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itsactuallylina · 4 months ago

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FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT ☆ YJW

SYNOPSIS: falling for your best friend's cousin was never the plan, but as you and jungwon grow closer, keeping secrets gets harder. Especially when minju starts to notice!

PAIRING: best friend’s cousin!jungwon x f!reader

GENRE: fluff, angst(most of it), flirty jungwon, high school au, love at first sight kinda, mention of panic attacks , A LOT of angst, pov switching, intended lowercase, possible mistakes

FEATURING: enhypen sunoo, illit minju, zb1 gyuvin, kiof belle , bnd taesan

WORD COUNT: 12.8k (ik it’s crazy)

A/N:lol 😝 this is a revamp (?) of my old ass smau which has like 2 chapters LMAO. i was thinking about writing it as a long fic for like a year and finally did it! first long fic too bruh. pls lmk if u like it 🥹 also english is not my first NOR my second language 😭 so sorry if there are any mistakes ; tagging @miumura

check out the masterlist —> here !

“minju, where are we going now?” — you whine, not wanting to walk again, you were pretty sure that you already had over 15 thousand steps today, and yet, minju has another place she suddenly wants to go. “i am tired”

“you’re always tired” she claims, staring into your eyes. “you’ll like it, I promise”

you groan, tilting your head back. “every time you said this, I end up regretting it later”

“excuse me?” minju says baffled, “did you regret the arcade? the rooftop picnic? the train to nowhere?”

“…okay, those were fun,” you admit, narrowing your eyes. “but i’m still tired”

she grins, already tugging your wrist. “it will be quick, just a few pictures. i’ll even let you pick the filters!”you sigh, following her. “fine fine, but if I look half-asleep in them, thats your fault”

“deal!”

you knew that you would give in, you love minju. she is your best friend after all.

the photobooth minju suggested to go to was located in the popular arcade, the one you went to that one time. as you walk in, the neon glow of the arcade flickers above you, minju is already almost at the booth area, you quickly catch up with her, escaping the air filled with buttered popcorn and soda scents. you’re mid laugh, looking at the ridiculous stickers displayed at the entrance when—

thud.

you barely register the warmth of another person before you stumble back, almost falling off your feet.

and then you look up.

wow.

you almost forgot how to breathe.

he is gorgeous. the guy standing in front of you is tall, hands stuffed in pockets.

for a second, his gaze locks onto yours—in this mere moment you notice his boba eyes, lightly curled hair and his catlike features.

you realized you probably looked like a creep, so you break off the eye contact.

“y/n, are you alright? you almost fell down” minju took a hold of your hand, worry visible on her face, before it disappeared as she looks in the way of the person you bumped into.

your best friend scoffs. “ugh, seriously? again?”

again? your brows knit together as you glance between them.

that guy chuckled, his gaze locked on you again. “I’m happy to see you too. didn’t know you had such a pretty friend.” he says with utmost confidence. you can feel the warmth appearing on your cheeks at his compliment, trying to avert your eyes somewhere else.

“oh my god, can you not?” minju sighs dramatically, you never knew she could be so annoyed at sight of someone. huh, guess there is a side of her you don’t know of.

“what? you won’t even introduce us?” he smirks, not looking away from you.

“fine, jungwon this is y/n, y/n this is jungwon, my cousin.” a nth dramatic sigh escaped from her.

so he is minjus cousin…

“nice to meet you, y/n” he says, extending his hand for you to shake, your name rolling off his tongue the way you never thought you would hear.

“uh, yea, nice to meet you too” you stutter, mentally slapping yourself for it. that’s what you say? seriously ?

“you’re really cute, you know?” jungwon suddenly said, you still didn’t calm down from the previous compliment and he throws another one at you?

the blush on your face only deepens, making you look like a tomato. gosh, so embarrassing…

“sorry, but she’s off limits to you, don’t try.” minju remarks before you could even respond.

“off limits, huh. that’s a shame” her cousin replies. “oh well, we can still be friends, right y/n?”

mention of your name makes you jolt, and before you could even think, you agree. “Of course! Yea, we can be friends, no problem”

“y/n?! whatever, just don’t cross any boundaries” ou, maybe you shouldnt have said that.

minju grabs your wrist, pulling you towards the booth. “you can ignore him if you want to”

you let yourself be dragged away, but as you step in the photo booth you make a mistake of looking back.

jungwon is watching you, a smug grin on his face, like his cousins words don’t mean a thing to him.

If only you knew that it was just a beginning.

since it was a little holiday break before the school starts, you decided to visit your favorite record shop to finally buy a vinyl from your favorite group, arctic monkeys.

walking in, you feel the warmth of the cozy atmosphere. the record shop is filled with a quiet melody, which you recognize but can’t put a name on. the air is thick with the scent of old vinyls, worn leather, and a faint trace of coffee coming from the counter. your fingers skim over the albums on display, the rough texture of cardboard meeting your skin. the lighting is dim and golden. it was a place where time slows down. you loved it.

when you find the needed section, you scan the variety, thinking which vinyl you should get. your eyes stop at the familiar black cover with a white sound wave—AM, one of your favorite albums of all time. weird how you never got it, since your first choice song, fluorescent adolescent, is on it.

your hand extends towards the album, and as you almost take it, it disappears from your sight. you firmly turn, hand still in mid-air, eyes locked onto the thief who dared to snatch your treasured almost-purchase. and then—you freeze.

yang jungwon.

the same guy who shamelessly flirted with you back at the arcade, minju’s cousin. but now, the smirk he had the first time you met is nowhere to be found, replaced by an expression that you can’t quite read.

“jungwon?” your own voice comes out before you can even think. maybe you should get that checked out.

he blinks, then lets out a small laugh that gives away his disbelief. “huh, didn’t think that i’d run into you again.”

your gaze flickers to the album he still holds in his hands. “didn’t think you’d steal my vinyl either, but here we are.”

“steal? didn’t see your name on it.” the smugness you remember makes its way back onto his face.

“i literally was about to grab it,” you huff, crossing your arms.

jungwon tilts his head, examining the record while considering something, at least from the looks of it. “you have good taste, but i’m not sure if i should be impressed or offended that your first arctic monkeys vinyl wasn’t this one.”

“i didn’t really ask for your judgment,” you say, rolling your eyes.

he grins, offering the album back to you, but as you were about to take it, he pulls it back. “how about this?” he muses, eyes shining. “i’ll let you have this if you… beat me in a game at the arcade. let’s keep it fair and simple.”

your brows shoot up. “you can’t be serious.”

he shrugs his shoulders. “oh, but i am. you win—you get your precious AM album. and if i win?” he slightly leans in, just enough to make your heart do something stupid. “you take me out for coffee.”

you can sense heat creeping up your neck as he goes back to his original position. “that sounds more like a win-win for you, though.”

“exactly.”

you narrow your eyes at him, pretending to think about your options. jungwon watches you with amusement, twirling the vinyl between his fingers. finally, you sigh. “alright, lead the way.”

his smirk widens as he gestures towards the door with an exaggerated bow. “after you, my lady.”

you roll your eyes but can’t hide the flutter the silly nickname gave you. feeling his presence behind you, you go through the aisles of the store. the dim light fades into the neon gleam of the arcade across the street. the distant sound of buttons and clicking fills the air, instantly reminding you of the last time you were here.

but before you can dwell on it any longer, jungwon steps beside you. “hope you’re ready, because i won’t go easy.”

you glance up at him. “never expected you to.”

maybe you should have been a little bit less of a nerd and agreed to gyuvin’s and taesan’s offer to go to the arcade.

you’re losing horribly. you did not expect jungwon to be this good at the games.

it all started with the air hockey—you were in the lead for the first few minutes before jungwon suddenly interrupted your scoring streak and literally humbled you. was it karma for being too confident?

then came the basketball shootout. jungwon scored three points out of five effortlessly. “i’m not going easy this time,” he teased.

“you said that six times already,” you muttered, focusing on the game before you, remembering the basketball lessons you attended in middle school.

your first shot bounced off the rim, making jungwon’s smile wider. “what’s wrong? scared?”

you ignored him, concentrated again, and—swish. the next shot was clean. then the next one. and the next one. and also the last one.

jungwon’s confidence wavered as you scored four points. you won.

he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “you got lucky.”

you grinned. “sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” it was finally your turn to tease him.

now, the dance dance revolution is happening. the glow of the DDR machine flickered as the game loaded. the platform beneath you slightly vibrated, metal panels cool under your shoes.

as soon as the game started, the arrows flooded the screen. the music played through the speakers, matching your moves. jungwon was beside you, moving effortlessly, barely missing a step.

you, on the other hand, weren’t so careful. your movements were a little frantic, messy, but fun. laughter bubbled up between breaths as you nearly tripped on a tricky move.

“is that all you got?” jungwon teased.

“just wait,” you huffed, eyes locking onto the screen.

the song sped up, so did both of you.

your movements became more precise, matching the beat. the combo is unbelievably high right now, and everything seemed good.

until it didn’t.

you can feel yourself slipping because of the slick material of your shoes. already prepared for the impact, you’re expecting the pain, squeezing your eyes shut—

but instead, you feel warmth engulfing your hand and bringing you back up.

“careful now, it’s still not the end,” jungwon says while holding your hand and continuing to dance.

you, having no choice, but to carry on with your movements, but now, with intertwined fingers with the guy beside you.

laughter filled the air as the music started to fade away before it completely stopped and the game started to count your scores.

you, still breathless, still holding hands with jungwon, look at the screen.

87.

you feel proud, but you quickly glance at the screen next to yours, and it says the exact same thing.

you look at each other’s eyes before bursting into chuckles again.

“so it’s a tie?” he asks, turning to you.

“i guess so,” you reply, chuckling a little bit.

“alright then,” jungwon says while tilting his head towards the exit. “we both get what we want.”

you nod, still catching your breath. “right. first things first—my album.”

“lead the way.”

as you both made your way back to the record shop, the warm scent of vinyls and coffee filled the air again. scanning the shelves, you grab the desired AM album before jungwon could.

he just laughed. “happy now?”

“very.” you grinned, already going to check out.

when you paid for the vinyl, you find a phone right before you.

“put your number in. you promised me a coffee, remember?” he reminded you.

for a second, you hesitated, remembering minju’s words.

“come on, we had a deal.” a little pout appeared on his face, making you chuckle.

“alright, alright.” you take the phone from him and enter your number before giving it back. you feel your own phone vibrate in your back pocket.

“just making sure it’s real.”

“do i look like someone who gives fake numbers?” you scoffed.

“not really. more like someone who’d block me instead.” jungwon hummed.

you opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, he was already heading toward the exit. “i’ll text you. be ready.”

and with that, you were left alone near the checkout station of your favorite record shop, with the number of a really handsome guy who was off-limits.

the break ended, and you were back at school. the bell rang, signaling the start of lunch. you packed your bag and headed toward the cafeteria to meet up with your friends. when you arrived, you could see your friend group sitting at your usual table.

“hey, everyone.” you greet them, sitting near belle. you unpack your lunch, listening to the conversation flowing around you. belle was excitedly talking about some new drama she started, while minju scrolled through her phone, occasionally nodding. across from you, gyuvin and taesan were locked in some silly debate about whether mint chocolate was a real ice cream flavor or not. the usual chaos filled the cafeteria—laughter, the clatter of trays, and distant complaints about break ending too soon.

just as you were about to take a bite of your food, minju nudged your arm. “so,” she started, “did you end up getting your album?”

you put your chopsticks down. “yeah, why?”

belle perked up. “wait, didn’t you say jungwon was there too?”

at the mention of the guy’s name, minju sighed dramatically. “ugh, don’t remind me. of course he was. he is everywhere. seeing him at school and family gatherings is enough for me, but no, of course not.” she complained further, making belle laugh.

taesan, who was half-listening, raised an eyebrow. “jungwon, as in your cousin yang jungwon?”

minju sighed again. “yes.”

gyuvin smirked, leaning toward your side with curiosity. “this kinda sounds like a wattpad story. you and jungwon at the record shop? what happened?”

you shrugged, not wanting to give details. “nothing much, we just ran into each other,” you say, leaving out the arcade and the bet. technically, you didn’t lie—you did run into each other.

minju scoffed. “yeah, and he used his annoying charm, didn’t he?”

belle grinned. “that explains why y/n looked a little flustered.”

you decided to ignore her comment, but the way minju stared at you made you shift uncomfortably.

before she could interrogate you further, a new presence approached the table.

jungwon.

your breath hitched as he casually walked past, chatting with some of his friends, some of whom you recognized. jungwon didn’t stop, but as he passed, his gaze found a way to you—just for a second. a glance and a knowing smirk.

your stomach did a weird flip.

taesan must have noticed because he nudged you with his elbow. “uh-oh. what was that?”

you quickly shake your head. “nothing.”

minju, however, caught on immediately. “y/n.”

you ignore her, suddenly finding your lunch very interesting.

but your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you had a guess who that was.

jungwon: hope you’re not backing out of our deal, pretty girl :)

you locked your phone, hoping no one saw that message.

yeah… this was going to be a problem.

if before you never noticed jungwon at school, now it’s a different story.

minju was right—he is everywhere. you go to the vending machine? he is there. go to your locker to grab a textbook? jungwon is across from you, near his own locker. even in the cafeteria, he always seems to find a way to sneak a glance at you. what’s worse? he makes it obvious. always smirking at you, showing off his dimples. at times, texting you compliments, reminding you of your promise to get coffee with him.

now, as you come out of the teachers’ lounge after discussing your projects with the physics teacher, you really hope not to bump into jungwon.

but luck is not on your side.

as you step out of the teachers’ lounge, you barely take a few steps before a familiar figure casually leans against the wall beside you.

“took you long enough.”

you blink at jungwon, who’s watching you with his signature smirk. “were you waiting for me?”

he shrugs. “let’s say i had a feeling you’d pass by here.”

you cross your arms, raising a brow. “and why exactly would you wait for me?”

“well, i think someone still owes me coffee.” he tilts his head, pretending to be in deep thought.

you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “i didn’t forget.”

“good, because i was starting to think you were trying to escape from our little deal.”

you scoff. “please, if i wanted to, you wouldn’t even see me.”

jungwon chuckled, clearly amused. “is that right? guess i’ll have to keep an eye on you.”

he steps back, shuffling his hands into his pockets as he starts to walk down the hall. “meet me at the front gate after school, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah. don’t be late.”

he grins. “i should be the one saying that, pretty.”

and with that, he disappears into the crowd, leaving you standing there, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck.

but someone noticed the blush on your ears, and they weren’t overjoyed with it.

minju and you had been friends since middle school. she truly cared about you, thought of you as her best friend. but as she watched your interaction with her cousin, she couldn’t help but feel the disappointment creeping in.

she wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much—maybe it was the way jungwon looked at you, like he already had you all figured out. or maybe it was the way you looked back at him, the kind of gaze she had never seen you give anyone.

minju had always been protective of you—it was a responsibility she felt. she had been by your side for years. through every bad grade, every family argument, every late-night conversation about life. you were her person, and she assumed she was yours too.

but now, watching her cousin tease you with his shameless smirk, watching you try to stop the smile from appearing on your face, she felt like someone had stabbed her with the sharpest knife.

it wasn’t jealousy, as she thought. she didn’t really care about jungwon chatting with her friends, but the thought of him stepping into the space she always thought was only hers, the thought of you abandoning her for her cousin—made her stomach twist in pain.

she knew how jungwon could effortlessly pull people in with his natural confidence, and she knew you too, how easily you could be swayed with kindness.

was she overreacting? maybe, but as she caught the faintest blush on the tips of your ears, she couldn’t shake the feeling that made her feel horrible.

and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

the afternoon sun hung low as you stepped out of the school grounds, only to be met with a familiar smirk. jungwon was already waiting, leaning against the fence, looking too pleased with himself.

“thought you’d run off and break our promise,” he teased.

you rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips twitched. “you wish. i take my debts very seriously.”

“so buying me a coffee is a debt now?” he raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.

“you practically scammed me into doing this.”

jungwon let out a laugh, his dimples showing. “and yet here you are, willingly taking me to the café. interesting, isn’t it?”

you didn’t have a comeback for that, so you stayed silent, making him chuckle as he opened the café door for you.

you both walked to the counter to make your orders.

“i’ll have a peach iced tea, please,” you ordered your usual.

jungwon hummed, looking at you with an amused expression. “peach iced tea, huh? didn’t think you’d be the sweet type.”

you almost looked offended. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he grinned, turning to the barista. “i’ll have an iced americano. card, please.”

you blinked. “wait, what?”

jungwon shrugged, handing over his card before you could protest. “consider it a treat. since, you know, you’re already so sweet.” his tone was playful, but the smile told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

you groaned, hiding the warmth creeping up your face. “you’re impossible.”

he simply laughed, nudging your arm lightly as you both stepped aside to wait for your drinks.

you didn’t think jungwon would be an interesting person to talk to.

yeah, he made you feel something, but you just brushed it off as pointless flirting.

but as the conversation between the two of you kept going, you realized there was more to him than just smooth lines and smug grins. he was funny—witty in a way that kept you on your toes. he listened, asked questions, and actually seemed interested in your rants about movies, books, music—whatever else slipped past your lips.

at some point, you caught yourself not hiding the smiles anymore, leaning in a little closer. it was easy—too easy—to get comfortable around him.

still, you reminded yourself: it was just playful banter. nothing more, nothing less.

at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

as the evening settled in, you and jungwon stepped out of the café. the cool air was a stark contrast to the warmth of your conversation. the streets were quieter, bathed in the golden light of street lamps.

“you didn’t have to walk me back, you know,” you said, glancing at him.

“i wanted to.”

you didn’t protest, secretly enjoying the way his presence made the walk feel shorter, lighter—better. the conversation continued, usual teasing remarks mixed with moments of quiet comfort. by the time you reached your doorstep, an unfamiliar hesitation lingered between you two.

“well,” you started, gripping the strap of your bag. “thanks. i had fun today.”

jungwon grinned, but this time, there was no smugness behind it. his smile felt softer. “me too. see you tomorrow?”

you nodded, stepping inside, giving him a little wave he reciprocated. when the door clicked shut, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

as jungwon walked away from your house, the usual confidence in his steps faltered. the night air felt heavier, and for the first time in a while, he found himself deep in thought.

at first, it was fun—teasing you, watching you get flustered, sneaking in compliments just to see your reaction. it was easy, something he never took seriously.

but now?

now there was this unknown feeling in his chest, one he didn’t understand. the way you laughed, the way your eyes lit up as you ranted about your favorite songs, the way you looked at him when you thought he didn’t notice—it all replayed in his mind, like an arctic monkeys album on repeat.

he liked you.

the realization hit him. it was both exciting and terrifying because it wasn’t harmless flirting anymore. it wasn’t a game anymore.

and suddenly, fear crept in—the fear of messing up, of ruining the dynamic you already had, of what minju would think, of what you would think if you found out how he was starting to care.

with a sigh, he pulled out his phone, hesitating before typing a message. but in the end, he deleted it, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he continued walking.

for now, he’d play it safe.

but he knew these feelings weren’t going to disappear anytime soon.

minju has been acting weird. not in a way that it’s obvious to everyone—she still laughed at gyuvin’s dumb jokes and rolled her eyes when taesan ranted about some rock band he had a hyper fixation on. but with you, something shifted.

she didn’t text as often, and when she did, her replies seemed distant and dry. at lunch, she still sat beside you, but the stiffness in her posture gave out how she was forcing herself to act normal.

you had a guess it was about jungwon, but there was no direct proof. she hadn’t said anything, nor confronted you. she hadn’t even mentioned his name. when you caught her looking at you, you could see an unreadable emotion—something about it pained you so much, no words would be able to explain it.

the worst part about it all—she pretended everything was normal, when it was clear as hell it was not.

did she think you wouldn’t notice?

you had enough.

after a week of minju’s distant behavior—short replies, the forced smiles, all the excuses—you could not take it anymore.

so when the last class of the day ended, before she could storm off as she did the past week, you gathered up all the courage you had and reached for her wrist.

“minju, wait.”

she froze for a second, carefully turning to you, her expression blank. “what?”

you exhaled, steadying yourself. “can we talk?”

you could recognize slight hesitation in her eyes. but then she sighed, pulling her wrist from your hold. “okay.”

you didn’t miss the way her shoulders tensed, she already knew what you were about to say.

as the teacher stepped out of the classroom, leaving you two completely alone, you opened your mouth to say something—but nothing comes out. the guarded look on minju’s face made you hesitate.

still, you pressed further. “minju… have i done something wrong?”

her brows furrowed, like she did not expect that. “what do you mean?”

“you have been avoiding me—barely talking, no daily update texts, you don’t even look at me!” you said it all in one breath. “please, tell me if i have done something wrong.”

she scoffed, shaking her head. “you didn’t do anything.”

“that doesn’t sound really convincing.”

she exhaled heavily, gripping the strap of her backpack. “i just—” she stopped herself, biting her bottom lip, before muttering, “nevermind, it’s nothing.”

you frowned. “it is if it’s making you act like this.”

she looked conflicted, her fingers twitched, like she wanted to grab something, maybe steady herself. then, she let out a humorless chuckle.

“you really don’t get it, do you?”

you raised your eyebrow, signaling her to elaborate.

minju sighed. it wasn’t her usual frustrated huff, it was heavier, emotionally deeper.

“it’s jungwon.”

you blinked. “jungwon?”

she nodded, letting out a breath she was holding. “you and him. i see the way you two are.”

you looked at her confused, not exactly understanding what she meant.

she looked at you, her eyes did not hold any frustration behind them, they were hurt.

“i hate it.” her hands clenched at her sides. “i hate seeing you with him. i hate that your smile is brighter with him rather than me.”

your breath hitched at her sudden confession. “minju…”

“i know i shouldn’t feel this way, i know it’s selfish,” she continued, her voice wavering. “but i can’t help it. you were my best friend. and now—” she swallowed hard.

“now, i feel like i’m losing you.”

you could feel your heart ache. minju had always been at your side, and you’re making her feel like this.

you took a step closer, taking her hand. “ju…”

she shook her head, wiping a few stray tears with her free hand. “i just don’t want you to leave me behind.”

you hesitated, guilt twisting inside you. fidgeting with your fingers, you remembered all the times minju had been distant lately, the way she avoided you, the way warmth in her was replaced by something unfamiliar, colder. it wasn’t about jungwon. it was about you. about her. about the space growing between you.

you couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her more than you already did.

your arms flung around her, hugging her tightly. you whispered, “i won’t see him anymore.”

minju’s eyes widened. “what?”

“if it brings you that much pain… i’ll stop.”

for a moment, she stared at you, as if she didn’t believe you. then her lips parted slightly, letting out a shaky breath.

“…thank you,” she whispered, hugging you back.

you gave her a small smile, as you continued to hold her. but deep down, you felt something twist painfully.

you ignored the feeling, because if staying away from jungwon would fix things, then that’s what you will do.

you will keep your distance. you will ignore the way your heart pulled you in the opposite direction.

making things right with minju was what mattered the most.

but as you held her, a storm of emotions burst inside you, and you couldn’t ignore the feeling that this decision would leave a crack in your heart that might never heal.

that night, as you lied in bed, the weight of your promise crashed on you like a big pile of stones. every time you closed your eyes, you saw jungwon’s smile — the way his dimples would appear when he teased you, the way his eyes softened when you reacted to it. you tried to push these thoughts away, telling yourself it was for minju, but to no avail. the harder you tried to fight it, the more his face lingered in your brain. was this really the right thing to do?

you decided to scroll through your chat with him — for the last time, before everything comes to an end. going back to older texts, you stared at your phone, that one message glowing on the screen: “hope you’re not backing out of our deal, pretty girl”. a smile tugged at your lips, before quickly wiping it away, remembering minju’s tear-strained face. she was—is your best friend—your person. you had to fulfill what you promised. but then why did it hurt so much, even from a mere thought of letting jungwon go?

you decided to go wash up, maybe a cold shower will freshen you up.

that’s what you thought.

the cold water hit your skin, sharp and biting, but it did little to wash away the mess in your mind. you stood there, letting the water hit you, hoping that it would drown out the thoughts about jungwon. but instead, it only made them louder. overwhelming thoughts clouded your mind. what if this was all a mistake? your—whatever it is—with jungwon. maybe he really didn’t care about you, maybe he was just bored and decided to play with you. but then you remembered the way he looked at you — like you were the only one in the whole world. undoubtedly, jungwon made you feel like it. you remember the way his hand held yours back in the arcade — warm and steady, like the tickling of a clock. even now, you swore you could still feel it, under the icy stream, the ghost of his touch hugged your fingers.

was it possible to miss someone that much?

after what you thought would be a refreshing shower, your mind never cleared up. changing into pjs and trying to sleep—uncountable attempts at emptying your head and tossing and turning in your bed.

concluding that trying to fall asleep was pointless, you went to your small balcony, the cramped comfortable place with a small couch. you always liked it, the way the city noise faded into distant hums, the way the sofa would cradle you when everything was too heavy.

you hugged you knees to your chest, looking up at the star-filled night sky, the cool air brushing against your skin. the familiar comfort of the balcony couldn’t help with the ache in your heart. why did it have to be like this? why did you have to choose between the person who was always there for you and the person who made your heart race in a way that you’d never felt before?

life is so unfair.

you knew that the next day would be challenging. you woke up earlier than usual, just so you wouldn’t bump into jungwon at your locker, just so you didn’t have to regret the decision.

one thing you were grateful for—jungwon wasn’t in your class. belle and gyuvin were—they helped you to empty your mind, they made things so much easier for you. at that moment you silently thanked them for being there.

during lunch, you sat at your usual table, forcing a smile as belle and gyuvin had a heated debate over something silly again. minju was next to you, her laugh ringing out as she teased gyuvin for his unluckiness. she was looking better, happier.

she gave you hope that everything might be okay. when she noticed you looking down, which she always did, she took a hold of your hand, squeezing it lightly. you looked at her, smiling and squeezing her hand back, signaling that everything was okay.

it was a lie.

you noticed jungwon coming closer to your location with your peripheral vision and you couldn’t stop yourself from looking, but you had to. you could since the way his gaze lingered on you for a second too long. you couldn’t reciprocate it, you shouldn’t. so you didn’t, you simply ignored him, rather engaging in a chat with your friends about who knows what.

this choices pained you, but you didn’t pay attention to it. thinking everything will be alright as long as you don’t acknowledge it. just to make sure, you squeezed the hand in your again, hoping the gesture would help to relax, but all it did was remind you of the promise that could be broken with a single glance.

it will be fine.

that’s the phrase you kept telling yourself, over and over, like a mantra. but as you sat there, surrounded by your friends, their laughter and chatting filling the air, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were lying to yourself and everyone else. you didn’t wanna believe it, refusing to accept your own thoughts. everything will become easier.

right?

the rest of the day passed in a blur. everything was as usual—you answered some questions in class, nodding along your conversations, even laughing at the right moments. you tried to delude yourself into thinking that everything was fine, and you almost succeeded. in the back of your mind, thoughts about jungwon still lingered.

when the last bell rang, you let out the sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding. you hurried back to your locker, you had to go home as quicker as possible, you didn’t want to encounter with anyone. but to your luck, fate had other plans for you.

“hey”

the familiar tone of his voice made you freeze. slowly closing the door to your locker, you stepped back, to make the distance a little bit longer between you two, as it didn’t feel as an enormous canyon already.

as your gaze met his, for the first time today, you were stunned. there he was in all his glory — jungwon. he was casually leaning against the lockers, hands holding his backpack.

“you’ve been avoiding me” the way he said this was light, but it carried something heavy, his eyes tell everything.

you open your mouth to deny, but you can’t. because its true. you have been avoiding him. you did everything just to not interact with him. suddenly, you can’t look him at the eyes, unable to focus on anything, your eyes run across the hall, just to find something. anything.

“is everything alright?” his soft, somewhat scared tone made your eyes flicker to him again. this time, he wasn’t looking at you, instead, he stared at the floor beneath him.

if the smirk that had a place on his face at the start of the conversation, now it disappeared. his face carried so many emotions, but one stood out the most.

fear.

this is the first time you see him like this, the confident, cocky jungwon, was now too scared to look at your eyes, asking such a simple, but at the same time difficult question. you didn’t know what to do.

one part of your mind whispered—to apologize for ignoring him, to hug and to comfort him. you want to say that you didn’t want to make him feel like this. but on the other hand, someone screams at you to go away, to stop seeing him, to tell him to block your number. and the one thing that pulls you to do so, is the promise between you and minju.

you never have broken your promises, never. even in the third grade when you got one C, you promised your parents to get 100 in all the classes next semester. that you did, even when you were sure that they wouldn’t mind if you got less. even in the 7th grade, when you promised to bake cookies for all your friends, with zero knowledge of baking. you still did it, even if the taste wasn’t that amazing. you still did it.

you can’t break the promise you made yesterday, the promise to your beloved best friend.

what you were about to do will hurt you, and you will definitely regret it, but it just had to be done.

“lets stop this” you say sternly, trying to hide away all the pain that your own decision brought you, hoping that it will ease the impact on jungwon, fully knowing that it wont.

“what?” his head shot up, a surprised look evident on his face. for a moment, he just stared at you, as if waiting for you to laugh and say it was a joke. but that moment didn’t come, his expression shifted, confusion and hurt played on his face, along with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.his eyebrows furrowed, “are you serious?”, his voice cracking slightly.

you just nod your head, despite the storm and explosions inside your brain. fixing the bag strap on your shoulder, you just walk away, like it didn’t bother you, like you didn’t care about the record shop, arcade, cafe, like every his message didn’t bring you joy, like you didn’t care about him.

each step was heavier than the last one, you could feel the way he stared at you from behind, even when you wanted to, you wouldn’t dare to meet his eyes. if you did, you were sure you’d break.

tears welled up in your eyes. you want to apologize, want to say that it was just a stupid prank. but you couldn’t. not even for him.

as you walked away from the school grounds, you let tears spill, not able hold them back anymore. you wiped them away, but they kept coming, they were serving a reminder of what you just did, what you just lost.

as you walked home, the weight of your decision settled with unexplainable pain in your chest, a constant sickness that didn’t fade.

when jungwon arrived home after that night, he started thinking immediately.

should he confess or should he wait? if the first, then how? where? with flowers? with a plushie? with a vinyl?

as he thought about these, the moments of your talk flickered in his memory. not wanting to forget a single detail, jungwon grabs his notepad and writes down everything he remembers.

even after scribbling down his thoughts, his heart didn’t calm down—it still raced, he couldn’t understand, it was the first time he felt this way, he didn’t think that someone would be able to make his stomach flip with every emotion known to the world. he leaned back in his chair, spinning mindlessly around his room as different outcomes played in his mind. he was fed up with all this overthinking.

he should rest.

that’s the conclusion he came to. jungwon rushed to the shower, turned up the coldest temperature and screamed in terror.

that’s not what you do, idiot

after adjusting the temperature, he basked in the comfortable rain, calming down his mind and heart. that night he slept almost worry-free.

the week went smoothly, usual eye contact with you at lunches became something more, little waves joining the routine. jungwon tried to talk with you during breaks more too, finding you at your locker or vending machine in the backyard of the school campus.

sometimes you would share short jokes with each other, laughing quietly. the other, you would get to know each other more, playing 21 questions, this way jungwon was able to show you the picture of maeumi and find out that you adore dogs, especially the small ones. that small fact brought a smile on his face, he started to imagine the walks that you two would go on, he’d bring maeumi along, and you would have a nice picnic date, maybe.

he was quickly snapped back into reality with your next question, pretending that he didn’t just imagine how you would intertwine hands.

one time, you were quiet with each other. it could’ve been awkward, but it wasn’t, it was comforting actually. the wind gently blowing on you, carrying faint noise from other classes along. you two would just laugh at that while making eye contact.

everything seemed to go smoothly, jungwon was already brainstorming ideas for his confession—already sure with his choice. there was just one question left to ask: what is your favorite arctic monkeys song.

and he was sure that today he would ask it.

the morning went as usual, he got up, brushed his teeth, got dressed and went to school. his first period was math, but even that couldn’t ruin his mindset, which wasn’t unnoticed by his friend, sunoo.

“what’s up with you today? you’re never this hyped for mr. lee’s class”, he asked, looking at jungwon like he grew 2 heads.

“it’s nothing, just have big plans” and that he did, jungwon planned to take you to the vinyl shop where you met during the break. listen to some albums and ask you the question he badly needed an answer to.

“something related to y/n?” sunoo asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

instead of a response, jungwon just smiled, the red cheeks answered for him. and when he heard the giggle his classmate made, the blush only deepened.

up until lunch, jungwon couldn’t contain the happiness he had, smiling through all his classes, even through chemistry. his classmates looked at him like a maniac, i mean, who smiles during organic chemistry explanation?

he didn’t care about all that tho, all he wanted is to see you at lunch, look at your eyes and smile.

when he met up with jay near the cafeteria, he knew that they would pass your usual table, he mentally prepared himself for that moment.

he walked in your direction, that way, you would face each other perfectly, and when he almost waved, you refused to meet his gaze, preferring to engage in a conversation with your friends.

the smile on jungwons face immediately faltered. he felt an instant drop in his chest, confusion overtook his expression, if the cafeteria wasn’t so crowded, he would definitely stand like a deer.

jays arm was placed on his back so he would continue walking, and jungwon couldn’t help but submit. a wave of emotions struck him. what was that just now?

he could only keep walking, but the only thing replaying on his mind was how you turned away from him. over and over.

did i imagine that? maybe y/n just didn’t see me, yea that has to be it.

he tried to reason with his own brain, but the more he thinks about the interaction, the more doubt he has. you looked at everyone else, hell, jungwon swore, you looked at his direction for a millisecond. you saw him, you just—chose not to.

the weird feeling appeared in his stomach, not the one from before, no. it didn’t make him giggly and happy, instead, it made him sorrowful, doubtful.

jays words don’t even make sense now, jungwon can’t hear them, all he can think about is: what did i do wrong?

when he met up with his other friends, his mind was somewhere else, he didn’t answer their questions, he couldn’t even hear them, he was deeply immersed in his own thoughts. every single possibility crossing his mind. he had to ask you what was that.

after lunch, he could not focus. if in the morning it was because of the happiness that distracted him, now it was the misery casting upon him. he had to get out of this class immediately. jungwon counted seconds until the bell. and when finally it rang—he ran to the backyard with all his strength. he doesn’t mind his friends who look at him confused, he has to go to your spot. and when he arrives—

nothing.

jungwon is met with emptiness of the backyard, if you wanted to come here, then you would, your classroom was literally a minute away, unlike his. but you didn’t.

you’re not near the vending machine, not sitting on the bench, and you’re not even crouched down in the corner where you two would usually sit.

then it hits him. it’s not a coincidence.

you’re avoiding him.

jungwon just stands there, not knowing what to do. he takes in the silence—the emptiness. the place that was associated with warmth was colder than any winter.

now he must talk to you. he checks his watch, it was 2 minutes before the bell on the last lesson. he had no choice but to come back. when his friends tried to question him, jungwon just shrugged, signaling that he didn’t want to answer anything.

he just has to wait for another hour. damn it.

when that painfully long 60 minutes passed, jungwon stuffed all his things into his backpack, not caring if it was messy, which was unlike him, he always made sure that his notebooks are all organized. the mess in his head made his actions look chaotic.

when he arrived at the lockers, he saw you. rushing to put all your textbooks in a tiny blue locker. why were you in such a hurry? is it because you didn’t want to see him?

jungwon shakes his head, there was no time to overthink, he just had to ask, you were right here, in front of him.

as he tried to calm his mind down, you were almost done. he leaned against the lockers, almost whispering:

“hey”

jungwon could see you stop in your movements, this little detail made his heart sink, his hands gripping the backpack strap so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

as you carefully close your locker and take a step back, which breaks his heart, you finally look at him, at that moment, jungwon felt mute, he couldn’t get any words out of his mouth, and he had plenty. he wanted to curse at you, question you, adore you, but all that he is able to muster out is — “you’ve been avoiding me”

you look stunned, like you didn’t expect that question, but quickly that expression transformed into one of regret? that only made jungwon more curious at what you had to say. he felt despair, he was dying to know what prompted such behavior from you.

after noticing how your orbs scanned through the school hall, he couldn’t continue looking at you, instead, shifting his gaze to the floor, wishing that it would swallow him as a whole. “is everything alright?”, he manages to whisper.

few seconds later, which felt like an eternity, you look at him, with a stare so harsh, that it felt like a hit by a metal bat.

“let’s stop this” you say, and jungwon can’t believe his ears. his breath got caught in his throat. you didn’t have to specify what you meant by ‘this’. it was obvious, you both acknowledged the growing tension between the two of you.

he felt like a deer in headlights. “are you serious?” he asks, because he feels like you’re joking. he is waiting for you to laugh at him, to point his expression, just say something, anything.

but you don’t, you just nod, rubbing salt into the wound. and when it couldn’t get worse, it did. you turned away and walked away. just walked away. the ache in his chest spread all over.

jungwon felt devastated. after everything — you just turn away from him? he wants to cry, to break down, but doesn’t find any strength in himself to do so.

he just watches your figure slowly disappear when you walk towards the direction of your home.

you cried the whole evening.

when you just got home, you broke down, disturbing everyone present. your mom looked so heartbroken at the sight of her daughter in such misery. and she couldn’t do anything but give you a comforting hug and offer your favorite tea, which was enough.

your dad decided to give you space, which you were grateful for. you didn’t know what to do and what to think. you just…had no idea.

even your older brother gave you some space by not teasing you for your tears, feeling that it was something serious.

when you went up to your room, you dropped your bag, which resulted in a loud noise, but you paid no mind to it, you just wanted to cry.

not bothering to change out of your school uniform, you collapsed onto your bed. the dampness of your pillowcase only reminded you the reason why you were crying.

jungwon.

the way he looked so hopeful, but so doubtful at the same time. visions of him only strengthened the flow of your emotions.

you want to apologize, to call him, to confess in everything you felt, how he made your heart race, or how you couldn’t think straight way back when you two met at the photobooth.

and then you remember minju. how happy she looked, like she was released from the heaviest load. or how she looked when she admitted her feelings, how much stress she buried within herself.

all these overwhelming feelings made you tremble. your fingers curled into the fabric of your jacket, gripping it so it could somehow steady you, like it could calm down the storm in your mind. you tried to take a deep breath, but it only made everything worse—you could smell the scent of cinnamon of your shampoo, the one that jungwon teased you for all the time.

you exhaled. shaky and unsteady.

why did it feel like this?

every time you though of him—his eyes searching yours in the sea of others, his smile with unforgettable dimples, that made you giggle too—it felt like a weight pressuring down on you. you squeezed your eyes shut in attempt to forget those memories, but they clung to you, like lyrics of the song you loved.

you had done the right thing.

then why was the pain so sharp?

monday was a dread. the start of the work week, the sudden change in the sleeping schedule and an overwhelming amount of tasks and responsibilities weighing over you.

but this week, it’s even worse. because this week, you had to face him again.

you still weren’t over the emotions that consumed you over the weekends, still feeling regret, melancholy and sorrow. and that showed in your academics. you had no energy to even talk, there’s no need to mention solving an equation at the board.

thanks to your good reputation, teachers decided to let you rest, that you needed. honestly, you wouldn’t have come to school, if not for the physics quiz, but there is one.

your friends—belle and gyuvin—seemed really worried, asking you numerous questions about your well being. you didn’t wanna explain, so you just said that you didn’t sleep well. an excuse that works all the time.

you felt bad for lying, but you felt that the moment his name will leave your lips, you would break down in tears, not wanting to embarrass yourself further, you saved yourself the trouble.

your look hasn’t changed at all when it was lunchtime. barely making your way to the cafeteria, dragging your legs across the floor. when you did arrive there, you felt overwhelmed, your mind clouded with scrabbled thoughts, and suddenly, it was getting harder to breathe.

trying to compose yourself, you get to your usual lunch table where everyone else were waiting. plumping yourself on the seat and greeting others, you pick on your food, having no appetite, even though you haven’t had breakfast in the morning.

all the words don’t make sense, whatever minju is telling you, it goes into one ear and leaves through the other, you can’t focus on anything.

the struggle to breathe came back. dropping your utensils, you grab your head, not being able to deal with all these noises. you could feel tears forming in your eyes, daring to roll down. the heartbeat went far away from normal.

this is not you, focus y/n

you try to tell yourself, but to no avail. you could feel like the control of your body slipped away from your grasp.

suddenly, there was a sharp sensation, someone is trying to wake you up, shaking you. its minju.

“y/n? y/n! Y/N?”

it is definitely her. her voice stands out from the crowd. you could finally see what’s happening around you, blurry, but good enough.

“follow me. inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale” minju repeated worryingly, imitating what she meant.

you did as she asked, inhale and exhale, and repeat.

feeling the warmth of the real world, you gasp, your hands quickly taking ahold of whatever first came into contact, which happened to be your best friend’s arms.

“y/n! are you alright? what happened?” all the eyes were on you, staring into your soul.

“i…don’t know, i juts lost myself for a second, i guess…”

“come with me, ill walk you to the nurses office” minju says and immediately brings you up, giving you no room to refuse.

having no choice, you follow her, hoping to get a little bit of silent time.

jungwon watched this unfold from few meters away.

the moment he saw you, tirelessly dragging yourself to your friends, he couldn’t tear away his gaze from you, not even the pain you brought stopped him. he just knew that something was wrong.

when the faint sound of chopsticks falling onto the table could be heart, he became tense, stopped eating himself.

the tears that formed at your eyes made his eyes widen, and his posture weird, like he wanted to stand up and come to you.

jungwon’s fingers twitched against the table, he couldn’t, he shouldn’t, but he wanted to.

while he was in the internal conflict, his body moved up on its own, but not making more moves, like testing his limits, if he can hold himself back.

but his mind was too slow. his own cousin was already helping you, trying to snap you back into reality. he could feel his chest tighten at the sight.

was it jealousy? was it sorrow? maybe both? jungwon didn’t know, only you were on his mind.

how he hates to see you in pain and how you pained him. the contrast was overwhelming, but before he could even decide what to do, you were walking away, in the arms of minju.

what was he supposed to do? was he supposed to do anything? questions filled his mind.

he didn’t even notice how he sat back, his mind being too clouded.

jungwon hopes he will have a chance to know if you’re well.

the moment you lied down on the bed in the nurses office —you fell into a deep slumber, having no worry in the world, it might have seemed like that, but it was actually the opposite. the overwhelming amount of things that clouded your mind made you pass out.

to be frank, the sleep was nice. but the sound of someone calling your name disturbed it.

and just like that, you were woken up and met with the face of your own mom.

she sweetly said: “sweetie, i’m here to pick you up. your homeroom teacher told me what happened. are you okay?”

“im fine now. what time is it?” you answer her, scratching your head, ignoring the mess that formed there.

she looked at her watch and looked back at you. “2:30, you won’t miss much, don’t worry”

“alright, should we go now?” you stand up on your feet, holding her hand.

your mother just nodded at you, saying goodbye to the nurse.

when she finished filling out the form, she took ahold of your shoulders, as to steady you.

“im alright mom, i wont fall”

“better be safe than sorry” she said softly, but worry was evident in her voice.

“if that makes you feel better”

as you both sat down in the car, the feeling of drowsiness appeared again. the drive to your house was not short, so you decided to sleep for a bit. your mind was clear as day, like it was washed, which is so unusual for you, especially in the past few days.

when you arrive at the house, you decided to check your phone, several messages appeared, some from social media, some from other stuff, and a lot from the specific group chat.

it was your friend group chat — and multiple messages made it clear that you made them worry a lot.

minju: y/n pls text when you’re feeling better :(

belle: yes! and don’t forget to drink lots of water and rest a bunch TT

taesan: belle is right, you should rest. don’t come to school tmrw

gyuvin: you made us worried bro 😭 don’t scare us like that the next time

smiling at their care, you quickly type a response.

you: sorry everyone! thank you for all the support, and i don’t think ill come tmrw either TT

you: im alright now tho, just gonna rest a lot lol

a few bubbles appear immediately, wishing you a good rest, and saying that you should take better care of yourself.

you reacted to their messages, silently promising that you will do as they said.

putting your phone on the charger, you change into more comfortable clothes and go back to your bed, ready to make up for missing sleep the past week.

tuesday, you, as promised, didn't show up. minju was glad that you let yourself rest, even if it’s just for a day. she was worried about you after all, it wasn't like you to have a panic attack in the middle of lunch.

it was boring though. usually, you’re the one who agrees with minju, the one who would listen to her. it’s not like the others won’t, but it just wasn’t the same.

“whatever,” minju thought. “at least i leave early today”

today was some kind of a family event at her house, her mom loved inviting guests over. jungwon will be there too. minju didn't feel anger as she usually does, talking with you helped a lot more than she thought.

after the fourth period, right before lunch, minju was already packing her bag. as she walked to the gates, she noticed a familiar figure waiting there.

“jungwon?” minju asked, when she was close enough.

the said boy turned around to face her, he didn't seem surprised though, like he was waiting for her.

“oh, hey. my mom will be here soon”

“huh? auntie is picking me up?” minju was surprised to hear that, as she wasn’t notified of this.

jungwon looked at her weirdly, raising one of his brows. “yea? pretty sure, your mom texted you about this.”

minju immediately checked her phone—taking it from her pocket—and jungwon was right. there was a message from her mother that minju will be picked up from school.

“oh.”

awkwardness filled the air; it was weird, the two of them got along just well, playfully bantering, but supporting each other when needed.

“are you alright? you seem pretty out of it” minju broke the silence, genuinely worried for his well-being.

“huh? oh yeah, just fine” he replied, his words trailing off into something barely audible.. “um,” jungwon hesitated.

“is y/n good…?” the question was asked impulsively, jungwon was surprised himself.

minju looked at him weirdly. “yes, she is. why do you care?” the previous awkwardness shifted into something more sharp and stern. friendliness slowly disappearing.

“i guess, i was worried. looked like she was having a hard time yesterday.” he didn't mind minju’s tone, like it was normal for her, which it kinda was.

their one-sided tension was interrupted by the sound of a car honk. it was jungwon’s mom.

“hey, you two! get in! we’re already late!”

the two teenagers looked in her direction and sprinted off to the vehicle. both of them got into the backseat, on the opposite sides. while minju was talking with her auntie, jungwon decided to wear his headphones and tune into his world of music.

when they arrived to park household, minju and miss yang went to the kitchen to help minju’s mom, while jungwon went upstairs to minju’s room.

“you can go to my room” he recalls her saying.

as he walks in, jungwon is met with a splash of sky blue. her bed is made, with different jellycats on top of it, near it, minju’s desk stands, different makeup tools and school stuff lay on it. but jungwon’s attention goes to the board above her desk. different polaroids and photobooth photos are there, but his gaze is fixed on only one.

three photos with you and minju. you look exactly the same as the day when he first met you. the same sweater, hairstyle and lipgloss.

jungwon’s eyes widened. he doesn't know why. he is aware that you’re best friends with his cousin, so why did his chest tighten?

he still likes you.

that’s right. he still does. even after you said that you gave to stop seeing each other, his feelings still lingered.

“hey jungwon, you should go downst-”

minju stopped in her tracks when she sees her cousin staring at her board with pictures. her eyes immediately landed on what he's staring at—those pictures.

“oh, yeah, lets g-” he didn’t have time to finish his sentence as the sudden door slam scared him.

“what’s up with you? first you ask about y/n, and now you’re staring at her photos? didn't i tell you to stop whatever you're planning?” annoyance was evident in minju’s voice. she hated the fact that jungwon looked like he cared about you, minju knew he didn’t, she hoped he didn’t.

jungwon's chest tightened, his hands formed fists as a habit whenever anyone raised their voice at him.

"what are you talking about?" his voice was quite, but sharp.

minju scoffed at his ignorance. “don't play dumb, jungwon. you know exactly what im talking about. its y/n”

his jaw clenched. the sound of her name felt like a hit in the ribs. “what? i can't ask if she’s okay now?” he tried to play it cool, he didn't want to show his vulnerability.

minju let out a dry laugh. “you don’t get to pretend like you care.”

jungwon couldn’t believe what was he hearing now, he can’t back down now, that’s for sure. “you think i was, am pretending this whole time?”

minju was stubborn, her knuckles turned white. “then explain, why did she stop talking to you, huh? if you truly cared for her, then she wouldn’t walk away, right?”

jungwon flinched. his heart rate picked up and his fingers curled tighter into his palms.

he has been asking himself the exact same thing.

he sharply exhaled, forcing his voice to stay steady. “how about you tell me?”

minju froze, her eyes widened, her hands relaxed.

her reaction wasn’t unnoticed by jungwon. that’s when the realization hit him.

“so it was you? you told her to do it” his gaze locked on hers—piercing, demanding to confess.

“yea, so? it was the best choice for her” minju snapped, but quickly quieted down, as she started to pick ner nails. nervousness took a hold of her.

jungwon let out another exhale. “you cannot be serious now” he took a step closer. “who are you to decide what’s best for her?”

minju was triggered, she was everything he wasn’t to you. “i am her best friend, who are you to decide that you’re the one who she needs?”

“are you calling yourself her best friend when you can’t even see and value her feelings?”

“I-” minju had no words. he was right, she made you stop talking with him out of her selfishness. she wanted to keep you for herself. she didn’t want jungwon to take you from her. she didn’t want that to happen again.

“yeah, exactly.” he looked at her for one last time before rushing to the front door. he needed some fresh air.

“jungwon? where are you going?” “to the shop, i'll be quick!”

minju could hear voices downstairs, she was completely frozen. she was slapped with realization that she had no right to decide what’s best for you. even if she just wanted you to be happy.

tears formed in her eyes, silently running down her cheeks. minju leaned against her door and plumped on the ground, sobbing inaudibly.

she can’t just do nothing now. she was proven wrong. she hurt two of her closest people. the guilt was eating her alive.

minju stood up and sprinted to the front door, shouting “i’ll be right back!” ignoring the yell from her mom, she had no time, she had to apologize to you.

it’s a 15 minute walk from her house to yours, but she made it in 7. she started ringing your doorbell, even when she was still catching her breath.

“minju? what’s up- what happened?” you opened the door just to be met with your best friend breathing profusely, her face slightly puffy. from the looks of it, she looks like she cried. “did you cry? are you alright?”

when minju calmed down and was able to breath properly, she looked at you straight into the eyes.

“y/n, i-i am sorry. i’m so sorry.” she started apologizing, for what? you had no idea.

your brows furrowed. “huh? minju, why are you apologizing?”

her hands clenched at her sides. she looked like she wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out.

you had never seen her like this before—so frustrated with herself, so shaken.

she swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. “i’m so sorry y/n, it was me”

you were still dumbfounded. “what?”

minju’s voice cracked, but she kept going. “i was the one who made you stop talking with jungwon” she exhaled sharply. “i thought it would be for the best, but it wasn’t. i acted on impulse and because i was selfish. i thought if you and jungwon got close, you wouldn’t need me anymore. i didn’t want you to talk to him because of that, but i never asked you how you felt, and i guess you really like him, maybe i knew it the whole time, but didn’t want to indulge into the thought that i was in the wrong, but it doesn’t matter” she rambled before making a quick pause.

minju’s eyes were glistening again, her voice barely above whisper. “i hurt you both with my actions, and i want to apologize.” she wiped her eyes harshly.

minju took a deep breath and stepped closer, bowing almost 90 degrees. “i know i don’t deserve it-” her voice was raw with emotions. “can you forgive me?”

you listened to all her ramblings, trying to catch everything. and when you did, your mind went blank.

you had tried to justify what you did—tried to convince yourself it was for the best. but now, hearing minju say it out loud, admitting her mistakes, the truth weighed heavier than you had imagined. a moment of silence has passed before you broke it off.

“minju, i forgive you” you replied to her apology. “i understand how you felt, and i guess it was wrong to just randomly start talking with your relative.”

minju stood straight and grabbed your shoulders. “no! it was entirely my fault! i have no right of controlling who you decide to talk to.”

you placed your hands on her own. “i never knew you felt that way. i’m sorry for not noticing.” you bitterly smiled, feeling guilty.

minju hugged you, shuffling her head into your neck. you instinctively hugger her back, her tears dampening your shirt.

“come on, i’ll make you some tea”

you had spent an hour or two calming minju down.

she kept apologizing even after you told her you forgive her.

you listened to her worried and reasons behind her actions, and you never knew that she felt like this.

“you should confess to him, you know?” minju suddenly said, making you almost spit out your tea.

“huh? who said i liked him?” you looked around, like searching for the guilty one.

“it is pretty obvious. you never get flustered around anyone. the only time i remember was back in 8th grade.” she put her head into her head. “was his name jongseob, or something? you liked him a lot” minju reminded you of an old crush, which made you more embarrassed.

“ugh, stop, it’s embarrassing.” you lightly hit her. “i don’t think jungwon even wants to see me now. not after i said all that stuff to him.” tearing your gaze away from her, you looked around.

“you’re kidding. he literally asked me only about you today. ‘is y/n okay?’ ‘is she doing alright’ blah blah blah” she exaggerated even more by showing talking signs with her hands.

you quietly laughed at her antics. “i don’t know. i think he doesn’t want to see me”

“if there’s anyone he doesn’t want to see, it’s me, i promise you” she breathed out. “we got into a fight which resulted in me coming here.”

you looked at her with pity. “sorry, i guess, i am the reason behind it”

“stop. don’t blame yourself. it was all me.” minju looked at you sternly.

“sorry-“ you couldn’t hold yourself.

“stop apologizing! you should fix that habit of yours, it starts to get annoying”

you laughed lightly at her, almost apologizing again.

when minju came back home, everyone was gone. her place was filled with silence.

“oh, minju, where were you? you missed everything” her mothers voice filled the air.

“sorry, i had to do something urgent. has everyone left already?” she quickly made her way to the living room, where her dad was napping and her mom was watching the TV.

“yes, about half an hour ago. did you and jungwon had a fight? he looked pretty sad.”

“uh, yeah, it was my fault. i’ll apologize to him soon, don’t worry” minju felt guilty at the mention of her cousins name.

“i hope so, he looked miserable. you two always got along well too” her mom sighed, “go to sleep, you have school tomorrow”

“alright, good night” minju said as she went upstairs.

“good night!”

the next day, you didn’t have any trouble with breathing nor steadying yourself. you were just nervous. in the morning, minju pulled you aside, telling you that you need to confess to jungwon today.

after that, your focus was shifted to something else. how will he react after seeing you? to you confessing? will he reciprocate? will he reject you? all kinds of thoughts filled your mind up until lunch.

you wanted to look for him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. when you felt his presence near, you quietly turned your head to look at him, just to find him already looking at you.

kathump.

the feeling in your chest was back. your heart rate sped up again.

a light hit made you snap back, it was minju, she wore a teasing smile that literally said “i told you so”

your mind went back to that interaction the rest of the day. you couldn’t stop thinking about it. but when it was the time to talk to him, you were ready to go straight home.

you were scared. when minju noticed your hesitance, she slightly pushed you.

“your prince charming is waiting, look” she pointed at the direction where jungwon stood.

when you turned to look at your best friend, she was already leaving, mouthing you a good luck.

oh you needed it.

as minju disappeared from your view, you looked back at jungwon.

there he was. hands in pockets, standing tall.

you decided to take one step. and you already felt dizzy.

it’s okay. you can do it.

you quietly said to yourself. you swallowed hard. every step towards him felt heavier, like your legs didn’t want to move.

but you that you had to, that you wanted to.

as you were almost there, he looked at you. jungwon just stood there and watched your approach him. even though his hands were barely visible, you swear his fingers twitched—like he was holding himself back from walking to you.

you stoped in front of him.

silence.

the weight of everything crashed down at once .

“I-“ you started, but didn’t know how to finish. you just stared at him.

and he stared at you back. he blinked at you—his expression unreadable, but his eyes, they were curious, like they were searching for the reason you came up to him.

you turned your gaze to the ground below you, unable to stand under the pressure of his eyes. fingers finding the straps of your jacket.

“jungwon, i-“ you took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to look at him again. “i’m sorry.”

his face flickered with surprise. “for what?”

“for-“ your throat tightened like your grip on your jacket. “for pushing you away. for saying things i didn’t mean. for not asking how you feel. for-“

you exhaled.

“i miss you”

the words made their way out before you could stop them. your feelings summarized in three words. you just missed him.

jungwon froze.

he fixed his posture, continued to look at you, waited for you to continue.

your hands let go of your jacket and balled into fists. “i like you, jungwon” you made a slight pause. “i truly do, i don’t know how and when it started, but-“ you let out a shaky laugh, shaking your head.

“i just know because when i’m not around you, everything feels wrong”

jungwon was still staring, like a deer in headlights, but then, in a second—

his hands weren’t in his pockets anymore, they were on your face.

your breath hitched. you could feel the warmth, both from his hands and your fluster.

his fingertips, warm and gentle, carefully traced over your cheeks-like you weren’t real, like you could disappear in a millisecond.

his voice was barely audible. “are you serious?”

you nodded. “i am”

a small, breathless laugh escapes him.

and then-

he kissed you.

the warmth of his lips connected with yours.

your eyes widened, but you quickly adjusted, closing them, your hands made their way to his shoulders.

when his lips started moving, you couldn’t help but reciprocate. it just felt right.

you kissed each other just right. it felt wonderful.

the lack of air made you pull away first, but jungwon quickly kissed you again.

and when he did pull away, he smiled.

you saw the smile that you adored, the cutest dimples made their way back on his face.

jungwon hugged you, pulling you close by your waist. “i like you too,” he whispered into your ear. “i always wanted to say that.”

you hugged him back and lightly laughed. “so, can i be your girlfriend?” you asked him.

“i’d love that” jungwon replied, stuffing his head deeper into your hair.

you and your boyfriend lied in your room, enjoying each other’s company.

arctic monkeys’ ‘AM’ album playing in the background. and it’s all you could ever ask for.

“still can’t believe minju was the one who promoted you confess” jungwon suddenly said as he played with your hair.

“if it wasn’t for her, i’d never look at your direction again, honestly. you should thank her” looking back at him, you enlightened him.

“nah, we’re even.” he joked. “i’m glad she apologized tho, unexpected from her.”

“stop making her sound like a villain!” you hit him, but you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “she’s the one who made me go to that photobooth.”

jungwon held you tighter, kissing your cheek. “whatever, i have you now. the others don’t matter.”

at that you could only hum, closing your eyes.

as fluorescent adolescent—your favorite song—started playing, you drifted into slumber in your boyfriends arms.

#read it so many times i started to hate it lol #a month and a half #that’s crazy #super cool works #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen jungwon #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #yang jungwon #enha jungwon #yang jungwon smau #yang jungwon fluff #yang jungwon angst #jungwon angst #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon x reader #fluff #angst

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soaps-mohawk · 1 year ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 13: Piece Me Back Together

Summary: Your pack deals with the aftermath of your heat.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, handjobs, anal fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex irl), spanking (it’s like once), choking (kind of), light Dom/sub dynamics, Johnny's praise kink, excessive use of the word cock, heat cycles, mating cycles, brief mention of blood, brief medical stuff, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, and of course a little fluff

A/N: Well folks, we've made it past the heat portion of the fic. Now things can really start moving. Lots of aftercare, some world building, and of course a little spice at the end for you all to enjoy (as if the last chapter wasn't enough lol). I tried to catch all the possible tags for this one but as always, let me know if I missed one. The smut happens in the very last scene, so if you'd prefer not to read it, then skip that last little bit. You won't really miss much. Also, there's a lot of jumping around in time in this one so I tried to mark when things are happening relative to the present moment in the fic.

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

6 Days Ago

“Looks comfortable.”

Kyle glances up as Johnny closes the door to his room, blanket and pillow in hand. “Slept on worse.” He shrugs, glancing down at the cot set up in the hallway before looking back up at Johnny. “Moving out?”

“Camping in Si’s office for the next week. Keep our distance.” He nods at the closed door.

“Probably for the best.” Kyle says. “Have fun!”

“Don’t enjoy yourself too much.” Johnny winks at him before making his way down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

Kyle shakes his head, starting to sort through the many bags of supplies they’ve stocked up on in preparation for their omega’s heat. They’re well prepared, all of them, for the next week, Kyle especially. He’s spent the last few days reading up on what to expect, how to best help and support his alpha and omega, and what to look out for in case things start going wrong. He doesn’t think they will. He has a lot of faith in Price and he knows Price will take good care of their omega.

Still, he can’t help but feel a bit nervous. He has a big job to do, even though there’s not much to do until after the heat is over with. He just has to ensure Price doesn’t hurt you accidentally, or maul you to death. He doesn’t think that’s likely to happen, but then again, one can never know.

Kyle lets out a shaky breath, grabbing the bags with the electrolytes and nutrient bars before heading for your door.

It’s going to be a long week.

Present Day

It’s quiet. Has been for almost an hour now. Kyle rises from the cot, slipping his phone into his pocket. He slowly approaches the door, leaning in to listen for a moment before putting his hand on the knob. He lets out a breath before pushing the door open slowly, slipping in and closing the door quietly. The smells in the room are worse than they had been last night, a toxic mix of omega, alpha, sex, and sweat. He takes a moment to breathe, adjusting to the scent.

You and Price are spooned together on the bed, asleep, or at least you are. Price had pulled the blankets up around you, tucking you in. Kyle approaches slowly, not wanting to accidentally step on a wrapper and startle either of you and risk you getting scared or Price getting territorial. He brushes the damp strands of hair from your face, your body temperature significantly lower than it had been even last night. He pulls the forehead thermometer from his pocket, taking your temperature quickly before sending a text to Dr. Keller.

He carefully lifts the blankets, checking beneath. You’re still locked together as he expected, and he lowers the blankets back down, tucking you both in again. He unplugs Price’s phone from the charging cord that he’d plugged in last night, rotating it to your phone. He knew the chances of either of you being aware enough to use a phone for anything would be low, but just in case, he kept them both charged.

He tiptoes through the mess of wrappers and bottles, grabbing the bag of trash that he had started a couple days ago. He picks up the mess on the floor, cleaning off the nightstand as well before setting out a new bottle of electrolytes and a couple nutrient bars. There’s still quite a few left, but those could be saved for your next heat.

Price stirs a bit as Kyle sets the bag of trash off to the side next to the bag of things that would have to go to the wash. He hurries over, gently keeping Price from moving too much.

“Easy. You’re still knotted.” He says, putting a hand on Price’s shoulder as you let out a quiet sound. His skin is warm and sticky from sweat, and probably other things.

Price rubs his eyes before blinking up at Kyle. “What day is it?”

“Morning of the sixth day.” He answers, passing Price the bottle of electrolytes. “I think it’s over. Her temperature’s back to normal. Just waiting on Dr. Keller’s opinion.”

Price hums, unscrewing the cap from the bottle before taking a long drink. “Feel like shit.”

Kyle grins. “Been a long week for you, Cap. How do you feel?”

Price screws the cap back on the bottle before leaning over you to place it on the nightstand. “Like I got hit by a truck and rolled down a hill.”

“Speaking from experience, sir?” Kyle smirks.

Price gives him a look before closing his eyes again, relaxing against your back. He lets out a groan as his knot deflates, his cock slipping from your folds. “Christ, that's going to hurt later.”

“Let me get the bath started.” Kyle says, going into your bathroom.

He starts the water, making sure it’s warm enough before he grabs the epsom salt off the counter and adds some in. He leaves the water running as he moves back to the bedroom, helping Price off the bed first. The alpha groans as he stands, leaning heavily against Kyle’s side. Kyle wraps his arm around his shoulders, supporting Price as they make their way to the bathroom.

“I’ve been beaten, tortured, shot. I’ve jumped out of moving cars, been in helicopter crashes.” Price says, grunting as Kyle helps him down into the bath. “This might be the worst I’ve ever felt.”

“Not quite as spry as you used to be, old man?” Kyle teases, making sure he’s comfortable.

“Plenty spry, but god I forgot how energetic omegas can be.” Price leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

“Just relax.” Kyle says, turning off the water. “I’ll bring her in.”

He heads back into your room, approaching the bed. You’re shivering, eyes squeezed closed and eyebrows pinched. Kyle kneels down next to the bed, placing a gentle hand on your arm. You start a bit at the touch, a quiet whimper leaving your lips.

“Shh, easy love.” Kyle tries to soothe you as you shake. “You’re alright.”

You let out a whine, seeking out your alpha in your disoriented state. The bathwater splashes as Price shifts in response to your call, his own instincts still on high alert.

“Let’s get you into the bath.” Kyle says before gently slipping his arms under you and lifting you up.

You let out a whine in protest, your body sore and aching from the last six days. Kyle quickly carries you to the bath, easing you into the water between Price’s legs. You’re trembling, quiet whines leaving your lips as he eases you back against Price’s chest. The alpha wraps his arms around you, a quiet rumble sounding from his chest as he tries to ease your disorientation and discomfort.

Kyle leaves you and Price there to soak as he heads back to the room to strip the sheets and start the laundry. Most of your pillows and stuffed animals are stacked in the corner of the room by your desk, spared from the mess that the bed has turned into. The sheets are still wet with a concoction of fluids, and he knows they’ll need to soak for a while. He stuffs them into the bag with your clothes, along with your blankets, before he heads down the hall to the laundry room.

He checks on you and Price when he returns, both of you content still in the bath. He can’t help but smile as he watches the two of you, pride swelling in his chest at the sight of his alpha taking care of their omega.

Their omega.

It seems almost strange to think now. They’d gone so long without an omega, and thought they wouldn’t be getting one. Now, six weeks later, they’ve all fallen head over heels for a little omega none of them even knew they needed. He can’t imagine life without an omega now, how well you fit into their pack, how well you fit with all of them, how you’ve only served to make them stronger and more efficient.

He hates to admit that perhaps Laswell was right.

Maybe they did need you after all.

Kyle bags up the plastic mattress protector, glad to see it did its job. He replaces the sheets and blankets for now, knowing you’ll want to nest once you’re more aware. He checks his phone before heading back into the bathroom, kneeling down next to the tub. Your shaking has subsided, reduced to a shudder here and there as you’ve slowly relaxed in the hot water.

Kyle grabs a cloth and your body wash, starting to gently clean your skin, or at least get the sweat and other fluids off. Bruises litter your skin and the claiming mark on your shoulder is scabbed and angry. Kyle carefully washes it, not wanting to apply too much pressure as he cleans off the dried blood still stuck to your skin. He knows it’s going to hurt for a while.

“What did Dr. Keller say?” Price asks as he helps ease you up so Kyle can wash your back.

“Said if her temperature is normal then the worst is over.” Kyle answers. “She wants to do a check up soon, make sure everything’s alright. Said she’d come here to do it, if that’s alright.”

Price grunts quietly as Kyle starts to wash his chest. “That’s fine. Easier than going all the way to the medical building. Simon and Johnny?”

“Fine.” Kyle answers. “Been keeping busy running drills and stuff. Johnny’s been keeping Simon occupied.”

Price hums, letting his eyes close as Kyle washes his neck and shoulders. “Good.”

Kyle makes sure to get all of the soap rinsed off before pulling the plug on the water, carefully lifting you up to stand. He lets you lean against him, grabbing one of the towels to dry you off as best he can. Price gets himself standing, drying himself off as Kyle helps you back to bed. Price joins you, wrapping his arms around you tight as Kyle tucks the blankets up around you both.

“Can I get you anything?” Kyle asks as he sets a new bottle of electrolytes on the nightstand. “Real food maybe?”

“I’d kill for some bangers and mash, maybe a pint.” Price says, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I’ll see what I can scrounge up.” Kyle says, glancing at you one last time before he leaves the room.

Your body aches. There’s a deep soreness in your muscles, and a painful throb between your legs. Your skin feels raw and tight, and there's a steady pulse behind your eyes. A quiet sound leaves your lips before you can stop it, the sound cracking and broken from your raw throat. There's a desert in your mouth again, your tongue dry and heavy in your mouth.

Your thoughts are dragged away from the agony in your body as a quiet rumbling starts somewhere in front of you, your brain going quiet except for the need to seek it out. You press yourself closer to it, meeting warm skin as you try to get closer and closer. You want to bury yourself in it, seep into its depths until you can feel the vibrations of it in your bones. Arms wrap around you, pulling you in closer until you're squished against a bare chest.

You press your face against the soft skin, trying to get closer to the rumbling purr vibrating from deep within. You let out another sound, body going lax as the purr lulls you into a relaxed state. The tension leaves your body, easing the ache in your muscles a bit. Not much, but enough to pull a relieved sigh from your lips.

“Easy, love.” A quiet voice says, another hand touching your back.

You tense slightly at the intrusion on your safe space, but quickly relax as the hand stills on your skin. The calming scent of beta overtakes you, easing your mind to a quiet hum as your alpha and beta work to calm you. You feel a bit disoriented as reality slowly begins to return, seeping back into your brain.

You went into heat.

You remember waking up with the blistering inferno burning hot within you, the insatiable need pulsing between your legs. You remember Kyle being there, the soft scent of him as he helped you prepare, pulling off your clothes and making you drink some of the electrolytes. You remember John entering the room, the way his scent made your brain feel like mush. You remember him sinking his teeth into your shoulder, his knot forcing you open before everything went dark.

Everything else is a dark blur, wiped from your memory after your instincts took over.

You shift against the body you’re pressed close to, a deep ache rippling through you. It hurts, everything hurts. Your hips are sore, your shoulder is throbbing, every muscle feels like you just did a triathlon with no training, and there’s a sharp throbbing between your thighs.

You’re crying before you even realize it, the tears uncontrollable as they slide down your cheeks, the quiet sniffles and sobs aggravating your already aching body. The arms around you tighten, the purring getting louder, but you can’t stop the onslaught of tears.

You flinch as something tickles the skin of your forehead, chapped lips pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. You let out a whine as you continue to cry, your mind a swirl of confusion and disorientation as you try to come to terms with everything that’s happened. You don’t know how long it’s been, what day it is. You don’t even know what happened to you in the last week.

You continue to cry, oblivious to the conversation happening over you, the gentle purring in your ears lulling you into a dazed state as you float in and out of consciousness. The pain of being moved momentarily brings you back before you settle again, laying back against a chest. A baggy shirt is pulled over your head, smelling of your alpha. The fabric feels different than it had days ago when you’d woken up in the throes of your heat. It’s soft, not offending, and it offers you warmth and comfort.

You don’t want to move, you don’t want to do anything. Exhaustion pulls at the edges of your mind as you lay there, the tears still streaming down your cheeks.

He hasn’t stopped purring since you woke up. The low rumble in his chest hasn’t stopped, and neither has the ache blooming there since you started crying. Even in your dazed, half asleep state, the tears still roll down your cheeks, quiet shaky breaths catching every so often. He’s not sure what to do, how to help. He’s never been with an omega that’s cried before. Not like this.

His purring kicks up in volume as you startle awake when the door opens, letting out a broken whimper as your space suddenly gets invaded. He tries to soothe you, his arms tightening around you to try and ground you in his presence.

“Hi, honey.” Dr. Keller says, kneeling down next to the bed, her voice soft and the scent of beta thick in the air. “Still a bit out of it, huh?”

“She hasn’t stopped crying since she woke up.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on your arm with his thumb.

“That’s not unusual.” Dr. Keller says, digging through her bag to pull out a thermometer. “There’s a lot going on right now for her. Besides the exhaustion and the confusion and the pain, there’s a lot of rapid hormonal changes happening. Some omegas can just wake up and hop out of it immediately and be just fine.”

John frees one of your arms so Dr. Keller can take your pulse and blood pressure.

“Others might struggle a bit more.” She continues. “Purebred omegas especially have a hard time coming out of it. They’re more sensitive to those instincts and the sudden cut off of them is rather jarring.” She puts her equipment back in her bag. “Her vitals look good, which makes me confident to hold off on any further examinations until she’s more alert and aware.”

“Are there things we should look out for?” Kyle asks.

“She’s going to be drowsy and fatigued for a while, but if you can’t wake her at all, call me. If her breathing gets shallow or her pulse weakens or she starts developing a fever again, call me. Also check for blood the next time she uses the bathroom. Her vitals aren’t showing any indication of internal injuries, though, so I think she’ll be just fine.” She pulls a pill bottle from her bag. “I’ve prescribed some muscle relaxers for her. There’s a week’s worth in there. It’ll help with the pain and discomfort, but they will make her sleepy. The best thing she can do right now is rest and recover. Once she’s more aware, you can try some soft foods and lots of liquids. If she’s really struggling, I can set up an IV and get some fluids into her, perk her up a bit.”

“Thank you.” John says, shifting you slightly so Dr. Keller can look at the bite mark on your shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” She asks him, pulling out a disinfectant wipe.

“Sore.” John huffs out a laugh. “Nothing I can’t handle, though.”

Dr. Keller hums as she cleans the wound on your shoulder. “I know I’m not here to give you medical advice, but as your omega’s doctor I feel the need to remind you not to ignore your own symptoms. She needs you right now, more than ever. So don’t try to macho man your way through anything. You need to rest just as much as she does.”

“Yes, doctor.” He grumbles, adjusting your shirt once she’s done.

Dr. Keller gives him a smile. “You did a good job.” She turns to Kyle. “Both of you. Don’t hesitate to call me. It’s what I’m here for.”

A smile tugs at John’s lips as Kyle practically beams from Dr. Keller’s praise. He did do a good job. You’re both still breathing after all.

3 Days Ago

“I cannae take anymore.” Johnny pants, his breaths near wheezes as he rests his hands on his knees. “Ye said you'd go easy on me.”

“I never promised anything, Johnny.” Simon says, standing behind him.

“Hell's bells, L.T.” Johnny groans, dropping to his hands and knees. “Gonna kill me at this rate.”

“Don't be dramatic. C'mon, again.”

“Uh uh.” Johnny says, flopping onto his side on the ground. “Am pure done in! ‘S almost lunch anyway.” He rolls onto his back, looking in the direction of the barracks as he wipes the sweat from his brow. “Think they're havin’ fun?”

Simon looks down at him, looming over him like a shadow. “Probably seems like it right now. Be a different story when it’s done.”

“Sometimes I wish I knew what it was like.” Johnny says, turning his gaze up to Simon's face. He can't see much under the mask, and right now is one of those moments when he wishes he could.

“You really don't. It's messy and gory.” Simon offers him a hand, helping Johnny to his feet. “Gotta be prepared to pick up the pieces afterwards.” Simon turns, heading in the direction of the barracks.

“That why you've never taken an omega?” Johnny asks, following him.

Simon stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at Johnny. Johnny's back straightens at the look in Simon's eyes. No, not Simon. Ghost. He's looking at Ghost again.

“Drop it. Or I'll make you do another lap.” Ghost says, his voice taking on the low rasp he gets when he's shifted into the laser focused headspace of the Lieutenant.

“Yes, sir.” Johnny says, following after Ghost as they head back towards the barracks.

Ghost slips into the showers once they enter, Johnny heading to the corner to peek down the hallway towards their rooms. It's quiet now. It hadn't been when they left earlier. He could hear it as they passed the hall to go out the door, the distant sound of moans and the bedframe knocking against the wall. He had fought the erection threatening to tent his shorts all the way to the field. He knows heats are no light matter, but the mental image he's drawn up of you blissed out, mouth open as you moan, back arching in pleasure has been plaguing him for nearly two weeks. He's desperate, practically chomping at the bit to get a chance to see it himself first hand, to see the real thing putting his mental image to shame.

He makes his way down the hallway, keeping a respectful distance between himself and your room. Kyle looks up from his spot on the bed where he'd been scrolling on his phone.

“How're they doin’?” Johnny asks, wiping the sweat from his face.

“Alright. Sleeping for the moment.” Kyle answers. Johnny can only imagine the torture of having to sit and listen to nonstop fucking for the last three days.

“We're gonna grab lunch soon. Want us tae bring ye somethin’?”

Kyle nods. “Sure. That'd be great.”

“Ye got it.” Johnny nods, passing a glance at your door before looking back to Kyle. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, mate.” Kyle says, watching his fellow beta walk back down the hall.

Johnny glances up from his phone as Simon huffs out what's the tenth sigh in the last three minutes. The alpha is seated at his desk, clicking away at something on his computer and occasionally mashing away at the keyboard rather harshly. Johnny's surprised he hasn't cracked a key yet, or just thrown the whole thing out the window. The beta can see how tightly his alpha is wrung by the tenseness in his shoulders, the hard set of his brow, the set line of his lips, the occasional tick of his jaw.

“What's got ye all riled up?” Johnny finally breaks the silence, setting his phone aside.

“Nothing.” Simon grumbles, ignoring Johnny's gaze.

Johnny’s brow furrows and he pushes himself to stand, moving over to Simon’s side. “Doesnae seem like nothin’ to me.” He puts his hands on Simon’s broad shoulders, squeezing them, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Awful tense, Si.”

“Leave it, Johnny.” Simon grumbles, trying to swat the beta away, but he’s insistent.

“Wouldnae be a little omega getting you so tense, would it?” Johnny teases.

Simon turns to him, his eyes darkening. His jaw clenches, hands closing into fists where they sit on the armrests of his chair. “Don’t push it, Johnny.” His voice has that deep rumble to it, the threat of his alpha coming through.

Johnny stares at him, feeling the danger prickling at the back of his neck, but at the same time, he wants to push that boundary. He wants to see just how far he can push his alpha until he finally gives in.

“I don’t know why ye keep torturing yourself like this, Si. Ye know ye like her. She’d be more’n willing-”

“That’s the problem.” Simon snaps, pushing himself up from his seat, forcing Johnny to take a step back. “She’s not doing this because she wants to. She’s only doing this because she’s been told to do it.”

“She’s an omega. Her whole life was going tae be people tellin’ her what to do and forcin’ her tae do things, even if she didn’t want to. Ye think things would have been different if she’d been put with a different pack?” Johnny doesn’t back down from Simon’s glare, having been on the receiving end of it enough times now he’s almost immune to it. “Things could have been a lot worse for her. She might not have wanted to be here, but she is. Ye can’t change that, Si. No matter how badly you might want to.”

Johnny can tell by the slow fall to Simon’s tense shoulders that he’s struck home. The situation wasn’t ideal, but it’s what they were dealt. You’re here with them, and he’s going to make sure you feel as comfortable as possible.

Simon lets out another sigh, turning away from Johnny to crawl into their makeshift bed. He lays down with a huff, closing his eyes. Johnny smirks, slowly crawling onto the two cots pushed together, laying down right next to Simon. He rests his hand on Simon’s thigh, feeling the powerful muscle flex under his hand. He slowly begins to drag it higher, Simon’s eyes opening again.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Simon rasps, but he doesn’t move, even as Johnny reaches the junction of his hip and thigh.

“Yer all worked up, big guy.” Johnny says, leaning his head on his hand, slowly moving his hand over Simon’s very prominent bulge. “Thought I’d help ye.”

“What makes you think I want your help?” Simon says, still laying still.

Johnny lifts his brows, slowly rubbing Simon through his pants. “This looks rather painful, and I seem to be the only option to help, since everyone else is rather occupied-”

Johnny’s words are cut off as he finds himself suddenly on his back, Simon’s hand around his throat. The alpha is leaning over him, a deep rumble vibrating through his chest. “You talk too much, Johnny.” Simon rumbles, leaning close to the beta’s face.

“I’ve been told tha’ before.” Johnny says, leaning up to try and kiss his alpha, but Simon backs away before he can make contact. “By you if I remember correctly.”

Simon’s fingers flex around his throat, a moan spilling from his lips as Simon grinds his hips against Johnny’s. His cock is hard in his pants, has been for a while. He’s not sure if it’s from the lewd thoughts that have been plaguing his mind since you first kissed him, weeks ago, or if it’s just a response to the knowledge that you’re currently fucking their pack alpha like your life depends on it.

Johnny lets out a whimper, bucking up against Simon desperately. Simon tuts at him, pressing against his throat to keep him still on the bed as he sits himself up on top of the beta.

“Naughty little thing.” Simon says, staring down into his blue eyes. “Know you’ve been thinking about sinking your cock into the new little omega for weeks.” Johnny lets out a whine, his cock twitching in his pants. “I don’t think you’ll even make it that long, will you pup?” Simon chuckles. “Gonna cum in your pants as soon as you see her tits, huh?” Simon presses down, putting more pressure against his cock as he rubs it through his pants. “Gonna cum in your pants just thinking about it.”

Johnny holds his breath, trying to focus anywhere except for Simon’s hand. He squeezes his eyes closed as Simon undoes the button on his cargo pants, releasing his throat to tug the fabric down around his knees.

“Bloody hell.” Simon says, wrapping a hand around Johnny’s hard cock. “Prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

“I thought Kyle’s was the prettiest.” Johnny says, opening his eyes to glance down at his alpha.

“Kyle’s just pretty.” Simon says, slowly stroking Johnny’s cock. “You have the prettiest cock.”

“Christ...” Johnny breathes as Simon continues to jerk his cock, his hips bucking as he can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

A pathetic whimper leaves Johnny’s lips as Simon pulls his hand away, sitting up on his knees over his beta. He undoes his belt, tossing it to the floor before undoing his pants, pulling them and his briefs down to release his own throbbing cock. Johnny licks his lips as Simon fists his own cock, slowly stroking it.

“Turn around. Let me see that pretty ass.” Simon says.

“Yes, sir.” Johnny smirks, wiggling himself until he’s flat on his stomach, pushing his ass into the air as best he can with his legs trapped between Simon’s.

Simon purrs quietly at Johnny’s response, running his hands over his beta’s pert cheeks. “Prettiest ass too.” He murmurs, gently spreading his cheeks.

“I’m startin’ to think I might be the prettiest.” Johnny says, gasping quietly as a glob of warm spit hits his hole.

“Give me a night with Kyle and I’ll get back to you on that.” Simon says, pressing a finger into Johnny’s ass.

Johnny groans, pressing his face into the pillow. “Fucking Christ.”

“You can take it.” Simon soothes him, reaching down to fish the lube out of the bag he’d tossed it in last night. He squirts some on his finger before pressing further in, spreading Johnny’s ass open. “Good boy.”

Johnny nearly melts into the cot, letting out a pathetic sound as Simon adds a second finger. He’s still sore from the last three days, but his drive to please his alpha pushes away any sensitivity he’s feeling. That, and the lust burning hot in him. Betas don’t have heat cycles, but he might as well be in the middle of one with how horny he’s been these last few days. He knows part of it is Simon being worked up by the knowledge that there’s an omega in heat nearby, and his own body reacting to his alpha. He’s never been around an omega in heat, and he doesn’t think Simon has either.

He’s not sure Simon has ever been with an omega at all before.

More cold lube hits his hole, a second finger pressing in. He gasps at the stretch, squeezing around Simon’s thick fingers. Simon’s other hand trails up his back, pushing his shirt up as he goes. Johnny pushes himself up slightly, tugging the fabric over his head before he relaxes back down against the blankets.

Simon presses a third finger in, working Johnny open with what still won’t be enough, but Johnny won’t complain. He’s taken his alpha before. He’ll do it gladly again.

“Fuck, Johnny.” Simon grunts as Johnny squeezes around his fingers again.

“Cannae help it.” Johnny whines. “Feels too good.”

“Didn’t say you could cum yet.” Simon says, removing his fingers. “Naughty pup.”

Johnny lets out a pathetic sounding whimper, pressing his ass up to try and chase Simon’s fingers. He yelps as Simon’s hand meets his skin, his hips dropping back to the bed at the force of Simon’s spank.

“Stay still.” Simon growls, the cap of the lube popping open again.

Johnny does as he’s told, keeping himself still as Simon prepares himself. He groans as the tip of Simon’s cock presses against his hole, his hands fisting the sheets at the stretch. Simon’s hand rubs his back, trying to get him to relax. Johnny breathes, forcing himself to go lax, letting Simon slip in further.

“Good boy.” Simon groans, bracing himself on the bed as he presses further and further into Johnny’s tight hole. “That’s my good boy. You can take it.”

“Fuck!” Johnny groans, practically preening from the praise.

“That’s it.” Simon groans, pressing in until his hips are flush with Johnny’s ass. “Bloody fucking hell.”

Johnny’s mind goes blank as he’s filled, all thoughts leaving at the feeling of his alpha inside of him. He’s panting already, stretched open around his alpha’s cock. Simon begins to move, rocking his hips slowly, drawing his cock out before pushing it back in. Johnny whines, pushing back against Simon, needing more.

“Please...” Johnny begs. “Please alpha!”

“Fuck.” Simon grunts, bracing himself further before snapping his hips against Johnny. “Like that? That what you want, pup?”

Johnny almost yelps at the sensation, hands fisting the blankets as his body rocks forward on the cot. “Fuck, yes!”

Simon sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against Johnny’s ass. Pleasure numbs Johnny’s mind as the sensation of Simon inside of him. His cock is trapped between his body and the cot, dragging against the blankets with every thrust. He’s going to cum soon, he knows that. He won’t be able to hold it, not with how sensitive he already is.

“Gonna cum, can’t hold it!” He whines, pushing back against Simon’s thrusts for more friction. “Fuck, alpha!”

Johnny cums quickly with a groan, the blankets getting damp under him as he shakes in his release. Simon doesn’t stop, undeterred by Johnny’s clenching around him in his orgasm. He’s going to ring a few more out of Johnny before he’s done.

They’re both in for a long night.

NEXT ->

Taglist:

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #x reader #captain price x reader #John price x reader #gaz x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #soap x reader #John soap mactavish x reader #Simon Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #a/b/o #alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics #Omegaverse

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bluudsucka · 25 days ago

Text

juna (chapter II) - bo chow x tomboy!reader

chapter I - chapter II

summary: after your run in with bo at the juke, the two of you continued to see each other. your relationship growing closer with each time you spent together. missing your presence - bo decided to pay you a visit on your family farm...

word count: 9k

warnings: smut, oral sex, unprotected sex, fluff, establish relationship, slight mentions of race, slight insecurity undertones, mentions of smoking

author's note: here's part two of my bo fic and i must say, i did enjoy writing this, i wanted to flex my writing muscle - and i feel like i did hahaa! omg, thank ya'll for reading my stuff and for the support, i appreciate ya'll dearly! much love <3

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

"I don't get too intimate. Why would I let you in? But I think again..."

The summer rays beat down on your body heavy as you rolled your tense shoulders, the thick heat blanketing over the farmland that your family owned. With a old and dirty straw hat that shielded your eyes from the sun, your nimble fingers aligned the nail into the wooden plank.

And you hammered.

The loud echo of iron hitting rusty nail reverberated through your body with each strike of the hammer you made, and once the nail disappeared into the thick wood you used the rest of your strength to yank at the plank - to make sure it wouldn't budge from the harsh weather. Dirt, mud, and chicken feathers clung onto your overalls and sun-kissed face as if it were a second skin. Your job for the day was to expand the chickencoop by the end of the afternoon; as more roosters were swiftly on their way to your farm.

Sweat damped the back of your neck and forehead, making the natural yet short soft curls tighten underneath your straw hat. This heat was siphoning your energy with each movement you made and it didn't help that you would sometimes get weak in the knees when your mind you drift towards your lover.

Bo Chow.

Memories of him always crept in with every strike of your hammer, every intense stroke of your saw cutting wooden boards, and every twist you made with your rusty screwdriver. After that night in the juke - your relationship with the man blossomed like a sunflower under the Mississippi heat. Every time you would drive into town your heart would flutter in anticipation to see him, to feel his hands on your body, and to kiss him.

He wasn't embarrassed to kiss you in public.

At first you had your reservations about it; stating that people would stare and whisper. Especially with the masculine getup you'd often wear, but Bo being Bo he shrugged his shoulders as those honey coated words fell from his lips, twisting in melody with his southern twang.

"Let them stare, I don't care what they whisper about us."

He was the best boyfriend you've had thus far, he was kind and gentle, and he never pressured you into doing anything you weren't comfortable with. But he also held your hand; guiding you out of your comfort zone when you needed it the most - showing the true desires that burned within your heart - the feelings that you thought you didn't deserve to feel. On Sundays Bo's general store would close early, at six instead of nine, and those days were your days.

You would sit on the wooden stool that was just beside the backdoor that lead upstairs - towards Bo's living quarters. The sound of him locking the door always made you smile ear to ear, that meant that it was now just the two of you. Bo would reassure that he didn't need any help closing, but you'd lend a hand anyway, with two people cleaning up that meant being in each other's arms would come sooner. Once done closing down the shop he would lead you upstairs, hand in hand, and the familiar tingle would nip at your loins.

Bo's hands would gently unbutton your overalls while your fingers would race over his arms and shoulders. After losing your virginity to him, the two of you couldn't keep your hands off of each other. He would help you explore your body while his guided hands would show you just the right touch to make him turn into moaning mess. You learned what your likes and dislikes are in the bedroom; Bo encourage you to speak your mind about it, reassuring you that it was important for him to know how to 'please his woman'.

After a few days of staying in town a little later than the usual and the unexplained pep in your step, your father quickly rushed you with questions on your whereabouts, at first you feigned ignorance but that didn't work of course.

You were a bad liar.

So you spilled about the time you spent with Bo, leaving out the intimate details, obviously. You told him that he was a kind man, that he treated you good, and that he had gumption most men around these parts lacked. And when those hurried words that ran from your mouth like water from a faucet slowed; he asked you to invite Bo over for dinner, to see for himself who this man truly was.

You could still feel the intense pressure of their eyes glued onto you and Bo as you introduced him to your family. Your two older brothers sizing him up as he helped you carry the bowl of mashed potatoes towards the large wooden dining table, but under their intense gaze Bo didn't crack, he kept his clam and charismatic persona in tact even with all of the invasive questions thrown at him.

Your family quickly learned that Bo was clever - extremely so. He had a plan, the kind that would pull the family farm out of shambles that the Great Depression and Segregation had driven it into. Some people were not fond at the idea of buying natural farm raised anything from a once sharecropper and his family, but Bo offered to resell your family chicken, beef, milk and eggs within his shop. He also added the fact that he knew the SmokeStack twins and that they'd needed supplies for their juke too.

He was offering your family a lifeline.

But the idea of the unknown worried your father, he was comfortable with reselling his goods to other local farms that he worked with over the years, but those farms were going under as well. He had no choice but to hear out Bo, so he did. You could see the glimmer of interest and hope within your father's eyes as Bo laid out the numbers between bites of greens, his strong hand resting on your thigh underneath the table, he was nervous but only you knew that.

Your bothers chimed in with sharp doubts, but you could tell that they were interested too, they didn't run Bo off like they'd normally do to smooth talkers who tried to convince the family to do business with them, and that was remarkable to you. The way he swatted away their doubts with ease and filled their minds with the potential of making a steady income made you stare at Bo with awe.

After the dinner you and Bo would walk the perimeter of the farm, your knuckles brushing against his as tender words exchanged between the two of you. He told you that he wanted to build something lasting, not just for now, but for the future. Something that would benefit the multiple generations that would come after the two of you - together. You paused your steps at his words which cause him to stop in his tracks too.

"What do you mean by that, Bo?" You asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, his hands deep within his pockets and replied: "Nothin', just thinkin' out loud is all."

Pulling yourself out of the sweet memories you wiped your dirty saw dust covered hands onto your overalls and took a step back to admire your work. You were finally done expanding the chickencoop, and with a huff you began to clean up after yourself. Carrying the extra planks and tools into the nearby shed were they would stay until the next project.

The sound of dirt cracking underneath wheels grabbed your attention and with steady steps you exited the shed, only to be met with a blue car and your lover within the driver seat. A smile tugged at your sweat-slicked face as your irises scanned his movements, watching him as he slipped out of the car, and slamming the door shut with a lazy motion.

"Hey, baby." Bo smiled as he strut towards you with open arms, you quickly ran towards him, closing the distance as your face pressed against the crook of his neck. Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders while he rested his strong yet comforting hands on your hips, pulling you flush against him.

He smelled like cedar wood, peppermint, and a undertone of tobacco. The vibrations of his laughter racked through your body and the both of you swayed back and forth within each others arms. Pulling away first, you planted a quick peck on his lips that he gladly accepted.

"What're you doin' here? Ain't you suppose to see my Pa tomorrow?" You asked as your hands ran across his chest, feeling his toned body underneath his clothes. You bit your lip and giggled as he placed a tender kiss on your forehead, knocking the straw hat that you wore off of your head by accident.

"What? Is it a crime to pay a visit to my beautiful lady?" He shot back which made you shake your head, a wide and giddy smile clung onto your lips like the thick summer heat that engulfed your body.

"I miss you, that's why I'm here...Recently it feels like I'm only here to talk business, I rarely get to be around you now." Bo whispered, his eyes softening with each word he spoked. You looked away from him, but his fingers caught your chin and guided your face towards his.

"I miss you too..." You muttered back as your lips ghosted over his, but before he could kiss you - your hands that were rested on his chest playful pushed him away. "But I'm not bothered by you comin' out here to do business, you're helpin' my family, and I know once we get our footin' we'll have time for each other again."

You picked up the straw hat that fell onto the dirt pathway, tossing the hat on a shelf within the shed. Your short hair was now free as your fingers picked through the curls, the natural coils snapping back into place with each tug of your fingers. It was Bo's turn to watch you now as he placed his thumb with the belt loop of his pants, his smile never fading.

"What?" You chuckled out, but the man just shrugged and shook his head, his brown eyes filled with adoration, he was starting to grow more attached to you by the minute. You haven't exchanged a 'I love you' yet between the two of you, the closet thing that would be said was along the lines of: 'I'm fond of you' or 'I care about you'. But never 'I love you' but Bo couldn't deny the feelings he felt when he was around you, when he would think about you during those long days within the general store.

He loved you.

He wanted to tell you that right here, right now. But he stopped himself, afraid that he'd scare you off - afraid that you weren't ready yet. He'd understand, of course. But understanding wouldn't negate the sting he would feel if you didn't reciprocate those feelings, so he settled on dancing around that 'love' word as long as he can.

"You done workin', Ms. busy body?" He asked.

"Yup." You replied as you closed the shed doors shut, locking the heavy doors with a turn of a key.

"So what're you gonna do now? Just swelter away in this heat or--"

"You just don't give up, do you?"

"Nope, but you already know that, girl."

You bit your lip as your foot kicked the patch of grass that nestled within the dirt road, your eyes flicked over towards the distance behind Bo, as if you were decided something within your mind. When you settled on your answer the corner of your lips tugged into a grin, sticking your thumbs under the thick straps of your overalls you blurted out: "Follow me."

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Bo followed you with his hand grasp into yours, cutting through tall grass and tangled shrubbery until boots met with a dusty trial that lead towards a canopy of willow trees and red oaks, the thick leaves of the trees shielded the two of you from the harsh summer sun. Sliver of golden rays slipped past the greenery as it casted light through the dimly lit woods.

Silence fell over the both of you like a blanket, but it wasn't uncomfortable, it was calming - welcoming. Your eyes would flick between him and the small dirt trial, smiling as his eyes would gaze at the small wildlife that would rummage through the bushes and wildflower beds.

"My Pa said he's got some ideas that're worth considering, if you'd lend a ear to hear 'em out," you mumbled as your foot kicked a rock away from the path. "He ain't the type to be so gung-ho about this kinda thing...You've got a silver tongue on you, that's for sure."

"I do got a way with words, don't I? How'd you think I got you?" He gloated which earned a playful slap on the arm from you.

"Don't get all cocky now, boy. If the twins go back on their word then my brother's will turn on you quicker than flies on pig shit." You jested as you both stepped side by side.

Bo smiled at that.

The once shy girl who stumbled into his store that could barely get a sentence out was now cracking jokes with him. It made him feel good to know that you're growing comfortable enough to show your personality - you were witty.

"Eh, I'll take my chances." Bo replied as he pulled a cigarette from the paper box and placing it between his plump lips. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you watched him lit the cigarette, the low ember glow of the fire igniting the tip casted a dull orange shadow across his handsome features. Pulling the cigarette away from his lips a cloud of hazy smoke plumed in front of him and the smell of tobacco hit your nose.

You weren't bothered that Bo was a smoker, your father was one too, so you were use to the strong smell. But you never tried a cigarette personally, much to Bo's pleasure. You remember one night after making love to him, Bo lit a cigarette as the both of your naked bodies laid flushed against each other within the soft bedsheets. Your head rested on his chest as you watched and you asked him if you could try it. The look on his face shocked you, Bo looked as if you'd grown three heads then.

He quickly denied your request, stating that smoking was a nasty and expensive habit. And with that pretty smile you had there was no way he'd encourage you to smoke in fear of ruining your teeth. He asked you if you wanted him to stop smoking around you, which you told him that you didn't mind. But to quell your curiosity Bo took a long drag from the cigarette, holding the smoke within his mouth and held a soft grip onto your jaw, puckering your lips.

With his lips lightly pressed onto yours - he blew the heavy smoke into your mouth - which quickly made you cough. It was different than tasting it on his lips after Bo finished a cigarette, the taste was stronger and the smoked harshly bit at your lungs and throat.

Needless to say after that day you didn't ask to try another cigarette again.

The trail that the two of you followed sloped downward and the thick summer air grew cooler with each step you took. With a hop over a gnarled root that separated dirt and sand the trees that once shielded you from the golden sun opened up, brown eyes were met with the simmering reflection of the sun that danced across the crystal clear water.

A lake.

A sharp whistle left Bo's lips as he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, holding it between his pointer and middle finger. He watched as dragonflies hovered over the blue water, how the lily pads clumped together at the edge of the lake, and how the sand clung onto shiny small geodes with each ripple of the water.

This place was beautiful.

"How'd you find the place?" Bo asked as he finished his cigarette, normally he'd flick the butt of it on the ground without a second thought, but the sight of this place made him open up the paper box and place it inside next to the rest of unsmoked cigarettes.

You turned on your heel to look at him, your over worked hands rested on your hips as you spoke.

"When I was thirteen I got into an argument with my brother, he kept pickin' on me after I lost a game of football - so I thought I could take him in a fight," you shrugged your shoulders as you watch Bo walk towards the edge of the water. "That wasn't the case, though. He was sixteen at the time and before I could even think about landing a punch on him he pushed me to the ground and knocked the wind right outta me. I cried and told him I hated him, and I ran as far away as I could. Then I stumbled here...My sanctuary."

"Feels like it..." Bo said as he glanced at you, watching you kick your mud covered boots off. You paused your movements, feeling his tender gaze that rested on your frame.

"The water is cold enough to cool you down from this heat." You explained.

"Oh, I see what this is...You tryna get me naked, y'know there's easier ways to do that, girl." Bo laughed which made you roll your eyes in playful annoyance. Sliding your socks off and stuffing them into your boots you giggled along with him.

"I just told you a heart-tuggin' story and all you can think about is me making a move on you," you paused as you tried to stifle your giggles. "I mean - you're right! But still, you don't have to call it out, Bo."

"But that's what you like about me, why would I stop statin' the obvious?" He replied as he kicked his shoes off too. Your hands unbuttoned the straps that held your overalls in place, making the heavy denim drop onto the sand. Bo's hands swiftly undone his button up shirt, slipping off the fabric along with the undershirt that rested on his lean yet muscular body, his pale olive chest was now under your needy gaze as his hands reached for his belt buckle.

"Hey, let me, I love doin' this part." You mumbled as your nimble fingers reached for his belt, which made Bo hold up his hands in a display of playful obedience, his brown eyes watching your hands unbuckle the belt that held his pants in place. Once the belt was undone, Bo kicked the pants off of his legs, now he stood in front of you with just his boxers on. You still wore the oversized shirt that stopped just above your midthigh, shielding your underwear from Bo's intense gaze.

"Now that ain't fair, honey. How come I'm almost stark naked and you got that shirt on?" Bo laughed as he tugged you closer towards him by the loose fitting fabric that draped over your body, he placed tender kisses onto your lips as you offered up an answer for him in between those fevered kisses.

"Well since you made such a convincing argument; I'll take it off, but I'm keeping my delicates on."

"Like I ain't seen you naked before - but okay, I'm keeping my boxers on too." Bo chuckled as his dark chestnut colored eyes grazed over your body, watching you remove the cotton shirt from your frame, pulling the fabric over your head and tossing it on the moss covered log. You were in your bra and panties yet the thin fabrics left nothing to the imagination as your nipples poked through your bra; Bo couldn't help but to stare at your half nude frame in awe.

With bare legs slowly sauntered into the freezing water and you let out a loud yelp, the sensation of freezing water nipping at your warm body. Even when it's the middle of summer this lake was always ice cold and goosebumps dotted across your bronzed skin.

You turn to face Bo who watched you from the edge of the water, he was lost in thought, and you noticed that his attention would slip into his mind the more you spent time with him. With a playful flick of your wrist, you splashed the lake water at Bo, making him jump as a mischievous smile lingered onto your lips.

"You can come in, y'know - the water's fine, I promise ain't no gators around these parts! Maybe..."

"Ha, you really are somethin' else, girl."

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The twinkle of fireflies danced within the thick evening air and the once bright sun crept slowly behind the trees; painting the scenery in hues of blues. Birds that were hidden within the tall willow trees hushed their songs - only for their soothing melodies to be replaced with the loud hums of cicadas and the rustling of leaves from the wind. You and Bo swam for hours, but it didn't feel like it, you were shocked when he told you the time after checking his pocket watch.

You stood behind him as your hands rubbed his back while your fingers pressed into the small water droplets that clung onto his skin. He was slightly shivering from the cold lake water, the feeling of the cool breeze race against his body, and he clinched his jaw in an attempt to fight against his shivering. With gentle arms you held onto him, trying your best to trap as much body heat between the two of you.

"My god, baby. You're shakin'! You need some more meat on your bones." You giggled out, pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

"You makin' fun of me, girl?" Bo laughed as he shook the water out of damp jet black hair. You squealed at the sudden feeling of cold water droplets flicking onto your skin, pulling away from Bo he quickly turned on his heel, grabbing your body back into his soaking embrace. He landed sloppy yet tender kisses on your cheek and neck, earning laughter from you under his touch.

The feeling of your giddy laughter against his bare chest sent him into a spiral. Your smile, your touch, your warmth.

You.

Everything about you made Bo feel as if he was home - as if he finally found the one thing in his life that he didn't realize was missing. And every time you two would separate from each other he would count down the seconds to see you again, to hear your voice, and to hold you within his arms.

His dark brown eyes peered into yours, smiling at the sight of your beautiful features, water from the lake clung within your long eyelashes and the short coils that framed your face. Underneath the sapphire colored evening your brown skin held onto the blue hues - as if you were blue yourself. And without thinking he blurted out: "I love you."

Your smile that rested on your face twitched downwards and you flinched back a bit at his words. Your arms were still wrapped around him but Bo could tell you were growing distant - he feared that this would happen.

"W-What...?" You whispered out in confusion, tilting your head to the side as you scanned Bo's face in hopes to understand what he meant by that. Love? He said he loves you, and hearing those words roll off of his tongue made you feel good - no it made you feel whole. Yet half of you denied that feeling. Surly he didn't mean it, right?

The sound of thunder cut into the tense silence that fell over the two of you, pulling away from Bo you reached for your overalls that rested onto the moss covered log. Stepping over jagged rocks you began to dress yourself - your back facing Bo in an attempt to avoid his eyes staring into you.

"I love you, darlin'. Please say somethin'..." Bo said as desperation hung on each and every word that he spoke, his eyes followed your sporadic movements, but he kept his distance. He knew that you weren't the best at communicating your thoughts and desires; so he acquiesced to your unspoken rule of not going 'too deep' into uncomfortable subjects like this. It took a lot of coaxing to even talk about sex with you openly. But Bo was also suppressing his true feelings about you, it was agonizing biting his tongue around you - he needed to let you know just how much you meant to him.

"You don't mean that." You replied as you turned to face him, your overalls hanging off of your hips, the straps were unbutton, so you wore them like pants. The hem of your panties peeked through the top of the denim, the soft fabric clashing with the dirt covered overalls. Your arms rested at your side and your face twisted with hurt, as if Bo said a cruel joke to you.

"I do, I mean it. I'm in love with you. And I-I'm down on my hands and knees beggin', baby...Beggin' you to just open up to me, just a little--"

"Bo, please!" You shouted, cutting him off. The whispers from the leaves rustling in the breeze echoed within your scattered mind as a tight lump formed in your throat. With a shallow breath of air, you continue to speak.

"Look at me, Bo...I'm not the kind of person people fall in love with, I'm just not built for that."

Bo spat out a curse in his native tongue as he began to dress himself too and he shook his head in disapproval at the unnecessary criticism you gave yourself. He couldn't believe his ears - he couldn't believe what you were saying.

"Why not?" Bo curtly asked and the loud clap of thunder rang through the hazy evening air, it would rain any minute now. You shrugged your shoulders at his question which earn you a bitter laugh from the man.

"Y-You should be with someone who ain't scared all the time, Someone who knows how to do this..." You stated, as Bo's eyes gazed into yours, taking in every single word that fell from your lips as you spoke.

"I-I don't don't know how to be what you need, Bo. I f-figured you'd realize that and move on - find a woman who is meant to be with you...Someone who isn't me." You rushed out and your once confident person deteriorated. You slowly reverted back into that shy woman that Bo met months ago.

"What do you think this is? Tell me. So, you think I only love you because you're some kind of fantasy, that what we shared is just some phase for me, or somethin'?" Bo's words were stern but they didn't lack the love he felt for you, it just pained him something awful hearing you swatting away his confession not because you didn't feel the same way.

But because you thought you didn't deserve it...

"I don't...I don't know." You choked out as your arms hugged yourself, making the wet bra strap that clung onto your skin slip off of your shoulder. For the first time in your relationship the pause of silence that you both shared was uncomfortable - agonizingly so. With a sigh Bo walked towards you, shortening the distance between both of your freezing bodies. Tiny raindrops fell from the swollen clouds that loomed overhead, the warm summer rain washed off the cold lake water that clung onto your skin.

"C'mere." Bo whispered as he opened his arms out to you; and you gladly entered his embrace. Your cheeks tingled with embarrassment and fear at the idea of scaring Bo away. You were never use to being treated with so much care - with so much kindness - and it overwhelmed you. You loved Bo, oh, God did you love him. You didn't want this connection to be severed by your own mistakes, so you thought keeping your distance would make him stay longer.

But keeping your feelings to yourself was a form of self-sabotage.

Your cheek rest against Bo's lean chest and you could hear just how fast his heart was racing, you weren't the only one who was nervous about losing this connection that you both shared. The once soft drizzle of rain began to beat down onto you and Bo harder, yet you stayed in his arms as his carful hands stroked your hair.

"You think I don't see you, girl? I see everything about you. The way you pick at your fingers before speakin', how you laugh when you're nervous, damn girl - even the way you fight back tears 'cause you think they'd make you look weak," he paused as his embrace tighten around your frame as the sting of tears blurred your vision. "They don't make you weak, you're brave - the bravest person I know and the world just don't get it. Yet you keep fightin', movin' along bein' yourself as the world casts you aside."

"Bo..."

"You're beautiful and I think about you all the time, you always show up in my mind from the moment I wake up to the second I fall asleep...I ain't felt this way in a long time, not like this. Girl, you really got a hold on me, so don't tell me that I don't love you." Bo finished as his fingers gingerly held onto your damp bra strap that hung off of your shoulder, placing the thin fabric over your collar bone.

The rain muffled out the sound of your racing heart beat that echoed through your head, your mouth slightly agape at Bo's confession. The feeling of being seen and understood was all you wanted - and he gave that to you without hesitation. Calloused hands cupped your face and a supportive thumb traced over your cheek, the feeling of love overcame you, and for the very first time in your life you let your guard down.

You let him in...

"I love you too."

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Hot summer rain beat down on you and Bo as thick raindrops slipped pass the canopy of leaves that hung above the two of you. With heavy footsteps your fingers interlocked tightly with his, both of you stumbling through the hazy fog. Stepping over gnarled vines, slick wet stones, and mud filled potholes that clung to the soles of your shoes - you both finally reached the edge of the woods. A loud crack of thunder made you jump within Bo's embrace, a breathless chuckle falling from his lips at your action.

Muffled sounds of wet shoes stomping onto the weather worn porch grounded you and the awning shield you and Bo from the heavy rain. A soft cast of ember light slipped pass the curtains that hung over the windows, your father was still downstairs - much to your dismay. Your calloused hands reached for the iron doorknob, twisting it gingerly in an vain attempt to not draw attention towards your presence of entering the house.

Your face twisted in slight annoyance at the sharp creak that the door made. With a tilt of your head you signaled Bo to follow you close by, the soft dripping sounds from your soaked close melted into the ticking of the grandfather clock that shielded your body from the living room your father resided in. Tiptoeing through the hallway you and Bo finally reached the white narrow staircase - the wave of anxiety slowly melted off of your body until a familiar raspy voice cut through the silence like a sharpen knife.

"That you, girl?" Your father blurted out, not bothering getting up from his seat. You and Bo froze in place as his eyes flicked towards you in worry. Your father was well aware of your relationship with Bo; but sneaking him in your bedroom without a ring on your finger is...Indecent to say the least. Your father was old fashion and if he saw how Bo clung onto you right now - he would probably have a heart attack.

Placing a finger over your lips, you signaled to Bo to keep quiet and you spoke: "Yea', Pa! It's me...Got caught in the rain is all, finna head to my room now."

Bo's face was pressed onto your wet shoulder as he tried to muffle the soft laugher that fell from his lips. You rolled your eyes and slightly elbowed him, which only earned you a playful squeeze on your sides, and his skillful hands slip under your soaked denim overalls. His hands cupped your breast through your bra - you didn't bother putting your shirt back on - you only wore the oversized denim as the wet fabric of your shirt hung lazily within your hand.

A low grunt of acceptance from your father made you race up the stairs with lightning speed, your fingers interlocking with Bo's again, and you lead him to your bedroom - locking the door as soon as he entered behind you.

"Uh, uh. Didn't know you was sneaky." Bo teased.

"Keep your voice down; these walls are paper thin..." You muttered.

"Tch, that's gon' be a challenge then. Y'know you loud in bed, baby." Bo beamed out as his handsome face melted into a mischievous yet playful expression. You gasp at his words and shook your head in disapproval as your hands slipped off the rain soaked overalls.

"Only reason I'm loud is 'cause you fuck me too good." You replied as Bo's once cocky demeanor shattered into shock. His eyes widen like saucers at your words, he was the one who would do all the dirty talking in bed, and you would hide your face in embarrassment with each word he spoke. But now something within you changed - as if a fire within your core was ignited - and Bo was ready to stoke that flame. Before he could whistle out praises you spoke again.

"Take those wet close off, hang 'em on that radiator, I'll make sure they get washed by the time you leave."

"Yes, ma'am." Bo sighed out as he followed your instructions. He tossed his damp vest over the heated metal, his hands quickly slipped off his grey pants, and lastly he removed his soaked white button up. He was only in his boxers now as his brown irises flicked towards your hunched frame that nestled within your closet, with a sigh of victory you pushed yourself on your feet, and soft towels rested within your arms as you faced Bo again.

"Them boxers too." You stated, as you tossed the towels onto the bed, only one was still in your tight grasp. A shiver ran up Bo's spine at your commanding words, his member stiffening within his underwear, straining against the damp fabric. He didn't tut out a comeback like he'd normally does, he just listened to your requestion without hesitation, tucking his thumbs under the tight waistband as he slide the fabric off of his toned body.

Bo stood naked in the middle of your room, the cool air within your home sent a wave of goosebumps on his skin, not to mention that your newfound confidence made him shiver with excitement and anticipation. You walked over to your lover, closing the unbearable distance as your placed your hand over his defined chest, your other hand drying him off with the soft cotton towel. Praises in Mandarin escaped Bo's lips as he melted under your touch, his hands holding onto your waist as he lulled his head back, the towel now catching the rain that clung onto his neck.

You placed a tender kiss on the crook of his neck as words in his native language rolled off of his tongue, Bo taught you phrases here and there to the point were you could understand some of the words he spoke, but the language was still foreign to you. Yet you understood him in this exact moment despite the language barrier, he was showering you in nothing but adoration and reverence.

He needed to be closer to you.

You moved the half damp towel down his pale olive skin, your fingers tracing the dips and valleys of his muscles as you dried him off, your hands stopping just above his jet black happy trail. Tense eyes stared back into yours as you softly spoke, your lips ghosting over his open mouth, it was as if he was trying to taste your sweet words.

"You said I got a hold on you, huh?" You whispered as your hands wrapped around his thick shaft, you began pumping his dick within your hand, making the man moan onto your shoulder. His hips bucked into your movements as you continued to jerk him, precum creating a natural lubricate, yet it wasn't wet enough for your liking. Pulling your hand away for split second you licked your fingers, slicking your digits with saliva. Bo watched on in awe as you wrapped your hand around him again. "You ain't lyin, well - your body ain't lyin, at least."

Bo was hard, probably the hardest he'd been in his life. He couldn't believe that the same woman who couldn't even maintain eye contact when they first met was touching him like this, turning him into puddy in her hands. Your lips wrapped around his neck as you began to kiss at his skin, the thumping of his pulse raced against your mouth, you were determined to leave a hickey behind as you sucked between bites.

Bo was the one who taught you how to make one, of course.

"Fuck, baby." He choked out as his eyes rolled back from the pleasurable sensation of your hand pumping him and your tongue soothing the bites you left on his neck. With a low wet pop your mouth stopped sucking at his skin - a purple and redish bruise bloomed across his olive skin - an you smiled into the kiss you planted on his needy lips. Your tongues danced in unison with each other and the feeling of his cock twitching within your hand earned a muffled moan from you.

But you quickly pulled away.

Bo hissed out a plea in Mandarin which made you place a finger over your lips, reminding him to keep quiet. Your fingers interlocked with his as you lead him towards your plush bed, his dark brown irises not daring to break away from your swaying hips with each step you made. Reaching for the other towels that rested on the warm sheets of your bed, you tossed the damp towel onto the ground, replacing a dry one within your fingers seconds later.

Playfully you tossed the towel over his head, resting it on his wet jet black hair that clung onto his skin, and he chuckled at your action. Taking your hint he began to dry his hair - yet the unbearable feeling of needing to be touched again raced through his entire being - you slowly slipped off your panties. The damp cotton hitting the ground with a soft thud.

His dark eyes trailed over your nude lower half as he bit his lip, the sight of your pussy made Bo's already stiffened cock jump with anticipation, a small whine escaping his mouth, the sound of his groan dripped with nothing but need. Noticing this with a laugh you sank onto the floor, resting your weight on your knees your hazy and lust filled eyes looked up at him.

Placing a feather soft kiss on the flush tip of his cock, filling your open mouth with him. Squeezing your bare thighs together to ease the ache of arousal that nipped at your core, your eyes shut tightly as the familiar yet comforting taste of Bo filled your mouth with each inch you took of him. Bo's body twitched above you as the muscles within his abdomen flexed from your tongue dragging against the thick vein that adorn his thick member, lulling his head back he placed the towel that was used to dry his hair over his mouth, muffling the moans that fell from his lips.

Nimble fingers moved up and down from the base of his cock to your mouth, you were still a novice when it came to oral, but this was going better than last time. You could barely fit him in your mouth without gagging previously, he was big and you still had some challenge, but that didn't stop you from trying. In fact it only made you want to push yourself even more - to see just how much you could fit his dick in your mouth.

"Mhm..." Bo voice groaned through the towel that shielded his mouth, he thought keeping quiet wouldn't be this difficult - but the way your tongue swirled around the tip of his member had him reconsidering his ability to do so. His calloused hand massaged your scalp, thick fingers latching onto the wet coils within your hair as his eyes rolled back the deeper you took him in your mouth, you hummed under his touch and the vibrations from you moaning around him sent shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

Looking down his chestnut colored eyes peered deeply into yours, which only egged you on to pump him faster with your hand, your tongue still swirling circles around him as you hollowed out your cheeks with each suck. Your long lashes blinking with each inch you took into your mouth, the taste of precum dancing on your tongue deliciously, and small tears of pushing your self well pass your limit clung onto the corners of your eyes. With a gag you pulled your swollen mouth off of him, the string of saliva that connected your bottom lip with the tip of his cock snapped with your sudden movements, yet your hands still pumped him as he rocked his hips under your touch.

The slick wet sound of you jerking him off echoed softly through your room, the cracking of thunder and the rain beating against your window muffled the raunchy sound just enough for prying ears not to hear, but you and Bo could hear it - both of you soaking up the sound as if it was music.

"Does that feel good, baby?" You whispered against his dick that rested on your lips, your hand still pumping him, and your tongue playfully flicked over the base of his tip.

You eyes still locked with his.

"Yes, my love. Fuck - I needa have you." Bo begged as he reached for you, pulling you up on your feet by your arms, and he planted a fevered kiss onto your open mouth. Your teeth bumped into his as he desperately clawed at the clasp of your bra, taking off the soaked fabric until your fully nude, just like him. Your skin was slightly wet from the rain, but Bo could care less - he needed you in this exact moment and he couldn't wait to have you. Grabbing the plush skin of your ass he placed you onto the bed, not breaking the kiss until you laid on your forearms.

Bo lips trailed down your body as his strong hand cupped your breast, kneading the soft skin as his fingers rolled your sensitive nipple between calloused fingers. You bit your lip in an attempt to stop your moans from slipping out as his head dipped between your thighs, his lips ghosting over your dripping core, and Bo placed both of your legs over his shoulders as he kneeled in front of you.

"I've been waitin' for this all day." He mumbled to himself, but those words made you gasp out a shallow breath that you didn't know you were holding, it felt good being desired so greatly. For a man to be on his knees between your legs - looking up at you as if you were a work of art - a holy entity that needed to be worshipped.

Bo placed a tender kiss on your inner thigh before dipping his head lower, and with a gentle lick he ran his tongue agonizingly slow across your soaked pussy. He was savoring the taste of you as if it was a delicacy, his warm tongue stopped at your clit, flattening the muscle over your sensitive bud until he repeated his movements.

You arched your back under his touch as your hands grabbed fistfuls of his hair, his soft tresses tangling around your nimble fingers. Your relax legs hung lazily over his broad shoulders as his mouth wrapped around your clit, his fingers slowly entering you as you rocked your hips against his face.

"Oh, my--Bo..." You moaned against the palm of your hand as Bo skilled mouth and tongue worked over your pussy, his nose brushing against your clit with each long swipe of his tongue against your core. The pleasurable sensation made your cheeks tingle and your face twist with pure ecstasy as Bo gently pushed his ring and middle finger inside of you, the bed underneath your trembling body slightly creaking as you snapped your head back from the feeling of his thick fingers inside of you.

"So good, I could die between your thighs if you'd let me, my love." Bo groaned out against your wet sex, you squirmed under his touch and heavy words. "You taste like heaven."

Slowly he moved his fingers in and out, his knuckles grazing against your swollen clit and your legs began to shake, but that only made him ramp up his movements even more. Your hands gripped the wet bedsheets that were soaked with rain water that clung onto your naked body and your chest heaved with each thrust his fingers made into you. Your feet fluttered, kicking the air as your rolled your hips, and the familiar feeling of reaching your climax bubbled within your core. You were close, and it seemed like Bo knew this too.

"W-Wait, baby." You yelped out which made Bo pause his movements, he pulled his mouth away from your clit, but his thick fingers were still nestled deep inside of you.

"What's wrong, you okay?" He asked, which made you nod your head. Catching your breath you continued to fuck yourself against his fingers, finally you spoke.

"I want us to finish, together - at the same time..." You whispered which made Bo smile from ear to ear.

"And how we gonna do that?" He asked as he slowly pulled his slick fingers out of you, the sensation making you shiver in delight, and you watched him placed his fingers within his mouth. His tongue lapping up the juices that clung onto his thick fingers - making sure that none went to waste.

You crashed your lips onto his as Bo hovered over you, tasting yourself on his mouth made your head race with lust, and your legs wrapping around his waist. But to his surprise you flipped positions, your legs caging him in as you straddled his waist, his hands holding onto your hips as he steadies you in place. Your forehead pressed against Bo's as his hand held the base of his cock, leaning forwards he lined himself with you, and with a satisfying sigh escaping both of your lips you sat down onto his thick member.

You both moaned into each others mouth, trying your best to quiet each other, and once your body adjusted to his dick stretching you out - you leaned back and began to ride him. Your bed squeaking with each movement of your hips snapping into him, but the thunderstorm was so loud, you're confident no one could hear the rusty bedsprings. Laying flat on his back Bo's large hands gripped into the softness of your hips, his fingers digging deep within your skin that you're sure they'd leave bruises behind.

Your palms rested on his hard chest as you used him to help you bounce on his thick member, your breast bouncing in his face while your wet pussy swallowed him whole - your body was finally use to being fucked by him. A sigh of pleasure fell from Bo's lips as he whispered praises to you in Mandarin, switching to English when you stopped your bouncing to roll your hips against him.

"You so pretty, baby--Fuck!" Bo hissed out as his eyes rolled back and his head lulled to the side, but you gripped his jaw, turning his head back to face you as you continued to ride him. He bit his lip at your action and a loud whimper fell from his mouth, his voice piercing through the rain and you're sure it could be heard through your shared home. The sounds of footsteps pacing up the stairs made you halt your tracks, and Bo groaned in agony as he lightly bucked his hips into you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry...You just feel too damn good." He whispered through heavy breathing, you and Bo looked towards your locked door as the footsteps grew louder. But by the grace of God the footsteps continued to walk pass your room, not stopping once until they faded into the background again.

"We gotta be quiet, baby," You whispered as your thumb stroke over his chiseled jawline. "It's hard for m-me too, you filling me up like this, but just relax and lemme take care of you, ugh...I promise we can be as loud as we want next time."

He didn't bother to spit out any words of acknowledgment - he just nodded his head desperately - and without missing a beat Bo's lips wrapped around your thumb. His sharp teeth grazing the skin on your thumb as he latched onto it, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked, silently signaling you to continue.

Which you gladly did without hesitation.

You started to move your hips again, continuing to bounce on his thick cock, the slick sounds of the back of your thighs hitting his legs with each thrust he made into you echoed through your body - you were fucking this man straight on his back - he's quite literally under your control. And he wouldn't have it any other way, he loved how good you felt squeezing around him, and his eyes snapped shut with a guttural moan.

You've rode him before, but not like this, and it was taking everything within him not to come in seconds. A creamy mess was quickly formed between the two of you, due to the friction and your wetness - the sensation of the velvety natural lubricant made your head spin as you rocked your hips with frenzy. Bo's hands left your hips as his strong arms wrapped around your waist in a tight hug, his hips rocks into yours, meeting you halfway as the creak of the bed slipped through the rain sounds.

Feeling the familiar pressure building up within core you leaned into Bo's embrace, your breast pressing firmly against his chest, and your head resting on his shoulder. Your lips pressed against the shell of his ear as tears of pleasure nipped at your eyes, the heavy tears slowly falling down your warm cheeks with each tender word you sang out, the words that only he could hear.

The words that he needed to hear.

"I love you...My Bo, I love you so much." You whispered and the feeling of his cock that nestled deeply within your core twitched at your words, he was dangerously close too. You and Bo weren't practicing the 'safest' of sex, to say the least - he would aways pull out and finish on his hand or your thigh depending on what position you both were in at the time. But when he was close, he would always tell you, asking where you would prefer him to finish.

"Fuck, I love you too, baby. I'm gonna...W-Where you want this?"

"Don't stop, please. I-I needa feel you, baby. At least once...Fill me up and make me feel whole."

And just like that Bo pressed his mouth against your neck as his eyes shut tightly, his hold onto your frame became vice-like as his orgasm ripped through his body like a tidal wave. His teeth bit into your skin in an attempt to muffle his moans as his release hit him and crashed into you, finishing inside of you as he bucked his hips forward lazily, his cum filled you to the brim, it was too much and the warm sensation made you shiver out in delight - he was giving you his everything.

It seemed endless as your thighs locked onto his, your body trembling from the warm sensation of being filled with his seed, the creamy mess of both of your orgasm froth between the two of you, clinging onto both of your pubic bones and abdomen. And with one last rocking of your hips you whimpered against his burning hot skin, the knot of lust that tugged at your core finally releasing.

Heavy breathing filled the cool air as Bo lovingly stroked your hair, grounding himself as his rapid heart rate steadied. You leaned into his touch as your cheek press firmly onto his rising chest, his dick was still inside of you - but you wouldn't mind the idea of him being inside of you like this for hours if he offered.

"Shit...I need a cigarette," Bo mumbled under his breath, which made you bellow out a sharp chuckle, a lopsided grin tugging onto your features. He looked down at you, laughter leaving his lips too. "You really laid it on me, girl. Yea'...you stuck with me now."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way...I love you, Bo."

"I love you too, angel."

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

tag(s): @pinkpantheris

#sinners fanfiction #bo chow x reader #bo chow x black reader #black reader #bo chow sinners #bo chow smut #bo chow x black!reader #bo chow x reader smut #bo chow x you

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andvys · 1 year ago

Text

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter three ⭐︎ So if you need to be mean, be mean to me

Warnings: angst angst angst! mean!Steve, bitchy!reader, slight allusions to unrequited love, mentions of Vecna and the upside down, argument, Steve being a dick to reader. and before anyone comes at me with the 'but your Steve is so ooc! he isn't mean anymore' this is a fic, this is enemies to lovers, you see the mean!Steve warnings, you know what you're getting yourself into.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve had buried his past self, King Steve was dead, but all it took was a little push for him to make a small appearance again, to rain nothing but chaos upon his already weak 'friendship' with you. You pushed him, and you did it a little too hard.

Word count: 5k+

Author's note: Big big biggest shoutout to my bestie @hellfire--cult for helping me and writing those evil evil lines, you're the best

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next chapter

♡

He regrets waking up that day.

He regrets saying yes to Robin and the kids to hang out.

He regrets picking up Max’s phone call.

If he wouldn’t have done any of these things, he wouldn’t be where he is right now.

Parked in front of your house so he can drive you both to Robin’s.

It’s been a week since the day at his place, a week since you had stormed out of his house, a week since he had last seen you. It almost feels weird. He can’t even remember the last time he had gone without seeing you this long. If you’re not hanging out with the group, he sees you going into the coffee shop across from Family Video every afternoon. Sometimes you even run into each other at Bradley’s Big Buy, but since last Saturday, he hasn’t seen you anywhere – it’s almost as though you had disappeared. Maybe he would have worried if it wasn’t for Max and El gushing over your shopping trip to Indianapolis the other day, he panicked when they told him that, thinking that you were driving again when you still weren’t allowed to, but El had calmed him down, telling him that you used the train.

With a sigh, he gets out of the car. He runs his fingers through his hair out of nervousness. He rings the doorbell and takes a step back, staring at the wooden door.

How will you even react to seeing him here?

You’re surely expecting Eddie, not him.

The door opens after a moment, revealing you on the other side, looking as beautiful as always – unfortunately. You’re wearing a white top, the soft pink stripes matching the color of your glossy lips, your skin looking soft and glowy as the sun shines into your house, the fading bruises are almost all gone, finally. The scent of your perfume, something sweet and flowery invades his space, and he can’t help but inhale it, feeling warmth blooming in his chest.

He takes you in, the way you look beneath the sun rays, the way your dainty necklace lies so prettily on your chest, the way your lashes touch your skin as you blink at him.

The smile on your face instantly fades away when you lock eyes with him, the usual grumpy frown takes over instead, that pulls him back into reality.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

Yeah, you’re only pretty and cute when you keep your mouth shut.

He clenches his jaw, trying not to show how annoyed he is already.

“Picking you up.”

You furrow your brows at him, “what? Where’s Eddie?”

“He forgot about his Doctor’s appointment, he had to rush out. Max called me and told me to pick you up.”

“Oh,” you nod and you stare at him for a long moment before a smile appears on your face, “she told you, huh?”

Caught off guard by the smile on your face, he stays quiet, only nodding at your words.

You chuckle to yourself, turning away from him to pick up your jacket and your keys. Surprising him by not fighting him, you step out of the house and close the door. You look him up and down, eying the keys in his hand.

“Can I drive your car?” You ask, tilting your head, “I promise I’ll take better care of it than you ever could.”

He snorts at your words, looking at you with an expression that almost makes you laugh.

“With that head injury? Yeah, not a fucking chance, Blondie.”

Rolling your eyes, you brush past him, already making your way over to his car.

“It’s been like what… a month? I’m all healed, I’m feeling peachy.”

“A month and you still get dizzy and don’t even lie about it.”

Once again, you keep quiet instead of throwing a smartass remark back, it makes him furrow his brows at you. Instead of opening the door, he leans his elbow on the roof of his car, looking over at you curiously.

You open the door and put one foot in before you halt when you notice him staring.

“What?”

“Did you fall on your head or something?”

You shake your head at him, scrunching your face up.

“You’re not fighting me, are you feeling okay?” He smirks.

Scoffing at his words, you flip him off before you get into the car without a single word.

He taps his fingers against the car, looking up at the blue sky with a smirk that turns into a content smile, he thought the bickering would start the moment you opened that door. Maybe today won’t be so bad.

Though when he gets into his car and he glances at you, you’re already staring back at him with that certain look in your eyes, the one that tells him everything he needs to know. Your eyes are glimmering with that smugness, the one that’s always there when you’re about to tease him with something that you know will annoy him.

“Is Nancy gonna be there?”

“Huh?”

You blink at him innocently as you fasten your seatbelt.

“Nancy, is she gonna be there? You know, since you only get the chance to be around her during these group hangouts,” you smirk.

He squints his eyes at you, biting back the bitter words that he was about to throw at you. He turns away and starts the car.

He backs out of your driveway and without a single word, he starts driving.

“Must suck being in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same, huh?”

He stares at the road ahead, blankly. He could swear there was a hint of hurt in your voice. He doesn’t look at you, despite feeling your eyes on him, he doesn’t look and only grips the steering wheel tighter.

“But what would I know,” you snort and he hears you leaning back in the seat, the leather squeaking a little as you try to get more comfortable.

Yeah, what would you know? He thinks.

You’re cold and you’re mean – he is certain that there’s not a single trace of love in your heart. How you care that deeply for Max will always remain a mystery to him.

“Are you a grandpa or something or where is the music!?”

“You make enough music for us.”

He turns to you for a brief second, to see you scrunching up your face at him, shaking your head in confusion.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Lego head?”

“Your yapping and whining is enough for me.”

“Oh, so you’re saying my yapping and whining is music to your ears?” You smirk. “Just say that you love hearing my voice.”

“Shut up,” he murmurs, glaring at you. He clenches his jaw and flicks the button to turn on the music.

Material Girl by Madonna starts playing and he instantly feels his heart dropping, his cheeks start glowing red – at least, that’s what it feels like. He grows flustered underneath your stare the moment you start laughing.

“Oh wow, I knew you were a girly girl, Harrington.”

He changes the song, calming down when some Duran Duran song starts playing instead, but you are still laughing, and he can only groan in annoyance, pointing his finger at you, “shut up, Blondie.”

Your face only grows more amused, and this is where the teasing begins and the drive to Robin’s house becomes a torture for him and he practically starts counting down the second till he can finally get out of the car that he usually loves being in.

He bites his tongue, not saying a single word while you yap away the way you always do.

What a fool he was for thinking that this day could have been good, you manage to ruin every day of his.

He can only stay quiet for so long.

“Do you ever shut up or do I have to make you!?”

That seems to shut you up. At least, for a moment. When he glances at you with angry eyes, he notices the smug look on your face that still didn’t stray away from you, not even after his words.

“And how would you do that?” You ask, mockingly.

He stares at your lips for a moment, clenching his jaw and gripping the gear stick tightly. He looks away as he turns left, pulling up in Robin’s driveway, he parks the car.

“I have an idea or two,” he mumbles and gets out before you can question him. He almost thinks that his words have stunned you, when you take a moment longer to get out of the car, but when you do and your eyes meet his, you smirk again.

He starts walking backwards, taking in the sight of you as you walk towards him. Your jeans hug your hips and your legs so perfectly that he begins to hate them. He almost feels ashamed for wanting to see them from the back. His eyes move up to your top, without intending to stare at your cleavage but he does.. and fuck, he hates how attracted his body is to you.

“So cocky and for what?” You chuckle as you brush past him, not noticing his staring.

Steve’s cheeks are red, his eyes instantly fall down to your butt when he turns around to follow you onto the porch. You move your hips and he has to clench his jaw.

It’s really a shame that he can’t stand you.

You ring the doorbell and patiently wait for Robin to open, you don’t spare him a glance, you don’t even turn around to tease him any further, he doesn’t mind it though, it gives him the chance to keep looking at you. Your skin looks soft and he sometimes catches himself wondering what it would feel like to touch you, it’s glowing and he can’t help but ask himself whether it’s because of the body cream that you put on or if it’s just this pretty on it’s own – not that he ever imagines you putting lotion on your body after a shower, definitely not.

“Oh great, you didn’t kill each other!” Robin’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he quickly looks away from you, clearing his throat.

Robin grabs your hand and pulls you into her house, only throwing a glance over her shoulder at him, “come on in Dingus, you know the way.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he walks in, watching the way his best friend pays more attention to you than to him. Not only did you nestle your way into his friend group, you had also seemingly nestled your way into Robin’s heart. He watches the friendship between you slowly blossoming and he can’t help but feel jealous of that.

He stays back in the hallway for a moment, preparing for a long evening with you.

He hears Robin talking your ear off already, Max and Lucas are in the kitchen too. But no one else is around. Nancy and Jonathan are on a date, he knows that, Jonathan gushed about it to Argyle before he left the other day and Steve couldn’t help but eavesdrop when he heard them talking about Nancy. The other teens are off doing god knows what. So much for the weekly group hangouts.

He hears your laughter and he can’t help but roll his eyes. It’s not the kind of laugh that he ever gets, no, whenever you laugh with or at him, it’s like you’re mocking him or making fun of him – not that he cares, he does the same to you. It’s your thing.

But for some reason it bothers him to hear and see you laughing like this with the others.

You get along with Robin, you get along with Eddie, you get along with the teens – hell, you even get along with Nancy even though you glared daggers at each other that day at skull rock.

With him, you’re either grumpy and rude or you’re just a snappy smug brat – which seems to be the case today.

Steve walks into the kitchen, putting on a smile to greet Max and Lucas with.

“Hey,” Max mumbles grumpily, only shooting him a brief and very forced smile before she goes back to her deep conversation with you.

Another grump, he thinks to himself. It’s not a surprise that the snappy teen likes you so much, you’re both the same person.

Lucas greets him with a handshake and a friendly smile, something that two of the three girls in this room should learn.

“Are you coming to my game next friday?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve nods.

“You can bring her,” Lucas wiggles his brows at him, gesturing to you with a wink, “as a date,” he whispers.

Steve scrunches his face up, as though he is disgusted by the thought of it – like he wasn’t just checking you out on the porch.

“You’re joking, right?” He mumbles as he looks over Lucas’s shoulder, glancing at you.

“No,” Lucas crosses his arms over his chest, shaking his head, “you are awfully mean to her, which means that you must like her.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he looks over at you again, in sheer panic, hoping that you didn’t just hear the ridiculous words that have left Lucas’s mouth. You’re too distracted by whatever story Max is telling you though, looking back and forth between her and Robin.

He looks back at Lucas to see him staring smugly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Isn’t that what you said to Dustin when he asked you for girls advice?” He snorts, shaking his head once again, “‘the key with girls is acting like you don’t care’” Lucas mocks quietly, chuckling after that.

Steve sighs, putting his hand on his hip, “he told you that?”

Lucas leans closer, “he sure did,” he smirks as he turns his head to glance at you before her turns back around, “I remembered it the other day, and it had me thinking–”

“Alright,” Steve interrupts him, he places his hands on his shoulders, “stop that, Sinclair.”

Lucas laughs, eying the flustered look on Steve’s face, who shoots him another glare before he steps away. He clears his throat, looking at the kitchen island where Robin had already prepared all the snacks.

He grabs two bowls, glancing back at Lucas, “help me carry the snacks over to the living room, man. These ladies are too busy gossiping,” he says, expecting you to turn around and throw a comment back at him, but you don’t.

Robin squints her eyes, nodding at him, “don’t give us the sass, Dingus.”

Lucas chuckles at her, he walks over to the kitchen island, reaching for the bowl of sour gummies and the M&M’s, “when is Steve ever not sassy?”

At that, you finally turn to face them, a smirk tugging at your lips, you don’t have to say anything to show him that you agree with Lucas.

He only rolls his eyes at you, no further words needed as he leaves the kitchen, stepping into the living room with Lucas trailing behind.

“Wow, you didn’t even say anything to her.”

Steve has to roll his eyes again, the teasing in his voice isn’t very subtle. He opens his mouth to speak when the doorbell rings and Lucas rushes out of the room before he can even move or say anything.

“Well, look at what the cat dragged in,” Lucas says after opening the front door.

“Found him on the side of the road.” Steve hears Eddie’s voice.

“Oh you two are such jokesters. You think I’d miss out on game night?” Dustin’s voice sounds through the hallway. “What are we even playing?”

Robin replies enthusiastically as she walks into the living room with Dustin by her side and Eddie tagging along, greeting Steve with a grin.

“Oh boy, the board’s definitely getting flipped today,” Dustin laughs.

Steve raises his brows, “you mean you will flip the board?”

Dustin tilts his head as he looks at his older friend, his smile turning into a playful frown, “hello to you too, Steve.”

“Henderson.”

Dustin claims the loveseat before anyone else can, slumping down with a grin on his face, he reaches for one of the sour gummies in the bowl.

“What’s wrong? Did your phone date not go so well with your girlfriend?” Steve teases.

“At least I have a girlfriend,” Dustin winks at him.

As you walk into the room, Lucas faces Steve again, with a teasing grin, “what do you mean, he’s got one too, she’s right there.”

Dustin gives him a funny look before he turns around with furrowed eyebrows, confusion flashing in his eyes before they widen and he turns back to look at a very unimpressed Steve.

“What!? You two are dating?” He shrieks loud enough for you to freeze in your spot.

Steve closes his eyes, shaking his head at him.

“Huh?”

Eddie rolls his eyes at Dustin, “Henderson, I think that Sinclair might have a little too much imagination over there.”

Lucas only shrugs, still grinning.

“You’re playing matchmaker with the wrong people,” Robin laughs, looking between you and Steve.

“Absolutely,” Eddie chuckles, sitting down on the couch next to her.

“Can we just play the game now?” You ask as both you and Max sit down on the ground in front of the board game that Robin had already put out.

“Ooh, we’re playing Ludo?” Dustin asks.

Everyone nods, everyone except for Robin.

“What?” She chuckles, cupping her cheek as she looks around, “that’s Wahoo.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head at her, “Wahoo?”

“That’s what the game is called,” Robin says, pointing to the board.

Steve watches the way you shake your head in confusion, slightly pouting as you stare at her. Fuck… you almost look cute.

As Eddie reaches for the dice, he throws it up in the air, catching it between two fingers, “this game is called Sorry! my friends,” he smirks, cockily. “We only need four players so who goes first?”

Lucas, who starts scarving down the snacks, waves a hand at Eddie, “I’ll sit this round out,” he says with a mouthful of chips.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth!” Max rolls her eyes at him.

“Red, Dustin, Robin and Steve go first,” Eddie says. “The master has spoken, now let the games begin,” he says in his deep voice.

Steve rolls his eyes at him, “this isn’t D&D dude, we don’t need a master.”

“Still.”

“Okay!” Robin claps her hands together, “let’s play!”

And as the game started, everyone laughed, everyone was having fun, everyone was joking around, it was all lighthearted. Dustin was throwing tantrums in his team with Robin, while Eddie snickered. Robin was a loser, and she accepted that she sucked at this game, competing against a bunch of stubborn teens. She was the first to sit out and stop playing. Max and Lucas preferred to stay out after the first few rounds, amused by watching the gameplay.

And then, Steve and you were outright competing as if it were a championship. Neither of you even noticed that it was only you two left, everyone else stopped playing a while ago, watching this intense competition instead.

While you took it all with ease, teasing him with a few jabs here and there whenever he was losing against you, Steve took it all a little more seriously. Because the moment he lost against you more than once, the anger in him started rising – not because of the game, but because of the looks you were giving him, those smug and cocky looks, the comments that weren’t even that bad – but everything, everything about you was pissing him off this day.

Your attitude this morning, your comments, your jabs, your arrogance, you’ve been getting on his nerves from the moment you got into his car.

And right now, he can feel his chest heaving, burning in anger and frustration.

His jaw is clenched, his eyes are hurting from the intense glares that you start giving each other.

Neither of you feel the eyes of the others on you two, the nervous glances, the warning ones because everyone knows what will follow after this.

You both want to win against the other so desperately and currently, it’s a tie between the two of you. He won three rounds, you won three rounds – this apparently will be the last one, this one will decide who will win this very meaningless, stupid game.

But Robin can’t take it any longer, she can’t keep watching the two of you getting angrier each passing second, knowing that this round will only lead to another, and both you and Steve could sit here all night, because you are both stubborn brats when it comes to each other – as it seems.

“Okay!” Robin throws her hands up, snatching the dice from Steve’s hand that he was just about to throw, “can you two stop? It’s a tie, move on!”

You and Steve look away from one another, raising your heads to look at Robin who glares at the two of you.

“We’ll finish and then we’re done!”

Steve groans at your words.

“No!” Robin shakes her head, “because one will win and the other won’t, and then it’s a fucking mess, so stop playing! You fought interdimensional monsters together, for fucks sake!”

“Right, that doesn’t mean anything.” Steve rolls his eyes before he looks back at you, only to see your face fall.

He almost feels guilty. You risked your life out there, not only for Max and Lucas but also for him.

“That doesn’t mean anything!? Well aren’t you fucking grateful, Harrington.”

“Everyone fought, not just you, don’t think you’re all high and mighty,” he mumbles through the anger that he is still feeling.

A part of him is begging to just move on and keep his mouth shut, but he is frustrated, not just because of the game, but because of you, every small comment from you reminds him of how much he can’t stand you.

“Hey, hey, hey, break it up,” Eddie says as he gets up from the couch, raising his hands up as he takes in the hurt but angry look in your eyes.

You shake your head, “no, no, let him keep going! I want to hear what this bastard with his hero complex has to say to me.”

Eddie can see the way Steve is fuming, the way the anger in his eyes gets stronger and stronger. He stands up, moving closer to you as you get up as well.

“You fought with us once. Once! And you think that makes you equal to us!? You have no idea what we all went through, you have no idea the people we lost along the way, you know nothing!” He snaps at you, ignoring the way you draw back as your eyes fill with something he can’t read.

Max straightens up in her seat, already reaching for her crutches as her eyes widen, seeing the way your lips twitch as blink up at Steve.

“Steve, stop!”

If he wasn’t so angry, he would have heard the fear in Max’s voice, something that normally would’ve made him draw back in an instant.

You glance at her, shaking your head, yet again. “No, Max, it’s okay.” You turn back to face him, looking into his eyes coldly – that’s the only look he knows, that’s the one he cannot stand. “What does Steve Harrington know about loss!?”

Steve feels his gut twisting, he clenches his jaw but doesn’t answer your question, he keeps staring at you.

“What? Mom and Dad left you the whole house to yourself, and you consider that loss!?” You frown, lifting your arm, you gesture to the people in the room. “I see Robin alive, I see Eddie alive, I see all of the kids alive, so who exactly did you fucking lose, Harrington?”

Behind the anger and the emptiness in your eyes, is sadness and pain, something he can’t see through the haze that he is in, right now. All he sees is something, someone he hates, someone who acts like she knows everything, someone who does nothing but bring chaos and anger into his heart and into a friends group that is so sacred to him.

He never felt this angry before, not even when he found Nancy with Jonathan, not even when she cheated on him and left, not during a single fight with his dad, nothing had ever made him feel such rage.

“You are so fucking horrible!” He snaps at you, not caring about anything, right this second. Everyone in the room disappears, Dustin, Max and Lucas are no longer there, and neither are Robin and Eddie, it’s just you and him now. “I hate the fucking day we ran into you at Skull Rock! You are the most despicable and cold hearted bitch I’ve ever met! I would be surprised if you ever loved somebody!”

He can’t see the shock or the pain that nestles into your features.

He doesn’t even hear the gasps from the others in the room.

“Steve!” Max yells, reminding him of the fact that she is there, that everyone else is here too.

The girl almost falls over when she jumps up. Lucas stands up as well, steadying her before she can fall. They both look at you, both of them see the hurt in your eyes, the way you helplessly stare back at the guy that you risked your life for.

Robin and Eddie stare at him in disbelief, not knowing the Steve that they are looking at, right now.

All that Steve can see is red though.

“No, Mayfield, let me fucking finish because she needs to understand how terrible she is.” He practically spits in your face, not tearing his eyes away from yours, at all. “I-I mean, don’t you ever ask yourself why you don’t have anyone? Why no one bothers to stick around because I’d be really surprised if someone did – even more, I would be surprised if anyone ever loved you at all. You’re not someone easy to fucking love, Blondie. Trust me on that.”

And the moment those words fall from his lips, the room falls silent, dead silent. His heart stops racing and his skin runs cold. Suddenly, he is brought back into the room, the haze fleeting away more and more and he can now see clear again.

And as he looks at you, really looks at you, his heart drops to his stomach and every trace of anger is gone, replaced by a guilt he had never felt before.

Your eyes are filled with tears as you stare at him with nothing but pain, not a single trace of coldness in them, not a single trace of anger or indifference or even hate for the man in front of you. All he can see is pain, pain, pain.. Your tears are welling up more and more, threatening to spill down your cheeks. Your throat bobbed up and down, like you are trying to gulp down the ball of nerves and sobs threaten to fall from your lips.

For a split second, he can see through you and he sees something there never was before – something that tells him that you would let him do this, until he’d get enough of hurting you, that you would let him break you, little by little. But, he had enough.

You look down as your bottom lip starts to tremble.

As he sees that, Steve feels like the most horrible person on the planet. Worse than his dad, worse than the monsters he had fought, worse than Vecna.

What had prompted him to throw such awful and vile words at you?

The guilt that takes over almost feels unbearable and the moment he wants to take back those words, to apologize, you are already gone.

Lucas calls out to you, but the slamming of the front door is all he gets back.

Before Steve can even look around the room, his back is slammed against the nearest wall and he is met by the sight of an angry Eddie, his eyes darker than ever, nose flaring as he grips the collars of his polo, pressing him harshly against the wall.

“I would fucking punch you in the face right now, Harrington. Don’t forget who was the first person to jump into the water to save your ass!” He yells at him, giving him one final push that knocks the breath out of him before Eddie lets go and leaves to go after you.

Steve looks down, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath.

“Steve… what the fuck?” Dustin mumbles, softly, staring at his older friend in disappointment.

Robin looks around the room, before her eyes lock on Steve, she looks at him in confusion, not understanding where all of this came from.

“Dingus.. what the hell was that? Why did you–”

“Everyone leave the room.”

It’s Max’s voice that sounds through the room, awfully calm. So calm that it takes everyone aback.

Lucas stares at his girlfriend, completely confused.

All it takes is a single look from her though and he and Dustin scatter out of the room. Dustin pulls Robin along who protests at first but follows when she looks back at Max, who only shakes her head.

It’s silent for a long minute, and Steve doesn’t know what to feel.

“That was fucked up, Steve.” Max says.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, fighting the tears that threaten to build up.

Not only did he hurt you, something he never thought was even possible. He also showed his friends a side of him he wanted to keep buried. A side that surely makes them feel less safe around him now.

“I-I know, I don’t.. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

Max purses her lips, looking down at the ground to avoid eye contact.

“She may not have been with us from the start, hell, I wasn’t either. It doesn’t mean that she didn’t experience it just the same. She may not have fought monsters, Steve. But the monsters have gotten to her without her knowing about them.”

You fought monsters, you fought the bats off of him.

He snaps his head up, staring at her with a frown on his face.

“Max I–”

The redhead shakes her head, anger and disappointment still on her face.

“I’m not the one you have to apologize to. I will not tell you her story, I’m not allowed to do that. But you are wrong, you are terribly wrong about everything you just said about her.”

She reaches for her crutches, giving him one final look before she leaves the room.

He stares at the ground with a gnawing feeling in his chest, hating himself more and more as the seconds go by.

The look you gave him will haunt him for the rest of his life.

How could he ruin everything in the span of a few minutes?

How could he not see the hurt in your eyes after only the first words that he threw at you?

How could he not see the vulnerable side of you?

How was he so blinded by the act you had put on?

He judged a book by its cover, just like King Steve had done in the past. There is no excuse. No fucking excuse for what he had done to you.

♡

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @livosssblog

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington #stranger things angst

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coveofsecrets · 3 months ago

Note

the platonic burning spice x child reader fiction WAS SO GOOD. maybe you could do a part 2 pls? you don't have to! 🤍

─── ✱*.��:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

"𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗"

-> Platonic! Burning Spice Cookie x reader

-> Warnings: Spoilers for Beast Yeast chapter 6, mentions of major character death, mentions of death

-> Word count: 966

-> waaaahahahahhaaa thank youuuuu <<33!! Not gonna lie, this was super challenging to do! Figuring out what Burning Spice would do as a character, and also his dialogue, was super difficult, but really fun! I hope you enjoy, Anon! This fic is a direct part two to this, so to understand this fic, please read the other one!

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Whispers in cracked corridors.

Rumors within dusty floors.

Stories spun along the breeze.

“Have you heard about the child Lord Destroyer’s been keeping?” Purple tail swaying, brushing against the owner’s fur.

“Yes…” Tongue flickering between fangs. “I have, but nobody’s allowed to see them, not even the general.”

“Well, I’ve seen the thing once, through the crack of their room door.”

“Really? What did they look like?”

“Weak.” A grunt. “Puny. If not protected, they would not survive even a second in this land.”

“Impossible! Why would The Great Destroyer allow a weak thing in his temple? There must be something about that child, if he's keeping it.”

“That’s what I’m thinking, too! Our lord prohibits any sort of interaction with that weakling, keeping them barred in there like a princess, so why does he have something like that?”

“Hmph. I’m not sure. Possibly untapped potential?”

“Plausible, but Lord Destroyer is not the kind of beast to recruit somebody for that…”

Red paws tapping against the floor, followed by a bark, “Are you two questioning Our Lord’s choices?”

The two squeak, “G- General-!”

“You both,” The Nutmeg Tiger growls, “I will not hear another word from either of you. The Great Destroyer’s thinking is something both of you cannot possibly comprehend, and for you to even try and grasp it is almost laughable. This could very well go for treason!”

“General, we weren’t meaning to go for treason-”

“Do not speak when you are spoken to, weakling!”

Purple mouth snaps shut, red eyes narrowing in almost defiance.

The tiger centaur pays no mind to it, instead choosing to continue. “Whatever Our Lord is doing, surely has reason behind it. I will not stand for you two questioning his divine plans. Is that clear?”

“Yes....” This time, the Cilantro Cobra speaks. “Our… apologies, general. We won’t do this next time…”

“Hmph.” A huff, “I hope you don’t. The Great Destroyer’s ideas are much greater than you lowlives.”

Burning Spice has no idea what he’s doing.

He should’ve killed you.

He should’ve crumbled your existence.

He should’ve laid waste to your form like he did before, once again leaving behind what he loved.

Yet, with his paranshu raised above his head, your eyes fearfully staring at the bright thing…

“Baba, baba!”

He remembers those same eyes looking up at him, as if he had hung up the stars themselves; your sweet voice calling for him as your bare feet violently pad over to reach their father.

God.

He couldn’t do it.

Burning Spice couldn’t kill his child.

No matter how much he wanted to, his body could not follow his command.

So what does he do now?

Burning Spice cannot kill you, so perhaps he could kick you out of here?

No, the spice storms will tear you apart.

If he lets you wander, his troops will reave your being.

Why does he care so much?!

His head has this horrible ache from all this thinking, so to make the confusing part of his brain happy, and to make this pain disappear, he sends you away.

To be more specific, he locks you in a room to which only a few cooks can come in to place food far away from you. Now, some part of him will be content, and also, he can stop looking at your pathetic self.

It takes months before he’s able to face you again.

Months before the Beast has to stop facing the present, and turn back to the past.

“Child.” Water hitting the sandy floors, he speaks. “Are you bored?”

…huh?

Sitting in front of this unfamiliar man, to the question, you pause.

Months of being held captive, with nobody except your own thoughts to keep you company, and when your captor speaks to you, it’s… this?

“Excuse?” You cannot help but ask for clarification, wondering if somehow you misheard.

To your question, though, the Beast’s eyes twitch. “I asked-” The sand starting to dry out- “if you are bored, child.”

Bored?

You heard right, which… only confuses you further.

“I am… confused on what you mean?”

“Do you need entertainment?” The desert is no longer blessed by the gentle touch of the rain, but it is not angry. “I presume that sitting in a room with nothing but your thoughts to occupy yourself is boring.”

Why is he asking that?

If you need entertainment?

What’s his goal?

You decide to echo your thoughts: “Why… are you asking that-?”

Only to be met with a scowl, lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth, the yellow things glinting off of the little light in the room. His eyes are narrowed, lashes blanketing red irises, barely concealing his fury. Soon, though, as if he saw something in your face, the creature forces his expression to flatten, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I would prefer-” he growls after a few seconds. “To not answer that question. All you need to know is if you’re bored. Is that clear?”

…huh… best not to press.

“Good. Now, answer my question: are you bored or not?”

“I… guess so, yes.”

Being stuck in a room for months on end, with nothing to do is not… fun, at all.

“Then what entertainment do you wish for?”

Entertainment?

You blink.

What entertainment is there? Actually, why is he asking if I must be entertained? Mm… I feel like I shouldn’t ask that.

“Conversation with you?” You eventually request, “I’d like to ask a few questions as to where I am.”

The beast’s nostrils flare, a corner of his lips twitching, but he acquiesces. “Alright. But if there is anything I do not wish to divulge, I shall not. Is that fair?”

Huh.

How easy.

Once again, you nod.

He's not being violent in me towards any way, and he hasn't made me do anything... if so, then why's he keeping me here against my will?

What does he want from you?

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom x reader #platonic cookie run #platonic cookie run x reader #crk #crk x reader #platonic crk #platonic crk x reader #burning spice cookie #burning spice cookie x reader #platonic burning spice cookie #platonic burning spice cookie x reader

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fardwader · 2 months ago

Text

you’re too good to me (and you know it, too) pt. 2

pairing: peter parker x fem reader

summary: For some unknown reason, Peter Parker cannot stop finding new, inventive ways to humiliate himself in front of you.

And for some reason, you keep helping him up anyway.

Or, the 5 times you save Peter— and the 1 time he saves you.

pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6

a/n: school is actually kicking my ass rn ahah but i'm finally done with finals hooray. pls enjoy this next chapter!!! wordcount: 2.1k

taglist: @ladylokilaufeyson5 @wlnut

tags: 5+1 fic, slow burn, friends to lovers, reader is annoyingly oblivious, peter is a sad dork, no use of y/n, sarcastic peter and an even more sarcastic reader, multi part, past gwen and peter, not canon compliant, gwen stacy is so beautiful...., crazu overuse of italics.

(two)

Peter Parker is a fucking idiot, a desperate one at that— the kind of idiot that gets himself stuck on fire escapes chasing down his ex.

In his defense, he hadn’t planned on following Gwen.

It just, sorta… happened.

He was grabbing coffee— minding his own business, when he saw her walking out of the conference center across the street.

Her platinum-blonde hair caught the light the same way it used to back when things still made sense. And suddenly, his feet were moving before his brain could say,

“Dude. No.”

Peter rationalizes this very stalker-ish behavior by saying he just wanted to see where she was staying, as much as he loves New York— it isn’t very safe.

He’s totally not trying to bump into her and have a totally normal, natural, totally not planned conversation that may— no, he fucking hopes— will lead to a reconnection like those cheesy rom-com movies they used to watch together.

Instead, he climbs up a rickety fire escape on the side of a brownstone she disappeared into, just hoping to catch a glimpse through a window.

Totally normal behavior.

But the window he had planned on crawling through was, surprise, surprise, locked– and no amount of budging, tugging, and honestly— praying– would get it open.

Now, he’s crouched down— hood pulled over his head, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible while contemplating all of the life choices that led him here.

“Why am I like this?” he mutters, slumping forward, forehead thudding against the rusty railing.

He exhales a long, miserable sigh that sounds like it carries the weight of the world— glaring at the pigeon that landed smugly a few feet away.

“Don’t judge me,” Peter mumbles at it.

The pigeon ruffles its feathers and flies off, which somehow feels deeply personal.

“Peter?”

Oh God.

He knows that voice, your voice.

The voice of the person who somehow always seems to catch him at his lowest.

You’re looking up at him from the sidewalk pavement, coffee cup in hand, face contorted in unmistakable confusion.

“What! No–no, nah, nope. Who’s– who’s Peter?” He rambles, voice lowering a few octaves in a very failed attempt to mask his own identity.

You blink slowly. “Why are you hiding in my fire escape? Are you living up there now? Is this, like, your new thing?”

Of course, the one time he gets stuck in a fire escape trying to creepily follow his ex, it’s your fire escape, your apartment.

He should’ve recognized the apartment complex he had found himself in after that one horrible, unfortunate night where he drowned his sorrows in bad beer and whined about his ex to a stranger— before waking up in said stranger's apartment.

Peter sighs, long and theatrical. “No. Yes. Kind of. I was just— Gwen—uh, she walked in there and—”

“Gwen? The Gwen?” you ask, incredulous.

There’s a beat.

The wind rattles the old rotting frame of the window that is currently trapping him up there.

He can’t seem to form the words in his throat, his face flushing with embarrassment.

“Okay,” you say finally, “stay right there.”

“Not really a choice,” Peter mutters.

You disappear into the building. He assumes you’re either going to let him in or call security.

He’s not sure which he deserves more.

Two minutes later, the window behind him creaks open with a painful groan.

Peter whirls around and sees you crouched inside, sliding it up with effort. You reach out and wave him in.

“Come on, Romeo. Before someone sees and calls the cops.”

He grabs your arm for support, squeezing his body through the tiny wooden frame.

You cross your arms. “So. You gonna explain?”

He pulls his hood down and flops onto his back, hair sticking out in all directions.

“She didn’t— She didn’t call,” he says, practically deflating.

You pause. And damn it, the way you soften in that moment— face morphing into nothing but understanding— it makes his throat ache.

“I just thought, if she was gonna come back, she would call, y’know. Ask to meet up or something.” He focuses on the dizzying pattern of the carpet, looking anywhere but your face.

“That’s stupid,” you say gently.

“I know.”

“Kind of sweet. But still, so stupid.”

Peter groans and throws an arm over his face. “God, I’m the human equivalent of a spilled drink.”

“Yeah, but like… a fancy one. Maybe with a little umbrella.”

He huffs out a laugh, but it dies in his throat when the sound of heels clicking echoes down the hallway outside the apartment.

You both freeze, like two stupid deer caught in the middle of a highway.

No words— just wide eyes and a beat of silence that feels like it could shatter glass.

Peter slowly lifts his head, scrambling up and creeping up to your peephole.

He leans in, squints, then visibly recoils.

She’s there. In all her horrifying glory, her perfect blonde hair styled back in a slick ponytail— black headband perched atop her head.

She’s as beautiful as he remembers, maybe even more, actually.

“Oh my god,” he backs away from the door like it’s practically radioactive.

“What? What is it?”

He spins back to you, wide-eyed, shaking his head. “Oh my god,”

Peter’s already at least halfway out the window and onto the fire escape, his lanky arms getting stuck in the wooden frame.

“This is it. This is how I die. Gwen Stacy catches me mid-pathetic-spiral, and I just combust on the spot.”

You grab him by the hoodie and pull him back in before he can do something even dumber. “She’ll see you if you go back out there. Just— get in the closet.”

He blinks. “What— what closet?”

You point. “That one. Go.”

Peter scrambles toward the small utility closet in the corner and practically swan-dives into it, bumping into a mop, a Swiffer, and at least five cans of Raid. He barely manages to tug the door shut as—

knock knock knock

You spin, tug your face in a tight smile, and open the door.

And there she is. Gwen Stacy.

All effortless elegance, like she walked straight out of one of his better memories, wearing a badge that says “KEYNOTE SPEAKER” like a crown.

She's stunning— even more stunning than you expected. The kind of stunning that makes time stall for just a second. You think you get why he was absolutely floored in that bathtub.

“Oh, hi! I’m uh, Gwen,” Gwen says, blinking in surprise, “listen, this might be a little weird, but do you live here?”

“Yeah. I sure do!” you blurt out, way too loudly, voice an octave higher than normal.

From inside the closet, Peter visibly cringes, the volume physically hurting him.

Gwen’s brows knit together slightly. “Sorry, I just— thought. God, this sounds crazy. But I thought I recognized someone on the fire escape earlier.”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P forcefully— a little too forcefully, causing a speck of spit to fly out of your mouth and right onto her pristine black blazer.

It almost moves in slow motion, like a car crash you can’t tear your eyes away from.

It finally lands, painfully clear against the black of her— no doubt expensive-blazer.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” you fluster, face warming in absolute mortification.

You frantically fumble your arms around, trying to wipe it off, but afraid of actually physically touching her.

She looks at the foam on her blazer, brows pinching together— before wiping it off with her sleeve, face stretching into a tight-lipped smile.

“It’s alright.”

A beat of unbearable silence passes between you two.

“So, it’s just you in here?”

“Uh, yeah. Just me in here, it’s just me,” you blurt.

Behind you, a muffled thud echoes from the closet.

Your eyes go wide.

Gwen tilts her head, curious. “Is everything okay?”

“Yep! Totally fine! That was just my, uh— cat!”

“Your cat?”

“My cat!” You’re fully sweating now. “Very big. Very... clumsy.”

Gwen gives a polite smile, clearly weirded out but too classy to say anything. “Well... sorry to bother you. I just wanted to make sure no one was in trouble.”

“No trouble here,” you say, physically blocking the crack of the door so she can’t see your closet. “Have a great conference!”

She lingers one more second, like she’s trying to place something, and then finally walks away, heels clicking smartly down the hall.

You sag in relief, peeking out the crack in the door just in time to catch her figure pulling out a tiny bottle of alcohol and spraying the spot with it.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, practically dissolving into the floor.

Peter swings the closet door, stumbling out, a little disheveled but absolutely horrified.

You tug your hoodie tighter around you as you and Peter step out onto the street, blending into the afternoon shuffle.

You’ve barely gone half a block before he groans again, dragging his hands down his face.

“I hid in a closet,” he mumbles.

“You dove into a closet.”

“In your defense, it was the best choice at the time,” you add helpfully. “Not that there were many.”

Peter shoots you a flat side-eye.

“At least you didn’t spit on her,” you mutter, rubbing your hands over your face.

“You spit on her?”

“No, like— uh, my mouth did that thing where like, when you talk, a little spit flies out–”

His cackle cuts you off; he’s laughing so hard he’s doubled over, almost stumbling on the sidewalk.

You feel your face warm. He’s never going to let you live this down.

“You spit on Gwen Stacy,” he says through a wheeze.

“Stop it! I just got really nervous. She’s just so beautiful. You didn’t mention that she was that beautiful.”

“This is why you shouldn’t fall in love with smart, successful women,” he says through another laugh, “They host conferences, catch you stuck on fire escapes, and make you spit on them.”

“You were not spying— okay, actually, you were. But not like… in a creepy way,” you protest.

Peter throws his hands in the air. “Is there a non-creepy way to stalk your ex and then get stuck outside on a fire escape because you wanted a glimpse at her?”

You think for a moment, but can’t seem to find an answer.

Peter groans. “I should’ve just stayed in the closet.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “You’re not staying in any closets. You’re dealing with your feelings like a semi-functional human being.”

He gives you a look that screams, Please.

“You followed Gwen because you’re sad,” you say more gently, “not because you’re an actual psycho-stalker. It just didn’t go the way you wanted. That’s okay.”

Peter doesn’t respond immediately. Just stares ahead, shoes scuffing the sidewalk.

“It’s like… there’s this version of me that existed when I was with her. And I don’t know how to be anyone else anymore.”

You bump his shoulder. “Maybe that version of you existed with her, but that doesn't mean it's the only version of you that exists.

You're still you, Peter.

The entirety of your being didn't just disappear when she walked away. You're allowed to grow past that chapter in your life. It doesn't mean you have to erase it though, or erase who you were. Just let it be one part of your story, one part of your past.

Not your whole life.”

Peter looks at you. And for a second— a breath, a heartbeat— something shifts behind his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but the silence stretches between you like a held breath. Quiet. Fragile.

You hold it for a moment. Just long enough for it to settle.

Then he lets out a low exhale, scrubs a hand over his face, and murmurs, “I can’t believe I got stuck in a fire escape.”

You blink— then snort. “I can’t believe I spat on your ex-girlfriend.”

A laugh bubbles out of Peter, warm and soft— and a second later, you’re laughing too, the sound rising up your chest.

This entire situation is completely absurd, and you both know it, too.

“Dude, I’m pretty sure your neighbors thought I was, like, a burglar.”

You grin. “Oh, they know there’s literally nothing in my apartment worth robbing.”

“That’s not true,” he says, lop-sided grin etching itself onto his face, “your couch is pretty soft.”

“If anyone steals my couch, Peter— I swear I’ll burn this entire city down to ashes.”

You walk the next few blocks side by side. Still a little sad. But, somehow, a little lighter.

Something warm settles in his chest, something quiet and steady. It's new, and kind of terrifying.

It’s not Gwen.

But maybe, for the first time in his life, he’s okay with that.

previous part !! or next part !!

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #x reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker fanfiction #fluff #tasm peter #tasm peter parker #peter parker x y/n #tasm peter parker x y/n

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hereforuconnwbb · 4 months ago

Text

Unexpected Halt - CHAPTER FOUR

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

~paige plays for uconn and azzi plays for stanford~

word count: 11.7k

warning: language, suggestive content

i was supposed to publish this a few hours ago but as i was going over it my dumbass wasnt rlly making any sense and there were some mistakes (i probs still forgot some in there😓) so i had to cut some bits and add more stuff so that its adding up properly (im hoping it adds up now... 🤞🏽) but yurrrr heres chapter 4 😏

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting lines across Azzi’s ceiling as she stared up, her mind stuck on last night. The teasing, the tension, the way Paige’s voice had dropped lower, her words making Azzi’s stomach flip. And then Caroline had walked in, snapping the moment in half before anything could actually happen.

Azzi groaned, throwing an arm over her face.

It wasn’t just what almost happened—it was how much she had wanted it to.

Her phone sat beside her on the bed, the screen dark, but she knew Paige usually texted her first thing in the morning. Normally, Azzi would check immediately, eager to see whatever dumb or teasing thing Paige had come up with. But this morning, she hesitated. She wasn’t sure where they stood after last night. Would it be weird? Would Paige brush past it like nothing happened?

Taking a slow breath, she finally grabbed her phone, unlocking it with her thumb. No messages.

Paige hadn’t texted.

Azzi exhaled, locking the screen and tossing it beside her. Maybe that was for the best.

—-----------------------

Across the country, Paige was lying in her dorm bed, staring at her phone. Still nothing from Azzi. She huffed, running a hand through her hair before rolling onto her stomach.

Was she supposed to say something first? Probably. But what? Good morning. Hope you slept well. By the way, you looked way too good in that tank top while teasing the hell out of me last night. Yeah, no.

She locked her phone and flipped onto her back, draping an arm over her eyes. The shift between them had been coming for a while, but now that it actually happened—now that they both knew—what were they supposed to do? Keep flirting until one of them finally cracked?

Minutes passed before she finally caved, unlocking her phone and typing out a message.

Paige: Morning.

She stared at the screen, waiting. Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then nothing.

Azzi had seen it. She wasn’t answering.

Paige raised an eyebrow. Oh, so that’s how it was?

She smirked, settling against her pillows, fingers moving quickly.

Paige: Ignoring me already? That’s cold.

This time, the response was quick.

Azzi: I was thinking about responding, but I didn’t want to boost your ego first thing in the morning.

Paige grinned.

Paige: Too late. You already admitted you were thinking about me.

Azzi groaned, pressing her phone against her forehead before replying.

Azzi: Don’t get ahead of yourself.

Paige: Can’t help it.

Azzi hesitated, then typed:

Azzi: …Did you sleep well?

Paige paused. A simple question, but they both knew what it really meant.

Paige: Took me a while to fall asleep. Kept thinking.

Azzi’s heart skipped.

Azzi: About?

The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Then finally—

Paige: Take a wild guess.

Azzi stared at the message, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Before she could respond, a loud knock on her door made her jolt.

“Azzi! We’re heading down for breakfast,” Caroline called.

Azzi exhaled, running a hand through her hair before quickly typing out a reply.

Azzi: I have a feeling we’re thinking about the same thing.

Paige’s response was immediate.

Paige: You should think about it more. I’ll be waiting. ;)

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away.

She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the warmth creeping up her neck. Paige was impossible. She knew exactly what she was doing, and the worst part? It was working.

Caroline knocked again, more impatient this time. “Azzi, seriously, we’re gonna be late.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Azzi muttered, pushing herself out of bed.

By the time she met up with her teammates in the hallway, she had forced her expression into something neutral. Caroline, of course, wasn’t fooled.

The second they stepped into the elevator, Caroline gave her a look. “You’ve been weird since last night.”

Azzi stiffened. “What?”

“You know what.” Caroline leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “You and Paige.”

Azzi nearly choked on air. “There is no ‘me and Paige.’”

Caroline just smirked. “Right. That’s why you’ve been checking your phone every two seconds.”

Azzi cursed internally. She should’ve known Caroline would notice. Trying to brush it off, she shrugged. “We were just talking.”

“Mhm.” Caroline clearly wasn’t buying it.

Azzi sighed, rubbing her temple. “Look, it’s—complicated.”

Caroline tilted her head. “Complicated how?”

Azzi hesitated. She and Paige hadn’t really defined whatever this was. Were they just flirting? Was it leading to something more? Did they even need to talk about it yet?

“I don’t know,” Azzi admitted.

Caroline nodded like she expected that answer. “Well, you better figure it out before one of you combusts.”

Azzi opened her mouth to argue, but the elevator doors slid open. Saved by breakfast.

—-----------------------

Across the country, Paige was stirring her cereal around her bowl, only half paying attention to the conversation around her. KK, sitting across from her, was watching her with narrowed eyes.

“You’re being weird,” KK finally said.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “How?”

KK pointed her spoon at her. “You’re distracted. You’ve barely said anything all morning.”

Paige shrugged. “Just tired.”

“Uh-huh.” KK wasn’t convinced. “You FaceTimed Azzi last night, didn’t you?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “What makes you think that?”

“Because every time you two talk at night, you act like this the next day.” KK smirked. “So what happened? More flirting? More almost moments?”

Paige huffed, shoving a spoonful of cereal in her mouth to avoid answering. KK just laughed.

“I swear, at this point, I should start taking bets on how long it’s gonna take for you two to finally do something.”

Paige nearly choked, coughing as she glared at KK. “Shut up.”

KK just grinned. “Oh, you definitely did something.”

Paige groaned, pushing her bowl away. She wasn’t going to survive this breakfast.

—-----------------------

Paige had a long morning of workouts, classes, and film study, but no matter how busy she kept herself, her mind always wandered back to the night before. The shift between her and Azzi was undeniable now. Their usual late-night calls had always carried a level of comfort, but last night had been different—charged. It had started with her checking in on Azzi, making sure she was okay after the loss, and somehow, by the end, they were toeing a line neither of them had explicitly crossed before.

Even now, sitting in the locker room before practice, Paige absentmindedly scrolled through their messages. The conversation had been light that morning, mostly filled with teasing over how Paige had “corrupted” their calls into something more suggestive, but she could tell that neither of them was ignoring what had happened. If anything, they were testing it, pushing at the edges to see where it would lead.

KK plopped down beside her, glancing at her phone. “You’ve been smiling at that screen for like five minutes. Wanna share with the class?”

Paige locked her phone immediately, shooting KK a glare. “Mind your business.”

“Oh, so that’s a yes.” KK grinned, nudging her. “Come on, I already know it’s Azzi.”

Paige rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. There was no point—KK had already pieced things together weeks ago. “You are actually the most annoying person I know.”

“And yet, you still love me.” KK smirked, dodging the half-hearted shove Paige sent her way. “So, when’s the next ‘accidental’ meet-up? Y’all are practically dating at this point.”

Paige opened her mouth to argue but hesitated. They weren’t dating—at least, they hadn’t talked about it—but the way they’d been acting lately…it was a fair assumption.

“Shut up,” Paige muttered, standing up before KK could keep digging. “I gotta go warm up.”

“Uh-huh, run away all you want. I know the truth,” KK called after her.

As practice started, Paige did her best to focus, but the thought of Azzi lingered in the back of her mind.

—-----------------------

Meanwhile, on the West Coast, Azzi was dealing with her own distractions.

She sat in the team lounge, half-listening to her teammates talk as she scrolled through her messages with Paige. The teasing was light, playful, but every now and then, a message made her stomach flip—like when Paige had casually dropped a “wish I could see you right now” in the middle of their back-and-forth.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating whether to say something just as bold, when Caroline sat down beside her. “You look like you’re having a very serious internal debate.”

Azzi sighed, locking her phone. “Just…thinking.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Thinking about Paige?”

Azzi groaned. “Why does everyone know everything?”

Caroline laughed. “Because you’re bad at hiding things.” She leaned in. “So, what’s going on now?”

Azzi hesitated, unsure how to explain the shift between her and Paige. She didn’t even know how to define it herself. “We’ve just been…talking more. It’s different now.”

Caroline smirked. “Different how?”

Azzi bit her lip, debating how much to admit. “Just…more.”

Caroline hummed knowingly. “So, when are you seeing her next?”

That was the thing—Azzi didn’t know. Their teams were both in the thick of their seasons, traveling across the country. The distance was always there, but lately, it felt heavier.

“No clue,” Azzi admitted. “But I want to.”

She didn’t realize just how soon it would be.

—-----------------------

The exhaustion hit as soon as Paige flopped onto the couch in the team lounge after practice. The day had been brutal—scrimmages, drills, weight training—Geno wasn’t letting up, and neither were the assistant coaches. She let her head drop back, closing her eyes for a moment, only to hear someone collapse onto the seat next to her with a dramatic groan.

KK.

“I swear, my legs are gonna give out,” KK muttered, stretching out with a wince. “If we don’t get a break soon, I might actually cry.”

Paige huffed out a small laugh. “You’re so dramatic.”

KK shot her a glare. “Am I? Or am I speaking facts?” She nudged Paige’s arm. “You’re just as dead as me, don’t even try to act tough.”

Paige smirked but didn’t deny it. Instead, she sighed. “Yeah, I’m tired as hell.”

KK was quiet for a second before she suddenly sat up. “Wait. Hold on. You do know we have a break coming up, right?”

Paige frowned, turning her head. “What?”

KK gave her a look like she was an idiot. “We literally get a few days off after the next game. How did you not know that?”

Paige blinked. She honestly hadn’t even thought that far ahead. Between practices, games, and keeping up with everything else, the idea of an actual break hadn’t even crossed her mind.

KK scoffed. “Wow. And you call yourself the leader of this team.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

But KK was already grinning, leaning toward her. “Sooo…what are you gonna do with your time off?”

Paige shrugged, grabbing her water bottle. “I don’t know. Probably just chill or go home.”

KK hummed. “You know…” She dragged the word out, her voice teasing. “A certain someone might have a game around then.”

Paige froze mid-sip.

KK smirked. “I checked. Stanford has a game.”

Paige slowly lowered her bottle, her mind already racing.

KK’s grin widened. “And I mean…you have all this free time. It’s kinda crazy how the universe works, huh?”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “Did you seriously just set me up for this whole conversation?”

KK laughed. “I literally just gave you the idea. The rest is on you.”

Paige shook her head, but she couldn’t fight the small smile forming. She had been thinking about how much she missed Azzi—this just gave her the perfect opportunity to do something about it.

Her fingers twitched against her phone, an idea forming.

“You should do it,” KK nudged her. “Surprise her. She’d lose her mind.”

Paige exhaled, already opening Instagram.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Maybe I will.”

She scrolled until she found Caroline’s profile and hesitated for only a second before typing out a message request.

Paige: Yo, I need your help with something. It’s about Azzi.

She hovered over the send button for a second before pressing it.

Now, she just had to wait. She set her phone down, trying not to stare at it like that would somehow make Caroline reply faster.

KK, of course, was watching her like a hawk. “You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”

Paige scoffed. “I’m fine.”

KK smirked. “Nah, you’re nervous.”

Paige just rolled her eyes, leaning back into the couch, arms crossed. She hated waiting. She’d much rather be taking action, but she also knew she needed Caroline on board for this to work. Azzi would probably kill her if she just showed up out of nowhere—okay, maybe not kill her, but she’d definitely be caught off guard.

Her phone buzzed.

Paige snatched it up immediately.

Caroline: ??? What did you do

Paige exhaled sharply, typing back.

Paige: Wtf?? Nothing. Chill lol. I just need your help with something.

It only took a few seconds for Caroline to reply.

Caroline: Mhm. Sure. What is it

Paige hesitated for a second before getting to the point.

Paige: I wanna surprise Azzi at her next game. But she can’t know.

The three little dots appeared, then disappeared. Then reappeared.

Finally, a message came through.

Caroline: LMAO. Oh, she’s gonna LOSE IT.

Paige smirked.

Paige: So you’re in?

Caroline: Absolutely.

Paige exhaled in relief. Step one—done.

Caroline: When’s your break again?

Paige: Right after our next game. That’s when I’d fly out.

Caroline: Alright. I’ll help you figure it out. But just saying, if you ignore her when you show up, she’s gonna be PISSED.

Paige grinned.

Paige: That’s kinda the point.

Caroline: You’re insane. I respect it.

Paige chuckled, already picturing how this would go. If there was one thing she knew about Azzi, it was that she hated being ignored. She’d get riled up, probably confront her about it, and—Paige wasn’t gonna lie—she kind of wanted to see that.

KK was still watching her. “Judging by your face, I’m guessing she’s in?”

Paige locked her phone. “Oh yeah.”

KK shook her head, laughing. “You’re really about to drive Azzi insane.”

Paige smirked. “That’s the plan.”

—-----------------------

It was the night after their blowout game against Xavier which also marked Paige’s last night before flying out to surprise Azzi. She barely slept—not because of nerves (she was sure Azzi would love the surprise once she got over being ignored), but because she had spent hours making sure every detail was planned perfectly.”

Her bags were packed and waiting by the door, her alarm set way too early, and her phone charged so she wouldn’t miss any updates.

When morning came, she slipped out of her dorm before most of her teammates were even awake, grabbing an Uber to the airport.

Once she checked in, she sent Caroline a quick message.

Paige: Made it to the airport. Boarding in like an hour.

Caroline: Damn, you’re really doing this. Azzi’s gonna lose her mind lol.

Paige: That’s the plan 😉

Caroline: She’s already pouting that you haven’t answered her all morning btw.

Paige: Good.

Paige grinned to herself as she made her way through security, tossing her phone into the bin before stepping through the scanner. When she got to her gate, she grabbed a quick breakfast and found a seat away from the crowd. She kept her hood up, half-watching the news on one of the overhead screens while checking her texts.

Nothing from Azzi.

Not yet, at least.

It wasn’t surprising. Azzi had already messaged her a couple of times yesterday, and Paige had forced herself not to answer. She hated ignoring her, but it was part of the plan. If she kept Azzi waiting long enough, her reaction would be even better.

Her flight got called for boarding, and she sent Caroline another update.

Paige: Getting on the plane. Next stop: Cali.

Caroline: Lmfao you’re insane. Safe flight.

Paige: Always.

She settled into her seat, threw on her headphones, and let herself relax as the plane took off.

—-----------------------

Azzi had checked her phone at least ten times that morning.

Nothing.

Her texts to Paige still sat on read. Her last message—just a simple good morning, have a great day ❤️—hadn’t even been acknowledged. Paige never ignored her like this.

She knew she shouldn’t be upset. Maybe Paige was busy. Maybe she had a team meeting or classes. But it didn’t sit right with her.

Caroline had noticed, of course.

“You good?”

Azzi sighed, locking her phone and tossing it onto her bed. “Yeah.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow.

Azzi groaned, flopping back. “She’s just… ignoring me. Like completely.”

Caroline hummed, pretending to think. “That’s weird. Maybe she’s busy?”

Azzi turned her head to glare at her. “You’re the worst liar ever.”

Caroline laughed, throwing her hands up. “Hey, I’m just saying! Maybe she’s planning something.”

Azzi’s frown deepened.

If Paige was planning something, why would she be acting like this? Paige wasn’t the type to just cut her off with no explanation.

She sighed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe she was overthinking. Maybe—

Her phone buzzed.

Paige: Hey. Sorry, been busy. Talk later?

Azzi sat up instantly.

What the hell? That was it? No explanation? No usual warmth? Just talk later?

Her jaw clenched as she typed back.

Azzi: Oh. Okay.

She didn’t even wait for a response before locking her phone and setting it aside.

She was done thinking about it.

Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

—-----------------------

Paige leaned back in her seat as she landed, stretching after the long flight. She sent Caroline another update.

Paige: Landed. Heading to the hotel now.

Caroline: She’s so pissed btw lol. Good luck.

Paige: Perfect 😈

Paige grabbed her bags, pulled up her hood, and made her way out of the airport.

Azzi had no idea what was coming.

—-----------------------

Paige dropped her bags onto the hotel bed, stretching out her sore muscles from the flight. She had a few hours before the game, and she needed to figure out what to wear. If she was going to make an entrance, she had to do it right.

She flopped down and shot Caroline a message.

Paige: What should I wear to the game?

Caroline: Idk, look casual but hot.

Paige: Wow. Helpful.

Caroline: Fine, fine. What are you thinking?

Paige: Short cargos? Maybe a white top?

Caroline: Okay, that’s a start.

Paige stared at her suitcase, then glanced at her phone again, smirking as an idea popped into her head.

Paige: What if I wear Azzi’s jersey on top?

Caroline: Ohhhh. Oh, she’s gonna fold. DO IT.

Paige: Bet. Where do I get one?

Caroline sent back a quick location for the nearest store that sold Stanford gear. Paige was out of the hotel in minutes.

By the time she found the store, she was practically jogging inside. She scanned the racks, eyes landing on the bold Fudd #35 jerseys. Grabbing one in her size, she rushed to the counter, throwing down her card before the cashier could even finish their greeting.

Ten minutes later, she was back at the hotel, slipping into her outfit: white tank, short cargos, and Azzi’s jersey on top. She checked herself in the mirror, adjusting the fit.

Yeah. This was gonna wreck Azzi.

She smirked, snapped a quick selfie, and sent it to Caroline.

Paige: Fit check. You approve?

Caroline: Lmaooo. She’s done for.

Paige: Exactly.

Now, all she had to do was show up and make sure Azzi saw her.

—-----------------------

Azzi couldn’t focus. No matter how hard she tried to shake the feeling, something was off.

It had started the night before, a pit settling in her stomach when Paige didn’t text her like she usually did before bed. It was stupid—she knew that. Paige didn’t owe her constant conversation. But after weeks of late-night calls, teasing texts, and stolen moments despite the distance, the sudden silence hit her hard.

She had tried to brush it off, convincing herself that maybe Paige had just fallen asleep early. But when she woke up to nothing, that pit in her stomach deepened. No good morning message, no random meme or TikTok link, no teasing remark about her weird breakfast habits. It was a complete shutout, and Azzi had no idea why.

Now, standing in the tunnel as her team prepared to take the court, she clenched her jaw, shifting from foot to foot in frustration. She hated distractions before a game, and right now, Paige was the biggest one.

Caroline nudged her shoulder. “You good?”

Azzi exhaled sharply. “Yeah.”

Caroline arched her brow, unconvinced. “You sure? You’ve been weird all day.”

“I’m fine,” Azzi insisted, rolling her shoulders back in an attempt to physically shake the feeling away.

She couldn’t let Paige mess with her head.

She had a game to win.

—-----------------------

Paige, meanwhile, sat courtside, heart hammering in her chest as she adjusted Azzi’s jersey over her white top.

The arena was loud, fans buzzing with excitement as the Stanford team ran from the tunnel on to the court for warmup. Paige kept her head low, fingers gripping the edge of her shorts as she tried not to make it obvious she was watching one person in particular.

Azzi looked locked in—at least, on the surface. But Paige knew her too well.

The tightness in her movements, the way her brows furrowed just a little too deep—it was clear something was bothering her. Paige swallowed hard, knowing exactly what.

Azzi was pissed at her.

And if Paige was being honest, she kind of deserved it.

But the plan was already in motion. She just had to hold out a little longer.

Her grip tightened on the fabric of Azzi’s jersey.

She couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she noticed her.

As the team continued warming up, Caroline bounced on her toes, shaking out her arms while scanning the crowd. She wasn’t searching for anyone—just soaking in the energy of the arena—when her gaze landed on Paige.

Blonde hair. Tied back into a perfect bun.

Caroline smirked. Of course.

She had already spotted Paige earlier, but seeing her now, sitting courtside like she owned the place, just made it funnier. Dressed in a plain white shirt with Azzi’s jersey pulled over it, Paige looked like she belonged in the Stanford fan section.

She sat back in her seat with a manspread, one arm draped over the chair next to her—all confidence and ease, effortlessly blending in. But Caroline could spot that smugness a mile away.

It was such a Paige move.

A slow grin stretched across Caroline’s face. She immediately gave Paige a thumbs-up, silently hyping her up for the bold play. Paige simply smirked, tilting her chin up in acknowledgment.

Caroline had to give it to her. This plan was genius.

Quickly, she jogged over to the sidelines, making sure Azzi was still focused on her warm-up before slipping past the other players. Paige saw her coming and grinned, standing up just in time for Caroline to reach her.

“You are so messy for this,” Caroline whispered, but her tone was pure amusement.

Paige chuckled, eyes flickering toward Azzi for a second before landing back on Caroline. “Good, right?”

Caroline bit her lip to keep from laughing. “She’s so pissed at you right now.”

Paige ran a hand down her face dramatically. “I know. She’s probably plotting my murder.”

Caroline smirked, shaking her head. “Nah, she won’t be mad once she sees you. Well—maybe for a second. But then she’ll fold.”

Paige grinned. “That’s the plan.”

Without another word, they dapped each other up, the silent confirmation that this was about to be so worth it.

Caroline quickly jogged back to the court before Azzi could notice she was missing, but her excitement buzzed under her skin.

Paige had played this perfectly.

—-----------------------

The energy in the arena was electric, the kind that buzzed through every inch of the building and made every movement feel heavier, sharper. The Stanford crowd was loud, and Azzi was locked in—jaw tight, eyes sharp, moving with that calculated precision that made her so lethal. Paige knew that look. It was the same one Azzi had before every big game, the one that meant she was about to turn up.

Paige leaned forward in her seat, elbows resting on her knees, eyes never leaving Azzi. The game had barely tipped off, but Paige was already locked in like she was the one about to step onto the court. Every move Azzi made, every shot she took, every defensive stop—Paige watched like her life depended on it.

Stanford’s offense flowed smoothly, and Azzi was at the center of it. She started strong, knocking down a smooth pull-up jumper off a screen, then cutting backdoor on the next possession for an easy layup. Paige smirked, nodding her head. Yeah, that’s my girl.

Caroline, who was subbing in at the scorer’s table, stole a quick glance at Paige and let out a knowing chuckle. Paige was so obvious. The way she sat forward every time Azzi touched the ball, how she reacted to every shot like she was playing herself, the small fist clench whenever Azzi locked up on defense—Caroline had never seen Paige so animated during a game that wasn’t her own.

Stanford was holding a small lead when Azzi got really going. She drilled a deep three from the wing, nothing but net, and Paige shot up in her seat, clapping hard.

“Hell yeah, Azzi!” she yelled before remembering where she was and quickly sitting back down, glancing around to see if anyone noticed.

Caroline caught it and definitely noticed. She shook her head, grinning as she ran back onto the court. This was gonna be good.

—-----------------------

The game stayed tight, the opposing team making runs to keep it close. Azzi was Stanford’s rock, steady and composed even under pressure. But Paige could see how badly she wanted this. She knew the little things—the way Azzi’s shoulders tensed when she missed a shot she knew she should’ve hit, how she bit her lip when she was deep in thought during a timeout.

Paige could feel her own adrenaline spiking as the game reached the final minutes. Stanford was up by two, but the opposing team had possession. Azzi was locked in on defense, shadowing her player step for step. The girl tried to shake her with a crossover, but Azzi didn’t budge, staying in front of her.

Paige sat up straighter, gripping the edge of her seat.

The girl went up for a contested jumper, and Azzi blocked it.

The crowd exploded. Paige exploded. She jumped up, her hands flying to her head before she let out a yell. “LET’S FUCKING GO, AZZI!”

Caroline turned toward the sideline and caught Paige’s reaction again. She smirked, shaking her head slightly. Yeah, Azzi was about to lose it when she found out Paige was here.

Stanford secured the rebound, and after a few free throws, the win was locked in. The final buzzer sounded, and Azzi exhaled, letting the tension drain from her shoulders as she high-fived her teammates.

She had no idea.

Caroline jogged over to her during the post-game huddle, casually bumping her shoulder. “Good game.”

Azzi sighed. “Thanks. That was a battle.”

Caroline nodded, then tilted her head slightly, her smirk barely contained. “You had a pretty enthusiastic fan tonight.”

Azzi furrowed her brows. “Huh?”

Caroline just gave her a pointed look before subtly tilting her head toward the sideline. “Look over there.”

Azzi followed her gaze, and—

She froze.

Blonde hair tied up in a bun. Her jersey.

Paige.

Sitting courtside, her smirk smug as hell.

Azzi’s breath caught. Her heart skipped a beat.

No. No way.

Paige was here?

Everything suddenly clicked. The constant text messages that Paige suspiciously stopped sending an hour before the game. The way Caroline had been weirdly smirking all night.

Her jersey.

Paige planned this.

Azzi’s eyes widened, her lips parting slightly as the realization sank in. She had spent the last day annoyed as hell at Paige for ignoring her—only to find out Paige had flown out here to surprise her at her game?

Azzi’s whole body tensed as the realization settled in. She didn’t know whether she wanted to yell at her or kiss her.

Paige had ignored her for the past day, leaving her annoyed, restless, and frustrated—just for this? A surprise that made Azzi’s stomach flip and her heart pound in ways she wasn’t prepared for?

She was still frozen in place when Paige—smug as hell—tilted her head slightly and shot her a teasing little wave. Azzi narrowed her eyes, her jaw clenching as Caroline barely held in her laughter beside her.

“Oh my God,” Azzi muttered, rubbing her temples. “She’s so annoying.”

Caroline grinned. “Annoying, but…”

Azzi exhaled sharply. “But this was… a lot.”

Caroline bumped her shoulder. “Just admit you love it.”

Azzi shot her a look, but her stomach was doing too many damn flips for her to deny it.

The rest of the team was still caught up in post-game talk, but Azzi’s attention was locked on Paige, who was casually leaning back in her seat like she hadn’t just driven Azzi up the wall for a full day.

She looked so satisfied with herself.

Azzi exhaled, running a hand over her face before mumbling, “I’m gonna kill her.”

Caroline just snickered. “Sure you are.”

Azzi shook her head, turning back to the rest of the team, trying to focus as they wrapped up post-game talks. But she could feel Paige’s gaze on her. She knew Paige was enjoying every second of this.

And worst of all? Azzi couldn’t even be mad.

She was supposed to be pissed—Paige had ignored her for a day and a half just for this—but instead, all she could think about was the fact that Paige had flown out here just to see her. Just to sit courtside in her jersey. Just to pull off a surprise that had Azzi’s whole mind spinning.

God, she was so whipped.

As the team started making their way toward the tunnel, Caroline leaned in and whispered, “So… you gonna talk to her, or are you gonna keep pretending you’re mad?”

Azzi shot her a look but didn’t answer.

Caroline grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

And then, before Azzi could say anything else, Caroline was jogging ahead—just as Paige, still radiating smugness, slipped past security and walked straight into the tunnel.

Azzi exhaled sharply. Of course she did.

Azzi took a deep breath as she walked toward the tunnel, trying to process the game she had just played. They had won, and everyone seemed to think she played well, but she knew she could’ve done better. Right now, all she wanted was to get back to the locker room and unwind.

But then she saw her.

Paige stood a few steps ahead, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, looking way too pleased with herself for someone who had been ignoring her for two days.

Azzi’s steps slowed, and despite everything, a warmth spread through her chest.

She almost thought she was imagining things. But no—Paige was actually there, standing in her jersey, paired with an almost unfairly good outfit. The white top underneath was just fitted enough, and the damn short cargo shorts had no business looking that good on her.

Azzi should have been mad.

She was mad.

Right?

Paige tilted her head, smirk deepening as she took in Azzi’s obvious reaction. “Hey, superstar.”

Azzi exhaled sharply through her nose, quickening her steps and stopping just inches away from Paige, eyes narrowed.

“You ignored me for this?” she demanded, voice low.

Paige didn’t flinch. If anything, she looked amused. “You mad?”

Azzi crossed her arms. “Yes.”

Paige’s smirk grew. “No, you’re not.”

Azzi clenched her jaw. “You ignored me for almost two days, Paige.”

Paige gave an easy shrug. “And?”

Azzi scoffed. “And I should be mad.”

Paige’s voice softened just slightly, teasing fading into something quieter. “But you’re not.”

Azzi bit her cheek, willing herself not to fold. But it was so hard when Paige was standing this close, looking at her like that.

Azzi sighed, the frustration melting into something much softer. “…You’re so annoying.”

Paige beamed. “And yet, here you are, melting for me.”

Azzi groaned. “I hate you.”

“Liar.” Paige’s voice dropped, her gaze flickering just slightly to Azzi’s lips before meeting her eyes again.

Azzi swallowed. Nope. She was not doing this here, in the middle of the tunnel, with the whole arena still buzzing outside.

Before she could step back, movement from the side caught her attention.

Caroline.

Azzi turned her head just as Caroline strolled up with a massive smirk, eyes flicking between the two of them.

“I knew something was up,” Caroline said, crossing her arms as she took in Paige’s outfit. “And you really thought wearing her jersey was subtle?”

Paige grinned, looking completely unbothered. “I mean… she noticed.”

Azzi hated how flustered she felt. She shot Caroline a glare. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Caroline ignored her, eyes gleaming as she leaned toward Paige. “So, when’s the wedding?”

Azzi groaned loudly. Paige just laughed.

Caroline held up her hands. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave you lovebirds alone… for now.” She winked at Paige and Azzi as she walked back.

Paige watched Caroline disappear into the locker room, shaking her head with a small laugh. When she turned back to Azzi, her teasing smirk softened into something warmer, more affectionate.

Azzi rolled her eyes. But her heart was still racing. Because as much as she wanted to be mad, all she could think about was the fact that Paige was here.

Azzi exhaled sharply. “I hate both of you.”

Paige just grinned. “Again… liar.”

They both let out a chuckle.

“C’mere” Paige murmured, opening her arms.

Azzi didn’t hesitate.

She stepped forward, melting into Paige’s embrace, her arms looping around Paige’s shoulders and fingers brushing against the soft hairs at the nape of her neck. Paige’s own arms wrapped securely around Azzi’s waist, pulling her in close, her hands resting just above her lower back.

Azzi let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, pressing herself deeper into the hug, her forehead resting against Paige’s collarbone. She could feel the steady rise and fall of Paige’s chest, the familiar scent of her perfume mixed with the faintest traces of laundry detergent and something so distinctly Paige. It made her relax in an instant.

Paige’s hands moved slowly, caressing Azzi’s back in soothing circles.

“You played so good, Az,” she murmured into her hair, her voice soft and full of admiration. “Seriously. You were locked in, making big shots, playing defense—key reason for that win.”

Azzi exhaled, sinking further into Paige’s warmth, letting herself enjoy the moment.

“You think so?” she mumbled against Paige’s shoulder.

Paige scoffed lightly. “Think so? Baby, I know so.”

Azzi felt her cheeks heat at the casual use of baby, but she didn’t pull away. If anything, she pressed closer. Paige chuckled softly at the reaction, her breath warm against Azzi’s temple before she placed a lingering kiss on the top of her head. Then another. And another.

Azzi closed her eyes, feeling the tension from the game finally dissipate.

“You know,” she murmured, her voice slightly muffled, “you look really good in my jersey.”

Paige smirked, her hands still caressing Azzi’s back. “Oh yeah?”

Azzi pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, lips twitching. “Yeah.”

Paige leaned in slightly, their faces mere inches apart, her voice teasing. “Should’ve worn it sooner, huh?”

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t fight the smile pulling at her lips. “Shut up.”

Paige just grinned.

Before either of them could say anything else, a loud voice interrupted.

“Alright, lovebirds, break it up,” Caroline called from the doorway, her arms crossed.

Paige sighed dramatically, her grip on Azzi tightening playfully for a second before she reluctantly pulled back. Azzi immediately missed the warmth.

“I gotta go before she starts really running her mouth,” Paige muttered, giving Azzi’s waist one last squeeze.

Caroline smirked. “Too late for that.”

Paige shot her a look before turning back to Azzi. “We’ll meet up after, yeah?”

Azzi nodded, then hesitated before quickly leaning in, pressing a soft kiss against Paige’s cheek. Paige’s eyes widened slightly, but she recovered fast, her smirk returning.

Azzi tilted her head. “Where are you staying?”

Paige blinked. “Oh, uh—hotel. Not far from here.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Which one? And what room?”

Paige chuckled. “You tryna rob me or something?”

Azzi gave her a look. “Paige.”

Paige bit back a smile. “Fine, fine. It’s—” she told her the hotel and room number.

Azzi nodded. “Okay. I’ll text you.”

Paige smirked. “Or you could just show up.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but fought back a smile as she stepped back toward the locker room.

Caroline, who had been watching the whole exchange with barely contained amusement, finally turned away.

And the second she did, Azzi took her chance—quickly leaning back in to steal another kiss, this time at the corner of Paige’s mouth before pulling away with a small smirk.

Paige blinked, momentarily stunned.

Azzi tilted her head. “See you later?”

Paige exhaled sharply, shaking her head in disbelief. “Yeah, Az. See you later.”

Azzi turned and walked off, leaving Paige standing there, staring after her like an absolute goner.

Had that just happened?

Her hand absentmindedly brushed against the spot where Azzi had kissed her, her brain trying to process the last few minutes. Azzi had been so soft with her, so quick to close the distance between them, so—bold.

Paige shook her head, a smirk pulling at her lips as she finally turned on her heel, heading out of the arena.

Caroline had been right. Azzi was folding.

—-----------------------

As she stepped outside into the cool night air, she pulled out her phone, quickly typing a message to Caroline.

Paige: solid W on the assist 👏🏻👏🏻

Caroline: I know. You owe me big time 😌

Paige: relax. All you did was tell me to wear the jersey

Caroline: yeah, and now she’s about to sneak off to your hotel later. You’re welcome.

Paige huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. Caroline wasn’t wrong.

She pocketed her phone and walked toward her hotel, feeling a little lighter with every step.

—-----------------------

Back at the locker room, Azzi was definitely not paying attention to whatever post-game speech her coach was giving.

Her mind was still stuck on Paige.

On the way Paige had pulled her close, on the way she smelled like something fresh and familiar, on the way her hands had traced slow circles against her back, on the way she had called her babe so easily.

On the way she had leaned in for that second kiss without even thinking about it.

Gosh.

Azzi clenched her jaw, forcing herself to focus.

She just needed to shower, grab her things, and then—then she’d figure out what the hell she was going to do.

She wasn’t backing out now.

Not when she had already asked Paige for the address.

Not when Paige had told her to just show up.

And especially not when her entire body was already aching for another hug, another whispered compliment, another anything from Paige.

She just had to play it cool.

Easy.

Right?

—-----------------------

Back in the dorm, Azzi stood in front of her closet, eyes scanning over her options even though she already knew what she was going to wear.

She had told herself—really told herself—that she was just going to keep it casual. Paige had only invited her over to relax, nothing crazy. They were just going to hang out, maybe talk about the game, just be together.

But somehow, she still found herself reaching for a fitted pink cropped tank top, one that showed off just enough to make a statement without trying too hard. She paired it with short, ripped jeans, the kind that hugged her hips just right.

Her hair was the last thing she focused on, pulling it into a slicked-back bun, leaving the front curls out to frame her face.

She stared at herself in the mirror, lips pressing together. Okay, yeah. She looked good.

Too good for just a chill night?

Before she could overthink it, her door swung open, and Caroline strolled in like she owned the place.

“Wow,” Caroline drawled, crossing her arms as she took in Azzi’s outfit. “So this is your definition of ‘just hanging out,’ huh?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, pretending to adjust her top. “What are you talking about?”

Caroline smirked. “Don’t play dumb. You’re dressing way too nice for a casual hangout in Paige’s hotel room. You tryna make her pass out the second she opens the door?”

Azzi felt her face heat up. “Shut up.”

“I mean—” Caroline gestured at her. “This whole thing? The top, the shorts? Paige is gonna gush. Probably won’t even let you inside without standing there admiring you for ten minutes first.”

Azzi huffed, shaking her head as she grabbed her phone and her bag. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m right though,” Caroline countered, grinning. “She already showed up to your game in your jersey. You might as well return the favor by making her speechless tonight.”

Azzi tried not to let the teasing get to her, but Caroline’s words settled somewhere deep inside her.

Was she doing too much?

Or—maybe—was she just finally letting herself do what she wanted to do?

Either way, there was no turning back now.

She was about to find out exactly how Paige was going to react.

Azzi took one last look at herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands down the front of her top before huffing out a breath. It’s just Paige. That thought should’ve calmed her, but instead, it only made her more nervous.

Her phone buzzed on the dresser.

Paige: Text me when you’re on your way.

Azzi smiled to herself, fingers hovering over the screen before she quickly typed out a reply.

Azzi: Leaving my dorm now.

She grabbed her pink jacket off the chair and slipped it on, zipping it up halfway. As much as she wanted to see Paige’s reaction when she took it off, she wasn’t about to freeze walking out of her dorm just for the sake of dramatics.

“Okay, okay,” Caroline said, watching her with an amused expression. “You’re already glowing. Relax.”

Azzi shot her a flat look. “I am relaxed.”

Caroline snorted. “Right. That’s why you’re fidgeting with your hoodie zipper like you’re about to walk down the aisle instead of, I don’t know, go see your not-girlfriend in her hotel room.”

Azzi sighed, shaking her head as she pulled the hood up slightly, if only to avoid giving Caroline the satisfaction of seeing how flustered she actually was.

“I’m leaving now before you make me rethink my entire life.”

Caroline held up her hands in surrender, but her teasing smirk never wavered. “Have fun. Or, you know, try not to combust when she inevitably loses her mind over you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, stepping out the door without another word.

But as she made her way outside, heart already racing at the thought of seeing Paige again—this time, with no game, no crowd, no distractions—she couldn’t help but think that maybe Caroline had a point.

Paige was going to lose her mind.

And Azzi?

She was so ready to see it.

—-----------------------

Azzi slid into the driver’s seat of her car, gripping the steering wheel for a moment before exhaling deeply. The night air was cool, but she could still feel the warmth on her skin from getting ready—whether it was nerves or excitement, she wasn’t sure. Probably both.

She started the engine and plugged in the hotel’s address, her phone screen illuminating her face as the navigation loaded. The drive wasn’t far, but it felt significant—like a shift in something she wasn’t quite ready to name.

The streets were quiet, the late hour making traffic almost nonexistent. With one hand on the wheel, she reached for her phone at the red light and shot Paige a quick text.

Azzi: Just got in the car. On my way.

A reply came almost instantly.

Paige: Bout time.

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile creeping onto her lips. The light turned green, and she pressed down on the gas, heart picking up speed along with the car.

As she got closer to the hotel, her thoughts started racing. She wasn’t sure what to expect—actually, that was a lie. She knew exactly what to expect. Paige waiting for her with that signature smirk. Paige leaning back like she had all the time in the world. Paige probably being annoyingly smug about Azzi coming all this way just to see her.

—-----------------------

She pulled into the hotel parking lot, turning off the engine but staying seated for a second. Her fingers drummed lightly against the steering wheel as she tried to calm the anticipation thrumming through her.

Then, her phone buzzed again.

Paige: You just gonna sit out there or you coming in?

Azzi huffed out a laugh. Of course, Paige was waiting for her.

She grabbed her phone, jacket still zipped up as she stepped out of the car and locked it behind her. Her sneakers barely made a sound against the pavement as she walked toward the entrance, pulse quickening with every step.

This wasn’t just a meet-up. Not after everything that had happened.

And she had a feeling tonight was going to change everything.

—-----------------------

Azzi stepped into the hotel lobby, the cool air conditioning hitting her skin as she scanned the quiet space. It was late, so there weren’t many people around—just the receptionist at the front desk and a few scattered guests lingering near the elevators.

Her phone buzzed again.

Paige: 5th level, Room 535.

Azzi exhaled through her nose, a small smile tugging at her lips. She made her way across the polished floor, slipping into the elevator and pressing the button for the fifth floor. The doors slid shut, enclosing her in the soft hum of the moving lift.

As she leaned back against the wall, her reflection stared back at her in the mirrored interior. She looked… composed, but her fingers still fidgeted slightly with the zipper of her jacket. The pink tank top underneath clung to her just right, and she could already hear Caroline’s teasing in her head about how much effort she’d put into getting ready.

A quiet ding signaled her arrival, and the doors slid open. Azzi stepped out, the hallway stretching out ahead of her in warm, dim lighting. The carpet muffled her footsteps as she made her way toward Paige’s room, heart thudding in a steady rhythm.

She barely had a chance to knock before the door swung open.

Paige stood there, leaning against the doorframe, one hand gripping the edge of the door while the other rested lazily on her hip. She was wearing a plain black hoodie and shorts, the sweatshirt hanging loose over her frame—Azzi could tell she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. And somehow, that made it even worse.

The slow smirk Paige gave her wasn’t helping.

“Took you long enough.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but stepped inside, brushing past Paige as she did. She caught the faint scent of her body wash—something clean and slightly citrusy—lingering in the air.

Azzi stepped further into the room, scanning the space as Paige shut the door behind her. It was a standard hotel room—neutral tones, soft lighting, a single bed that looked inviting—but the only thing Azzi’s mind really registered was Paige.

Paige, who stretched her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh before flopping onto the bed like she owned the place.

Azzi barely had a second to process it before her eyes caught on the way Paige’s hoodie shifted, rising just enough to expose the toned expanse of her stomach. The fabric bunched up slightly, leaving her abs on full display, and Azzi’s brain short-circuited for a moment.

Her mouth felt dry. God.

Paige had changed out of the jersey, now in just a hoodie with no shirt underneath and a pair of shorts that did nothing to help Azzi’s situation. The way she was sprawled out so effortlessly, completely at ease, made it even worse.

Paige’s eyes flickered to her, a slow, knowing smile forming.

“You just gonna stand there?” she teased, patting the spot next to her. “C’mon.”

Azzi inhaled slowly, willing her face to stay neutral as she made her way over. She tried not to overthink it as she sat down beside Paige, her body instantly feeling warmer, too aware of how close they were.

Even the minimal space between them felt like too much.

Paige shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow, and Azzi could feel the weight of her gaze. It was impossible to ignore.

The warmth in her chest only grew hotter.

- She exhaled through her nose, suddenly feeling stifled. Without thinking, she reached for the zipper of her jacket, tugging it down slowly. The sound of the zipper filled the quiet room, dragging far longer than it should have.

Paige had stopped moving.

Azzi could feel her eyes locked on her as she slid the hoodie off her shoulders, revealing the fitted cropped pink tank top underneath. She wasn’t usually this bold, but something about the air between them, the way Paige’s gaze darkened slightly, sent a thrill through her.

Paige’s lips parted slightly, her eyes trailing over her like she wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“Damn,” Paige muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Azzi to hear.

Azzi felt her stomach flip, heat creeping up her neck, but she just raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “What?”

Paige shook her head, a slow smirk tugging at her lips. “Nothing,” she murmured, her voice lower than before. “Just… you look really good.”

Azzi’s heartbeat stuttered.

The tension had shifted, thickened, like they were teetering on the edge of something neither of them could ignore.

Azzi swallowed, forcing herself to stay composed despite the way her heart pounded. She played it off with a small smile, tilting her head slightly.

“Thanks,” she murmured, feeling the warmth of Paige’s eyes still on her.

There was a beat of silence, thick and charged. Paige’s gaze lingered, and Azzi could feel it, feel the way it traced over her bare shoulders, her collarbone, down to where the fabric of her cropped tank top hugged her frame.

Then Paige shifted, leaning back against the pillows with a smirk tugging at her lips. “Damn,” she said, exaggeratedly fanning herself. “Is it just me, or is it getting kinda hot in here?”

Azzi’s breath caught.

Before she could even think of a response, Paige reached for the hem of her hoodie and tugged it over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it carelessly to the side.

Azzi’s brain short-circuited.

Paige was left in nothing but a black Nike sports bra and her shorts, her toned arms and defined abs completely exposed. The way the dim hotel lighting hit her skin only made it worse.

Azzi could not look away.

She felt warmth creep up her neck, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the edge of the bedspread as Paige stretched her arms above her head again, muscles flexing just enough to make Azzi’s throat go dry.

Paige shot her a knowing look, tilting her head. “Something wrong?”

Azzi blinked rapidly, trying to shake herself out of whatever daze she had just fallen into. “No,” she said, a little too quickly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Paige hummed, clearly amused, but didn’t push. Instead, she settled back against the pillows, arms folded behind her head, completely at ease—while Azzi was still trying to remember how to breathe.

The air between them was thick, heavier than before, like they were walking a fine line neither of them was ready to break just yet.

—-----------------------

Azzi could still feel the heat on her face, and it had nothing to do with the warmth of the room. She needed to look anywhere else—the TV, the hotel lamp, the bland paintings on the wall.

But her eyes betrayed her.

Paige was lounging so effortlessly, arms still folded behind her head, her toned stomach fully on display, abs flexing slightly as she shifted. She looked completely unbothered, like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Azzi swallowed hard.

The confident smirk on Paige’s lips told her she knew exactly what she was doing.

Azzi tried to play it cool, leaning back on her hands, pretending like she wasn’t struggling to keep her breathing steady.

“You’re really out here getting too comfortable, huh?” she teased, hoping to steer herself back to safer ground.

Paige just shrugged, her smirk deepening. “It’s my hotel room. Might as well make myself at home.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, forcing herself to glance away. “Yeah, well…” Her voice trailed off, but before she could even think, the words slipped out under her breath.

“You look hot, though…”

The second the words left her mouth, her body froze.

Her eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she realized what she had just said.

Paige definitely caught it.

The smirk on her lips turned into something sharper, more pleased, her blue eyes darkening with amusement as she lifted an eyebrow.

“What was that?”

Azzi wanted to die.

She cleared her throat, shaking her head quickly. “Nothing.”

Paige pushed herself up onto her elbows, her gaze locked onto Azzi’s like a challenge.

“Nah,” she said, biting her lip slightly. “I think I heard you say something.”

Azzi groaned, rubbing a hand over her face as she tried to recover, but her skin was burning. “Shut up.”

Paige chuckled, her voice lower, smug. “So you do think I look hot?”

Azzi refused to answer.

Paige leaned in slightly, tilting her head, her eyes practically twinkling. “Don’t worry, Az,” she murmured. “The feeling’s mutual.”

Azzi’s breath hitched.

The air between them shifted again, tension crackling like an unspoken challenge neither of them wanted to acknowledge just yet.

Azzi swallowed hard, pressing her lips together, but it was useless.

Paige noticed.

Of course she did.

That damn smirk was back, sharp and knowing, her blue eyes gleaming with something that made Azzi’s skin burn.

“You good?” Paige asked, her voice dipping into something lower, smoother.

Azzi blinked rapidly, snapping herself out of it. “Yeah—yeah, I’m fine.”

Paige hummed, clearly not convinced.

Then, without warning, she reached over, her fingers brushing against Azzi’s bare shoulder.

Azzi barely had time to react before she felt a gentle tug.

Paige’s fingers were playing with the strap of her tank top, toying with it slowly, dragging it between her fingers before letting it slide just slightly down Azzi’s shoulder.

Azzi swore her breath got caught in her throat.

Paige leaned in a little, her eyes flickering up to meet hers, her lips curling into something dangerously playful.

“You know…” Paige murmured, her fingers still tracing the strap lazily. “This reminds me of something.”

Azzi felt a shiver crawl up her spine.

“…What?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

Paige tilted her head, that knowing smirk deepening.

“That one night,” she said. “When we were on the phone. And you kept playing with your tank top strap.”

Azzi froze.

Her heart slammed against her chest as the memory rushed back—that night, when she had been teasing Paige, letting her tank top strap slip lower and lower just to get a reaction out of her.

And now Paige was flipping the script.

“I wasn’t—” Azzi started, but Paige cut her off with a soft chuckle.

“You so were,” she murmured, her fingers still tracing over Azzi’s shoulder, barely there, yet so much.

Azzi could barely breathe.

The air between them felt dangerous, charged with something unspoken, something they had been dancing around for so long.

And Paige? She knew it.

She let the strap slip just a little further, her fingers grazing Azzi’s collarbone, her touch featherlight, teasing.

Azzi felt hot. Everywhere.

The deliberate touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she barely registered Paige’s teasing voice.

“Didn’t think I’d forget about that little show you put on for me, did you?” Paige murmured, her voice smooth, edged with something unmistakable.

Azzi swallowed, heat pooling in her stomach. “I—I wasn’t putting on a show,” she tried to argue, but her voice betrayed her, breathy and uneven.

Paige smirked, eyes gleaming with mischief. She let the strap go, her fingers trailing featherlight down Azzi’s arm before settling on her waist. The warmth of Paige’s hand burned through the thin fabric, and Azzi’s pulse thundered in her ears.

Azzi tried to focus—tried to keep her eyes locked on Paige’s face—but it was impossible when Paige was sitting there, toned stomach and defined abs on full display, looking so effortlessly confident, so effortlessly… hot.

The tension crackled between them, neither willing to break first, until Azzi couldn’t take it anymore. Her gaze flickered down to Paige’s lips, and before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in, closing the distance.

The kiss was slow at first, almost hesitant—Paige’s lips molding against hers, soft and warm. But then Paige tilted her head, deepening it, and Azzi felt herself melt into her. Paige’s hands tightened on her waist, and in one smooth motion, she pulled Azzi fully onto her lap.

Azzi gasped against her lips, hands flying to Paige’s bare shoulders for balance. But Paige didn’t stop—didn’t give her a second to process. Instead, she kissed her again, harder this time, and Azzi responded in kind. Their lips moved in sync, breaths mingling, the room suddenly feeling much warmer.

Paige’s tongue swiped against Azzi’s bottom lip, teasing, asking for entrance, until Azzi parted her lips just enough to let her in. The moment their tongues met, a low sound rumbled from Paige’s throat, and Azzi felt it all the way down to her core. The kiss turned heated, tongues tangling in a slow, intoxicating rhythm, neither of them willing to pull away.

Azzi’s fingers curled into Paige’s shoulders, gripping tight as she lost herself in the sensation—Paige’s hands roaming up and down her back, Paige’s lips moving with a kind of confidence that made her dizzy. Paige kissed like she knew exactly what she was doing, like she’d been waiting for this as much as Azzi had.

Azzi barely noticed when Paige’s hands slid up, fingertips brushing just under the hem of her tank top, before retreating just as quickly. Teasing. Always teasing.

She pulled back, just enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against Paige’s. Paige’s hands stayed firm on her waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles against her skin.

Azzi licked her lips, dazed. “Wow.”

Paige grinned, eyes dark with something unreadable. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded, still breathless. “Yeah.”

Paige chuckled, tilting her head back against the headboard. “Told you you’d fold.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile forming on her lips. “Shut up.”

Paige hummed, her grip on Azzi’s waist tightening ever so slightly. “Make me.”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. She crashed her lips back onto Paige’s, fingers tightening against her shoulders. Paige barely had a second to smirk before she was kissing her back, matching Azzi’s urgency with just as much intensity. Their lips moved in sync, the heat between them undeniable, impossible to ignore.

Paige’s hands slid up from Azzi’s waist, fingers ghosting over the exposed skin beneath her tank top, teasing but never pressing too much. It drove Azzi insane—the way Paige knew exactly how to make her want more without giving it right away.

Azzi sighed against Paige’s lips, and that was all it took for Paige to take control. Without warning, she flipped them, shifting their positions so that Azzi was suddenly beneath her, head hitting the pillows. Paige settled between her legs, pressing her weight down just enough to make Azzi breathless.

Paige’s lips curled into a smirk. “That’s better.”

Azzi blinked up at her, wide-eyed and stunned. “H-how did you—?”

Paige only grinned, lowering herself down until their lips met again. This time, she didn’t rush. She took her time, savoring every kiss, making sure Azzi felt each one. Her hands roamed, fingers tracing patterns along Azzi’s sides before slipping under the hem of her tank top again, pushing it up just a little.

Azzi gasped when Paige’s lips left hers, trailing downward, along her jaw, down the column of her neck. She tilted her head back instinctively, giving Paige more space, her fingers threading into soft blonde hair as she felt Paige’s lips press against her skin.

Then she felt it—Paige sucking lightly, her lips lingering, her tongue flicking over the spot right below her ear. A shiver ran through Azzi’s entire body.

“Paige,” she breathed, her grip tightening in blonde locks.

Paige hummed against her skin, pleased with the reaction. She continued her slow descent, placing open-mouthed kisses down Azzi’s neck, lingering long enough to leave faint marks. When she got to Azzi’s collarbone, she bit down lightly before soothing the spot with her tongue.

Azzi’s breathing grew unsteady, chest rising and falling beneath Paige, heat spreading through every inch of her skin. Paige wasn’t just teasing her now—she was claiming her, making sure Azzi would feel every single place she kissed.

When Paige pulled back, her eyes usually light blue now dark and full of mischief, Azzi was left dazed, her lips slightly parted as she tried to catch her breath.

Paige smirked. “I wish I was able to do this sooner.”

Azzi swallowed, her pulse still racing. “Same,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Paige leaned in again, lips brushing against Azzi’s jaw before moving back up to capture her lips once more. The kiss was slower this time, softer, but no less intense.

Azzi didn’t know how long they stayed like that, tangled in each other, Paige’s lips on hers, on her neck, on her collarbone. All she knew was that she didn’t want it to stop.

Paige pulled back slightly, just enough to admire her work, her fingers lightly tracing over the faint marks she had left behind. A satisfied smirk tugged at her lips as her gaze flickered up to Azzi’s flushed face.

“You’re so sensitive,” Paige murmured, dragging a thumb over one of the marks just to watch Azzi squirm beneath her. “Look at this…” She pressed another kiss just below Azzi’s jaw, lips lingering for a second. “I barely even tried.”

Azzi exhaled sharply, her hands gripping Paige’s arms as heat flared beneath her skin. Paige’s voice alone was enough to set her on fire, but the way she was looking at her right now—like she had all the time in the world to explore every inch of her—was almost too much.

Azzi wasn’t about to let Paige have all the control.

With a spark of determination, she shifted slightly beneath Paige, tilting her chin up with feigned innocence before letting her fingers ghost down Paige’s bare sides, her nails dragging lightly over the toned skin of her abdomen.

Paige inhaled sharply at the touch, her muscles tensing.

“Oh, you think you’re funny?” Paige challenged, her voice dropping lower.

Azzi hummed in response, letting her fingers continue their slow, teasing path over Paige’s stomach, deliberately pressing against the defined ridges of her abs. She was fully aware of how much Paige loved being touched like this—how much she craved it, even if she’d never admit it.

Paige’s smirk faltered for just a second before she moved, effortlessly capturing Azzi’s wrists and pinning them down beside her head, intertwining their fingers.

Azzi’s breath hitched.

Paige hovered over her, their noses nearly brushing, their lips close enough that Azzi could feel the warmth of Paige’s breath. The weight of Paige’s body pressing down against her, the strength in her grip—it made Azzi’s head spin.

“Not so bold now, huh?” Paige teased, her lips hovering just above Azzi’s, taunting, waiting.

Azzi swallowed hard, her heart pounding against her ribs. She could feel every inch of Paige against her, feel the heat radiating between them, feel the tension wrapping around them like a thread pulled too tight.

Paige squeezed her hands gently, her thumbs brushing over Azzi’s knuckles. “What’s wrong?” she murmured, eyes flickering between Azzi’s parted lips and the flushed skin of her cheeks. “You were real confident a second ago.”

Azzi wasn’t sure if she wanted to push back or pull Paige down completely. Either way, she wasn’t backing down. She could feel the weight of Paige’s body pressing against hers, and the heat radiating between them was almost too much to ignore.

Paige seemed to sense the moment too, her grip loosening just slightly around Azzi’s wrists. She gave her a brief, teasing smile before flipping them over in one swift move. Now, Paige was leaning back against the headboard of the bed, with Azzi straddling her lap. The change in position was electric, and Azzi’s heart raced as she looked down at Paige, feeling the weight of the moment.

Paige’s hands slid up Azzi’s back, pulling her closer until they were pressed flush against each other, like an embrace that somehow felt more intense than anything they had shared before. Paige buried her head in the crook of Azzi’s neck, her breath hot against her skin. The gentle rhythm of Paige’s exhales made Azzi shiver, and she let out a small breath as she leaned into the comfort of the embrace.

“I need you to message Caroline,” Paige said softly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s skin as she spoke. “Let her know you’re spending the night with me. Tell her you’ll be back tomorrow so she doesn’t worry.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment, but she nodded, the gentle pressure of Paige’s arms around her easing any lingering uncertainty. She reached for her phone, fingers tapping out the message quickly. As soon as she hit send, her phone buzzed with Caroline’s response: “Well, look at you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… ;)”

Paige grinned, pulling back slightly to look at the marks she’d left on Azzi’s skin. A soft smile tugged at her lips as she traced her fingertips gently over them, her touch lingering with a possessive tenderness that sent warmth through Azzi’s chest. Then, without a word, Paige placed several soft, lingering kisses over the marks, her lips gentle and warm against Azzi’s skin.

Once Azzi finished texting Caroline back, she raised an eyebrow and let out a playful laugh. “It’s not fair,” she said with a teasing smile, “I’m the only one with marks.” Without waiting for an answer, she leaned down, brushing her lips against Paige’s neck and leaving a few marks of her own.

The heat between them seemed to rise again as they met each other’s gaze, and in that moment, it was clear: things had shifted. The playful teasing, the laughter, the soft touches—all of it had led them here. The connection between them had deepened in ways neither of them could fully explain, but neither of them wanted to pull away, either.

As they kissed again, it was slower this time—gentle but full of meaning. Azzi could feel every sensation as their lips met, the warmth, the sweetness, the promise of something more. The kiss lingered, not rushed, but full of a quiet intensity. But eventually, they pulled back, both of them breathing a little heavier, the air between them felt thick with unspoken tension. Paige’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, her hand lingering close to Azzi’s, unsure whether to close the distance again or pull away.

Paige’s voice broke the silence, hesitant, almost stuttering. “Azzi… I— I really need you. But, if… if you don’t want this, we can stop, okay? I don’t want to rush you or—”

Azzi’s heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat. The hesitation in Paige’s voice, the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes—it made something deep inside her ache. She couldn’t stand the thought of Paige doubting this, doubting them.

She cupped Paige’s cheek, her touch both soft and certain, her thumb brushing lightly over her skin. “Paige,” she murmured, her voice steady despite the wildfire in her chest. “You don’t have to worry. I want this. I want you… so bad.”

The words carried more weight than she expected, wrapping around them, filling the space between them. For a moment, Paige just stared at her, something vulnerable flashing behind those blue eyes before she let out a shaky breath. The tension that had held them so tightly for so long seemed to break, melting away as Paige turned her face into Azzi’s palm, pressing a lingering kiss there before threading their fingers together.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. She closed the space between them, her lips meeting Paige’s in a kiss that was slow, deep, and unrelenting—full of every unspoken word, every bottled-up feeling, every ounce of longing they had been too afraid to voice. Paige responded just as desperately, her fingers tightening around Azzi’s like she never wanted to let go.

Their lips moved together with a newfound certainty, each touch infused with trust and desire, as if they were finally allowing themselves to embrace what had always been there. The hesitation that once lingered between them was gone, replaced by the undeniable pull drawing them closer. In this moment, nothing else mattered—not the world outside, not the doubts they’d once wrestled with—just the quiet, electric connection between them.

Paige’s hands found the hem of Azzi’s cropped tank top, her fingers brushing against warm skin as she slowly pushed it upward. She hesitated for half a second—giving Azzi the chance to stop her, to pull away—but Azzi only leaned in closer, her breath hitching as Paige tugged the fabric over her head and tossed it aside. The sudden cool air against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, but Paige’s hands were quick to chase the warmth, palms skimming over her back, pulling her in like she never wanted to let go.

Azzi barely registered anything else—the soft rustle of sheets as they shifted, the way Paige murmured something against her lips, or the way her own hands instinctively found their way to Paige’s bare skin. All she knew was the heat between them, the slow, intoxicating press of Paige’s body against hers, and the unspoken promise lingering in every touch.

The rest of the world faded away, leaving only them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #wbb

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writeonwhiskey · 13 days ago

Text

summer in seoul: ch 11

a/n: for anyone that read this fic the first time around, this is where things will start to change a bit as i continue editing and (finally) complete the story 😅 enjoy! oh and there's a link in the chapter a chan fancam for the song just picture him shirtless, k? 😘 word count: 2.7k

The pesky, persistent buzz of a phone is the first thing you hear in the morning. You open your eyes to find which of your phones is the culprit but the first thing they land on is Chris, sleeping through the disturbance. The buzzing stops and the room falls completely silent.

Well, almost completely silent—save for his soft snoring.

Seeing him in this relaxed state makes it hard to bridge the gap after last night’s discovery. The version of Chris you’ve spent time with feels so down to earth that you can’t fathom what larger than life persona others must have of him in their mind.

But you can absolutely understand why they would adore him.

“Chris,” you whisper, brushing back the dark curls covering his forehead, causing him to stir.

“Morning,” he mumbles, not even opening his eyes as you continue playing with his hair.

His hand reaches around you to cup your ass over the t-shirt you borrowed. As he caresses and realizes you have no underwear on, he peeks an eye open. His hand slips beneath the shirt to palm your bare cheek.

“One of our phones was going off.” You tell him.

“It can wait a little while,” he replies. “There’s something else we have to address right now.”

“You’re right…like your promise to play me a song first thing in the morning?”

His eyes fully open at that, now seemingly wide awake. He laughs and immediately removes his hand to duck underneath the blankets. You move up on the bed, resting your back on the pillows and hold the blanket down when he tries to crawl back out. He laughs and starts tickling you, causing you to squirm while doing your best to keep the blanket in place.

He abruptly stops moving and falls silent. Then, his hands grip your knees and push them apart. You squeal at the sudden movement and in your moment of shock he’s able to lift the blanket.

“Shh,” he shushes you before lowering the blanket and disappearing again.

He pushes the shirt up to your stomach and trails kisses down from your belly button to your pussy. Your head falls against the pillows, feeling his mouth and tongue against you.

You sigh, your eyes fluttering shut as you allow him to lick and lap, until you come to your senses. You move the blanket to expose him, and he halts his movements, lips pressed to your pussy, eyes staring up at you.

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“Is it working?”

You shake your head, smiling mischievously as you decide how to counter his tactics. You hook your legs around his waist and use all the strength you can muster to flip both of you over. With you on top now, his hands grip your ass as you press your chest against his.

“This is good too,” he approves.

You lace his chest with kisses, sliding back on the bed until your face is between his legs. You rub your hand over the growing bulge in his boxers; eyes locked on his. He clenches his jaw, lips slightly parted.

You keep caressing his cock until he’s fully erect beneath your hand. You then slip your fingers through the slit in the boxers to pull it out.

“Should I put it in my mouth?” you tease, squeezing the base.

“Yes,” he breathes. “Or sit on it.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” you kiss the tip and swirl your tongue around it.

“I really fucking would,” he reaches down to wrap his hand around yours, making you squeeze his cock harder and stroke it.

“I’ll do both,” you tell him before taking his cock in your mouth. You lower your head slowly, and just as his hand comes up to tangle itself in your hair, you pop your mouth back off. “After you play a song for me.”

You sit back on your heels with a smile.

He groans, grabbing a pillow to cover his face. You snatch it away.

“If you fulfill your promise, I will too.”

“This feels like extortion. Blackmail. Something.” He looks down at his cock with a frown. He grips it with one hand and tries to reach for yours with the other, but you move out of his reach. “I don’t know what to play for you. Maybe it’ll come to me if you fuck me first.”

“Nice try,” you say. “Let shuffle decide…and if you don’t like it, just hit next.”

He mumbles something beneath his breath as he shoves his cock back in his boxers. He stands, pulls on his sweats, and grabs his phone from the nightstand. You turn around to face him as he powers on a Bluetooth speaker.

He sighs, leaning back against the wall with one hand rubbing his neck as he keeps scrolling through his phone. Damn it, he’s cute when he’s flustered.

He finally presses play on a song. “If you don’t like it, hit next.”

[ easy ]

The music starts and he tosses the phone next to you.

The lights on the speaker change in sync to the beat and your body instinctively starts moving too. A voice starts rapping and your eyes widen—you were not expecting whatever he played to go this hard.

You have no clue what’s being said, but the sound is unlike anything you’ve heard. There’s a dark, heavy bass with a moody, almost hypnotic vibe. It’s a blend of trap beats, warped vocal effects and lyrics that flow right over the beat. And just when you think you’ve gotten used to it, it switches to something different but equally as pleasing. There is a sprinkle of English words every now and then, not enough for you to gather what the song is about, but that doesn’t even matter.

You weren’t sure who the first people were, but you recognize Felix’s deep voice as soon as you hear it. You smile at Chris as you continue nodding along and moving your body to the song. He shakes his head, covering his face with his hands.

“This is fucking fire, Chris,” you say, but he keeps his face hidden.

“I just make it easy—TA, TA, TA,” plays through the speaker and then the beat switches up again to something softer, more sensual sounding but with so much going on in the background still. Your mouth drops at the recognition of who’s singing. It’s Chris. His voice is low as it glides over the music, and shockingly erotic in a way you can’t quite put your finger on.

“If there’s a performance for this, I need to see it,” you say, standing to walk over to him. You pull his hands from his face, trying to lock eyes with him. “Now.”

He immediately brings his hands up again and laughs as he blatantly avoids eye contact with you.

There’s no way. No fucking way he could be this shy after not only fucking you the way he has, but also having sang on a song like this. You know what he’s capable of, how he’s made you feel with just a look or touch, the confidence he has as just a regular man. You’re trying to imagine him on stage, full of that confidence, but amplified by a thousand.

How can he act so sheepish right now?

“Cut that shy shit out, sir. I think we’re past all of that.”

He finally lifts his gaze and steps closer to you, placing his hands on your hips.

“Please don’t make me,” he pouts. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I’m not buying it,” you brush him off. You step back, sit on the bed and clap your hands together twice as you say, “Chop, chop.”

When he still hesitates to move, you cock your head to the side and blink expectantly.

“Okay, okay,” he concedes.

He’s caught up in thought for a moment, listening to what part the song is at. As it approaches the pre-chorus, he seems to find his place and starts moving.

At first, he’s clearly half-assing it. He’s doing the choreography, but like a kid who’s being forced to put on a show for their parents’ friends.

“I need more passion. More energy.” You shake your head disapprovingly.

He grins and licks his lips and in an instant there’s an abrupt change in him.

When the “TA, TA, TA” part comes up again he hits the moves with a veracity you’ve only seen in him during your intimate interactions. You’re left speechless as you watch. You don’t even know what your face is doing at this point and you’re too enthralled with his performance to care.

When he brings his hands together in front of him and does a body roll, you think you could lose your mind. He’s biting his bottom lip as he does it, staring directly at you. His demeanor has shifted dramatically from the shy act he was putting on just moments before, as if he knows what he’s doing to you.

You’re thankful that he’s clad in nothing but his sweatpants right now. His arms and torso are exposed, allowing you to enjoy every muscle as it stretches and flexes with his movements.

You shift on the bed—you certainly asked for this, pushed for it even, and now you don’t know what to do with yourself as you watch. His movements are sharp, and you’re blown away by the amount of control he has over his body, but he makes it look effortless at the same time.

“Come and watch me now,” the song says as his facial expression changes again to one that makes you want to push him against the wall and act out the fantasies stomping through your head. You’re completely in awe and don’t want to look away for a second. You don’t even know if you’re blinking anymore.

He performs the remainder of the song and when it’s over, he’s slightly out of breath, but didn’t even break a sweat. It shows just how much he was putting into it. You clap your hands together, smiling wide, and he immediately goes back into bashful mode.

He collapses on his back next to you. You promptly climb on top of him, straddling his waist. He closes his eyes as you run your hands up and down his chest, still breathing heavily.

“I’m only going to say this once…” you begin.

He opens his eyes.

“That was amazing, Chris. The song, the dancing…I won’t ever force you to do it again, but I would never decline an offer to see more.” You grin. “I can hear and see the time and effort you put into every part of what you’ve just shown me. Thank you, for sharing it with me.”

He scrunches up his face and shakes his head, unable to accept the compliments.

“It was nice seeing that side of you,” you continue, placing your hands on either side of his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying getting to know you—to know Chris—but I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide Chan from me, okay?”

He nods, wrapping his arms around your back before pulling you down to him.

“You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now,” you breathe.

He puckers his lips for a moment and taps his chin, as if in thought.

“I might have a slight idea.”

The smile that plays out on his lips makes you want to smack him. He has to know how he looks when he’s performing. He has to know the effect him in his element has on people.

His phone starts to vibrate again but he ignores it.

He cups the back of your neck and brings your lips down to his. You grind your hips against him as his other hand slips beneath your shirt to cup your breasts. But the phone continues its persistent plea to be answered, and you try to pull away. He holds you in place, deepening the kiss.

“Chris.” You turn your head. “It could be important.”

Of course, you want nothing more than for him to continue to ignore it, but you swore you wouldn’t let hooking up get in the way of your responsibilities.

“But you promised to both suck and fuck,” he says quietly, turning your head back to him.

As if on cue, the vibrations start again.

He sighs and grabs the phone. You sit up on his lap as he looks at the name of the caller.

“Shit,” he swears, sitting up too and putting the phone to his ear.

His other hand falls to your waist as a look of concern takes over his features. Once again, you have no idea what’s being said, but it sounds serious. He taps your thigh lightly and you slide off him.

He stands and starts pacing, rubbing at the back of his neck, running his hands through his hair. The conversation ends with him repeating the same word several times and nodding.

You feel at a loss, not knowing what is happening or if there’s anything you can do. When he tosses his phone on the bed, he just stands there, palm on his forehead, fingers tangled in his hair.

“Work?”

“Yeah…shit,” he sighs. “I have to head down to the label for a meeting, I’m sorry.”

You immediately shake your head and climb out of the bed to embrace him.

“Don’t ever be sorry for that,” you say as he hugs you back, squeezing tightly.

“You can hang here if you want, or I can drive you back to your hotel on my way.”

You’re tempted to stay—after last night surrounded by people, the thought of being alone in your hotel room sounds dreadfully boring. But, you also don’t know how long he will be gone or if his roommates have plans.

“The second one.”

You take a step back and he offers a small smile, but it doesn’t quite feel right. It’s not forced or fake it’s…sad. You want to know so badly what caused him to feel this way so suddenly. But it’s not your place to ask.

You change back into your clothes and follow Chris downstairs. Changbin, Han and Felix are awake in the living room—Jeongin is still sleeping. Chris stops to speak to them and whatever he says doesn’t seem good either judging by the looks on their faces. He jerks his head in your direction towards the end of his monologue.

Felix speaks up after that, “You want to stay for breakfast?”

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother,” you shake your head.

“You’re not,” he replies. “We’ll keep you company until he’s back.”

Chris turns to you then—and something about the way he looks makes you want to be here when he comes back. To comfort him, to be whatever he needs.

“Okay, then. I’ll stay.”

“We’ll take good care of her, hyung.” Han says.

“You better.” Chris replies.

The way he says it sounds like he really means it, too. It sparks a warm, tingly feeling inside of your chest that you don’t know what to do with.

Chris starts towards the elevator, and you follow.

“I’ll text you when I’m done?” he asks, taking your hand in his.

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I hope everything goes well,” you say, wanting to convey all the emotions you’re feeling about whatever is happening in your tone. You don’t know if it gets across, though.

“Me too.”

“You should worst-case scenario it.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, I don’t know what the issue is and I’m not asking you to explain it to me, but just…try to think of the worst possible outcome. Usually, it’s never as bad as what we imagine.” You shrug. “It was something I used to do with my dad whenever I was stressing out about something.”

He gives you another sad smile, “I’ll try it.”

The elevator chimes and the doors open. He steps inside and presses a button.

“y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’ll be here when I get back,” he replies as the doors close.

You don’t have a chance to respond before they’re fully shut, but your heart feels like it could burst.

a/n: ahhh i love that body roll move in "easy" 🤤 picturing him performing that just for me AND shirtless? oof.

[ read chapter twelve here ] (coming soon)

@hanniesbubuwife / @valworld17 / @luckyroll3 / @fancybarbii / @mlink64 / @ehstay / @gncbnahc / @no1likeneo / @beppybeesnuggets / @lattyjiji

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #skz x you #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz imagines #bang chan #bang chan fluff #bang chan smut #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #bang chan imagines

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mari-lair · 6 months ago

Note

hello ! i love your fics and analysis! I was wondering which tbhk ships you think will become endgame?

Anon I have the most white bread of answers but since you asked-

1 - Hananene.

Nene starts the manga by wanting a date. It doesn't matter with who, any hot guy will do. She has many infatuations but isn't in love with anyone, she just want to be loved.

Nene has a lot of small character developments in different areas throughout the manga, but her strongest and most consistent change is her increasing love for Hanako and her acceptance of it.

She is still a girl with a ton of emotions, and she finds hot people attractive BUT now she want Hanako and only Hanako. She rejects everyone she used to have a crush on, there is no doki doki's when she gets the attention of pretty people cause they aren't the boys she wants attention from anymore.

Even Teru doesn't compare to Hanako. She went on a 'date' with him and felt more excited about bragging than the actual 'date'

AND SHE DID NOT BRAG when hanako got back, she just wanted to enjoy that he's back.

I don't even know why I am going so in dept on the couple stablished since chapter 1 but since i'm already rambling: Despite everything crazy going on in the festival NENE'S BIGGEST FOCUS WAS TO CONFESS TO HANAKO. That's something she thinks more about than her own death, like girl- Hanako is her whole world. She will not get a romance with another person.

There is the question of "Will Nene survive?"

If she doesn't, she'll disappear and have no boyfriend but I bet she'll be thinking about Hanako in her death. If she finds a way to become a supernatural in a very wild narrative choice she will be able to stay with hanako in their cursed eternity forever.

In the case she lives and Hanako gets exorcised she won't move on. Aidairo loves tragedies and obsessive love, so I can't see her approaching crushes with the same whimsy after her love dies. And Aidairo would likely preffer to make her suffer in her grief and longing than give her a rebound with some random guy, cause it sure won't be Kou.

2 - Mitsukou

My personal preferences aside, it is clear they are written to have romantic implications. Kou will either die with Mitsuba (As shown in the new timeline), and stay with him in death.

Or live to have an intense homoerotic 'friendship' with him.

He legit can't get mitsuba off his head, he thinks about him more than anything during the manga and he has A LOT of problems to think about.

I can't personally picture an explicit confession but we had a lot of equivalents already. It would be weird for Aidairo to send them to the aquarium, make Kou obsessed with mitsuba (and vise verse), show that they are 'very very close' in this new timeline, keep drawing them star-struck by each other and so on without romance in the head.

Kou is also never able to put his feelings into words, like, bro that's suspicious as hell.

They always get matching art with all the couples in Aidairo's twitter arts too.

That's not queerbaiting, they may not be explicit but by the lord they are not subtle at all, there is never a single "oh Mitsuba is like a brother to me" moment, they don't undo any of the gay implications we see, they double down on it.

Kou may be bi but it sure isn't the Nene route that Aidairo is playing.

3 - Aoikane

Akane has loved Aoi since he was a little kid. Waaaaaaay before he got a clock keeper contract.

He saw that Aoi cared so much about his opinion that she'd break out of her cold persona and burst into tears at the idea of being hated, and he locked in for life.

They are the codependent childhood friends troupe, the "I know you better than anyone" troupe, the "you are a part of my life I can't live without" troupe and they both love each other from the very start of the manga, not showing romantic interest in anyone else.

Nothing has made Akane change his mind about being with Aoi. Not being stabbed, not being rejected many times, not facing how bad aoi is at deling with her issues head on. He'll do anything for her time and time again.

in Akane's own words:

They had many build ups and a whole arc dedicated to their developments with each other (which is a lot considering they aren't main characters and Aoi usually get no focus in this manga.)

Narratively, it wouldn't make any sense to dedicate so many chapters pointing out how much they mean to each other and slowly working through their issues only to slap another ship at the end.

And is not like Aidairo said "They had their arc let's never talk about them again!", the author went out of her way to say "Even in a world where Aoi is in an arranged marriage, she still loves Akane"

They aren't subtle.

From the matching names, to the way they both crumble when they are separated from one another and keep thinking about marriage, they are very devoted. They have already explicitly confessed to the audience that they are in love with each other.

They'll either stay together forever or they'll die together.

#I wanted to put 'terukaneaoi' here but i gotta be realistic for once. Sorry teru i love you and i am down for being proven wrong on this #but i am 90% sure you'll end up alone #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #hananene #mitsukou #aoikane

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ckret2 · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 46 of human Bill Cipher frantically wishing he was still locked in the Mystery Shack and not getting his wish:

The Eclipse: Part 4

Gravity has fully disappeared from Gravity Falls and Bill finally learns why the Axolotl traveled all the way to Earth to see him. And meanwhile, Ford's in mortal peril.

[SUPER IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: if you're reading this, it means that I've edited chapters 6&7 to make them compatible with The Book Of Bill but I have not edited this chapter yet.

Before TBOB came out, in chapter 7 I wrote that the Ax's deal with Bill was "I'll give you a different form (a human body) in a different time (dropping you a thousand years in the future) so you don't have to see your old enemies" and then Bill stole a time tape to come right back to the 21st century. I've now edited ch 6&7 to make the Ax's deal with Bill "I'll drop you off in Theraprism" and then Bill escaped via reincarnation.

However, this chapter refers to the OLD version of ch 7. That's because there are not physically enough hours in my life for me to do all the editing I want to do as fast as I want to do it.

Things Bill & the Axolotl say in this chapter contradict TBOB and contradict what the new ch 6&7 say. The conversation they're having DOES NOT accurately reflect the fic's current plot. Don't freak out. I'll fix it when I can. - (note added Sept 7, 2024; will be removed when it's no longer necessary.)]

####

There were only two ways to remove a pair of magic friendship bracelets. Either both wearers had to consent to removing the bracelets; or one of the parties had to die. The bracelets weren't active if they were only being worn by one person, and a corpse wasn't a person.

The moment Dipper's soul left his body, the thread connecting the bracelets turned visible again.

Bill immediately yanked off his bracelet. He considered just letting it go, reconsidered considering that Dipper's ghost would probably tattle to Mabel, and carefully, slowly reeled the thread in. Without the magic active, it was just normal embroidery floss. The Axolotl's gravitational pull didn't make Dipper's body heavy enough to break the line, but if Bill jerked it just a little too hard, it would snap.

Bill heaved a sigh when the body was close enough he could grasp its wrist. He grabbed Dipper's head and snarled in his dead face, "This is why I told you to get in the cave." He wrapped the bracelet around and around the tree trunk and Dipper's forearm, muttering to himself, "But does anybody listen to the all-knowing immortal dream demon who's seventy times older than their entire universe? No! No, what could it possibly know! Surely we'll get better ideas from the brain-damaged hick who married a raccoon—"

An immense voice said, "Hello."

Bill froze. He slowly turned away from the beast above Gravity Falls.

The voice said serenely, "Look at me, you 8-karat coward."

He slowly turned toward the beast above Gravity Falls. He swallowed hard, steeled himself, and dragged his gaze up until he met the Axolotl's eye and he was gently tugged into the time and space between time and space. "Oh, heyyy," he squeaked. He forced a pained smile. "Didn't see you there! Haha, hi! Wow! Imagine running into you in this dimension on this planet, crazy."

"Yes, crazy," the Axolotl agreed.

"This isn't a regular part of your commute! I guess you've got some time off," Bill said. "Work must be going well!"

"Pretty well. I scheduled an extended lunch break," the Axolotl said amiably. "How's being human going?"

Bill shot the Axolotl a dirty look.

The Axolotl continued to give him a perpetual smile. "Happy New Year, by the way."

"I'll kill you."

"No you won't."

"Okay look, let's just cut to the chase," Bill said. "Go on. Tell me my punishment."

"Punishment?"

"For! Coming back here instead of staying when you dumped me in 3012. I skipped time while on parole. That's obviously why you're here." He looked down, shielding his face with a hand and squeezing his eyes shut. "So stop wasting my time and tell me how much trouble I'm in. I'm a busy guy, I don't wanna drag this out."

"Well," the Axolotl said, "it appears to me that you're locked in your enemies' home, you can't use doors, and you need to be handcuffed to a child to go outside. Is that enough 'trouble' for you?"

Bill opened one eye. "Wait, so." He looked up skeptically. "You're saying I won't get re-executed for breaking the rules. Or—or get stuck in a worse body."

"No," the Axolotl said. "You'll answer to no jailer's voice; what you do now is your own choice. I moved you by a thousand years to free you from your killers' fears. If you decide then to return, it's your own second chance you burn."

"Ohhh. See, I assumed this entire situation was a... prison... thing. Considering the..." He gestured vaguely at his body. "The flesh prison."

"It's a body. Not a prison. You aren't being imprisoned."

"'Not a prison' my base, if it's not a prison then why can't—" He caught himself before he asked a question, and took a deep breath. "So, there are no rules against coming right back to where I left off."

"Though I think your plan is clunky—not my circus, not my monkey."

"Oh. Okay, great." Bill planted his hands on his hips, straightening up properly for the first time since the Axolotl's arrival. "Huh. How 'bout that. Spent the last two days worrying for nothing!"

"You? Worried?"

"Of course not, I wasn't worried for a second," Bill said. "So if you're not here to punish me—that doesn't explain why you are here."

"Are you asking?"

"You know I'm not."

The Axolotl stared at Bill, patiently awaiting a question. Bill stared at the Axolotl, patiently not asking one.

The Axolotl caved first. "I wanted to make sure you hadn't burned down the dimension yet."

Bill pointed sharply at the Axolotl. "Hey! Hey!"

The Axolotl gave him a look like a toothless gumball learning how to smile.

"Not funny! Seriously, now!"

"I came because you called."

"Wh— When did—?" Bill cut himself off. He thought back to the day he'd spent locked in the bathroom. He recalled the desperate plea for salvation he'd painted on the ceiling. He buried his face in his hand. "That... that was a joke. False alarm."

"I gathered," the Axolotl said.

Bill peeked between his fingers. "But, I did call for rescue. Therefore. You're here to rescue me."

"No."

"Why n—! You said I'm not supposed to be in a prison! You've seen what these humans have done to me!"

"You aren't a prisoner," the Axolotl said. "You're a kidnapping victim. That's outside my jurisdiction."

Infuriating—but it told Bill something important: in the Axolotl's eyes, Bill's captivity wasn't just. And Bill didn't consider the Axolotl any kind of god—he didn't consider anyone any kind of god—but the Ax had a lot of pull in the multiverse when it came to defining the universal concept of justice. That was promising.

"But I do have a keen interest in your case. I wanted to check in on your progress."

Bill gave the Axolotl a questioning look. "'Progress.'"

The Axolotl said nothing. Bill waited. The Axolotl simply continued to smile. "You haven't asked a question yet. Usually you can't wait to get rid of me."

"Under the circumstances," he gestured again at his body, "I didn't think I could afford to waste it."

"I see. However, I do have a meeting I need to get to."

What was the most important thing he could ask. What did he need to know the most. "So... if I learn my lesson or complete my sentence or—whatever I'm supposed to do... will you turn me back into a triangle?"

"I can't and won't do anything else. I've completed my obligation to you," the Axolotl said. "Whatever happens to you from now on is up to you."

That could mean anything from "you're stuck as a human forever and will die in less than a century" to "there's a secret spell on you and when you meet its conditions you'll automatically turn back into a triangle" to "you're already a triangle, you just need to believe in yourself." All Bill knew was that he wasn't getting any help from the Ax.

"It's been a pleasure as always," the Axolotl said. The world slowly began to move again as he gently returned Bill to the dimension he'd come from.

"Wait!" Bill called. He needed to know—was he still a triangle, somewhere on the inside, buried beneath all this flesh and bone? Or had the Axolotl's transformation rotted him to his core—was he now nothing but a human through and through? If he wasn't being punished, why had his suffocating soul been smothered under a blanket of meat? If he wasn't being punished, why had his own corpse stared him in the eye as if it didn't recognize him? "Just one more question before you go!"

"If you have the time. Up to you."

If he had the time? Bill's eyes darted around. Why wouldn't he have the time, what was he missing—?

His gaze locked on Ford. Floating twenty, thirty feet out from the cliff's edge. Oh.

Bill let the Axolotl's gravity drag him to the edge of the cliff before digging a hand into the ground, holding himself in place. Bill was safe; Dipper's body was safe, and his soul could float home once the Axolotl was gone. But when the Axolotl was gone, gravity would immediately come back—0 to 100, just like that—and Ford was dead.

And the Axolotl was already turning away. The millions of axolotls in the water below followed, moving through and out of the lake as though the lakebed didn't exist, migrating in the Axolotl's wake.

Ford was unsuccessfully trying to swim through the air back to land. Several useless feet of cable from his infinity belt floating around him from trying to fling it at the cliff. The best he could do was stretch an arm toward land.

He met Bill's eyes. The only other time Bill had seen Ford this terrified was when he'd threatened to torture the kids.

Bill looked at Ford, looked at the Axolotl—nearly too far to shout to—and looked down. By now, the future death he'd witnessed earlier was so close that Bill could see more than the blood to be left on the rocks. He could see the body—gray hair, tan overcoat, broken. It was just a few moments away.

Stanford Pines was about to die. Bill Cipher was innocent. Dipper was his witness; Dipper, honest goody hero type, could verify that Bill not only repeatedly told them both to stay away from the thing in the sky, but also warned them to anchor themselves right before totality. Everyone at the shack knew he'd protested, knew he'd warned them, knew he'd begged to stay home. There was no possible way Bill could get blamed for this.

And once Ford was dead, none of the idiots in this town would ever find a way to destroy Bill.

Up to you.

Bill didn't stop to think.

He kicked off the edge of the cliff.

He could see, hovering in the air like a golden arc amidst a dozen blurry failures, the path he needed to jump to reach Ford. The Axolotl's tail was already soaring over the town, his sky blue fins rippling like vast, slow sails. If Bill reached Ford before the Axolotl's influence was completely gone, he could fly them over the lake and they might both survive.

They collided. Bill had to fling an arm over Ford's shoulder before he managed to get a grip on his lapel; Ford seized Bill's hoodie in both hands. Ford demanded, "What are you—?" He fell silent as their trajectory took a sudden sharp turn from south to east.

"The lake!"

Ford nodded. Why could come if they both survived. He could already feel weight grabbing onto his limbs. He spared a split-second glance down, but with half the lake floating in the air he couldn't tell if they'd cleared its banks yet. "Have you ever learned to swim?"

"You have to learn?!"

Ford prayed, if Bill drowned, that he was a mortal, and that he wasn't the kind of drowner who dragged other people down with him. "Cross your ankles as tightly as you can, cross your arms over your chest, land feet first in the water—better to break your legs than your neck—do not tilt your head, eyes on the horizon—" And that was as much emergency survival advice as he could give before gravity returned in full force.

This wasn't the first time Ford had plummeted into a deep liquid from an irresponsible height over the past thirty years. The hit was softer than he expected—the turbulent lake hadn't settled back down into its normal water pressure—but he also sank far deeper than he expected. Streams of bubbles raced past his vision; maybe it was just the power of suggestion, but he could have sworn they looked like transparent axolotls.

As soon as he had his wits about him, he threw off his coat, tugged off his boots, and kicked his way toward the surface.

Bill didn't.

This actually wasn't so bad, he thought, with a calmness that definitely came from being such a rational level-headed fellow and not from being in shock. Sure, all the air had been forced out of his lungs and his body was screaming in airless panic, but he wasn't his body, was he? This felt just like floating. He would miss floating again.

What was he supposed to do now.

He'd seen humans swim. He tried kicking his legs. He felt stupid. But, he decided—again, with a calmness that definitely was not from shock—that looking kinda stupid was probably preferable to drowning. Although he was curious what drowning felt like. Had he ever drowned a puppet before? He couldn't remember. Didn't seem bad so far.

He surfaced.

Ford was already on shore, on hands and knees, desperately coughing out water, his lungs burning. He collapsed in the sand. It took a couple minutes for him to reach the point where he was breathing more than he was coughing, and another minute of heavy breathing before he had the energy to look at the lake again. Bill was floating on his back about fifty feet away, very still.

Ford croaked, "Bill," coughed again, and tried a little louder. "Bill?"

Without otherwise moving, Bill raised one arm and gave him a thumbs-up.

Ford dug into what energy reserves he still had, shuffled back into the water, and swam over to Bill. "Are you all right?"

Bill gave him a dazed look, opened his mouth, and exhaled a cup of water. Then he started coughing.

Ford grimaced. "Let's... get to shore." He took Bill's arm to tug him toward dry land.

Bill flailed upright and shoved him off. "Don't—" Hack. "M'fine. I l—" Cough. "I like floating." He lay on his back, shut his eyes, and said shakily, "Don't touch me."

Ford treaded water for a moment, considering that. Bill looked like he'd got the hang of floating enough that he wasn't an immediate drown risk, so Ford said, "I'll... be on land."

"'Kay."

Ford swam to shore and sat cross-legged in the wet sand to wait, staring down at his hands. The Handwitch's ring was a bright indigo blue again, no traces of darkness within the cabochon, as though the lake water had washed it clean.

Should he go do something useful? There weren't many places Bill could go, except to shore; it wasn't like he was at risk of escaping. But then if Bill did make it to land while Ford was distracted, he had a chance to make a run for it without the bracelet—

Ford stood up. "Bill! Where's Dipper?!"

Bill raised one arm and pointed up.

Ford looked at Gravity Peak. A small speck high above, Dipper was looking down over the cliff's edge. Ford waved to him. Dipper waved back. Well. That was inconvenient. Maybe Ford could restrain Bill with the infinity belt's cable in the meantime. (He reeled the cable in while he was thinking about it. He was fortunate it hadn't tangled on anything while he was underwater.)

"We have to rendezvous with Dipper. Get over here."

"Just leave me."

"Not an option."

Bill let out a pitiable whine, but, after a moment, managed to figure out a way to slowly paddle-kick his way toward land.

When his heels hit sand, he rolled over, crawled onto land, and lay down. "Gravity," he groaned. "I hate gravity."

"I'm not too fond of it myself right now." Ford's limbs felt like lead. Some combination of spending a day and a half in steadily reduced gravity, the exhaustion following a near death experience, and waterlogged clothes. "Where are the enchanted bracelets?"

Bill lifted one hand from the elbow and pointed toward the cliff again.

That'd be just Ford's luck. All the same, he said, "Really?" Bill would hide them if they were on him.

"Yes, really. Whaddaya want, a strip search?" He gestured vaguely toward his body without lifting his head. "Go ahead. 'M not moving to help." His arm flopped back down.

Ford decided that was a bluff he did not want to call. "Fine. We'll put them back on when we rendezvous with Dipper." If Bill tried to escape, Ford wasn't sure he was in any condition to chase; but then Bill didn't seem to be in any condition to run, either.

"Surprised you wanna wear matching bracelets with me. If I'd known, I woulda made you a friendship bracelet." Under his breath, Bill muttered at the sand, "But m'sure it'd've been a waste of thread."

Ford decided it was more prudent to hold his tongue. "Can you walk?"

"If I have to." For as difficult as Bill made getting to his feet look, one would think he was being subjected to the gravity of Jupiter. Ford offered his hand; Bill smacked it aside.

"Well. My raft is still in the cave behind Trembley Falls, so we'll have to borrow a boat." Ford pointed toward Tate & Backle's Bait & Tackle at the far end of the lake. "Think you can make it that far?"

Bill—barefoot, soggy, and slumped like he had the whole weight of the world on his shoulders—gave Ford the most pathetic look he'd ever seen Bill wear. Ford empathized completely. But Bill only sighed and said, "Let's get going."

####

Tate lowered his magazine to give Ford a critical look. "Dr. Pines," he said. "You get caught out on the lake when the gravity came back?"

"Something like that."

He shook his head. "Shoulda listened to the news."

"The news?"

"Dad's been making public warnings since yesterday. 'Stay anchored and keep your head down.' Reckon you must've missed it."

"We've... been camping." He'd have to ask Fiddleford about that later. "Listen—do you have a boat we could borrow? It's an emergency. We were separated from Dipper and we have to get across the lake."

Tate raised his hat just enough to give Ford a look that told him exactly what he thought of his merit as a guardian—Ford figured he deserved that—but then stood with a sigh. "All right, I'll see what we've got."

He paused, then gestured behind Ford with his chin. "Who's the lady?"

Ford turned. The shop's door was propped open and Bill was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed tight, staring blankly out across the lake. "Er—Goldie. She's... staying in the shack a few weeks."

"Hm." Tate raised his voice. "Ma'am?"

Bill didn't budge.

"Ma'am—Miss Goldie?"

That time he turned to give Tate a faraway look. "Me?"

"Yes, uh—you're soaked to the bone. Would you like to borrow some dry clothes?"

"Oh." Bill considered the question for a little longer than necessary. "If you want."

Ford explained, "She inhaled a lot of water."

Tate nodded. "Think we've got some out-of-season stock in the back, there might be something big enough for..." He caught himself before insinuating something about a lady's weight, and mumbled, "Well, it'll do." He headed to a door behind the counter, paused, looked Ford over, and reluctantly said, "I s'pose you can get something too."

####

Tate had a motorboat in good working order, so he let them borrow it, with a stern request to have it back by the end of the day. And so they set out—Ford in waders that went up to his chest, a bandana he really hoped was keeping his embarrassing neck tattoo hidden, and a t-shirt that said "The worst day of fishing is better than the best day of court-ordered anger management classes"; and Bill in a makeshift skirt Tate had apologetically improvised out of a beach towel, a sweater depicting a pine tree constructed out of fish that said "MERRY FISHMAS", and a pair of novelty slippers shaped like rainbow trout.

"I'm never giving these shoes back," Bill informed Ford as they crossed the lake. "I don't care whether we buy them or steal them. They're hilarious." It was the nearest thing to personality Bill had demonstrated since landing in the lake.

Ford supposed he was in no position to tell Bill he couldn't keep them, considering that Bill had... well.

Well.

Ford should say something about that. He didn't know what. He didn't know where to start. (Bill's question came back to him: if Ford didn't believe anything Bill said, why did he keep trying to pry information out of him?)

(Because, he realized—beneath thirty years of every nerve in his body screaming "DON'T TRUST HIM"—part of him was still hoping Bill would say something he could believe.)

Ford cleared his throat. "It's... impressive that you didn't panic while you were underwater," he said awkwardly. "That must have taken remarkable self control."

"Oh. Eh." Bill spread his hands vaguely. "I wasn't really paying attention to what was happening. I was thinking about other stuff."

Ford blinked. "While you were drowning?"

"It wasn't a very severe drowning."

Ford huffed.

This was probably a conversation he should have later—Bill's brain only appeared to be half on—but, if they had it later, Ford wasn't sure he'd get anything but yet another polished lie.

And so he steeled his nerves and asked, "Why did you save me."

Bill didn't answer. He stared silently at his rainbow trout slippers.

"Bill—?"

"Hold on," he said. "I don't know, just—give me a minute to make something up."

It was the first time in a month and a half—the first time in years—that Ford was absolutely certain Bill had just told him the truth.

And not just about his intentions to lie to Ford—but about not knowing why he'd saved him.

It meant there was no secret master plan, no manipulative ulterior motives, no cunning illusions. It meant Bill had endangered himself just to save Ford.

There was a universe where Ford then said, "I didn't think you meant it all those times you said you wanted to be my friend again," and where Bill lied—both to Ford and to himself—"I didn't think I meant it either." It wasn't this universe, because neither one of them wanted those words out in the world. Yet they still hovered around them, unspoken.

It didn't make Ford trust Bill. It didn't make Ford like Bill. Bill was still everything he'd ever been—liar, conman, tyrant, torturer—and Ford still hated him for all of it.

But. It meant that for the first time in a month in a half, a muscle between Ford's shoulder blades that had been knotted tight with fear could finally loosen and relax.

Ford was safe.

####

(I first had the idea for this chapter nearly a year ago and I've been dying waiting to post it. I hope you enjoyed, and I can't wait to hear what y'all think! And to those of you in the path of totality, happy solar eclipse this Monday! I totally planned it this way. I did not.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #stanford pines #grunkle ford #the axolotl #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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sallowedbethyname · 6 months ago

Text

to be home, to be loved, ch.1

pairing: sebastian sallow x reader (hogwarts legacy)

rating: mature (eventual smut)

themes: found family, friends to lovers, slow burn

summary: Eleazar Fig and Solomon Sallow died. Anne Sallow had disappeared. You, Sebastian, and Ominis tried as best as you can to move on, learn, and heal from everything that had happened. In an effort to keep Sebastian company and gave Ominis a new refuge after your fifth year at Hogwarts ended, you proposed an idea: the three of you living together in the house Professor Fig left you.

notes: am i too late to write fics for the infamous, the illustrious, the genius sebastian sallow when hogwarts legacy came out almost 2 years ago? probably, but that never stopped me before, so here it is!

read the full chapter on AO3

read chapter 2

It had been over a week since Spring arrived, melting white snow to make way for verdant green and vibrant colors. Hogwarts was lovely this time of the year, with blooming flowers and swirling butterflies softening the solemness of the castle. It was almost hard to believe that just a few weeks ago, you had been fighting for your life against Ranrok, shaking the very foundation of the castle. Yet Hogwarts still stood tall and majestic. Unshakeable.

Everyone called you Hogwarts’ Hero, but you wondered if they knew that your sleep had been plagued with vivid dreams of bright flashes of red, the memories of the Keepers, and the light fading from your mentor’s eyes as he drew his last breath. Who would've expected that you'd have trauma by the end of your fifth year? Certainly not you.

The teachers, bless their hearts, seem to be paying more attention to you these days. Even more than before, when they used to give you tasks and extra lessons to make up for lost time. Among them, Professor Weasley was the one who often reached out to you to inquire about your O.W.L preparations.

Curiously, though, the deputy headmistress didn't seem interested in your O.W.L or Field Guide today. Instead, she regarded you with a gentle, sympathetic expression as she handed you a thick envelope.

“I know the grief of losing Professor Fig must be too fresh for you, but with the year ending and… in light of everything that has happened recently, I'm afraid this cannot wait.”

You stilled in your seat, immediately assuming the worst. Had the remaining goblin forces taken arms again? A new enemy entering the fray? Or perhaps you weren't meticulous enough when locking away Isidora’s repository and some of the magic had leaked away?

Professor Weasley cleared her throat. “This is Professor Fig’s will. He'd entrusted this to me the night you fought Ranrok. I assume you knew that Professor Fig and Miriam had no children?”

“Yes,” you slowly replied, thinking back to the months before Hogwarts where Fig patiently taught you everything you need to know about magic.

What Professor Weasley said next made your eyes widen in surprise.

“Well… Professor Fig had decided to list you as his beneficiary. This means all his possessions now belong to you, including his house in London.”

“I— what?”

“It’s all stated in his will,” Professor Weasley nodded at the envelope before you, urging you to open it.

You hesitated. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion and disbelief. You wondered if this is a setup. Perhaps Professor Weasley decided to give you a surprise test before O.W.L to really gauge your readiness? But what purpose would it serve? The deputy headmistress has no reason to trick you and even if she did, she wouldn’t resort to using Fig, wouldn’t she? It would be too cruel.

Still, the deputy headmistress was silent while you mentally hyper-analyzed your current predicament. Nervously, you reached out for the envelope, pulling out its contents with trembling hands. Complicated words jumped out at you when you unfurled the parchment. You weren’t really well-versed in legal phrases and languages, but as you read through the pages and saw the stamps and signatures that belonged to Fig, you realized that everything Professor Weasly said was true.

Professor Fig left you everything.

“I… This is…”

You could feel your eyes getting wet with tears but blinked them all away, refusing to let out even the smallest sob or sniffle. Not in front of Professor Weasley, at least. Professor Fig never really expressed any sort of familial affection to you. Any praise and encouragement mostly only came because of your aptitude for magic and quick thinking. Because of that, you assumed he only saw you as his student. You two hadn’t known each other that long, after all.

You flipped the pages and began to reread everything from the beginning and, to nobody’s surprise, nothing’s changed. The content of his will stayed the same.

But why, you found yourself thinking. A big wave of grief swept over you. A part of yourself secretly wishing Fig could’ve told you all this on his own. After all, despite everything, he had been the closest thing to a father that you’ve ever had.

Not for the first time, your chest swelled with rage towards Ranrok, though you know it was futile.

“I had the pleasure to talk with Fig not long after he discovered you,” Professor Weasley finally spoke with a gentle voice. “He told me how gifted you are, how he had never seen someone learn magic so quickly. He was very proud of you, dear. And I’m sure that sentiment only grew bigger until the very end of his journey.”

“I… I don't know what to say, Professor, I…” you stammered.

With a flick of her wand, a cup of warm tea appeared on the desk and Professor Weasley offered it to you. “Fig also told me that you were living in an orphanage. I suppose he hoped that, though he’s no longer with us, you can now have a home to return to aside from Hogwarts.”

You sobbed, unable to hold back the tears. Without wasting a beat, Professor Weasley was already at your side, rubbing soothing circles on your back. The warm gesture was appreciated, of course, but you tried your best to stop crying.

“Your mentor is a good man,” she said. “He had made sure that you’ll never live in want.”

“Truthfully, Professor, I don’t know if I deserved this. I…” you paused, rubbing your eyes with the sleeve of your cloak.

“Nonsense, you’ve done so much for the wizarding world. I know Fig, he wouldn’t have made this decision if he wasn’t sure,” Professor Weasley reassured her. “But… it's up to you, in the end, whatever you want to do with Professor Fig’s possessions. I advise you to sleep on it tonight before coming up with a decision.”

Your nose flared as you took a deep breath, blinking away the burn in your eyes. “Alright,” you said, suddenly feeling more exhausted than ever. “I'll give it a thought. Thank you, Professor.”

The deputy headmistress nodded. “Well, I shan't keep you any longer. You still have classes to attend, after all. But rest assured, I'll always offer you my assistance should you need it.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

Try as you might, you couldn't stop thinking about Fig’s will. You barely paid attention to whatever Professor Sharp was saying (you were pretty sure he was giving you disappointed looks the whole time) and, when class was finally over, you began walking aimlessly around Hogwarts, hoping the excursion could help you process everything that had just happened.

Of course, you had been giving some thought as to how you were going to spend the term break before your sixth year began. Natty and Poppy had also invited you for a sleepover at their houses. But, ultimately, you thought you were going to spend most of your time back at the orphanage, though you absolutely did not look forward to it.

But now, things have changed drastically.

You weren't trying to be ungrateful or petulant but… how many fifteen-year-olds out there got entrusted a house and a certain amount of wealth all of a sudden?

The details of Fig’s home trickled back into your brain as you recalled the few times you had been there. It was a simple two-story house with brick walls, cobblestone roofs, a garden filled with peculiar magical plants, and a chipper house-elf named Hobbs. The insides of the house were filled with books and knick-knacks from Fig and Miriam’s adventure. It was warm there. And quiet, detached from the hustle and bustle of London’s city center.

‘Wouldn't it be so empty if only Hobbs and I lived there? How can I even stay there when Professor Fig is already gone?’ you wondered, uncertain.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't realize that one of the armors in the corridor had already broken down into pieces, its parts strewn messily across the floor, no doubt it was because of their usual fight. But this detail slipped your mind and, the next moment, you found yourself falling down to your knees after you tripped over what seemed to be an iron breastplate.

“Ow!”

“...Is that the Hogwarts' Hero I hear stumbling down the corridor?”

Cheeks reddening, you looked up to see none other than Ominis Gaunt standing in the middle of the corridor with his wand stretched forward, glowing red.

“Yup, it's me. And don't call me that,” you sighed before pushing yourself back up and casting Reparo to fix the armor. “Fancy seeing you all by yourself, Ominis, Sebastian's not with you?”

“He’s being held back by Professor Garlick.”

“What, did he make a student faint with a mandrake?” you asked as you inspected the repaired armor, satisfied with your work.

“Almost lost an arm from accidentally dropping his Chinese chomping cabbage.”

You winced. “That… didn't sound good.”

That did not quite sound like Sebastian as well. You may not have known him long enough, yet Sebastian was not exactly someone you'd call clumsy. No, he had always moved with certainty and confidence, with intentions behind each of his actions. Needless to say, he wouldn't have done something as foolish as accidentally dropping a magical cabbage that could tear one's limbs.

You turned to look at Ominis, half-surprised that he was still there.

“How is he doing?”

“He’s… managing, though I can sense that Anne's situation still bothers him greatly,” Ominis quietly answered, carefully picking his words. “But I believe that he has come to terms with it. Slowly making peace with everything.”

“That's good to hear,” you nodded.

Of course, like Ominis, you had been witnessing Sebastian making good progress. He seemed to be fully committed to the promise he made to you in The Undercroft a few days ago, and for that, you couldn't have been more relieved.

“Speaking of Sebastian, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about,” the blond-haired boy spoke again and it piqued your interest.

“Mm?”

“Not here, let’s go somewhere quieter.”

“...Alright, lead the way.”

You assumed he would lead you to The Undercroft, yet it seemed Ominis had a different plan in mind because the two of you had just made a turn that certainly did not lead to your secret base.

“Where are we heading?”

“The Black Lake,” he answered and your eyebrows shot up. “I’m unsure if this is something Sebastian should hear. Not yet, at least.”

You tilted your head to the side. This was certainly unexpected. After all, a good portion of your fifth year was spent doing unsanctioned and dangerous things with Sebastian, away from Ominis’ disapproving gaze. Now it was you and Ominis who were scheming together while keeping Sebastian out of the loop.

“This… was certainly a surprising turn of events.”

“You’re the only one I can turn to. And as to why, I'm sure you don't need a reminder.”

That shut you up. “Fair enough.”

It didn't take long before you reached the Black Lake. You held back a shiver when a chilly spring wind blew, mussing up the strands of hair that escaped your braid. Still, the sight of a verdant meadow after four months of pure white was very much welcomed. When you squinted, you could see the silhouette of the giant squid that lingered in the murky depth of the lake.

Ominis led you to a quieter, more secluded part of the lake and you followed, sitting next to him on the grass.

“So, what is it?”

“I know I said that Sebastian seemed to be doing alright, but… with the term break approaching, I can't help but worry for him. Anne is keeping her distance, Solomon's gone. Sebastian will be all alone.”

“Ah… that,” you hummed. “I've been wondering about that, too, actually. Of course, I don't know Sebastian as well as you do, but I wondered if he'd be okay going back to an empty home. I figured the grief would be too much.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I will just say it as it is. Aside from the grief, I worry he would try to do something stupid. Something we've agreed we'd help him put a stop to.”

An uncomfortable sensation pricked your skin, trailing down your spine. The faintest echo of Crucio that Sebastian cast on you back at Salazar’s Scriptorium. It was consensual, yes, you had asked for him to do it, but the pain was unbearable. It was as if you were being burned from the inside. As if a thousand knives pierced your skin over and over again. Your throat constricting on its own and breathing had been impossible.

Still, some days you wondered what was worse, the consensual Unforgivable curse or the anger he lashed out at you whenever he got too frustrated about his quest to find a cure for Anne.

‘Water under the bridge,’ you thought to yourself.

“I suppose you couldn't take him with you?”

“With me,” Ominis repeated slowly. “You’re suggesting that we bring Sebastian to a house where children are not taught but also encouraged to use the Unforgivable curses.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Curses aside, you know how I preferred not to stay in that house. I used to visit Feldcroft in the past, but now…”

There was an awkward silence for a moment as you realized it wasn’t just Sebastian who lost his family and home. Ominis also lost a shelter. You looked up towards the blue sky, wishing you could find someplace for your two friends. Perhaps the three of you could sneak and hide in the Room of Requirements for the entire term break. That wouldn’t be too much of a bad idea, would it? Wild, but… plausible? You certainly wouldn’t have any problems with it.

Absent-mindedly, you put your hand inside the pocket of your cloak. It was at that moment your fingers brushed against an envelope.

Professor Fig’s will.

Suddenly, another idea popped into your head.

“Something happened to me earlier.”

“Yes…?” Ominis arched an eyebrow, unsure of what it had to do with your current predicament.

“Professor Weasley gave me Professor Fig’s will. He had listed me as his beneficiary… which means all of his possessions, including his home, are entrusted to me. I’ve been to the house a few times before and… it was quite spacious. There were spare rooms available.”

Ominis immediately turned to face you. “Are you suggesting that Sebastian could live with you during our term break?”

“I— well…”

Now that you had said it, you realized how ridiculous you may have sounded.

“I know that you tend to come up with bizarre ideas, but would your family even be okay with this? Can’t imagine they’d be pleased if you suddenly came home with a boy.”

‘They probably wouldn’t… if they existed,’ you thought to yourself.

“Um… I sort of don't have one…”

“What do you mean you don't— oh,” Ominis immediately fell silent when he understood what you implied. The blond shifted awkwardly. “I must admit I have heard some rumors regarding your… family, but I didn’t dare to ask I…” he faltered. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t apologize. Really!”

An awkward silence stretched for a brief moment before he finally let out a sigh. “Well, that’s even more bizarre, then. A girl and a boy living together. Did it ever cross your mind that your idea is rather unconventional, if not, inappropriate?”

You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. Ominis did not have to make it seem more serious than it really was. The three of you were just friends and nothing more. You highly doubt that Sebastian would do anything weird. Besides, it’s not like any of you had a lot of options.

“I know… it was just—” you took a deep breath. “Look, I just thought we could all stay there. Yes, you included. There's enough room for everyone to have their own privacy and there’s also a house-elf, so it’s not like it’s going to be just us.”

Ominis still looked like he suddenly got his vision and saw that you actually have three heads instead of one.

“I don’t know what to say, thank you for the invitation? But have you considered the fact that there’s a possibility that something unwanted could happen?”

“Sebastian wouldn’t do that! And neither would you!” you replied with wide eyes, perplexed. “And even if any of you somehow did, which I highly doubt, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself.”

You were quite certain that Ominis didn't doubt you. After all, you did have the ability to wield ancient magical power and have successfully thwarted a goblin rebellion.

“Besides,” you took a deep breath. “I really don't know if I'm going to be able to live there with only a house-elf to keep me company.”

He paused. “Why is that?”

A rueful smile bloomed on your lips. “The silence would be too much for me to bear.”

“Ah…”

“A- anyway, you don't have to agree to my idea if you're uncomfortable about it. I was just thinking out loud… we need a place where one or the two of us can keep Sebastian company and you need a place to escape your family. I thought the house could be a good option.”

Ominis finally let out another defeated sigh. “You’re not wrong.”

Biting your lower lip, you inched forward, not wanting to put more stress on him. “I suppose there is a possibility that Sebastian would be completely fine living in Feldcroft alone and things would be the same despite… what had happened. At any rate, we wouldn't know unless we talked to him about it, no?”

“Yes, I suppose you're right,” he muttered. “We should talk to him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

The Slytherin boy arched an eyebrow. “We're going to Feldcroft with him tomorrow, remember?”

Right. You remembered Sebastian asking you to go with him and Ominis to his cottage in Feldcroft. This would be his second visit after Solomon’s death and Anne’s disappearance. The first happened just moments after he learned of his sister’s disappearance. Suddenly, your chest felt heavy.

“Alright. We'll talk to him tomorrow.”

Ominis nodded. “I have to go back, Sebastian is probably searching for me already. Talk to you soon.”

“Me, too. I promised Natty we’re going to Hogsmeade together. See you, Ominis.”

He stood up and dusted his robe. His expression was unreadable.

“Despite everything that had happened,” he spoke again in a soft voice. “I’m grateful for all the help that you’ve done for Sebastian. I reckon it must’ve been hard for you, too, back then. I’m sorry, I realized there were times when I was being too harsh on you.”

The heaviness in your chest grew and though Ominis couldn’t see you, you still hid your face from him. A small part of you worried he could somehow sense the relief you were trying to suppress. Still, a treacherous part of you continued to wonder if Sebastian would still do what he did if you had made different choices. Had you, despite your best intention, unknowingly and foolishly led him into darkness?

You took a deep breath.

“Thank you, Ominis.”

That night, you dreamt about Isidora’s final repository, tucked deep beneath Hogwarts. Yet instead of locking it away, you absorbed it. Unknown, unlimited power coursing through your veins, taking you to a greater height.

You dreamt that you found Anne and, with that treacherous power, you broke her curse.

Feldcroft was as humble and quiet as the first time you visited it. The evening sun bathed the little hamlet in a warm, golden hue, enhancing the colors of the daffodils that grew all over the grassy field. It seemed to be more alive, with villagers loitering around merchants and children running across the meadows. With the goblin forces gone, peace had returned to the hamlet.

Beside you, Sebastian was staring at the idyllic sight with a hollowness in his eyes. The price of freedom surely had never been so steep. Feldcroft was safe, but Solomon was gone, Anne did not want to speak to him, and some villagers were eyeing him warily. There were rumors that the young Sallow boy had cast one of the Unforgivable curses during the last goblin attack. Opinions were divided, some thinking he should be thoroughly investigated, while others thought “Well, good riddance! He saved his sister!”

“Sebastian…”

“Come on,” the brown-haired boy said. “All this walk is making me tired.”

You glanced at Ominis, who seemed to be holding back as many emotions and thoughts as you did. Sighing, you followed Sebastian as he made his way home.

The Sallow cottage was in a slightly worse state, which wasn’t unreasonable, considering nobody lived there anymore. Sebastian hadn’t said anything about his desire to return, but the three of you came to the house anyway to keep it clean and well-maintained.

Solomon Sallow was laid to rest in a simple graveyard in the back of the cottage. Anne had told everyone in the village that he died peacefully in his sleep. Silence stretched as Sebastian stood before the grave, while you and Ominis stood a few feet behind him, watching. The brown-haired boy was still as a statue and you wondered what went through his mind.

But then he sighed and turned to face you, his face calm and eyes clear without a hint of tears.

“I'm done here. Let's get inside.”

With a flick of his wand, the door to the cottage opened easily. Inside, it was as if time was frozen. There was a glass on the table where Anne used to sit, the bed was unmade, an opened letter sitting on top of a nearby fireplace, and the windows were starting to collect dust.

“Well… let’s get to it, then. Nothing a few Scourgify can’t solve,” Sebastian said, trying to maintain a carefree attitude.

The three of you worked in silence, repeating the spell to clean any dust and dirt you laid your eyes on. You turned your attention towards the bookshelf by the window, noticing more opened letters were scattered on the shelves and the floor around it. You averted your gaze, not wanting to take a single peek at the content. One of them caught your eye anyway because it had your name written on it in handwriting you had grown familiar with.

Unable to resist the urge, you carefully picked it up from the floor. As you suspected, it was Sebastian’s letter to Anne, and he was talking about you.

Dear Anne,

Do you remember the new fifth-year I brought with me during my last visit? I forgot to tell you this, but she’s very strong. She’s capable of magic beyond our comprehension and she agreed to help us find a cure. I couldn’t be more grateful that I met her.

Wait for us, Anne. We will cure you, no matter what.

Sebastian

“You know, reading someone else’s letter is considered a breach of privacy,” Sebastian’s voice almost made you jump. You turned to find him already standing next to you, eyes fixated on the letter in your hand.

“I’m sorry. It had my name on it, I got curious,” you shook your head before tucking the letter back into the first empty envelope you could find and stuck it between the books.

“It’s fine. There wasn’t anything scandalous there anyway, thankfully. It was just me singing your praises,” he replied, a faint hint of playfulness lacing his tone.

You bit your lower lip as you looked up at him, uncertain. You never did manage to use your power on Anne. It wasn’t like you knew how to reverse or break a curse — the Keepers didn’t give you much knowledge beyond how crucial it was to use your power responsibly — but you wished you could’ve at least tried.

“I’ve been thinking about reaching out to the Keepers again, now that they’re all present in The Map Chamber,” you finally confessed, picking your words carefully. “These past few weeks I… I’ve been trying to practice the ancient magic on my own, but it proved to be a bit difficult without a mentor. I just…”

You sighed.

“I still wanted to try, if you’re alright with it. To cure Anne, I mean. We… I… didn’t manage to try it before.”

Sebastian's eyes widened as he stared at you in surprise. “If I’m al— of course, it is alright with me! Goodness, after everything I’ve done you still—” he stopped himself, taking a steadying breath before continuing. “Thank you. I… you don’t know how much this means to me.”

A soft smile curved on your lips. “I’ll start working hard, Sebastian. Of course, I have to remind you that there is no guarantee that it will work. Isidora tried to remove pain and ended up creating a destructive force that she could not control. But I promise I will try. Figure something out. Find a middle ground that Isidora couldn’t.”

“And that is enough for me. Really,” he says, half-laughing, averting his gaze because he just couldn’t look you in the eye. The gratefulness he felt was just too great and raw he feared that you could spot it with just a glance. “Though, I suppose… we can only do that if we know where Anne is, can’t we?”

Your smile faded ever so slightly. “Yes, you’re right…” you trailed off before shaking your head and giving him a bright grin. “I believe she’ll come around. You didn’t lose hope back then, so let’s not lose it now.”

The weight of the unspoken fact laid heavy between the two of you: there was a solid chance that Anne wouldn’t return. Yet you chose to gloss over it for Sebastian’s sake. You also would like to believe that the bond between the twins was stronger than any adversities thrown at them, including their current predicament.

It seemed that Sebastian thought of the same thing because he smiled at you and nodded.

“I won’t.”

It took around three hours to clean the Sallow cottage until it was spick and span. By that time, the sun had set and the three of you decided to make use of the dining room to eat some desserts you had stolen earlier from Hogwarts’ kitchen.

“I find it a sacrilege that you knew how to get into the kitchen and not tell us,” Sebastian said with a mouth full of bread.

“Sebastian, for the sake of decorum, please swallow your food before you speak,” Ominis lamented, his face contorting in disgust.

“With all due respect, you cannot see me, Ominis.”

“But I can hear you, Sebastian, I'm not deaf.”

You found yourself smiling at their bickering. At moments like these, it was so easy to slip back into your normal routine, so easy to believe that everything was alright. No dark arts. No curses. No forbidden artifacts.

“I have to agree with Ominis on this one, Sebastian, it's gross.”

“See? She has spoken. Listen to her.”

The brown-haired boy rolled his eyes. Still, he finally swallowed his bread and you were grateful for that.

“You're saying that as if I never listened to you.”

Ominis let out a sigh that sounded as if he was a 500-year-old vampire who had grown extremely tired and weary of life.

“Cases where you listened to me are, unfortunately, rare.”

“Alright, alright. We can go to the kitchen tomorrow, I'll show you the way,” you interjected, worried that the discussion would lead to sore topics. “The house-elves were very friendly, I'm sure we won't have any trouble getting there.”

Sebastian grinned. “I know I can always count on you.”

Perhaps it was the playful glint in his eyes or the carefree smile on his lips, but his words made you smile. You tried to mask it by eating another mouthful of your cream puff.

“Though I have to say, bit of a shame I knew about Hogwarts' kitchen so late… but there's always next year, I suppose,” he spoke again.

You glanced at Ominis, and, as if sensing your gaze, the blond boy spoke.

“Speaking of Hogwarts, are you planning to stay here for this term break?”

There was a short silence. Sebastian leaned back on his chair and stared at the ceiling.

“I dunno,” he answered. “I suppose I could… but without Anne this house just felt…”

A pause. He shook his head.

“Well, if you're planning to stay here for the entire break like you used to, I guess it wouldn't be so bad,” he finished, nudging Ominis with his knee.

“I can't. Not for the entire period. The last time I did that, my lovely mother and father had been even more unbearable than they used to be,” Ominis said in disdain. “I must spend a few days or weeks at home, unfortunately, to prevent them from going rabid.”

“Darn it. I'm so sorry, that sounds horrible, Ominis,” Sebastian sighed.

“I agree, some people just… shouldn't be allowed to become parents,” you muttered.

“It was nothing I couldn't handle, as unfortunate as it sounds. But if it does get worse, I won't hesitate to make my escape. You’ll probably find me on your doorstep, Sebastian.”

The brown-haired boy let out a hum. “Escape, huh? These days I've been thinking about that, too. Going somewhere far away from Feldcroft, leaving this place for good…” he said with a faraway look in his eyes, imagining his perfect paradise. “But I couldn't abandon this place when I still don't know where Anne is. Feldcroft is… Feldcroft is the last thread that connected me to my sister.”

“Are you going to stay, then?” Ominis quietly asked.

“I dunno. Frankly, I don't like being here without Anne,” he replied before locking eyes with you. He smiled. “What about you, ace? I reckon you'd go somewhere fun after your heroic deeds this year?”

Your heart leaped ever so slightly at the nickname. ‘Ace’, Sebastian often called you, because you always bested him in a duel, because of your terrifying and extraordinary skills. He used it teasingly at first. A way of getting under your skin or initiating a friendly banter. Now, there was a softness to it.

Though, you probably only imagined it.

“Oh, she's definitely going somewhere alright. Somewhere better than ours,” Ominis muttered.

“Somewhere better? What do you mean?”

“It's a bit of a long story. To keep things brief, Professor Fig made me the beneficiary of his will, meaning, all his possessions are now mine,” you explained. “I now have my own house.”

Sebastian's eyebrows shoot up to his forehead, brown eyes widening in surprise. “Beneficiary?” he repeated, utterly bewildered. “Woah, who would've thought? But I suppose it's not too outlandish, you were quite close with him and you saved Hogwarts. Well deserved!”

“It's a bit strange though, isn't it? I thought he would've picked a relative.”

“Maybe he doesn't have one and that's why he chose you. Could be anything, really,” he shrugged. His gaze momentarily shifts from you to Ominis. “Hold on, I didn't expect you'd tell Ominis before me. You wound me, ace.”

“This isn't a competition, Sebastian,” Ominis replied coolly, though you could sense a bit of amusement seeping into his tone.

“You were still caught up in Herbology class yesterday,” you explained with a shake of your head. “Didn't realize you're quite possessive.”

“I mean, I saw you first,” he said with a low chuckle, the simple action successfully made your treacherous heart race. “And I was the one who dragged you into this circle, so… without me, you wouldn't have been friends with Ominis.”

You let out a laugh and you could hear the other Slytherin boy let out a bored sigh. “It doesn't work like that.”

“Ominis is right. Besides, I remember you made him mad at me for a few days because you told me about The Undercroft. So, the way I see it, you sort of ruined Ominis’ first impression of me.”

“It was a betrayal of our pact,” Ominis nodded dramatically.

“The end justifies the means!” Sebastian retorted, raising both of his hands, a cheeky grin curving on his lips. “Anyway, Fig’s will. What are you planning to do with them?”

Holding his gaze, you sat up straighter, somehow feeling nervous about what you were about to say.

“This is just a thought. A random idea that came into my mind,” you started, greatly intimidated by the innocent way he tilted his head. “Fig’s house is rather spacious and… I don’t know if I could live there alone. Well, I suppose I won’t be alone, there’s a house-elf there, too. But I figure it would still be very, very quiet, with Fig already gone and all… I don’t know, the quiet just… unnerves me lately. So I thought… I’d like to invite the two of you to stay there, with me.”

“You’re asking us what?” Sebastian blurted.

Had this been another one of your mindless, silly discussions, you would’ve laughed at his dumbfounded expression. But unfortunately, it wasn’t.

“But we’re…” he took a panicked look at Ominis. “We’re boys!”

You let out a groan. “You’re saying that as if we hadn’t explored Salazar’s Scriptorium and spent who knows how long exploring goblin camps together!”

“That’s different!” he spluttered, absolutely flabbergasted. “This is… this is living together! Do you not have other friends?”

“I do, but they all have a loving and functional family, so I can’t exactly ask them!”

“I—” he was ready to retort, but you knew he knew there was no arguing that fact. Still, he shook his head. “And what about your family, huh?”

This time, Ominis spoke. “She’s an orphan.”

“She’s a— hang on. Again, how could you know this but I don’t?!”

“You never asked!” you quickly replied, almost impatiently. “But that’s beside the point. You asked me what I wanted to do with the house, well, that’s my idea, but it doesn’t mean I’m forcing any of you to do it. It’s just… a wild, random thought.”

Sebastian was still staring at you as if you had just encouraged everyone to learn Avada Kedavra and insisted that it was actually an ethical spell.

“I mean, I think you'd benefit from being a bit more cautious and careful,” he carefully said.

“Sebastian, I have the ability to turn you into a chicken. No offense, you're a great duelist, but I don't think you can harm me even if you wanted to. And I trust you wouldn't.”

“Of course I wouldn't!”

An awkward silence fell. You couldn't help but glare at Ominis for being awfully silent and unhelpful, before realizing he couldn't see you. Mentally cursing yourself, you began to speak.

“Anyway, it was just an idea,” you waved your hand flippantly, now eager to return to Hogwarts.

Yet Sebastian seemed to have a different opinion. “But you said you couldn't stand the silence and you're still grieving over Fig's passing.”

Your eyes met his and, for a moment, you feared he could look into your soul. He couldn't have possibly found a spell that gave him Dementor’s ability, could he?

“Yes,” you admitted anyway.

You and silence never really went hand in hand. The orphanage had been noisy most of the time. Bustling with a cacophony of children's screams, cries, and chatters. Silence used to be a respite you had often chased yet eluded you.

But things had changed. When the noises receded and the room grew quiet, your mind became unbearably loud. There were so many sounds and thoughts echoing in the back of your head. The sound of Avada Kedavra cutting through the air, the deafening crack as the stone ceiling collapsed above you, burying Fig’s body under its colossal size, the roaring of a dragon. Each night a different memory.

Before you, Sebastian shifted on his seat, his eyes carefully searching yours. “Well, it can't be helped, can it, ace? We'll go with you. Though, Ominis would probably tap out every once in a while because he has such a pleasant family.”

“I'll try to make my family visit as brief as possible,” Ominis murmured. “Anywhere is better than home.”

You stilled, not at all expecting them to agree. A part of yourself wanted to laugh at the turn of events. You and Ominis should've been the one giving support to Sebastian, yet the tables turned and now you were the one being cared for. Perhaps Ominis had orchestrated the flow of the conversation to keep Sebastian in the dark. You found yourself not minding it, though.

For now, you let yourself revel in the rare feeling of your friends coming to your rescue.

“Alright. It's a deal. No going back on your promises.”

“Of course,” Ominis replied, his voice soft, a gentle smile curving on his lips.

Sebastian locked eyes with you again and he grinned. “Wouldn't even dream about it.”

Time went by in a terrifying sleep. Somehow, you finished your O.W.L exams and your last day at Hogwarts had arrived. The Gryffindor table erupted in a loud, booming cheer when Phineas Nigellus Black, without masking his disdain, announced that they had won the house cup. You couldn't help but revel in your fellow housemates’ euphoria.

“Imelda Reyes was talking about how Slytherin would win the house cup,” Nellie Oggspire said conspiratorially. “I told her if Gryffindor didn't win, then the system is rigged and Hogwarts’ integrity should be questioned! You have saved this school and the wizarding world! I say that should warrant a permanent house cup victory for Gryffindor until the next seven years!”

It was a wild idea, but you found yourself not minding it. Besides, you agreed with Nellie.

“What's important is that we won,” Natty said, a satisfied smile blooming on her lips as she sat straighter than usual. She started picking up pastries from the table and placed them on your plate. “Now, I believe our hero should have her own feast!”

“Hear, hear!” Garreth whistled.

You let out a hearty laugh, happy at the absurd amount of pastries and desserts filling your plate. However, when your eyes caught the empty seat where Fig usually sat, an emptiness crept its way into your heart. Grief had been woken up from its slumber. You tore your gaze away and, somehow, it landed on the Slytherin table. Meeting with Sebastian's. He gave you a knowing smile and raised his glass. A silent acknowledgment, which you returned.

Still, the emptiness clung to your figure as you dragged your feet back to your room, where your neatly packed trunks had been waiting. For a moment, you stood there, casting your gaze around the room, determined to memorize every detail even though you would return in a few months.

“Hey, don't look too sad.”

You turned around to find Natty leaning against the doorframe, a sympathetic smile curling on her lips.

“We'll all see each other again in a few months.”

A sigh. You let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I’m being sappy, aren’t I?”

Natty’s dark eyes crinkled in delight. “You’re not, this school tends to have that effect on people. And don't worry. I'll make sure to write you lots of letters. That way, you won't feel too lonely.”

The smile on your lips grew.

“Thank you, Natty.”

The journey to Hogsmeade train station was loud, as the students' chatter filled the air like the humming of a thousand bees. You managed to claim an empty thestral carriage for Garreth, Natty, Poppy, and yourself. As other students began to fill the remaining carriages, you spotted Sebastian and Ominis in the crowd. Quickly, you raised your hands, calling out to them.

Soon enough, your carriage was filled with familiar faces. The faces of your first friends in Hogwarts. Some roped you into trouble, some helped you achieve the unimaginable. All of them you cherished.

“Huh, I think this is my first time seeing you joining the train ride to London, Sallow,” Garreth was the first to speak, eyeing the brown-haired boy curiously.

Sebastian's eyes locked with yours for a fleeting second before he cleared his throat. “I'm moving somewhere closer to London this year.”

Garreth hummed in acknowledgment. Silence blanketed the carriage for a moment, only broken by the huffing of the thestral and the sound of the wheel grounding against wet soil.

“I'm sorry about your uncle,” Poppy finally spoke with a gentleness akin to the caution one might show when approaching a wounded puppy. “First Anne and now your uncle… you've been through a lot.”

This time, Sebastian avoided your eyes, but you could somewhat feel the tension in his body. Feldcroft was not at all far from Hogwarts and words traveled far. Condolences had been given, as everyone, just like the villagers in that little hamlet, believed that Solomon Sallow died of natural causes. The gruesome truth was only known by you, Sebastian, Ominis, and Anne, and all of you guarded it close to your chests.

“Thank you, Poppy, I appreciate it,” Sebastian replied with a hollow smile that did not quite reach his eyes, an expression that could be easily mistaken as grief.

“How's Anne? Is she coming with you to London?” Natty asked.

You opened your mouth, wanting to interject, worried that the innocent question would only rub more salt into Sebastian's wound. But to your surprise, the boy was smiling earnestly. His eyes reflected just the right amount of sadness. Enough to make everything believable.

“Anne is in France with one of our great aunts. She moved there after Uncle Solomon passed away. It was a tough decision, but… we agreed it was for the best.”

“I see…” Natty replied, completely none the wiser. “Well, I wish only the best for you, Sebastian. I know how much you care for your sister. I hope that one day, you'll be able to find a cure for her.”

This time, Sebastian faltered. From his side, Ominis inched forward, opening his mouth, no doubt eager to change the topic, worried about how it would affect Sebastian.

Yet before he could say a word, Garreth spoke.

“I believe you will find that cure, Sallow,” he said plainly, simply, as if stating that anyone with a brain can brew an Edurus potion. “What? This world is a big place and magic is a boundless thing. I'm pretty sure it's out there somewhere. If not now, perhaps sometime in the future.”

“I think this is my first time hearing you saying something so wise, Garreth,” Natty said in amazement. “I did not know you had it in you.”

“Rude!” Garreth retorted, feigning a hurt expression. “I'll have you know that this brain of mine contains a multitude of new potion recipes ready to be tested! You think I am incapable of weaving pretty words?”

“It's a bit hard to imagine that when you regularly blow up your cauldron, to be honest,” Poppy said, grimacing.

“And stealing from Professor Sharp's ingredients vault,” Ominis spoke for the first time, half-amused, half-relieved to fuel a new topic that did not concern Sebastian, Solomon, or Anne.

Garreth protested, yet his voice was drowned by Natty and Poppy’s laughter. As your friends recounted more of his shenanigans, you locked eyes with Sebastian once again. His expression was soft, akin to relief. You tilted your head to one side, pink lips curling into a lopsided smile, which widened when he mirrored your actions.

No words were spoken, but you knew he found comfort in Garreth's words, and for that, you couldn't have been more relieved.

It was almost sunset when the train arrived at King’s Cross Station in London. Students flooded out of the train, ready to be reunited with their families, ready to go home. Poppy found her grandmother in the crowd and you could hear her delighted squeal as she wrapped the older woman in a big hug. Garreth went his separate way not long after. You noticed him being welcomed by a group of people, all having almost identical red hair and the same kindhearted look. Must be the Weasleys.

“Well, here we are, London,” from your side, Sebastian hummed. “Where to now?”

“The house is on the outskirts of the city. I think it's best if we take a carriage there. What do you think, Ominis?” you asked, turning to the blond-haired boy who had been rather quiet throughout the entire ride home.

To your surprise, Ominis looked exhausted. You looked down to find him nervously fiddling with his wand.

“My mother’s helpers are here. I can sense them,” he quietly said, dipping his head low. “I suppose this means I have to go see my parents first.”

“Oh…” you stilled, unsure of what to do.

If it were up to you, you'd waste no time whisking him away and maybe transfigure this helper into a chicken. The rest of his family, too. Good riddance. Yet you knew it wasn't what Ominis wanted. You probably couldn't do it either. Plus, you'd rather not get involved with the authorities, lousy as they were.

“We understand, have a safe trip, Ominis,” Sebastian said, patting the boy's back. “Let us know if you need us to kidnap you from that hell hole.”

Ominis tried to smile, but it came out strained.

“Thank you, but I'd rather you not go anywhere near my family. I don't want them to taint any of you,” he turned towards your direction. “Especially you, since we know nothing of your blood status.”

“...I understand. Please, be careful, Ominis.”

He nodded. You couldn't help but find how drastically Ominis changed in a matter of seconds. The sweet, gentle Ominis always seemed to glow when he was in Hogwarts. His smile was relaxed and his voice soft. A serene look on his face whenever he dozed off in class. Yet now, his light had been dimmed out. Eyebrows furrowed, hands couldn't stop picking on his fingernails. He looked terrified.

“I will,” he said anyway. “Be on the lookout. I honestly do not know how long I must stay at that torture house… but I'll try to join you as soon as I can.”

Sebastian patted Ominis' shoulder once again, this time giving it a firm squeeze. “Stay safe, and I mean it, call us if you need some help to escape.”

“I will. Don't worry. I have my ways,” the blond-haired boy said, relenting. He took a deep breath and placed both hands on his trolley. “See you again. And don't do anything weird when I'm gone.”

“We won't. Not too much, at least,” Sebastian replied, amusement lacing his tone.

“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear the last sentence,” Ominis huffed. He stood there for a moment, still facing the two of you. “Well, I better get going.”

“See you, Ominis.”

The Gaunt boy nodded. His expression was grim. But he adjusted his bag handles and pushed his trunk towards one of the exits. True to his words, you could see about three wizards waiting there, all dressed in black. They crowded around Ominis as soon as he was close enough, taking his belongings away from his hands to carry them on their own. No doubt it was how the heir of an important, old-money family should be treated. Yet you couldn't help but think your friend looked like a caged dove. There was a weight on his shoulders that wasn't really there before.

“He'll be alright. We've done this a couple of times before. Don't worry,” Sebastian said, nudging you with his elbow.

“Right,” you sighed and looked around the still-crowded station. “Let's go, then, but make sure nobody sees us. I'd rather them not ask any questions or worse, spread gossip.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Bit too late to consider that detail, don't you think?”

“Oh, shut it.”

Quietly, away from everyone's eyes, you and Sebastian slipped away, but not before casting one last glance at the view behind you. At the train, at Natty, Poppy, and Garreth, laughing as their families welcomed them home, hands laced together. At Ominis’ disappearing figure.

“You coming? I don’t mind leading but I kind of don’t know the way.”

You turned to find Sebastian leaning on his trolley, looking at you with an arched eyebrow, a playful smile tugging on his lips.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Follow me, country boy.”

“Lead the way, city girl.”

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #karinawrites

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fru1t4fr0gs · 10 days ago

Text

You and Me - Chapter 10

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: You disappeared weeks ago, vanishing off the grid and from his life like a ghost. While giving you space has been torture, Bucky has somehow been able to survive it. When you’re finally reunited, however, the tension might be enough to break you both.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI: PTSD, Mention of nightmares, Swearing, Trauma, Implied Sex, Mention of pregnancy (just a brief misunderstanding), Alcohol consumption, Bucky is down bad, Pining, So much pining, Angst, Reader is Tony Stark's kid but a fully grown adult (we are in charge of the timelines), Tension, Please let me know if I forgot anything!

Author’s Note: We've finally reached FATWS territory! I figured, to celebrate, I would try out a little dual POV so we can get inside of Bucky’s head. And hoo boy, call this man a tree because Bucky Barnes sure can pine. As always, thank you guys so much for all of your love for this fic! Feedback is always super appreciated!

Bucky Barnes sits across from his therapist, and he lies about having nightmares. Again.

He thinks he might be able to handle them better if he hadn’t become so used to you. You, always right there when he jolted awake, soft and warm and comforting, reminding him who he is. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore. He’s Bucky. He’s loved. And not just by anyone, but by you.

The first time you woke him from a nightmare was years ago, in Romania, but he still remembers it like it was just last night. When he would otherwise have shot upward and sat in the dark for hours, trying to pull himself back to reality, he was instead met with a warm hand on his arm. Gentle. Kind.

And then he’d looked up, shocked and feeling like some kind of wounded animal. At that point, he basically had been.

Your eyes, in that moment, were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. They reflected the moonlight spilling in through the window, shining with concern and understanding in a way that made him ache.

“Hey, Bucky.” You’d said. And you’d used his name. Not Soldat. Not Winter Soldier. He was Bucky, and you were looking at him with such steadiness and kindness that he wondered how he could have ever doubted who he was. His name sounded so good coming from your lips that he nearly asked you to say it again.

“You wanna talk about it?” You’d asked. Not pushing. Not demanding. Just offering.

He shook his head, unable to fathom the idea of ruining this perfect moment with such darkness.

You nodded, understanding, and he never wanted you to stop looking at him. There was no disgust. No fear. Hell, there wasn’t even pity. For the first time in decades, he didn’t feel like a machine. He felt like a person. Like a man.

You didn’t know it, but from that moment on, if you had climbed up to the roof of the building and asked him to jump, he would have done it with a smile on his face.

Now, with you gone, he sleeps on the floor again, unable to stand lying on a bed without you in it.

And when he wakes, the nightmare continues in a different form, because he wakes to emptiness. Absence.

Dr. Raynor is saying something, and his ears finally lock onto her words when he realizes that she’s talking about you.

“You’ve been doing worse. The nightmares have clearly been worse. You haven’t brought her up in our last five sessions. So, James, I’m going to ask again. And answer me honestly.”

He nearly groans with irritation, already knowing where this is going.

“Where is your wife?”

Bucky hesitates before he answers, the words struggling to find their way past his lips.

“…I don’t know.”

“I mean, I just don’t know what I’m doing, Alan.” You pace the room, so restless you might just start wringing your hands. “It’s not that I don’t love him. God, I do. I still do. So, so much, you know? But then he died, kind of, right in front of me. He disintegrated. And then my dad died, and Nat died, and then Steve died. And I was supposed to be part of Stark Industries and help Pepper run it but I can’t do that. I just can’t. I don’t know what I’m doing. I barely knew what I was doing before. I don’t have the- hey! Are you even listening to me? Isn’t the point of this whole thing to try to get me to talk?!”

The officer on the other end of the interrogation table looks like you just tased him awake. You glare. He stutters, nervous, and he looks young and scrawny enough that you’re pretty sure he must be brand-spanking-new to this job.

“You, uh, have the right to remain silent-“ he starts, and you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

“You already did that part. Come on, man.” You sigh, run a hand through your hair, and drop your shoulders in defeat. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. You were arrested countless times when you were younger, mostly for stealing parts or making and selling some kind of illegal tech. You’ve never rambled about your problems to an officer in an interrogation room. You’ve always had a little more swagger than that.

Then again, you haven’t had a lot of human interaction in the past few weeks.

“Look, dude. I get it. You’re new. Just tell me when Sam is gonna get here so I can get out of this room. Not that you’re not great company, but I’ve got a lecture waiting for me that I’d like to just get over with.”

“S-Sam?” The kid asks, looking down at the paperwork in front of him.

“Yeah, Sam Wilson. Government employee and all that. Hero Avenger. Kind of a prick, but in a lovable way. I told you guys to call him when you took me in.”

The kid goes pale, re-reading the name on the paper. “I, um… we called next of kin. It’s usually protocol to-“

“I don’t have a next of kin.” You snap, automatic. You swear you used to be more patient. A little nicer. But you don’t exactly love the reminder that you’re an orphan now with no family. Yeah, there’s Pepper and Morgan, but Pepper isn’t your biological family and Morgan is five years old. You can’t imagine either of their names would be on that sheet.

“Well, not in the…biological sense, but when it comes to that we call the…”

“Oh Alan,” you say, already knowing where this is going. “you didn’t.”

“The…spouse.” He says it like a wince. You stare at him in what might just be a good impression of the spouse in question.

He just keeps going, but he doesn’t have to. You can already feel the featherlight touch of a familiar gaze on your back. “Your, uh…husband? Mr. Barnes?”

“Alan,” you say again, “I thought we were friends, man.”

“I don’t…uh. I don’t know you.” He says helplessly, but you’re already ignoring him and turning around.

And there he is, leaning against the doorframe and looking right at you.

You haven’t seen him in weeks. Your heart does a somersault at the mere sight of him. Leather jacket and gloves, burning blue eyes. Fuck, you missed him. You missed him every minute of every day.

You clear your throat, bravado leaving you like a balloon deflating under his gaze.

“Hey, honey.” You say, trying for casual but just sounding painfully awkward.

He’s doing the staring thing. You can feel poor Alan shrink down in his seat like the two of you just opened fire on each other right there in the interrogation room.

“Would you look less angry if I told you this isn’t the worst thing I’ve been arrested for?”

“No.” He says, simply, low voice sounding very loud in the small room. You missed his voice. You feel an embarrassingly overwhelming urge to run into his arms like this is some sort of cheesy movie. You know he would hold you if you did. His arms would wrap around you immediately, pull you close, and you would hear him murmur that he loves you into your hair, in that deep and wonderful voice you haven’t heard in too long.

You don’t move. You can’t.

You just leave with him, fixing Alan with a glare on the way out of the room that has him cringing back in his seat even more.

You look terrible.

He’s seen you try to function on no sleep before, when the bags under your eyes darken and you get grumpy in the way he’s always found so oddly charming. He can usually fix it, whether it’s gently asking you to come home or physically carrying you out of your lab in what you’ve dubbed his ‘King King impression’. He even stopped one of your furious, hyperactive rants once with a simple smile and a kiss to your nose. Your arms had fallen back to your sides, no longer gesturing frantically, and you had stopped pacing to just thunk your head onto his shoulder.

Now, his fingers twitch at his side to do the same thing. He wants to fix it now. Like he used to. Like you used to let him.

But you left. You disappeared. You pulled back, and you’re finally right beside him but he’s terrified that if he tries to reach out to you, you might vanish again.

The bags under your eyes are deeper than he’s ever seen them. You’ve lost weight, like you haven’t been thinking to eat.

The urge to protect you, to fix it, runs through him like a chill down his spine.

Despite it all, you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He’s still surprised by that sometimes, how he can look at you after all this time and be absolutely floored by the fact that you, of all people, can love him. You found him in Romania, that broken war machine holed up and hiding from the world, and you brought back everything he was before. You brought back Bucky, without even trying. Not even that, but you made him a better version of himself. You still do, every day. Even when you’re not there, he can feel your presence like a phantom limb. The past few weeks, he’s caught himself talking to you like you might be behind him, only to turn around to find an empty kitchen. Empty bedroom. Emptiness.

Now that you’re here, even just walking silently beside him, he feels like a part of himself has been reattached. Like he’s finally whole again.

You’re the one who breaks the silence.

“You’ve been using my tech.”

Of course you would know. He never expected anything less. Even so, he feels a thrum of happiness and relief shoot through him at the revelation that you’ve been keeping tabs on him, even while you were hidden away God knows where.

“I have.” He says, glancing over to you. Casually, like he has a thousand times before, his hand moves to your waist, and he guides you so that you’re walking on the inside of the sidewalk, away from the street. That’s another thing that still surprises him - that, whenever he touches you, he feels something like a little bolt of electricity shoot through him. As you grumble something about him being old fashioned, he has to stop himself from reaching out just to touch you again. “I’ve been crossing names off of my list.”

“Oh? How’s that going?”

Memories of knocking a man out cold, of using your device to whip a car around a parking garage, run through his mind faster than a blink. You’re trying for a casual conversation. Avoiding the elephant in the room. If it keeps you here, he can try too.

“You know. Nothing illegal, no one gets hurt.”

“Liar.” You say it affectionately, and his heart skips a beat. What would you do, if he pulled you into that alley over there and kissed you until you were breathless, like he’s been thinking about doing since he saw you in that interrogation room? Would you melt against him, pull him closer? Would you come home with him, and let him show you just how much he’s missed you?

He has to shove his hands into his pockets to keep from doing it. He thinks you might sense his thoughts, too. Whether it’s from the heightened instincts the serum gave you or just the fact that you just know him well enough to read his mind, he doesn’t know. Your cheeks turn a light shade of pink, and you look away. And then he’s really fighting not to do it.

“Bold words from someone I just picked up from jail.” He says, grateful that his voice doesn’t sound as strained as he feels.

Your eyes narrow, and you fix him with a glare that just might intimidate anyone else. He has to bite back his smile.

“I thought that company might be part of a smuggling ring, okay? I just needed to confirm if I was right.”

“Were you?”

“…No. But they did have a much better security system than I expected them to.”

“You need to sleep, doll.”

“I sleep fine.”

“You’re not sleeping.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m sleeping like a damn baby.”

He can’t do it anymore. He can’t do the casual quips. The light jokes. Not when you’re so clearly hurting and refusing to let him help you. His metal arm wraps around your waist, and in one swift movement that lifts you easily off of your feet, he does pull you into the alley.

Your body has been humming with energy since the second his eyes fell on you at the precinct. This is not helping.

He’s so close. His blue eyes burn as they look down into yours. You feel that energy crackling between you like an electric current beneath your skin.

“Stop. Stop this.” His voice is low. Firm. Raw with emotion and concern. His face is so close that you can feel his breath against your lips when he speaks. Pine and leather and gunpowder overwhelm your senses and you think you might get weak in the knees like some sort of old-timey damsel. “You’re not sleeping. You’re not taking care of yourself. You left.” You feel his arm twitch around your middle, like he’s fighting the urge to pull you even closer. His voice is more quiet when he speaks again, vulnerability creeping into his tone. “Why did you leave?”

You don’t know what to say. How to say it. He’s too close to think clearly.

“I-“

You sense it first. Your head whips to the side, and you blink the fog away as a familiar voice calls out to you.

“You two. Barneses! Make this man stop throwing his trash into my cans!”

Bucky lets you go, and you have to hold back an embarrassing whimper at the loss of contact.

“We’re not done here.” He says, before turning to diffuse the situation.

As Bucky speaks to the man with the trash, Yori focuses his attention on you.

“Haven’t seen you for lunch in a long time.” His tone is accusatory.

“I’ve been…working.”

“You don’t look good. You look tired.”

“Thanks, Yori.”

“You need food.”

You bite back a groan. “I’m fine. I don’t need food.”

“He needs food, then.” Yori says, firmly, gesturing to Bucky. “I need food. I’m hungry. Take the old men to dinner.”

You look at Bucky, who seems to have finished his interaction with Trash Guy. You’re about to lie, make up an excuse and scurry back to your lab to try to lose yourself in another project and forget all about today. But…

Fuck. Bucky. His eyes. They’re open, hopeful, looking at you like he would burn the city to the ground if it meant you would just get a meal with him and your sweet old neighbor like you used to.

“Okay, fine. Dinner. Then I have to get back.” You say with a sigh, already beginning to make your way towards the restaurant near your apartment building.

You sense Bucky’s smile behind you.

“No one lived past ninety.” Yori says, pushing a newspaper into yours and Bucky’s faces to show you the obituaries.

As much as you’re still trying to bolt out the door, this feels…normal. Nice. Familiar. It’s easy to fall back into old habits, leaning into Bucky in the crowded little restaurant, ordering the same thing at the counter that you always do, cracking jokes with the two of them about their shared ‘grumpy old man’ personality.

“So young. Such a shame.” Bucky says around a mouthful of food, and you snort with laughter that you can’t manage to hold back.

“I think you look great for your old age, Sarge. Not a day over eighty.” You tell him, and he looks at you with amusement sparkling in his gaze.

You look away, unable to meet that look. There’s so much love there. Not just from him, but bubbling up in your own heart like it might overflow and drown you.

“Lots of tension between you two, tonight.” Yori says, blunt as ever. “And I haven’t seen you in a while.” He looks at you with prying eyes. “Are you pregnant?”

You choke on your water.

Hard enough, in fact, that Bucky shoots to his feet and puts his hand on your back, like he’s preparing to give you the fucking Heimlich.

You try to wave him off, eyes watering, but he doesn’t move. Protective as ever.

“You are, aren’t you?” Yori says, enthusiastically patting your shoulder. “Congratulations. It’s about time. You two are crazy. A little one might calm you down.” He looks at you, and you’re too busy trying to catch your breath to cut him off. “Makes sense why you look like you haven’t slept in so long, too. Babies take a lot out of you. I remember when my wife-“

“Three orders of sake, please.” You half shout over the counter, voice sounding a little too high pitched to be anything less than embarrassing. You feel Bucky’s eyes on you, that gentle touch of his gaze feeling like a full-on tug in his direction, and you finally turn to face him.

“Nope. Not pregnant.” You say, unable to look him in the eye as you turn back to grab the drinks.

When you hand Yori his shot, he looks disappointed.

When you turn to hand Bucky his, you could swear that he does too.

And that look makes you take your shot a whole lot faster. Makes you order more.

And then more.

Yori eventually goes home, patting both of you on the back and making a comment about marital relations that you choose to ignore, and then it’s just you and Bucky.

He sits beside you, silently, patiently. You feel the alcohol begin to cloud your mind. You order another round.

You’re drunk.

He feels like a complete jackass for letting you get drunk. For watching it happen. For matching you, shot for shot, and being so distracted by the fact that you’re here sitting in front of him again that he completely forgot that, unlike him, you can get drunk.

But every time you ordered another sake, eyes challenging as you handed one to him, he took it with you. Because you were talking to him again. Not about anything serious, not explaining exactly where you’ve been or why you left like you did, but just talking. Like you used to. You tell him about your plans for a new robot, about a weird looking pigeon you saw on the sidewalk the other day, about a smoothie place that sells what you swear is the absolute worst smoothie in New York.

He feels bad for not listening more intently, but he’s too enraptured by you. By the way you gesture with your hands as you speak, by the animation in your eyes. Shit, he even missed the cadence of your voice. He wants to bottle this moment and hold it close to his chest. To look at you for hours.

No, what he wants is to take you home, back to your shared apartment, and trace every inch of your body with his hands and his lips and his teeth until you promise to never disappear again-

“And that’s why I think I should just keep doing crystal meth, you know? It wasn’t so bad when I tried it, and it helps me get a lot of work done.”

He blinks, your words whipping him out of his thoughts, and stares at you now with wide eyes.

“I knew it.” You say proudly, grinning. “You’re not listening. You’re doing the thinking-staring thing, not the listening-staring thing.”

You’re clearly expecting him to smile. He doesn’t. He just looks at you, and the longing he feels must be reflected in his expression because the proud grin falls from your lips and you turn away, clearing your throat and taking another shot. You reach over and take his too, and the moment slips through his fingers.

When you step outside, you stumble. You didn’t realize how much you drank until you actually stood up, and you suddenly find yourself trying to blink the dizziness from your vision as the cool air hits your face.

“Shit.” You grumble, frustrated by your sudden lack of clarity, before you feel an arm wrap around your waist.

“C’mon, doll.” You hear, and you instinctively relax. “Let’s get you home.”

Home. Home sounds nice. You don’t really have the words to explain to him that home is the man standing beside you, helping to guide you down the street back to the apartment.

“M’tired.” You finally admit as he opens the door to the building. Despite what you’ve been saying, you really haven’t been sleeping.

“I know.” His voice is so gentle. So warm.

You almost trip on the first step, and in less than a second you’re being lifted into the air. Bucky lifts you with one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back, and you don’t have the wherewithal to argue. Your own arm slides around his neck, holding yourself close to him as he ascends the few floors to the apartment you haven’t entered in weeks.

He sets you down once you reach your room, and you let him help you into a pair of his sweatpants and one of his t-shirts before you collapse into bed.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you register that the bed doesn’t feel like it’s been slept in.

But then you feel a familiar weight slide onto the mattress beside you, and a vibranium arm reaches out to tuck you under the covers.

You roll over, twisting your head on the pillow to look at him. And he’s looking right back at you with those lovely blue eyes.

Home.

Bucky would do anything, break anything, kill anything in the world to kiss you right now.

But he can see the haziness in your eyes. The exhaustion. And you’re finally back. You’re home, and you’re looking at him in that way you have that makes him feel so unbelievably warm. It took so long for him to believe he might, just maybe, deserve that look.

“You’re doing the staring thing.” You murmur, sleepy and just a little bit slurred.

He can’t help it. His hand reaches up to cradle your cheek. He’s gentle. Careful. That distant part of him is still terrified that he might break you. He spent so long fighting, killing, causing pain. And you are just too precious to hurt.

You turn your face into his hand. Kiss his palm. But it’s what you whisper next that makes his heart ache.

“I love the way you look at me.”

He has to grit his teeth to keep tears from pricking at his eyes. He gives in, then, just a little, moving his hand from your face and wrapping it around you to pull you closer. He tucks you into his chest, and the feeling of your sigh - like you’re relieved by it - makes him hold you tighter.

“You and me.” He whispers into your hair, the words a quiet plea as he listens to your breathing, cherishing every moment he gets to hold you close to him again.

“You and me.” You whisper back.

He falls asleep to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

He doesn’t dream.

And, when he wakes, you’re gone again.

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Taglist: @vicmc624, @saucysasha2035, @iyskgd, @intothesoul, @capswife, @otterlycanadian, @phoenix666stuff

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #tfatws fanfiction #the winter soldier #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier x you #winter solider x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #x reader #x reader fanfiction

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blushweddinggowns · 27 days ago

Text

Eddie was holding onto Steve's shit like a life line. Steve would have to come get it eventually. Or send his sidekick.

Robin.

It wasn't exactly truthful to say that Steve disappeared. Eddie knew exactly where Steve was. Locked away in Robin’s room, completely out of reach.

He’d tried once. Three days after the initial ordeal. He’d known that he was in deep shit when he pulled up. Robin had been in full view of her open window, staring at him with such a hateful look it made him cringe. By the time Eddie got out of the van she was gone, presumably to open the door. Yet when he knocked, there was no answer.

He rang the doorbell, alternating between that and knocking before he finally heard someone on the other side. But they didn’t open it. Instead they shoved something through the mailslot, a rolled up piece of paper.

Eddie grabbed it, beyond annoyed that this had been her solution to avoid talking to him. He read it, cursing loudly at what he saw.

He doesn’t want to see you. Leave.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Eddie asked, raising his voice enough to be heard through the wood, “If I can’t talk to him, can I at least talk to you-”

He stopped mid sentence, interrupted by another slip of paper.

No. Leave. If you make me ask again I’ll call the cops.

Eddie crumped the paper up after reading it, his annoyance turning to anger with lightning speed, “You’re going to have me arrested for trying to talk to him? That’s insane-”

Another piece. Eddie snatched it up.

The phone’s in my hand. You have two minutes.

The worst part was that he knew she wasn’t joking.

He’d had no choice but to stalk back to his van, cursing the whole way there. His stomach churning with a mix of fury and agony at the whole situation. Any calls to the Buckley house had led to the same thing. No answer. With Robin no doubt screening every call like a hawk.

A part of Eddie knew that he had no right to be mad at her. He was the fuck up here. There was a substantial mix of self-hatred included into his every day misery. But somehow, he couldn’t help but be pissed off.

Because yes. Eddie was a fuck up. But Steve wasn’t. He deserved to know the truth. That Eddie was a disgusting coward, but one that loved him. And only him, even if it ended with Steve telling him to fuck off. He’d earned the right to at least grovel, for God’s sake. A right that was being completely denied by someone who didn’t even understand what was between them. She couldn’t, no matter what Steve had told her.

“Eds?”

Eddie glanced up, so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed Wayne come into the living room. He swallowed, nodding at him, “Hey.”

Wayne frowned, plopping down on the couch next to him, “What’s going on?”

Eddie sighed, pitching the bridge of his nose. His eyes closing. He didn’t need clarification, he knew exactly what Wayne was asking. If anything he’s surprised it took him this long to ask.

“I fucked up,” Eddie mumbled, just loud enough to be heard.

“How bad?”

Eddie didn’t look up, “Real bad.”

from the next chapter of this fic

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #fic preview #she mad lol #angst #fic excerpt

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kikis-writing-service · 2 months ago

Text

Spicy Curry (Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader) Chapter 9

Summary: Pro-hero DynaMight hides his developing hearing loss from the public. He doesn’t want them or the villains to know about what he considers his only weakness. His family knows. His best friends know. And now you, the owner of his favorite little curry shop, know. You want to live a quiet life & to protect your son. The last thing you want is to draw attention to yourself. You hide your identity, you hide your scars, and you hide your quirk. And then Bakugou, Katsuki walks in one day with dried blood on his ears, and you can’t help but help him.

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Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | ? ? ?

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Content Warning: This fic will contain mentions of past abuse from a “partner”, including sexual assault. It will also contain depictions of ableism, both from external sources and internalized ableism.

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By the time you reached the shop, the gentle rain had turned into a steady downpour. Despite your efforts to outrun the storm, all three of you were drenched as you hurried through the door.

"Come upstairs and dry off," you signed, water dripping from your sleeves as you gestured toward the staircase. "I'll get some towels."

Kouichi was already shivering slightly, his hair plastered to his forehead as he peeled off his wet jacket. Katsuki followed, his usual spiky hair now flattened by the rain, water trailing down his neck and dampening his shirt collar.

The three of you climbed the familiar narrow staircase, the worn steps creaking under your weight. Once inside the apartment, you immediately headed for the linen closet, retrieving a stack of fluffy towels while Katsuki and Kouichi waited near the door, mindful of the puddles forming beneath them on the hardwood floor.

"Here," you signed after setting most of the towels on the counter, keeping one for Kouichi. With practiced efficiency, you knelt in front of your son, gently toweling his hair dry first, then helping him out of his damp outer clothes. "Go change into something warm," you instructed, and he nodded, taking the towel and disappearing down the hallway to his room.

You turned to Katsuki, who had already grabbed one of the towels and was drying his arms and shoulders, water still dripping from his soaked hair onto his face. Without thinking, you stepped closer with another dry towel in hand.

"Your hair is still dripping," you signed, gesturing to the wet strands plastered to his forehead. When he paused his movements, you reached up to gently press the towel against his dripping hair. It was the same instinctive care you'd just shown Kouichi, your movements automatic and maternal.

"You're soaked through," you murmured, your hands working the towel through his ash-blonde hair, soaking up the rainwater that had flattened his usually spiky locks against his head.

It wasn't until you felt his stillness that you realized what you were doing. His crimson eyes were fixed on your face, intense and unreadable, only inches away as you worked the towel over his head. Your hands slowed as awareness crept in—this wasn't Kouichi, and what felt natural with your son suddenly felt charged with something else entirely.

The small space between you seemed to crackle with an unexpected tension. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek, count each drop of water that traced its way down his temple. Your hands became motionless against the towel, frozen in place as you became intensely aware of his proximity, the moment suspended between you.

Time seemed to stretch and contract all at once. Something shifted in his gaze—a question, perhaps, or a recognition that mirrored your own sudden awareness. For a brief, breathless moment, neither of you moved. What had started as a simple gesture now carried a weight that sent your pulse racing.

His jaw tightened slightly, the muscle there jumping once beneath his skin. The subtle movement broke the spell, reality crashing back as you realized how long you'd been standing there, hands still pressed against the towel covering his hair, face close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin.

You stepped back abruptly, nearly stumbling in your haste to put distance between you. The towel came away in your hands, and you stared at it for a moment as if it might explain what had just happened.

"Sorry," you signed, pushing the towel toward him with unsteady hands. "Force of habit."

As he took it, his fingers brushed against yours—a fleeting touch that sent a jolt up your arm.

"Unfortunately, I don’t have any dry clothes that would fit you," you signed, your movements a little too quick, betraying your sudden nervousness. "The bathroom's down the hall if you want to finish drying off properly."

Katsuki nodded, a slight pink tinge visible on his ears despite his otherwise composed expression. "Thanks," he said, voice a little rougher than usual.

"I should change too," you added, already backing toward your bedroom door. "Make yourself at home. I won't be long."

Once safely behind your closed door, you leaned against it, pressing your hand to your flushed cheek. What had possessed you to dry his hair like that? You'd touched him with the same familiar care you showed Kouichi, as if it were the most natural thing in the world—and for a moment, it had felt that way.

But the intensity in his gaze when you'd realized what you were doing...it had sent your heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with maternal instinct. You'd seen a depth in his eyes that was usually hidden behind his gruff exterior, a vulnerability that matched your own. For that suspended moment, with your hands in his hair and his eyes locked on yours, the careful boundaries you'd built around yourself had wavered.

The realization unsettled you. You'd spent years building those walls, keeping everyone except Kouichi at a safe distance. Yet somehow, without you noticing, Katsuki had been slipping past your defenses, finding his way into the quiet rhythms of your life. At what point had his presence started to feel so natural?

You took a deep breath, pushing away from the door to find dry clothes. After changing quickly, you combed your fingers through your damp hair, trying to compose yourself before facing him again. It was just Katsuki—the gruff hero who'd become a fixture in your life these past weeks. There was no reason for your hands to feel unsteady or for your heart to race like this.

When you finally emerged, you found Katsuki in the living room, hair sticking up in damp spikes where he'd toweled it dry. Your eyes traitorously traced how his t-shirt clung to his still-damp skin, the thin fabric molding to the defined muscles of his chest and shoulders. The rain continued to drum against the windows, punctuated occasionally by distant thunder, but all you could hear was your own heartbeat quickening as his crimson gaze locked onto yours.

"I was thinking of making oyakodon for dinner," you signed, your movements stiffer than usual as you moved toward the kitchen with deliberate casualness, putting the counter between you like a shield. "Something warm for a night like this."

Katsuki followed, leaning against the doorframe for a moment before entering. The small kitchen felt impossibly smaller with him in it, his presence filling the space in a way that made your skin prickle with awareness. You turned quickly to the refrigerator, grateful for the cool air against your flushed face as you pretended to search for ingredients.

"Oyakodon?" He raised an eyebrow, his voice carrying a rough edge that sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. "Didn't take you for a home-style cook after all that fancy curry work."

You kept your back to him a moment longer than necessary, gathering your composure before turning with an armful of ingredients. "There's comfort in simple food," you replied, carefully avoiding his eyes as you placed everything on the counter. "Especially on nights like this."

He shifted closer, reaching for one of the onions you'd set down. Your fingers accidentally brushed against his, and you pulled back as if burned, nearly dropping an egg in the process. His jaw tightened slightly—the only indication he'd noticed your reaction.

"I'm helping," he stated rather than offered, his tone leaving no room for argument as he took a half-step back, giving you breathing space. "Don't even try to argue."

Despite your usual independence—or perhaps because you needed the distraction—you found yourself nodding. "Fine. You can handle the chicken and onions, if you think you're up to it," you replied, forcing a hint of challenge into your expression, falling back on playful antagonism to mask your lingering nervousness.

The familiar spark of competition flashed in his eyes, momentarily replacing that dangerous intensity that had left you so flustered. "The hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked, straightening at the perceived challenge. "Of course I can handle it."

"Forgive me for being surprised," you signed, relief washing through you as the awkwardness began to dissipate, replaced by the comfortable banter that had become your refuge."I didn't realize pro heroes had time to learn cooking skills."

"My old man taught me," Katsuki replied, reaching for the knife with practiced ease.

The image of a younger Katsuki cooking with his father flashed in your mind, and you had to fight back a smile. There was something endearing about picturing him as a child, learning culinary skills alongside a patient parent.

"Said hero work burns a lot of calories and I needed to know how to feed myself properly." Though his expression remained neutral, there was something more relaxed in his posture now, the earlier tension between you shifting to something more comfortable as he began preparing the ingredients.

Your kitchen wasn't designed for two people—just a modest galley layout with barely enough counter space for your own cooking needs. Having Katsuki in the space should have felt intrusive, but as he moved beside you to wash his hands, shoulders nearly touching in the confined area, you found yourself acutely aware of how naturally he seemed to fit.

His movements in the kitchen were efficient and precise—there was an unexpected grace to the way he handled the knife, breaking down the chicken with skilled movements that spoke of years of practice. The rhythm of his chopping created a steady backdrop to the rain outside, grounding in its simplicity. You found yourself almost mesmerized by the domesticity of it—how someone so intense in his hero work could be so measured and calm in this mundane task.

The soft padding of feet against the hallway floor broke your trance. Kouichi reappeared in fresh clothes, his damp hair sticking up in places despite his attempts to smooth it down. His eyes lit up at the sight of Katsuki wielding a knife in your kitchen, clearly intrigued by this new development.

"You're cooking with Mom?" he signed, moving closer to investigate.

"Oyakodon," Katsuki signed back with one hand. "Want to help?"

The invitation clearly delighted Kouichi, who nodded eagerly. You were already pulling his small step stool from its place beside the refrigerator, positioning it at the counter with practiced movements.

The three of you fell into a surprisingly comfortable rhythm, navigating the small kitchen with an ease that felt almost practiced. Katsuki handled the chicken and vegetables with focused precision, while Kouichi concentrated on whisking the eggs under your guidance. You prepared the dashi mixture, stealing glances at Katsuki when you thought he wasn't looking.

A flash of lightning illuminated the kitchen, followed by a crack of thunder that vibrated through the floorboards. Though Kouichi couldn't hear it, he must have felt the vibration because he looked up toward the window, eyes wide with excitement rather than fear.

"The storm's getting closer," you signed, moving to check your phone for weather updates.

The screen displayed a severe weather alert: "Flash flood warning in effect for downtown and eastern districts. Heavy rainfall is expected to continue through the night. Avoid unnecessary travel."

You showed the alert to Katsuki, concern creeping into your expression despite your efforts to remain casual. "Your place is in the eastern district, right? They're saying the roads might flood."

Another flash of lightning cut through the room, closer this time, briefly turning everything stark white before plunging back into the warm glow of your kitchen lights. The thunder that followed shook the small apartment, rattling the dishes in the cabinets.

You bit your lip, glancing at the worsening storm outside. "Maybe you should stay here tonight," you suggested, the familiar concern you'd developed for him creeping into your expression. "The weather's only getting worse."

Katsuki's eyes met yours, searching your face for something you couldn't name. "I'll be fine," he said. "I've dealt with worse than a little rain."

"It's not just rain," you countered, gesturing toward your phone with its glaring alert. "They're reporting street flooding already. The trains might stop running soon too."

Another violent crack of thunder seemed to emphasize your point, the rain now beating against the windows with renewed intensity. Inviting him to stay felt easy—but it also meant something.

Having him in your shop was one thing, even in your kitchen helping with dinner. But having him spend the night, becoming part of your most private hours was something else entirely.

"The couch is comfortable enough," you added with a small shrug, trying to sound casual. Your eyes met his, and you found yourself adding, "Besides, Kouichi would be disappointed if you left now."

It was easier to frame it in terms of Kouichi's feelings rather than admit your own relief at not having to worry about Katsuki in the storm.

Katsuki glanced between you and Kouichi, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. For a moment, you thought he might refuse—his pride had always been his most predictable trait. But the storm chose that moment to punctuate your invitation with a particularly violent flash of lightning, followed almost immediately by thunder that shook the small apartment.

"Fine," he finally conceded, turning back to the cutting board as if the decision were inconsequential. But the slight pink tinge at the tips of his ears told a different story.

Relief washed through you. You nodded and turned back to the stove, where the rich aroma of simmering dashi was beginning to fill the small kitchen, mingling with the scent of caramelizing onions and chicken. Steam rose from the pan as Katsuki worked the ingredients with practiced ease.

"Almost ready," he signed, breaking your momentary trance. "Just need to add the eggs."

Kouichi, stationed at Katsuki’s other side on his step stool, held the bowl of beaten eggs with such concentration that the tip of his tongue peeked out between his lips. He looked to you for confirmation, and at your nod, carefully poured the mixture over the simmering ingredients.

"Lid," Katsuki instructed. Kouichi quickly handed him the pot lid, pride evident in his expression at being an essential part of this process.

As Katsuki lifted the lid to check the eggs, the gentle cloud of steam carried the mouthwatering aroma throughout the kitchen. He nodded once, satisfied with his creation, and reached for the bowls you'd set out. He divided the oyakodon evenly, the glossy eggs and tender chicken nestled perfectly atop beds of rice.

"This looks amazing," you acknowledged. "You've been hiding your cooking talents all this time."

"Yeah, well," he signed back, a hint of color touching his cheeks, warming his pale complexion. "Kind of hard to share when you're always the one behind the counter."

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest at this glimpse of a side he rarely showed. "Then I'm glad you had the chance tonight," you replied, gathering utensils for the three of you.

The small dining table tucked against the wall barely accommodated the three of you, your knees occasionally brushing against Katsuki's under the table in a way that sent electricity up your spine. The first bite melted in your mouth, perfectly seasoned and comforting in its warmth.

"This is so good!" Kouichi signed, his enthusiasm impossible to contain as his hands flew in animated gestures between eager bites. "Can you teach me to cook too?" he asked Katsuki, his hopeful expression impossible to resist.

"Sure," Katsuki replied with a casualness that belied the significance of promising future time together. "We'll start with something simpler next time."

Next time. The words settled between you, carrying weight beyond their simple meaning. This temporary arrangement—Katsuki's medical leave, his help with Kouichi's quirk, his increasingly frequent presence in your space—all of it had an invisible expiration date. Eventually, he would return to hero work, to his real life beyond this small apartment with its worn furniture and cramped kitchen. The thought created an unexpected ache in your chest that you quickly pushed aside.

The meal passed in comfortable conversation, interrupted occasionally by particularly loud crashes of thunder that rattled the windows.

As dinner wound down, you began gathering the empty dishes. "I'll handle cleanup," you signed, already moving toward the sink. "Kouichi, don't you have that number worksheet to finish for tomorrow?"

Kouichi's face fell momentarily before brightening as he turned to Katsuki. "Will you help me? It's counting and patterns."

"Alright," he agreed. "Get your stuff and we'll work on it in the living room."

You watched as they settled on the couch, Kouichi's small backpack between them as he pulled out his workbook. The domesticity of the scene made your heart ache in a way that was both sweet and painful—this brief glimpse of what a different life might have looked like, with someone to share the everyday moments of raising your son.

The storm provided a steady soundtrack as you washed the dishes, occasionally glancing over to where Katsuki patiently helped Kouichi with his assignment. Their heads were bent close together, Katsuki's ash-blonde hair a stark contrast to Kouichi's dark locks as they studied the worksheet. You found yourself memorizing the image—storing it away for later, for when this temporary arrangement inevitably ended.

You turned your attention back to the sink, losing yourself in the familiar rhythm of rinsing and drying. The gentle clink of dishes and splash of water created a soothing melody that matched the patter of rain against the windows. You were so focused on wiping down the counters and putting away the last of the dishes that you didn't immediately notice the sudden quiet from the living room. It was only when you turned to check on them that you realized they were gone. The worksheet and pencil lay abandoned on the coffee table, but both Katsuki and Kouichi were gone. It took you a moment to register what must have happened—so absorbed in your cleaning routine, you'd missed Katsuki taking your son to bed.

The realization struck you. This wasn't a visitor helping out; this was someone who had become so familiar with your routines that he just handled it himself. Not because you'd asked him to, not because he was trying to prove something, but because it had become natural for him.

For years, it had just been you and Kouichi against the world—you tackling each parental duty alone, from midnight fevers to scraped knees to bedtime stories. You'd grown so accustomed to handling everything yourself that the thought of someone stepping in without being asked felt almost jarring. Not unwelcome, but foreign in its casualness.

You were still processing this when Katsuki emerged from the hallway, returning to the kitchen where you stood with a dishcloth in your hand. He moved with the easy confidence of someone who belonged here.

"He's out cold," Katsuki signed, his movements precise but relaxed. "Tucked him in. Made sure the nightlight was on the dimmer setting."

"Did you remember his—" you began to sign.

"Yeah, his plush fell on the floor. Put it next to his pillow," Katsuki answered before you could finish. "And checked the window was closed tight because of the storm."

The simplicity of his response only amplified its impact. This wasn't someone helping out once; this was someone who had been paying attention all along. Who had watched you parent and absorbed every detail because he cared enough to notice.

"Thanks," you signed, the word simple but weighted. You hung the dishcloth over the sink edge to dry, processing what his quiet attentiveness to your son's needs truly meant.

The storm outside seemed to intensify the quiet between you, rain drumming against the windows and sealing you off from the rest of the world. Your apartment suddenly felt smaller—not cramped, but intimate in a way that made you acutely aware of his presence. Of the fact that you were alone with him.

Katsuki's eyes met yours across the kitchen. They'd always been intense—those crimson eyes that missed nothing—but now they held something else.

For a moment neither of you moved. The air felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes. You found yourself noticing details you'd trained yourself not to see—the way his ash-blonde hair caught the kitchen light, how his shoulders filled the doorframe, the careful way he held himself, as if conscious of the power contained in his body.

A crack of thunder broke the moment. You stepped back, needing distance from whatever was building between you.

"I'm going to sit down for a bit," you signed, motioning toward the living room. “Feel free to join me.”

Katsuki silently followed after you, but you felt his presence behind you—solid and real and impossible to ignore.

Katsuki settled onto the couch, his usual commanding presence softened in the gentle lamplight. You took a seat beside him, leaving a careful space between you that felt both necessary and disappointing.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The comfortable silence stretched between you, filled only by the gentle patter of rain and the occasional distant rumble of thunder.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he made no move to check it. Instead, he leaned his head back against the couch, eyes closing briefly as he exhaled a long breath. The day's tension seemed to drain from his shoulders as he sat there, his usual alertness giving way to a rare moment of visible fatigue.

"Long day," you signed when he opened his eyes again, not really a question but an observation.

He snorted softly. "You could say that."

Another comfortable silence fell between you.

"I saw the news today," you finally signed, hands steady despite the weight of your words. "That's why I had the TV off. I couldn't stand watching them say those things, and I definitely didn't want Kouichi exposed to any of it."

Katsuki's fingers dug into his knee, knuckles white before he caught himself and deliberately relaxed his grip. He clicked his tongue before signing, "So you saw that too." His signs were clipped, held closer to his body than usual.

"It was hard to miss," you admitted. You paused, watching the rain streak down the window before adding, "I had to turn the TV off. I won't let Kouichi see people questioning whether someone can be a hero just because they're deaf or have hearing loss."

Something flickered across Katsuki's expression—surprise, then realization. His eyes darted toward Kouichi's bedroom door before returning to yours, sharper now.

"Didn't think about the kid seeing it."

"You've had enough to deal with just handling it yourself," you replied, the gentleness in your signs contrasting with your direct gaze.

"What exactly did you see?" he asked, his signs sharp and controlled despite the tension evident in his shoulders. Part of him needed to know exactly what you’d witnessed, what image of him you now carried.

"The morning news segments," you admitted, holding his gaze. "They showed footage from your recent missions, highlighting moments when you seemed to miss audio cues. The commentators kept suggesting your hearing loss was putting civilians at risk." You paused, hands momentarily stilling as you remembered the cruel framing. "The headlines were brutal - calling you a 'liability' and questioning whether you should keep your hero license."

A muscle jumped in his jaw as he absorbed your words. His fingers curled into a tight fist against his thigh before deliberately relaxing.

"I saw some of it," he signed, movements unnaturally controlled, betraying the tension rippling beneath his surface. "They dug up footage from my last three missions, analyzing every moment I didn't immediately respond to something." His eyes darkened. "The public comments were... clear about where they stand."

"And what do you think?" you asked, keeping your signs measured despite the protective anger building in your chest.

The question hung between you as he stared into the middle distance, his jaw working silently. The seconds stretched into uncomfortable silence, his expression growing more withdrawn with each passing moment. You began to regret pushing him.

"I'm sorry," you started to sign. "You don't have to—"

"They might not be wrong." His hands cut through your apology, each sign formed with painful precision. The admission carved lines of tension across his face as his crimson eyes finally met yours, raw with an honesty that made your chest ache. "In combat, if I can't hear someone calling for help, or an approaching threat—"

"You adapt," you said, your signs gentle but confident. "Which you've already been doing, right? You've always found ways to overcome obstacles."

His eyes met yours, uncertainty visible where his usual confidence should be. "I've been working on it," he signed, movements carrying both frustration and resolve. "New support gear, different patrol formations, backup comm systems." His jaw tightened. "But it's different when it affects safety. When a missed sound could mean someone doesn't make it home."

"Is it really that different from any other limitation?" You straightened, signs sharp and deliberate. "Firefighters train specifically for when they can't see in smoke-filled buildings. And pilots have multiple backup systems and protocols for when instruments fail mid-flight." You tapped the table between you for emphasis. "Having hearing loss is just one more tactical consideration."

His crimson eyes flashed, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he leaned forward. There was no gratitude in his expression, no relief—just that fierce intensity that made him such a formidable hero. You'd struck a nerve, but not in the way most people did. You hadn't offered platitudes or pity; you'd framed his situation as a problem to be solved rather than a tragedy to be mourned. It was the first time someone had approached his hearing loss as a tactical challenge rather than a personal failure.

"Tch. That's a fucking oversimplification," he said aloud, his voice rough and low from disuse. The unexpected shift from signing to speech caught you off guard, the deep timbre of his words resonating somewhere in your chest.

"I'm not saying it's simple," you signed, your movements steady and deliberate. "I'm saying it's manageable. Different from what you're used to, but not impossible."

Your words hit something raw in him. He shifted abruptly, the couch creaking beneath his weight. One hand clenched into a fist at his side, knuckles whitening before he deliberately relaxed his fingers.

"You make it sound so straightforward," he signed, each movement sharp with frustration. His crimson eyes narrowed, pride and vulnerability warring in his expression. "Like I just need a better attitude or something."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" His signs cut through the air, sharp with frustration. "Because from where I'm sitting, my entire career—everything I’ve ever worked for—”

"Is still yours," you interrupted, refusing to back down despite the intensity of his glare. "Unless you decide it isn't."

His eyes locked with yours, something vulnerable flickering beneath the hardened exterior he typically maintained. The rain filled the silence between you, softer now, a steady rhythm against the windows that seemed to emphasize the quietness of this moment of honesty.

"My whole life," he finally signed, his movements precise and measured despite the intensity behind them, "has been about pushing past limits. Being number one. That's not just what I do—it's who I am."

You watched him, letting the words settle between you. There was no pity in your gaze, only that steady patience that had become his anchor.

"What if meeting your own standards looks different now?" you asked, the question gentle but direct.

His expression shifted, defensiveness giving way to something more raw—a momentary glimpse of the fear that lay beneath his confidence.

"I don't know how to accept anything less from myself," he admitted, his hands forming the signs with reluctance, each movement heavy with the weight of confession. His eyes shifted away, focusing on the rain-streaked window rather than meeting your gaze.

The vulnerability in his admission struck something deep within you. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers gentle as they brushed his jaw, guiding him to face you again. His muscles tensed beneath your touch, surprise flickering across his features.

"If anyone can learn how," you said aloud, your voice soft but clear enough that you knew he could read your lips at this proximity, "it's you."

The simple faith in your words seemed to reach him in a way nothing else had. His expression shifted, the hard lines of frustration softening into something more fragile, more genuine. He leaned almost imperceptibly into your palm, his crimson eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

Something unspoken passed between you—a recognition, an understanding deeper than words could express. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before returning to meet yours, a question forming in the silence. Your heart hammered against your ribs, the steady rhythm of rain against the windows fading into the background.

He leaned forward, closing the distance between you with quiet certainty. The familiar scent of caramel and smoke that always clung to him enveloped you as the couch shifted beneath your weight. His forehead touched yours, the contact sending electricity down your spine. Your noses brushed, his breath warm against your lips, fanning across your skin in a gentle rhythm that matched the quickening of your pulse. Your eyes drifted half-closed, his eyelashes close enough that you could feel them against your skin like butterfly wings. Everything else faded away—the storm, the shop below, the complications that had kept you isolated for so long—leaving only this moment of anticipation suspended between you.

In this precious second of connection, years of careful distance and rigid boundaries began to weaken. The fear that had become your faithful companion battled with an unexpected longing that blossomed in your chest. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to imagine a different life—one where your past didn't haunt your every decision, where letting someone in didn't risk everything you'd built, where happiness wasn't something other people had while you stood watching from a distance.

His breath mingled with yours, warm and impossibly intimate. His lips brushed against yours, the contact feather-light yet electrifying, sending a shiver of longing through your entire body.

Then reality crashed in. Kouichi's questioning face if this ended badly. Katsuki's inevitable return to hero work. The scars that marked you as damaged. The danger that followed you like a shadow.

A voice that sounded like survival whispered: He's too young. Too driven. He deserves someone whole.

The scar hidden beneath your shirt seemed to burn, a permanent reminder of what happens when you mistake intensity for love. You'd walked this path before—drawn in by strength and certainty—only to discover too late the control that waited beneath.

You pulled back abruptly, creating distance between you despite the ache in your chest that wanted the opposite. The sudden absence of his warmth felt jarring in the comfortable apartment, like stepping from a warm room into winter air.

"It's getting late," you signed, your hands less steady than you would have liked, betraying the emotion you fought to conceal. "We should probably get some rest."

Confusion flashed across his face, crimson eyes widening slightly before recognition dawned. You watched something that looked like hurt cross his features before his expression settled into careful neutrality—a mask sliding into place with practiced ease.

"Yeah," he agreed. The single sign carrying a weight that made your throat tighten. "Long day."

The excuse hung in the air between you, flimsy and transparent. You both knew it wasn't fatigue that had made you pull away, but neither was brave enough to acknowledge the real reasons.

You stood quickly, needing space to gather your composure. "I'll get you some blankets for the couch," you signed, already moving toward the linen closet, grateful for the chance to turn away from his searching gaze.

Behind you, you could feel his eyes following your retreat, could almost sense the questions forming in his mind. When you returned with an armful of bedding, his expression had settled into that familiar mask of careful neutrality, all vulnerability tucked safely away.

"Here," you offered, setting the bedding beside him on the couch.

He nodded, accepting the blankets with careful movements that ensured your fingers wouldn't brush. The deliberate avoidance of contact stung more than it should have.

"Thanks," he signed simply.

An awkward silence fell between you, heavy with all the things left unsaid. The easy connection you'd shared just minutes ago had transformed into something tense and uncertain. You found yourself searching for safe ground, for some way to restore the comfortable dynamic that had been developing between you.

"If you need anything else, just... let me know," you signed, the offer feeling inadequate against the weight of what had almost happened.

Katsuki nodded, already arranging the blankets with efficient movements that signaled retreat. The practicality of the action closed a door between you as surely as if he'd walked away.

"Goodnight, then," you signed, lingering by the hallway, reluctant to end things on this note yet unsure how to mend them.

His crimson eyes held yours with an intensity that belied his casual posture. For a moment, something flickered in his gaze—a question, perhaps, or a challenge—before it was carefully tucked away.

"Goodnight," he signed back, his movements precise and controlled.

Alone in your bedroom, you brushed your fingers lightly across your lips where the ghost of his almost-kiss still lingered. The warmth of his breath against your mouth, the electric anticipation as his lips hovered just a breath away from yours—these sensations remained imprinted on your skin like a phantom touch. You'd built your life around self-sufficiency, around needing no one but Kouichi. Yet now, the solitude you'd crafted so carefully felt hollow in a way it never had before.

You couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if you hadn't pulled away. Would he have pulled you closer, strong arms wrapping around you like you'd caught yourself imagining on quiet nights when loneliness felt too heavy to bear alone?

But these were dangerous thoughts, leading down paths you couldn't afford to travel. Katsuki's life was elsewhere—in hero work, in a future bright with promise and possibility. Your life was here—in this small shop, in raising Kouichi, in the careful routine you'd built to keep you both safe. The distance between those realities felt insurmountable in the quiet darkness of your bedroom.

You stared at the ceiling, replaying his expression when you pulled away—that flash of confusion followed by masked hurt. Had he truly wanted to kiss you, or was this just a momentary attraction brought on by proximity and shared vulnerability? Men like Katsuki, young and driven and full of potential, didn't end up with women like you—women with complicated pasts and scars. You'd been down this road before, mistaking intensity for something deeper, and the consequences had shaped your entire life since.

A part of you wanted to get up, to walk back into the living room and finish what had almost started. To feel his lips against yours, to let yourself be held for the first time in years. Instead, you lay perfectly still, listening to the gentle sounds of him settling on your couch, imagining him just as sleepless as you were.

In the living room, Katsuki stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling as the rain continued its gentle rhythm against the windows. His jaw clenched as he replayed the moment in his mind—your gentle touch against his jaw, guiding him to face you, the warmth of your fingers against his skin. He'd leaned into your palm, drawn to the comfort it offered. That moment of connection had felt so certain, so right—your breath mingling with his, the feather-light brush of his lips against yours that sent electricity through his entire body.

Then you'd pulled away suddenly, and the loss of your warmth had left him adrift.

The ghost of that almost-kiss haunted him now. Had he misread everything? The tenderness in your eyes when you'd touched his face, how you'd held his gaze with such understanding before he'd leaned in—all of it had seemed clear enough. He prided himself on reading combat situations with precision, but relationships? That was territory where his track record failed him.

Your expression when you'd pulled back replayed in his mind—that flash of longing quickly overtaken by fear. There had been something in your eyes he couldn't quite name, a shadow that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with whatever you carried from your past.

Unbidden, Mina's words from their breakup surfaced: "You never let anyone get close enough to see the real you." The irony wasn't lost on him that now he found himself on the opposite side, pressing against someone else's defenses instead of maintaining his own.

The blanket you'd given him carried your scent. Without thinking, he pulled it closer to his face, inhaling deeply before catching himself. Your scent had become synonymous with comfort in his mind, an anchor in the time he'd spent in your orbit, though he'd never admit how quickly your presence had become a source of peace he hadn't known he was seeking.

Sleep eluded him as the rain tapped a gentler rhythm against the windows. He knew, somehow, that you were still awake too, just as restless on the other side of that wall. Both of you lying there, separated by a thin barrier and fears neither was ready to name.

#spicy curry #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou imagine #katsuki imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki angst #bakugou angst

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kmlottin · 4 months ago

Text

Close Quarters - Kylian Mbappé fic

Chapter 8

Summary: A physiotherapist, Y/N, joins Real Madrid to get away from her past. Only to find Kylian Mbappé, her former patient and conflict, has joined a year later. As they’re forced to work together, lingering feelings and unresolved tension lead to a slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers romance filled with workplace drama and passion.

Ly all babies, this was my favourite chapter to write, let me know what you think 😇

13k words

Warning: smut

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2023 - final day

The training facility felt different today. Lighter, somehow.

The weight of the season had unraveled, leaving behind a strange mix of exhaustion and anticipation. The final game had been played, the trophies lifted, and now, those who hadn’t already flown off for their summer vacations filtered in for recovery sessions, one last day of routine before the break took them all in different directions.

Sunlight streamed through the wide windows, cutting through the cool, clinical space of the physio room. It was too warm for Paris, the kind of heat that made everything move slower, stretched conversations longer. Across the room, Marco packed away cooling packs, stacking them neatly in the freezer, while Elise checked the expiry dates on a tray of medical supplies.

It was a slow day. The kind where you should’ve felt at ease.

But you were leaving.

And that changed everything.

Elise sighed dramatically, plopping down beside you on the treatment table with an exaggerated groan. “And that’s another season in the books.”

You smiled, nodding. “Finally.”

She nudged your knee, tilting her head as she studied you. “So, how does it feel? Knowing it’s your last one with us?”

You exhaled, shifting slightly on the table. “Honestly? It feels amazing.”

It wasn’t a lie.

For months, you’d been waiting for this moment, for the weight to lift, for the next chapter to begin. Real Madrid. The dream. The goal you’d worked toward since you were a student.

But now, with Elise looking at you like that, something in your chest tightened.

She smiled, though there was something softer in her expression. “We’re really proud of you, you know. You started here as an intern, and now you’re heading to Madrid.”

You huffed a small laugh. “I know.”

“I mean it,” she pressed. “I watched you grow here. You worked your ass off for this.” She paused, twirling a roll of tape between her fingers. “You and Kylian, though… it’s crazy. Same dream, different paths. You two have been joined at the hip these past few years.”

Your stomach twisted.

Elise smiled softly. “And I’m glad you guys finally sorted out your issues and became friends. It was getting exhausting watching you at each other’s throats all the time.”

Your fingers stilled against the old tape you’d been peeling from your hand.

Friends.

You forced a chuckle. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Elise had no idea. No one did.

No one knew that the sorting out had happened in empty treatment rooms, behind locked doors, with breathless whispers and bitten-off moans. That the tension hadn’t disappeared, it had only changed shape, molded into something neither of you were bold enough to name.

Elise nudged your shoulder playfully. “Think he’ll miss you?”

Your stomach twists.

You kept your face neutral, refusing to let the question sink in. Instead, you turned to Marco, smirking. “Are you guys going to miss me?”

Elise snorted. “Nice deflection.”

Marco stretched out on the bench, arms behind his head. “I mean, Elise will cry about it. I’ll just enjoy finally being the favorite physio.”

Elise rolled her eyes. “In your dreams.”

You laughed, letting their banter carry you, pretending that Elise’s question hadn’t left a lingering tightness in your chest.

Across the room, Marco flopped onto the bench, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “So, Madrid, huh?” He smirked. “You know, if you weren’t running off, you could’ve had Elise’s job when she retires.”

Elise scoffed, tossing a roll of bandages at him. “Excuse me? I have at least another five years.”

Marco caught the bandage, grinning. “Uh-huh.”

You laughed, the sound easing the tightness in your chest. This was the part you would miss, the easy banter, the way the job never felt as overwhelming when you were with them. Your stomach twisted at the thought of who would be your friends at your new job.

Elise shot Marco a glare before turning back to you. “Speaking of, we’re all going out tonight.”

You blinked. “We are?”

“Leavers’ drinks,” she confirmed.

Marco grinned. “You didn’t think we’d let you slip away quietly, did you?”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to go, but because for the first time, the reality of it all was sinking in.

This is it.

Your last night. Your last time in the facility. Your last time being part of this team.

You swallowed, pushing past the sudden tightness in your throat. “Alright,” you said, forcing a grin. “One last night.”

Elise clapped her hands together. “That’s the spirit.”

Marco leaned back, arms crossed. “We’re getting you drunk enough to forget PSG ever existed.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “I won’t argue with that.”

Elise beamed. “Good. We’re meeting at that bar near Saint-Germain at nine.”

You nodded, letting their excitement carry you. Letting yourself believe, just for a moment, that tonight was only a celebration. That there wasn’t something - or someone - lingering in the back of your mind.

But then your gaze flickered across the training facility, skimming over familiar faces.

And when your eyes landed on him, something shifted.

Kylian.

Standing near the ice baths, his back to the wall, he should be talking to the other guys. Instead he was watching you.

And just like that, the weight in your chest pressed down harder.

Players milled about the training facility, laughing and catching up without the usual tension of upcoming matches hanging over them. It felt like the first real breath after months of holding it in.

You stood near the gym, talking with Achraf, the two of you caught in easy conversation. The familiarity of it was nice, something steady in the middle of all the change.

Then, without warning, a familiar warmth pressed against your back.

Strong arms looped around your waist, the weight of them solid, effortless. Kylian.

“Bonjour.” He whispered in your ear.

You barely had time to react before his chin dropped onto your shoulder, his voice close to your ear. “What are we talking about?”

Achraf smirked, arms crossing. “Not you.”

Kylian scoffed, his hold on you tightening playfully. “Doubt it. What could you possibly talk about if it’s not me?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped. “He was actually saying he’s glad this season is done. Says he won’t have to deal with me anymore.”

Achraf nodded solemnly. “It’s true. We’re finally free.”

Kylian hummed, chin still resting against you. “Yeah? Then why does it feel like I’m the one getting abandoned?”

Your breath hitched.

Achraf grinned, shaking his head. “Man, how are you two gonna survive the summer without each other?”

Kylian didn’t hesitate. “I was gonna ask if she wants to come with us.”

Your brows furrowed as you turned slightly. “Come where?”

“Brice, Achraf, and I are planning a trip,” he said. “You should come.”

You forced a laugh, shifting slightly in his hold. “You want me to third-wheel your little bromance holiday?”

Achraf smirked. “You’d be fourth-wheeling.”

You blinked. “Brice is third-wheeling?”

Kylian grinned. “Exactly.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could answer, you felt the slight flex of Kylian’s hands against your stomach before they slid away completely. Kylian’s fingers brushed the collar of your shirt, straightening it out with an absent touch. Then, he reached up, pushing lightly at a loose curl that had escaped from your bun back into place.

The teasing gesture was soft, thoughtless, like muscle memory. Something he’s done a hundred times before.

You swallowed against the warmth curling in your stomach.

Then, his voice came, quieter now. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Achraf let out a dramatic sigh as Kylian’s hands settled firmly on your waist. “Man, you’re not even subtle about it.”

Kylian shot him a pointed look, his fingers pressing slightly against your waist. “You’re talking too much, Achraf.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Achraf muttered, shaking his head. “Go have your private conversation. But if I see you two making heart eyes at each other when you get back, I swear to God-“

Kylian didn’t let him finish. His grip on you tightened slightly, steering you away, and just before you turned the corner, you heard Achraf call after you with a grin in his voice.

“Remember who’s your favourite y/n!”

Kylian barely acknowledged him, his grip steady, possessive. “We’ll be back.”

Kylian’s pace didn’t slow, but you felt his fingers flex slightly against you, as if to remind you exactly whose attention you should be giving right now.

You bit back a smile.

“You say that like you’re giving me a choice,” you muttered, though you didn’t resist when he started guiding you away.

The second you were out of sight, he exhaled, voice lower now. “I was getting tired of sharing. Let’s go in that corner, chérie,” he murmured, his voice low, just for you.

Before you could protest, he steered you forward, his chest brushing against your shoulders as he guided you toward the quieter part of the room. His grip was light but commanding, like it was second nature, like he knew exactly how to move you.

Your pulse kicked up, but you kept your expression neutral, refusing to acknowledge the way your stomach twisted at the easy intimacy of it.

When he finally slowed to a stop, his hands lingered for a beat longer before sliding away, leaving behind a warmth you hated to miss.

Kylian turned you to face him, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he said, stopping just a breath away.

You kept your posture relaxed, forcing an easy expression. “Mbappé.”

He grinned, eyes filled with amusement. “So formal. What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

You opened your mouth, but before you could answer, Elise’s voice rang out from behind you.

“She’s coming out with us,” she said, grinning. “Leavers’ drinks.”

Kylian’s gaze didn’t shift. His expression didn’t change. But you caught it, the slight tensing of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed against his sides.

“Right, so you’re busy.” he said simply.

You thought that was it. That he would let it go.

But then-

“And tomorrow?”

Your stomach flipped.

Tomorrow.

Your throat went dry as you scrambled for an answer. You had planned to finish packing, to prepare for the flight he still didn’t know you were taking.

“Busy again,” you said, too quickly.

Kylian tilted his head slightly. “With what?”

Your pulse kicked up. You hated how well he knew you, how easily he could tell when you were avoiding something.

“I just- ” You shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I have things to do.”

For a moment, he said nothing. Just looked at you, gaze unwavering, assessing. Then-

“Come over to my place.”

The words weren’t a suggestion.

You blinked, momentarily thrown. “What?”

“Come over,” he repeated, quieter this time. “For dinner.”

Your chest tightened.

Not a hotel. Not in an empty room. Not meeting in the shadows of your usual routine.

His home.

Your stomach twisted. “Why?”

Kylian’s eyes softened, his usual teasing nowhere to be found. “Because I want to see you. I want to spend time with you.”

Something lodged itself in your throat. You searched his expression, waiting for the smirk, the playful glint in his eyes. But it never came.

“Kylian,” you started, voice quieter now. “We don’t-”

“We don’t what?” he interrupted gently. “Eat together? Spend time together?”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his words press against you.

“We don’t do personal,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Kylian exhaled, his gaze never leaving yours. “Maybe we should. First time for everything, right?”

Your breath hitched.

It wasn’t just the words. It was him. The way he was looking at you - earnest, open, leaving nothing between you but the truth.

You swallowed. “Since when do you care about that?”

Kylian’s lips parted like he wanted to say something, but then he just shook his head, almost like he was exasperated. “Since always,” he admitted, voice steady, like he wasn’t afraid of what it meant to say it aloud.

Your fingers curled into your palms. You should say no. You should remind him that this wasn’t how things worked, that you weren’t meant to cross this line. You should say no, that you were leaving for Madrid, a conversation you didn’t know how to have.

But instead, you found yourself nodding. “Okay.”

He let out an exhale, something eased in his shoulders. He nodded, stepping back. “Okay, tomorrow at eight.”

You didn’t answer, only watching as he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding and your mind screaming at you to tell him the truth, tell him you’re leaving, before it was too late.

The suitcase lay open on your bed, half-filled with the last remnants of your life in Paris.

Clothes neatly folded, toiletries packed away, your favorite mug wrapped in a hoodie to keep it from breaking. Everything was nearly done.

And yet, your hands trembled.

You stared at the open suitcase, the weight of what you were about to do pressing against your ribs. You should tell him. He deserved to know. After everything, after years of pushing and pulling, of straddling the line between something and nothing, you liked him enough to tell him.

Your throat tightened.

But how?

How were you supposed to look Kylian in the eyes and tell him you were leaving without making it worse? Without breaking whatever this was between you?

Your heart thumped painfully in your chest, panic creeping in-

Then your gaze flickered to your phone.

Dinner.

You exhaled sharply. You had completely forgotten about it. And you had no idea what to wear.

Without thinking, you unlocked your phone and typed out a message.

You: Just wondering… what are we doing tonight? What do I wear?

The response came almost instantly.

Kylian: Nothing.

You rolled your eyes, your lips betraying you with a small smile.

You: Be serious.

Kylian: I am. I think you’d look best in nothing, chérie.

Your stomach twisted.

You: You’re not funny.

Kylian: You’re smiling though.

You bit your lip, refusing to acknowledge how right he was.

You: So?

Kylian: I like making you smile.

There was a pause before your phone buzzed again.

Kylian: Wear something comfortable. You don’t have to try with me.

Your fingers hesitated over the screen.

Wear something comfortable.

It was such a simple thing, but it made your heart ache. Because it was him. Because Kylian never needed anything extravagant from you, never asked for more than what you could give. The past few years, he accepted you in all your entirety. You had seen each other at your worst, completely raw and unfiltered. Because those words alone reminded you of all the things you felt but were throwing away.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to type out a response.

You: Okay.

You tossed your phone onto the bed, exhaling sharply.

You were spiralling. The invitation sat in your head like an unanswered question.

Kylian had asked so casually, like it was nothing, like it was just dinner. But you know better. You’ve spent months pretending this arrangement is simple, drawing invisible lines and swearing you’d never cross them. And now, just a night before you’re set to leave, he’s breaking the only rule that kept you safe.

You should have said no. You should have laughed it off, made an excuse, anything. But you didn’t. Instead, you agreed too quickly, a quiet okay slipping out before you could stop yourself.

Now, standing in front of your closet, you feel like you’re unraveling.

Comfortable.

It should’ve been easy. A simple outfit, nothing to overthink. But when you stepped in front of your open wardrobe, your mind went blank.

You wanted to look good. Really good.

Not for any particular reason, of course. It wasn’t like tonight meant anything. It wasn’t like Kylian asking you to come over changed anything. You were still leaving, still boarding that flight, still walking away from him.

Still-

Your fingers skimmed over your clothes, pulling out a top before shaking your head and putting it back. Jeans? Too uncomfortable. A dress? Too much. You wanted to look effortless. As if you hadn’t thought about it at all. As if you weren’t standing in front of your wardrobe stressing about what to wear for a man who shouldn’t even matter this much.

Your heart pounded. You were doing it again, spiraling.

You needed to breathe.

Tearing your gaze from your reflection in the mirror, you turned toward your suitcase, shuffling through the neatly packed clothes. Maybe something in there-

Your hand froze.

A hoodie.

Not just any hoodie. His hoodie.

The same one he had thrown over your shoulders on a cold night months ago, when you had stubbornly refused to admit you were freezing. Just wear it, chérie, he had said, rolling his eyes before draping it over you. Stop being difficult.

Your chest tightened as you picked it up, bringing it close.

It still smelled like him. That familiar mix of cologne, something warm and clean and pure him.

You should’ve returned it ages ago. And yet, here it was, buried in your things, the last piece of him you had taken without meaning to.

Your fingers curled around the fabric as something heavy settled in your stomach.

You could give it back tonight. Leave it behind along with everything else. Make a clean break, like you always meant to.

You swallowed hard, pressing the hoodie to your chest.

You decide to put on a plain black top and put it on, something you’ve worn a hundred times, but now it feels too intentional, too much like you don’t want to try too hard. You grab his hoodie instead again, then shake your head and toss it aside. It was too obvious. It’s just dinner, but, but it’s not just dinner.

This is different. You know it.

You sink onto the edge of your bed, gripping the fabric between your hands. Should you just cancel?

The thought makes your stomach twist. You could text him, say something came up, pretend you forgot-

But then what?

Would he be mad? No, probably not. He’d brush it off, act like it didn’t matter. Like you don’t matter.

And that’s worse. That’s so much worse.

Your phone feels heavy in your hands as you stare at his last message. His the car is waiting text waiting at the bottom of the screen. You imagine yourself typing something - Actually, I can’t tonight - but your fingers don’t move.

Because you want to go.

That’s the real problem.

You want to go, and you hate yourself for it. He didn’t deserve that.

Because if you walk into his apartment tonight, you’ll make another memory with him, one that will be impossible to forget. And you can’t afford that to lose that. You were being utterly selfish and he had no idea.

But still, you stand up. Grab your phone send on my way. Grab your bag. Grab the hoodie. Force yourself out the door before you can change your mind.

Because you were already too far gone.

The city rushes past in streaks of gold and navy, the warm glow of streetlights blurring through the car window. You sit stiffly in the backseat of the car, hands clasped in your lap, the air too thick, too still. Every few seconds, you glance at your reflection in the glass, at the quiet tension in your face, the way your shoulders won’t relax.

You need to tell him.

That’s what you decide somewhere between your apartment and the first turn onto the main road. You’re going to tell Kylian that you’re leaving. It’s the right thing to do. You’ll sit down, let him talk, maybe let yourself enjoy dinner for a while, and then you’ll say it. I’m leaving. I got a job in Madrid. Just like that. Simple.

Except, it’s not simple at all.

Your stomach twists as you picture the conversation.

What if he asks about your summer?

You could lie, keep things vague, say you’re just going home for a bit, that you haven’t figured out your plans yet. But Kylian knows you too well. He’d press, the way he always does, teasing at first but serious underneath. And then what?

What if he asks about next season?

You swallow hard.

That’s worse. That’s direct. You wouldn’t be able to avoid it, wouldn’t be able to shrug it off like it doesn’t matter. Because it does matter - to him and to you.

Your fingers tighten around the fabric of the hoodie.

What if he says something that makes you want to stay?

The thought slams into you, sharp and breath-stealing.

You don’t let yourself consider it often, but now, in the quiet hum of the car, it creeps in. Because if Kylian knew, if he realised you were planning to leave, if he looked at you with that unbearable sincerity in his eyes and asked you not to go-

Would you stay?

The question makes your stomach drop.

Because you think you might. You think you’d let him convince you, let yourself believe that staying would be the right thing to do. You think you’d want him to convince you. You think about his voice, low and certain, telling you he wants more. About his hands on your waist, grounding you. About all the unspoken things between you, waiting to tip over the edge.

The car slows at a red light, and you stare straight ahead, breathing through the pressure in your chest.

You can’t let that happen.

That’s the real reason you never told him. Because Kylian Mbappé has always been your greatest weakness, and if he asks you to stay, you’re not sure you’ll be strong enough to say no.

The car pulls up to Kylian’s building, its sleek façade rising high against the deep blue of the evening sky. You exhale slowly, pressing a hand against your stomach as if that will ease the nervous energy swirling inside you. The decision settles in your chest, heavy but resolute - you’re not going to tell him tonight.

Not because it isn’t important. Not because it won’t change everything.

But because this, this evening, this invitation, is everything.

Kylian has never asked you to his home before. You never asked him to yours either. Never crossed that boundary. You don’t do personal things. No one-to-one dinners, no lazy mornings brushing your teeth together, no soft moments outside of dimly lit rooms where clothes are hurriedly shed and hands search for something unspoken.

But tonight is different.

Your steps are quiet against the smooth marble as you step inside the lobby. It’s sleek and understated, all clean lines and muted lighting. A concierge nods politely as you pass, as though he was expecting you, his suit crisp, his demeanor professional. The air smells expensive, tinged with faint traces of polished wood and fresh linen.

You swallow. This isn’t just a building. It’s his building. His world. And he’s letting you in.

As you step into the elevator, you press the button with a steadying breath. The doors glide shut, enclosing you in silence. You force yourself to stand tall, to unclench your hands. Forget about Madrid. Just for tonight.

Because tonight isn’t about goodbyes.

It’s about this moment, about the rules you thought you’d never break and the lines Kylian is asking you to cross.

You glance at your reflection in the mirrored walls, lips slightly parted, eyes sharper than they should be for something that’s meant to be casual. The numbers on the display climb higher, bringing you closer to the unknown.

And then the doors open.

His hallway is dim, warm lighting casting soft shadows along the walls. You walk forward, each step measured, each second stretching as your pulse quickens.

Then you knock.

And suddenly, your mind is racing again.

What if this changes everything?

What if you don’t want it to change?

What if-

The door swings open.

And then - nothing.

Because Kylian is standing there, filling the doorway, eyes dark and steady as they take you in. He looks good. Unfairly good. Casual, but intentional.

And just like that, your thoughts quiet.

He looks at you like he’s been expecting this moment for longer than you have.

“You’re late,” he teases.

You scoff lightly, stepping inside when he moves back to let you in. “I’m late because it takes half n hour to get to this floor.”

He laughs at that, closing the door behind you. You let your eyes take in the space around you.

Kylian’s apartment is nothing like you imagined. You expected something cold, modern - bare walls and lifeless furniture, the kind of home that belonged to someone always on the move, never settling long enough to make a place feel like theirs.

But it’s warm. Lived in. Not cluttered, but personal.

Soft lighting casts golden shadows against deep, earth-toned walls. The sleek design of the furniture is softened by subtle signs of comfort, a book left open on the coffee table, a blanket draped carelessly over the arm of the sofa, a half-empty bottle of water on the counter. There’s a faint trace of cologne in the air, something rich and familiar, woven into the very fabric of the space.

And then there’s the view. Floor-to-ceiling windows open up to the city below, Paris stretching out in glittering lights. You don’t realise you’re staring until Kylian moves behind you.

“Nice, isn’t it?” His voice is lower now, more serious. “I like looking out after a game. Helps me think.”

You nod, unable to stop yourself from imagining him standing here alone, staring out over the city, lost in his own world.

Kylian’s presence is warm behind you, his voice quieter now, like he’s letting you in on something personal.

“It’s… not what I expected.”

He hums, placing his hands on your waist, his breath just grazing the shell of your ear. “And what did you expect?”

You shrug, trying to play it off, but you can feel him watching you. “Something less… you.”

That makes him chuckle. “You thought I lived in a hotel room, didn’t you?”

You turn, meeting his eyes. “A little.”

Kylian laughs softly but doesn’t argue. Instead, his gaze flickers down, catching on the folded hoodie in your arms. His smile fades, something softer settling in its place.

You shift, suddenly unsure. “I, um- I brought this to give back.” You hold it out between you, an awkward offering. “I forgot to give it back.”

For a second, Kylian doesn’t move. He just looks at you, then at the hoodie, then back up again, something unreadable in his expression.

And then, instead of taking it, he shakes his head. “I gave it to you to keep.”

Your stomach twists. “Oh.”

There’s something charged in the space between you, something neither of you is willing to name.

“Why?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Kylian watches you, something knowing in his gaze. Then, slowly, he steps forward, closing the distance. “Don’t you think about me when you put it on?”

Your lips part, but no words come out.

Because you do.

You have. More times than you care to admit.

The fabric smells like him, even now. It always has. Even after so many washes, even after months of telling yourself it was just a hoodie. Just something comfortable to sleep in.

Kylian must see the answer on your face because his smile returns, but it’s softer this time, tinged with something fonder. He takes the hoodie from your hands, and for a second, you think he’s finally going to accept it back.

But instead, he unfolds it and steps closer.

“Arms up,” he murmurs.

You blink. “What?”

He tilts his head, expression expectant. “Arms up.”

Hesitantly, you lift your arms, and Kylian slides the hoodie over your head, his movements slow, deliberate. The fabric pools around your shoulders, warm and familiar. His fingers graze your skin as he adjusts the hem, smoothing it down over your sides. He then grabs your hair pulling it out of the hoodie. Warmth filling in your chest.

When you finally meet his gaze, there’s something undeniably tender in the way he looks at you.

“You took your time getting here,” he murmurs, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Thought you were gonna stand me up.”

You scoff lightly, trying to ignore the way your chest tightens. “I had to mentally prepare for whatever this is.”

He laughs at that, reaching up to pull the hood over your head, his fingers brushing your jaw. “And what is this?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Because you don’t know how to tell him that this is something you can’t afford to want.

“Come on,” Kylian says, nudging your arm lightly. “I cooked.”

“You cooked?” You raise a brow, following him toward the kitchen.

“Don’t look so surprised.” He grins, already pulling plates from the cabinet. “I had to impress you somehow.”

Your stomach twists. Impress you. He’s putting in effort. He’s treating tonight like it means something.

And that makes your chest ache.

Because it does mean something. Just not in the way he thinks.

You glance down at the plate he sets in front of you - a homemade pizza, golden crust, bubbling cheese, and the exact toppings you always order.

“You made pizza?” you say, surprised.

“You mentioned once it’s your favorite,” he shrugs, like it’s nothing. Like it wasn’t something he filed away in his mind for this moment.

“You could’ve just ordered it,” you tease, picking up a slice.

Kylian smirks, leaning in just slightly, voice dropping into something smoother. “You also mentioned you like a man who puts effort in.”

Your breath catches for a second. The memory is hazy, some passing comment from months ago, made in the middle of an argument, maybe. You never thought he was listening.

Kylian watches your reaction closely, waiting for you to admit he got to you. You force yourself to shake your head, rolling your eyes. “You really think this is all it takes to impress me?”

He leans in further, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “No, you’re difficult” he murmurs. “But it’s a good start.”

Your face burns as he pulls back, looking far too pleased with himself. You take a bite of the pizza to distract yourself, but his eyes don’t leave you, watching, waiting.

“It’s good,” you admit reluctantly.

“You love it,” he corrects smugly, reaching for his own slice. “You’re trying not to give me the satisfaction, but I can see it in your face.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

“You adore me,” he counters easily.

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch against your will. He’s impossible. And the worst part? He knows you adore him, even if you refuse to say it.

The night flows easily, laughter spilling between you like it always has. Kylian is close, always touching, his foot nudging yours under the table, his fingers brushing against your wrist when he reaches for something, the occasional press of his lips to your temple when you pretend not to notice.

You let it happen. You let yourself have this.

“So,” he says, after a comfortable lull in conversation. “What are you doing for the break?”

Your body tenses before you can stop it.

Madrid. You’ll be in Madrid. Staying in Madrid.

But you can’t tell him that.

You force yourself to shrug, keeping your tone casual. “No plans yet.”

Kylian hums, studying you like he can sense something off, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Come with me, then.”

Your heart stutters. “What?”

“Spend the summer with me,” he says simply, like it’s not a big deal. Like he’s not asking for everything. “We can go somewhere. Just us.”

You swallow, keeping your expression even. “Where?”

“I don’t know,” he grins. “Where do you wanna go?”

Your brain scrambles for an answer. The idea of it, spending weeks wrapped up in him, away from everything else, is dizzying. Tempting. Dangerous.

You should say no. You have to say no. Tell him the truth.

But instead, you tease, “Somewhere warm.”

Kylian perks up immediately, his enthusiasm clear. “Greece?”

“Too crowded,” you counter, playing along like this conversation isn’t fake.

“Maldives.”

“Too boring.”

“South of France?”

You pause, considering. “Could be nice.”

His smile softens. “It would be nice.”

The weight of what you’re doing presses down on you, but Kylian doesn’t know that. To him, this is real. To him, you’re making plans.

And you want to believe in them. You want to close your eyes and picture yourself on a beach with him, stretched out under the sun, tangled in each other.

But it’s not real. It never will be.

You let the moment sit between you, let Kylian believe in the fantasy just a little longer.

“You know,” Kylian says, leaning back in his chair, “I actually have a place in the south of France.”

You blink. “You do?”

He grins. “Mmhmm. Private, quiet, right by the beach.”

You can already picture it, the sea breeze, golden sun, the sound of waves crashing against the shore. Him by your side. It’s dangerous how easily you can imagine yourself there with him.

“Bad wifi, though,” he adds, shaking his head like it’s a tragic loss.

You scrunch your nose. “No wifi? What would we even do?”

Kylian’s grin is slow, teasing, as he moves his chair closer to you.

By the time you realize what he’s doing, he’s already at your side, fingers trailing along your arm before tilting your chin up. His lips brush the corner of your jaw, moving to the sensitive skin just beneath your ear.

“I’m sure we can think of a few ideas,” he murmurs, voice smooth, warm, and intentional.

Your breath catches, but you play it off with a scoff, pushing lightly at his chest. “You’re insufferable.”

His lips curve against your skin, whispering “You love me.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs. You let his words settle into your skin. You roll your eyes, but you don’t move away. And he doesn’t stop kissing you, his lips brushing along your jaw, down to your neck, slow and lingering, like he’s savoring the moment.

Like he wants you to remember this.

Later, after the food is gone and the wine bottle is nearly empty, the conversation shifts into something softer.

“I might visit England,” you say, twirling the stem of your glass between your fingers. “Go home for a little bit.”

Kylian hums, watching you intently. “You don’t talk about home much.”

You shrug. “It’s complicated.”

He tilts his head, waiting, letting you decide how much to share.

You exhale, fingers tracing the rim of your glass. “You know my parents are immigrants. I was born in England, but I grew up… in between. Always feeling a little too much of one thing, not enough of the other.”

Kylian leans forward, brows furrowing slightly. “Yeah. I get that.”

You glance up, meeting his gaze. His expression is open, understanding. Of course he gets it, he’s lived it too.

“I just… I don’t go back as often as I should,” you admit, voice quieter now. “Life gets busy, and sometimes it’s easier not to.”

“I left for Paris as soon as I could,” you admit, voice quieter now. “University felt like an excuse, but really… I just wanted to be somewhere else. Somewhere new.”

His eyes soften. “You wanted to run.”

You huff a quiet laugh, taking a sip of wine. “Yeah.”

He studies you, his gaze lingering. “And now?”

You don’t answer right away. You could tell him the truth, that leaving has always felt easier than staying, that it’s a habit you’ve never quite broken. That even now, sitting here with him, there’s a part of you already bracing for the moment you’ll have to go.

Instead, you offer a small smile. “Now, I just want to enjoy tonight.”

Kylian studies you for a moment, then asks, “Do they know about me?”

You hesitate. “Of course.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Could I meet them?”

Your stomach clenches. The question is casual, but the weight of it is not.

Meeting your parents. That’s not something you do with someone temporary. That’s something real.

And yet…

You nod. “Yeah. I think they’d like you.”

Kylian’s smile grows, bright and boyish, like this means everything to him. Like it’s real.

And for tonight, you let him believe it is. But deep down, a voice whispers that you’re lying to both of you. You always leave before things get too real. You always run.

And this time… you already know you won’t stay.

Then, suddenly, he’s moving, standing up next to you. Your breath stills as he’s tugging your chair back just enough to turn you toward him. He leans down, and you don’t stop him.

His lips brush against yours, soft and unhurried. A question, not a demand.

You let yourself sink into it. His hands find your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, holding you there like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

By the time you and Kylian move to the sofa, the mood has settled into something easy, familiar, like this is something you’ve always done. Like it’s something you’ll keep doing.

He throws an arm over the back of the sofa, fingers idly playing with the corkscrew of your hair as he scrolls through movies. “You’re impossible to please,” he mutters when you turn down yet another option.

You smirk, shifting to press your back against his side. “You know I have standards.”

Kylian huffs a laugh, eyes still on the screen. “You sure you don’t just like being difficult?”

You grin, stealing the remote from his hands. “Only for you.”

His fingers tighten around your hip in retaliation, a firm squeeze that makes warmth bloom in your stomach.

Eventually, you settle on something simple, a comfort movie, the kind that plays softly in the background of a quiet night. Kylian wraps his arm around you, letting you lean into him, his body warm and solid beside you.

It hits you then, hard, this moment. The normalcy of it.

Coming home after a long day. Cooking together. Teasing each other. Curling up on the sofa with a movie, legs tangled, fingers lazily trailing along each other’s skin.

It’s the kind of thing couples do. The kind of thing you could have had.

And for a second, you let yourself want it.

Kylian’s voice breaks through your thoughts. “So, England?”

You blink, looking up at him. “What?”

“You said you might visit,” he prompts, his thumb brushing along your shoulder. “Your parents still there?”

You nod. “Yeah. They know about us, by the way.”

His brows lift in mild surprise. “Oh?”

You smile a little. “Not like this. Just… that I work with you. They’ve heard my complaints.”

He lets out a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Bet they loved those.”

You hesitate, then admit, “They actually love you.”

Kylian shifts slightly, giving you his full attention. “Yeah?”

You nod, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his thigh. “You’re disciplined, smart, charming.” Your lips twitch. “They tell me I should marry you.”

Kylian’s grip on your waist tightens just a little. “Smart parents.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest doesn’t fade.

Kylian hums, his fingers trailing up your arm. “My parents are dying to meet you, you know.”

Your stomach flips. “Really?”

He nods. “I talk about you a lot.” His voice is softer now, more careful. “Maman especially. She keeps saying she wants to meet the one person who can handle me.”

Your heart stumbles over itself. You know what he’s doing, he’s letting you see the future he wants. One where you’re in it.

And maybe it’s the wine, or the warmth of his body, or the way his fingers trail soothingly along your skin, but you let yourself see it too.

For tonight, you let yourself believe.

Kylian shifts slightly, pulling you in closer. His fingers trail idly up and down your arm, slow and soothing, grounding you in the warmth of his touch. The movie is still playing in the background, but neither of you are paying attention anymore.

“They’d love to see me get married,” you say suddenly, your voice softer now. “Husband, kids, the whole thing.”

Kylian hums, resting his chin lightly atop your head. “That a bad thing?”

You exhale a quiet laugh. “No. Just… they have it all planned out in their heads. Big family, grandkids running around. There’s pressure.”

His fingers pause for just a second before he resumes the slow, steady movement against your skin. “And what do you want?”

You tilt your head back slightly to look at him, a teasing smile forming on your lips. “Well, I’m for one, are grateful for your money, because we’re going to have a really nice retirement home.”

Kylian scoffs, nudging your side. “We?”

You grin. “Obviously. Someone has to make sure you don’t get too grumpy when you’re old.”

He shakes his head, laughing, but there’s something softer in his gaze when he looks at you. “I’m never grumpy. You really think I’d be grumpy?”

“Oh, definitely,” you tease. “Complaining about the neighbors being too loud. Yelling at kids to stay off your lawn. You’re using up your fun side now, later on there’s going to be nothing left”

Kylian laughs, he leans in, pressing a slow kiss to your jaw. “And you?”

You shiver slightly under his touch but keep your tone light. “I’ll be charming, obviously. The favorite grandma. The one who sneaks the grandkids extra sweets when their parents aren’t looking.”

Kylian laughs against your skin. “You’re so wrong.”

You let the words settle for a moment before shifting, turning slightly so you can look at him fully. “What about you? Ever think about kids?”

His smile softens. “Yeah. Always figured I’d have a family one day.”

You hum. “What do you think they’d be like?”

Kylian tilts his head, considering. “If they take after me? Active. Stubborn. Probably too competitive for their own good.”

You laugh. “Great. A little army of Kylian juniors running around. Sounds like a nightmare.”

He smirks. “You could handle them. And if they take after you?”

You purse your lips in thought. “Smart. Focused. Knows how to handle pressure.”

Kylian snorts, “why is your ego as big as mine?”

“Good at arguing,” You continue, grinning. “Definitely a little dramatic.”

“Oh, for sure,” Kylian says, grinning. “Our kids are going to be so dramatic.”

Our kids.

The words make your stomach twist, but you force yourself to keep playing along.

Kylian’s voice softens. “You’d be a great mom.”

Your breath catches slightly, but you keep your expression neutral. “And you’d be a great dad.”

He smiles, his fingers wrapping around yours. “We’d be good together.”

You can’t answer that. So instead, you lean up and kiss him, slow and soft, letting him believe, just for tonight.

Kylian shifts above you, his weight settling over yours in a way that feels natural, like he belongs there. His head rests against your chest, and you force yourself to keep your breathing steady, even as his hands trace slow, absentminded circles over the curve of your ass. It’s casual, intimate in a way that makes your stomach twist.

He’s comfortable like this, pressed into you, his fingers moving lazily against your skin. Every so often, he shifts just enough to kiss you, soft, lingering presses of his lips that make your chest tighten. You kiss him back without thinking, letting yourself fall into the illusion of this moment, of him.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, lips brushing over your collarbone. His voice is teasing, but there’s something else beneath it, something softer, more certain.

You scoff lightly, fingers gently scratching his neck. “You’re so full of yourself.”

He just grins against your skin, his fingers flexing against your ass before smoothing over the fabric of your leggings. “You haven’t let go of me all night,” he points out, his voice low, amused.

Your stomach flips. You couldn’t let go. Not when it's your last night.

“This is nice,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your collarbone. “You and me like this.”

You hum, fingers moving to gently scratch his scalp. The movement relaxing you. He lets out a quiet sigh, his entire body relaxing into yours. You want to tell him not to get used to this, to remind him that tonight is just a moment, not a promise. You had to tell him before the night carries on.

You had to try. You try to coax him in. “You used to talk about Madrid all the time.”

Kylian shifts slightly, lifting his head just enough to look at you. His hands squeeze your ass gently. “And you used to talk about your masters.”

You still.

He notices.

Kylian watches you closely now, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines along your waist. “You thinking about it?” His lips ghost over your skin again, each word a little softer, a little closer. “Taking the next step?”

It’s a casual question. Harmless. But it feels like a landmine waiting to go off.

You swallow. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Kylian hums against your skin, his nose nudging the curve of your neck as his hands tighten on your hips. “And Madrid?”

Your fingers hesitate in his hair.

“You still thinking about it?” he murmurs, pressing another soft kiss to your jaw.

Your chest tightens. He doesn’t realize what he’s asking. He thinks you’re reflecting on old dreams, on the things you used to talk about together. But you know better.

Because you are thinking about masters in Madrid. Your plane was leaving tomorrow.

You take a breath, steadying yourself. “I don’t know.”

Kylian lifts his head fully now, propping himself up on his elbows, his face just inches from yours. His gaze is steady, open in a way that makes you want to turn away. His hands slide up beneath your hoodie - his hoodie - his palms warm against your bare skin.

“I’ve been thinking about staying,” he admits.

Your stomach drops.

“For the club?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

He shakes his head. “No. Not for the club.” His fingers tighten on your waist, like he’s trying to ground himself. Like he’s afraid to say it outright.

“I’m not ready to leave yet.”

You feel like you can’t breathe.

He’s watching you too closely now, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles against your ribs. You know he can feel your heart racing. You know he notices the way your breath stutters.

“Paris is home,” he continues, voice quieter now. His forehead presses against yours, both lips just shy of touching. “It’s not just about football anymore. There’s something here worth staying for.”

And then, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, he says it.

“I want to be with you, y/n.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest.

You were prepared for a lot of things tonight, but not this.

Not him looking at you like this. Not him holding you like he’s afraid to let go. Not him saying the one thing you’ve wanted to hear for so long, at the worst possible time.

You feel like you’re about to break. You need to tell him the truth.

But instead of responding, you crush your lips against his, desperate, aching, reckless. Anything to stop yourself from saying something you’ll regret.

Kylian takes this as an answer. He exhales against your lips, something soft, relief. You didn’t even notice the tension in his shoulders before he relaxed. He smiles, kissing you deeper, whispering, “Thought you’d never admit it.”

The weight of it all nearly crushes you, but you let yourself melt into the kiss, pretending - just for tonight - that it’s real.

The air gets heavier, so you try to lighten it, desperate to change the topic. You shift slightly beneath him, sighing dramatically. “You’re clingy, you know that?”

Kylian hums against your skin, clearly unbothered. “Mm, and?”

“And,” you tease, poking at his side, “we’re not even watching the movie.

He chuckles, lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes. “Right, because I’m the one who keeps kissing you.”

You roll your eyes, about to fire back, but he cuts you off with another kiss, lazy, drawn out, his lips brushing yours in a way that makes you forget whatever point you were going to make.

Eventually, you both settle in, but Kylian stays close, his body half-draped over yours, his fingers slipping beneath the hoodie just to feel your skin. His touch is absentminded, lazy strokes against your ribs, his thumb brushing over the dip of your waist like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

The movie plays, but neither of you are really paying attention.

After a long pause, Kylian speaks again, voice quieter now. “My dad still asks about you.”

You hesitate, not expecting that. “He does?”

Kylian nods. “Yeah. He likes you.” His fingers press a little deeper into your skin. “Thinks you’re pretty.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Good to know I have his approval.”

Kylian smirks, tilting his head slightly so his lips brush the edge of your jaw. “He also thinks you’re funny.”

Your brows lift. “Really?”

He grins, amused at your surprise. “Yeah. You talked to him after I missed that game with my calf, remember?”

You do. His dad had been worried, and you’d reassured him that Kylian would be fine, joking that he was too stubborn to be out for long.

Kylian hums. “Apparently, he still brings it up. ‘That physio of yours has a smart mouth.’” His smirk widens. “He meant it as a compliment.”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling. “I’ll take it.”

Kylian presses a slow, lingering kiss beneath your ear. “I think he just likes that you care about me.”

The weight of his words settles between you, heavy and unspoken.

You exhale, forcing yourself to keep your voice light. “Well, someone has to.”

Kylian chuckles, but his hold on you tightens, like he doesn’t want you to slip away.

Kylian stays close, his fingers idly tracing patterns beneath your hoodie - his hoodie, you correct yourself. The movie plays in the background, but neither of you are paying attention. His warmth seeps into your skin, his presence wrapping around you like a comfort you know you shouldn’t get used to.

“If we’re going to England and the South of France for summer,” he murmurs, voice soft, like the future is already set, “where shall we go for Christmas?”

You hesitate for only a second before letting yourself dream. “I’ve always wanted to go to the Alps. I really want to go skiing.”

Kylian huffs a quiet laugh, shifting slightly. “You do realize I can’t ski, right?”

“You can ski,” you tease. “You’re just not allowed to. PSG rules. And I’m not taking care of you if you injure yourself.”

He grins, squeezing your waist. “Then we shouldn’t go.”

“What?” You pull back slightly to look at him.

“I want to go somewhere hot,” he says, casual and lazy, like it’s already decided. “Somewhere with a beach.”

You scoff. “That’s a summer holiday.”

“So?”

“So, Christmas in the snow is a must.”

Kylian’s fingers skim along your stomach, his grip lazy but warm. “So, convince me,” he says, amusement laced in his voice. “What’s so special about Christmas in the snow?”

You roll your eyes. “You seriously don’t get it?”

He shakes his head, watching you expectantly.

You exhale, settling deeper against him. “It’s… magical,” you start, eyes flickering toward the ceiling as you picture it. “Twinkling lights glowing against the snow, cozy cabins with fireplaces, the quiet beauty of the mountains at night.”

Kylian hums, his fingers stilling against your skin. “Go on.”

You shift to look at him. “Waking up to a snowy Christmas morning, the kind I always imagined but never really got to experience properly in the UK.” You smile softly, lost in the thought. “Drinking hot chocolate after being out in the cold all day, watching the snowfall from inside, curled up under a blanket. It just feels… right.”

Kylian doesn’t respond immediately. His usual teasing smirk is gone, replaced by something softer. His eyes stay locked on yours, full of something unreadable, something deep, something warm.

“Okay,” he murmurs eventually, pressing a lazy kiss to your collarbone. “Whatever you want.”

The way he says it, so effortlessly, so certain, makes your breath catch.

Your fingers tighten slightly against his arm. “That easy?”

His lips quirk. “If it makes you happy, yeah.” His voice dips lower, more sincere. “That’s all I want.”

Your heart squeezes.

His gaze holds yours, intense and earnest. “Whatever it takes. Whatever you need. I want to see you happy, always.”

You freeze for a second, the weight of his words hitting you hard in the chest. You bite your lip, trying to brush it off with a soft laugh. “You make me miserable at work sometimes,” you joke lightly, trying to avoid the tension building in the pit of your stomach.

Kylian huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, but you love it.” He nudges his nose against your jaw, kissing the corner of your lips. “And we both know that’s not really true.”

Your smile falters. He’s right. You do love it. You love the way he pushes you, the way he challenges you. You love the way he always finds a way to get under your skin, never letting you pull away completely. You love the teasing, the back-and-forth, the way he never lets you win too easily. And maybe, if things were different, if you weren’t already halfway out the door, you’d let yourself admit just how much he truly means to you.

The thought nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

You shouldn’t be thinking like this. Not when you’re about to leave. Not when you’ve already decided.

Kylian watches you closely, picking up on the shift in your expression. His hands smooth over your back beneath his hoodie. “Hey,” he murmurs, coaxing you back to the moment. “Talk to me.”

You force a smile, blinking back the burn behind your eyes. “I’m just thinking,” you say, voice softer than before.

“About what?”

You shake your head, pushing up to kiss him before he can pry any further. He lets you, his lips moving slowly against yours, but when you pull back, his eyes are still searching. Still looking for something you’re not ready to give him.

He doesn’t press. He just holds you closer, his arms tightening around you. He moves his fingers towards your back. His touch is lazy at first, skimming up and down your spine, tracing slow circles that lull you into a comfortable haze. The glow of the TV flickers across the room, casting soft light over both of you, but neither of you are paying attention anymore.

“You’re quiet,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple.

You hum in response, sinking further into his embrace, but his grip tightens just slightly, like he’s not letting you drift away from him so easily.

“Talk to me,” he coaxes, voice dipping lower, smoother.

You hesitate, then force a small smile. “I’m just thinking.”

Kylian tilts his head, watching you closely, searching. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your hoodie, skating across your bare skin, dragging slow patterns along your lower back. “About what?”

You shake your head, forcing the tears to stay put. The weight of the moment, of being here in his space, his home, presses down on you. It makes it all feel too real, too heavy, like you’re on the edge of something irreversible.

Instead of answering, you push up slightly, kissing him before he can pry further. He lets you, lets you press your lips to his in a slow, languid kiss, lets you sink into him, but when you pull back, his eyes are still on you. Still looking for something you’re not ready to give him.

His fingers flex at your waist, kneading gently. “I know you, bébé,” he murmurs, voice quiet but firm. “I know you completely. Something’s on your mind, tell me.”

You exhale, brushing your nose against his. “I don’t want to think right now.”

A slow smile tugs at his lips. “No?”

You shake your head, tugging at the hem of his hoodie. “Help me stop thinking.”

His gaze darkens, his smile fading into something softer, something fonder. He shifts beneath you, pressing up, letting you feel the hard length of him through his sweats.

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

His hands slip under the hem of your hoodie, pushing the fabric higher, exposing more of your skin. His palms drag along your sides, thumbs grazing just beneath the swell of your breasts, teasing but never fully touching.

You inhale sharply, arching into his touch. “Kylian-”

He flips you before you can finish, pressing you back into the couch cushions, his body settling over yours. His lips find your throat, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His breath is warm, his stubble scraping lightly as he works his way lower, taking his time, savoring you.

“Tu es si belle,” he murmurs against your collarbone. “Toujours.”

Your fingers slide around his neck, tugging lightly. “Kylian-”

“Shhh,” he soothes, lips brushing the swell of your breast. His hands slip beneath the fabric of your hoodie, pushing it higher until you lift your arms, letting him tug it over your head. The cool air rushes over your bare skin, but his warmth is quick to replace it, his mouth closing over one nipple, his tongue circling slow and deliberate.

A gasp escapes your lips, your back arching as he sucks lightly, teasing with his teeth before soothing with his tongue. His free hand slides down, fingertips tracing the waistband of your leggings, dipping just beneath but never quite where you need him.

“You’re always so impatient,” he murmurs against your skin, smiling against your breast.

You huff, tugging at his hair in frustration. “Then stop teasing.”

Kylian chuckles, but he listens, sliding lower, pressing lingering kisses down your stomach, over your navel, down to the waistband of your shorts. He tugs them down slowly, dragging them past your thighs, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your legs.

The air in his apartment feels heavy, thick with something unspoken. The dim lighting casts long shadows against the sleek furniture, the dark walls, the framed jerseys that make this space his. It smells like him, cologne, clean linen, something deeper that lingers on his skin.

It unsettles you. It makes it impossible to forget where you are, what this is.

By the time he settles between your thighs, your breath is uneven, your fingers trembling slightly where they run in his curls. He presses a final kiss against the inside of your knee before looking up at you, eyes dark and full of something unreadable.

“Relax,” he murmurs, hands gripping your thighs, pushing them further apart. “Just let yourself feel.”

Before you can respond, he dips down, his mouth meeting your soaked heat in one slow, deliberate stroke.

Your gasp is sharp, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He hums against you, like he’s savoring the taste, before licking another slow stripe up your slit, his tongue circling your clit in teasing, languid strokes. His grip on your thighs tightens, keeping you open for him as he works you up, building the pressure inside you with every flick of his tongue.

“Kylian,” you whimper, hips lifting instinctively.

His hands press down, pinning you in place. “I’ve got you,” he soothes, before sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue in perfect rhythm.

Your body tenses, heat curling low in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter with every calculated stroke of his tongue. He’s slow, thorough, completely focused on unraveling you, like nothing else in the world exists except this, except you.

When his fingers slip inside you, curling just right, a broken moan escapes your lips, your head tipping back.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against you, pressing another kiss to your thigh. “Let go for me.”

You do.

Pleasure washes over you in slow, rolling waves, your body trembling as he coaxes you through it, never letting up, his mouth and fingers working in perfect sync until you’re gasping, shaking, barely able to breathe.

Only then does he finally lift his head, lips glistening, a pleased smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Tu es magnifique,” he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses up your stomach, your ribs, your throat. “Every fucking inch of you.”

Your pulse is still racing when he presses his forehead against yours, his hands framing your face.

“Are you still with me?” he asks softly, searching your gaze.

You nod, still breathless. “Yeah.”

Kylian kisses you, slow and deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His hands slide down, gripping your thighs, shifting you beneath him.

The weight of being here in his home, his space, llingers between you. It should feel wrong. It should feel like a mistake. But when he lifts you, carrying you to his bedroom, pressing you into his sheets, it only feels inevitable.

“Je t’—” he starts, voice rough, raw.

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “Don’t.”

His jaw tightens, something flickering behind his eyes. But he doesn’t push. Instead, he presses his lips to your throat, his body covering yours, grounding you in this moment, in this choice.

He pushes into you slowly, filling you inch by inch, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your fingers dig into his back, your body stretching to take him.

Kylian groans, burying his face in your neck. “Fuck, baby.” His voice is thick, unsteady. “You feel so good.”

He holds himself still for a moment, letting you adjust, letting you feel every inch of him. His lips press against your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

Then he moves.

Slow, deep thrusts, his hips rolling into yours in a steady rhythm, dragging pleasure through every nerve in your body. His hands grip your thighs, holding you close, like he never wants to let go.

“I want you,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “All of you.”

Your breath hitches.

And maybe, if things were different, you’d let him say what he was going to. Maybe you’d say it back.

But tonight, you let your body speak for you.

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him deeper, closer.

The warmth of his breath fans across your skin as Kylian presses his forehead to yours, rolling his hips into you with slow, deliberate strokes. Each thrust sends pleasure rippling through your body, winding you tighter and tighter around him.

He feels so good, deep and thick and perfect, stretching you open in the most intoxicating way. His fingers grip your hips, anchoring you to him, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“Bébé,” he murmurs, voice rough, ragged with need. “You feel so fucking good.”

You moan in response, arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him even closer. His body presses against yours, heat radiating between you, his heart pounding just as wildly as your own.

“Kylian,” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re- God, you’re perfect.”

A groan rumbles in his throat, his pace stuttering just slightly, like your words have knocked the air out of him. His hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that make your back arch off the bed.

“Say it again,” he demands, his lips brushing against your jaw.

You gasp as pleasure curls low in your stomach, a fire burning hotter and hotter with each roll of his hips.

“You’re perfect,” you murmur, fingers dragging through his hair. “I love the way you touch me, I love the way you make me feel.”

His breath hitches, his thrusts turning deeper, more deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch of you. “Bébé…”

Your nails rake down his back, urging him on. “I love the way you always know what I need, I love the way you always make me feel so good.”

His lips claim yours in a deep, searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he pushes you closer to the edge. His tongue slides against yours, his breath mingling with yours, his body moving in perfect rhythm with yours.

“I need you,” you admit, your voice breaking, tears threatening to fall. “I need you so much.”

Kylian groans, his forehead pressing against yours, his hands gripping your thighs as he buries himself even deeper inside you. “You have me,” he promises. “Always.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your walls fluttering around him, pulling him in tighter. He grits his teeth, his control slipping, his pace turning rougher, more desperate.

“You’re mine,” he mutters, his breath hot against your lips. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp, your body trembling, every nerve ending sparking with pleasure. “I’m yours, Kylian.”

His groan is guttural, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you with him as he thrusts harder, deeper. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard tapping softly against the wall, the sounds of your bodies moving together filling the space around you.

Your climax builds, the pressure coiling so tight it feels unbearable. Kylian feels it too, the way your body clenches around him, the way your breath catches, the way your moans grow higher, needier.

“Come for me,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your temple, his fingers still circling your clit, sending sparks shooting up your spine. “Let me feel you.”

His name tumbles from your lips as you shatter beneath him, pleasure crashing over you in a blinding wave. Your body clenches, trembles, your nails digging into his back as he follows right after you, groaning as he spills deep inside you.

For a moment, neither of you move, bodies tangled, chests heaving, the world spinning around you. Kylian presses a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your jaw, his hands smoothing over your sides, grounding you.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice softer now, tender.

You nod, still breathless, still tingling from the aftershocks. “Yeah.”

His fingers trace slow patterns along your back, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re so beautiful.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his jaw, warmth blooming in your chest.

Maybe you’ll regret this in the morning. Maybe you’ll wake up and remember why you can’t have this, why you can’t stay.

But tonight, you let yourself believe in the fantasy.

Tonight, you let yourself have him.

The room is quiet now, save for the sound of your breaths mingling, the slow rise and fall of your chests pressed together. Kylian hasn’t moved from where he’s nestled against you, his arms wrapped securely around your waist, his nose tucked into the crook of your neck. His body is warm, solid, grounding you in a way that makes your chest tighten.

You can still feel him inside you, his release seeping from between your thighs, a lingering reminder of just how deeply you let him in tonight. And for once, the weight of that doesn’t send you spiraling. It doesn’t terrify you.

Instead, you just feel… full. Complete. Like you’re exactly where you should be.

Kylian shifts slightly, tilting his head to press a kiss to your temple. “You’re quiet again,” he murmurs, voice rough with exhaustion, yet laced with something softer, something fonder.

You hum, tracing absent patterns along his back. “Just thinking.”

His arms tighten around you, his fingers splaying across your lower back. “About what?”

You hesitate, biting your lip. Then, before you can stop yourself, you admit the truth.

“You.”

Kylian stills, his breath catching. Then he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and searching, like he’s trying to memorize this moment, etch it into his bones.

“What about me?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

Your fingers brush over his jaw, your thumb grazing his bottom lip. “How much you mean to me,” you whisper. “How much i-” You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. “How much I feel when I’m with you.”

Something flickers in his gaze, something raw and vulnerable. He exhales slowly, his forehead pressing against yours. “You don’t have to be scared of that,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours. “Of us.”

Your eyes flutter shut, your fingers curling against his skin. “I don’t know how not to be.”

Kylian exhales a quiet laugh, but there’s no amusement in it, just understanding. He kisses you softly, lingering, savoring. “Then I’ll show you,” he promises against your lips. “I’ll show you every day.”

Your heart stumbles.

You don’t know if you can let yourself believe that. But right now, in the safety of his arms, with his breath warm against your skin and his body wrapped around yours, you want to.

You tuck your head beneath his chin, pressing your face into his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, soothing in a way that makes your limbs grow heavy.

Kylian sighs contentedly, his fingers stroking your back in slow, lazy circles. “Stay with me,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

You know he doesn’t just mean for the night.

But for now, you let yourself pretend.

“Okay,” you whisper, your eyes drifting shut, your body melting against his.

Kylian hums, his arms tightening around you, his lips pressing one last kiss to your hair.

And then, for the first time in a long time, you let yourself fall asleep feeling safe.

The room is silent except for the steady rhythm of Kylian’s breathing. His warmth surrounds you, his arm draped loosely over your waist, fingers curled slightly against your stomach, as if even in sleep, he doesn’t want to let you go.

You don’t move at first.

You just lay there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against your back, listening to the sound of his breath. Memorising the way it feels to be held by him.

Because this is the last time.

The thought grips you like a vice, making your throat tighten.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to hold onto the moment, but the pressure in your chest only grows. This night, the way he touched you, the way he whispered to you between kisses, the way he looked at you like you were his entire world, it made it all too real.

And now, you have to leave it behind.

Your fingers curl into the sheets. You know you should move, should slip out of his grasp before you lose the nerve, but you can’t. Not yet.

You shift slightly, just enough to turn your head, to look at him.

Kylian sleeps soundly, his features softened, the tension he always carries in his brow smoothed away. His lips are parted slightly, his hair mussed from your fingers, his bare shoulder rising and falling with each breath.

Your chest aches.

A part of you wants to stay. Wants to forget everything outside this moment.

But you can’t.

Carefully, slowly, you begin to move, slipping out from under his arm inch by inch, holding your breath when he stirs. His fingers twitch against the sheets, searching for you even in sleep.

You freeze.

For a second, you think he’s going to wake up, that he’ll see you standing there, that he’ll say your name and ruin everything.

But then he exhales deeply and stills.

You swallow hard, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, forcing yourself to stand. The cool air hits your bare skin, making you shiver as you grab your top and leggings from the floor, pulling them on with shaking hands.

His hoodie is draped over the armrest of the couch, but you don’t move toward it yet.

Instead, your eyes drift to the shelf by the window, where a collection of framed photos sits. You didn’t want to really stop to look at them before, you were careful not to let yourself linger too much in his space, too much in his world.

But now, something catches your eye.

A photo, slightly smaller than the others.

You step closer before you can stop yourself, your breath catching when you realize what it is.

It’s Kylian, years younger, maybe eight or nine. His face is rounder, his smile bright and full of unrestrained joy. He’s holding a football in his arms, but it’s his shirt that makes your stomach twist.

A Real Madrid jersey.

Your vision blurs, your fingers tightening at your sides.

Of course.

This was always meant to happen, wasn’t it?

You stare at the photo, at the boy in the Madrid shirt, and suddenly, everything becomes clear.

No matter how much he loves Paris, no matter how much he loves PSG, this was always the path he was meant to take.

And maybe, maybe leaving him now is part of that path, too.

Maybe he’ll hate you for it.

Maybe he’ll never forgive you.

But one day, he’ll be in Madrid. One day, he’ll have everything he’s ever dreamed of.

And maybe you can be together properly.

Your breath shudders as you turn away, grabbing his hoodie from the couch. For a second, you consider taking it. Some small part of you, some foolish, selfish part, wants to cling to it, to hold on to something of his.

But you can’t.

You can’t leave with a piece of him when you’ve already taken so much.

You hesitate for just a second, just long enough to let your fingers graze the soft fabric, before you drop it.

It lands on the cushions, the only proof you were ever here at all.

Your vision swims as you turn back toward the door, your chest aching with a pain so deep it feels unbearable.

You don’t look back.

If you do, you’ll break.

So instead, you walk away.

You block his number before you even step out of the apartment.

And then, with a deep, shaking breath, you step into the night.

Present day

Kylian doesn’t let go of your wrist until you’re both alone outside the gym. Even then, he doesn’t step back. Doesn’t create space. Just stands there, gaze burning into yours like he’s still deciding what to say.

You take a breath, steadying yourself. Be calm. Be rational.

“You can’t just drag me out of there,” you say, keeping your voice even.

Kylian exhales sharply through his nose, like he’s trying to keep himself in check. “So, that’s it?” he says finally. “You really want to play this game?”

Your brows furrow. “What game?”

His jaw clenches. His hands twitch like he wants to run them over his face, but he doesn’t. He just looks at you. Really looks at you.

Like he’s trying to find something. Like he needs to.

“You, acting like that,” he says, voice taut. “Saying things just to get a reaction. Pretending none of this-” His voice cuts off, sharp with frustration.

You cross your arms. “I wasn’t pretending anything.”

Kylian scoffs, shaking his head. “Right. Because it’s normal for you to sit there talking about taking some random guy home.”

You bristle. “It was a joke, Kylian.”

His gaze sharpens. “Was it?”

You exhale, patience thinning. “You don’t get to do this,” you say, voice firmer now. “You don’t get to be upset with me. We agreed-”

Kylian lets out a bitter laugh. “No, you decided,” he corrects. “You decided we should be friends the moment you ran off. You decided to leave me behind. You decided to move on like it was nothing. And now you’re- what? Testing me?”

His voice is lower now, frustration simmering beneath every word.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Because he’s right. And he knows it.

Then, something snaps in Kylian.

The feeling that’s been building between you both isn’t just some playful tension anymore, it’s something deeper, something he can’t ignore.

A memory hits him like a gut punch.

“You’re lying, I know something is wrong” Kylian had murmured against your skin that night, voice rough, unreadable. His fingers traced your wrist, slow and careful,

You swallowed, forcing a small, tired smile. “I don’t lie.”

Kylian hummed, unconvinced. He shifted closer, breath warm against your temple.

“Then promise me something.”

“What?”

“That you won’t leave me.”

Your breath had caught in your throat.

And for a second, you almost told the truth.

But then Kylian’s hand slid over your back, slow, familiar. And you panicked.

So, you lied.

“I won’t.”

Kylian blinks, breath coming sharp.

The memory slams into him, clear as day. And suddenly, everything clicks.

This isn’t just about the joke. It’s you. This is what you do.

When things get too close - when he gets too close - you push. You act out. You find a way to run.

And he let you do it once. Let you lie to him. Let you run away.

Not this time. Not again.

Kylian shakes his head, stepping closer. “I changed my mind.”

You blink. “About what?”

“Being your friend.” His voice is steady, sure. “I don’t want that.”

Something in your chest tightens. “Kylian-”

He exhales, slow, like he’s finally seeing things clearly. “I get it now.” His voice is softer, but not weaker. If anything, it’s stronger. Final. “You get too close, and then you run.”

You stiffen.

His gaze never wavers. “You ran away from me once,” he says quietly, his tone low, deliberate.

Your breath catches.

Kylian doesn’t move. Doesn’t let you slip away.

His gaze stays locked onto yours, steady and unshaken. Final.

“I’m not letting you do that again,” he says, voice low.

Your breath catches. He’s watching you like he’s waiting for the fight, like he’s daring you to say something back.

But before you can, the gym doors swing open.

“Y/N!”

Luis’s voice cuts through the air, firm and expectant. You snap your head toward him, pulse still racing.

“We need you back inside,” he says, eyes flicking between you and Kylian, something unreadable in his expression.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I’m coming.”

When you turn back to Kylian, he’s still watching you. Unwavering. Like he knows this conversation isn’t over.

Like he won’t let it be over.

You hold his gaze for a second longer, heart pounding, then you step past him and walk back inside.

But even as you go, you can feel it.

Kylian isn’t done. And neither are you.

Chapter 9

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