eyes, a calm sincerity in her gaze. "I trust you," she whispered.

Paige took a breath, her heart pounding in her chest. "I know," she said softly. "I just don’t want you to regret not sticking to your plan."

Azzi gave her a playful smile. "Three months, two and a half... same thing. What’s two weeks?"

Paige couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between them momentarily breaking as she laced their fingers together. "Exactly," she said, her voice light. "What’s two weeks?"

"You’re really talking yourself out of sex right now?”

Paige leaned back slightly, shaking her head as she let out a quiet laugh. "Trust me, I know," she replied, the irony of the situation not lost on her. "I’m fully aware."

Azzi watched Paige who had leaned her head back against the headboard and closed her eyes. As she sat there looking at her for a moment Azzi was thankful Paige had stopped them. Because truthfully, Azzi still did want to wait.

Paige hadn’t started her season yet. All the traveling, games, expectations—it hadn’t hit. Azzi didn’t know if the version of Paige she had right now, the one she’d had for the past two and a half months, would feel different a few weeks from now. She didn’t doubt Paige’s feelings, but she knew how much weight was about to fall onto her shoulders. She knew Paige was about to be in different states, with different women and she wanted to be sure.

So, instead of pushing for more, Azzi leaned against Paige, settling into her warmth. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Paige barely opened her eyes, just enough to glance at Azzi before mumbling, “’Course.”

And they sat there just like that, wrapped in each other, the heat between them simmering down into something quieter, something deeper.

Paige started running her fingers through Azzi’s curls, her touch comforting as she said, “Can I ask you something?”

Azzi nodded, eyes still half-lidded from the warmth of Paige’s touch.

Paige hesitated for a second before speaking. “What happened with your ex?” she asked carefully. “M’ just askin’ ’cause I remember you saying she’s one of the big reasons why you wait.”

Azzi exhaled slowly, her fingers idly tracing patterns on Paige’s side. “We were together for four years,” she said. “And I found out she was cheating on me for half of them.”

Paige’s hand stilled in Azzi’s hair. “What?” The word came full of disbelief. She leaned back slightly, eyes searching Azzi’s face like she was waiting for her to say she was joking. But Azzi just nodded.

“I just felt really disgusting after I found out,” Azzi admitted quietly. “So—yeah.”

Paige’s expression softened, her hand moving from Azzi’s hair to cup the side of her face. “I’m sorry that happened to you, beautiful.”

Azzi shook her head. “Don’t apologize for something someone else did.”

Paige shook her head, eyes locking onto Azzi’s. “I’m not,” she said simply. “I’m apologizing that it happened to you. That you had to go through that. There’s a difference.”

Azzi blinked at her for a second before a small smile tugged at her lips. She leaned up, pressing a soft peck against Paige’s lips, her way of silently saying thank you.

Azzi let out a small yawn, and Paige caught it. “You wanna go to bed?”

Azzi shook her head, her curls brushing against Paige’s neck as she settled deeper against her.

Paige chuckled. “Why not?”

Azzi exhaled, playing with the hem of Paige’s shirt. “Because the real world starts again tomorrow, and I won’t see you for like a week.”

Paige grinned. “You could just fly to Minnesota for the game,” she teased.

“Ha-ha, very funny. Tell that to my overdramatic clients who act like they’re dying if they can’t see me.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, nudging Paige’s side. “Shut up,” she mumbled.

After a little more teasing Paige decided to turn on a movie, and the two of them settled in. But it didn’t take long for her to feel Azzi start to drift off. Barely fifteen minutes in, she felt Azzi’s weight relax against her, her breaths warming Paige’s shoulder. Paige grinned.

“Lemme take a shower before I get trapped underneath sleeping beauty,” she murmured, shifting slightly.

Azzi mumbled something unintelligible about Paige being rude sometimes, making Paige laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, grabbing some clothes from the closet before heading to the bathroom.

By the time she stepped out of the shower, the room was dark, the only light coming from the large TV screen. Azzi was curled up on her side, mouth slightly open as she slept. Paige couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sight.

Paige tossed her dirty clothes into the hamper before turning off the TV and climbing into bed. As soon as she slid under the covers, she felt Azzi curl into her side and drape a leg across her as she rested her head against Paige’s chest.

Paige blinked in surprise before Azzi whispered out, “Goodnight, Paige.”

A warmth spread through Paige’s chest as she tightened her arm around Azzi, pulling her closer. “Goodnight,” she whispered back, closing her own eyes as sleep slowly took over.