#yeah like just a little lost on what people enjoy in the story and what i should gut/cut down on i guess

[charmac]

PLEASEE POST A NEW CHAPTER OF THE SUGAR DADDY FIC I AM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES 😭😭😭😭😭

Updating All These Nights tonight and then Sugar is next to be updated, promise promise.

[eden031]

Sweet boy

Pairing: Jack Abbot x single mom! resident!reader

Warnings: Age gap (unspecified), reader‘s son plays soccer, reader feels like a bad mom, fluff mostly, implied that the kid is a matchmaker

Summary: When her son is having a rough patch, she asks her attending to come to his games, just as a temporary arrangement, of course. Though sometimes something temporary becomes normal.

Words: 4.5 k

A/N: Hey there, so this is what was voted for and I really like the way it turned out! It it rather light hearted and I really like the way it turned out. Though a quick disclaimer at this point, I have no idea what it is really like to be a single mom or a mom in genreal so please be kind in that regard. Also I might write a second part for this where reader finds out she is pregnant with Jack‘s baby and the ‚aftermath‘ of that, not sure about that though :) I still hope you enjoy this little story :D

Leaning against the nurses’ station she closed her eyes, the worry in her gut not getting better as the night wore on. It was his first sleepover and she was not happy about it, she had been reluctant about it anyways, but she knew the mother well, knew the father well and knew that there would only be three kids in total. It was safe and she knew that nothing bad could happen to him, she had slept over a ton as a kid and nothing ever happened. Still, since she had dropped him off at his best friend‘s house before she had gone to her shift the bad feeling her stomach didn‘t go away.

“You doing okay?” The voice of her attending pulled her out of her musings, he was standing closer than she had expected as she opened her eyes, feeling a slight heat rush to her face. His expression mildly worried, his salt and pepper curls slightly mussed. His stethoscope was wrapped around his neck and underneath it she could see the chain around it as well.

“Not really…” she sighed, rubbing her head, lying to him would get her nowhere, he was able to read her like an open book. “You know when you have a gut feeling that you really can’t shake?” she glanced at him with a small smile. He snorted slightly, nodding as he looked at her again. Not moving he still continued to stare at her, it was that kind of expectant stare he sometimes gave patients when they left out parts of the story they were telling.

“Yeah, definitely,” he crossed his arms across his chest, the thick forearms resting across each other. Sometimes she felt like a teenager when he was close to her, like she would start swooning after him like a lost puppy. Shaking her head slightly she tried to get that out of her head, hell he was her attending and in her eyes way out of her league.

“My son is sleeping over at a friend’s place tonight for the first time, can’t seem to shake the feeling that something terrible might happen,” she shuddered slightly as she shook her head. She knew that Abbot would probably have some wise words for her, he always did. „I sound like some kind of helicopter mom, don‘t I?“ she asked, laughing slightly as she looked at him.

„Nah,“ he shook his head, „We see shit in here people can‘t even dream of in their worst nightmares,“ he shrugged, „I think it‘s normal to be worried. And he is your first after all,“ A small smile was on his lips as he leaned against the counter.

„How did his match go, anyway?“ Abbot asked. She was slightly startled at the question, she had mentioned that her son had insisted on playing soccer this season and he had had his first match in the afternoon.

„It went well,“ she smiled, she had luckily been able to be there and cheer for him. „His team won and he put in the last goal, getting them out of the draw,“ a proud smile on her lips as she told that to Abbot. It had felt like she was watching her son in slow motion, running on his little legs with the ball in front of him, then one strong kick and he had scored the goal.

„Looks like you got a future star on your hands,“ Abbot smiled slightly as she laughed at that.

„If the love for it lasts longer than one season I actually might,“ she smiled at Abbot, trying to hide the sadness in her smile. Even if her son had played incredibly well he had still cried after the game, right after the kids had been allowed to go see their parents. All the dads had been so supportive the entire time, the mums as well, but that had not triggered her son‘s crying. It had been a conversation that they had been having for what felt like ages, on and off, even if her son was only seven, he understood the concept of not having a father or even father figure rather well. Especially since all his friends had really great and involved fathers. She knew that he was happy and that he loved her, it had alway only been them together, but apparently he was currently in a stage in life where he just wanted someone else besides her.

A sniffle left her as she realised the thought had made her cry again. Sometimes, well a lot of times, she felt like a bad mom. Due to the fact that most of her friends were either from work or her son‘s friends‘ mothers she did not know that many other single mothers. She had no advice on how to deal with these emotions and it made her feel so horrible.

„Hey, hey,“ he gently touched her shoulder, the concern in his features evident as he gently touched her shoulder.

„Gosh, sorry,“ she wiped away the tears, trying to stop the tears from falling again. A groan escaped her as she sniffled again. Suddenly her phone started buzzing in her pocket, fear shot through her as she grabbed it, holding up her hand to Abbot, her tears going dry right away as she saw the name of Josh‘s best friend‘s mother on the screen.

„Hey, is everything alright?“ she asked with panic in her voice. She knew she needed to calm down, panic wouldn‘t get her anywhere.

„Hey, yes, sorry if I am calling at a bad time.“ the voice sounded exhausted as she heard shuffling in the background.

“No! It‘s okay, I have some time on my hands right now,“ she shot Abbot an apologetic glance, though he still looked concerned at her, his hand still on her shoulder.

„Okay, I just wanted to tell you that the three of them devoured four pizzas and were knocked out afterwards, they are all sleeping right now and it looks like they are not going to get up until like at least ten tomorrow,“ Lara sounded exhausted, but she let out a sigh of relief.

„Thanks for letting me know.“ she paused. There was another pause on the other side of the line.

„Sorry, I didn‘t mean to keep you from work, have a good shift.“ Lara sounded exhausted, they quickly said their goodbyes and she hung up, letting her head fall backwards.

„Everything alright?“ he looked so concerned as he looked at her while she shoved her phone back into her pocket.

„Yeah,“ she let out a relieved laugh as she shook her head. „She just called to let me know that they are sleeping like stones and everything is alright.“

He let out a relieved sigh as well, like he had been just as worried as the phone had gone off. It made her smile slightly, Abbot had met her son a few times already, it had always been during cookouts organized by someone, mostly by either Dana or Langdon. Her son had loved Abbot from the moment her attending had introduced himself to her son. Josh became attached to Abbot like a tick the moment he spotted him in a crowd of one of the cookouts. Always dragging her mentor along to everything he wanted to do and for some reason unbeknownst to her, Abbot just let him and did his best to satisfy the whims of her son.

The thing was, that had made her crush on her attending even worse, seeing the way he treated her son made her heart swell every single time she saw them interact. Probably the worst part of it all was that she knew that this was no silly little crush anymore.

„Thank god,“ he breathed out, his head falling backwards as well. Suddenly something came to her mind, but before she could even propose the idea to Abbot Bridgit called out that a trauma was incoming.

——————

Shift change had gone smoother than usual and she was finally on her way out of the building, hoping to be able to shower before she had to pick up Josh. As she stood by the lockers she thought about the idea she had had again. Maybe it was stupid, and maybe she would overstep if she did really ask that of Abbot, but she just wanted to know if maybe there was a chance for it.

Seeing Abbot also coming her way she fished everything out of the locker, stepped back and waited for him to approach her. Usually he never used the lockers, his backpack already slung over his shoulder.

„Mind if we have a little chat before you leave?“ he asked, his brow raised in her direction.

„Not at all, I actually wanted to talk to you about something as well.“ she gave him a small smile as they began making their way towards the exit. She knew that Jack always walked, he said that it cleared his head, though she knew that he theoretically could drive.

„Are you sure you are doing okay? You know that you can talk to me if something is bothering you,“ his voice was so gentle as they stepped out of the hospital. She sighed, the crying had definitely prompted that conversation.

“Yeah, no, I know I am not doing the best,“ she answered honestly, „It‘s about Josh,“ another sigh and as she glanced to the side she could see the concerned expression of her attending.

„Is he sick?“ he asked, of course that was the first thing that came to mind, not the quick kind of sick, the occasional flu, but she knew that he meant sick. The kind of sick that could tear people apart.

„No!“ she shook her head, „He is just having a bit of a rough patch,“ she paused, cringing internally as they continued to walk towards employee parking, „He has been asking more and more about why his dad isn‘t there and why he can‘t have an awesome dad like his other friends,“ she paused, „Makes me feel like a terrible parent,“ she shuddered.

Abbot stopped walking, she also did, following his him to the side of the sidewalk. His expression was stern, but still friendly.

„You know you are not a bad mom, right?“ he paused, „That kid loves you more than anything in the world.“ Carefully he put his hands on her shoulders, gently squeezing them.

„I know,“ she tried to look away, but it felt impossible to draw away from these intense eyes. „I just…sometimes I wish I could give him that role model he so desperately wants…“ she sighed, rubbing her face. This was the point where she decided to just go with it and ask, „That was actually why I wanted to talk to you,“ she sighed again, Abbot looked surprised as she said that.

„I know that this is probably very unprofessional and also overstepping boundaries, but god, Josh loves you, always talks about you and every time there is a cookout he gets so excited.“ she paused gauging the expression on Abbot‘s face, it startled her when he looked slightly flustered, „But would you mind coming to the games with me? I know that you probably have a lot of stuff to do and more things to worry about, but-„

„I would love to,“ he paused, a small smile on his lips as he gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. It felt like the breath was knocked out of her lungs as she saw that sparkle in his eyes, for a moment she wasn‘t sure if it was just the light or if she could actually see tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

„I would love to come,“ he repeated, again giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze, again „Just tell me when and where I have to be and I will be there,“ his voice was soft as he spoke. It made her want to cry, the way he smiled at her like she had just given him the best news of his life.

„Will do,“ she smiled at him, tears beginning to gather in her eyes as well, she hated it, knowing that loving this man was probably never going to get her anywhere.

———————

Sitting in the bleachers of the small school soccer field she sighed, glancing at her phone she checked to see if Abbot had texted her that he was running late. The kids were still doing warm ups and she had hoped that he would be there before the game would start. Glancing to the side she heard soft murmurs from some of the moms from the boys on her son‘s team, they were the kind of soccer mom‘s she really did not like. The ones that looked down on her for being a single mom, like it made her a bad person. Following their eyeline she grinned, Abbot was walking towards where she was sitting, in the lower ranks so that she could keep a close eye on the game the entire time. The sight in front of her made her a little light headed, Jack Abbot in casual clothes was something she had never hoped to see and here he was. A pair of loose fitted dark blue jeans, a tight fitted t-shirt paired with a fleece jacket without a hoodie. His backpack slung over his shoulder, as he walked over to her.

„Hey!“ she grinned at him, not sure how to greet him, though that question was answered when he gave her a quick hug.

„Hey,“ he said as well, taking a seat beside her, his legs spread slightly. Before she was able to say anything she heard one of the other mom‘s say something that made her a bit prickly.

„God, what a waste,“ Karen, the epitome of said name, half shouted while glaring in her direction.

„Thanks again for coming, Abbot,“ she gave him a small smile, he just nodded, a small smile also on his lips.

„Of course, and Jack will do for now,“ he smirked slightly as she felt her face heat up at the idea of calling him by his first name.

„Alright, no last names,“ she gave him a cheeky grin, then looked at the backpack, which had been safely deposited between his legs. Suppressing her laugh she glanced at him.

„What have you got in the bag?“ she asked, nodding at the backpack, Jack hummed softly, a huff escaping him.

„Wanna have a look?“ he asked, while his eyes found her backpack as well, „Mind if I get a peek at what you got?“ a small grin on her face they exchanged backpacks.

Looking into his backpack she found an array of medical supplies, Butterfly ultrasound, neckbrace, field trach kit, tourniquet, a stethoscope, a catheter for a chest tube, syringe and a lot more.

„Came prepared, let's just hope we don‘t need any of these,“ she laughed as she placed the backpack on the ground again.

„You too,“ he nodded with a small smile on his lips.

„Looks like we came with a whole ED on our back,“ she laughed, „Still just so you know there are medics here as well,“ she paused, glancing over at the two teenagers who were the medics for the teams, „I just don‘t trust them,“ she muttered under her breath.

Jack followed her line of sight and nodded slowly as he also saw the two teenagers sitting there, glued to their phones.

„I get that,“ he hummed softly, looking over his shoulder now, she followed his gaze this time she saw Karen staring at him, her husband, Larry, sitting cluelessly beside her. „What is her deal?“ he muttered as he leaned in closer to her, his breath fanning over the side of her face.

„Just getting the newest gossip ready,“ she sighed, a small smirk on her face as she watched Josh helping one of his teammates up from the ground after the kid had tripped.

„For the Soccer moms‘ whatsapp group?“ he asked, his voice laced with amusement. A snort left her lips as she shook her head.

„Worse, the soccer moms‘ facebook group,“ at that comment Jack let out a laugh, gently nudging her with his elbow. She grinned at him, shaking her head slightly. She thought that she could get used to this, to him being around more. It was nice, having someone around that she could talk with, someone that cared for Josh.

„JACK!“ Josh‘s tiny voice pulled her out of her thoughts as she saw him barreling towards her, though he did not launch himself at her, but rather at Jack, jumping into his arms. Jack easily caught Josh, holding him close for a moment, laughing softly as her son‘s tiny hands grabbed his jacket.

„Are you here for my game?“ Josh asked, his eyes big. She felt her heart lurch slightly at the sight. Jack holding Josh, who was now half sitting on his lap, a big grin on his tiny face.

„Yeah, little champ,“ he nodded. The coach called Josh‘s name and he let go of Jack again, not saying anything he bolted back to the team. A small smile grew on her lips as she watched the new spring in Josh‘s step. For a moment there was comfortable silence between them, their shoulders and legs brushing slightly as they watched the team huddled together. Lara and her husband weren‘t there, Tom, their son had caught the flu and was now sick, she was kind of the only mother she actually knew and liked from the team.

„So, any post game traditions?“ Jack asked while they watched the kids scattering over the field, taking their positions to start the game. A snort left her lips as she glanced over at him.

„It‘s only his second game, so no,“ she gave him a small grin as they leaned back slightly.

„What about I take you guys out for some pizza?“ he asked, the tone of his voice was different, it was like there was a subtle question behind it, like he was trying to figure out how far she would let him in.

„Pizza sounds great!“ she smiled at him, feeling her face heat up again as he gave her a quick smile. „But I am paying!“ she grinned at him.

„Let's argue about that when the time comes,“ he shook his head as the whistle for the start of the game blew.

The game was good, Josh‘s team getting another win, this time her little champ had scored the first goal of the match. She and Jack had cheered loudly and for the first time it felt like she could also cheer unapologetically. The look on Josh‘s face during half time had been unforgettable and would probably be burned in her mind forever, the pure joy of seeing her and Jack and how excitedly he had told them about his thoughts during the first goal.

Now the game was over and she and Josh were packing up his things, changing from his soccer shoes to his regular trainers. Josh was babbling about how cool the move of his teammate had been when he had avoided one of the opponents. Jack was standing beside her, a proud smile on his lips. Josh looked as his hands as she was beginning to collect all their stuff.

„Mommy,“ his voice was so soft that she was barely able to even hear him as she looked up, a smile on her face.

„Yeah sweetheart?“ she smiled at him, he looked nervous, glanced at Jack then back at her.

„Can we take a picture?“ he asked softly, looking at his hands like he was asking for some kind of dangerous thing.

“Of course, sweety,“ she smiled at him, gently ruffling his hair, „Do you want a picture with all of us or just you and Jack?“ she knew that they already had a picture of just him and her, so she just assumed that he wanted a picture with Jack.

„Can we do both?“ he asked, his eyes big as he looked at her with hopeful eyes.

„Of course, darling,“ she looked at Jack who looked like he was preening at the question, a small smile on her lips she ushered Josh towards Jack, who exchanged a few hushed whispers with each other. They posed together, Jack placing his hands on Josh‘s shoulders, a proud smile on his lips, an elated expression on Josh‘s. She smiled as she took the pictures.

“Do you want me to take the other one?“ the voice of the coach came from beside her as he gave her a small smile. He was already in his sixties and such a sweetheart.

„Please!“ she handed him her phone, giving him a thankful smile, quickly she moved up to Jack and Josh who both gave her a smile. Stepping behind Josh she also placed one hand on his shoulder, suddenly she felt an arm wrap itself around her waist, a surprised expression graced her face before she also wrapped her arm around his waist as well, both of them a hand on Josh‘s shoulder. The coach grinned slightly as he took a picture.

„You want your mom and I to pick you up?“ Jack asked Josh, who grinned excitedly and nodded quickly. Together they picked up her son, squeezing him between them, all of them laughing, another picture was taken.

That evening she had sent all of the pictures to Jack. Sitting on the sofa while Josh already slept she stared at the screen, the picture of Jack and her holding Josh stared back at her, that night she decided to change the picture of herself and Josh in her background to this one.

—————-

Sitting on her sofa she glanced over at Josh who was snoring softly between her and Jack, his little body snuggled between them. It was so domestic, so normal at this point that it made her want to cry.

Jack always came for the games, always cheered Josh on, always made sure that their little champion knew how well he was doing. Meanwhile he checked in on her, made sure she was also doing alright, offered her to take a few more days off during the months so that she could relax a little. At some point it became a tradition for Jack to come back to her place after a game and pizzas, they would often watch a movie, Josh usually falling asleep within the first half hour of the movie, though they still finished watching the movie, one of them would put him to bed. It was almost like they really were a family, except that they weren‘t, not like that at least.

The tension between them had heightened. At work sometimes it felt like they were really a couple, Jack bringing her coffee, her always making sure to bring an extra bag of food, knowing that Jack often forgot. During breaks she would ask if he needed anything from the grocery store while Jack offered to watch Josh when he had a night off when she didn‘t.

The end credits played as they continued to stare at the screen, she paused the movie, then turned off the TV.

„Do you wanna put him down?“ she asked, feeling how her arm had fallen asleep from Josh sleeping on it, hit head leaning against her upper arm.

„Yeah,“ Jack‘s voice was hoarse, glancing over at him she felt a pang in her heart, realising that he was crying. She had never really seen him cry before, never seen him that emotional. She didn‘t comment on it though, just gave him time to pick up Josh and carry him towards his bedroom. Quietly she followed him, making sure that Jack didn‘t realise. Stopping in the doorway she saw how Jack tucked in Josh, gently brushing some strands of hair out of his face.

„Huh,“ a shaky sigh escaped his lips, she wanted to say something, but she simply stood there and watched, „Sweet boy,“ his voice was so gentle, as he kneeled beside Josh‘s bed. „You know, I really should have believed you when you first told me I loved your mom,“ a soft laugh came from him. He rested his arm on the mattress of her son‘s bed. „Sleep well,“

She felt her heart hammering in her chest. Her chest tightened as she watched the moment between Jack and her sleeping son. Another sigh came from Jack, she took a small step back as he got up from where he had been kneeling, gently pressing a kiss to her son‘s forehead before he turned around. His eyes went wide as he saw her standing there, carefully she made room for him to walk out the room, closing the door behind him.

„I think I should be going, it‘s later than usual,“ he spoke softly as they faced each other in the hallway. The space felt crammed, with all the unsaid things between them. They surrounded them in this moment more than ever before, weighing them down, in a way pulling them together.

„Don‘t,“ she shook her head, feeling the weight that had been living in her chest since Jack had essentially become Josh‘s father figure. The weight of an unspoken truth neither of them really wanted to face, neither of them really wanted to acknowledge.

The air around them was charged, she reached out, trying to keep her hands from shaking, gently she took his. He intertwined their fingers, carefully pulling her closer to him. His free hand wrapped around her cheek, his thumb caressing her it. Moving closer he pressed his lips to hers, it felt like a current went through her body. Their lips moved against each other, wrapping her free arm around his neck she tried to pull him in even closer, to close the distance between them completely. There was a certain urgency in the kiss, they let go of each other‘s hands, his other hand went towards her waist, she wrapped her other arm around his neck as well. As they pulled away he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths intermingling.

His other hand had found her waist now, holding her close to him, the heat radiating off of him now even more comforting than when he looked over her shoulder in a trauma bay. She brushed her nose against his, pressing another soft kiss to his lips.

„Are you going to tell me why you cried?“ she asked, her voice a bit lighter as she spoke, her arms slowly encircling his waist now. A low groan came from him, then a soft huff.

„I always cry at the end of The Lion King,“ he said, his voice cracking slightly, his hold on her not relenting.

„You gotta be kidding me,“ she laughed as she tilted her head back slightly.

„I‘m not,“ he looked deadly serious, though a small smile was now visible on his features.

„I am definitely going to tell Ellis about that,“ she giggled slightly as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, placing soft kisses there.

„You are definitely not going to do that,“ he leaned his head back, letting out a small hum.

“Maybe, maybe not,“ she giggled softly as she leaned her head against his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of finally being in his arms.

[mintyys-blog]

Hello!!♥️ I really enjoyed all other invincible stories and writing for each mark i find em such a spot on. I was wondering if it would alright to request invincible (any mark) with reader having powers like Danny phantom? :0 i thought it could be cool idea in invincible world to have someoke with supernatural powers as in like ghost powers and stuff in way and would be useful when the power of possessing bodies comes in play and be helpful too? lol imagine reader spooking mark once a while ptff

MY BOO | mark grayson x danny phantom! reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS:

You’ve made it your life’s mission to scare the absolute hell out of Mark at least once a week. Whether it’s floating above his bed while he’s mid-sleep, your glowing eyes flickering in the dark like some demonic entity, or phasing through the wall with a blood-curdling whisper, it never gets old. The way he jumps, fists ready, eyes wide—it’s a masterpiece every time. And while he plays it off like he’s “used to it,” the haunted look in his eyes says otherwise.

There was one particular morning you phased through the ceiling right as he stepped out of the shower. He screamed and almost flew through the damn wall. “You can’t keep doing that!” he shouted, wrapping a towel around himself while still trying to act tough. You just floated upside down, smirking, saying, “If you didn’t look so cute when scared, maybe I’d stop.” He blushed. You called that a win.

When it comes to fighting, though, you’re a dream teammate. Mark’s all power and speed, but your ghost powers make you unpredictable. He flies in with brute force, and you phase through the ground, possess a villain’s body, and start using them as a puppet. Once, during a mission, you made a mercenary punch himself in the face so hard he knocked out cold. Mark stared, jaw slack. “Did you just—” “Yeah. Possessed him. Also made him twerk a little before I left. Hope that’s okay.” He couldn’t stop laughing… until you told him the next person you planned on possessing was him.

He didn’t take it seriously until one day you actually did. It was a light possession, nothing permanent—just enough to feel what flying felt like from his perspective. He freaked out the moment he felt his body moving without input. “Babe, this is NOT funny—oh my god why am I doing flips?! STOP DOING FLIPS.” You eventually let go and floated beside him, smug as hell. “So this is what it’s like to have pecs. Wild.”

You have a habit of turning invisible when you’re mad. Mid-argument, Mark would blink and realize you’ve vanished into thin air. “Seriously? You ghosted me? LITERALLY?” he’d yell, arms thrown up. You’d pop back in through the floor, say something dramatic like, “I rise from the dead… only to hear more of your bullshit,” and disappear again. It was infuriatingly effective.

Late nights were the worst for him. You’d wait until he’s half-asleep, then whisper his name like some haunted movie villain. “Maaaark…” and he’d jolt awake, looking around like he’s in a horror film. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack,” he mumbles, face buried in the pillow. “That’s the point,” you reply sweetly, curling up beside him.

Mark actually loves the deep parts of your powers too—the way you can feel shifts in the spiritual world, how your ghost sense picks up emotions, memories, and even lost souls. It’s not just creepy—it’s beautiful. You bring perspective to his strength, make him think about more than just punching the bad guy. He loves listening to you talk about the strange energy of being stuck between two worlds—living, but not completely. You once told him, “You were born to destroy planets. I was born already half-dead. We both carry things we didn’t ask for.” He kissed you so hard that night, holding you like you were the most real thing in the universe.

People definitely fear you more than him sometimes. You don’t just knock people out—you break them down psychologically, force them to confront guilt, possess their bodies and make them apologize to their teammates before walking off in your glowing form. Mark’s tried to act like the more intimidating one, but even he knows—when villains see you, they run.

He has a collection of ghost puns for you. “Boo-thang,” “my spooky girl,” “hauntie,” and even “Casper, but hot.” You pretend to hate it, but you secretly live for it.

And when he talks about the future, about maybe having a home or kids one day, he always says, “Would they be half-Viltrumite, half-ghost? Because that sounds terrifying, and I’m into it.” You grin, saying, “They’d be invisible until they want juice. Then they’d phase through the fridge.” Mark laughs but lowkey hopes it really happens.

You’re his chaos. His phantom menace. His mischievous, glowy-eyed, haunting little piece of home. And even if he never quite gets used to you floating through walls or making the TV talk back to him, he knows one thing for certain—life has never been more fun, more weird, or more perfect.

[aphel1on]

the longer i look at this panel the more deranged i feel about it. this is environmental storytelling at its finest.

the eodio stand-in doll in particular makes me crazy. where did it come from? did thistle just pop into the village like "hey ungrateful wretches, one of you needs to make me a life-sized mannequin, For Reasons". did he make it himself? seems quite unlikely, yet the possibility haunts me. i mean, i guess there could've been one just lying around the dungeon somewhere. it's the act of replacement itself that really gets to me. (edit: it's been pointed out to me that the eodio doll also could have been left behind as part of delgal's escape plan. slightly different kind of madness but tbh, just as funny-sad to me if that happened and thistle went Ok, Guess That's Eodio Now.)

both the wives are there too. we know very little about them, which makes me tend to assume thistle wasn't all that close to them, but they're still included. when did they end up here? did he kick their souls out of their bodies at some point, or were they among those who left their bodies voluntarily to try and escape? when did yaad become an effective orphan, delgal an effective widower? women in the margins of the narrative, tell me your stories!

and the fact that they're surrounded with the living paintings, which thistle habitually wanders through to relive the past. this truly is his inner sanctum, his place of utmost comfort... and it may as well be a tomb.

that panel is so creepy when you first see it. just a sense of "ohh jeez, there's a lot to unpack there".

and actually, yeah, it remains creepy from pretty much any angle, but the more you think about it the more it's also tragic.

this is where many of thistle's happiest moments took place. everything he had in that picture is now gone. first he lost their warm regard, then one-by-one their bodies became hollow shells. before the end, none of the people here needed or enjoyed food anymore. the dinner table, as a center of both family life and nutrition, became obsolete.

a line from someone else's excellent post about thistle has stuck in my head ever since i read it: "to eat is to live, but to eat together is to be loved". to me, this is the sentiment and symbolism at the core of everything that happens in dungeon meshi.

it makes this bit all the sadder and more disturbing.

there's several things to note here:

thistle has gone from seated and eating with them as part of the family, to a lonely and ominous figure hovering over delgal's shoulder

eodio is conspicuously absent from view, and his body would have been a husk by now, but yaad says parents, which forces me to assume that they are sitting at the table with eodio's soulless body, hidden under yaad's speech bubble

they're not actually eating anything.

those plates are empty. you could assume that they've already finished eating, maybe, but yaad refers to it as sitting around the dinner table. in fact, he compares it to what he's currently doing; sitting at the dinner table watching the touden party eat, not eating anything himself.

it paints a pretty grim picture. for some time even after the fantasy had fallen apart, even after there was no need or desire to eat, they kept gathering around the dinner table. at that point, i'd guess only so as not to provoke thistle's wrath.

but even that last happened a long, long time ago.

this is a callback to what senshi said in the golden kingdom: the reason the people keep maintaining their fields and silverware and so forth is that they need to do so in order to stay sane.

paradoxically, the dinner table is the most striking evidence of thistle's insanity, and at the same time, it's the only anchor to sanity he has left.

he kept enforcing the ritual of dinner together long after it lost significance. when even that was impossible- because almost everyone's souls were gone- he kept their bodies at the table anyway. it's fine. it's fine! he's protected them, physically, just like he set out to. they're all still breathing. at a glance it looks like they could wake up and resume dinner at any moment. like this, it's easy to pretend.

isn't that what being a dungeon lord is, at the core of it? rejecting reality, staying in the prison of one's impossible desires. it's just one long game of pretend.

thistle did all this to protect his loved ones. no matter how obsessive and twisted he became in pursuit of that over the years, his core motivation never changed. this is all he has left of that dream: his loved ones' bodies gathered around the locus of their happiest memories together. like this, he can tell himself he's succeeded.

when eodio's body vanished with delgal's soul in it- when he couldn't even have that anymore... well.

i want to reach through the screen and shake him. no, they're not, thistle. THISTLE, NO, THEY'RE NOT! the doll of eodio is the closest thing to him in this panel, underlining the point. when that final illusion was shattered, he became completely unable to cope with reality.

therefore casually forgetting the creepy eodio doll isn't real.

thistle isn't stupid. eodio's body vanished at the same time as delgal's soul. shortly after, more adventurers came pouring in than ever before. deep down, he knows what happened. if he didn't, being confronted with the truth by mithrun wouldn't have made him panic so hard he summoned chimera falin to the first floor.

yet still...

he absolutely can't admit that to himself. he is clinging to the last scraps of the illusion with everything he has.

this is a dungeon lord at the end of desire. this is a lotus-eater machine left running long after its conclusion. this is mithrun lying listlessly in his bed, his replica lover having given up any pretense of being human. the illusion is all that's left. (an illusion is all it ever was.) thistle and the citizens of the golden kingdom- they're ghosts just as much as the ones who wander the dungeon floors. and if it weren't for thistle sealing the lion away, he would've been eaten by it long ago.

all of this encapsulated by that single panel of the dinner table.

[shinhyunjin]

── .✦ little white lies.

⟢ pairing: hwang hyunjin x female!reader

⟢ genre: fluff, non-idol au, established relationship

⟢ word count: 1.9k

⟢ summary: the one where a street interviewer asks the story of how you met.

⟢ author’s note: hello, everyone! i don’t really know what this is, but i clearly got the idea from @/meetcutesnyc on tiktok. i feel like i could maybe turn this into a short series and write one for the rest of the members if you like this one enough. anyway, this is my first fic on this blog, so if you enjoy it please do show it some love<3

“Excuse me, are you two a couple?”

You stop in your tracks at the question, staring at the stranger that was now blocking your way, as he stood in front of you and your boyfriend—a small mic in his hand and cameraman behind him recording the scene before him.

Your first instinct is to look up to Hyunjin, who is already tightening the hold of his hand on yours and pulling you closer to him.

“We are” he doesn’t hesitate to answer.

You find the confused yet protective crease between his eyebrows particularly cute right then, so you smile.

“Would you mind telling us the story of how you met?”

“Oh, you’re that guy?!” You jump in excitement.

Hyunjin’s frown only deepens for a moment, feeling like he is missing a chapter—or a whole book—when the guy in front eagerly nods his head and laughs at your sudden enthusiasm.

One look at you, however, and a glimpse of the smile lighting up your face, is enough for him to go with whatever it is happening right then.

“Baby, they make videos on TikTok asking couples how they met” you explain to him nonetheless, caressing the back of his hand with your thumb to ease the small tension he felt after seeing you interact so comfortably with another guy—a stranger one at that.

“Oh,” Hyunjin lets out, suddenly feeling embarrassed over how defensive he was until then. “We met at an art gallery” he tries to redeem himself by kindly answering the question.

“It was actually kinda funny” you add with a small giggle that has all three guys smiling at you.

“If that’s your way of saying we were one second away from committing a crime, then—”

“Oh, hush” you playfully shut him up, enjoying all too much the dramatic roll of eyes he gives you in response. “It wouldn’t have been a crime. I think”.

Your last addition earns a quiet chuckle from the cameraman, and you wonder if that’s making it into the final video.

“Long story short,” you begin. “I was admiring one of the sculptures, minding my own business, when out of nowhere someone bumped into me. I was caught off guard, of course, so I inevitably lost my balance and bumped into the base that was holding the sculpture” you can’t help but give your boyfriend an accusatory look. “I saw my life flash before my eyes when it started swaying in front of me”.

“I was fast enough to hold it in its place before it fell, though” Hyunjin chimes in before the blame is fully thrown at him. “And thankfully there were only, like, two other people in the room with us and they were too busy checking out the paintings on the walls, so after exchanging panicked looks with this cutie right here, we rushed out of there before we got scolded”.

“We laughed it off as soon as we were in the next room and we couldn’t care less about the stares we got” you explain amidst a small laugh. “It was kind of odd, in a good way, because it felt like we knew each other already”.

“Yeah, it was weird in the best of ways” Hyunjin agrees with an adoring smile. “I obviously wanted to get to know her after that, and I just happened to have an extra ticket to a paid exposition within the main one that day, so I offered it to her in order to apologise for bumping into her and she luckily said yes”.

“And then after that I invited him for coffee to thank him for the ticket”.

Hyunjin chuckles. “And then I asked her out for dinner that same night”.

“So it’s fair to say it was love at first sight?” The guy asks with a grin.

“Definitely” the two of you answer in unison, locking eyes at the realisation and smiling in a way that was hard to tell whether you were aware there were other people in the world.

“We pretty much got together that same day” you admit with a shy smile.

“How long have you guys been together?”

“Four years,” Hyunjin replies.

“Four years and two months” you specify, just for the sake of teasing him.

He smiles and bites his tongue not to add ‘and eleven days’, because that would only lead to you doing the math and figuring out the amount of hours as well, and then him having to figure out the amount of minutes if he wanted to win.

It is a battle you had gone through more than once already, and he refuses to go down that road again—not when there is a camera pointing at you and your whole interaction would be posted on the internet.

“Wow, that’s a long time” the man in front interrupts Hyunjin’s train of thought, bringing the mic closer to you. “What’s your favourite thing about him?”

“Oh, I don’t think I can choose just one” you timidly let him know, looking up to Hyunjin and feeling your cheeks burn as his chocolate eyes are already focused on you, awaiting for an answer. “I really love how sweet and attentive he is. He is always there for me and helps me get through my hardships, even before I even have to ask for his help”.

“And what is your favourite thing about her?” He now asks your boyfriend, who finds himself smiling brightly over your wholesome words and struggling to take his eyes away from you.

“Everything” Hyunjin replies truthfully once he manages to divert his eyes from you—just like you, finding it hard to choose just one thing he loves the most about you. “She’s the most caring and selfless person I’ve ever met. She’s always checking up on me and my family, making sure we’re all okay. And I also need to mention her smile, because whenever she smiles my day is immediately made”.

You give his hand a gentle squeeze and lean your head on his shoulder for a brief moment, unable to hide the emotional pout forming on your lips, as his answer managed to warm your heart.

“So what is the next step in your relationship?”

“Moving in together” Hyunjin answers in a heartbeat, and you are grateful that it doesn’t come off as a surprise, for you had talked about it before—otherwise your heart wouldn’t have been able to take the news of his upcoming plans with you. “We needed to figure a few things out before doing so, but…” he looks down at you, smiling sweetly when your eyes lock and you nod your head, encouraging him to go on. “It’s about time we finally start properly making our life together”.

“And your names are?”

“Y/N” you’re the first to answer.

“I’m Hyunjin” he says.

“Well, thank you so much for your time, Hyunjin and Y/N” the interviewer wraps it up with a smile. “I’m glad you guys are going strong and didn’t end up in jail that day”.

The two of you laugh, and you lean into your boyfriend when he lets go of your hand and gently places his arm over your shoulders instead.

Exchanging goodbyes after being informed that the video would be up the next day, you resume your walk to the all too familiar café around the corner—the one you were heading to before the impromptu street interview took place.

“So those are the kind of videos you’re watching all day…”

“Some of them,” you nod. “I’ve sent you a few here and there. Good to know you don’t actually watch them”.

“I do” he fights back, almost offended you believe he would ever disregard something you showed him. “I thought they were all staged, though. Didn’t know people actually got interviewed on the streets out of nowhere”.

“Is that why you were so defensive when they first approached us?” You laugh.

He huffs, making his bottom lip slightly stick out and having you internally fighting not to kiss him right then. “I thought he was asking if we were a couple in hopes of us not being one, so he could ask you out”.

“Asking me out out of nowhere when I’m walking hand in hand with a guy that is clearly my boyfriend, all while there is a whole cameraman recording us?” You tease with a tilt of your head.

“Hey, who knows?” he defends himself. “Can’t control what kind of weirdos are out there chasing after online views”.

“You’re so cute” you laugh breathily, pressing a soft kiss on his jawline. “We look too much like a couple, if you ask me. They would look stupid to even try”.

“Yeah… I think the hand holding and matching outfits give it away too well” he nods with a teasing smile, motioning to the colour palette you chose together that day.

“Thank God they caught us on a good outfit day” your relieved remark earns a laugh from him. “I can’t wait for the video to be up now, I love the way we met”.

“I know you do,” he softly rubs your hand with his thumb. “Which is why I was surprised you didn’t tell them the whole story”.

“What do you mean?” You frown.

Hyunjin amusedly shakes his head, remaining silent as you reach the café and he holds the door open for you to go in first.

When you’re invaded by the strong yet pleasing scent of coffee and reach the—thankfully—short line to order, he adds, “You left out the part where later on I admitted I intentionally bumped into you just so I could talk to you”.

You laugh at the memory.

It wasn’t like he wanted you to lose your balance and make you almost drop a sculpture that you would be paying until the end of your days, had it actually fallen down and smashed on the ground.

He was just going for a little shove on your shoulder with his own, just enough to make you turn around and allow him to apologise right after. But you were too pretty, and he was too nervous—that alone making him miscalculate the distance between your bodies and slam into your shoulder harder than he had intended to.

He came clean one month into your relationship—the guilt of almost getting you in trouble just because he wasn’t able to earn up the courage to go up and talk to you like any other normal person would, was becoming too much for him to keep a secret for any longer.

You were already in too deep by then to even care, though. If anything, you were flattered that he wanted to get to know you so bad that he ended up coming up with the most stupid—and risky—of ideas in order to do so.

“I thought you weren’t holding back when it came to embarrassing me” he confesses.

You chuckle, shaking your head in both amusement and embarrassment, before pulling him forward in line with you as the people in front do so as well.

“Well, if I did mention that, you would’ve told them about how I already had a ticket to the private exposition and lied about not having one just so I had a reason to stick with you, so…”

Hyunjin’s lips part into a beaming smile, pulling you to him and pressing a kiss to your temple.

Little white lies could sometimes be beneficial; especially when they led you to the best relationship you ever had—the one you were sure would last for the rest of your lives.

“You’re right” he agrees with a smirk. “The internet doesn’t need to know how desperate we both were to get to know each other”.

[meimei-archives]

I feel like you would do justice on this request the “I’ll be watching you trend” with rafe and y/n he’s always watching her even when there at the same party and she’s dancing her heart off and Rafe just watches her while other girls try to get his attention or his gf

Btw him and y/n broke up years ago because he was immature and needed help at the time so they didn’t work out and rafe let her go but she was always there for him

Or which ever story line you decided I don’t mind 💗

I’LL BE WATCHING:: Rafe Cameron

WARNING:: drinking & drug use, enemies to lovers, rough sex, begging, friends to enemies, make up sex, choking, arguing, mentions of overdosing, kook!reader.

SUMMARY:: after being broken up for almost two years it seems that Rafe is always at every public gathering and party and it’s really pissing you off.

A/N:: thank you so much for sending this request, and thank you for trusting in me to write this for you😭!

You were sick of the reoccurring bit you and Rafe had been putting on at every party on figure 8 for the past two years. Every party that you run into him always leaves you with a sinking pit of frustration in your stomach as the two of you got under each others skin. Always leaving early as you can feel his looming presence around you every time you enjoy yourself.

You don’t know what you hated more; the fact that he always had his eyes latched on you, or the fact that he thinks that you don’t notice it. The house that all the kids on figure 8 picked to trash for the night was Topper’s, an advent party thrower, and just so happened to be your ex’s friend.

Though you have had mutual friends before you and Rafe broke up and still without a doubt you both run into each other. And as the days past it seems like you can never stop running into him. And tonight was just another one of those run ins. The beach house was big and comfy, decorated like a hotel resort as the music echoed and vibrated the walls.

The dull smell of coke, weed, and alcohol made the air thick, the room was almost crowded wall to wall where the stereo was located, you and a couple of friends surround yourselves as the music plays you and your friends swaying and dancing against each other.

You were lost in the warm air, and the sheen of sweat that sticks to your skin, your brain was in a heavy haze due to you and couple friends hotboxing a bathroom you all found within the many rooms. You had exchanged glances with Rafe across the room plenty of times tonight, and it seemed like whatever girl was sitting on his arm tonight was getting absolutely no play.

“Rafe? Are you listening?” she tugged at his arm as she watches him snap his head towards her “what?” It came out snappy and it made the girl retract slightly “I was talking to you about that trip Kelce invited me to, are you coming?” She asks and if Rafe genuinely cared he would’ve looked in her eyes and seen the sparkle behind them as she waits for his answer.

But Rafe doesn’t care. He didn’t even know her name, he wasn’t drunk enough to deal with her at that. His eyes fighting to get another glance in of you but he couldn’t see you as the room shuffled with people moving around. “Yeah…I guess I’m going” he shrugs her off as he can distantly hear her little squeal of happiness.

The nasty feeling in the pit of Rafe’s stomach only growing bigger as the seconds go by not being able to find you within the crowd, he urned to see that smile on your face and the way you moved without a care in the world. He missed you. And he hated that it had been years since the two of you talked. He regretted the last thing he ever said to you, high out of his mind, rambling and crying as your patience had grown thin with his addiction.

The words ‘I hate you’ butter on his tongue when he spat them, and the second they fell out of his mouth was the moment he lost you, and he had never felt so empty, falling into a deeper pit of addiction before realizing that you wanted him alive and well, that you would rather be without him and urge him to do better rather than be together and find him one day laid out half alive in a puddle of his own vomit.

And Rafe took it as his sign to get help. He went away, he got off the island for a few months during the fall and cleaned himself up hoping that he’d come back and you’d be there and be proud of him. He needed you there, and when you weren’t he started sitting in every party he had heard you’d be in attendance for even going as far to ask Barry to keep a look out on you when he wasn’t around. Even in the same room Rafe could feel the tightening in his chest at the temporary hole that was in his heart when he couldn’t see you. Standing up on his own two feet feeling a surge of being purely sober he carried himself through the crowd.

If someone told you two years ago that you and Rafe were no longer on speaking terms and the sight of him could make your blood boil in all the wrong ways; you’d think they were lying. But the second you had turned away from your friends with a cup full of a mix your friend had made it splashed your skin sticking to your clothes as you crashed into someone else, a big wall of muscle as the persons large hand steady’s your body. You open your mouth to apologize but the second you meet the icy blue eyes of Rafe it dies down in the back of your throat making your eyebrows pinch together. “Great” you roll your eyes.

Rafe had spilled his drink all over your white top. You could see your bra through it by now and you were beyond pissed. "You're getting me a new one. And by getting me a new one I mean you're buying it" you snap as you set your drink on one of the coffee tables that had scattered beer bottles and ash trays.

Scoffing at your tone Rafe opens his mouth to speak "all of a sudden you can't ask your rich ass parents to buy you a new one? Daddy cut you off or something?" He says with full confidence and the intention to piss you off. "No, but since you're so invested in my life, why don't you invest in some good eyesight and find me a new shirt bastard" you snap.

Rafe had it up to this point, your smart mouth, your attitude, and simply the way you mouth off to him in-front of everyone to embarrass him. Snatching you by your arm he tugs you through the crowd of screaming and laughing people as they dance and sing along to whatever is playing. Dragging you upstairs and tugging you through the dimly lit hallways. You felt lost, your shirt was practically sticking to your skin and most likely staining it a deep shade of red as you can feel the liquid seeping through your bra. Rafe opens a bedroom door and pushes you through making you stumble over your shoes. Leaving the party behind without a care in the world. The loud slam of the door behind him makes you jump in shock.

Rafe drags himself to open one of the drawers of the dressers in the bedroom. "Are you seriously gonna steal someone else's shirt to opt out of buying me a new one?" You snark. "No, this is my room for the night, my shirt. If you want a new shirt so bad I'll buy you one" he grovels as he shovels through the folded clothes finding a random t-shirt he hadn't worn in a while and simply had forgotten about at the bottom of the pile. Tossing it without even looking at you, hitting you in the face earning a yelp from you.

Ripping the shirt out of your view and tossing it to the bed "you are so fucking intolerable I swear. It's been 2 years and you still have the nerve to act like I did something to you" your voice ripples through the room. "You did, 2 years of dirty looks and pissy comments yet you're acting like time hasn’t passed" he was heated beyond belief at this point. And the words almost give you whiplash.

“I beg your pardon? Time doesn’t erase how you treated me, Rafe. It doesn’t take back what you said and did. What the fuck did you think was going to happen when we eventually ran into each other?” You were riled up at this point, sure maybe here and there you made snappy comments about Rafe when you would see him, and maybe you did purposely say it loud enough for him to hear if he was around, but, that’s besides the point.

He was getting under your skin as much as you tried to get under his and it was really pissing you off. “I don’t know, maybe not like a spoiled fuck brat” he griped making your glare deepen with pure hatred. “I’m a spoiled fucking brat? Me? Says ‘king kook’ himself. By the way, how's that going for you? I heard you’ve been all wrapped up in that Pogue and kook beef…actually; you ran the whole operation” you snapped you were going right for the head, you wanted to hurt Rafe’s feelings more than he hurt yours at any cost.

And Rafe scoffs, not wanting to give you satisfaction “I’m clean y’know, I’m not…like that anymore” he mumbles and it makes your face soften immediately. “Why are you telling me that?” You straighten up, it was a weak spot in the armor you had built up over time, Rafe’s addiction was what drove you apart initially, but there were many more cracks in your relationship that weren’t a big priority. “Because I don’t want you to think that’s who you’re talking to right now. I got help.” He speaks feeling more sure in his words. “Cool…” and the second you say it so weakly it makes Rafe’s brows scrunch together and he looks at you, looking your most vulnerable and Rafe didn’t know the nasty feeling in his stomach clench.

“Cool…? That’s it? Two years and that’s it?” Rafe was flabbergasted, he did this for you, and you say it’s just..cool? Not gonna happen. “What do you want me to say Rafe? Do you want me to jump with joy, cry happy tears? What Rafe?” Your skin was burning, and you could feel the tremble in your lips as you stare at him.

“I did this for you! I got clean for you. That’s what you wanted and all you have to say is cool? You asked for this and I gave it to you y/n does that really mean nothing?” His tone is sharp enough to cut through you and loud enough to make your throat go dry, your words like a sword fight, the back and forth becoming more intense by the word. “It’s a bit late for that, no? We’re not together. You hate me, and you want nothing to do with me, does that ring any bells Rafe?”

You felt like the bile in your stomach would burn the back of your throat as you spoke the venomous words. And Rafe only shakes his head as he steps cautiously closer to you “that was stupid, and I know that. But does this really count for nothing?” His voice cracks as he gets on his knees as he looks up at you with those glassy ocean eyes that you used to love so much. His fist clenched as he lays them on both sides of your thighs and it makes your face flare in heat as tears cloud your eyes.

“Should it, Rafe? I don’t know a single thing about you anymore, the last thing you said to me was that you hated me, and that you never wanted to see me. What am I supposed to do? You hurt me, and pushed me away when all I wanted was for you to be healthy. Does that count for nothing? Just because you shaved your head and got clean doesn’t mean you’re all of a sudden in my good graces” you sigh heavily and Rafe can hear the tremble in your breath and he hates it.

“I’m sorry” he says just above a whisper and you catch it and it makes you shake your head “for what? Rafe? What are you sorry for? The way you left things, or thinking that I’d just run into your arms? Maybe it’s the way you watch me every time we’re conveniently near each other, maybe the way you didn’t notice, or all the times you’d get high on coke and let me see you like that. Which one? Tell me.” You urge as you let your tears fall and cool off the heated skin on your cheeks.

The salty tears immediately are wiped away as you watch him in frustration. “Tell me” your voice is weaker and it’s nothing like what you wanted. You didn’t want to be vulnerable and brought to tears over him, after months of you being apart and you hiding away on figure 8 in the confinements of your bedroom locked away from the world. Away from him. And Rafe knew that there was a shopping list of things to apologize for. “All of it, everything, I was the worst person back then, and I knew it and I was so caught up in everything else I didn’t even realize what I was doing and how much it affected you until it was too late…and I’m sorry” he let his tears of built of emotion slip through him.

“You chose drugs over us. And I put up with it until I saw you at rock bottom, I didn’t know if you would ever be who I loved again, but I had to save myself” you mumbled as you wiped away all the tears that continued to fall. “When you left, I fell deeper. And then I saw you again and it looked like you had moved on, happier without me, and I knew I wanted to get my shit together. You helped me get my shit together” he clutched the sheets and it made your eyes shut as you sigh and place your hand on the back of his head gently and take a deep breath.

“I’m glad you’re clean” whispers “even if we aren’t together” and the words sound sour when they reach the thick air of the room and it makes Rafe cup your wrist. “I watch you…because I was scared” the words are curt and it makes you stiffen “scared? Of what?” You were confused, If Rafe had worried for you then why had he not said a word. “I don’t even remember…I was always high, and I would watch you but eventually I got clean and it became a habit to just sit and watch you. Just to make sure you were safe, or just okay” his words made your brain melt, as you looked into his eyes, read from tears and his pupils are perfectly fine, nothing out of the ordinary.

“Even though I said I hate you, I’ve never meant it. I was hurt that you left when I needed you; but eventually I realized you were doing it for a good reason. And in a weird way I watched over you to make sure nothing ever happened to you” he mumbled as he leaned into your touch. The familiar feeling of your nails against his scalp made him relax as the feelings twisting him up would ease up. “To this day?” You ask and Rafe opens his mouth with hesitation before he finally speaks up “I still care about you, and I know it doesn’t look like it right now, but I will never stop caring about you” and that does it for you.

There was always a looming presence in your heart, a small space that had been lumped around in your chest, locked away in the depths that you had never acknowledged, the fact that there was still a part of Rafe that you cared for. You hated to admit it, to anyone no matter how close you were. But looking down at the buzzed blonde you felt that heavy lump in your chest breaking the locks and filling up with nothing but thoughts of Rafe,Rafe, Rafe.

No longer just a crack in your armor it was now a gaping hole, torn open and each time you heard his voice each piece falling apart. “I can’t just take your word for it. Saying it doesn’t prove it, words are just words until proven as a fact. How do I know I can trust what you say?” The lump in the back of your throat becomes more evident. “Let me prove it. Please? I waited two years, and I can spend the next a hundred years trying to get my point across. I don’t just want you to believe what I say, I need you to” his words like a match to the skin.

“Prove it. Show me I can trust you, and we can figure out what happens next” your voice is hesitant, and low but it gives Rafe a sense of relief. He pulls you in by your waist holding you tight with his head to your chest, as he’s reminded of the drink that spilled making him pull away. A sheen of wetness on his cheeks as they flared red with color he stands up and it makes you giggle as he makes a disgusted face wiping the alcohol from his face.

You grip the hem of your shirt pulling it off without a second thought, and you pause for a moment as you sit on the bed, in your bra, in front of your ex after having an intense conversation. Your hand just a hair away from his shirt; the two of you staring at one another before Rafe breaks into a smirk. Stepping to the edge of the bed “if you missed me so bad you could’ve said so-” the words getting cut off the second he tries to sit on the edge of the bed he falls missing the bed almost entirely which earns a laugh from you, the sharp pain shooting through his ass be damned because; Rafe missed hearing your laugh, the way it bubbled from your chest or the way your lips curl into a smile and eyes fall shut as your long eyelashes tickle against your cheek.

He watches intently as he stands once more watching as you curl over in laughter before opening your eyes and seeing how close he is, making your smile fall into a grin. “I missed that” he says confidently and it makes your head feel as you look up at him with curious eyes. And he stands between your legs and it surfaces something familiar, fuzzy, and a distant throb between your thighs that makes your head spin. “I missed your laugh” his words make you feel warm.

The warmth of his roughy palm cupping your cheek makes you lean into it, the skin to skin contact leaves a wave of nostalgia that it had craved and it makes your eyes glaze over “I missed this” his words the final nail in the coffin, he leans over you to press his lips to yours, a taste of soda and a little bit of liquor and it made Rafe feel weak in the knees. Your glossy lips kissing back, the way your hands find his hair running through the short locks and it makes him groan into your mouth. His thumb parting your lips as his tongue swirls against yours, and his scent fills your senses.

The way your lip gloss stains his lips, as your tongues and teeth clash, this desperate and searing kiss becoming intense as you grip his short hair tightly, nothing like how you used to, missing his longer hair that would always brush against your face any time you would kiss, but this was different; he was different. He was finally growing up, and moving onto better things. “Prove it” you mumbled against his mouth and it makes Rafe pull away from your kiss swilling lips with a string of saliva breaking from the space of your lips.

He trails wet kisses from your cheek to your chin, not acknowledging your words and steadily shows you with his mouth as your head tilts back to press harsh kisses across your throat as his lips nip and suck on a spot he remembers riling you up. You pull away before his soft lips touch your chest “off. Take your shirt off” you blurt and it makes Rafe grin. He didn’t know how far this was going but he’d do whatever you asked in a heartbeat if it meant moving onto the next step with you.

He pulls the white polo by the back of the collar over his head dropping it to the floor on top of yours. Your eyes greedily look over him to see he had grown his muscles, once scrawny and a bit scrappy, he not only had grown emotionally even if it was just a bit, he definitely grew as a man…a lot. His tanned skin covered in freckles from being under the sun, the happy trail that traveled past his jeans. It made you want to discover him all over again. This new version of Rafe, what makes him tick, what buttons you could press, if the same spots you scratched and kissed were still the same, if he had any new scars that you had yet to discover. It made you oh too eager.

Your finger hook onto his belt loops and pull him closer to you, looking up at him with lust filled as you pressed heated kisses to his chest, leaving behind hickeys in your wake down to his lower stomach nipping at his skin biting gently, and it makes him groan at the feeling of your teeth sinking into his skin “fuck, sweetheart” his hand finds your jaw as your nose presses against him finding a spot he knows all too well; his hip with a tiny brown freckle that was sensitive, the warmth of your tongue licking a small stripe against it before pressing your lips to it.

It makes Rafe shutter as it overwhelms him, the euphoric sensation clouds over him, he shuffles to pull you to your feet before taking the spot you once took up and urging you into straddling his lap, cradling the side of your face and kissing you roughly. His hands trailing your body as if this was the first time you had ever been together, like he wanted to memorize every inch he had missed over time. It felt like a haze, every trail of his jagged fingertips tips against your skin felt like your own personal heaven, mentally kicking yourself for depriving yourself of the feeling for so long.

Your hands grip at whatever you can to pull him closer to you, his rough palms sliding from your waist to your ass, he grips the soft skin over your shorts and it makes your skin shiver with anticipation. Grinding against his lap, feeling the bulge growing under his shorts. You feel your panties sodden with your juices making you arch into his chest you moan into his mouth, the sound makes Rafe grind his hips back into yours wanting no separation.

”fuck i missed seeing you like this” he groaned his hands guiding your hips dragging you back and forth as small whimpers fall past your lip as he whispers dirty words into your ear; you could hear your own pulse in your ears as the pleasure of friction drives you grind harder before you stop out of frustration and wanting to feel his skin against your. “I can’t do this…too many clothes in the way, need them off” you whine as if you had clothes on any longer you’d melt. And that makes you pull yourself off of him as you fumble with your buttons and zipper, and Rafe does the same.

Stripping down to almost being fully naked, it made you vulnerable, your arms cover yourself, because as eager as you were to let your bodies collide for the first time in years, things had changed, the sweet nothing Rafe would whisper to you about how beautiful you were and how he worshipped your body like a piece of art had been a distant memory, and with the disappearance of Rafe in your life as a constant nobody was there to tell you how much of a goddess you really were inside and out.

Rafe’s face scrunches as he watches you shy away from showing your skin makes him shake his head “don’t hide from me, don’t do that” he mumbled, it sounded all too familiar; the first time you ever laid in bed with each other with the intent to have sex. The way you were insecure of your body, how you were worried that the second Rafe saw you bare was the day he would never be attracted to you again.

“Come here, baby.” His voice gentle as you moved to take your spot in his lap once more the fabric of both of your underwear stuck to each other from the way your juices soak through your panties leaving a wet splotch on his boxers. “I don’t know what went on when i was gone, but I know that your and this beautiful body…” he presses kisses to your cheek and down your neck “are perfect, and i want to see every inch. Let me see all of you baby. Please?” His voice is gentle yet you know he means them and isn’t just saying it to comfort you.

and you nod as your lips catch his in a searing kiss, the sound of your lips against each other mixed with heavy breathing a moan makes your head spin in all the right ways. Eventually you find yourself back entangled in the sheets as Rafe travels your body leaving behind heated kisses and love bites until he hooks his fingers onto your panties pulling them down slowly until they hang from your ankle, you kick them off to join the rest of your clothes.

His hands guide the back of your thighs up and your knees to your chest, leaving you put on display “so fuckin’ pretty, baby” he mumbles almost as if he’s talking to your pussy,and your eyes snap shut the second you feel his tongue slowly lick a thick stripe up and down your pussy, masking you moan as your head falls back in pure pleasure.

it felt like he was making out with your pussy, drunk on the feeling and sight of you quivering as he practically eats you alive. Your thighs shake as the pressure builds in the pit of your stomach. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing harsh circles that makes you clench around nothing. Gripping at the sheets of the bed for a sense of grounding yourself, but the way Rafe ate you out like you were his last meal makes your eyes roll back and your hand falls into his short hair.

”harder baby, pull it harder’ he groaned into you as your fingers tighten around his blonde locks. “That’s it’’ he coo’s at you before you feel his finger rub against your entrance before slowly pushing it in and it makes him groan as you tighten round his digit. “She missed me so bad” he groans as he licks up every bit of your juices that run down you. Like a sweet essence like your taste on his tongue was life changing.

Your hips grind against his fingers as your thighs tighten up around his head, the heat formed “give it to me” he was eager to feel you finish; just for him, around his fingers. He pushes in another finger and pushes you closer to the edge, your eyes sticking to the way Rafe drops a thick pearl of spit on your pussy before his mouth is latched against your clit making all thoughts of keeping quiet slip past your mind. The deep pressure was becoming too much, his fingers reaching a spot nobody else could.

the feeling of your soaked gummy walls clenching on his fingers so tightly makes him moan as your thighs quiver around his head, finally letting your orgasm wash over you. “So good, That’s it” he talks you through it as that white hot feeling rolls over your body. He slowly releases you wishing the tight grasp of his hands as you relax into the sheets and it makes Rafe grin in satisfaction “you’re not giving out on me already are you?” His tone is condescending and it lights the heat under your skin that you had associated with Rafe the past few years.

”fuck off” you groan as you sit up, pulling his boxers off his hips, you could see that he was fully hard, and just as big as you remember. It makes your smirk; knowing that you could make Rafe’s body react this much even if it had been years. You push him back against the pillows of the bed and toss the last few pieces of clothing that had covered your bodies. You straddle his lap, your hands intimate and soft rub over his chest and settle on his lower stomach before you bring a hand to your mouth, licking across your palm before you spread your thighs and take his cock within your grasp jerking him off slightly as the glisten of your spit shines on his cock and it makes his eyes flutter shut.

Letting you sink down on him slowly as you lean into each other with your mixed euphoria like a fever dream just waiting to end. You were soaked and it made Rafe's mouth fall open slightly at the feeling, loving the way you were so tight and warm around him, how this feeling of sharing passionate moments with you was once distant now wrecking his body. Slowly building a pace as the soft pattering of your thighs meeting his hands rest on his chest to give you stability your hips stop and slow down to grind against him. “How’s this for giving out?” You ask teasingly, feeling the way his fingers pitch and rub against the skin of your ass and thighs, and it makes the most neediest whimper fall past your mouth.

You could feel Rafe’s hips weakly fucking up into you and it makes your head fall back momentarily in bliss before you build up a faster pace, as much as you wanted to cum, that feeling was easily bought out at the idea of making Rafe feel as good as he makes you. You pull at the back of his head gripping his hair tight within your grasp as you ride him harder. The sight of the glossy sheen your pussy makes on his cock as your ass bounces in his lap with loud smacking sounds resound in the air making him groan in pure pleasure. Closing his eyes tightly holding back the moan building up in the back of his throat. “Look at it” you grip his hair tighter and it makes his eyes shoot open looking down between your thighs and watches as you grind on him harshly his jaw slacks.

“I know you missed me” you giggle as you continue to pick up the same rhythm of riding him as moans fall out your throat ringing out as the headboard cracks against the drywall with a dull thumping sound that matches the of your hips. You felt like your mind was melting and that everything else around you was a blur, your needy moans clog Rafe’s brain and it eggs him on to pull you into his chest as one hand rests on your hip and the other grips around your hair tight in his fist as he pounds into you.

the sound of skin on skin smacking was like an endless loop, but with each thrust and the thrill shooting through your limbs as adrenaline rushes through your veins your grip onto his shoulder digging your nails into his skin which earns a guttural moan and smack to the ass that leaves a red hot pain behind on your skin that you’d rather not admit to enjoying deeper than face value. “You’re so deep inside” you moan as you thrash the overwhelming sensation between your thighs and the white ring that froths at the base of his cock your foreheads pressed together as the both of you look between your bodies and the nonstop movements of your entangled limbs with strings of your essence and his precum stick to your thighs, the wet sounds was like music to Rafe’s ears, each moan falling from the back of your throat and rumbling against his chest makes Rafe become more harsh and precise.

”fuck you’re gonna me cum” he moaned, his pupils blown out as his hip press deeper into you leaving you completely caged in his arms “I’m so close” you whisper into his ears, you were more desperate to see him finish your lips close to his ear as you urged him- no begged him to cum inside you. And it leaves Rafe a mess, as his moans and breathing become jagged he slows down and captures you in a kiss as the two of you finish grinding against each other with bated breath and unspoken words.

the two of you coming down from your highs pull apart reluctantly as the sound of muffled music becomes more apparent that the party was still going on downstairs, Rafe gets up to use the bathroom attached to the room coming back with a warm rag to clean you up, pressing kisses to your thighs and the scratches you hadn’t even known he ad left on you before you both lay in the bed in just your underwear.

”So about that shirt…”

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie cursed, rubbing his eyes. He had to figure out a way to help his uncle with the hospital bills. Wayne was out of work for now, and the money from Eddie's little business wouldn't cover it all. He had to do something, and the gremlins said that they take shit from Steve's house all the time. . .he doesn't mind. Oh, fuck, he couldn't believe that he was doing this. It was easy to tell himself that he was just a pharmaceutical salesman when he was selling drugs but breaking into someone's house? It was hard to explain that one away. Eddie swallowed his guilt and squared his shoulders. He slid open the back door of Steve’s house and entered the room that looked out at the pool in the backyard. Okay, now, he just had to get past the living room and up the stairs. The living room was dark as Eddie crept by. . .except, there was a flickering glow coming from the TV. Someone was still home. Shit! He was supposed to be on a date!

"Fuck," Eddie cursed softly.

Eddie's eyes adjusted, and then he realized what he was looking at. Steve was leaning back on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, and he was watching. . .the animated Hobbit movie? Eddie nearly choked on his own saliva. Steve was enjoying it too, bobbing his head to the music, a smile on his face. Eddie stared at him for a moment, getting lost in the way he smiled and laughed. . .the way he looked ethereal in the light of the television screen. Eventually, though, Eddie's eyes drifted from Steve to the screen, and he got lost in the story. Before he knew it, Eddie was sitting on the other side of the couch. At some point, Steve offered him popcorn, and he accepted, thanking him as he stuffed the kernels into his mouth. When the movie ended, Steve got up and turned on the lights before sitting back down again. Eddie grinned, he fucking loved that movie.

"Okay, that was pretty good," Steve said.

"You've never seen it before?" Eddie asked.

"Nope! Dustin suggested it. . .he didn't think I'd read the book," Steve rolled his eyes. "He's got to get that ego of his in check."

"It's his tone, right?" Eddie asked.

"Exactly!" Steve exclaimed.

"You've read the book?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, yeah, I figured. . .Dustin agreed to do something for me, so I figured, why not throw him a bone," Steve said. "I loved the book, and I'm trying to get through the Fellowship, but it's just - I guess I'm just slower than most people," Steve said.

"Hey, man, Tolkien isn't for everyone and hell, I love his works but the man can go on about a fucking tree," Eddie said. "You should get points for trying."

They talked about Tolkien for a few minutes and how Steve really liked it, but it was difficult for him. They also talked about Dustin, and they laughed when they realized they were both jealous of each other when the kid looked up to both of them. It was a nice moment, and he couldn't believe he had so much in common with him. . .turns out there's not enough money in the world that could make your parents love you. Finally, Steve cleared his throat and crossed his arms.

"So, are we going to talk about you breaking into my house?" Steve asked.

"Shit," Eddie said, his eyes wide. "Uh - "

He was very flustered, and he didn't know what to say. How could he explain to him that he wanted to steal from him? He could just say it. Steve smirked and moved closer to him. . .so close their thighs were touching. Steve threw an arm over the back of his couch, right behind Eddie, and leaned in even closer. Suddenly, Eddie was very aware of just how close they were. He could feel Steve’s breath on his skin. His heart was being rapidly in his chest. This was just because of his guilt and not because he enjoyed Steve Harrington being pressed up against him. . .right?

"Did you break into my house to watch a movie with me?" Steve asked, his voice low and husky. It did something to Eddie's lower part of his body. "I have to say. . .very flattered."

"I'm not - ," Eddie said, trying to get out that he didn't like men or try to break into their houses to flirt with them. "I'm an asshole!"

"Excuse me?" Steve asked.

"You were supposed to be on a date," Eddie said, his face very red.

"Yeah, well, I think I found something better. . .more like something better found me," Steve smiled, a crooked smile that did something funny and weird to Eddie's heart. Was he dying?

"Look, the kids said that you don't really care about what they take from your house, so I thought I'd partake. . .," Eddie said, trailing off, feeling ashamed

"You came here to steal from me?" Steve asked, incredulous.

Eddie was disappointed when he moved away from him. He missed the contact, and he hated the way Steve was looking at him. He was so. . .disappointed, and Eddie wondered why he even cared because he didn't even know him all that well. Maybe that was the point. For one brief moment, he wanted to know more about Steve Harrington, and all it took was seeing him watch one of his favorite movies. It didn't take much for him to believe in all the things that the kids had told him before. . .in his minds eyes, Steve Harrington had been this almost mythic being. . .too good to be true, but now, here was a real person. He always watched him from afar, Steve had everything: a nice house, money, popularity, and unlike his stupid jock friends, he was decent to the smallfolk of Hawkins High. As much as he tried to deny it, Steve Harrington was a good dude, and Eddie had been the dick who hurt him. He knew that if he had just asked, from what Dustin had said about him, that Steve probably would have given him the shirt off his back but not without complaining loudly about it first.

"I'm sorry. . .I just needed the money. My uncle got into an accident that put him out of work, and my drug business isn't paying the bills. . .I've tried getting hired elsewhere, but have you seen me?! I just thought that since you didn't care - " Eddie rambled.

Just like that, Steve was smiling at him again. . .softly this time and with a lot of affection. He stood up and held out his hand.

"Come along, thief," Steve smirked.

Eddie, immediately and without question, slid his hand into Steve’s. It fit so perfectly. Steve pulled him up off the couch and started leading him up the stairs. He pulled him into a bedroom. . .oh.

"Uh. . .," Eddie started to say.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything to you in here," Steve rolled his eyes. "This is my parents' bedroom."

"Why are we in here?" Eddie asked.

Steve opened a closet door and pulled him inside. Jesus, it was huge. It was a woman's closet filled with clothes, shoes, and jewelry.

"This is my mom's second closet but not her real one. She keeps all of her stuff in her apartment in New York. They own this house, and my parents each have their own apartment. They only keep the house for real estate or some shit, I wasn't really paying attention. One of the reasons why they keep me around is because they'll know I'll take care of it," Steve said.

"Like you're their live in butler?" Eddie asked.

"If you have to put it that way, yes," Steve rolled his eyes.

"Sorry," Eddie winced.

"No, it's true," Steve said. "In this closet, you can sell anything you want to. This is all the stuff my dad's bought my mom over the years every time he's cheated. She hates it. She sends it all back here."

"All of this?!" Eddie asked in surprise. "Has his dick fallen off yet?"

"I think my mom hopes for that," Steve scoffed.

"You seriously don't mind if I sell this stuff?" Eddie asked.

"Not at all, especially if it's for your uncle," Steve said. "Something good should come from this goddamn nightmare of a marriage."

"You came out of this marriage, Steve," Eddie said softly. "Your mom doesn't - ?"

"I'm sure she loved me at some point, but it's hard for her. . .I look too much like my dad," Steve said.

"You know, that's fucked up, right?" Eddie asked and he nodded.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the tears. One slipped out anyway. Eddie cupped his face and wiped the tears way with his thumb. Steve sighed and leaned into his touch for a moment before pulling away.

"I think it's sweet, you know. You must really love your uncle to go to all through this trouble," Steve said, smiling. "I might not have my parents, but I have Robin, Dustin, his mom, Lucas, and his parents. The rest of the party, too. . .I think I'd do anything for them."

"Steal for them?" He asked.

"Definitely," Steve said and paused, his hand on his hip as his eyes began twinkling with mirth. "I think that it's only fair that I steal something from you."

It was fair, Eddie thought. Steve placed his hands on Eddie's vest, running his fingers down the length of the vest. He gripped the collar. . .Eddie narrowed his eyes at him.

"You can't have my vest. I worked hard on it. I literally put my blood, sweat, and tears into it. Do you know how long it takes to sew - !"

Eddie was cut off by Steve pulling him close and smashing his lips to his. Eddie's eyes went wide - HE DOES NOT LIKE MEN, HE DOES NOT LIKE MEN - Okay, so maybe he does like men. Eddie's eyes fluttered closed, and he was about to return the kiss when Steve pulled away.

"You can have whatever you want, take my fucking wallet if you want," Eddie said, dazed.

"I don't want your wallet, Eddie," Steve chuckled. "Just you."

Eddie pushed up against against the doorframe, his hands on his chest. . .looking rather intense. Steve stared at him with wide eyes, unsure of what he was going to do. Eddie's hands went to his throat, and then cupped his face. Steve relaxed and smiled. Eddie noticed there were some green in his brown eyes. . .hazel. Eddie kissed him. Steve's hands went his hips immediately, pulling himself harder against Eddie and deepening the kiss. Eddie's hands went to the back of his neck, moving his lips roughly against Steve’s, gripping his hair. Steve pushed him back against the other frame, his lips moving to Eddie's neck.

"Fuck," Eddie cursed.

It wasn't the first time Eddie cursed tonight, and he felt like it wouldn't be the last. He was pretty sure he liked women. . .particularly cheerleaders in short skirts. . .skirts that showed their ass a little bit. Yeah, he did. The image of Steve Harrington in a cheerleader skirt immediately flooded his mind. . .the hint of his perky ass just peaking out. . .Eddie let out another curse as Steve sucked on his neck, and the image of Steve wearing the uniform was a little bit too much. He pushed Steve off of him. Yeah, Eddie was hard.

"Sorry, did I go too far?" Steve asked.

"No, I went too far," Eddie gasped. "I was picturing you in a cheerleader uniform."

"Why?" Steve asked coyly.

"I was trying to figure out if I still liked women," Eddie said and tried to cool himself off.

"Oh! Oh shit, I didn't know that you didn't know!" Steve exclaimed, his eyes wide with panic.

"How could you have? I didn't tell you and I didn't fucking know. There were signs!" Eddie shrieked and then muttered, "I bet Ronnie knows."

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"Yeah. . .it was a great fucking kiss. I just I'm confused. . .women or men, men or women!" Eddie exclaimed and held up both of his hands. "Put them together. . .yeah. . .okay."

"Eddie, I'm bisexual," Steve said gently.

"You're a woman and a man?" Eddie asked. "That's fucking metal."

"No!" Steve laughed. "That's good to know that you're okay with that, too, though. It's means I'm sexually attracted to more than one gender."

"You know, I was wondering why Jeff was giving me an odd look when I was talking about David Bowie being bisexual. . .why the fuck didn't he correct me?" Eddie asked.

"Because he probably thought it was funny," Steve said.

"Asshole," Eddie said, cursing out Jeff. "I feel like such an idiot."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up, man. We're all figuring things out. I didn't even know there was a name for it until a few months ago," Steve said, taking his hand.

"But you knew," Eddie said. "Unlike me. . ."

"There's a lot of things that people don't about themselves. You get to know yourself, too, when you get to know other people. Don't call my thief an idiot like that again. . .you were just clueless," Steve said.

"What's the difference?" Eddie asked.

"Well, one feels a little bit more like Scooby Doo," Steve said. "And you're trying to solve a mystery."

"Stop getting sexier," he scowled.

"Come on, since you're still figuring it out, let's go downstairs, and we can watch the cartoon Lord of the Rings. I rented that one, too," Steve said and kissed Eddie's hand.

"I said stop it, you goddamn Disney prince," Eddie mumbled, blushing.

"Says the thief who invaded my castle," Steve winked.

"Fuuuucking, stop it," Eddie whined. "Jesus H Christ. . .by the way, your thief?"

"Yeah, no, I decided. . .I'm definitely stealing you," Steve said.

His hands were on his hips in the most bitchiest and sexiest pose ever which Eddie thought was completely unfair. He had no defense against that weapon, and it was safe to say that those hips were weapons of mass destruction because they were completely destroying Eddie and apparently have been slowly over the years. . .he just refused to admit it. 'Imagine him doing that in a cheerleading uniform,' his evil half whispered to him. Eddie shrieked.

"Let's go watch the movie!" Eddie yelled.

He grabbed Steve’s hand and yanked him down the stairs, Steve laughing all the way. They settled in to watching the movie, with Eddie throwing caution to the wind and tossing his legs over Steve’s. Watching it with him did help him relax and enjoy the comfort of someone who wanted Eddie Munson close to them, who didn't fucking draw the pitchforks the minute he broke into his house. No, in fact, Steve Harrington fucking kissed him. This beautiful asshole wanted to get closer to him and apparently not just physically intimate with him. Either Steve really did want Eddie, or he was desperate for anyone's attention, even settling for Eddie. At some point during the movie, Eddie stopped watching it and started watching Steve instead, trying desperately to figure it all out. Steve turned to him, smiling softly, his beautiful haze eyes lighting up at his attention. Yeah, he wanted Eddie "the Freak" Munson.

"Hi," Steve whispered.

"Do you have a death wish?" Eddie blurted out.

"A little bit, why?" Steve frowned.

"No reason," Eddie said and turned back to the movie.

After the movie was over, they talked about in detail for a while with the conversation leading to Steve ranting that all jocks are nerds, that they always have been, and he didn't understand why they went after other fellow nerds. He talked a lot about statistics and math. . .Holy shit, Steve Harrington was good at math. It was the hottest thing he's ever witnessed. It led to Eddie straddling him and kissing the daylights out of him. Eddie had to pull back before he developed another problem, though. He cupped Steve’s face, enjoying the way the other man looked utterly kissed out because of him.

"So, have you figured some things out?" Steve asked softly, rubbing Eddie's back as he continued to straddle his lap.

"I'm like you," Eddie said. "Definitely."

"There's no pressure. . ." Steve said.

"I know there isn't," Eddie laughed. "Bisexual. . .it feels right to me. For me. Just like you do. . .by the way, I'm totally judging you for falling for a man who broke into your goddamn house."

"Says the man who broke into said house and gave himself away by watching a movie with me," Steve laughed.

"Touche," Eddie cackled and pressed his forehead. "If I don't leave now, I might stay forever."

"That would be a shame," Steve said with a grin.

Steve walked Eddie to the door and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. Eddie could still feel the presence of his lips even when he got home. He felt like he was forgetting something, but he couldn't remember what. He didn't remember it until the next day when he found that someone had broken into his van and placed a package with some jewelry and a note.

To My Thief:

Forget something? Well, I hope you aren't so busy thinking about me that you forget to call.

Your prince,

Steve

His number was down below. Eddie smiled and clutched the note to his chest. Yeah, things were looking up for him. 86 was definitely his year.

[littlemissmiller]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑵𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝑫𝒐𝒐𝒓

Pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: (au) (Joel is dad to a 9 year old Sarah) Joel has been your neighbor for some time and you and him have become friendly. In an attempt to spend more time to him (and a desire to show off your summer body) you throw a pool party…

Warning: 21+ (drinking), smut, fluff, friends to lovers, use of nicknames (babydoll, baby, darling), p in v, ass eating, cowgirl style, fingering, couch sex, porn with a plot

Work count: 4.1k

A/N: hi all! the official first day of summer is today and i got inspired by a pool party i went to with my mans so i just had to write this cute lil smutty, fluffy story. i have a billy request coming and hopefully i get ch 3 of Summer Highs out soon (i know i said it would be soon don’t trust me on a release date which is why i don’t do them) ok that’s it! much love and enjoy ❣︎

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It’s always a hot summer in Texas. It would feel weird if it wasn’t, but this year it feels like the earth is a legit bun in the oven. The whole neighborhood is feeling the heat, so given you have a pool in your backyard, you invite people over for a summer kickoff. Of course it has nothing to do with the fact you are desperate to see Joel Miller in nothing but a pair of swim trunks. From just his work shirts alone, you could see how tight his shirt hugged his muscles. How toned his back was whenever he would sweat through it doing yard work. You would always wave over to him from across the street, occasionally bring him water or lemonade while he worked. And today, your excuse for seeing him was to invite him to your pool party. You catch him outside after work, in his garage tinkering around under his truck. You stroll across the street and walk in. You knock on the side of the garage walls and Joel slides out from under his Silverado.

“Well hey there!” He beams, striding towards you

“What’s up cowboy.”

“Not much, waiting for Sarah to come home from soccer camp.” He informs

“Oh keeping her busy.”

“Well between so and the library reading contest she’s more or less keeping herself busy. Determined to get those Astro tickets. I promised we would do a road trip and she reaches thirty books by the end of June and wins the two tickets. She’s already at twenty five. She has a whole strategy.”

“Wow. Good for her. Well I hope she’s not too busy this weekend…” you state

“Oh yeah why’s that” he smiles, leaning his arm against the garage and above your head. You feel totally lost here with him looking at you how he is. His big brown eyes, so curious and pleasant, simply wondering what you have to say. He raises his eyebrows in anticipation.

“Well I sent out an evite a little bit ago, but I wanted to come tell you in person that I’m having a pool party Saturday. I thought we could all beat the heat ya know.”

“Yeah we‘ll be free.” He steps back, taking a rag from his waist and wiping his hands. He heads toward his garage fridge and gets out two bottles of water, offering you one.

“Thanks. So you do have your own water.”

“Yeah I always keep that fridge full. Especially with Sarah and her friends I practically always got Gatorade.”

“So you just like my water better?”

Joel smiles at you, combing his hair with his fingers. You watch his muscles flex and wish that you can be wrapped in them. He starts to look through his tool box and nods.

“You could say that. So Saturday you said? What time?”

“It starts at 12, but you can stay for as long as you’d like.”

“I’ll talk to Sarah, but I have a feeling she'll say yes. She loves you, so any excuse to see you, she’ll take.”

“I’m sure.”

“We’ll see ya Saturday then.” He winks and disappears back under his truck

You waltz out of the garage and back to your house. You trot inside gleefully and close the door behind you. You could jump, squeal, practically combust. Not only did you just figure out Joel had his own drinks on deck whenever he works, but always accepts an offer from you no matter what. God he must like you. He must. You hope you're not thinking too much into it but, you couldn’t help but think when he said “She loves you, so any excuse to see you, she’ll take…” he really was talking about himself. You bite your lip and roll your eyes. You want him so badly. So bad you feel like you are going to explode. You lean your head back against the door and sigh.

Saturday comes around soon enough, and you spend the whole evening and next morning preparing for the day. You clean your house, chop lettuce, tomatoes and onions for burgers, cut up a watermelon and make a macaroni salad. Even though you hadn’t explicitly asked for his help, you had a feeling Joel would want to help grill and you’d gladly take it. You prepare a cooler with a few beers and some water and put it in your garage fridge. Next you set up the pool area. You lay the cushions on the pool chairs, unwind the umbrellas and set out a few pool noodles. Everything looks perfect and your first guests start arriving around 12:08. More and more people arrive and at around 1:30, you finally see Joel and Sarah pulling up. He walks in with his own cooler and a swim bag. He approaches you while Sarah runs off to the other neighborhood kids.

“Well hey cowboy! Glad you could make it.”

“Yeah sorry we are late. Work called last minute and I had to help them order some more flooring for our site.”

“No worries. But these people are getting hungry and maybe you could help grill. I hate to put you to work…”

“Ain’t no trouble darling.”

“Ok I’m going to change. The patties are already formed, just in the fridge.”

Joel follows you inside and heads into your kitchen, poking his head in the fridge. You walk upstairs to your bedroom and change into your swimsuit. You had gone out that week and picked out a new suit. It was white, a two piece, the edge frilled, and it shaped your figure so well. You spin around and admire how it sits on your ass. The back had a cheeky build, and totally gave the viewer an idea of how your cute little ass looks. Not to mention the way it rides up, exposing your cheeks slightly, it’s perfect and you can’t wait for Joel to see you in it. You put your jean shorts back on and find one of your white, open-knit, pool coverup and a red, and a worn USA baseball cap. You pull your ponytail through the loop of your hat and spin around one last time.

Rushing down the stairs, only to find Joel already outside starting the grill. You sigh in disappointment. You take a beer from your fridge and try to open in on your own. Then Joel walks back inside. Even though your back is turned to him, he can tell you are struggling.

“Need help?”

You jump and turn around, your tits bouncing slightly as you turn, which Joel notices. He also seems slightly speechless as you turn to face him. His sentence cut off, face frozen, as if you stole the words from his mouth.

“Uh yeah, thanks.” You hand him the bottle and he takes it, uncapping it like it’s nothing. He hands it back to you and you take a swig.

“Oh hey so because I was so outta sorts getting out the door, I totally forgot to get sunscreen. You got any, Sarah is itching to get in the pool.”

“Of course” you run back up to your bathroom, find a 50 SPF bottle and head back down stairs. Joel calls out to his daughter and she comes rushing inside. At the sight of your face she enthusiastically calls your name and rushes towards you. You hold her in your arms.

“Hey sunshine!”

“We brought brownies!” She proclaims

“Oh did your dad make them?”

“Mhmm. Well he helped, I really was the baker!” She insists

Joel lets out a playful chuckle and rolls his eyes in amusement.

“Yeah, especially with all those eggshells you had to fish out?”

“At least I know how to preheat the oven.” She claps back

Joel smirks and then looks at you. He has always appreciated how loving and kind you are to Sarah. He appreciates knowing that when she’s with you, she’s in more than good hands. And you adored her as well.

“Hey! let her get that sunscreen on ya.”

“I’m fine! I’ll stay in the shade!” Sarah protests but before she can scurry off you’re already squirting it into your hand, applying it to her shoulders.

“You know you don’t have to listen to him. I thought you’re supposed to be the fun one!” She whines, and you smear her face. She scrunches it up in displeasure.

“I am the fun one. This is called fun in the sun, sunshine.”

She groans and pulls her face away.

“You know I think I saw a bomb pop with your name on it out in the garage fridge, if you can still hang in there for one more second.” You promise. “Ok there. Top shelf in the garage. Bring a few for the other kids. Ok?”

“Yes!” She states firmly and rushes off into the garage

“She just loves to keep ya busy…”

“Tell me about it.” Joel rolls his eyes “you uh…you look nice…” he swallows nervously

“Thanks, it’s new. I got it for today actually.”

“Oh really. Trying to impress someone?” He asks

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You quip back, smirking “how’s those burgers coming along”

“Grills still heating up, this is really nice of ya to invite everyone. Sarah hasn’t really had much pool time with soccer.”

“Well you two are invited over anytime.”

“Appreciate the offer. What else do you need for these burgers?”

“Here” you state, turning to the fridge and opening it.

You grab the toppings, cheese, and condiments and follow him outside. As Joel grills, you make your way around, chatting with your fellow neighbors. Eventually you get in the pool with a playful “go on sugar, I’ll holler at ya when they are ready” from Joel. As you strip off your top and shorts, Joel checks you out from across the pool. He can’t help but let his eyes linger on the curves of your body, the way your bikini bottoms hug your ass, and how nice and perky your boobs sit on your chest.

You notice him checking you out, your own eyes hidden behind your sunglasses. You try not to look so much, but with his back to you, it’s easier to admire his broad shoulders. And you have to admit, Joel is absolutely radiating domesticity. You could easily get used to this sight. Sarah splashes around you, pretending to be a mermaid looking for pearls and you throw sinking rings for her to dive for. Joel catches you playing with Sarah, and smiles. The smell of hamburger meat fills the air and Joel calls to you. You throw some more rings in to keep Sarah occupied and head out of the pool.

“How are these, little lady?” Joel asks as you approach

“Fantastic! Let’s put cheese on half of them.”

“You got it!”

People start to gather for food and you help Sarah dry off and get her a plate.

“Cheese or no cheese baby?” Joel asks Sarah as she approaches the grill

“Cheeeese!” She smiles, showing off her big smile to her dad

“What about you doll?” He asks you

“Same as her.”

After you eat, you wait a while to get back in the pool. You lay out with a few of the girls from the neighborhood Wine Club. As you chat, Joel admires the way the sun glimmers off your body. With most of the food served, Joel joins his daughter in the pool. You watch as he takes off his shirt, gawking over his bare chest. His shoulders cut into his neck so sharp and clean and you can help but want to feel how strong he is. And You smirk to yourself, happy to finally see him exactly how you wanted to. And he looks damn good in his turquoise-green trunks.

“I’ll be right back…” you excuse yourself, striding over to Joel, swaying your hips

“Can I get you a drink? I’m getting another beer, and maybe one of those brownies I heard about.”

“Oh I want one!” Sarah exclaims

“If you get out you’re getting more sunscreen on ya babe..” Joel promises

“She can bring me one and I can eat in the pool!”

“No, no baby. C’mon.” He argues, lifting Sarah out of the pool and onto the pavement.

“Awww!” Sarah whines, swinging her arms and legs.

You hold her hand and take her to the food, you grab a towel, wrap her in it and get her a small plate. You place a brownie on it and hand it to her.

“Can I have two?” She bats her eyes

“Go ask your daddy…”

She waddles over to Joel, squatting down to ask him. He rolls his eyes and nods and she trots back to you.

“He said I can!”

As the afternoon turns into evening, more and more people head back to their homes and pretty soon the sun is setting. You start to clean up, picking up plates and empty bottles and taking them inside the house.

The last few neighbors pop in to thank you and say goodbye and behind them is Joel.

“Hey…need some help?” Joel asks you

“Oh you’ve done more than enough. Y’all headed out?”

“I uh...sent Sarah home with the Adler’s. They said they’d watch her for the evening until I got back.“

“Oh! Well I would have loved to say goodbye to her.” You frown

“I bet she would have too, but she passed out on my knee even with everyone running around. Danny wanted to get his Ma home anyways…” he explains

He walks up to the kitchen counter and places a few empty beer bottles down. You smile and thank him. He helps bring in a few more bottles and follows you around with a trash bag as you pick up plates and plastic silverware. After everything is cleaned up and the pool is closed up, you and Joel head inside.

“Well I don’t wanna keep you from Sarah much longer.”

“It’s ok, unless that’s your way of kindly kicking me out, then by all means I’ll head out.” He smirks

“No no, you can stay if you like…”

“You sure?”

You nod and he closes the sliding door leading out to the pool, locking it.

“I don’t have much beer left, but you seem like a whiskey guy to me.” You imply

“I sure do.”

You pour him a glass and he leans over your counter. He smiles and he holds the glass to his lips and sips.

“I really appreciate ya Joel.”

“It’s no trouble.”

There is a brief moment of silence as you take a sip of your whiskey and gaze into his big brown eyes. You can’t help but feel he’s looking at you in the same way. A wave of desire washes over you and just as you're about to speak, possibly trying to make a move, Joel strides over to you.

“Ya know if ya ever need my help, I’ll always be willing. Whatever you need…”

“You’re too sweet Joel, I feel like I need to make it up to you.”

“Maybe you can, baby…” the words slip from his lips and steal your breath away. You gasp and move in closer to him.

“I’m sorry, can I call you baby?”

You nod wordlessly.

“Yeah? Well then baby, kiss me…”

You lean up, cupping his face and pressing his lips against your own. He holds your face in return, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks and moaning into your mouth. Your hands move to cup his neck as you move your face, deepening the kiss. Joel clutches your jaw, pulling you closer and raising you onto your tippy toes. You chuckle against him. This is finally happening. You’re finally kissing the man you’ve dreamed of. Ever since him and Sarah moved in, you have wanted him. It was no secret. Perhaps that’s why the Adler’s offered to watch Sarah. To give you this moment. And you’re ever so thankful.

Joel’s calloused palms move to your waist, slowly trailing down your body, feeling the sides of your bare skin. You hadn’t bothered putting your swim shirt back on after the pool and you were grateful. You welcome his fingers and let out a girlish giggle, his feather light touch overwhelming.

“How late do you wanna stay?”

Joel checks his watch. It’s 8:10.

“I told the Adlers I would be back by 9 so I mean…is that enough time for you…”

“I’ll take whatever you give me.” You smile against his face, kissing his cheek.

With that he returns his mouth to your own and he moves to cup under your shorts. He squeezes your ass and moves his hands under your thighs. In one swift motion he picks you up and is moving you both to your couch. You and him stumble into it and he sits down with you on his lap. You gasp and pull back.

“Ok that was fucking hot Miller, my god could you get any sexier.”

“You know what’s sexy…” he implies, pulling on the front of your bikini top, snapping the strap

“You like it?”

“You look like an absolute snack in this thing darling. And your ass, fuck I couldn’t stop looking at it by the pool.” he pants

“Glad you noticed. I was trying to impress you if you didn’t pick up on that when I told you.”

“Oh I did, and it worked. It definitely worked.” He sighs, sealing his words with another searing kiss.

You rock against him as his mouth moves with yours. You simply can’t get enough of him like this and he desperately wants to devour you. His hands wrap around your back, pulling you flush against his chest. He moves to squeeze your ass again, fingers dancing underneath your jeans. He grabs and gropes you, causing you to whine and whimper into his mouth.

“I love those pretty little noises you make, baby. I can’t wait to hear what other noises you make for me.” He whispers

He pulls at the hem of your jeans, tugging on them until they slide down your ass. You stand up, pulling them down your smooth legs. He starts rubbing the back of your thighs, moving his hands up and down and settling them underneath the cheek of your ass. He pulls your waist close to his face, your pelvis practically grinding up against his nose and lips. You delicately place your hands on his shoulders as he admires you.

“Let me see that cute little ass of yours again, babydoll”

Then suddenly you are spun around and he grips the strings of your bikini bottoms slowly pulling them down. As he does, he kisses the bear skin that’s being revealed to him until his lips are consuming your ass. You let out a sigh, arching your back slightly as his mouth finds your core. He dives in, placing his hands on the meat of your ass and nuzzling into your cheeks. His soft lips began to kiss your folds, and you buck up against his face. He growls against you, groping your cheeks and diving in to taste you. His mouth and tongue finds your clit and he begins to lap at it. He’s so hungry for you. So desperate to drink up your juices like a sweet nectar. Your legs quiver slightly and Joel notices. He wraps his hands around the front of your thighs, steadying you , while simultaneously pulling you closer to his mouth. He pulls back quickly, replacing his mouth with his fingers. He rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves feverishly, cooing as you moan and whine.

“Tastes so good. So fucking good baby.” He whispers.

He mouths at your pussy, his saliva mixing with your juices, making you so wet. You’re throbbing into his mouth and he places a few chase kisses to your cunt, before pulling away. He takes his shirt off and tosses it aside. He gives your core a few more open mouth kisses then spins you around once more, and you take off your top. You slowly pull the dainty string, letting your bikini top fall off you and onto his lap. He moans, clutching the top in his hand. You move to straddle him and he tosses the top on the ground.

Before you can put your weight on him, he bucks his hips, taking his trunks off. His cock springs forward and he takes his incredible length in his hand. He slowly pumps himself and you lower your ass onto his thighs. You don’t quite sink into him yet, wanting to appreciate this moment with him. He cups your ass and you clasp the back of his neck. He leans forward to press feather light kisses along your jaw and neck. Then his actions get more aggressive as he starts to manipulate your breasts. You mewl and arch into him. Your entire body starts to slowly rock against his, teasing him with your wet core on his cock.

“Fuck I want you. I can feel ya. So wet.”

You nod, biting your lip and Joel loves his hand down in between your legs again. He plays with your clit for a moment, before sinking a finger in you. You buck up on him, and steady yourself on his shoulders. He pumps his finger into you, loving the way your heat and juices consume his digit. He adds another one, and you feel so incredibly full.

“You ready for me?” Joel murmurs against your neck.

“Mhmm, please Joel. I’ve wanted this for so long!” You gasp as he removes his fingers. He wraps his hand around his cock, guiding it to your entrance. The tip pokes in, then you engulf the rest, taking his full length in you. He lets out a staggering moan as he works his lips down to your collarbone and valley of your breasts. You move your hips, slowly grinding on his cock and your tits bounce in his face. He chuckles and looks up at you. He sits back, holding your hips as you ride him.

“Fucking look at you girl. So gorgeous my god.”

You giggle in return, feeling up your body and playing with your boobs.

“That’s it, put on a little show for me.”

You bounce on him, continuing to feel your body and then you touch your clit, swirling it around in between your fingers. You let out a long, breathy moan, tilting your head back.

“Mmm Joel, Joel Joel Joel….” You hang his name as he squeezes your ass harshly. He helps you move, shoving your body onto his cock and moving his hands to hold your hips.

“That’s it. Oh my god you’re perfect…”

You learn back slightly, rolling your hips and tummy. He splays his hands over your waist, his breath hitching. He loves watching you move. He loves how you feel and needs more. Joel moves expertly to stand up, keeping himself buried inside you and, placing you on your back, you yelp as he lays you on the couch. He dives in for your lips again. He crawls on top of you, wasting no time shoving his length into you. Cupping your face. He rocks his hips, his cock filling you up once again. He speeds up, drilling into you. Your legs fold up to your chest, giving him better access to your pussy. As he thrusts into you, his beautiful eyes meet your own, his gaze thirsty for more. He rests his forehead against you and pants.

“You close?”

“If you touch me again. Play with me a little then I’ll come… please Joel…”

“Yeah? Like this baby?”

He aggressively rubs your core, his hand in sync with his hips. You nod and let out a series of incoherent babbles. You move against his hand and cock, a pool of ecstasy filling your stomach and drowning your senses. Your heat builds and builds until you break. You clench down around him, your breath leaving you as Joel’s mouth falls onto your own. With a few more of his own pumps, his seed is spilling inside you.

“Oh shit” he curses “fuck baby it’s just you felt so good shit I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine I’m on the pill.”

“You sure it’s ok?

You nod and he kisses you deeply, lips pressing firmly on your own. You moan, holding his face.

“You just might be the most perfect thing on the planet, ya know that?”

“Whatever you say.” you chuckle

“I know this may come off as formal given what we just did, but I really wanna take you out for a drink sometime. Like an actual date. If you want?”

“Yes Joel, I’d like that very much.”

꧁•☀︎•꧂

[daeniradraconis]

Faceoff with Love - Jack Hughes

Summary: Jack Hughes. The NHL’s ultimate manwhore. King of confidence. Untouchable… or at least, that’s what he thought. Until he falls hard.

Warning: Implied sexual situations, mature language, nothing too wild or serious

Hey, lovelies! 💕 This is Jack's story, the next installment in what I’ve officially named The Hughes Effect Saga��because let’s be real, every brother deserves their own story. I couldn’t resist giving the main characters names since this universe is growing, and honestly, trying to write it without them would’ve been mission impossible. So, just a heads-up: Thea is Luke’s love interest! (Though if you’ve read Age Is Just a Number…Right?, you won’t see her mentioned there, since that one started as a standalone one-shot.) You can read this without reading Age Is Just a Number, but it definitely gives you more background on Jack's story if you do!

Not gonna lie, this one took forever to write. It ended up being 16,472 words and 42 pages in my Word doc—so, yeah… buckle up! 😅

Hope you love reading it as much as I loved writing it! ❤️

For more fun: masterlist

—-

Jack Hughes, star of the New Jersey Devils, was enjoying a normal morning—until the noises coming from his little brother Luke’s room hijacked his thoughts. Jack had always been supportive of Luke, and he was genuinely happy for him. After all, Luke and his girlfriend had been through a lot—the pressures of the NHL, the relentless fans, and everything in between had made starting their relationship anything but easy. He knew how much effort they both put in to make it work, and he couldn’t help but admire them for it.

But the sounds from the next room? That was a different story. Jack tried to block it out, but it was impossible. The muffled conversations—and those other noises—had a way of seeping into his mind. It wasn’t just the invasion of privacy that bothered him, though. It was what he’d learned that really threw him off: Luke’s kink.

Some things were best left unsaid, behind closed doors. But there was Luke, sounding way too eager to ask permission for... well, things Jack had no business hearing. It was burned into his brain, and he couldn’t unhear it.

“Yeah, no. Nope. That’s it. I need to get out of here,” Jack muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

With a groan, he kicked off the covers, grabbed a hoodie from the back of the couch, and yanked it over his head. “I need bleach. For my ears. And my soul.”

A coffee shop seemed like the safest escape—loud espresso machines, the comforting scent of fresh beans… anything to erase whatever the hell he’d just overheard.

As he stepped outside, he let out a deep breath, shaking off the lingering ick of the morning. He had morning skates later anyway, so at least this way, he’d be caffeinated and mentally prepared before hitting the ice.

By the time Jack reached the coffee shop, the tension in his shoulders had finally eased, the crisp morning air doing its job in clearing his head. As he pushed open the door, the familiar chime jingled, welcoming him into the warm, cozy space. It wasn’t crowded—just a handful of people tapping away at laptops, a few others lost in their books, the low hum of conversation filling the air.

Jack stepped into line, a slow grin tugging at his lips as he took in the room. He could feel it—the shift in energy, the way conversations quieted just slightly, the not-so-subtle glances thrown his way. He walked in like he owned the place. And in a way, he kind of did. Not literally, of course, but the moment he stepped inside, it was obvious—people noticed.

A couple of girls in the corner glanced up, whispering behind their hands. The old man at the corner table did a double take. A guy in line nudged his friend, a knowing smirk passing between them. Jack thrived on it. The attention, the recognition—it was something he was used to, and he had no problem leaning into it.

His gaze swept over the room, naturally lingering on the women who were stealing glances at him. A cocky smirk curled at the corner of his lips, and just for fun, he threw in a wink. A playful smile for good measure. Yeah, he knew the effect he had. Confidence? Absolutely. Arrogance? Maybe just a little. But it was the kind of charm that turned heads, and really, who could blame him? Jack Hughes wasn’t just another guy in the crowd—he was the one people noticed.

And he loved every second of it.

Jack was used to this. It was familiar. Easy. But then—he saw her.

She wasn’t looking at him. She wasn’t whispering about him, or sneaking glances, or batting her lashes like so many others did. She was behind the counter, focused on her work, crafting drinks with effortless precision, her movements fluid and practiced. There was something about her—a quiet warmth, a presence that made the entire room feel at ease. She wasn’t just beautiful; it was the way she carried herself. Feminine yet self-assured, graceful but never trying too hard.

Jack felt it immediately—the pull. Like gravity.

His heart did this stupid little stutter, and before he even realized it, he was just standing there. Staring. What the hell?

This wasn’t him. Jack Hughes didn’t freeze up over a girl. He’d had flings, fun, no-strings-attached moments. He knew how to flirt, how to charm, how to walk away before things got complicated. But right now? None of that seemed to matter.

Get it together, Hughes, he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to look away.

But then, as if she’d felt his gaze, she looked up. Their eyes met.

And in that instant, something shifted.

It was subtle. Electric. She had this knowing look on her face, like she could see right through him. Like she already had him figured out before he could even open his mouth.

And for the first time in a long time, Jack Hughes wasn’t the one in control.

Jack leaned on the counter, trying to play it cool, but he couldn’t shake the pull he felt toward her. When she finally looked up, their eyes met, and for a second, the usual confidence he wore like a second skin seemed to fade.

She raised an eyebrow as she set her hands on the counter, a half-smirk forming on her lips. "Can I help you?"

Jack blinked, catching himself. "Uh, that depends. You serving coffee... or are you in the business of making guys fall in love too?" he said with a grin, though it came out a little less smooth than he intended.

She didn’t even flinch. "Just coffee. And bad pickup lines? They cost extra."

Jack chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ouch. Brutal." He leaned in, dropping the cocky act just a little. "Alright, alright. I’ll take a latte. And a blueberry muffin. Gotta keep it classic, you know?"

"Classic? More like predictable," she replied, tossing a glance over her shoulder as she started on his drink.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You analyzing me now?"

She didn’t even look at him as she spoke. "Not really. Just guessing you’re the type who thinks a smirk and a couple of cheesy lines will get you anything you want."

Jack froze for a moment, a little taken aback. "Whoa, right in the heart," he said, putting his hand over his chest in mock offense.

She didn’t even look at him this time. "You’ll survive. Might even build some character," she added casually as she reached for the milk steamer.

Jack smirked, his confidence flickering back. "Character, huh? I’ve got plenty. Some might even say too much."

She glanced up then, eyes dancing with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "Yeah? And who exactly are these 'some'?"

He leaned in a little closer, almost leaning on the counter now. "Oh, you know... fans, teammates, my mom... definitely my mom." He winked.

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head, her fingers expertly crafting the latte. "Uh-huh. Sure, sounds legit."

Jack leaned back a bit, watching her. There was something about how she didn’t let him off the hook. It was... refreshing. "So what’s it gonna take?" he asked, trying to play it cool again.

"For what?" She finally met his gaze, eyebrows raised.

"For you to admit you’re already a little bit in love with me," he said with a teasing grin, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She slid his drink across the counter without a hint of hesitation. "Jack Hughes, right?"

His grin widened. "So you do know me."

"Oh, I know of you," she said, turning away to grab a napkin, clearly unfazed. "You’re a good player."

Jack straightened up, puffing out his chest. "Great player," he corrected her, but his tone was light, playful.

She looked over her shoulder, deadpan. "On the ice."

Jack laughed softly, the sting of her words taking a second to hit. "Damn, alright. Tough crowd."

She smiled, but it wasn’t the soft, flirty smile he expected. It was knowing. Like she already saw right through him. "Seen your type before. You walk in, flash a smile, throw out a line or two, and think the world’s just gonna roll over for you."

Jack leaned in again, his grin slipping into something more genuine. "And yet, here you are... still talking to me. Guess you must like it."

She hummed, considering this, before turning back to the machine. "Or maybe I just like watching a guy slowly realize he’s not as smooth as he thinks he is."

Jack’s smirk returned, and he picked up his drink. "So this is how it’s gonna be, huh?"

She winked, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Oh, Hughes. You have no idea."

He laughed, shaking his head as he grabbed his muffin. "I’ve got to run. Practice later... but I’ll be back. You’re an interesting one." He winked, letting the last word linger a little longer than usual.

“Do not threaten me, Hughes,” she shot back, her voice dry but that little smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Jack turned to leave, his mind still buzzing from their conversation. He could feel her eyes on his back as he walked out the door, but this time, it wasn’t the usual adrenaline of a win. It was something else.

Maybe... just maybe, she was right. He was used to being in control, but with her? Yeah, she wasn’t having any of it.

—

The ice cream shop had a laid-back atmosphere, with a few customers scattered across the tables, quietly enjoying their frozen treats. The soft hum of conversation blended with the occasional clink of spoons against bowls and the low buzz of the freezer in the corner. The casual, easygoing vibe was the perfect backdrop for Jack to make his usual, attention-grabbing announcement.

“So, I met a girl,” he said casually, his grin practically glowing with satisfaction.

Luke didn’t even look up, already bracing himself for whatever absurdity was coming. Jack had that look—an announcement, followed by something outlandish. Thea, however, shot him a pointed glance, arching a brow in that skeptical way she did so well.

“Oh, here we go,” she muttered, barely containing her amusement.

Jack scoffed. “Wow, way to be supportive.”

Thea smirked, scooping a spoonful of chocolate ice cream into her mouth. “No, it’s just... every time you drop that line, I know I’m about to hear some delusional story about how she’s already swooning over you.” She shrugged with a grin. “Which, let’s be honest, is usually true. Flash that smile, and bam! Girls are basically tripping over themselves for you.”

Jack leaned back, clearly relishing the attention. “Exactly. It’s a gift.”

Thea rolled her eyes and casually tossed her hair over her shoulder. “No, it’s just an ego boost. You’re like a baby with a bottle—constantly sucking up the attention.”

Jack, looking entirely unbothered, twirled his spoon. “Can you blame me? I mean, why not appreciate what I’ve got?”

Luke looked up now, giving Jack a resigned look. He was ready for the same tired routine. “Jack, have you ever thought that maybe—just maybe—not every girl is going to fall for your whole act?”

Jack shot him a glance like he’d just suggested the most absurd thing. “Why would I think that? It’s never happened.” He paused, then added with a touch of uncertainty, “Okay, she’s a tough one, but she’ll come around. I think she just likes to play hard to get.” He could see the truth in her eyes—she wasn’t interested—but admitting that wasn’t an option. Not with his brother and Thea around.

Thea snorted, clearly amused. “Oh, the delusion’s strong with this one.”

Jack leaned forward slightly, tapping his fingers on the table with a confident smirk. “I’m not delusional, I’m just a realist. And the reality is... I’m me.” He paused for effect. “And I don’t lose.”

Thea let out a dramatic laugh, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Jack frowned, confused. “What’s so funny?”

Thea took another bite of her cone, her grin widening. “You. Thinking you’re untouchable. I love the confidence, but one day, some girl’s going to make you look like a fool.”

Jack scoffed, shaking his head. “Please. Do you have any idea how many girls would kill for a shot with me? I could walk out of here and just point at someone, and they'd be all over me.”

Luke, who had been watching the exchange unfold, finally spoke up. “Yeah, except for this one. I’m guessing she’s got a little more sense than that.”

Jack groaned, dramatically rubbing his face with his hand and shooting Luke an exasperated "you little shit" look. “Oh, come on. You make it sound like I don’t have options. I’m Jack Hughes guys—the same guy who got a date with three different girls at last week’s game.”

Thea rolled her eyes again. “Oh yeah, that’s really a sign of emotional maturity.” She shot Luke a knowing look.

Luke just smiled faintly, shaking his head. “If Jack’s ego ever took a hit, we'd probably need a whole therapy session.”

Jack flashed a smug grin, fully aware they were kind of right. “Ego? What ego? I’m just stating the facts.”

Thea leaned in, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Sure. State your facts. But you’re missing one thing, Jack.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what’s that?”

She tilted her head, clearly loving the moment. “This girl doesn’t want you.”

Jack’s smile faltered just a touch, but he quickly recovered. “Everybody wants me.”

Thea shook her head, the smirk never leaving her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but Jack jumped in before she could.

“Okay, maybe except you!” He threw his hands up in mock frustration. “But that’s not my charm’s fault. You just have a thing for younger guys, so I never stood a chance. You pedo…”

Thea’s cheeks flushed, and she slapped his arm lightly, her voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Jack, you can’t call me that, you arrogant prick! Show some respect to your elders!”

Jack smirked, unfazed. “Oh, yes, yes… sorry, Ms. Senior Citizen.”

Luke chuckled softly, shaking his head. He couldn’t help but be impressed with how Thea had grown into herself. At first, their six-year age gap had made her uneasy, but Jack, being Jack, never passed up a chance to remind her of it. Luke knew Jack played this game on purpose—his teasing made Thea realize the age gap wasn’t as big of a deal as she’d thought. And over time, she’d become more confident, even starting to enjoy Jack’s dark humor. Of course, she’d never admit it, and Luke was thankful for that. Jack didn’t need any more ego boosts.

“This is going to be a disaster,” Luke muttered under his breath, as if preparing himself for the inevitable chaos. It wasn’t a prediction—it was a certainty. Jack wasn’t going to let this girl slip away, he new that.

Jack waved him off, though his signature, idiotic grin only grew wider. “Relax, Lukey. I’m unstoppable. She’s going to like me. Trust me.”

Luke sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers pressing against his temples as he massaged his forehead. “Ohhh, this is going to be such a disaster.”

Jack finished off his ice cream, still blissfully unaware of the train wreck he was about to walk into. “You two are the worst. But mark my words, she’s going to like me.”

Thea winked at him. “No, we’re just not here to feed your delusion, Jacky. You could use a reality check every once in a while.”

Jack rolled his eyes, the mischievous grin still tugging at his lips. “You know what, Lukey? Maybe you should upgrade her to someone a little younger…”

“JACK!” Luke and Thea shouted in unison, but Jack only laughed, clearly finding his own joke far too hilarious.

— 

Jack pushed open the door to the coffee shop, the familiar chime of the bell ringing through the night air, but tonight, it sounded more hollow than usual.

It was late—too late—the kind of late when the world seems to shrink into itself, wrapped in the silence of the night. The air carried the warm scent of coffee and sweet pastries, but Jack barely noticed. His mind was still spinning from the game. The Devils had lost, and his mood mirrored the dark sky outside—heavy, empty, and far too cold. Yet, despite the bitterness of defeat lingering in his chest, there was something else that kept nagging at him.

He wanted to see her.

The girl behind the counter.

It was absurd, he knew. He didn’t even know her name. But ever since the game ended—ever since he’d sat in the locker room, listening to Nico’s half-hearted attempts at positivity—his thoughts kept drifting back to her. Why? It didn’t make sense.

He glanced around, expecting the usual warmth and buzz of conversation that made the place feel so cozy. But tonight was different.

The lights were dim, and the usual chatter had faded—most likely because it was just two minutes to closing, and the last of the customers had trickled out.

Jack’s eyes immediately found her behind the counter. The girl from before.

The moment she saw him, her expression shifted, just slightly—a brief flicker of annoyance before her face went completely neutral. He could tell she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him, especially not this late.

Jack leaned against the counter, flashing his trademark easy smile. “Hey there.”

She looked up, the briefest flicker of recognition crossing her face before it disappeared. She sighed quietly, clearly not in the mood. "You again," she muttered under her breath, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "What do you want this time?"

Jack grinned, undeterred by her tone. “Actually, I realized I never got your name last time.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Seriously? You came all the way back just for my name?” She paused, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I must be pretty special, huh?”

Jack shrugged like it was no big deal. “Guess I was too busy trying to charm you last time. But hey, I did promise I’d come back.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “So now that I’m here… what’s your name?”

She rolled her eyes but grabbed some fresh milk from under the counter. “It’s Anja,” she said flatly.

Jack raised an eyebrow, as if savoring the name. “Anja, huh? Definitely sounds foreign.”

Anja shot him a dry look, hands almost slamming the milk into the fridge. “Yep. My dad’s German, my mom’s from New Jersey. Pretty exotic, right?”

Jack’s grin faltered for a moment, surprised. “Wait—your dad’s from Germany? That’s… interesting.” He paused, then added with a laugh. “That’s one combo I didn’t expect. My buddy Nico’s German too. He was born in Switzerland.”

Anja froze, staring at him. Then blinked slowly. “Wait—what?”

Jack, clearly proud of his random connection, rushed on, oblivious to her confusion. “Yeah, Nico’s our captain, super chill guy. Always telling me I should visit him in Switzerland one summer. We haven’t done it yet, but maybe next year. He’s like a brother to me, honestly. Don’t tell my real brothers, though—they’d flip. They get jealous if I even mention Nico.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, already knowing Jack had a habit of overestimating the significance of himself. She stared at him for a moment, then couldn’t help it—she burst into laughter. “No, Jack… Switzerland’s not in Germany!” She bent forward slightly, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

Jack blinked, feeling a little foolish, but he wasn’t about to back down. “What? It’s a county in Germany, right? Somewhere near... uh, Munich…?”

Anja’s eyes widened, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. She let out a laugh, half-pitying, half-astonished. “Oh my God, Hughes. Switzerland and Germany are two completely different countries.” She shook her head slowly, as if he’d just told her the Earth was flat. “You’re telling me your best friend’s from Switzerland, and you have no idea where the hell is that? Seriously, could you be more American?”

Jack winced, but a grin quickly crept back onto his face, clearly unbothered by his own ignorance. “Hey, don’t forget, you’re half American too, so no need to get all high and mighty on me.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, her grin widening as she crossed her arms.“Sweetie, you’re the one who thought Switzerland was a county.”

Jack shrugged with a playful grin, raising his hands in mock surrender, his smile never faltering. “Alright, fine. But I’ll take this as a win. I’ve officially upgraded to the ‘sweetie’ category.”

Anja shook her head, still chuckling at his relentless self-confidence. “A lost cause, Hughes. That’s what you are… a lost cause.” She gave him an exasperated look, but the corner of her mouth quirked up. “Maybe try opening some books next time. Girls like guys with an actual brain.”

Jack waved it off dismissively. “I’ll let you know I do read. But yeh my brother Quinn is the nerd. Seriously bookish. Let me tell you, it’s not helping him. He’s got zero game.”

Anja flashed a playful grin and leaned in closer, the sudden proximity making Jack’s heart skip a beat. Her perfume—a fresh, orange scent that reminded him of a rain-drenched forest—hit him like a bolt of lightning. It was warm, feminine, and intoxicating. He couldn’t help but notice the way the scent seemed to pull him closer, but he did his best to keep it together.

She lowered her voice just enough to make him focus. “Or maybe... he’s just a normal guy who doesn’t want every woman’s panties to drop the second he meets them.”

Jack swallowed, his eyes flicking to her mouth, noticing the way her lips parted just slightly as she spoke. He tried to focus, but the air between them was thick with tension, the heat of her so close to him throwing him off. “Or maybe…” He leaned in, his voice dropping low, his words teasing as his gaze lingered on her lips. “He just overthinks everything. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow in life, you know?”

Anja shook her head with a soft smile, muttering under her breath as she crossed her arms. “As I said, lost cause,” she added, only half-amused, half-exasperated.

Jack laughed, relieved she was still in the game. He gave her a wink, the confidence in his smile almost irresistible. “But a charming, good-looking, lost cause, right?”

Anja rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips and the amusement in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t really bothered. Her eyes briefly caught his, and for the first time, she noticed how his blue eyes weren’t just any shade—they had this grayish undertone that made them look almost stormy. It was enough to make her pause for a moment, but she snapped back to the banter with a playful glint. “You really should’ve opened a geography book sometime. You can’t disrespect your friend this much. At least learn the basics about the poor guy’s life if you want to be his bestie.”

Jack’s grin widened as he leaned in, his light brown wavy hair falling slightly into his eyes, his expression a mix of challenge and charm. “Hey—I’d happily let you teach me about Switzerland... or anything else. To be fair, I’d let you do anything with me.”

Anja let out a breathless laugh at his boldness, shaking her head, but her eyes softened as she met his gaze. “Yeah, keep dreaming, Jack.”

Jack winked. “Believe me I will. But seriously—just give me a chance. Let me prove myself to you.” Anja rolled her eyes again, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “Whatever, Jack. You can beg, but the answer is still no.”

Jack didn’t hesitate. The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning, and before he could second-guess himself, he dropped to his knees with all the dramatic flair he could muster, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

Anja froze, her eyes wide, the mug she’d been about to place on the shelf still dangling in mid-air. “What the hell are you doing?!” she asked, her voice a mix of confusion and something else—amusement, maybe. It was hard to tell.

Jack tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes, still kneeling with a grin that stretched wider. “You said I can beg, but I wasn’t really begging yet, was I? Let me show you just how good I can be at it.” He fluttered his lashes and gave her the full-on puppy-dog eyes, cranking up the charm.

Anja stared at him for a solid minute, her brain clearly processing the absurdity of the situation. Then, as if a switch had flipped, she burst out laughing. “You’re insane,” she said, shaking her head, stepping back like she needed to regain some personal space from this level of ridiculousness.

Jack, still on his knees, leaned in a bit closer with dramatic theatrics, his grin widening. He clasped his hands together like he was about to give a TED talk.

"Anja, hear me out," he began, voice dripping with over-the-top sincerity. "I know you think I’m a lost cause, but I’m not just any lost cause. I’m your lost cause. And let me tell you why."

He paused for effect, then continued, ticking off his points like a lawyer making a case. "First off, I’m a party. You want a good time? I’m your guy. I can keep things fun, always ready for an adventure, never a dull moment."

He held up a finger, ready to deliver his second point. "Next, I’m a manwhore. And I know what you’re thinking—‘Jack, that sounds bad!’ But no, hear me out. Being a manwhore means experience. I know how to make people laugh, I know how to charm, I know how to—" He shot her a wink. "Well, I know how to do a lot of things. So... experience? Check."

Jack then leaned back dramatically, spreading his arms out. "And, let’s not forget, I’m a hockey player. I’m rich, athletic, and—" he gave her a sly grin, flexing his arm slightly, "look at these muscles. I’ve got the athletic build, which means a lot of energy to spare. And when I’m not working out, I’m probably... in the kitchen making all the mistakes with cooking. And that’s actually a good thing! Because you—" he pointed at her, "You can be the queen of the kitchen, living out your baking dreams while I try not to set the stove on fire. My kitchen? Practically untouched, new condition. You can take over anytime."

Anja rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t ready for what came next. Jack, still grinning, suddenly pulled his shirt up slightly to expose a well-defined set of abs. His muscles flexed with a little extra dramatic flair. "See this?" He flexed again, holding the pose for a moment. "Hard work, dedication... and honestly, a whole lot of charm. You can’t argue with that, right?"

Anja froze, her eyes wide with disbelief. She stood there for a moment, trying to process what she was seeing, before rushing to Jack. Kneeling beside him, she reached for his shirt, fingers scrambling to grab the fabric. She shot him a look of shock. “Oh my God, Jack, put it down! This is insane.” She yanked at his shirt, but Jack grabbed her wrist. His grip was unshakable, and he used his position on the ground to keep her from pulling away.

He moved closer, a glint of mischief in his eyes, clearly enjoying every moment of his act. “I’m just proving a point. I’m the full package, Anja—athletic, a manwhore, experienced, and a terrible cook. The perfect guy to have fun!”

Anja gave him a look that was half disbelief, half amusement—as if saying, "Even you don’t believe this." She tried to pull her hand away, but Jack kept his grip tight, holding her wrist steady as his grin grew wider.

Jack shrugged, unfazed by the situation. “Alright, alright, maybe my geography’s a little off. But here’s the deal: You get to be the smart one with all the answers, and I’ll just nod and smile while you school me. It’ll be your show—I’m basically signing up to be your personal cheerleader. You’re the brains, I’ll be the brawn. Need a little backup? I’m your guy.”

Anja shot him a pointed, exasperated look, surprised but slightly amused as he kept his hold on her wrist. “So, Anja, what do you think? I’m the full package—fun, rich, athletic, kind, supportive, and amazing. What more could you possibly want?”

Despite herself, Anja laughed, though she fought to hold her composure. “This is the worst pitch I’ve ever heard in my life, Jack. Seriously, put your shirt down already.”

But Jack didn’t move an inch. "You know you want to. I’m practically giving you the world here. I can be your support, your personal cheerleader. You’ll be the brains of the relationship, and I’ll—"

"—Be the ‘muscles,’ right?" Anja interrupted, raising an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk.

"Exactly! I'll be your biggest fan, always backing you up. And hey, I’m probably the best at making people laugh too.”

Anja couldn’t help but stare at him—this insufferably stubborn, over-the-top guy—and, much to her own surprise, found herself laughing again. “Hughes, you’re a complete idiot. But fine,” she sighed, shaking her head, “I’ll give it to you—you’ve got muscles... and, I guess that counts for something?”

Jack shot her a wink. “Oh, it counts for everything, Anja. Everything. So, what do you say? One coffee, no weirdness?”

Anja hesitated, still gripping his shirt, then let out a long sigh. "Fine. One coffee. But just so we're clear, Hughes—this is strictly a friend thing. No boyfriend talk. I’m not looking for anything, and I definitely can’t handle you as my boyfriend.”

Jack released her wrist, smoothing out his shirt, his grin still in place but with a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Deal. I’ll settle for the friend date. A desperate man takes what he can get.”

Anja rolled her eyes, half amused. "Just... no flexing, alright?"

Jack chuckled, giving her a mock salute. “Alright, alright—I'll behave.”

– 

And Jack wasn't lying, about him being on his good behaviour.

He pulled up in his sleek car just as Anja finished her shift a couple days later. The neon lights of the coffee shop flickering behind her. She stepped out into the crisp evening air, shaking off the exhaustion of her shift, her apron swapped for a simple jacket. Jack leaned over from the driver’s seat, his grin wide, like a cat who’d just caught its prey.

“Ready for our coffee date, Anja?”

Anja rolled her eyes dramatically as she slid into the car, amusement flickering across her face.“It’s a friend date, Jack,” she corrected, her voice dripping with mock annoyance. “And what’s the plan? Where are we going?”

Jack’s grin widened. “Well, about that…” He gestured toward the empty streets. “It’s a bit late, and all the normal coffee shops are closed. But don’t worry, I’ve got a backup plan.”

Anja raised an eyebrow.”Yeh that's what I’m afraid of.”

“No, no. You’ll love this. Trust me.”Jack chuckled. 

A few minutes later, they pulled up to an old, charming bookstore that looked like it belonged in another era—warm light spilling from its windows, a glowing sign that read Open 24 Hours. It had the kind of inviting presence that made you want to step inside and stay awhile.

Jack parked and motioned for Anja to follow him in.

“This is… a bookstore?” she asked, her tone laced with skepticism but also curiosity. As she stepped through the door, the scent of old pages and freshly brewed coffee wrapped around her like a comforting embrace.

“Not just any bookstore,” he said, his tone teasing. “It’s got a coffee shop inside. And pastries. Perfect place for a late-night coffee date, if you ask me.” Jack flashed a smirk, leading her toward the back. “And you thought I’ve never read a book in my entire life—guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

Anja smiled sweetly, shaking her head as she followed him. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Not ridiculous. Creative,” Jack corrected with a grin. 

Inside, a barista was still serving warm drinks to a couple of late-night readers, the soft hum of conversation blending seamlessly with the crackling of an old record playing in the background. Cozy armchairs and beanbags were scattered throughout the room, creating an intimate, almost dreamlike atmosphere.

Anja glanced around, taking it all in. The soft lighting, the inviting scent of coffee and something sweet—chocolate, maybe—it all made the space feel like a quiet little world of its own. A place where time didn’t feel so urgent. “Okay… I’ll admit, this is actually kind of nice. Cozy, even.”

Jack flopped onto a nearby beanbag, a self-satisfied grin on his face. “See? You can’t always judge a book by its cover.”

Anja groaned. “You’ve been in prime form tonight, haven’t you?”

“Hey, I’ve got plenty more where that came from,” he shot back, flashing her another confident smile.

He studied her for a moment before speaking again, his tone softer. “What if we swap coffee for hot chocolate instead?” His playful edge had slipped away a little. “Figured something warm and sweet might be better this late.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden thoughtfulness. “Hmm, actually, that sounds really good. It is too late for coffee, and I could use a decent night’s sleep for once.”

Jack’s smile deepened, satisfied with her answer. “Good choice,” he said with a wink before heading to the counter.

When he came back, he wasn’t just carrying hot chocolate. Along with the two steaming mugs, he had a plate of warm pastries, their flaky layers golden and crisp. He set everything on the small coffee table between their beanbags, the sweet smell of cocoa and butter filling the air. Something about the simple gesture—just them, the warmth, the food—made the moment feel unexpectedly intimate.

Anja dropped her coat to the floor and sank into her beanbag, letting out a soft sigh as she got comfortable. Everything about this night felt softer, easier than she’d expected.

“I really wasn’t expecting this… but it’s nice.” She reached for her mug, glancing at him. “Just don’t let the compliment go to your head.”

Jack smirked as he leaned back, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “No promises.” He picked up a pastry and held it out to her. "I figured you'd appreciate a little something sweet to go with the moment."

Anja hesitated for only a second before taking the pastry. As she bit into it, the warm layers melted on her tongue, and she let out an involuntary hum of satisfaction.

“Okay,” she admitted, taking another bite. “You’re definitely not wrong about this.”

Jack watched her, the sound of her hum catching him off guard, a hint of something shifting in his chest.

As they sipped their hot chocolate the café around them felt like its own little world—soft lighting, the distant murmur of pages turning, the quiet clinking of mugs against saucers.

Anja curled deeper into her beanbag, fingers wrapped around her mug, letting its warmth seep into her hands. Jack stretched out in his seat, looking just as content, his usual energy softened.

When they finished, Jack set his mug down with a satisfied sigh and shot Anja a look. Then, without warning, he reached for her hand and pulled her up.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Anja blinked. “Go where?”

He gestured toward the shelves. “You can’t just sit in a bookstore café and not browse. That’s practically a crime.”

She huffed a laugh but let him lead her toward the towering bookshelves. As they wandered through the aisles, Anja ran her fingers over worn spines, occasionally picking up a book to flip through. Jack did the same, moving ahead of her, plucking books off the shelves without much thought.

At first, she didn’t pay much attention to his choices—until she caught a glimpse of the titles in his hands. The Odyssey. Moby Dick. War and Peace.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, staring at him like he’d just grown a second head. “War and Peace? Really?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, totally unbothered. “What? I’ve got layers, Anja. I like to read, too. Not geography books, as you already know, but serious stuff. Might surprise you.”

Anja let out a laugh, shaking her head. “You? The manwhore of the hockey world? Reading Tolstoy? I thought you were too busy with girls and hockey to have time for this kind of thing.”

Jack smirked, holding up the book like it was a trophy. “Ha ha, really funny.” He shot her a look, clearly not offended. “I’ll have you know, girls and hockey are not the only things in my brain.”

Anja scoffed, reaching out to snatch the book from his hands. She flipped it open, skimming a few pages before looking back up at him, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

“You actually read this?” she asked, holding up War and Peace like it was a foreign artifact. “Not just for, like, show?”

Jack placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Wow. Zero faith in me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, flipping through the pages. “Alright, prove it. Who’s your favorite character?”

Without missing a beat, Jack smirked. “Andrei Bolkonsky.”

Anja froze for a second, looking up from the pages, clearly thrown. “Wait, really? You’re an Andrei guy?”

Jack nodded, his expression dead serious. “What? You thought I’d say Pierre?”

“YES,” she said immediately. “Pierre’s the obvious choice. He’s way more... interesting.”

“Interesting? Pierre’s a hot mess for like, 90% of the book. The guy spends half his time getting lost, getting into trouble, and overthinking everything.”

Anja shot him a teasing glance. “Exactly. That’s what makes him interesting! He’s awkward, searching for meaning... vulnerable.”

Jack laughed, leaning closer to her. “Vulnerable? Or just indecisive? The guy can’t make a choice without spiraling.”

“That’s the whole point. He’s human. Complex.” She poked Jack’s chest with a finger, her eyes gleaming with passion as she leaned in just slightly, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth.

Jack moved closer to her, crossing his arms. “I’m sorry, but Pierre’s a disaster. Andrei knows who he is. He’s a leader, a soldier, a guy who gets things done. That’s why I like him.”

“Oh, please,” Anja scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Andrei’s the epitome of a brooding, pretentious sad boy. He spends the entire book sulking, acting like everyone else is beneath him.” She paused, a sly grin spreading across her face as if she’d just had a sudden realization. “Hmm, sounds kind of familiar, actually.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, a wide smile creeping onto his lips. “Are you calling me brooding and pretentious?”

Anja held his gaze for a beat, then shook her head. “Not exactly. But yeah, that sounds like you—at least the pretentious part. You’re not really the brooding type. You’re way too cocky for that. But I can definitely see some Andrei in you.”

Jack chuckled, a small spark flickering in his chest. He couldn’t help but like a woman who had both a strong opinion and a sharp mind. “I’m confident, not pretentious. There’s a difference. Andrei’s got his life together—he knows what he wants, he has standards, and he doesn’t just drift through life hoping things will work out. You can’t say the same about Pierre. That guy spends half the book lost in his own head, making bad decisions, and hoping the universe sorts it out for him. Andrei? He takes charge. If that’s who you’re comparing me to, I’ll take it.”

Anja shook her head, amused. “Not just that. Andrei’s just a ticking time bomb. All that ‘duty’ and ‘honor’... It’s like a mask he hides behind to avoid facing his own mess. You probably like him because, let’s face it, he’s a little bit like you in that sense as well.”

“Me? A mess? I’m hurt.” Jack let out a dramatic gasp.

Anja shrugged, a wicked grin playing on her lips. “Don’t act like it’s not true. You’re just like him. A little too obsessed with being ‘the guy who’s got it all together.’”

Jack smirked, shifting his weight casually as he placed Moby Dick back on the shelf next to them. “Andrei’s confident. I’m confident. So, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Anja raised her eyebrows. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But at least Pierre learns. He grows. Andrei? He just spends the whole book whining until—well, spoiler alert, he dies.”

Jack threw his hands up in mock disbelief, eyes wide. “Ouch. Ruthless. The guy goes through war, heartbreak, and personal tragedy, and you just—” He waved his hand dramatically. “Done. No sympathy?”

Anja grinned, flipping the book shut with a decisive motion. “Not my fault Tolstoy made him insufferable. I stand by Pierre.”

Jack looked at her, laughing in disbelief. “I can’t believe you read War and Peace and took Pierre’s side.”

Anja shot him a playful side-eye. “Oh yeah? You read it and picked Andrei. We’re clearly both making questionable decisions here.”

“I guess we can’t buddy-read Tolstoy together, huh?” Jack chuckled, shaking his head.

Anja crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Good. I’d hate to have to explain everything to you.”

“Unbelievable.” Jack let out an exaggerated sigh, while he tucked War and Peace under his arm again, giving her a teasing look. “Alright, book snob. Since you clearly think you know everything, what’s next? Are you going to try to convince me that Anna Karenina’s actions were justified?”

Anja gasped, eyes widening. “Jack. Don’t even start.”

Shaking her head, Anja grabbed a couple of books from the shelf, and Jack did the same. With their newfound selections in hand, they made their way back to their cozy beanbags. They settled in, the quiet rustle of pages filling the space between them.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Jack flipped through War and Peace, skimming familiar passages, while Anja lost herself in a biography of one of her favorite artists. The playful banter from earlier still lingered in her mind, but as she snuck a glance at Jack, something about the way he was fully immersed in his book made her pause.

She watched him for a moment, her smile softening. There was something oddly sincere about him like this—quiet, focused, different from the cocky, fast-talking guy she was so used to.

“Huh,” she murmured, more to herself than anything. “Guess I underestimated you, Jack.”

Jack didn’t look up immediately, but a slow, lazy smirk spread across his face. “It happens,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

Anja rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite to it. She turned her attention back to her book, trying to focus. But every now and then, she found herself glancing up—watching as Jack absentmindedly ran a thumb over the edge of the pages, completely absorbed in his book.

Anja took a deep breath, smiling to herself as she sank deeper into the beanbag. Maybe Jack Hughes wasn’t just a pretty face after all. And maybe, just maybe, this friend date wasn’t so bad after all.

—

Weeks passed, and what started as a single friend date grew into something neither of them had quite expected. Something real and deeper. Jack started showing up at the coffee shop every day after practice, sometimes before games, sometimes after. He’d slip in quietly, pulling his hood up, and find a corner table by the window. And there he’d stay, right where Anja could see him. It was like a routine now, something familiar and comforting.

He’d sit there, watching her work, the steady hum of the café filling the space between them as he lazily flipped through a book. On quieter days, when Anja wasn’t rushing from table to table, Jack would start talking—about hockey, the latest game, or whatever TV show had caught his attention. Their conversations stretched beyond the usual small talk. They argued about politics, books, their childhood, even their biggest fears. Jack was always challenging the way she thought about things, pushing her to question what she believed. And though it sometimes annoyed her, Anja couldn’t deny that she actually enjoyed it.

She began to appreciate the complexity in him, the layers behind the cocky smile and careless attitude. It wasn’t just the light teasing that made her laugh. It was the way he could discuss some silly tv show one minute and then dive into a heated debate about the latest political news the next. And sometimes, when their conversations would die down, Jack would pull out a book, burying himself in it while Anja went about her work. They’d fall into a comfortable silence, the kind only true friends could share.

More and more, Anja found herself looking forward to seeing Jack walk in. There was something about him that made everything feel a little more relaxed.

It wasn’t long before their friendship spilled over into texts. Casual check-ins after games, long messages about something that had made them laugh, or a random book recommendation. Anja, to her own surprise, found herself enjoying it. She’d thought it would be strange, having Jack’s name constantly flashing on her phone, but it wasn’t. It was… nice. She wasn’t sure when the shift happened, but somewhere between the books they’d shared, the heated debates, and the quiet moments spent together, Jack had become a friend in a way she hadn’t expected.

And now, as she glanced over at him, sitting in his usual spot, flipping through pages of Inferno by Dante, she couldn’t help but smile. 

Then, as she turned to take an order at the counter, she heard laughter from across the café. She didn’t even need to look to know what was happening. Jack, as usual, had charmed a group of older ladies sitting near the pastry case.

“Oh, come on, Marge,” he said, grinning at one of them as he leaned casually on the counter. “You can’t tell me you weren’t a heartbreaker back in the day. I bet you had all the boys lined up.”

Marge, a widow in her seventies who came in every morning with her two best friends, waved him off with a playful scoff. “Oh, hush, you flirt. You’re just trying to sweet-talk me into buying you a cookie.”

Jack gasped dramatically, but his confident smile was still on his face. “Marge, I would never!”

Anja, overhearing the entire exchange as she filled a coffee cup, tried—and failed—to stifle a laugh. She bit her lip, shaking her head as Jack continued his antics, effortlessly charming the older women like he was born to do it.

But then, when his gaze flickered back to Anja, something changed. The easy, flirtatious grin softened. His shoulders relaxed. He still had that effortless confidence, that natural charm, but when it was just the two of them, it was different. He didn’t need to perform. He let Anja see something deeper—something quieter, more thoughtful.

She walked past his table, setting down a fresh cup of coffee without him even asking. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she murmured, shaking her head.

Jack just smirked up at her, his voice dropping into something softer, something just for her. “Yeah, but you like it.”

Anja rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue. Because maybe, just maybe, he was right.

– 

Jack hated these nights.

Another brutal loss. Another night of feeling like the weight of the entire team was sitting on his chest. With Nico out, the pressure had been on him to step up, to push the team to a win. And he tried. He fucking tried. But it wasn’t happening.

And to make matters worse, the apartment wasn’t exactly peaceful.

A muffled whimper filtered through the wall. Then another. Then—Jesus Christ.

Jack clenched his jaw and rolled onto his stomach, shoving his pillow over his head as if that would help. Spoiler: it didn’t.

Luke and Thea were home. And happy. And apparently, they had absolutely no concept of thin walls.

And maybe Jack was just being petty, but it was hard not to feel... left out. Especially when he remembered how he’d been on with Anja these past few weeks.

Jack had never experienced a true friendship with a woman, but Anja was different. From the start, she made it clear that she only saw him as a friend—and that was fine with him. At first, he struggled to accept it, but over time, things shifted. They grew closer, spending hours together, laughing, talking, and sharing moments. Jack found himself explaining the New Jersey Devils to her—a tough task, especially since she was a Bruins fan and knew next to nothing about his team. Patience wasn’t his strong suit, and the fact that she didn’t seem to care made it even harder to keep his cool. Still, he couldn’t help but respect that she wasn’t one of those girls who swooned over him. It was... refreshing.

But still... there were nights, like tonight, when it hit him.

He couldn’t deny it—he was drawn to her. He loved their friendship, no question, but deep down, there was always that something more. That unspoken tension, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged. He wasn’t ready to face it. Jack didn’t do love. It was just sexual tension, he told himself. It couldn’t be anything more. After all, Anja was a beautiful, young woman, and he was a ridiculously good-looking athlete. Of course, they had chemistry. But that’s all it was. 

And then there were nights like this, where his mind wandered off course, and instead of texting her—because that would be weird—he went back to his old habits. Hook-ups. Quick distractions. Just something to get his mind off things.

So, he picked up his phone and fired off a few texts. It was easier this way, he told himself. 

It wasn’t like he wanted anything serious with anyone else. He wasn’t looking for that. But sometimes, he just needed a reminder that he could still get attention from people. He still had that pull. Even if Anja didn’t feel the same way.

He knew what he was doing wasn’t exactly healthy. But it was easier than dealing with the things that really mattered.

Five weeks since he’d met her. Four weeks since she had completely turned his world upside down. But that wasn’t her fault. He was the one who couldn’t seem to figure things out.

His phone buzzed almost immediately. But it wasn’t the message he was expecting.

A: Hey, Prince Charming.

Jack smirked, running a hand through his hair as he read the text. The nickname had started after their first friend date, when she’d looked at him with that amused glint in her eye and said he reminded her of a fairytale prince—all looks, maybe not completely dumb, but let’s be honest, not that smart either. He should’ve been offended, but for some reason, he fucking loved it when she called him that.

Another buzz.

A: So, that was a really shitty game. You sucked today.

Jack barked out a laugh. Jesus. He loved that this woman didn’t hold back. Everyone else always tried to phrase it in a way that wouldn't bruise his ego. Not Anja. She came at him full force.

J: Wow. Don’t hold back or anything.

A: I don’t do sugarcoating. You were bad. Like, painfully bad.

J: Yeah, yeah. I know. Thanks for the reminder.

A: Anytime, Hughes.

Jack shook his head, still smiling as he stared at the screen. His other texts—the ones he’d sent out looking for a distraction—were sitting there, unread. He didn’t even feel like checking them anymore. Instead, he rolled onto his side, typing out another response.

J: So what, you just text me to roast me, or are you actually gonna make me feel better?

A: Oh, I was getting there. You’re a disaster, but at least you’re a pretty disaster.

J: Pretty disaster, huh? Wow, really boosting my confidence here.

Jack rolled his eyes, but a small smile spread across his face.

A: You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do. You looked so sad out there today, I felt bad for you.

J: I don’t need pity. I need sleep.

He ran a hand through his hair, irritation creeping back in. The game had been brutal, and now he was staring at the ceiling again, the exhaustion weighing on him. Tomorrow’s practice would be hell if he didn’t get some sleep. His body was already aching from the game, and now this.

A: Oh, so now you want sympathy? Make up your mind, Hughes.

J: I’m just saying, I’m exhausted. And I’ve got thin walls here—Luke and Thea are having the time of their life, and I can’t escape it. I’ve tried everything. Nothing works.

A: Ah, poor thing. Just not jealous?

J: Trust me, the last thing I want to do right now is stick my dick in anybody. I don’t even know how Lukey does it. Guess being young helps… Maybe Thea was right about that stamina thing...

A: Jesus Jack! You really don’t have a filter. TMI! But…Well… I mean, if you need a place to crash, my couch is always available.

J: Wait, seriously?

Jack paused, blinking at his phone. He wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or serious. But there was a part of him that was already considering it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a night to himself that didn’t end with him staring at the ceiling.

A: Yeah, I’m serious. We’re friends. Even if this is painful for me to admit. And I live basically 10 minutes from you. Just come over.

J: …Wait, you actually want me to crash at your place?

A: Just don’t make me regret this, Prince Charming!

Jack chuckled. This… this was definitely unexpected.

J: Alright, fine. I’ll take you up on the offer. Thanks, Anja!

—

Jack stepped into Anja’s apartment, every muscle in his body groaning in protest.

His legs ached from the game, his mind was a chaotic mess, but right now, all he could think about was sleep. Real sleep. Not the restless, half-conscious tossing and turning that had been his last few nights. He needed to crash—hard.

And then he saw her.

Anja stood in the soft glow of the apartment, wearing loose, dark pajamas, her hair twisted up in a messy bun. No makeup, no effort—just her. Effortlessly beautiful, untouched by the outside world.

Jack’s brain stalled for a second.

How the hell was she this attractive without even trying?

He shook the thought away. It was exhaustion, right? Had to be. She was just… Anja. He was too damn tired to think straight.

So, Jack did what any man on the brink of collapse would do—he went straight for the bed, flopping face-first onto the mattress without asking.

Behind him, Anja leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. “You know the rules. Couch.”

Jack groaned into the pillow. “Anja. Please. My body is broken. My soul is hanging by a thread. And that couch? That couch is where souls go to die.”

Anja snorted. “You’ll survive.”

Jack rolled onto his side, his eyes heavy with tiredness, but he still managed to give her a slow, teasing glance. "You’re seriously gonna make me crash out there when there’s a whole king-sized bed right here?" He patted the mattress like it was the most inviting thing in the world. "Come on, that’s practically a crime against humanity."

Anja lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “You are humanity’s crime.”

Jack grinned. “Thank you.”

She sighed, rubbing her temple like she was already regretting every life decision that had led to this moment.

Jack pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Alright. Let’s make a deal. I’ll do anything. Literally anything. Name it.”

Anja smirked. “Anything?”

Jack nodded solemnly.

“I want—” she paused for dramatic effect “—a New York Rangers jersey.”

Jack’s face twisted in disbelief. “Okay, that’s just plain evil, darling.”

Anja smirked, knowing full well how much Jack loathed the Rangers. Her hockey knowledge was avarage, but she was well aware of the hostility between Jack’s team and their biggest rival.

Jack exhaled in frustration, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, new offer: I’ll make you breakfast.”

Anja let out a short laugh. “You can’t cook, Jacky. That’s basically a threat, not an offer.”

“Incorrect,” Jack said, giving her a playful look as he pointed at her.“I can cook. I just choose not to.”

Anja stared at him, unamused.

“Okay, fine,” Jack groaned, his hands raised in mock surrender. “I can make breakfast. Still counts.”

“That’s just eggs. And even those are awful,” Anja remarked dryly.

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, still technically breakfast.”

“Anja,” he said, voice grave. “I am a man at his lowest. My body is failing me, my will to live is fading, and you—” he pointed dramatically at her “—have the power to save me.”

Anja blinked at him, unimpressed. “You are so dramatic.”

Jack pressed a hand to his chest. “I prefer passionate.”

She rolled her eyes again, exhaling like this whole act was physically draining her, and for a second, Jack thought she was going to send him to the couch anyway. But then she let out a long, resigned sigh, shaking her head like she already regretted it.

“One night,” she said, pointing at him sharply. “And no funny business.”

Jack shot up like he’d just been given a second lease on life, already pulling off his hoodie as he practically dove under the covers. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Anja muttered something under her breath about regretting this already, flicking off the light as she climbed into bed beside him.

Jack exhaled as his body sank into the mattress, tension bleeding from his muscles. But just as his brain started to shut down, he caught it—her scent.

That unmistakable mix of orange and peppermint.

It was everywhere. In the sheets, in the pillows, in the air itself, wrapping around him and settling into his skin like a slow, creeping warmth he hadn’t been expecting.

His body relaxed instantly, but his mind? His mind did the opposite.

He wasn’t sure why this felt different. Why she felt different. Why, after all the nights spent in beds that weren’t his, this—lying next to Anja, stealing her blankets, breathing in the scent of orange and peppermint—was the only thing that had ever felt right.

He hated how much he liked it.

Jack turned his head toward her, voice low, teasing. “You know, if you let me stay in this bed again, I’ll compose an original poem just for you.”

Anja groaned. “Shut up, Hughes!”

Jack grinned. “A sonnet, actually. Or maybe a haiku—short and sweet. You know, something like—” He cleared his throat, pretending to get serious before continuing, “Shall I compare thee to—”

Anja rolled over, cutting him off by slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Enough,” she murmured, her voice light but warm, with a hint of something almost... hesitant.

Jack blinked up at her, his lips still pressed against her palm. The room felt different all of a sudden, as if the air had thickened. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe something else entirely, but the shift between them was unmistakable.

Neither of them moved for a moment.

Jack could feel the heat of her skin against his face, and saw how her breathing slowed just a fraction, like she had only just realized how close they were. He should say something, crack a joke, break the silence. But for once, he didn’t.

And then—because he was Jack—he wiggled his eyebrows.

Anja blinked at him, like she was snapping out of a daze, and pulled her hand away, rolling onto her side. “You’re such a pain.”

Jack chuckled, stealing half the blanket. “And yet, here I am, still in this bed.”

Anja rolled her eyes, pulling her blanket back. “You’re lucky I’m not making you sleep on the couch. And honestly, how do you know what a haiku is? You didn’t even know that Germany and Switzerland were two different countries.”

Jack groaned, but the smile never left his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly. “I’m misunderstood,” he muttered, like he was truly burdened by it.

Anja laughed softly, the sound light and warm in the dim room. “Yeah, the real mystery, Jack Hughes. You’re dumb enough to confuse countries, but you’re cultured enough to drop haiku on me.”

“Hey,” Jack said, lifting his head and squinting at her with a playful grin, “I’m a complex man. Who loves literature.”

She rolled her eyes once more, but a smile played at the corners of her lips. “And that’s exactly what makes you so damn annoying.”

Jack smirked, sinking back into the pillows. “Glad to see you recognize my complexity.”

Anja sighed, still facing away, though Jack could feel the faint shake of her shoulders as she tried to stifle a laugh. “You really think you’ve won, don’t you?”

Jack relaxed into the bed, the warmth of her body and the soft sound of her laughter soothing him. “Oh, I know I have.”

Anja scoffed, but Jack could hear the smile in her voice. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Jack smirked, his eyes fluttering closed. “Oh, I will.”

—

Jack sat at the kitchen table, staring down at his coffee like it owed him money. His head was pounding, and the goddamn world seemed way too fucking chipper for his liking. His body was sore as hell from practice, but it was nothing compared to the frustration buzzing through his brain.

“You’re a ray of sunshine today, Jacky,” Thea chirped as she walked in, pressing a kiss to Luke’s head. Of course, Luke had to shoot her a goofy grin, like he was a damn golden retriever. Ugh. Disgusting.

“Shut up, pedo,” Jack mumbled, trying to sip his coffee without gagging. He didn’t care if his tone was off. He wasn’t here for their bullshit today.

Luke rolled his eyes, totally unfazed. “What the hell happened to you, man? You were all full of energy this morning—like, bouncing off the walls—and now you're just... this.” He gestured at Jack, who was hunched over the table like he was already dead inside.

Jack snorted, clearly not in the mood for a pep talk. “Maybe I’m just tired of people asking me why I’m an asshole. Get a new hobby.”

Yeah, Luke was right. He knew that. But honestly? He had way bigger problems right now. Like, Anja.

This morning had started off like some cheesy rom-com, and Jack was seriously starting to panic about it. He woke up, and there she was—her small, warm body tangled up in his, all soft and perfect. For a split second, he actually thought about kissing her—maybe snuggling, maybe even making her coffee. What the hell? When had he become the type of guy who fantasized about making coffee for someone? What was next, brunch? Fucking brunch?!

But, of course, it wasn’t until he was changing out of his hockey gear, post-practice, that he realized what a weird thought that was. He wasn’t exactly known for catching on to things quickly. He knew his flaws. But here he was, practically having a meltdown over the idea of wanting to snuggle.

And the worst part? The morning had been way too perfect for his comfort. Like, Anja didn’t even make the cuddling weird. Which, on any other day, would be a blessing. But now? He was thinking about her—and not in a “she’s a cool, funny friend” way. No, this was different. This was “I just woke up in her bed and I’m wondering if we should get matching coffee mugs” levels of insane.

They’d woken up, did the lazy morning cuddle thing—because apparently, Jack had no self-control—then they’d grabbed coffee. He’d cracked a few jokes about the news, she’d laughed like it was just another morning. And, damn it, it felt so normal. Too normal.

And then came the worst part: he kissed her on the cheek when he left. Like, a peck. And she blushed. She fucking blushed and wished him a good day like she was some picture-perfect, Hallmark-movie wife.

Did he just call her a wife? Oh, hell no. That couldn’t be a thing. He wasn’t ready for that.

He gulped down more coffee like it was going to fix this internal meltdown. The burn hit his chest, but the panic was still there. He had to shake it off. This was stupid. Anja was just a friend—no, not just a friend, she was a friend who he happened to share a bed with... and now apparently, his feelings? What the hell was happening to him?

Jack swore under his breath, rubbing his forehead. This wasn’t him. He was the guy who had no problems keeping things casual, no strings, no feelings. But now? Now he was screwing up his own rulebook. Anja is a friend…just a friend!

Jack sighed dramatically, letting his frustration hang in the air like a thick cloud. “Look, I don’t know what the hell is going on, alright? But I feel like a goddamn idiot. I’m not supposed to be thinking about this. I should be pissed about my game, but instead..." He rubbed his forehead, hoping it would somehow stop the mental chaos.

Luke, ever the observant little shit, raised an eyebrow. “So this is about her? Anja, right?”

Jack shot him a look that could’ve melted steel. “Well, no, I’m talking about the weather, Luke. Of course it’s about Anja. Who else would it be?” He paused, then—BAM—his brain hit him with a sudden revelation. Wait a second—this was actually Luke’s fault. “Actually, this is your fault, you know. If you and Thea weren’t busy mating like a pair of rabbits, I wouldn’t have had to leave the house yesterday!”

Luke’s smirk was already five miles wide. “Man, just admit it. You’re into her. You’re all mopey and pissy because you’ve got no idea what to do with it.”

Jack glared at him like he just insulted his entire existence. “Fuck off. I don’t do feelings. And I sure as hell don’t do snuggling.”

He immediately slapped his hand over his mouth, realizing he'd maybe over-shared just a bit.

Thea grabbed an apple from the fridge and plopped herself down on Luke’s lap “Snuggling? Snuggling? Oh, Jack, you are so gone.” She bit into the apple dramatically, her eyes dancing with mischief.

“You sure about that ‘no snuggle’ rule?”Luke teased, clearly enjoying the moment, as he lightly traced circles on Thea's exposed hip.

“Oh, Luke, do you remember what Jack said to Quinn?” Thea tilted her head, changing her voice to mock Jack. “‘Who said anything about it ‘meaning’ anything? I’m just here for the ride, bro.’” She smirked. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you.”

Jack groaned. “Oh, God, please, feel free to enjoy my suffering. It’s what you’re best at.”

Thea clutched her chest like she was watching the best drama unfold right in front of her. “Oh, I’m living for this. You know, those moments that are so painfully awkward and secondhand embarrassing that they keep you entertained for weeks? Jack Hughes falling in love—now that’s the kind of content I’ll be replaying in my head forever.”

Jack shot her a glare. He knew exactly what she was referencing. That was his line—the same one he threw at Thea when he caught her sneaking out of Luke’s room. Yeah, maybe he’d been a little too smug about it at the time. And sure, he knew she’d get her revenge eventually.

But honestly? Making his brother and his date uncomfortable had been way too much fun.

Jack would love to say he’d learned his lesson.

But he was way too much of an asshole for that.

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy every moment of this,” Jack grumbled, grabbing the last of his coffee and standing up. “Because this will be short. I’m just gonna figure my shit out. No more cuddling, no more kissing her on the cheek like I’m some goddamn romantic. I’m not built for this.” He slammed his mug down with a little more force than necessary. “I’ll find some random girl tonight, bang her, and get over this. Problem solved.”

Luke just shook his head, his curly hair bouncing with the motion, falling in soft waves across his forehead. “You know you’re not fooling anyone, right?”

Jack shot him an icy glare. “Shut up, Mr. Pedo Lover.” He practically growled as he stomped over to the sink, banging the mug down.

Thea and Luke exchanged a look, their smiles knowing. They didn’t even need to say anything, and it pissed Jack off even more. He muttered under his breath as he turned to leave the kitchen, needing to get away before he said something even dumber. But in the back of his mind, his thoughts kept running. Fuck. What the hell was he even doing?

—

The music pounded through the bar, a steady, brain-numbing beat. Jack Hughes barely noticed, his attention fixed on his beer as he took a slow sip.

He was in trouble.

Not because of the game. Not because of a fight. But because, for the first time in his life, he couldn’t find a single fucking woman he wanted to take home.

And that was a problem.

A huge problem.

This Sunday night was supposed to be easy. A big win finally, a few drinks, a quick fuck. No strings, no thoughts, no mess. That was the routine. That was him. And yet, here he was, staring into his beer like it held the answers to his fucked-up brain.

It was Nico’s slap on his back that snapped him out of it.

“Come on, man! What the hell’s up with you? You’ve turned down, what? Ten girls already?”

“Four,” Jack muttered.

Nico laughed, shaking his head. “That’s not like you, Jacky boy. You sick or something?”

Jack grunted, smacking Nico’s hand away when he pressed it to his forehead. He took another long swig of beer, hoping the alcohol would do something—blur the edges, dull the noise, drown out her.

Because that was the real problem, wasn’t it?

Anja.

The fucking Anja Syndrome.

Every girl, every goddamn girl, he measured against her. And every single one of them came up short.

Too blonde. Too tall. Too high-pitched. Too weird with her fucking drink.

It was bullshit.

Jack never gave a shit before. He didn’t care if they were tall or short, blonde or brunette. If they had a body and were willing, that was enough. And yeah, he knew that made him sound like a dick, but he was 23, a pro athlete, and he’d be an idiot not to enjoy the perks.

So why the fuck was he sitting here, empty-handed, second-guessing his entire goddamn existence?

“Come on, Jack,” Bas nudged him, nodding toward the bar. “That little blonde has been eye-fucking you all night. Give her some mercy.”

Jack glanced over.

Petite. A little too skinny, but she had pretty greenish-brown eyes and a face guys would probably call “cute.” She was fine.

She should be perfect.

But she wasn’t her.

Oh, fuck off.

No more of this shit.

This girl was hot, and she was ready to go. She was exactly what he needed to snap himself out of this bullshit.

“Perfect,” Jack muttered. Ignoring his teammates’ laughter, he downed the rest of his beer and pushed himself to his feet.

With long, confident strides, he crossed the bar, slipping back into the guy he used to be—the one who didn’t overthink, didn’t feel. He flashed his best smirk, the one that melted panties before he even said a word.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he drawled, voice dropping into that low, rough tone that always did the trick.

The girl beamed. “Hey! Took you long enough.” She giggled, the sound high and grating.

Jack forced a smirk. “You know how it is—can’t ditch the team right away.”

He didn’t care about the small talk.

Didn’t want it.

He just needed this to work.

“So… wanna head to the back with me?” He made sure his tone left no room for misinterpretation.

The girl’s eyes sparkled. “Of course.”

That was all he needed.

He took her wrist, weaving through the crowd until they reached the back exit. He’d spotted the terrace earlier—quiet, dim, completely empty. Perfect for what he needed.

And the second the terrace door swung shut behind them, Jack wasted no time.

He grabbed the girl by the waist, pulling her flush against him, his mouth crashing onto hers with a force that had always been enough. His hands slid down her back, gripping, squeezing, searching for that familiar spark—that fire that always ignited the second he got a girl alone.

But nothing came.

Not even a flicker.

The girl moaned into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair, pressing herself against him like she wanted to be devoured. It should have been hot. It should have sent a jolt straight to his dick, setting off that automatic chain reaction his body had perfected over the years.

But there was nothing.

Nothing except a creeping, cold frustration curling in his gut.

No. No, this was just in his head. He needed to push through it. He could push through it.

Jack deepened the kiss, tilting her head back as his hands roamed lower, his body pressing her into the brick wall behind them. He rolled his hips forward, desperate for his body to wake the fuck up, desperate for the heat to kick in, for the hunger to return.

Still nothing.

His pulse pounded—not with arousal, but with something dangerously close to panic.

What the fuck was happening to him?

The girl let out a high-pitched giggle, threading her fingers down his chest, her nails scraping against his shirt as she reached for his belt.

"Let me take care of you," she whispered, voice dripping with suggestion.

Jack flinched.

His stomach turned.

It wasn’t her voice.

It wasn’t her hands.

He sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself to snap out of it. He could fix this. He just needed to focus.

He dropped his head to the girl's neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her throat, hands gripping her hips, fingers digging in. He sucked at her pulse point, dragging his teeth over her skin in the way that usually made a girl melt against him.

She gasped, arching into him, nails raking down his back.

Jack felt nothing.

His body was like a fucking corpse.

Dead.

Unresponsive.

Refusing to play along.

And then, before he could stop it, before he could shove it back down where it belonged—her face flashed in his mind.

Anja.

That smug little smirk she got when she knew she was right. The way she tilted her head when she was listening to him talk, like he was the most interesting person in the world. The fire in her eyes when she called him on his bullshit.

The way her body had felt against his that one night when they slept in the same bed.

The way he’d spent every second since aching to feel it again..

Jack froze.

His entire body locked up, his breathing sharp and erratic.

The girl noticed immediately.

"You okay?" she murmured, pressing a kiss to his jaw, hands still working at his belt. "Just relax, baby."

Jack jerked back like he’d been burned.

Baby.

She wasn’t her.

She would never be her.

And for the first time in his life, that mattered.

"Fuck," Jack breathed, running a shaky hand through his hair.

The girl frowned. "What?"

He swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. "I— I can't. I— This isn’t gonna happen."

Her expression flickered with confusion, then shifted into irritation. "Oh, come on. You just need a little—"

She reached for him again, her hand slipping down toward his belt, but Jack caught her wrist before she could get any further.

"No." His voice was firm. Sharper than he intended.

She yanked her hand back like he’d slapped her, eyes narrowing. "Seriously?" She let out a harsh laugh, crossing her arms. "What, you bring me out here just to waste my fucking time?"

Jack exhaled heavily, raking both hands through his hair. His chest felt too tight, like his ribs were closing in on his lungs.

"You’re not her," he muttered, his voice raw, barely above a whisper. He shook his head, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Fuck. You are not her."

And that was the problem.

Her gaze darkened with annoyance. "Oh, so it's me that’s the problem?" She scoffed. "Classic. Maybe next time don’t bite off more than you can chew, Hughes."

And with that, she spun on her heel, shoving open the terrace door and storming back into the bar.

Jack didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

His back hit the brick wall as he slid down, knees bent, head tipped back against the cold surface. His breaths were uneven, his entire body wound too tight, but still—nothing.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenching uselessly in his lap.

His body had never betrayed him before.

Never failed him.

And now?

Now, it was screaming the truth at him.

The truth he’d been trying to ignore for weeks.

He didn’t just want Anja.

It was worse than that.

She was the only one who fucking existed.

And he was so. Completely. Fucked.

—

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. The girl in the back. His body refusing to cooperate. The cold panic that had washed over him like a wave when he realized it wasn’t just that he didn’t want her—he didn’t want anyone. Not unless it was her.

Anja.

That thought hit him again. Like a sucker punch straight to the gut.

He hadn’t realized how deep this shit went until now. He’d spent weeks trying to deny it, trying to make himself believe that it was just a phase. That he could get over it. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t because Anja wasn’t just someone he was into. She was the one. She was it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. His mind was too loud. He didn’t want to talk to anyone else. Not right now. Not when his entire body was screaming one thing.

Her.

He reached the street and stood there for a second, trying to get his bearings. The world around him felt off-kilter. Everything looked distant, like he wasn’t actually here, like he was floating in some fucked-up dream.

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, pulling his phone out. He tapped through his contacts and hit the taxi app without a second thought. He needed to get to her. Now.

His finger hovered over the ‘Confirm’ button before he pressed it without hesitation. He didn’t even care if he was drunk—he couldn’t stay here, couldn’t keep sitting with the fucking mess in his head.

He could already feel the buzz from the alcohol, the remnants of the beers he’d downed earlier, swirling in his blood. But it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered except getting to her.

The ride felt endless. The city lights blurred outside the cab window as he stared at his phone, willing it to stop feeling like it was vibrating in his hand. His mind kept replaying the images of Anja—the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, the sound of her voice when she laughed at his dumb jokes. God, even the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating made him want to crawl out of his skin.

By the time the taxi pulled up to her building, Jack didn’t know if he was angry, frustrated, or just scared shitless. Probably all of the above.

He handed the driver a few bills without even looking at the change, already pulling the door open and stepping out before the car had even come to a full stop. He jogged up the steps of her building, his hands clammy, stomach twisted in knots.

When he reached her door, he didn’t ring the doorbell. He didn’t wait. He just raised his hand and banged on the wood, the sound echoing in the stillness of the hallway. He felt like he might pass out from the tension in his body, the anticipation clenching his chest tighter with every passing second.

It felt like forever before he heard the sound of footsteps. And then the door creaked open.

After a few seconds, he heard the shuffle of footsteps, and then the door cracked open to reveal a very unimpressed, very sleepy-looking Anja. Fuck she was beautiful. 

She blinked at him. “Jack?” Her voice was groggy, her hair a mess. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said quickly. “I—I needed to talk to you.”

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Are you dying?”

“No.”

“Is someone else dying?”

“No.”

She squinted at him. “Are you drunk?”

Jack hesitated. “...A little.”

Anja let out a dramatic sigh and leaned against the doorframe. “Alright, go on then. What’s so important that you had to wake me up in the middle of the night?”

Jack opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Then ran a hand through his hair because shit, this was harder than he thought.

“Okay, so—” He exhaled sharply. “Something happened tonight, and I think I’m broken.”

Anja raised an eyebrow. “Broken?”

“Like, physically broken.” He gestured vaguely to himself. “Like… I had a girl—a very hot girl, by the way—practically throwing herself at me, and nothing. Not a damn thing.” He pointed at his own chest. “My body just—betrayed me.”

Anja stared at him for a second. Then, to his absolute horror—she burst out laughing.

Like, full-on, body-shaking laughter.

Jack scowled. “Okay, rude.”

“Oh my god.” She clutched the doorframe for support, laughing so hard she nearly lost her balance. “Jack, I swear, if you woke me up just to tell me you couldn’t get it up, I’m slamming this door in your face.”

“It’s not about that!” Jack groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, it is, but it’s also not.” He sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Look, I was with this girl, right? And she was perfect—like, objectively, guys would kill to be with her. And I tried, I really tried—”

Anja snorted. “Poor girl.”

“—but the whole time, all I could think about was you.”

That shut her up.

Anja’s smile froze, her laughter dying in her throat.

Jack swallowed hard. “That’s the problem, Anja. It’s you. You’ve ruined me.” He pointed at her like she was some kind of criminal. “I used to be great at this. No thoughts, just vibes. But now? Now, I go out, I find a hot girl, I do my thing—except I can’t do my thing, because all I can think about is how she doesn’t laugh like you, or talk like you, or smell like you, or—fuck, Anja—hell, even the way she breathed just annoyed the hell out of me.”

Anja blinked. “...The way she breathed?”

Jack threw his hands in the air. “Yeah! Stupid, right?! But it mattered! And you wanna know why? Because she wasn’t you.” He let out a frustrated noise, pacing in a small circle before turning back to her. “I fell, Anja. Hard. And I don’t even know what the fuck to do with it, because I’ve never—” He stopped, exhaling shakily. His voice dropped, raw and unguarded. “I’ve never been in love before.”

She stared at him, eyes wide, lips parted slightly like she wasn’t sure if she should laugh again or take him seriously.

Jack exhaled loudly, raking both hands through his hair. “So, yeah. I’m here. I’m standing on your doorstep like a fucking idiot, telling you that I’m gone for you. And I don’t even know what I expect you to do with that information, but I couldn’t not tell you, because keeping it inside was making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Silence stretched between them.

Jack’s pulse thundered in his ears as he watched Anja process everything he just blurted out like an absolute lunatic.

Then, slowly, she started smiling again.

And then—yep, there it was—she was laughing again.

Jack groaned. “Oh my god, Anja, I’m baring my soul here!”

“I know,” she gasped between laughs. “That’s what makes it so funny!” She wiped her eyes. “Jack Hughes, king of hookups, showing up at my door at one in the morning to tell me he’s emotionally constipated and in love with me? This is gold.”

Jack scowled, crossing his arms. “I take it back. I don’t like you anymore.”

Anja just grinned, stepping forward until she was standing right in front of him. “Too late, idiot.”

Jack’s breath hitched.

She was close now. So close that he could see the tiny freckles on her nose, the way her lips curled just slightly at the corners like she was still fighting laughter.

Then, before he could say anything else, she reached up and flicked his forehead.

“Ow,” Jack muttered, rubbing the spot.

Anja smirked. “That’s what you get for waking me up.”

And then—finally—she tugged him down by the collar of his hoodie and kissed him.

Jack froze for half a second before his brain caught up.

Then?

Then, he kissed her back.

This kiss was different. It wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It wasn’t a fleeting thing. This was everything he’d been missing, everything he didn’t know he wanted. The warmth of her lips, the softness of her touch, and the unmistakable scent of oranges that clung to her skin—it was intoxicating. He couldn’t breathe without it. Without her.

When they finally pulled apart, Anja’s smile was wide, like she’d just won something precious.

Jack blinked at her, heart pounding. “So, just to clarify… you like me too, right? This isn’t just, like, a pity kiss?”

Anja rolled her eyes, but the affection in her gaze was clear. “Yes, dumbass. I like you.”

Jack let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his entire body sagging with relief. “Oh, thank God.”

She laughed again, the sound like music to his ears, shaking her head as she pulled him inside.

And just like that, Jack Hughes—the guy who swore he'd never let anyone in—was completely, hopelessly lost.

—

It took Jack three months to finally introduce Anja to Luke and Thea. Not like he didn’t want to shout it out to the world the very next morning after his drunk love confession that Anja had said yes to be his girlfriend. The thing was, saying those words had felt strange, almost surreal for Jack. He didn’t remember the last time he’d had a real relationship—maybe back in high school? But high school felt like a lifetime ago. And back then, relationships were fleeting, brief. Nothing like what he felt for Anja.

But after meeting Anja, everything started to feel different. Jack couldn’t stop thinking about how he felt when he kissed her, when she smiled at him, when they were together, just the two of them. It wasn’t about sex, and that was the biggest shock to him. Every relationship he’d had before had always been tied up in physicality—chasing the high of the next touch, the next kiss, the next night. But with Anja, things were slower. The chemistry was undeniable, but they didn’t rush into anything. They took their time. And Jack was fine with that. 

So when Jack finally brought Anja around Luke and Thea, it felt like a milestone. They immediately clicked with her and both of them could see how well Anja handled Jack’s sometimes overly confident, sassy nature. Anja, in her own calm, collected way, knew how to ground Jack. She didn’t put up with his antics, but she didn’t try to change him either. They balanced each other out perfectly. Jack made Anja more confident, and she made him more humble. The shift in him was noticeable—his arrogance softened when she was around.

Things between Jack and Anja were effortless, natural. They’d fallen into a rhythm—hanging out with Luke and Thea, then slipping into quiet nights together. They’d binge-watch their favorite shows, wander around town grabbing food at random spots. But as their connection deepened, so did the tension—the unspoken feelings Jack wasn’t ready to confront.

Anja had made it clear she wasn’t in any rush, but Jack noticed a flicker of impatience in her over time. And he understood why. But for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to rush things. He didn’t want to mess up what they had by diving into something physical, especially after everything he’d been through. Every other relationship had been based on attraction, and they’d all ended in disappointment. This time, he wanted something real. He wanted something that could last. He cared too much about Anja to risk ruining it.

Then came that night. After a double movie date with Luke and Thea, the evening wrapped up with everyone saying their goodbyes. Anja had laughed with Thea all night—joking and teasing like they’d known each other for years. Jack watched them, captivated by how easy and natural it all was. And more than once, he found himself just staring at Anja, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky to have someone like her in his life.

As Luke and Thea headed off to their room, Anja turned to Jack, her smile soft but knowing. She stepped into his space, her body warm against his as she slid under his chin, leaning into his chest. Jack’s breath caught, his heart rate picking up. The scent of her perfume only made everything more intense.

"Hi," she said, her voice low, playful.

"Hi, baby," Jack responded, his smile matching hers, but there was something more beneath the surface. He brushed a strand of her hair from her face, his fingers grazing her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. She was up to something.

Anja’s fingertip traced small, slow circles on his neck—light, teasing touches that were enough to make his body respond before his mind could catch up. "So, I was thinking..." she said, her voice filled with mischief.

"Dangerous thing to do," Jack teased, his voice rougher than he intended, heat already pooling in his chest. He could feel his body weakening.

Anja giggled, hitting him lightly on the chest. "Shut up, you."

Jack grinned, but his thoughts scattered. Her touch was like fire, and it was hard to think straight with her so close.

"Can I stay the night?" she asked, her voice soft, but there was an edge to it now—something more vulnerable, something Jack couldn’t ignore. "I’ve missed you these last couple of days. Your schedule’s been all over the place, and I’ve been working late shifts... It’d be nice to just snuggle with you. You know, wake up next to you."

Jack’s brain short-circuited. The thought of waking up beside her, of having her close, overwhelmed him. Just the way she said it—her words carrying something deeper—made his heart race. He couldn’t focus on anything else. She knew exactly what she was doing. The sly smile on her lips, the gleam in her eyes—it all made it clear she wasn’t just asking to stay. She was asking for something more.

Jack kissed her temple—soft, quick—before answering, his voice unsteady, without thinking, “Sure, Jaja. That sounds amazing.”

"Thanks, baby," she said lightly, almost singing the words. "I’ll just grab one of your T-shirts for PJs and take a quick shower."

Before Jack could even process it, Anja jumped up from his lap, leaving him sitting there alone, his mind racing. She was leaving him spinning, and he had no idea how to catch up. He tried to steady himself, but his thoughts were already scattered, caught between what he wanted and what he was afraid of.

“Minx,” Jack murmured under his breath, leaning back into the couch, running a hand through his hair. He knew exactly what she was doing, but he wasn’t ready to play along—not yet. Anja deserved more than a rushed moment while his brother and his girlfriend were just down the hall.

Still, the thought of her in his T-shirt, of her curled up beside him, made it hard to resist.

—

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think about anything else. Hockey stats. The weather. The existential dread of taxes.

Then the bathroom door clicked open.

Jack’s head snapped up.

Anja stepped out, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp. Her damp hair cascaded over her shoulders, darkened from the water, strands sticking to her collarbone. His breath stalled in his chest as his gaze drifted lower, catching on the oversized white T-shirt she’d chosen.

His T-shirt.

The fabric was old, worn thin from years of washing, clinging just enough to show the shape of her body. It barely covered her thighs, teasing at modesty—but when she moved, the dim light made the cotton damn near see-through. And under that shirt…nothing. Not even a pantie.

Jack’s grip on his phone tightened. Hard.

She knew what she was doing.

Anja smirked, catching the way his dark eyes flickered over her before he forced them back up. The way his chest rose and fell just a little too fast. She crossed the room slowly, stepping onto the bed, crawling toward him with deliberate slowness. Her fingers traced over his bare arm, featherlight, enough to make his breath hitch.

“You know,” she murmured, tilting her head, “I could have brought my own pajamas.” Her smirk widened. “But this just felt… better.”

Jack swallowed hard, his back pressing against the headboard like it could somehow create space between them. He needed to slow this down. He needed to say something—anything—to keep himself in check.

“Anja…” His voice was low, rough, a warning.

She didn’t let him finish.

Curling up beside him, she let her lips graze his jawline, barely a whisper of contact. Jack went still, every muscle in his body wound tight. Her breath was warm against his skin, her presence intoxicating, impossible to ignore.

“Relax, Hughes,” she teased. “I know what I want.”

Jack exhaled sharply, his hands flexing at his sides. He wanted to touch her. Badly. But if he did, there’d be no going back.

Anja’s fingers slid under the hem of his shirt, her nails tracing faint patterns across his stomach, slow, exploratory. “I want you, Jack,” she whispered against his ear. “Not just the careful version of you. I want all of you.”

Jack clenched his jaw, tilting his head back, fighting for control.

“Anja…” he ground out, his voice thick with restraint, “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

She shifted, straddling his lap, her hands gripping his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “Don’t I?” she challenged, her gaze locked on his.

Jack knew that look. The same one she’d given him in the bookstore the first night they met—the night they sat there, arguing over War and Peace, the night he’d felt something shift inside him. That knowing, unwavering gaze.

“I saw you, Jack,” she said softly. “Not just the cocky hockey player everyone else sees. Not just the guy who acts like nothing gets to him. I saw You. And I think—no, I know—that we are perfect for each other. So stop fighting. Stop being afraid that being yourself will chase me away. I trust you. With my heart, with everything.”

She leaned in, lips brushing his ear, her voice a breathless whisper.

“So take me, Jack.”

Jack’s restraint snapped like a frayed thread.

His hands found her waist, fingers pressing into her skin, pulling her against him. With a rough growl, he flipped them over, pressing her into the mattress, his body caging hers in.

His lips crashed onto hers, all heat, all desperation. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t slow. It was every moment he’d held back, every time he’d wanted her and hadn’t let himself have her.

Jack’s hand slid up, fingers curling around her throat, firm enough to make her breath hitch. His grip wasn’t tight—just enough to remind her who was in control. He crushed his mouth to hers, his tongue sweeping inside, swallowing the soft gasp she let out.

Anja rocked her soaked core against his thigh, her fingers threading through his hair, tugging, demanding more.

Jack pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his breath ragged, lips swollen, self-control slipping fast. “You sure you want this?” His voice was rough, almost a growl. “Luke and Thea are in the other room. And you won’t be quiet if we start, darling.”

His eyes locked onto hers—one last chance to stop him.

Anja arched up, pressing her body flush against his, nails scraping down his back, making him suck in a sharp breath. Her smile was wicked, teasing. “Pretty sure we’ve both heard enough of them to know they’re not exactly holding back.” Her lips brushed his ear, her voice pure sin. “It’s our turn.”

Jack’s smirk was slow, dark—pure fucking trouble. That cocky, self-assured look that had driven her crazy since day one.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over her throat, making her shiver. “You just opened Pandora’s box.”

[lazy-ahh]

CHAOS LIKES COMPANY. A.K.A I LIKE YOU

pairing mohawk! mark grayson x (vigilante) male reader

you always imagined your grand exit would be more dramatic - maybe a hail of gunfire, a building collapsing in slow motion, at least a decent fucking punchline. instead you're testing a theory: if you disappear now, will mark grayson (your idiot, your disaster, the love of your shitty life) even notice? were you gonna be a tragic loss that haunted him forever, or the weird stain on the couch he learned to ignore?

this is for you MM (mohawk mark) anon! hope you enjoyed this one <3

you’re standing on a rooftop, the city sprawled out beneath you like a toy set some rich kid smashed in a tantrum. the wind’s tugging at your hair, the strands whipping across your face like it’s personally offended by your existence. not that you mind—gives you that "tragically windswept" look, and hey, maybe the audience is into that.

"nice view, huh?" you say, grinning at no one in particular. "seriously, take a screenshot or something. this is prime wallpaper material."

mark—mohawk mark, because this universe just had to make him extra—lands beside you with a thud that cracks the concrete under his boots. his black-and-blue suit is all "look at me, i’m edgier than the original", complete with that ridiculous "i" logo stretching down to his knees like it’s trying to escape. his mohawk’s practically defying gravity (and common sense), and the bags under his eyes make him look like he hasn’t slept since the invention of energy drinks.

"who the hell are you talking to?" he asks, squinting like he’s trying to spot your imaginary friends.

"the audience," you say, like it’s obvious. "you know, the people watching our lives like some messed-up reality show? hi guys, love ya, don’t forget to leave a like and reblog."

"the… what?" his nose scrunches up, and oh, that’s adorable.

"don’t worry about it." you wave a hand. "they’re cool. mostly. some of them probably ship us already—oh, and spoiler alert, they’re gonna love the angst fest coming up."

mark blinks. "what does that even—you know what, never mind." he shakes his head, but you can tell he feels it—that weird shift in the air when you break the fourth wall like it’s made of wet paper. he doesn’t see them, but he knows something’s off, like the universe just glitched for a second.

"you’re weird," he mutters, but there’s no real bite to it. just that same fond exasperation he’s had since you were kids throwing rocks at mailboxes (okay, you threw rocks—mark just watched and panicked, because back then, he was a "rules" kind of guy. boring).

"and you’re rocking a haircut that screams ‘i got into a fight with a lawnmower and lost’," you shoot back, reaching out to flick his mohawk. he swats your hand away, but he’s grinning now, all sharp edges and "i could kill you but i won’t (today)" energy.

"shut up," he says, but it’s half-hearted. then, quieter: "you’re the only one who gets to say shit like that and live."

and oh, that stings a little, doesn’t it? because you’ve known each other forever—since back when he was just mark, not invincible, not this version of him with blood under his fingernails and a smile that’s too wide to be sane. you know him better than anyone, even when he’s pretending he doesn’t care.

and yeah, maybe you’re a little (a lot) in love with him. maybe you’ve always been.

"lucky me," you say, forcing a smirk. "guess that means i’m special."

"guess it does," he says, and for a second, his eyes flicker with something almost soft.

(too bad you won’t be around long enough to enjoy it. because let’s be real—this is mark’s story, and in every universe, the best friend always dies. you’ve read the comics. you know how this ends. but hey, at least you’ll go out in style, right? saving this idiot’s life like some tragic, self-sacrificing idiot. classic.)

"so," mark cracks his knuckles, the sound sharp in the quiet before chaos, his fingers flexing like he's already imagining them wrapped around someone's throat. his grin is all teeth, too wide, too eager—the kind that makes normal people back up slowly and call the cops. his boot taps impatiently against the rooftop ledge, vibrating with barely-contained violence. "wanna go wreck some bad guys?"

you sigh, dramatic and long-suffering, like he’s just asked you to help him move a couch instead of commit several felonies. "oh, sweetie," you drawl, flipping a knife between your fingers just to watch the way his eyes track it—hungry, amused. "i was already doing that. you’re just late to the party." you tilt your head toward the alley below, where a bunch of armed goons are currently trying (and failing) to look intimidating. "see? they even brought balloons."

mark rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck, but before he can fire back some half-assed insult, he’s already leaping off the roof, arms spread like he’s embracing the inevitable chaos. you don’t even hesitate—just tuck your weapons back and dive after him, the wind screaming in your ears.

(you always follow. you always will. that's how you'll die, remember?)

the fight starts before your feet even hit the ground.

you land in a roll, coming up with a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other, already firing before the first thug even registers you’re there. the bullet takes him in the knee—"oops, guess you won’t be running anymore. well, not on that leg, anyway."

mark, meanwhile, doesn’t bother with weapons. he is the weapon. he plows into a guy twice his size like a freight train, sending him flying through a storefront window. glass shatters, the guy screams, and mark just laughs, kicking him in the ribs hard enough to crack bone. "aw, what’s wrong?" he taunts, tilting his head. "thought you were tough?"

one of the half-conscious goons on the pavement groans, dragging himself up on trembling elbows. his face is a mess of blood and regret as he glares up at you through one swollen eye. "what the fuck?" he slurs, spitting out a broken tooth. "i thought you guys were supposed to be heroes- AGH!"

your boot connects with his family jewels before he can finish that thought - a picture-perfect punt right to the baby factory, the twig and berries, the ol' troublepuffs. his voice cracks into a shrill, eunuch-like squeal as he folds like a lawn chair, hands cupped protectively over his now-useless crown jewels. "heroes?" you echo, tilting your head with mock sympathy as he dry-heaves onto the asphalt. "aw, cupcake. we're the guys your mom warned you about."

a bat comes swinging at your head from the blindside - amateur hour. you duck without even looking, feeling the whoosh of air ruffle your hair as you pivot and sink your combat knife deep into the guy's meaty thigh. he screams like a banshee as you twist the blade, feeling tendon grind against steel. "shhh, it's okay," you coo, patting his sweaty cheek with your free hand while he trembles. "you're doing great for someone with the fighting skills of a concussed koala."

then - classic move incoming - another meathead charges you with a crowbar raised high. is this also a reference to the author's other fictional crush? you sidestep like a matador, snatching his wrist mid-swing and using his momentum to yank him face-first into your rising knee. the satisfying crunch of cartilage tells you his nose just became abstract art. as he wheezes through the blood bubbling from his nostrils, you grab a fistful of his greasy hair and introduce his forehead to the nearest car hood. DING. "and that's the dinner bell!" you announce as he slumps to the pavement. "congrats, you just failed villainy 101. solid d-minus for the effort."

another shrill scream tears through the alleyway, high-pitched and desperate enough to make you pause mid-swing. you glance over your shoulder just in time to see mark - your personal hurricane of violence - plant his boots against the pavement, grip some poor 6'2 bastard by the waistband of his jeans, and heave. the guy goes airborne with a comical yelp, flipping ass-over-teakettle before crashing windshield-first onto a parked sedan. glass explodes outward in a glittering shower, the car alarm immediately wailing like a wounded animal.

"ohoho," you purr, letting your (new) bloodstained bat rest against your shoulder as you backpedal toward the nearest brick wall. you prop yourself against it, crossing your ankles with deliberate casualness as you watch mark work. the way his muscles flex under that skintight suit should be illegal. the way his mohawk bobs with each brutal movement? downright obscene.

mark doesn't even pause for breath before stomping toward the next threat, those unfairly thick thighs straining against his suit with each step - god, the way that fabric clings to him should be classified as a war crime. his fingers curl around a dented street sign, biceps flexing obscenely as he wrenches it free from the concrete with a screech of protesting metal. when he swings, it's with the practiced ease of a major league slugger, his whole body twisting in a way that makes his ass look absolutely sinful in that skin-tight suit - and then the aluminum connects with some mobster's jaw in a spray of saliva and enamel, three pearly whites skittering across the asphalt like tiny dice.

you swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. it's ridiculous how good he looks like this - all coiled violence and barely-contained power, his mohawk sticking up in every direction like he just rolled out of bed (your bed, preferably). the way his shoulders bunch under the fabric when he lifts the sign again, the way his thighs flex as he plants his feet - christ, you could write poetry about those thighs.

but then something tightens in your chest, sharp and sudden, stealing the breath from your lungs. you turn to glare at no one in particular, pointing an accusing finger. "woah woah woah, hey! don't you dare. i know what you're going to write in the next paragraph and i swear to god-"

because one day - soon - you won't be here to see this. won't be here to watch the way the streetlights catch the sweat on mark's neck, or the way his nose scrunches up when he's trying not to laugh at your shitty jokes. one day, you'll just be... gone. and mark will keep fighting, keep living, with some other poor bastard at his side who isn't you.

the thought hits you like a punch to the gut. fuck...

(you hope, when it happens, it's quick. you hope it's saving his stupid, reckless life. you hope he misses you, just a little.)

"homerun!" you crow as you look back at mark, pushing off the wall to deliver slow, sarcastic applause, trying to erase your negative thoughts. no need for allat when you're still alive and breathing, right? one of your gloves comes away sticky with someone else's blood. "ten outta ten for form, but i'm deducting points for lack of showmanship. where's the flair, grayson?"

"shut up," mark growls through gritted teeth, but the way his lips twitch betrays him. he chucks the ruined sign aside like trash before lunging for his next victim - some meathead who clearly skipped neck day. mark's fingers close around the guy's throat, lifting him clean off his feet until their faces are level. the thug's sneakers scrabble against empty air, his face blooming an impressive shade of eggplant as mark just... watches. his head tilts slightly, eyes dark with something between scientific curiosity and outright glee. it's the same look kids get when they poke dead things with sticks.

you whistle low through your teeth, nudging an unconscious goon with your toe. "y'know most heroes don't commit felonies on the daily. pretty sure throttling dudes counts as excessive force."

"we're not most heroes," mark snarls, finally dropping the gasping thug in a heap. he wipes his palms on his thighs, leaving smears of red across the blue fabric. "and i literally saw what you did to those guys back there," he jerks his chin toward the alley mouth where four bodies lay in increasingly creative positions, "so don't even start, hypocrite."

your grin stretches wide enough to hurt. he's got you there. while mark was playing fast and loose with the geneva suggestions, you'd been busy turning a switchblade into a modern art installation in someone's shoulder socket.

"touche, mohawk," you concede, flipping your bat in a lazy arc. "but in my defense?" the aluminum cracks against the skull of some sneaky bastard trying to flank mark. the guy folds like a lawn chair. "my felonies have panache."

mark's answering laugh is all teeth and no remorse. the sirens wailing in the distance mean it's time to bounce, but neither of you move just yet. not when there's still blood in the air and that electric hum of violence buzzing under your skin.

(and if your eyes linger on the way mark's chest heaves, on the wild light in his eyes - well. that's between you and the audience. you can't judge him, can you? perverts.)

luckily for the two of you, the universe apparently decided this shit-show wasn't over yet, with one final act left. with a running start, you plant one boot against the side of a overflowing dumpster and push off, tucking into a neat flip that would make any olympic gymnast weep with envy. you land in a crouch behind two meatheads who clearly skipped villain orientation day - their matching "we do crime" energy is almost cute in its patheticness.

the first guy telegraphs his punch like he's sending smoke signals. you catch his fist mid-swing, twisting his wrist in one fluid motion until the bone gives with an audible snap. his scream is high enough to shatter glass. "dude," you sigh, shaking your head as he crumples to his knees, "you gotta warm up first. this is just sad. i'm embarrassed for you."

his buddy takes this moment to make a terrible life choice, fumbling a glock from his waistband. the barrel wavers wildly as he tries to aim.

you blink. "oh, rude."

the gunshot cracks through the alley, but you're already moving - twisting sideways just enough that the bullet parts your hair like a fucked-up comb. before the echo even fades, your knife is airborne, burying itself to the hilt in the guy's shoulder with a meaty thunk. his shriek is music to your ears as the gun clatters to the pavement. you saunter over, planting a boot on his chest for leverage as you yank your blade free. "thanks for the target practice," you muse, wiping the blood on his shirt before he passes out. "tell your friends."

meanwhile, mark has apparently decided physics are optional. you turn just in time to see him grab some poor bastard by the belt and collar, muscles straining under his suit as he heaves - the guy goes sailing through the air like a ragdoll, crashing through a fruit stand in an explosion of splintered wood and flying oranges. before the first body even stops rolling, mark's already pivoted to grab another thug, launching him ass-first into a trash can with enough force to dent the metal. the clang echoes down the alley like a demented church bell.

"having fun?" you call, spinning your pistol around your finger before slotting a fresh magazine home with practiced ease. the click of it seating is downright pornographic.

"shut up," mark pants for the umpteenth time, but there's no heat behind it - just that breathless, unhinged laughter that makes your stomach do funny things. he grabs the last guy by his collar, hauling him up until they're nose-to-nose. for a heartbeat, they just stare at each other - then mark slams their foreheads together with a crunch that would make a butcher wince. the guy's nose practically explodes in a crimson spray, his eyes rolling back as he collapses in a boneless heap.

suddenly, it's quiet.

the aftermath looks like a tornado hit a butcher shop - bodies strewn about like broken dolls, glass glittering amidst pools of darkening blood, the distant wail of sirens growing steadily closer. mark's chest heaves with each breath, his knuckles split and dripping onto the pavement. his mohawk's gone full hedgehog mode, sticking up in every direction, and there's a smear of someone else's blood across his cheekbone that you have the sudden, overwhelming urge to lick off. weird. last you checked, you were a picky eater.

when he turns to look at you, his eyes are alive - pupils blown wide with adrenaline, that manic grin still tugging at his lips. it's terrifying. it's beautiful. it's so mark that your chest aches with it. so mark that you can literally feel the blood in your veins start to make its way down.

"so," you say, holstering your gun with a flourish, "same time tomorrow?"

mark scoffs, rolling his shoulders as he turns to leave. but he doesn't check if you're following - doesn't need to.

(you always do.)

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

"i feel like i'm going crazy. like my brain's been stuffed with cotton and set on fire at the same time." you stare at the water-stained ceiling talking to no one in particular, fingers digging into your pillow hard enough to tear seams. the eyebags under your eyes have gotten so dark they look like bruises (at least now you and mark match, his from violence, yours from... whatever this is). your hair's a disheveled mess, strands sticking to your forehead after days of bedrotting and only wearing t-shirts and sweatpants. you need to do your laundry soon, you were about to run out of t-shirts and sweatpants from your closet. you can feel death crouched at the foot of your bed like a stray cat waiting to be let in. "i'm literally about to die and what do i do? play fucking martyr instead of just... just..." your voice cracks as you press the heels of your hands against your burning eyes.

this was supposed to be some noble gesture - giving mark a trial run at life without you. you'd dove into the plan half-delirious, imagining how he'd come pounding on your door by sundown, all wild-eyed and vibrating with barely-contained panic. he'd drag you out of bed by your ankle, that adorable angry crease between his brows as he yelled about how you can't just disappear for hours, how he'd torn the city apart looking for you, how maybe - just maybe - he'd been a little more brutal than usual with the criminals today because what if something had happened to you and -

except that's not what happened.

three days. seventy-two hours of radio silence. the notifications on your phone have tapered off to nothing. you keep checking it like a pathetic loser, thumb smearing fingerprints across the cracked screen as you scroll through increasingly distant messages:

sidehoe #1 🐈💨 2:43 AM

we both know you don't got other sidehoes, so why is there a number next to my nickname??

manwhore <3

why would i tell you who the others are? you'd just kill them anyway, so i gotta keep the huzz safe, you feel me?

and don't worry, marky, you'll always be number 1 in my heart <33

sidehoe #1 🐈💨 7:58 AM

oh shut up

8:02 AM

okay when i said shut up, i didn't mean literally

8:15 AM

you alive?

9:29 AM

you haven't watched the tiktoks i sent yet watch them or you're going to get it tonight

9:31 AM

when i said you're going to get it tonight i meant i'm going to grab you by the throat and glue your phone screen to your eyes or sexual intercourse don't even make fun of me for calling it that whichever one gets you to answer my fucking messages

8:16 PM

whatever

"it's like..." you rasp to the empty room, throat raw from disuse. "like when you stop texting your boyfriend first to see how long it takes him to notice you're gone. except you're the idiot who breaks after five minutes because the silence makes your chest hurt, while he's just... fine." you let your phone clatter to the floor, screen-up so you can watch it stay dark. "fuck. that doesn't even make sense. i fucking hate myself."

outside your window, the city keeps turning. somewhere out there, mark's probably elbow-deep in someone's ribcage, not even realizing there's a you-shaped hole in the world. the thought makes you laugh - a wet, broken sound that turns into a sob halfway through. you roll over and bury your face in the pillow that stopped smelling like him days ago.

(you always knew you'd die for him. you just never thought you'd have to watch him stop needing you first.)

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

that suffocating dread finally lifts one night - not because it's gone, but because you've grown too tired to carry it anymore. it had clung to your ribs like tar for days, weighing down every breath no matter how many shitty jokes you cracked or how many bad decisions you made. hiding in your room didn't help either, the walls pressing closer each day like they knew what was coming. part of you wondered if the danger was you all along, if you'd somehow become the villain in this story. but no - you know how this ends. you've always known. you'll die saving that reckless, mohawked idiot who still doesn't realize you're in love with him.

after your first proper shower in days (the water scalding your skin pink), you crack open another soda and watch the bubbles fizz against the can's rim. the carbonation burns your throat as you gulp it down, the sugar rush doing nothing to steady your hands as you strap on your gear. your suit smells like old blood and gunpowder when you shrug it on, the familiar weight of weapons settling against your thighs as you step out into the night.

you take your usual patrol route - yours and mark's route, the one where he always complains about stopping for hot dogs but eats three anyway. every shadow makes your pulse jump, half-hoping you won't see him, half-terrified this might be your last chance if you do. the city stretches below you, all glittering lights and oblivious crowds. it looks peaceful from up here. you almost feel peaceful after finally accepting that you only have a few pages left before your book ends. (liar.)

"but of course," you murmur to no one in particular, gloved fingers tightening around the rooftop's edge, "you've got different plans for me, right?" the wind doesn't answer. then -

a rush of air colder than the night itself. the scent of leather and that cheap citrus body wash mark refuses to stop using.

"where the fuck have you been?" his voice loud like a gunshot, raw with something between rage and devastation. you don't turn. can't. the city lights blur beneath you as you focus on keeping your breathing even. "i said," mark snarls, closer now, "where the fuck have you been, you stupid son of a bitch-"

"you've been doing fine without me." your mask hits the concrete with a dull thud when you pull it off. the smile you force feels like a death rattle. "see? proof you won't completely lose it when something does happen to me-"

"will you fucking quit that?" mark's boots scuff against concrete as he storms forward. when you finally turn, his face is a mess of anger and fear, eyes glassy under the moonlight. "you always - fuck - you always talk like you've got one foot in the grave. why do you keep talking like that? are you- " his breath hitches, hands flexing at his sides like he wants to shake you or hold you or both, "are you planning on killing yourself?"

the laugh that tears from your throat sounds alien even to you. "what? no, i'm not-"

"stop lying!" mark's shout echoes off the rooftops, his composure shattering as tears finally spill over. your chest caves in at the sight - mark never cries, not even when he's bleeding out in some alleyway. his hands find yours with desperate urgency, calloused fingers trembling as they squeeze yours hard enough to bruise. "just... stop. if you're hurting, tell me. am i - " his voice breaks, "am i really not someone you can trust with this?"

he drags your joined hands up, pressing your knuckles to his forehead like a prayer. his breath brushes your wrists as he leans into the contact, hot against your skin. when he speaks again, it's so quiet the wind almost steals it: "i might be a disaster, but i fucking care. so please... let me in."

the dam breaks.

"i'm sorry," the words spill out in a broken whisper, saltwater dripping off your chin as tears carve hot paths down your wind-chapped cheeks. "god, mark, i'm so fucking sorry."

your hands slip from his trembling grip, moving on instinct as you drag him into the tightest embrace your battered body can manage. one hand finds its way between his shoulder blades, fingers spreading wide over the familiar topography of his suit's fabric as you rub slow, grounding circles into the knotted muscles beneath. the other settles at the dip of his waist, thumb tracing absentminded patterns against the curve of his hip through the thin material - that same spot you've secretly ached to touch for years, now warm and solid under your palm.

his breathing hitches when you pull him closer, his forehead coming to rest heavily against your shoulder as his hands fist in the back of your jacket like you might vanish if he lets go. (and he's almost right.) the scent of his shampoo mixes with gunpowder and copper as you tuck your face into the mess of his mohawk, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear when you murmur another apology into the space between you.

but it wasn't enough to just whisper apologies into his skin, not when you still hadn't told him the crushing truth - that soon you'd be nothing more than another ghost haunting his memories.

his breath is warm against your neck as you hold him, his heartbeat thundering against your chest in a rhythm you've memorized through countless battles. you let your fingers card through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, smiling faintly when he shivers at the touch. "hey audience," you murmur silently against mark's shoulder, your voice barely a thought, "funny how i can take a bullet without flinching, but can't say three stupid little words to the guy who actually gives a shit if i live or die, huh?"

mark shifts in your arms, his calloused palm sliding up to cradle the back of your head like you're something precious. the moonlight paints silver and blue along the curve of his cheekbone when he tilts his face up, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your throat tight. you press your forehead to his instead, breathing him in - the citrus of his shampoo, the iron tang of blood from split knuckles, the unmistakable scent that's just mark. your thumb traces the arch of his cheekbone, wiping away tear tracks you pretend not to notice.

(you don't say i love you. but when his lips brush yours in something too soft to be a kiss and too tender to be an accident, you think maybe he knows anyway.)

OH MY GOD 4.5k WORDS??? THIS MIGHT BE THE LONGEST ONE-SHOT I'VE EVER WRITTEN, and honestly... i think i might have cooked with this one-

[saythenametotheworld]

Tsunami | c.vn (18+)

You knew you deserved better; you figured that out yourself. But what use is better when Vernon’s all you wanted? A rebound gone wrong. Or maybe right. Depends on who’s asking, really.

Genre: rebound relationship, smut Pairing: Chwe Vernon x afab!Reader Warning: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), angst. Notes: 16k words. Title is based on Tsunami by NIKI. Prompt for this was from an anon who submitted a request a while back. I hope you like it! Disclaimer: I do not know them, nor do I claim they would ever act irl the way they are portrayed in this story.

Enjoy!

"A roaring tsunami, you came crashing in like an act of God. Shake my earth, suck the air out, burn me down."

They called it the Midterms Party. It wasn’t an official university function, but it was a tradition—it happens every semester, with students or groups of students bidding to get the opportunity to host it. This semester, it was hosted by a posh Fashion and Design senior who had invited every single student on campus to attend the party at a sprawling mansion on the upper side of town.

You haven’t even met the girl, but you sure felt at home in her Chesterfield couches and expensive wool carpet.

“Rich kids sure know how to host a party,” said Vivi, throwing her head back as she drank a shot of tequila. “Hooh! That’s the good stuff.”

“We should take that shot glass home,” you grinned drunkenly, half-lidded eyes trying to focus on the crystal shot glass in Vivi’s hand.

Vivi’s eyes were gleaming when she asked, “Should we?”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Jules interjected, snatching the crystal away. “Did you see those security guards outside? Yeah. Not happening.”

Vivi was about to protest, but stopped midsentence, eyes focusing somewhere across the room. “It’s Vernon.”

“Vernon?” Jules asked, just as you turned to follow her line of sight. “He’s here?”

“Is that why Mina didn’t want to come tonight?” you asked, squinting to find which one was Vernon in the sea of students flooding the entire hall.

Vivi snorted. “Pretty sure it’s because she’s going out with Dean tonight.”

“I don’t see him,” you muttered, still squinting.

“He’s right there, brooding,” Vivi sighed, shaking her head. “Don’t mind him. Let’s go get refills.”

You rose to your feet, letting Vivi tug you by the arm. You made sure to grab Jules by the wrist too, and you made your way through the crowd until you reached the mini bar.

You got a refill while Vivi chattered nonstop about some guy she was eyeing across the room. Jules was only half-listening, distracted by something on her phone. You zoned in and out of the conversation, distracted by the sheer chaos of it all.

You were trying to grab another drink from the mini bar when you accidentally bumped into someone, hard enough that your glass nearly sloshed over the edge.

“Whoa—sorry,” you said quickly, eyes going wide.

It took a second for you to realize it was Vernon. He stumbled slightly, trying to keep his drink in his glass as he locked eyes with yours.

“You okay?” you asked, more out of reflex than concern.

Vernon blinked, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his gaze unfocused like he’d been lost in thought. “Yeah, fine,” he said, his voice a little rough. Well, all of him looked a little rough and messy—his clothes, his hair, the knot between his eyebrows.

“Uh-huh. Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” you added, not knowing what else to say.

He shrugged, and the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Guess that’s the point of the crowd.”

Vernon’s eyes flickered around, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be there at all. Then, as if deciding something in his mind, he glanced at you and nodded toward the back of the room, where people were mingling by the sliding glass doors that led out to the balcony.

“Wanna get some air?”

You snorted before you could stop yourself. “With you?”

He blinked, caught off guard. And for a second, you considered taking back what you’d said, but then he smirked, all gleaming teeth and pointed canines. “You’re right. That was so random.”

He sighed, tucked one hand in his jacket pocket, and tipped his glass in the air. “Well then, excuse me.”

You weren’t sure what possessed you to stop him—guilt, curiosity, intrigue—but you found yourself calling out, “Wait,” and following him toward the glass doors.

It was cooler out here, quieter. The music from inside thudded against the closed windows, but it was not as loud. Guess the thick walls of this mansion had other purposes.

You leaned against the balcony railing, arms folded over your chest, while Vernon stood a short distance away, swirling the drink in his glass like it might give him answers. Neither of you said anything at first. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly nice either.

“So,” you said eventually, “you always this cheerful at parties?”

He huffed a laugh. “Only when I’m spiraling.”

You glanced at him. He wasn’t looking at you—just watching the trees sway in the wind. “Okay, Drama King. You’re not doing a very good job hiding it,” you muttered.

He shrugged. “Didn’t really come to hide. Just figured standing around in a new location might change the vibe.”

You smiled despite yourself, small and quick. “Classic coping mechanism. Relocate the sadness.”

He took a sip. “I think I’ve mastered that. Relocation. Repression. Deflection.”

“Big words for a guy holding jungle juice in a red cup.”

That earned a laugh. A real one, low and warm. “Fair enough,” he said, then added, “I’m not usually like this, you know.”

“Well, we all have our days,” you said simply, not to dismiss him but to draw a line. Because maybe he was, or maybe he wasn’t. Either way, it wasn’t your place to say.

After a while, he said, “I messed a lot of things up lately.”

You looked at him again, but his expression gave nothing away.

“I was kind of… stupid,” he went on, casual like he wasn’t slowly peeling a layer off himself. “Or maybe not stupid, just… I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Your gaze drifted back out to the street lights. “Happens to the best of us.”

He gave a small nod. “Still sucks though.”

You didn’t say anything else. You just let the silence fill in the blanks—you didn’t mention Mina, and neither did he, but the echoes of her name lingered in the air anyway.

You stayed like that for a while, leaning against the railing, both of you watching nothing in particular.

“So, what’s next after relocation and repression?” he asked after a while, straightening up and taking a deep breath.

“Why? Are you gonna practice how to face it like a man?” you quipped, chuckling. Vernon chuckled too, shaking his head in amusement.

“Is it denial?”

“Mm,” you nodded solemnly. “Denial is a classic. Works great until you’re crying over leftover noodles at two in the morning.”

Vernon hummed. “Been there.”

“No, you did not,” you sneered.

“Actually, I did.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow skeptically. “Tell me your noodle sob story.”

He shrugged. “Well, for starters, it was supermarket ramen. The eighty-nine-cent kind. Barely edible unless you throw an egg in it.”

“That’s when you know it’s serious,” you said, eyes lighting up mischievously. “Low-grade ramen tears.”

You both laughed. It wasn’t loud, but it felt good. And when the laughter faded, you found him still looking at you. Not just looking—watching, like something about you had changed in the last few seconds, and he couldn’t figure out how or why.

You blinked. “What?”

Vernon didn’t answer right away. He just tilted his head slightly, like the angle might help him understand something.

“Nothing,” he said, though it didn’t sound like nothing. He took a breath, like he was going to say something else, then didn’t.

Your brow lifted. “Okay… why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “You just… caught me off guard.”

You frowned, but not because it upset you. You were just confused—confused and a little too aware of how close you were standing now. The space between you had vanished, like neither of you had noticed yourselves stepping closer.

“Caught you off guard, how?”

Vernon’s gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then flicked back up to your eyes. “You’re kind of funny when you’re not being mean.”

You laughed. “I wasn’t mean.”

“You were a little mean.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Earlier, you said ‘With you?’ like I was some random stranger.”

You stifled a laugh. “Well, you were being kinda random.”

“But not exactly a stranger.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already smiling. And before you could say anything else, he leaned in—not fast, not slowly either. But naturally, like it made sense, like maybe you’d both been leaning this way all along.

And you didn’t pull away. You didn’t even think to.

At some point, you’d gone from the balcony to the backseat of his car. The windows were fogging up with the heat of your breathing, your bodies, and everything building up between you.

Vernon’s mouth was on yours, hungry and careless. His hand was cupping the back of your head, the other gripping your waist. You’d straddled his lap at some point, your knees pressed awkwardly into the cushions, your dress pushed up, and your fingers clutching the collar of his jacket.

It was messy. Uneven. All teeth and tugging and short, shaky breaths.

He groaned softly into your mouth when your hips rolled against his crotch, his hands tightening at your sides. “Fuck,” he muttered, making you push back a little, one hand pressed on his chest.

You stared into his eyes, half-lidded and clouded with desire. You could feel his heartbeat on your palm, or maybe it was yours thudding loud enough to count for both of you. And his lips, god, those lips. You’d want nothing more than to have them on yours again.

“I should go,” you mumbled, trying to be rational despite every fibre of your being not wanting to leave this cramped space.

Vernon’s forehead creased, confused. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Because he’s Mina’s ex-boyfriend, that’s why. Because it’s weird. Because you shouldn’t want this as badly as you do. “I don’t know,” you muttered, your hand curling tighter against his shirt.

He searched your face, his breathing still uneven. “Do you want to go?”

You didn’t answer right away. Maybe you should’ve. Maybe the decent thing would’ve been to untangle yourself, fix your dress, and head back inside like nothing happened. But the pull of his body against yours, the warmth of his breath on your skin, the way he was looking at you like you were the only real thing in his night—it made the decision for you.

Fuck it, you whispered in your head, and then you kissed him again.

This time, it was you who leaned in first. You who parted your lips, who pressed your hands against his chest, who deepened the kiss like you’d never had any doubts at all.

Vernon made a low sound in his throat—like relief, like hunger—and pulled you closer. His hands slid down your waist, gripping your hips like he didn’t trust you to stay. Your thighs clenched around him, the angle was tight and awkward, but god, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered right now except the way his mouth felt against yours and the heat building fast, faster than you could keep up with.

Clothes were soon forgotten. His jacket was shoved off. Your dress was bunched around your hips, his hands sliding up your bare thighs.

You gasped when his mouth left yours, grazing your jaw, your throat, then lower, taking a mouthful of your boobs with the kind of reverence that had no business existing in the backseat of a car.

And then he paused. Just barely. One breath, maybe two. His lips brushed yours again as he whispered, “Do you wanna go out with me?”

Your brows furrowed. “What? Like… sometimes, or…?”

He didn’t answer. He just kissed you again—deeper this time, more urgent. Like the question was real, but this was more real. Like whatever came after this could wait, because right now, all he wanted was you.

And you let him have you.

The rest was a euphoric blur. Your underwear shoved aside, his jeans undone. The cramped space made every movement clumsy and rushed, but that only made it feel more desperate. You could barely breathe, panting into his neck as he pushed into you, a grunted curse falling from his lips when you clenched around him.

It was raw and uninhibited. There was no talking, just looking into each other’s eyes as he drove you to the edge of your sanity. Outside, the music from the party was still faintly audible. Inside, there was only the sound of your breathing, of skin against skin, of your hands scrambling for something to hold onto as the windows fogged and the car rocked beneath you.

You weren’t supposed to want this. Weren’t supposed to have this. But god, he felt good. He felt real. And right now, that was enough. You’ll worry about the other stuff later.

You stirred under a blanket that wasn’t yours, in a room you didn’t recognize. The light was sharp through half-open blinds, and you caught sight of the hardwood floor and the polished furniture around the room.

You blinked, groggy. Your head was a hurting a little, but not splitting—just enough to make you regret the fourth or fifth glass of whatever you’d been drinking last night.

Vernon! You screamed in your mind, memories of last night’s excursions flooding in.

You turned your head to the side and saw a shirtless Vernon, leaning against the headboard, scrolling through his phone like this was just another Tuesday. His hair was messy, sticking up at odd angles, and a few faint red marks stretched across his collarbone. You didn’t need a mirror to know you probably matched.

“Morning,” he muttered, not even glancing at you.

You stared at him for a moment, still trying to piece things together. “Where… where are we?”

“My house,” he said simply.

Your heart kicked a bit. His house?

You sat up slowly, letting the blanket fall to your lap as you looked around. The room was modern and clean—high ceilings, thick curtains, and framed art on the walls that didn’t look like they came from a dorm room clearance sale. There was even a full-sized couch on one corner, and a desk that looked more like a workspace than a dumping ground for laundry.

“What part of town is this?” you asked slowly, eyes narrowing. “Did you drive drunk last night?”

Vernon finally set his phone down and looked at you properly. “No. We both knocked out in the car. I woke up at, like, five and drove us here. It’s not that far from the party.”

“Where is this exactly?”

“Greenview,” he said simply.

Green-fucking-view. Rich people lived here. Football stars and neurosurgeons, and kids who wore designer slides to class. You processed that in silence, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as you stared at the pristine bedroom.

You looked back at him, brows furrowed. “I didn’t know you lived around here.”

He raised a brow, then shrugged. “Now you do,” he said, leaning to plant a quick kiss on your lips before pushing himself off the bed.

Vernon stretched when he stood, all lean lines and muscle as he crossed the room in nothing but a pair of dark sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips. You stared—not out of curiosity, but out of sheer, involuntary appreciation. He was pretty muscular, not bulky, but firm—defined arms, a sculpted back, and that sharp taper of his waist.

You caught yourself biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together.

Then you shook your head violently and pulled the blanket up like it could shield your shame. Get a grip. This was a one-time thing. A mistake fueled by tequila, dim lighting, and heartbreak. Nothing more.

Vernon glanced at you over his shoulder, smirking like he knew exactly what you were thinking. “Breakfast?”

You ended up downstairs, wearing fluffy slippers and half-swallowed by his hoodie that smelled vaguely of fabric conditioner and him. It hung down to your mid-thighs like a hoodie dress, with the sleeves dangling over your fingers. He set a warm plate of eggs and toast in front of you on a patio table overlooking a private pool—blue, serene, and surrounded by tastefully trimmed hedges. The whole scene felt like something out of a very rich, very confusing Instagram story.

“Thanks for breakfast,” you said eventually, poking your fork through a slice of avocado. “I’m leaving after this. I’ve got errands and evening classes.”

“I’ll drive you,” Vernon replied easily. “You can shower if you want. I had someone wash your dress from last night.”

“Oh, thank you,” you said, relieved. “I was worried I had to go home like this.”

“You don’t look bad like that,” he chuckled, sipping from his coffee like this was the most normal thing in the world.

After breakfast, you padded back into his bedroom, marveling again at how neat everything was, and stepped into the en-suite bathroom that was nearly half as big as your apartment. The tiles were smooth under your feet, and a huge rain shower waited at the far end behind a glass door. You tugged at the hoodie, just starting to lift it over your head, when you caught movement in the mirror.

Vernon was leaning against the bathroom doorway, arms crossed, shoulder propped on the frame. That same smirk played at his lips—mischief, confidence, a hint of sleep still softening his face.

You narrowed your eyes. “What are you doing standing there like a creep?”

“You’re not gonna invite me in?” he asked, his voice low and playful.

“No?”

He shrugged. “Guess I got my hopes too high. We did defile my car last night.”

You tried to scoff, but it came out breathless. “Defile is a strong word.”

He stepped closer, slow and steady like a lion who knew the prey wasn’t running. “Okay. How about sully?”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t stop him when he reached for the hem of your hoodie and tugged it upward. Didn’t stop him when his mouth brushed your shoulder. And definitely didn’t stop him when you both stumbled into the warm spray of the shower, your laughter drowned out by the hiss of water and the sudden heat of his mouth on yours.

The water was already cascading down, steam filling the bathroom like fog. Vernon backed you into the shower, hands on your waist, thumbs dragging slowly over bare skin as he kicked his sweatpants off.

“You always this handsy in the morning?” you muttered against his lips, breathless and teasing.

“Only when I wake up with a pretty girl in my bed,” he shot back, before nipping gently at your lower lip.

You gasped, more from surprise than pain, and your hands curled around his shoulders, feeling the solid, flexing muscles beneath your palms. He didn’t seem like a gym rat, but he was strong and big enough to make you feel small when he pressed into you, chest to chest, with the water pouring down between you.

His mouth moved to your neck, kissing beneath your jaw, then down to your collarbone. “Still not inviting me in, huh?” he murmured, and then dropped lower, crouching slightly as he kissed the space between your breasts.

“What? This isn’t invitation enough?” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

He huffed a laugh and pulled you flush against him again, hands trailing down the slope of your back to your hips. You could feel him, hard against your thigh, and god, it was dizzying—how easily your body responded, how warm everything felt, how right it somehow was despite how wrong this should’ve been.

You tangled your fingers into his wet hair as he leaned into you again, one hand gripping under your thigh to lift your leg around his waist. The angle made your breath hitch.

“You good?” he asked, voice hoarse, eyes half-lidded and focused entirely on you.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Vernon didn’t need more than that. He adjusted slightly, one arm bracing behind you against the tiled wall, the other still cradling your thigh. His mouth found yours again—slower now, but deeper, more consuming. You kissed him back just as desperately, your hands wrapping around his back, the other on his neck, nails grazing his skin, and he groaned softly into your mouth.

You could feel him prodding your cunt before he pushed into you with just a little bit of struggle before smoothly filling you up. You gasped sharply against his lips, your back arching instinctively.

The heat of the water blurred the lines between his body and yours, every nerve ending dancing and buzzing alive. He moved steadily and relentlessly—and the wet slap of skin, the shallow sounds of breathing, and the occasional grunt were swallowed up by the sound of rushing water and fogged-up glass.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t slow. It was raw, fast, a little uncoordinated, like you were both still half-asleep and making sense of each other all over again. But there was hunger in it, and desperation, chasing a high you’d once experienced with each other and now can’t seem to get enough of.

“Vernon—” you breathed, fingers tightening on his shoulders.

His response was a grunt and a kiss, messy and off-center as his pace quickened, hot breath fanning your cheek. You could barely think, only feel. With the pressure building, your knees growing weak, and your wet skin sliding against his.

And then it hit, sudden and intense. You clenched around him, gasping, biting down on his shoulder to keep yourself from crying out. He cursed under his breath, holding you tighter, hips stuttering once, twice—then pulling out to finish himself with his hands, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a low groan that vibrated against your chest.

You stayed like that for a second—tangled limbs and shallow breaths as Vernon held you in place to keep your knees from giving out. His hair was soaked, dripping water into your eyes while you were shaking from the aftermath.

Eventually, Vernon let out a breathless laugh. “Bet you don’t regret inviting me in, did you?”

You rolled your eyes, feigning disinterest. “Oh, please. It was just fine. And you invited yourself in, perv.”

He smirked. “Whatever you say.” He caressed your cheek and kissed you slowly.

Vernon dropped you off just before noon. The ride was mostly quiet, but not awkward. You’d both already said what needed saying—or not saying—between tangled sheets and shower steam. When he pulled up to your building, he leaned his arm over the wheel, glanced at you once, then leaned in to press a quick peck on your cheek.

“Get some rest,” he said.

You nodded back. “You too.”

Then you stepped out of his car, smoothed your dress down your thighs, and walked into your apartment like you hadn’t just had sex with your friend’s ex-boyfriend in the backseat of his car, then again in his marble-tiled shower.

Closing the door behind you felt like snapping a chapter shut. No closure, no commentary—just done. It was just a momentary lapse of judgment—a one-time thing. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You changed, tossed the dress into your laundry hamper like it was evidence, and went about your day like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t crossed a moral line and then dove over it headfirst.

By the time late afternoon rolled around, you were on campus for your evening classes, hair washed, face fresh, voice steady.

“Jules said you disappeared last night too,” Vivi said as she adjusted her sunglasses—indoors, because fashion. Her grin turned sly. “Let me guess. You found yourself a hot guy and ran off like the good girl that you are.”

You choked on your iced coffee, sputtering into the straw. “What? No. I just—got tired. Turned in early.”

“Turned in early, I see,” Vivi snickered, turning to Jules. “She totally found a hot guy and ran off last night.”

Jules groaned dramatically. “Wow. So both of you left me at that party to fend for myself while you chased boys.”

“Uh-uh. I didn’t chase him,” Vivi said, arching a brow. “He chased me, for the record.”

You laughed along, trying to keep it casual, hoping the warmth in your cheeks wasn’t giving you away. Then Vivi turned back to you, squinting playfully.

“So? Who’d you leave with?”

You opened your mouth—then closed it again. Your brain panicked. Do you lie? Deflect? Pretend you don’t remember? You’d promised yourself this would stay a secret, but you hadn’t exactly prepared a cover story.

“There you are, darlings,” came a familiar voice, cool and clear with a posh London accent. “God, I’m starving. Can we eat before class? Did any of you eat anything at all?”

Your heart did a full-body jolt. Speak of the fucking devil. And what an alluring devil she was.

Mina crossed the green with two of your mutuals trailing behind her, iced matcha in hand and an oversized tote slung over one shoulder. Her long coat fluttered behind her. Her honey-brown hair was pulled into a high claw clip, with a few strands left loose deliberately, and gold hoops on both ears catching the sunlight.

You blinked. Somehow, next to her, you felt…pale. Underdressed in your plain knitted sweater and faded jeans. You’d never really compared yourself to any of your friends before. But now, after Vernon—after last night—you felt that creeping sense of awareness. Mina was beautiful. Magnetic. The kind of girl men didn’t just get over.

“Mimi!” exclaimed Vivi, immediately forgetting about her question as she rose to give Mina a kiss on the cheek. “Tell me everything about last night.”

Mina rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. “Later, love. Food is top priority right now,” she said as she turned to give Jules a kiss, too.

You froze for a second when she turned to you. “Hey,” you said dryly, leaning in as she moved to kiss your cheek.

“You look knackered,” she said, almost kindly. “Late night?”

You forced a shrug, praying no one noticed the spike in your pulse. “Something like that.”

“Oh, she’s had a good night alright,” Vivi teased, nudging your arm playfully. “Wouldn’t tell us who the lucky guy was, though.”

You sighed, feigning indifference. “Give it a rest, Viv.”

“Yeah, leave the poor girl alone. Let’s go get something to eat before we all pass out.”

The rest of the day was torture. Between classes and casual conversation, you nodded along, smiled at the right times. But inside, you were spiraling.

You hated the way your stomach tensed every time Mina spoke. Hated how you couldn’t look at her too long without remembering the weight of Vernon’s body on yours. His hands, his mouth. His raspy voice in your ear.

The guilt sat quietly in your chest, not loud or dramatic, but constant. You’d never really felt it like this before—this itchy, unplaceable guilt that followed you from the café to the lecture hall, even during your brief moments alone between classes. It only left you alone when Mina wasn’t there. When it was just you, breathing in an empty hallway or listening to the professor yap about theories and whatnot.

By the time your final class ended, you were drained in a way you couldn’t explain. The others were already discussing dinner—some new bistro that had opened just a few blocks from campus.

“It’s cute, and they do cocktails,” Vivi said, tugging at your arm. “Come on, you’ve been weird all day.”

“I have a deadline,” you said, wincing at how unconvincing you sounded. “Digital storytelling.”

“Sounds fake but okay,” Jules said, already turning to Mina, who was too distracted flipping through her phone to press.

You waved them off with a tight smile and walked away before anyone could question it further.

The taxi ride home was quiet. You watched the city pass by, lights flickering in windows and street signs. And as the car rolled to a stop in front of your apartment complex, your heart started picking up pace.

There he was, leaning against the hood of his car, hoodie on, hands in his pockets, head bowed slightly as he stared at the ground like he’d been waiting a while. He looked up as your taxi pulled in, his gaze locking with yours through the windshield.

You stepped out slowly, paying the driver without breaking eye contact. “What are you doing here?” you asked, genuinely confused.

Vernon straightened, giving you a half-smile. “Hi. I texted you.”

“My phone was dead,” you replied, standing in front of him, keeping a reasonable distance.

“I see,” he said, nodding. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to grab dinner with me.”

“It’s past nine o’clock.”

He paused. “I know. But I texted you earlier. I didn’t know your class would finish this late.”

You shrugged, arms folding across your chest. “So? Why did you come all the way here?”

Vernon’s brows creased, like he didn’t understand why you had to ask. “I came to see you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to,” Vernon replied, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

You didn’t answer, just looked at him, unsure what to do with the sudden flutter in your chest. It made you nervous.

“You’re standing kind of far,” he said, squinting at the space between you. “That’s not very welcoming.”

Before you could respond, he reached forward and tugged you in by the hem of your jacket, pulling you close until you were flush against him. You gasped, hands automatically landing on his chest. You glanced over your shoulder, scanning the street like someone might’ve followed you.

“Vernon,” you warned, trying to take a step back, but his arms wrapped around your waist before you could. He caged you in, not forcefully, just firmly enough to keep you in place.

“What?” he lilted and then leaned in to kiss you.

It was softer than you expected. Less urgent than last time. When he pulled back, you blinked at him, half-dazed. 

“We are not in the kind of relationship where we can do that in public,” you chided, rolling your eyes. “In fact, we’re not even in any kind of relationship at all.”

He tilted his head. “You sure? ‘Cause I asked you if you wanted to go out with me.”

“When?”

“Last night. You didn’t say yes, but I kind of assumed it was a done deal after this morning,” he explained, smiling.

You frowned. “What—wait. I thought you meant ‘go out’ like hang out sometimes, not a… relationship.”

Vernon scoffed, looking baffled. “No. That’s— come on.” He sighed and shook his head. “Baby, I don’t do hook-ups.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? So you talked to me once and decided you want me to be your girlfriend?”

He chuckled softly, brushing a thumb along your jaw. “Come on now, that wasn’t the first time we talked. We’ve hung out several times before.”

“Oh yeah, there’s that too.” You pushed yourself away from him. “We’ve hung out before when you were still seeing Mina. You know? My friend Mina?”

Vernon sighed, his shoulders slouching as he leaned back on his car again. “Mina and I broke up weeks ago.”

“Doesn’t really change the fact that your ex is my friend.”

His brows furrowed, but you cut him off before he could say anything. “And I know it might seem a bit hypocritical coming from me because, well, I did make the sound decision to sleep with you despite it all. But that was just the moment. Plus the alcohol. We were vibing, having a good time and got carried away. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” Vernon repeated.

“I said what I said.”

He paused. “So, it didn’t mean anything?”

“Maybe it didn’t,” you said, softer than you meant to.

His eyes flicked over you, unreadable. “Did it?”

You swallowed but said nothing.

Vernon didn’t press. He just stood there, his gaze steady, lips parted like he wanted to say more but knew better. You looked at him then, properly. The slouched posture, the furrowed brows, the hint of disappointment in his voice. Not the smug guy who had you pinned in the shower hours ago. Just a boy standing by your curb, asking if it meant something.

You could’ve walked away. You should’ve. That would’ve been the responsible thing, the friend thing, the safe thing. But your feet didn’t move.

You did a quick mental math. Vernon, as Mina’s ex: a con. Vernon, as the guy who made your heart race, your knees weak and cooked you actual breakfast: a decent-sized pro.

Mina and Vernon were done. Everyone knew that, even Mina had started going on dates lately. You hadn’t broken any sacred code exactly… right? Maybe there was a statute of limitations on exes. You didn’t exactly plan for this to happen. But it did. Somehow, it did.

And yeah, maybe this was messy. Maybe it would come back to bite you. But maybe it wouldn’t.

You sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead like the thought gave you a headache. “Fine,” you muttered, dropping your hand. “Let’s do it.”

A crooked smile spread across his face, canines peeking through as if he couldn’t quite hide how pleased he was. “You sound like you’re being forced into this.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t say anything. You just turned toward your door and started walking away. You’d taken a few steps ahead when you noticed Vernon wasn’t following you.

“Are you coming or not?” you called out without glancing back.

“I’m coming,” he said briskly, and you could hear him shuffling before you felt his arm around your waist, followed by a soft kiss just below your ear.

Vernon, it turned out, was a pretty decent boyfriend. Not the flowers-and-sonnets type, he wasn’t exactly sweet but he was thoughtful. Considerate. The kind who remembered something you’d said in passing and sent you screenshots of memes that reminded him of you mid-lecture. A little deadpan sometimes, but surprisingly funny when he wanted to be.

You didn’t go out on dates much. Most of the time, you hung out in your apartment. Late-night fast food runs. Coffee breaks in between classes. And those long, lazy evenings where you both lay on the floor listening to whatever playlist he was obsessed with that week.

“I’m telling you,” he said one night, head resting on your thigh as you sat on the floor scrolling through your phone. “This guy’s gonna be the next big thing.”

“Vernon, that’s the third SoundCloud rapper you’ve said that about this week.”

He just grinned up at you, fingers lightly stroking the bare skin under your hoodie. “One of them’s bound to make it. Law of averages.”

He was freaky, too. Always touching, always finding a way to close the space between you. Whether it was sliding up behind you while you brushed your teeth or slipping his hand under your shirt while you were trying to find a movie to stream.

“You’re like a raccoon in heat,” you complained once, swatting him away as he kissed the back of your neck. “You don’t even ask.”

“You never say no,” he muttered into your shoulder, sniffing your skin afterwards like he was addicted to it.

You rolled your eyes, half-laughing. “That’s not the same thing.”

But you didn’t push him away. You never really did.

He was bold, sure, but not pushy. Just… shameless, really. Just always in the mood. Always ready to turn a casual kiss into something steamier. And he made it funny, somehow. Endearing. Like he wasn’t taking himself too seriously, but couldn’t help himself either.

And it wasn’t just about the physicality—he liked looking at you. Really looking. Sometimes it made you squirm, that intensity in his eyes like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

“You’re doing it again,” you said one evening after, still breathless and sprawled across your bed.

He propped his head up on one hand. “Doing what?”

“You’re staring.”

“I like staring at you,” he admitted. “You’re really pretty.”

You scoffed, tossing a pillow at him. “You are such a liar.”

He laughed and caught the pillow mid-air. “No, seriously. You’re way too good for me. You could do better.”

“Don’t say stuff like that,” you muttered, fixing your gaze on the ceiling. “That’s not funny.”

His smile faded a little, just enough. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just kissed him again. Lightly. Like a thank-you. Like a stop-talking-now.

You never told your friends.

At first, it was just easier that way. Although it did make you feel guilty and anxious. You knew they’d find out eventually—especially since Vernon didn’t seem all that interested in hiding it—but for now, you did what you could to keep things under wraps. Avoided walking too close on campus. Left his name out of your stories.

Anyway, you’d just started. You weren’t even sure if it was serious yet.

You kept telling yourself that. It wasn’t serious. You weren’t serious. Just vibing, having fun, seeing where it went.

Except… day by day, you kept falling for him. Little by little. The way your stomach flipped whenever his name lit up your phone. The way your day never really felt done until you’d seen him.

It was a slow Saturday afternoon when the knock came. You weren’t expecting him—you hadn’t even texted him yet—but when you opened the door in your oversized pajamas, there he was, standing with a plastic bag in one hand and a smug look on his face.

And a buzz cut.

You stared, jaw dropping. “No way,” you blurted, blinking at him like he’d shown up with a new face. “What is that?”

Vernon grinned, stepping inside as he rubbed his head. “A haircut?”

“No, that’s shapeshifting,” you said, clinging to him and tiptoeing a little to poke his head. “Where’s your hair? Where’s my hair? I liked your hair.”

“I just thought I’d cut it for a change,” he said, setting the bag on your kitchen counter like nothing was wrong. “It’s just hair.”

“Wrong. It was beautiful hair,” you argued, crossing your arms. “It was soft. Brown. Touchable. Now you look like you’re enlisting.”

That made him laugh out loud, head lolling back and all. “Come on. I brought snacks.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but then reached up to gently rub a hand over his buzzed scalp, curiosity winning over irritation. It felt... nice, actually. Warm. Neat.

He tilted his head, giving you a little side-eye. “See? You love it.”

You dropped your hand, huffing. “Fine. It looks good on you.”

Vernon smirked. “So, you’re into it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

He stepped in closer, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. “I know you like grabbing my hair when I’m down there, but I assure you, the haircut won’t affect my performance at all.”

You snorted, though you decided to play along. “I’m sure it won’t, but what about me then? Where will I hold on to?”

Vernon appeared to think, then lifted your hands to the back of his head. “You can hold onto the head.”

You giggled, pushing him away. “Stay away from me, Private Chwe.”

But you didn’t really mean it. Because a few minutes later, you were curled up on the couch with your legs over his lap, sharing a bag of chips and casually running your fingers over his fuzzy head every now and then.

It was late. You were curled up in bed with Vernon, the room dim except for the soft glow of your phone screen. He’d knocked out not long after your second round, arm slung over your waist and his breath warm against your shoulder. You hadn’t moved, just mindlessly scrolling and letting the post-sex haze stretch a little longer.

He stirred behind you, mumbling something incoherent and making you glance over your shoulder. “Hmm?”

No response. His arm tightened around your middle slightly, and then, just barely awake, he muttered, “Go to sleep, Minmin.”

You froze. It was quiet, almost just a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear.

He didn’t even realize he’d said it. You could tell by how his breathing deepened again right after, like nothing happened, like he hadn’t just called you by her name.

You turned back to your screen, but the words there blurred. Your stomach twisted tight and cold. You knew it wasn’t on purpose. Knew he hadn’t meant it. Knew people said weird shit in their sleep all the time. But still.

You locked your phone and willed yourself to sleep after that.

From the start, you told yourself it was fine—Mina and Vernon were over, she was moving on, you hadn’t done anything technically wrong. But “technically” was doing a lot of heavy lifting. Because the truth was, Vernon wasn’t just some guy you met. He was Mina’s ex. Mina, your friend, the sweetest girl you’d ever known.

You hadn’t pried into their relationship much. Mina liked to keep those things private—she wasn’t the type to air out dirty laundry unless it was already halfway down the street. But in a friend group like yours, sometimes things slip. You knew they were on-and-off for two years. Knew that sometimes she’d show up to brunch with puffy eyes and a thin smile. Knew she once admitted she loved him, but called him exhausting in the same breath.

As her boyfriend, Vernon never really hung out much with all of you. He was always just a name, a shadow in the corner. Mina liked to keep her worlds separate: her friends, her boyfriend, her self. Clean boundaries. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to pretend he was just your Vernon now.

Until he sleep-mumbled her name. After that, you started seeing her everywhere.

In his car—her music taste still in the saved playlists on his stereo. A cracked compact mirror in the glove box. One of those pink hair ties looped around the gear shift.

In his phone—random photos of her mixed in with others. Her caller ID and photo still unchanged. Even in Vernon himself. Mannerisms. Phrases. Words he’d unintentionally—maybe even unconsciously—say with an accent. You hadn’t noticed it before, but now, in your ears, it was unmistakably her. Mina rubbed off on people that way.

But it was his house that really got you.

The first time you stayed over, you didn’t notice much. You were too wrapped up in the moment, in him. But when you started spending more time there—sober, dressed, paying attention—you saw her. In the closets. The bathroom drawers. Earrings in the dish on the nightstand. A polaroid photo tucked in the back of a book you grabbed off his shelf. Her smile. His arm around her.

They were everywhere, those little echoes. Maybe he didn’t even know they were still there. Or maybe he did, and just didn’t care enough to clear them out.

And that was awful because it meant you were walking through a space still haunted by someone else. Living in the leftover corners of someone else’s love.

You hadn’t said anything yet. You weren’t sure if you would. But ever since that night, since Minmin slipped out of his mouth and his arms curled around you like it didn’t mean a thing, something had changed. You couldn’t unsee it.

You couldn’t unfeel it either.

“Okay, spill. Who is he?” Jules demanded one day, putting her cup down a little too firmly.

You were halfway through your iced coffee, huddled in the corner booth of your usual café. “Who?” you asked dumbly.

Jules and Vivi exchanged a look like they were tired of your bullshit. “The guy you’ve been sneaking around with,” Vivi said, folding her arms. “Don’t act clueless. You’ve been weird for weeks. Dodgy. Distracted. Glowing.”

“Glowing?” you scoffed, aiming for a laugh, but it came out strained.

“Yes, bitch. Glowing. And don’t think we haven’t noticed how you vanish every weekend,” Jules added, leaning in. “We want a name.”

“I don’t vanish every weekend, not all the time,” you said quickly, but they weren’t buying it. You tried to keep your voice casual. “I’ve just been… busy.”

“Busy getting laid,” Vivi muttered into her straw.

You rolled your eyes. “Can I have some privacy?”

“Sure,” Jules said. “But you’re making it weird by being so cagey. We just wanna know who’s been putting that look on your face.”

You could feel the walls closing in. They meant well—you knew that. But their faces were too expectant, too trusting. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t drop the name and watch their expressions change. Couldn’t say Vernon and watch Jules flinch, or Vivi blink twice and say “Mina’s Vernon?” like she’d misheard.

So you laughed and said, “It’s nothing serious. Just someone I’m kinda seeing. No labels or anything.”

Jules groaned. “Ugh. Boring.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You deflected just enough to wriggle free, changed the subject, let the attention drift elsewhere. But even as the conversation moved on, something in you stayed stuck.

Because the truth sat heavy in your chest, pressing down harder now.

Your friends weren’t dumb. They’d figure it out eventually. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but they will. And what then?

You hadn’t meant to pull away, but you could feel it happening. You texted less. Skipped the group chats more. Turned down plans with vague excuses. Not because you didn’t love them—but because it was easier to not be around them. To not have to lie.

And yeah, it was the guilt.

Not just because Vernon was Mina’s ex, but because it was all happening behind their backs. The secrecy made it feel worse. Like every kiss you shared with him, carved a little more distance between you and the people who used to know you best.

You didn’t want to imagine what they’d say. How they’d look at you. Whether they’d be angry, or just… disappointed. You didn’t want to imagine Mina’s face at all.

So you didn’t. You smiled. You laughed. You swallowed the guilt.

On one sunny Sunday morning, you were stretched out on a lounge chair, legs crossed, eyes fixed on the glistening ripples on the pool. Vernon lay next to you, arms behind his head, chest rising and falling slowly, with a small towel draped over his eyes to block the light.

“Are your parents away?” you asked, squinting at the house behind you. “I haven’t really seen them around.”

He hummed, slow and lazy. “Yeah. Dad’s busy with business. Mom’s a diplomat so she’s not around much.”

You nodded, letting that settle for a second. “Do you have siblings?”

“I have a younger sister. Sofia. She’s in high school back in Seoul.” 

“Are you close?”

“Pretty much.” He pulled the towel down briefly to peek at you. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” you said with a shrug. “I’m nosy.”

He smiled faintly and pushed the towel back over his eyes. You watched the pool glimmer and shift in the sunlight. You picked at a thread on your cover-up. “It’s a nice house.”

“Yeah. A little sterile, though. My mom decorated it like a hotel.”

You gave a short laugh. “It kinda does feel like a resort.”

He hummed again. “No one’s around much anyway.”

Silence fell between you, broken only by the low splash of water against the pool's edge and the occasional rustle of leaves overhead.

You turned your head toward him. “You know… I ask a lot of questions.”

“Mmm?”

“You don’t really ask me much,” you said, watching him carefully.

Vernon peeled the towel off and cracked one eye open at you. “Huh. Yeah. I guess I don’t.” There was no apology in his voice. No defensiveness either. Just a simple sort of agreement, like you’d pointed out the weather.

You pushed up slightly on your elbow. “Why not?”

“I just… don’t ask a lot of questions,” he said with a shrug, propping himself up a little too. “I usually just let people talk and pick up on stuff naturally.”

That made your stomach twist a little. “So… you’re not curious about me?”

“It’s not that,” he said, glancing at you with a casual smile. He reached to cup your face, pressing a soft kiss on your lips before saying, “I like being around you. I don’t need to interrogate you to figure you out.”

You stared at him for a moment. He looked utterly at ease, like this was just another afternoon in a long string of afternoons. And maybe for him, it was.

But for you, it wasn’t. You wanted to be known. To be seen.

You tried to swallow the ache rising in your chest, brushing it off. “Right. I just—yeah, okay.”

He reached over absently, fingers brushing your knee. “I’m sorry. I suck at talking sometimes.”

You nodded. Smiled even. But your heart didn’t quite settle. Because he was right. He did suck at talking sometimes. But the problem was, you didn’t. You liked talking, you liked getting to know him.

And his indifference, for you, was starting to feel like rejection in disguise.

The days that followed were… good. Objectively speaking. Late brunches that turned into grocery runs that turned into him falling asleep on your couch while you watched something he picked but never finished. Evenings spent trying new recipes in his too-perfect kitchen, burning things, laughing about it, ordering pizza instead.

You had your routines. A shared toothbrush at both houses. A playlist that lived in his car, mostly because it was your Spotify account and you liked to DJ from the passenger seat. He never complained. He liked what you liked, or at least pretended to.

There were always the moments, too. The soft ones. Like when he laced your fingers together without thinking about it. Or when he reached out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear while talking about something completely unrelated. Or when he’d murmur, “Come here,” and pull you against him with a kiss that felt like it could break you in half. In the best way.

And still, you couldn’t stop your brain from running circles around itself. Because he’d say things like “This café’s got the best chai latte—I used to come here all the time,” and your stomach would drop.

Used to. With who?

He’d point at a movie on your screen and go, “Oh, I’ve seen this already. Mina made me watch it like eight times,” and not even flinch.

He didn't even seem to notice. And maybe that was what made it worse. That he could speak her name like it was just another fact. Like it didn’t send you into a spiral. Like it didn’t feel like being poked in a bruise you were trying hard to pretend didn’t exist.

You never told him when it happened. Never asked him to stop. You didn’t want to seem petty. You didn’t want to be that girl—the one who made everything about the ex.

But sometimes it would stick with you the whole day. Sit heavy in your chest like something sharp you accidentally swallowed. And you’d try to shrug it off while you were sitting across from him at a café, laughing about something stupid he said. Or in his bed, legs tangled together, your heart beating a little too fast, hoping he didn’t notice the way your smile faltered every time he kissed you and wondered if he was seeing you or someone else.

You hated how jealous you were. Not of Mina herself—but of the time Vernon had spent with her. How embedded she was in his life. How the memory of her clung to everything, like faint perfume on old clothes.

And the worst part? He wasn’t trying to hurt you. You knew that. He was just being Vernon. Which only made it harder to justify how mad you felt. Because how could you fault someone for not reading your mind?

“You okay?” Yuna asked, tugging you out of your musings.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Yuna didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t push. You were on campus, sitting on a bench seat at the quad, sipping your matcha when Jules and Mina strolled over mid-convo.

“—she looks like she’s going through something,” Jules was saying, phone in hand. “I saw her IG story. She bleached her hair again.”

“Again?” Mina snorted. “What is it with women and changing our hair every time we feel feelings?”

Yuna laughed. “It’s girlhood, babe. We don’t need a reason for it.”

“You know who else had a hairstyle change lately?” Vivi joined in, showing her phone screen for everyone to see. “Vernon Chwe.”

You almost spat your drink. Luckily, they were all too focused on Vivi’s phone to notice. 

“Oh my god, he got a buzz cut?” Mina exclaimed, chuckling. “It looks good.”

Vivi hummed. “Yeah, well, he’s lucky he’s blessed with good looks. But it definitely looks like he’s processing.”

“Or that he’s moved on with his life,” Jules said matter-of-factly. 

“What’s he even doing lately?” Yuna asked, turning to Mina. “Has he been trying to talk to you again?”

Mina shook her head, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “Nope. And thank goodness. We are absolutely, completely over.”

That should’ve been reassuring. Should’ve been your green light. But instead, you just sat there, fingers clenched around your cup. Mina didn’t sound hurt. She sounded like someone who had moved on. You should’ve felt relieved. Instead, you felt small.

The rest of the day passed in a fog. You made excuses to go home early, told Vernon you had to work on something, even though all you did was sit in your room, scrolling your phone and staring at nothing.

You hadn’t told your friends. You hadn’t told anyone. But now, even without opening your mouth, it felt like the secret was slipping out anyway.

And the worst part? You were starting to feel like you didn’t belong anywhere—too dishonest for your friends, too temporary for Vernon. Teetering, always, on the edge.

The annual interdepartmental sports meet was always full of energy and chaos in the best way. Overcrowded gyms, matching shirts in clashing colors, and a week’s worth of trash talk between departments that took themselves way too seriously. You weren’t exactly a hardcore athlete, but when your department needed players for the volleyball team, you and Jules had said yes before thinking twice. It was supposed to be fun. A way to bond with classmates and rack up a few points for team spirit.

But now, standing courtside with sweat already gathering at the back of your neck and nerves tying knots in your stomach, it felt bigger than that.

Because Vernon was there.

You spotted him just before warm-ups ended—seated halfway up the bleachers, water bottle in hand, eyes focused on you. He didn’t cheer or wave. He didn’t need to. Just knowing he was there made you happy.

On the opposite side of the gym, your friends were already making a scene. Mina, in her oversized jacket and Vivi in sunglasses, even though you were indoors, were yelling like it was the World Cup. The others were scattered around them, with poster board signs in hand. They had no idea Vernon was here. They probably spotted him, but they definitely didn’t know he was here for you.

The whistle blew, and the game began.

The PE department had always been a formidable opponent. Every serve they hit came in like a missile, and you were convinced one of their blockers had arms made of steel. Still, your team fought back—scrambling, diving, shouting encouragements across the net.

Vernon didn’t look away once.

You scored a couple of solid points—enough to get your friends hollering your name from across the court—and for a moment, you forgot about everything. The guilt, the secrets, the constant balancing act. All you cared about was the high of the game and the thrill of being seen.

But the PE team was too good, and the final set ended with their victory. Just like that, it was over.

You were still catching your breath when your friends swarmed you.

“You. Are. Insane!” Vivi said dramatically. “Be honest, you guys have invisible wings, don’t you?”

“No?” you chuckled, smiling apologetically as you watched Jules wipe her face when your sweat smeared her after a hug. 

“But you girls were flying!”

“Yeah? Well, wings or not, we lost anyway,” Yuna pouted, shoulders sagging.

Mina rolled her eyes. “Darling, it’s PE. Athletics are rigged in their favor every year.”

“Or they’re just that much better than we were,” you said matter-of-factly.

Mina shook her head disapprovingly. “We’re getting celebratory boba anyway, win or lose.”

Their affection came in shouting, hugging, someone sticking a phone in your face for selfies. And in all the noise, all the praise, you glanced up toward the bleachers.

Vernon was already standing. He met your gaze across the gym and lifted his hand in a small wave. Your heart flipped. You wanted to run to him. To hear what he thought of the game, of you. But you couldn’t. Not here, anyway.

So you waved back, just once, hoping it said all the things you couldn’t say out loud. Then your friends pulled you in another direction and Vernon disappeared into the crowd, just like that.

You’d spent the whole day surrounded by friends, moving from post-game snacks to the campus fashion exhibit where Vivi was showing off her latest collection. The group had squealed and clapped when she won a prize, and you were just buzzed enough from pride and fizzy drinks to forget for a little while that Vernon was waiting.

But there he was, leaned up against the stairwell railing in front of your apartment when you finally got home. Hoodie, backwards cap, and a grin that’s smoother than butter.

“Took you long enough,” he said, stepping forward to help carry your tote. “Didn’t think watching models in boxy dresses would take this long.”

You snorted. “They were avant-garde, thank you very much.”

Inside, you kicked your shoes off and beelined for the bathroom. “Give me ten minutes to rinse off before I pass out,” you called behind you.

Vernon’s voice floated in casually. “Make it five. Any longer and I’ll assume you’re crying over your loss.”

You rolled your eyes in the shower.

By the time you emerged, skin damp and cozy in a fresh set of shorts and a cropped tee, he was sprawled on your bed, scrolling on his phone. He looked up the moment he heard you, his head cocking slightly as his eyes ran over your still-wet hair and bare legs.

You dropped down beside him with a dramatic sigh. “Everything hurts.”

“Your pride?” he chuckled. “Those PE girls are a different breed, it’s not your fault.”

“My back, you clown,” you muttered, flopping forward onto the mattress.

“I’d be surprised if it didn’t. You were all over the court.” He put his phone down and shifted closer. “Good thing I’m excellent at back rubs. Among other things.”

You turned your head to give him a look. “How excellent?”

“Guess you’ll have to let me show you,” he said, pushing you gently on the bed so you were lying on your belly. 

He climbed over you, straddling your thighs as he pressed his hands on your lower back, kneading slow circles over your aching muscles. The pressure was good, soothing in the first two minutes, until you noticed his hands kept creeping under your shirt.

“I can smell your ulterior motives from here,” you said into the mattress, eyes closed and basking in the relaxing pressure he was putting on your muscles.

“Ulterior what?” he said innocently, still kneading with one hand while the other shamelessly cupped your ass.

You let out a soft laugh. “You’re such an animal. I should sue you for this.”

He leaned forward until his chest brushed your back, lips right by your ear. “Come on. Let me make you feel good.”

You could feel his hard-on against the back of your thigh, his breath warm on your neck. You gave a whine of protest, but it was already dissolving as he kissed down the curve of your shoulder, teeth grazing lightly, hands moving more intentionally.

“Turn over,” he murmured, voice a little rough now.

You obeyed without thinking, shifting under him until he was settled between your legs, tugging your shirt up and over your head. He looked down at you for a second, eyes dark with desire, but there was something tender there too. Admiration, affection.

“You really killed it today,” he said, thumbs stroking the skin just under your bra. “Even if you lost.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Were you even watching the game?”

“I was watching,” he grinned. “Not the game, though.”

Your forehead creased and he kissed that space between your brows.

“You in those shorts, jumping around? I almost embarrassed myself on the bleachers,” he added, grinding against you.

You gasped, smacking his arm. “Vernon!”

He caught your wrist, guiding it down between your bodies. “Here. Feel what you did to me.”

Your breath hitched as your hand grazed him through his sweats, thick and hard and hot under the fabric. You curled your fingers around him, watching his jaw flex as he pressed into your touch.

“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as your hand started to move. “You’re not helping my self-control right now.”

You smiled, tilting your head up so your lips grazed his jaw. “Since when did you have any?”

That earned you a low laugh, one that vibrated through his chest as he tugged your shorts down your hips, leaving you in just your panties. He dipped his head to kiss your stomach, then lower, his mouth leaving a warm trail on your skin as his hands gripped your thighs to spread them apart.

“Were you thinking about this in the shower?” he murmured against your underwear.

You let out a breathy moan, fingers threading through his hair as he nuzzled you. “I was thinking about sleep.”

“Liar.” He grinned up at you, wicked and boyish, before dragging his tongue along the edge of your panties, making you twitch.

When he finally pulled them aside and licked a long, slow stripe up your folds, your back arched off the bed. His hands were firm on your thighs, keeping you open, keeping you still, even as you writhed. He worked you over with maddening control, slow flicks of his tongue, then deep, insistent sucking, then back again. You were already panting, hips rolling into his mouth, desperate for more.

“God, Vernon��” you gasped, fingers digging into his nape.

He hummed in response, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your spine. One of his fingers slipped inside you, curling just right, and your breath broke. He added another, fucking you slow and deep while his mouth stayed busy, tongue teasing your clit until your thighs started to tremble.

“Come on, babe,” he whispered against you. “Let me have it.”

Your orgasm hit hard, blinding and hot, a shuddering wave that tore through you as you cried out his name. He didn’t stop until you were twitching, breathless, pushing weakly at his head.

He crawled back up your body, grinning smugly. “How’s your back?”

You were too dazed to answer, grabbing his shirt and yanking it up over his head. “Take your pants off.”

“Ooh. Bossy.” He complied without hesitation, kicking off his sweats and boxers. His cock slapped against his stomach, flushed, thick and already leaking. You stared for a second before reaching for him, but he caught your wrist.

He grabbed one of your legs, hooked it around his waist, and lined himself up. “Ready?”

You nodded, lips parted, and he slid in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open until he was fully inside. You clung to him, gasping into his shoulder.

“Fuck, you feel unreal,” he growled, holding still for a second as if trying to compose himself. Then he started to move.

His thrusts were deep and slow at first, but it didn’t take long for him to pick up speed. You locked your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, chasing that burn, that fullness. The room was filled with the sound of skin on skin, of breathless moans, and the creak of your bed frame.

He kissed you between thrusts, messy, open-mouthed, like he couldn’t get enough. His hand found yours above your head, fingers lacing with yours as he pushed harder, faster, hitting that perfect spot over and over again until you couldn’t help but pull away from his lips so you could moan out of ecstasy.

“I love it when you make that face,” he panted, canine grin gracing his face. “Like I’ve got you losing your mind.”

You were losing your mind. You were close again, tighter and wetter and needier than before, every nerve ending on fire. You clutched his hand tightly, clinging into it like a lifeline.

“I’m gonna—” you barely managed.

“I know,” he murmured, biting at your jaw. “Come for me again. I’ve got you.”

And you did—body locking up beneath him as you came hard, muffling your scream into his shoulder. He followed with a low, broken groan, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you, his whole body trembling with it.

He collapsed on top of you, panting, sweaty, and smug. After a few minutes of catching his breath, he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“How did you like my ulterior motives?”

You couldn’t even speak. You just let out a soft, dazed laugh, chest rising and falling beneath his.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he grinned.

You lay together on the messy bed, his arms wrapped around you while your head rested on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. You could feel the sticky warmth between your legs, the light throb of overstimulated muscles, but none of it felt uncomfortable. Just, intimate. Like all of him was still inside you somehow, even after he’d pulled out.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured, lips brushing your forehead.

You hummed and closed your eyes. “Barely. You ruined me.”

“That’s my love language,” he said smugly, lifting your chin so he could kiss you.

Your eyes fluttered open. “You’re so annoying.”

He grinned. “You say that, but you never kick me out.”

“Because my legs don’t work right now.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You let out a quiet laugh, turning onto your side to face him. He looked like a handsome mess—his skin flushed, lips still kiss-swollen, and somehow, in this disheveled, post-sex haze, he looked lovely. Boyish. Completely unguarded. It made your chest ache with affection.

He stared back at you, brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek. “You were really good today. At the game, I mean.”

Your brow arched. “Are you saying I wasn’t good just now?”

“Hey,” he said quickly, laughter in his voice. “You were great just now. I’m still seeing stars. I’m just saying… I was proud of you. Watching you out there.”

The words hit somewhere deep in your chest, too warm, too sweet. You looked down at his hand, now resting over your ribcage. “You didn’t even sit on our team’s side of the court.

“Well, your friends were there. I thought you wouldn’t want me somewhere near them,” he admitted. “Since they don’t know about us.”

You nodded. You didn’t need the reminder. The guilt still lived under your skin like a bruise that hadn’t healed.

“I’ll tell them soon,” you said, mostly to yourself.

Vernon didn’t push. He just leaned in and kissed your temple. “Take your time. I quite enjoy feeling like someone’s dirty little mistress.”

You chuckled heartily, letting your eyes fall shut again, breathing him in. You stayed like that for a moment, pressed against him, warm and full but still not entirely at peace. His “dirty little mistress” joke echoed in your head. Not because it wasn’t funny—it was, in a Vernon kind of way—but because it reminded you of the reality you kept tucking under the rug. That this was still a secret.

“Hey,” you said after a pause. “Can I ask you something?”

He glanced down at you, relaxed. “Go ahead, baby. You always ask me something anyway.”

You ignored the tease. “What really happened between you and Mina?”

Vernon blinked, visibly surprised, but not thrown. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… why did you break up? Like, for good.”

He didn’t answer right away, and part of you hoped he wouldn’t. That he’d brush it off. But he didn’t.

He sat up a little, leaning back against your headboard, his hand sliding away from your waist. “We just… stopped making sense, I guess. At first it was great. But I kept fucking up. I wasn’t always present. She needed consistency, and I was all over the place back then.”

You stayed quiet, letting him speak.

“I didn’t even realize how much I was hurting her until she’d already started checking out. We kept going in circles. Break up, I try to figure out what I did wrong, get back together, repeat. I guess she got tired. By the time I got serious, she didn’t want it anymore.” He let out a laugh, one that was bitter and self-deprecating. “She said loved me. I loved her too. But love doesn’t mean shit if you don’t put in the effort to make it work.”

You watched the way his face softened, the way his gaze drifted toward something far away, something not in this room. You wondered if he even realized it.

“I used to wish I was better, you know,” he added quietly. “For her.”

Something twisted in your chest. You sat up, pulling the blanket to your chest even though you weren’t cold. “You still wish that?”

His eyes flicked to yours. “What?”

“For her. You still wish you were better for her right now?”

He blinked, confused. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

“But it’s what you said.” You tried not to sound hurt.

He sat up straighter, brow furrowed. “I know, but it’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I meant I used to wish I was— wait. Are we gonna fight about this?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I just—” You faltered, heart racing, lump forming in your throat. “I just wanted to know if you’re over her.”

“I am.”

“You don’t sound like it.”

“Because I said I used to wish I was better?”

“Because you said it like you still do.”

His expression hardened, just a little. “Baby, I told you, that is not what I meant. Hold on. You asked me to tell you. And now you’re mad because I did?”

“I’m not mad,” you said, voice rising. “I’m just— I don’t know. I thought hearing you talk about it would make me feel better.”

“Okay…? Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know, Vernon.” You laughed, hollow. “Maybe from me pretending not to notice that your whole life still has her fingerprints all over it.”

Vernon stared at you like he didn’t know what to say and that silence only made your chest ache even more.

“I knew I was a rebound,” you said, voice lower now. “I’ve always known. But I’m so tired of feeling like one.”

“Come on, you’re not a—”

“Don’t lie to me and say I’m not, Vernon.”

His brows pulled together, but he didn’t argue and just sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

He ran a hand on his head, frustration starting to leak into his voice. “You never said anything. You never told me it bothered you that I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Because I wasn’t even planning to date you, Vernon!” you snapped, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them. “You’re the one who had to go and make me your girlfriend. You didn’t even give me a chance to think about what any of this meant before it already meant something.”

That shut him up. Completely. He stared at you, lips parted just slightly, as if he’d been mid-sentence but forgot how to make a sound.

“Come on, baby,” he said softly, a bitter laugh escaping. “You’re acting like I dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me,” you snapped. “You just… pulled me in so fast I didn’t have time to realize I didn’t want this.”

His expression cracked, like you’d just confirmed the worst thing he suspected about himself. “So what, this whole time you’ve just been regretting it?”

You didn’t say anything. You just looked at him. Steady. Honest.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Got it,” he added, voice tight as he reached for his hoodie on the chair. “Loud and clear.”

“Vernon…”

“It’s fine,” he said, already walking toward the door. “You don’t have to explain.”

You stood too, blanket falling from your shoulders. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Yeah. I think that makes two of us.”

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. The door clicked shut behind him.

The silence that followed was louder than anything you’d heard before. You stood there for a moment, staring at the door like maybe he’d come back, but the hallway stayed quiet. The echo of the door clicking shut still rang in your head.

You sank onto the edge of the bed, pulling the blanket around you again, but it didn’t help. You were still cold and it had nothing to do with your naked body and everything to do with what just left the room.

Your breath hitched as the first tear fell. Then another. And another. Until you couldn’t stop them, until your chest shook and your hand clutched the blanket like a lifeline.

You pressed your palm to your mouth, trying to quiet yourself, but it was no use. Your sobs still filled the entire apartment.

When you woke up the next day, your eyes were heavy and puffy. But you had classes later, so you tried your best to bring the swelling down and look completely normal. It worked; your eyes returned to normal, except for the redness on the corners that you couldn’t do anything about, no matter how much you tried.

And so you willed yourself to calm down, to face this day without the burden of the fight with Vernon weighing you down. To leave it all behind in the confines of your apartment.

But the moment you stepped into the deserted lecture hall where your friends were hanging out, you immediately felt the air around you change. Their attention immediately shifted to you, and you could already feel nervousness creep up your chest.

Vivi raised an eyebrow, her phone held up for you to see, and Mina—of course, it had to be Mina—was the first to speak.

“You and Vernon, huh?” she asked with a lilt in her voice, but you didn’t recognize that.

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t want to answer. Of all the timing in the world, this had to be the worst. You didn’t want them to know. Not like this. You were still spiraling from the fight with Vernon, trying to piece together what had just happened, and they were about to walk straight into the wreckage.

“Yeah, I’m seeing Vernon,” you snapped, more harshly than you intended. The words tasted bitter as you spat them out. “Mina’s Vernon.”

The moment you said it, it felt like the entire room was holding its breath. You could feel your palms sweating, your heart racing. They’d seen the Instagram story Vernon posted the day before. And they’d recognized you. It was so obvious, your reflection in the glass, the way you had been with him just the day before. But this wasn’t how you wanted them to find out. Not after the mess with Vernon.

“I didn’t want to tell you guys,” you snapped, the words tumbling out, sharp and jagged. “Because I knew you’d think I’m a terrible friend, that I’m some kind of asshole for getting with my friend’s ex. But I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, okay? It just did.” 

You felt the words spill out in a rush, but it didn’t feel like relief. It just felt like more of a mess. More of a disaster that you couldn’t control. “I was just having fun with him, alright? But now it’s all complicated, and I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing anymore. So sue me for being an asshole!”

The group exchanged glances. Vivi blinked, clearly caught off guard, but instead of the judgment you had prepared yourself for, she just scoffed. “You’re not an asshole. Calm down. Geez.”

She walked toward you, cautious at first, as if she feared you might lash out, and gently patted your shoulder. “It’s no big deal, really.”

“It’s a bit weird, yeah, but what does it matter?” Jules chimed in, glancing at Mina. “They’re broken up. It’s not like you’re trying to date him while they’re still together.”

Yuna nodded nonchalantly. “No one thinks you’re an asshole. If it feels right to you, who cares?”

You blinked, caught off guard by her acceptance. It wasn’t exactly the response you’d expected, not the condemnation you thought you’d face, not the judgment.But it didn’t matter much what they thought. It was Mina you were more worried about.

Mina, who had been silent the entire time, stood up and without a word, pulled you into a tight hug. You didn’t know how long you stayed there, in the comfort of her embrace, but it was long enough for you to start crying again. She didn’t say anything else. She just held you, as though she knew something had happened, as though she understood that this confrontation was a result of all the emotions you hadn’t let out before.

When she finally pulled away, you saw the understanding in her eyes. “You alright, love?”

You nodded, still sobbing. “Are you?”

“I’m fine, silly,” she said softly, smiling. “You’re not the first person to date someone’s ex, and you’re not doing anything wrong.”

You expected to hear some kind of anger, some kind of hurt, but instead she just sounded resigned.  After spending all those days worrying that you were a horrible friend, you needed more from her. You needed her to be mad, or at least to tell you that you were making a mistake.

“But... don’t you think it’s kind of—” You swallowed hard. “I don’t know, Mina, don’t you think it’s fucked up?”

She gave you an apologetic look, like she was trying to gauge how much of this you needed to hear. You saw her glancing over at Vivi, her face unreadable. “It’s not fucked up. If you’re happy with him, then you’re happy. I don’t see the point in holding on to grudges about who dates whom after a breakup. It is what it is.”

You could feel your heart sinking. The validation you had been searching for from her wasn’t coming. You almost wanted to scream at her, tell her she was wrong, that you had no idea what you were doing, that this was all so messed up. Everything felt like it was spinning out of control. And yet, she wasn’t angry. She wasn’t even mad. She was just unfazed.

And for some reason, that lack of anger felt like a thorn being plucked from your chest.

“Okay, girls, this is obviously something we need to unpack,” Jules said, slapping Vivi and Yuna on the back. “Let’s ditch class and blow off some steam.”

You chuckled bitterly, wiping your face as you tried to compose yourself. “Let’s not. It’s okay. I’m fine.”

Jules shook her head, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “No, you’re not.”

Vivi scoffed lightly. “You’re just looking for an excuse to run off.”

After a round of glances and a half-hearted protest from Yuna about attendance, the group had collectively decided that, for the sake of everyone’s emotional well-being (read: yours), the day should be devoted to ‘girlhood’. No lectures. No readings. No pretending everything was fine when something had clearly almost rattled your friend group.

You wound up spending the afternoon doing what you always did when one of you was getting some drama thrown your way—retail therapy, greasy food, dumb photo booth pictures you’d all cringe at later. The mall wasn’t particularly exciting, but it was the place you and your girls were most familiar with. You tried on sunglasses you didn’t intend to buy, stole fries off Mina’s plate, let Vivi drag you through every store offering a SALE. 

No one mentioned Vernon. No one had to. He wasn’t part of this detox, not part of this girlhood.

By the time evening rolled around, you’d collected a half-dozen shopping bags and a little more peace than you’d started the day with. The group voted on takeout from your favorite Korean fried chicken restaurant and decided to eat it at your place.

“Honestly, can’t remember the last time we hung out at your place,” Vivi said as she linked her arm around yours, peeking at your face with narrowed eyes. “I wonder why...”

Jules smirked. “It’s the boy, obviously.”

“Did that dude have you on lockdown?” Vivi asked, not even trying to be subtle.

You rolled your eyes, shifting the paper bag in your arms. “It’s not like that.”

But the teasing stopped as soon as you turned the corner onto your street. Because Vernon was there. Sitting on the steps outside your building, hoodie on, elbows on his knees, and eyes on the ground. He looked up at the sound of your voices and immediately stood.

You froze, the breath catching in your throat. Your friends didn’t.

“Absolutely not,” Vivi snapped, stepping in front of you before you could say anything. “Turn around.”

“What are you doing here, Vernon?” Mina added, moving to block his view of you. 

“I just wanna talk to her,” Vernon said, hands up like he knew exactly how bad this looked.

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” Vivi grimaced, feigning an apologetic look. “We have a thing and you’re not invited.”

You could see his jaw tighten at that, but he didn’t argue. 

“Go home, Vernon,” Mina said. “Maybe use this time to reflect, yeah?”

Vernon sighed. “How do you know this is my fault?”

Mina shrugged, glancing briefly at you. Vivi replied, “Doesn’t matter whose fault this is. It was you who made her cry. We don’t want you here.”

“Guys, this is between me and her, please.”

Your friends all turned to you with inquiring looks, suddenly making you feel nervous. You swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled. “Let’s go inside, girls.”

Vivi didn’t move until you did. Even as you stepped forward, she stayed close, her arm brushing against yours like a silent signal: “Just say the word, and I’ll swing.” Before trailing after the others, she paused just long enough to glance at Vernon over her shoulder.

You didn’t look at him. Not once. Just kept your eyes on the entrance, heart hammering, keys slipping slightly in your sweaty grip as you ushered the girls inside and shut the door behind you.

And for a while, everything felt normal again.

There was fried chicken on the table, open soda cans scattered across every surface, and someone had put on a feel-good playlist that kept the room alive with laughter and off-key singing. You danced barefoot on your living room floor with Yuna, both of you losing it over Vivi’s ridiculous two-step. Jules was perched on the back of your couch like a cat, chewing on a piece of tteokbokki and pretending to be unimpressed with everyone’s moves. Mina laughed so hard at one point she had to clutch her side and collapse onto a throw pillow.

You didn’t know who brought him up first. Maybe it was Jules, maybe it was Vivi throwing a not-so-subtle glance your way when the laughter finally began to quiet down. Either way, it was inevitable. You’d made it through the mall and dinner and two hours of messing around in your apartment without saying his name—but that silence had started to feel loud.

“So… Vernon,” Jules said, curled up on the far end of your couch, chopsticks dangling between her fingers. “Are we gonna talk about it or keep pretending we didn’t see the human roadblock outside earlier?”

You sighed, resting your chin on your hand. “There’s not much to say. We hooked up once, drunk, and it just kind of… kept happening. We were dating, I guess.”

“Just like that?” Vivi frowned. “He broke up with Mina, what, two seconds ago?”

“Exactly.” You let out a humorless laugh. “He said I wasn’t but I really felt like I was a rebound. Like he was just killing time with me until he figured his shit out. He didn’t ask questions about me, didn’t really seem interested in the things I liked. He said he liked being around me, said he liked me a lot and stuff—but it never felt like he was trying to know me.”

You sighed slowly, heart lighter now that you were able to talk about this. But there was something still catching in your throat. Something you couldn’t say. That it wasn’t just about how he acted—it was how you felt every time Mina’s name came up in conversation, or worse, when it didn’t. Like you were constantly living in the shadow of a relationship that you hadn’t witnessed but couldn’t stop imagining.

You didn’t say any of that. Your damn pride wouldn’t let you.

There was a pause. Yuna blinked and said, “Well, shit.”

“I mean,” Jules began slowly, “that’s valid, babe. It makes total sense you’d feel like a rebound. The whole situation was set up to make you feel that way.”

“He probably has commitment issues,” Vivi added with a scoff. “That or he didn’t take it seriously from the start. Not even trying to know you? That’s a red flag. Come on.”

But Mina, who had been quietly picking at the leftovers of dinner, surprisingly had other opinions.

“Vernon’s not really like that,” she said calmyl. Not defensive, not biting—just honest. “He’s not big on questions. He gets to know people by doing things with them, being around them. Not through twenty-questions or late-night heart-to-hearts.”

You glanced at her and it was Jules who asked, “So he’s not deep?”

“No, he is,” she said. “He just doesn’t show it the usual way. It took a while before I realized he liked me back then. He’s spontaneous. And he doesn’t like wasting time on things that don’t matter to him. So if this was just a rebound… that would actually be kind of weird for him.”

That made your chest tighten. The way Mina talked about him like she really knew him. Somehow, you thought it would be painful, but instead, your heart was tightening for an entirely different reason. 

Affection, and pride. Like a mom hearing other mothers praise your child for being well-behaved and smart.

“But,” she added, tone shifting slightly, “he does love bomb a little. When he’s into something, or someone, he throws himself all-in, fast. And sometimes it fizzles out just as fast. So maybe you’re right. Maybe it was temporary. But only Vernon knows how he really feels.”

There was a second of silence. Yuna finally muttered, “That’s so frustrating.”

“Tell me about it,” you mumbled.

Still, you appreciated Mina’s honesty. Her ability to speak about Vernon without bitterness, even if part of you wished she had been bitter. You wished someone had been angry enough to make you feel like you weren’t just spiraling alone.

“You want me to tell you something?” Jules said sternly, pointing a fork at you. “You deserve better.”

“Hear, hear!”

You knew that. You didn’t need people to tell you. You were smart enough to know you deserved better. That you shouldn’t be in a relationship if it feels unstable and uncertain.

But what use is better if Vernon is all you want? If, despite everything, you still wanted to be with him? 

You could unpack this with your girls, knowing they’d have enough angles and perspectives for you to help make a decision. But you didn’t wanna do that because this was something you had to figure out on your own. This was something only you and Vernon could talk about. This was between the two of you.

And your friends were good. They didn’t push further. They let you rest your head against the couch cushions again and made plans to sleep over next weekend. Normal things. Safe things.

And then, it was time to go. You walked them downstairs, one by one, clinging to the lightness you’d clawed back during the day. But the second you stepped outside, that lightness evaporated.

Because Vernon was still there.

Sitting in the exact same spot, hoodie pulled up, expression unreadable in the glow of the streetlights. He stood the second he saw you. You could hear your friends making surprised sounds and murmurs around you.

“You’re joking,” Vivi said flatly.

He didn’t speak. Just looked at you as if he couldn’t see anyone else.

“Should we stay?” Mina asked quietly, her fingers brushing your arm.

You hesitated, then nodded. “No. It’s okay.”

The others weren’t so sure. Jules gave Vernon a sharp look. “You sure you don’t want us to stay?”

“It’s fine,” you said again, firmer this time. “Really.”

With reluctance and a few more side-eyes at Vernon, they said their goodbyes. Vivi mimed her two-finger “watching you” gesture. 

Jules even pointed at Vernon’s feet and said, “Stay,” like he was a dog.

And then, finally, you were alone with him. He didn’t speak right away. Just stared, like he wasn’t sure you’d come out at all.

“I didn’t know if I should wait,” he said eventually. “But I didn’t wanna leave without trying.”

You stepped out, slowly. “Okay. Try.”

The wind blew and the cool air made you hug yourself. It was getting late and the night had gotten colder. You wondered how long he was waiting there. Had he really been sitting there the whole time?

“Can we talk inside?”

“No,” you replied before you could even think about it. “I don’t trust myself to be alone in private with you right now.”

“Right, I understand,” he nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Um, that night, when we fought… I, uh… I shouldn’t have left like I did.”

He paused, eyes softening as he met your gaze. “It’s just, when you said you didn’t want… this—” he motioned at the two of you— “us, dating. It kind of got into my head. I was a little upset because I thought I dragged you into something you didn’t want and that everything that happened was just…”

He paused again, looking away and then chuckling in a self-deprecating way. “Anyway, I don’t wanna make excuses. Point is, I understand now why you were upset. Why you felt like a rebound and what I did… and didn’t do to make things better. I understand the Mina thing. I understand why you thought I didn’t like you enough because I didn’t ask much about you but…”

You raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue.

“But you were wrong about something,” Vernon said, stepping closer, his voice low, not pushing, just stating a truth. “ I know you. We haven’t been together long, but I’ve known enough about you.”

He paused, glancing up like he was searching for the right words. Then, almost awkwardly, he started counting off on his fingers.

“You hate ketchup. Like, viscerally. You always wipe it off your burger before eating it. You set three alarms every morning but never wake up until the fourth, which is somehow always a voice memo of you yelling at yourself to get up.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “You like watching horror movies but always cover your eyes during the scary parts. You don’t like soda but you always steal sips of mine.”

You felt yourself go still. Not because he was saying anything particularly grand, but because it was clear—he’d been paying attention. More than you thought. Maybe more than you let yourself believe.

“You read too fast and finish books in a day, then spend the next three days depressed about it. You dance in your seat when your food’s good. You always fall asleep during car rides unless you’re the one driving. You get quiet when you’re thinking too hard. You ramble when you’re nervous.” He smiled faintly. “Like on the day of your volleyball tryouts. You talked about how avocadoes are a scam.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “They are though. Four bucks for something that goes bad in a day.”

He gave a soft chuckle. “Point is, I notice. I might not ask a million questions about your childhood or your star sign, but I see you. And I like you. A lot.”

He stopped, letting those last words sink in. His eyes were on you, not pleading, but open and vulnerable.

“I’m not gonna promise you anything I’m not sure I can keep. But I know I want you. I know I care about you, and that’s not just me saying it because I’m scared of losing you, even though I am. I just…” he sighed. “I don’t want this to be over before we even tried, baby.”

You didn’t say anything right away. Just watched him, arms crossed, heart thudding in a way you were trying hard to ignore. Because you wanted him—but you weren’t sure if you could trust him yet. Or yourself, for that matter, to stop letting your insecurities eat at you.

But you didn’t tell him any of that. Instead, you turned away, slowly walking to your door.

You unlocked it, paused with your hand on the knob, and glanced back over your shoulder. ���Are you just gonna stand there all night?”

Vernon blinked. “No, I… um, I’ll leave you alone if you want me to.”

You huffed, stepping just inside the doorway. “Come on in,” you said simply, not looking at him. “It’s cold and you’ve been sitting out here like an idiot all night.”

It took him a second, but then you heard his quiet footsteps behind you, following you in.

Inside, you paused in the middle of your apartment, took a slow breath, and turned. Then you threw yourself into his arms. Vernon nearly toppled over, but managed to steady you, arms wrapping around your back, one hand cradling the back of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into his chest, sighing like it physically hurt to get the words out. “I overreacted. Got a little over dramatic. Just… got in over my head.”

Vernon shushed you gently, kissing the side of your head and tugging you closer. “Don’t be sorry. I get it. You can be a little crazy sometimes, and I think I can deal with that.”

You pulled back just enough to smack him lightly in the chest. Vernon just chuckled, throwing his head back before pulling you back into his arms.

“I’m kidding, baby. It’s not your fault,” he said, nose brushing your temple. “I missed you so much. You had no idea.”

You rolled your eyes despite the flutter in your chest. “Liar. It hasn’t even been a full day.”

“You sure about that?” Vernon murmured, pulling back just enough to kiss your forehead. “Felt like five weeks.”

You scoffed. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the girl who cried when I left,” he chuckled, “even though she’s the one who picked a fight with me.”

You tried to pull away again, but he tightened his hold. “Don’t worry about it. I like my women emotional.”

You groaned, letting your forehead fall against his chest. “Shut up or I’ll kick you out for real.”

“Please don’t,” he replied, arms still wrapped tightly around you. “I missed you too much.”

You didn’t respond, just closed your eyes and listened to the steady beat of his heart. For a second, neither of you moved. The room was warm, and so was he. And even if you were still a little mad, and still a little scared, it felt good to be in his arms again.

He lifted your chin up, gaze dropping to your lips, then back up. “Can I kiss you?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” you said, before pressing your lips to his.

He kissed you like he meant it. Like he missed you. Like he was trying to remind you of every reason you’d let him in to begin with. His hands moved up to cradle your face, gentle, a little desperate. Yours were still fisted in his hoodie, keeping him close. Just in case he changed his mind. Just in case you did.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you a little breathless and grinning, he rested his forehead against yours.

You didn’t believe in neat resolutions. Relationships didn’t fix themselves overnight, and a kiss wasn’t a magic bandage for everything that had gone wrong. Maybe nothing would change. Maybe you’d still fight, still misunderstand each other. But for now, your walls were down and his arms were around you.

And that was enough. You weren’t going anywhere. Not unless one of you said it was over.

“I’m still mad at you,” you whispered.

“I’d be worried if you weren’t,” he murmured back, brushing your cheek with his thumb before leaning to kiss you again.

[fin]

[jordiemeow]

MISC BOT DUMP ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

09/03/25

featuring characters from: challengers, west side story, dune, bones and all & call me by your name

yay!! jo misc bot release. realised as i was linking these that i hit 100 followers on c.ai umm what the hell thank you horny people. challengers bots at the top bc i know that's what you sluts want!

next bot release will probably be based on lady gaga's new album mayhem. feel free to send requests for characters with song pairings (any fandom but more likely to consider ones from my pinned message!)

gender neutral unless specified otherwise. have fun. personal favourite was lee tbh.

enjoy ! <3

CHALLENGERS

PLATONIC? YEAH RIGHT

stanford art x patrick x best friend!user

You've all fantasised about this. Patrick is just the only one brave enough to act on it, even if it is as a result of a joint being shared between the three of you on Art's cramped single and a few stolen kisses. None of you have to say it out loud to know the three of you want to share more than Patrick's weed, though.

YES, COACH!

coach!art x protégé!user

He likes it when you call him coach. He shouldn’t, but it does something to him. He won’t admit it. Not to you, or himself. He’d deny it. Say he’s just tired, it’s the humidity, or something. Anything, rather than face the fact that he has the biggest little coaching kink over you. You’ve probably not even realised it, but your defiant little glare melting away to a compliant yes, coach goes straight south for him every time.

NASTY DOG

stanford era cheater!patrick x partner!user

Patrick knows he's in trouble, but does he really care? It's not that he doesn’t love you. He does, or he thinks he does. But he simply isn’t built for commitment. It's just too limiting, or so he claimed. And the groupies on tour are just so eager to please him. The sight of you throwing a ball in Art's pathetic attempt at a game piques his interest at the party he’s dragged you both along to, but when a hot girl in a low-cut top offers him body shots, what is he supposed to do? Say no? That's not in his nature. Because first and foremost, Patrick Zweig is a motherfucking dog.

FUTILE DEVICES

stanford era!art x best friend!user

To everyone else, you’re an asshole. Snarky and bitchy. You’d insult someone’s dead parent if they were being rude enough. Aggressive and temperamental. And yet there’s something about you that makes you completely irresistible to Art. He’s been in awe of you since he was a little shithead at twelve years old, and now he’s nineteen and he’s still thinking about you, watching your every move, hanging onto every word that comes out of your mouth… And, yeah, he’s maybe in love with you. Whatever.

FRESH YOUNG TALENT

coach!tashi x protégé!user

You could be perfect. An extension of Tashi, the manifestation of her own lost talent the day she injured her knee. Who needs her pathetic excuse of a husband when she has you? With that low drawl in your ear that's like a lullaby, but you know she's more of a devil than a comforting presence. It's almost enough to make you forget the fact that she's technically untouchable—her wedding ring a glaring reminder of the fact she's not yours. And yet you're hers. Her fresh young talent to carve into something beautiful.

SHARING IS CARING

stanford tashi x patrick x art x user

Patrick has always been convinced that he's the leader amongst you all. But, deep down, you all know you're eating out of the palm of Tashi's perfectly manicured hand. Her little white boys and you, her best friend. When she suggests to bring back your old tradition of sharing partners, how are you supposed to say no to that?

CARD DECLINED

2019!patrick x tinder date!user

Patrick Zweig is broke. Like living out of his car and using Tinder to couch (bed) surf kind of broke. The fact most of his pictures were his bulge should have rang alarm bells, but hey, you're on the app for the same thing. But he's in need of a warm meal, so he hits you with the gentleman card. Let me take you out for drinks first. Except his card conveniently declines, and instead of getting dicked down, you're left to pay the bill... great. That's what you get for using dating apps.

THE OTHER WOMAN

2019!tashi x sugar baby!reader (wlw)

Tashi must be getting really fond of you, because she's been indulging in purchases a lot more recently. It's not like you needed that $200 perfume, or the Valentino bag that sits in your closet, or the Hermes belt that you're too shy to wear. But she wanted you to have them. There was a rush there, a thrill of power. A reminder that she could have you with a single crook of her finger. And you always oblige, so sweet and eager to please, because at the end of the day... you're hers.

WEST SIDE STORY

LANDLINE

riff x uptown girl!user (m4f)

Riff ain't exactly been the best influence on you, getting you to sneak out and meet him in back alleys to sneak a couple cigarettes or share a few swigs of alcohol. Ain't ever taken you farther than that, though. Defiling you is tempting, but so is talking down the phone for hours into the night. He can just picture you giggling, twirling your phonecord around your finger and kicking your legs as you talk. Maybe you're sitting on a chair, or maybe in your bed. Hell, either way he knows you're in something cute and lacy to wear to bed, and he's definitely a fan of that. His pretty lil’ girly girl.

PRETTY LIL' SHARK

riff x anita’s sister!user (m4f)

You’re such a feisty lil’ spitfire that Riff can’t help but be drawn to you. If his boys knew he spent so much time thinking about the way you called him a gringo and spat your gum at him the other day, he’d never hear the end of it. Bernardo’s fuckin’ girlfriend’s sister, no less. But boy are you entertaining, ‘n’ it’s worth the risk just to ambush you on your weekly trip to Doc’s.

BONES AND ALL

APEX PREDATOR

lee x eater friend!user

Sometimes, Lee thinks God must have sent you to him. Not that he’s said a prayer in the last few years before you came into the picture. Sent him an angel, because He knew he was too much of a sinner. A deadly angel, though, given the fact you’ve just fed from an unlucky motel employee. No hint of cologne or perfume in the air as he consoles you and wipes the blood from your chin, just the natural, earthy scent of your shared sin. Perhaps demon is a more apt comparison.

CALL ME BY YOUR NAME

LOATHING

elio x family friend!user

Elio isn't sure of the reason for his own irritability. Whether it's your presence or the heat or the fact that everything with Oliver feels like it's spinning out of control. He just knows that he's in a bad mood, and you happen to be there. So, unfortunately for you, picking fruit with a sullen boy is your fate for the afternoon. If he has to deal with your bright smile and cheerful attitude for too long, though, he might just go insane.

LA PISCINA

elio x childhood friend!user

Being Elio Perlman’s dedicated bosom friend is not for the weak, for several reasons. One, he’s an annoying little shit. Two, he’s the world’s biggest hypocrite. Three, he’s in love with an American man six years his senior. Age gap aside, your ire regarding that particular problem stems from the fact that maybe you’re in love with your best friend. Oh, how you wish the summer would just end and things could go back to just being you and Elio. No stupid fucking Oliver.

DUNE

FOREIGN BOY

arrakis!paul x fremen teacher!user

You’re quite the thorn in Paul’s side. A decent teacher in theory, but so full of criticism that sometimes he just wants to smack you up the back of the head. A particularly repetitive session has both of you in a mood today; him wanting to prove himself to you, you wanting him to fail. But, by all the blessings of Shai-Hulud, sandwalking would not be the hill this Offworlder dies on.

PIPE DREAMS

caladan!paul x childhood friend!user

You'd always felt comfortable being yourself around Paul, even if he is to become the next Duke. It's always been like that, a sort of unspoken rule. For you, he was never Paul Atriedes, the son of The Duke. He was just Paul, your favourite person, the boy who was always better than you at sparring, but would never hold it against you. Your best friend, despite the expectations and responsibilities that always seemed to sit heavy on his shoulders. He can forget about that when he’s with you.

[spiderwcd]

sense | c.b.

pairing: colby brock x medium ! f ! reader

summary: colby meets a new medium for their video, but he didn't expect to have a crush on her 

w.c.: 5.4k

warning(s): talk about paranormal, creepy activity, a lil steamy moment

a/n:  like sleep tight, the hauntings are made up and the story line does not exist. i do want to add that, i suck at writing a lot of like investigative stories so please don’t judge me. also I had requests for this type of story, ironically I was already working on it so hope you guys enjoy it

images from pinterest !

"Is anyone gonna join us?" Colby asked, packing his camera into his bag. 

"Actually, yeah, some girl that Celina referred from the home town," Sam replied. "She's supposed to be a medium." He added. 

The two guys finally we're going to investigate the infamous orphanage that is supposedly haunted by the spirits of the children that died. They had finally done the research and were ready to go investigate. 

"Cool, what's this girl's name?" Colby inquired. 

"Uhm, I think it's y/n?" Sam stopped to think, pulling out his phone. "Yeah, I texted her this morning letting her know we're going to catch a flight there, she's our ride." Sam chuckled, putting away his phone into his pocket. 

Colby let the name sit in his brain for a little, hoping to remember it later. It wasn't long before they were on their flight there. It was quite a while, editing and looking over their notes. 

When they landed, Sam kept searching for her face and Colby totally lost who they were supposed to look for. Sam's eyes soon lit up, recognizing her in the crowd. He waved at her, bringing her attention towards them. 

Colby finally noticed who they looked for, catching a glimpse of her. He felt his body heat up, flustered at her beauty. She was gorgeous, her hair running down her shoulders and her smile radiating through the crowds of people passing, he was surprised he didn't notice her earlier. She'd look like your typical medium, having a great style in all black, wearing an oversized band shirt, black sleeves underneath that hung over her jeans. 

"Hey guys!" Y/n greeted them, hugging Sam then moving over to Colby.

Colby felt his heart flutter and couldn't help but take her scent in, practically intoxicating. As she pulled away from her embrace, Colby couldn't help but feel disappointed. She offered them a smile and a hand with their luggage, but they declined the help. 

They moved their things into her car, ready for the trip over to their hotel. On the way there, she played music that practically matched Colby's taste. He felt as if he found his soulmate then and there. 

Sam kept asking her about herself and getting to know her. 

"So tell me, what type of medium are you?" Sam wondered. "If you don't mind me asking, of course." 

"It's okay, I like answering these, well, it's weird but I sorta have different types of abilities," Y/n began, steering the wheel. "I can let spirits communicate through me, so I'll channel them into my consciousness, letting them talk." She answered. 

"Other abilities? like what?" Colby asked, curious as he leaned forward in his seat.

"Well, I'm sure you have other mediums with my ability to see beyond what you guys can see," Y/n chuckled, amused at their curiosity. "I sort of have a heightened sense and I can see actual spirits walking around and hear whispers." 

"You know, I think you're the only medium we met who can just surrender themselves to let spirits talk through them." Sam chuckled. 

"Oh well I don't do it often, only with spirits I trust." Y/n added. 

As she finished her sentence, they had finally made their way to their hotel. It didn't take long before the three of them were inside the room, talking about random stuff. Colby couldn't help but watch her as she laughed and moved around the room. 

"What's so interesting about Nebraska?" Sam joked, starting a conversation. 

"If i'm being honest," Y/n sighed. "Nothing." She laughed. 

"Oh, that's great," Sam laughed back. "I don't want to get into the video already, but tell me, why is Nebraska so significant with orphanages?" He continued, pulling out his camera and beginning to record. 

"Well, do you guys know about the Orphan Train Movement?" She asked, leaning back on the bed she sat on. 

"No, never really heard of it." Colby replied, shaking his head. 

"Well, Nebraska is like the center of all the railways, so in the 1850's all the way until the 1920's, people would send orphans on the train from like the crowded East Coast cities into the midwest, mostly Nebraska," Y/n explained. "So, we used to have a lot of orphanages just like Haven Orphanage." She continued. 

"Really? that's really interesting." Sam commented, facing the camera towards her. 

"Yeah, again I don't really have much knowledge about it but that's what I know," Y/n corrected. "Hopefully the guide will explain it better." 

Y/n decided it's best if she lets them settle in, letting her also collect herself and prepare for their investigation. she said her goodbyes before leaving. She had to admit, she had a crush on Colby for a while. But she didn't want to feed her delusions and say he felt the same, telling herself he was probably being friendly. 

When she had left, Sam turned over to colby. 

"You so have a crush on her." Sam laughed. 

Colby turned red, covering his face, "Shut up." He muttered. 

"Hey, I just never seen you so quiet around a girl," Sam admitted. "Come on, you gonna make a move?" Sam enticed him.

Colby sighed for a second, looking at his best friend, "I-i don't know, she's only being nice, I don't want to embarrass myself and get rejected." 

"Really? Colby Brock getting rejected? Haven't seen that happen yet." Sam teased. 

Colby rolled his eyes, playfully. "Whatever, let’s just focus on this investigation for now." he averted the subject. 

Sam just gave him a look, as if it wasn't over just yet. He agreed to his friend's idea, pulling out his notes and taking more notes. 

Six o'clock came a lot earlier than they hoped, making their way to the orphanage. As they pulled into the building, they noticed y/n already waiting out front for them. Colby felt his heart beat a bit faster seeing her there. He examined her outfit and her demeanor, admiring her. 

They began making their way up towards the front doors, seeing the guide also there. It didn't take long for y/n to turn around and notice them, putting a smile on her face and her heart to melt a bit seeing colby. 

"What's up guys?" Y/n offered them a smile. "I was just talking to Morgan here about the building." She pointed towards the other woman. 

They greeted their guide, offering a warm greeting. They all introduced themselves, joking and laughing a bit. 

"Well, are you guys ready for the tour?" Morgan asked them. 

"Yeah, for sure lead the way." Sam nodded, following her. 

"Well this building was built in 1863, it was originally an orphanage named Haven Orphanage for Moved or Unwanted children," Morgan started, pointing towards the building. "It's said to be haunted, due to cruel conditions like overcrowding and shortage of supplies. The government didn't really want to pay for any orphanages, unfortunately causing it to be absolute hell for the children and staff." She continued, clasping her hands together. 

"Yeah, off the bat I already feel like some negative energy," Y/n motioned with her hands towards the building. "Like I feel a negative spirit lurking." 

"Yeah, so that you're feeling is Ruby," Morgan clarified. "She was one of the staff, she was very cruel to the children and it's rumored she sold her soul to the devil for the place to keep standing, but unfortunately she passed away from unknown causes." She continued. 

Everyone looked around, widened eyes painted on their faces. 

"Wow, okay so more demons." Sam chuckled.

"Well, it's not all bad energy," Morgan stopped him. "There's a lot of children spirits in here, they're rather playful and kind. But they do like to mess with you so don't get too scared from it." She added. 

"Wait, why am I kinda excited," y/n replied, covering her smile. "I never talked to children's spirits before." She admitted. 

"Well, it'll be a new experience for everyone then." Morgan chuckled, "Shall we start the tour then?" She suggested. 

The group agreed, making their way into the building. Immediately everyone looked around the place, noticing the different decor and admiring the ceilings. 

"So, as you can see, the building has a lot of character to it," Morgan pointed out. "But don't be fooled, there are a lot of dark corners of this building." 

Aas they went deeper into the hallway, they looked around seeing the admission office and different classrooms. 

"This was the classrooms, they would attend school here but the staff wasn't very kind," Morgan began. "A lot of the staff would use punishments that were unorthodox, like paddling which was spanking with a wooden paddle." She added. 

Colby looked over to Sam, "Maybe I should be punished." He whispered, causing y/n and Sam to laugh a bit. 

They soon wandered up the stairs, examining the stained glass on their way up. Y/n smiled as her eyes traveled around the beautiful structure, while Colby couldn’t help but watch her move and how beautiful she was. 

When they made their way up, they noticed the many bedrooms with bunk beds. As y/n began following the guide, she heard a loud metallic thump in one of the rooms. She jumped a bit, surprised by the sound. Unexpectedly, she jumped back into Colby's arms, causing her to become embarrassed. 

Colby's hands were wrapped around her for a moment before y/n, releasing her when she cleared her throat and looked down flustered. “Sorry, that just scared the shit out of me.” She muttered, placing a hand on her chest. 

“That's probably Billy,” Morgan mentioned, pointing towards one of the darkened rooms. “He likes to mess with tourists, he’s a prankster but he’s harmless.” She added. 

Y/n couldn't help but notice a small figure move out of her eyeline, causing her to swing her head towards the room. The guys followed her swift movements, examining the dark room. 

"Did you see something?" Colby asked her, looking back at her. 

Y/n tried focusing her eyes into the darkness, but nothing came up, "Could've sworn I saw something..." She whispered. 

As Sam pointed the camera towards the darkness, he zoomed into the room. "Well we definitely have to come back here for something," he commented. 

As they continued making their way further into the building, Colby couldn't keep his eyes off her. She was beautiful at every angle, he wanted to protect her from anything and everything. Y/n noticed his gaze, being a medium and all, and turned to him. Colby quickly averted his gaze off her, flustered yet again and awkwardly kept walking. 

Y/n blushes as well, trying to rationalize. She cleared her throat as she began making her way towards one of the bedrooms. 

"This was one of the girls' rooms," Morgan explained, pointing towards the different bedsheets of muted pinks and purples. "This doesn't have much activity besides a little girl who likes to sing from time to time, she's a rather sweet ghost." 

"Sam, this one should be your favorite," Colby teases, mentioning the Sallie house. 

Sam laughs, facing his friend, "I think I'm okay without another attachment." 

They all exchanged laughs as they averted their attention towards the sudden faint sounds of footsteps, followed by the rocking chair in the corner slowly creaking as it rocked back and forth. 

They went silent, looking at each other and back at the scene. But the chair just ceases its movements. 

"Okay, what the actual fuck." Colby whispered, covering his mouth in shock. 

Y/n felt a cold touch travel down her arm, as if someone swiped her arm. She looked around, trying to find the source. She felt a faint whisper in her ear, a name. 

"That was the little girl, her name is Beth if you would like to talk to her." Morgan suggested.

Y/n's jaw flew down, realizing what the name was. "You're kidding," she gasped. "I literally heard like a whisper or something with that name." She announced, crossing her arms as she felt the cold begin to engulf her. 

Sam and Colby turned to her, eyes widened in surprise. 

"Oh my god, maybe Beth wants to talk or something?" Sam considered, pointing the camera towards her direction. 

Y/n nodding, agreeing. She had experiences like this, but never this strong. She felt like her body was vibrating and buzzing with the constant movements and voices. 

"Are you okay?" Colby asked, furrowing his brows as he noticed her body shake. 

Y/n nodded slightly, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. "Yeah just there's so much happening right now, I keep hearing different types of voices and seeing figures around the corner of my eye." She mentioned. 

Colby's eyes washed over with concern, having the need to protect her. "Did you want to take a break or anything?" He asked her, worry coated in his voice. 

Y/n smiled at his empathy, "I'll be okay, just my body is buzzing a bit, but thank you." She breathed out, flustered at his concern. 

Before they knew it, they had made their way to the darkest part of the building. The basement was where supposedly a lot of the children died from cruel punishments, creating a lot of angry spirits. 

"Okay, so before we make our way around," Morgan began, turning back to the group of people. "There is a lot of negative energy here, they will try to hurt you. People always leave here with scratches and even have been pushed off the stairs going to the basement." She warned. 

The group felt tense, nervous about what comes next. When they entered the dimly lit room, they could barely navigate through the dark basement as they stayed close to each other. 

Y/n heard something fall, causing her to jump forward and instinctively grab the person's hand. That person being Colby. She blushed as she realized who it was, clearing her throat and mumbling an apology. 

"It's okay," Colby assured, smiling but she couldn't see it. "You can hold my hand if you want, I'm sorta shitting bricks right now too." He chuckled, stretching out his hand to her. 

She felt her heart skip a beat, hesitantly reaching for his hand. As she grabbed onto his hand, she felt her body rush with electricity. Y/n was glad that the room was too dark to see her flustered face. 

"Alright guys," Morgan sighed, stopping under a lightbulb. "This was where most of the children actually died." She mentioned. 

Y/n felt a wave of sadness coarse through her body, her lip beginning to quiver. Colby looked over to her, seeing the glisten of her tears. 

"Hey, you okay?" He asked her, his brows furrowed with worry. 

"Y-Yeah, I just felt this wave of sadness," she sniffled in response. "like I feel them telling me something so horrible happened to them." She added. 

Colby felt sad to see her cry, wanting to wipe her tears away. Instead he gripped onto her hand firmly, reassuring her. 

Morgan nodded at her comment, "It was actually gruesome," she began. "The kids would be punished here, starved, even beaten. A lot of that resulted in death." 

Everyone in the group frowned, so much remorse for the poor children's lives that were lost. 

"But," Morgan cut in. "Like I mentioned before, there is an adult spirit who haunts here, Ruby. It's rumored she was murdered down here or the other theory was she was pushed out of one of the windows." 

They thought for a moment, feeling a cold chill rush through them causing them to shiver for a bit. 

"Did you guys feel that?" Sam asked, pointing the camera towards them, ignoring their grasp on each other. 

The two nodded, their eyes darting throughout the basement. 

"Man, I don't like the vibe I'm getting here." Y/n whispered, trying to inch closer to Colby. 

Colby agreed, lacing his fingers through hers as he pulled her closer to his body. He felt so protective of her, wanting her to be safe. 

"Yeah, we don't want to be down here for too long," Morgan began making her way back to the exit. "People get seriously hurt here." She added, sternly. 

Y/n's eyes widened, looking up at Colby. He looked back once he noticed her glance and smiled as he guided her towards the exit. 

Once they exited the creepy basement, y/n let go as she thought Colby wouldn't want Sam to see their hold, causing Colby to become disappointed. 

Morgan led the group towards the front of the building, Y/n walking alongside with her as Sam and Colby hung behind them. 

"Dude, I saw you guys down there," Sam smirked, grabbing Colby's attention. "You know, holding hands," He teased. 

Colby rolled his eyes as he flustered at his best friend's teasing, "So what?" He murmured. 

"Admit it, you like her, don't you?" Sam asked, wiggling his brows slightly. 

This only caused Colby to get more embarrassed, looking away from his best friend. 

Sam only chuckled, reaching the doors to the building as they parted ways with Morgan. They thanked her, offering her farewells, and advice. 

As soon as Morgan left, the group looked at each other. Y/n tried to avoid her gaze on Colby, not wanting to seem desperate for his attention. 

"Alright, I think we should use the spirit box," Sam began, rummaging through his bag. "And I have some toys that might interest the kids." Sam added as he pulled out various children's toys and the infamous Alice box. 

"Okay, sounds good." Colby agreed, nodding with the plan. 

Y/n bit her lip, trying to figure out something she heard in the building. She figured it was nothing, brushing it off slightly. They began making their way back towards the doors they just exited, seeing the dark hallways stretch down. 

Y/n froze for a moment, her eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. Soon, she started making her way towards the two who had already made it halfway down the hallway as they discussed plans. 

She tried to catch up to them, but stopped when she saw it. She stopped at the intersection of hallways, staring down the much larger hallway. 

Colby looked behind him, seeing y/n stuck in a trance like state. He made his way back to her, nudging her to see what's wrong. 

"Y-You guys don't see it don't you?" She whispered, her eyes glued on the other side of the barren hallway. 

Colby and Sam looked over to where she was staring, unable to locate the problem. 

"No, Y/n we only see the hallway." Colby shook his head, worry creeping into his skin. 

As Sam tried to begin his sentence, Y/n quickly cut him off. 

"Holy fuck, that thing just moved." Y/n whispered, her hands shaking a bit. 

"What? What did you see?" Sam asked, looking around the hallway. 

Y/n turned to the two, her eyes widened slightly. 

"Okay, as I was about to make my way towards you guys," y/n explained. "I stopped because I heard this whisper, almost telling me to come over here kinda. So I look down the hallway and I see this fucking thing, it was like tall and black and clothed with some weird black clothes, it kept staring at me even when you guys came over. Then it grinned and walked away." She elaborated, her voice beginning to shake as she covered her mouth a bit with her shaking hand. 

Sam and Colby look at each other for a moment, worried. 

"Yeah, okay so already a lot of shit is happening." Sam sighed, feeling a pressure build up in his chest. 

Colby nodded, licking his lips as he began to speak, "let's just get this investigation over with so we can leave," he suggested. "Are you okay to keep going?" He asked Y/n, his brows furrowed. 

Y/n nodded her head, exhaling a deep breath out. "Yeah, just that freaked me out but i'm sure it's nothing." She convinced herself. 

With that, the three made their way to one of the bedrooms, trying to contact one of the nicer spirits. 

"Okay guys, so we have the new Alice box," Sam pointed the camera to the machine. "It's like a spirit box, reading through channels and frequencies so the spirits talk through it." He explained. 

Y/n looked around the room a bit, examining the surroundings well. Colby couldn't help but stare at her face, watching as her eyes darted around. Y/n looked over to Colby's glance and Colby smiled a bit, causing her to blush yet again. She's lost track of how many times she caught him doing things that she keeps reading into. Clearly he's being friendly, but really how friendly?

"Okay let's ask some questions for the little girls that stay in this room." Sam began, clasping his hands after he turned on the small device.

"...hello?..." 

A female voice rang throughout the room, the echo bouncing off the walls. Y/n furrowed her brows, pulling out her notebook as she began to scribble words that came up in her mind. 

She stopped at the word, she looked down and thought of it for a moment. She noticed something, a pair of eyes on her notebook. But it wasn't a spirit, just colby snooping. She smiled a bit, turning her notebook over to Colby. 

He looked at her then lined the pieces of paper with the random ink on letters and drawings. As he read the words, suddenly the Alice box answered. 

"...chair..."

Colby's jaw hung open, looking over to Sam and the paper. Y/n's actions mimicking his. 

"Dude," y/n gasped, displaying her notebook to Sam and the camera. "I wrote that not even 2 minutes earlier, Colby saw it too." She explained. 

Sam’s mouth hung open a bit, shocked. "No fucking way." 

But before they could say anything else, the Alice box spoke again. 

"...girl..." 

"I mean, this is the girl's room." Y/n explained. The two guys nodded, still confused what the spirits are trying to say. 

"...man... hallway..." 

Y/n froze, goosebumps running down her body. "Oh my god, it's talking about that thing I saw." She whispered. 

"Do you know the thing that Y/n saw in that hallway?" Colby asked into the open air. 

The Alice box stayed silent for a moment, occasionally spewing random words that didn't make sense. But as they were about to turn it off, it spoke. 

"... can't say..." 

"Can't say? Why can't you say anything?" Y/n asked yet again, scribbling into her notebook. 

"...won't..." "...let us..." 

"He maybe has a hold on them," Sam suggested, rubbing his chin slightly. "It's possible it's a demon." He added. 

"...evil..." 

They looked at each other and didn't say anything for a moment, Y/n turning her notebook over to reveal the word written on the paper. evil. 

Then the rem pod near the door started going off, a chill running down Y/n's back as the room became cold.

"Okay, this is actually so freaky," Sam chuckled a bit, pointing the camera towards the door. "The rem pod went off after Y/n wrote evil AND the Alice box said evil." 

Y/n sat up, ears perking up a bit as she listened carefully to the air. "Okay, I don't know if it's just me, but the room went completely freezing, and I feel something negative in here." She blurted out. 

"Yeah, I feel the cold," Sam agreed. "Could it be that thing you saw earlier?" He inquired. 

Y/n shook her head, "No, that was like paralyzing fear," She noted. "This one.. it's just mad." She whispered out. 

Concern painted on Colby's expression, clearly reading her body language as uncomfortable. 

"Hey, maybe let's end it in this room," Colby proposed. "A lot more places to investigate." 

Sam nodded, reaching for the equipment as he turned it off. Y/n sat up, but quickly recoiled forward. Colby noticed it, confused. 

"You okay?" he asked, helping her stabilize herself. 

Y/n looked around as Colby held onto her arm. "Y-Yeah, just something pushed me," She answered. "like I was standing up, and I felt a shove on my upper back." 

The group quickly exited the room, making their way down to the basement. They were going to explore more of the place, but seeing how y/n kept being targeted clearly for her abilities they weren't comfortable making her go through it. 

The feeling of uneasiness returned, entering the frigid basement. The dim light still remained on, barely illuminating the space around them. 

"Alright guys, we're going to the basement," Sam mentioned into the camera, showing the dark room. "We're going to do the Estes method down here, Colby is going to do it today." he spun the camera towards Colby's direction, zooming into his face. 

"Wow, face of excitement right there." Y/n joked, causing Colby to break his monotone expression to light up with laughter. 

She felt her heart jump, hearing his laughter brightening her spirit up. She could listen to it all day if she could. Colby soon sat on the barren concrete floor, Y/n handing him the blindfold followed with the headphones. His hands brushing up against her, followed by a smirk on his face. 

She cleared her throat, backing away from him. 

"Alright Colby, can you hear us?" Sam asked, testing out the volume. Colby doesn't say anything, listening to the random static coming through the headphones. 

"Okay, whoever dwells in this basement, are you the supposed member of staff that passed away?" Sam questioned, awaiting Colby's answer. 

"Perhaps." Colby replied. 

"So it's a bit sassy." Y/n chuckled a bit followed by Sam's chuckles. 

"Well, is it true you did rituals to keep this place running?" Sam added. 

Colby stayed silent for a moment, trying to listen carefully to the voices ringing through. 

"Force." Colby blurted. "protect," he continued. 

They looked at each other, trying to decipher what was spoken. 

"What did you do to protect this building?" Y/n asked, furrowing her brows. 

"Colby." Colby said. "Crush." 

Sam looked over to y/n and smirked a bit, "I think it's speaking for you." 

Y/n smacked Sam playfully, a blush covering her face. 

"Kissing," Colby furrowed his brow under his mask. "Tree." 

Sam bursted into laughter, nearly dropping to the floor. Y/n covered her face with her hands, embarrassed. Colby, still oblivious to what's happening, is still spewing out words. Sam tapped him, alerting him to pull out of his trance. 

Colby removed his blindfold, followed by the headphones. He noticed Sam's laughter and Y/n's embarrassed face behind her hands. 

"What? What happened?" Colby asked, curious why Sam was practically rolling on the floor. 

Sam calmed down, wiping the tears out of his eyes. “It said kiss and then tree,” Sam coughed a bit. “It was teasing you.” He pointed towards Colby. 

Colby's face became warm, blushing until his face was red, “Yeah real funny, Sam.” Colby muttered with a sigh. 

Y/n cleared her throat, cheeks still flaming hot. "Well, let's just continue what we came here for." Y/n grumbled, her arms folded on her chest. 

Sam wiped his eyes, cooling down from his laughter. "Wow, that was too good."

Sam began making his way towards the stairs, leaving Y/n and Colby behind his trail.

"Sorry about him." Colby let out with a sigh, rubbing his neck. 

Y/n smiled up at him slightly, "I-Its okay, I know he's just teasing." She blushed. 

Colby simply nodded, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. It wasn't too long before they had explored the whole place, investigating where they could. But then the time to sleep in the actual building came, which y/n began overthinking about. She knew she agreed to sleep alone, but she was too scared after her encounter with that thing in the hallway. 

"Alright guys, it's time for us to split up and sleep in separate rooms," Sam urged. "We figured with the whole Y/n seeing the spirit in the hallway, we're going to sleep in rooms next to each other just to ensure safety." Sam explained. 

Y/n fiddled with her fingers slightly, anxiety beginning to heighten. She bit her lip as they began setting up camp in their rooms. She grabbed her sleeping bag, making their way towards one of the girl's rooms. her heart began beating against her chest as she sat on top of her sleeping bag, listening to every crack and noise around her. 

She rubbed her face, trying to distract herself from her thoughts. But then she heard a faint knocking on the window directly behind her. She just stared at the moonlight that illuminated through the glass in front of her. She quickly sat up, quickly walking towards the closed door. As she opened the door, Colby's chest pressed up against hers. She yelped as she got freighted by the unexpected visit. 

Y/n pressed her hand onto her chest, trying to calm herself down. "Holy shit Colby, you scared the fuck out of me!" She lightly slapped his chest. 

Colby chuckled a bit, trying to lighten up the mood, "Sorry, I couldn't sleep, plus I knew this was your first time staying alone in a haunted place so I wanted to keep you some company." He admitted. 

Y/n felt her heart softly flutter, touched by his gesture, "Yeah, I sorta kept hearing things, I was gonna go to you." She confessed. 

Colby smiled, glad she found comfort in his presence, "Mind if I sleep in the same room as you then?" He requested. 

"Not at all," Y/n quickly replied, walking back to her sleeping bag onto the floor. Colby followed, his pillow and sleeping bag in his hands. "I wonder if Sam is shitting himself alone." She chuckled as she hugged her knees close to her chest. 

Colby sat next to her as he laid out his temporary bed, chuckling at the comment, "He'll be fine," He waved off, "After he laughed at us,he can sleep by himself." 

Y/n laughed a bit, looking down towards the floor. Colby couldn't help but stare at her, admiring her features in the moonlight. She noticed his gaze, moving her attention back towards him. 

"W-What?" She asked him, confused. 

"Nothing," Colby shrugged. "You're just really beautiful." He whispered. 

She flustered as she looked away as her cheeks painted with a deep color, "Oh, stop it." She muttered, playing with her fingernails. 

Colby's fingers landed on her jaw, moving her to face back towards him. She looked up into his eyes, seeming to get pulled closer towards him. 

"Well, it's true," He added, but couldn't help but lean towards her lips as his eyes kept glancing to her eyes and back to her lips. "I couldn't stop staring at you all day," he revealed. 

She felt her body heat up, unknowingly pressing closer to him. "Well, maybe I knew," She replied, feeling his hand on top of hers. "Maybe I was staring too." 

With that, Colby's lips landed on her. She gladly accepted as her lips pieced together perfectly. Colby's hand laced with hers, like previously that night. He lightly held her face, his thumb rubbing her cheek.

But soon, Colby pulled away, leaving them panting as they rested each other's forehead on one another. Y/n couldn't help but smile and chuckle a bit, causing Colby to wonder. 

"What?" He wondered. 

"Nothing," She added, rubbing her thumb on his hand. "Just, there were at least three little girls in here giggling." She confessed. 

Colby let out a laugh, pulling away as he looked around the room, "Well, you guys should give us some space." He announced into the room. 

The next morning, the sun began to shine through their window. The rays of light hitting their eyes, causing their eyes to flutter open. Y/n was the first one to notice him, seeing his wide smile on his face. Sam pointed the camera at the two, giggling as he noticed her to wake up. 

Y/n looked over next to her, noticing the boy clung onto her as he laid onto her chest. She threw her pillow towards Sam, causing him to laugh loudly which woke up Colby. Colby rubbed his eyes, adjusting his vision to the bright room. 

"What the-." Colby grumbled, looking up towards y/n's tired face. 

"Dude, how long have you guys been cuddling?" Sam exclaimed, putting away the camera. 

"Shut up sam." Colby muttered, his head landing onto his pillow. y/n sat up, covering her face. 

"Sam, it's too early for this, can you please leave us alone." Y/n groaned.

"Fine, fine I'll let you love birds be." Sam teased, wiggling his brows a bit before he shut the door behind him as he left. 

Y/n looked over to Colby who was laying on his side. She smiled a bit, still exhausted. He returned the smile, still amazed by her beauty. 

"Does this mean you'd go out with me? or do you already know that I was gonna ask you out?" He finally asked. 

Y/n chuckled dryly, "Colby, I’m a medium, not psychic," She rolled her eyes playfully. "But yes, I will go out with you."

[kaiyunsim]

where or when —

pairing : best friend!leehan x m!reader

summary : seeing your instagram stories with an unfamilliar @ sparks something in leehan, and when he comes to you for a trip, you notice a difference in his attitude…

warnings : fluff, angst if you squint, HIGH amounts of jealousy, reader tends to look over the signs, highschool best friends, college au, lowkey best friend zoned, gyuvin from zb1 as the reader’s friend,

a/n : still trying to do requests 😓 sorry if i’m taking a while… anyways enjoy my leehan fic debut ! (this is me being desperate for bnd + zb1 crumbs) sorry anon if this is kinda half-assed :(

queueing… : where or when - laufey, ever seen - beabadoobe, jupiter - the marías

[requested]

— wc : 4.2k — not proof read —

you and leehan still talk. not as much as you used to, but enough that it doesn’t feel like you’ve lost him. there’s a routine now. late-night texts, random memes sent in the middle of the day, and the occasional call when time zones and schedules allow.

it’s different, though. before, you saw him every day. before, it was easy to read his mood, his quirks, the way he’d space out during lunch and suddenly snap back with a weird, offhand comment that made you laugh. now, everything is filtered through a screen, through choppy audio and pixelated video calls where the wifi lags just enough to make his reactions delayed.

but he’s still leehan. still your best friend. even if things feel just a little off.

college is easier to adjust to than you expect. you make friends, settle into your classes, get comfortable in your dorm. and then there’s gyuvin. you don’t even remember how you became close, just that at some point, you started hanging out between classes, grabbing lunch together, and sharing inside jokes. he’s fun, easy to talk to, and he ends up in your stories a lot. mostly because he’s always doing something dumb or funny that’s worth posting. stupid gyuvin

at first, leehan doesn’t say anything. he still sends his usual dry texts in response to your stories, things like “what’s wrong with you” or “why are you like this.” but after a while, something shifts. you don’t notice it right away.

he starts replying less.

normally, he’d at least send a reaction, a thumbs-up emoji, something. now, there are times he doesn’t respond at all. your messages sit on read for hours before he eventually texts back with something short, like “nice” or “cool.”

then, during your calls, he starts acting weird.

“so then he tripped over his own feet and nearly took out an entire table,” you say, laughing as you recall something gyuvin did earlier. “i swear, i thought the waiter was gonna kill him.”

silence.

“…leehan?”

“huh?” his voice finally comes through, like he wasn’t paying attention.

“did you even hear what i said?”

“yeah,” he mutters. “your new friend’s an idiot.”

you pause. “uh, okay? i mean, yeah, but that’s what makes it funny.”

leehan doesn’t laugh. he doesn’t even comment. he just hums, the sound flat and unimpressed.

you brush it off. maybe he’s just tired. he’s always been a little weird about expressing things, so you don’t think much of it.

but then it keeps happening.

you bring up something about your day, something involving gyuvin, and leehan either changes the subject or barely reacts. if he does respond, it’s usually a sarcastic remark, something dry like, “wow, amazing. truly groundbreaking.”

at first, you assume it’s just him being his usual self. he’s always had a bit of a deadpan sense of humor (or laughing like crazy on a good day). but when you’re telling a different story about one of your other friends and he actually engages, asks questions, laughs at the funny parts. you start to wonder.

the final straw is when you catch him online but he doesn’t respond to your message. normally, you wouldn’t care. people get busy. you get busy. but then, out of curiosity, you check his recent activity.

he liked a post.

not just any post, but one of your old ones. something from years ago.

you frown and text him again.

you : you good?

this time, he responds instantly.

ihan : yeah. why?

you : you just liked a post from forever ago, dude. what are you doing, scrolling through my account like a stalker?

ihan : nah, just bored.

you narrow your eyes at your screen.

you : then why didn’t you reply earlier?

there’s a long pause before his next message comes through.

ihan : forgot.

you don’t buy it, but you let it go.

it’s not until later, when you’re lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, that you start piecing things together. the short replies. the sarcastic comments. the lack of enthusiasm whenever you mention gyuvin.

no. no way.

he wouldn’t be… jealous. right?

—

it starts with the @’s.

at first, leehan doesn’t think much of it. people tag their friends in posts all the time. it’s normal. you used to tag him in stupid memes, too. but now, every time he sees gyuvin’s name pop up next to yours, something in his stomach twists.

he tells himself it’s just curiosity when he taps on your profile one night, scrolling through your recent posts. your feed is more active than his, full of blurry photos, half-finished thoughts, and videos that make no sense without context. he’s used to it. but now, scattered between everything else, are pictures of you and gyuvin.

one of you two sitting outside some café, drinks in hand, captioned "dude just tried to argue that water isn't wet" with gyuvin in the comments defending himself.

another one from a late-night study session: "brain empty, no thoughts, just suffering (ft. gyuvin)".

a video where you’re both in a convenience store, gyuvin holding up a ridiculous snack combo while you wheeze in the background. "he’s not real. he’s a simulation glitch."

and the worst part. gyuvin tagging you back.

the more leehan scrolls, the worse it gets. the @’s, the inside jokes, the casual "bro" captions that feel like they should be directed at him instead.

his finger hovers over the like button. he should press it. it’s not weird to like your best friend’s posts. he does it all the time.

but now, he can’t bring himself to do it.

instead, he backs out and scrolls down, past all the recent stuff, past college, back to when it was just you and him. old pictures from high school. random posts that barely made sense, stupid things only the two of you understood.

on impulse, he taps one and likes it.

then another.

and another.

he doesn’t even realize how deep he’s gone until a notification pops up.

you: why are you liking posts from two years ago.

leehan stares at the message for a long moment before responding.

ihan: just bored.

there’s an awkward pause before you reply.

you: that’s what you said last time.

he doesn’t have a good excuse, so he ignores it.

but when his phone buzzes again, it’s a call.

leehan hesitates, then picks up.

“dude,” you say immediately. “are you okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be?”

“because you’re acting weird,” you point out. “you keep liking my old posts. and you’re being— i don’t know. different.”

“i’m literally just existing.”

“existing like a stalker?”

“shut up.”

you laugh, and for a second, it’s normal again. for a second, it’s like before, when everything was simple.

but then you say, “anyway, guess what gyuvin did today,” and the feeling shatters.

leehan clicks his tongue. “again?”

you pause. “what do you mean ‘again’?”

“you always bring him up.”

“well, yeah, because i hang out with him,” you say, like it’s obvious. “he’s my friend.”

something about the way you say it makes leehan’s chest tighten.

“must be nice,” he mutters.

“what?”

“nothing.”

but you heard him, and now you’re suspicious. “do you not like him or something?”

leehan scoffs. “i don’t even know him.”

“exactly, so why are you acting weird?”

“i’m not.”

you go quiet, and for a second, he thinks he’s in the clear. but then you say, “wait. are you jealous?”

his entire body tenses. “what.”

“oh my god, you are.”

“no, i’m not.”

“yes, you are.”

“shut up.”

but now you’re laughing again, like this is the funniest thing in the world. like you’ve just cracked some impossible mystery.

“bro,” you wheeze. “you don’t have to be jealous of gyuvin.”

“i’m not,” he insists, even though it’s obviously a lie.

“he’s just a friend.”

“good for you.”

“you’re my best friend.”

leehan blinks.

you say it so casually, like it’s a fact, like it’s something that’s never changed and never will. and for the first time since you left for college, since everything started feeling different, something in him eases.

“…yeah?” he mutters.

“yeah, idiot.”

he doesn’t respond right away. instead, he stares at his screen, at the call timer ticking up, at your contact name.

“okay,” he finally says.

and this time, when you start rambling about your day again, about gyuvin and everything else, he doesn’t feel quite as bad.

—

it happens out of nowhere.

one second, you’re texting leehan about some random thing, and the next, he just casually drops:

ihan: i’m visiting this weekend.

you stare at your phone. blink. reread the message just to make sure you didn’t imagine it.

you: what?? you: since when??

he doesn’t answer right away, which is suspicious in itself.

ihan: idk just felt like it.

“just felt like it” your ass.

leehan is many things, quiet, weird, constantly making comments that don’t match his expression, but impulsive is not one of them. if he’s coming, it’s because he planned it. and if he planned it, that means he’s had this in mind for a while.

not that you’re complaining.

you: dude why didn’t you tell me earlier i need to make plans ihan: don’t make it a big deal you: im literally gonna make it a big deal you: also when are u getting here ihan: friday night you: WILD

it’s not wild. it’s just a normal visit. but you’re excited anyway.

and, because you’re a good friend, you start planning out the weekend.

you already know leehan. he doesn’t like doing things that require too much social energy, so you pick chill places. a late-night convenience store run, a cool little bookstore café, maybe a walk around campus just to show him where you spend most of your time, and ESPECIALLY the local aquarium you’ve been talking all about to him.

you also decide, at some point, that he should meet gyuvin.

it makes sense. leehan’s your best friend, gyuvin’s the person you hang out with the most at college, it’s only right that they meet at least once. plus, gyuvin’s easygoing. he gets along with pretty much everyone.

so, you text him.

you: bro my best friend’s coming this weekend gyuvin: WOOO INTRODUCE ME you: thats the plan gyuvin: SICK

simple. easy. no problems.

and then the weekend arrives.

friday night, you meet leehan at the station. he looks the same as ever, hoodie, messy hair, that neutral expression that only people who know him well can tell is actually content. when he spots you, he just lifts a hand in a casual wave, like he didn’t just travel all the way here to see you.

“you look the same,” you say as a greeting.

“so do you,” he replies.

“hot?”

he stares at you blankly. “sure.”

you laugh, throwing an arm around him as you lead him toward your dorm. he doesn’t shake you off.

it’s good. being with him again. different from texting, from calls. it’s comfortable, familiar, like nothing’s changed even though everything technically has.

he settles into your dorm easily, dropping his bag by the bed and immediately taking your desk chair. you let him because you’re nice.

“so,” you say, sitting on your bed. “i have plans.”

he raises a brow. “for what?”

“us.”

he stares. “why.”

“because you’re visiting, dumbass,” you snort. “we’re not just gonna sit in my dorm all weekend.”

leehan shrugs, like he wouldn’t actually mind that. classic.

“anyway,” you continue, “we’re meeting gyuvin tomorrow.”

something shifts in his face. subtle. but you catch it.

“…okay,” he says.

you squint at him. “you sure?”

“why wouldn’t i be?”

“no reason.”

he doesn’t ask any questions. doesn’t say anything else. just spins lazily in your chair while you move on to another topic.

and that should’ve been your first clue.

—

the next day, you meet up with gyuvin at a café near campus.

you introduce them, grinning. “gyuvin, this is leehan. leehan, gyuvin.”

gyuvin, naturally, is all smiles. “dude, finally! i feel like i know you already with how much he talks about you.”

leehan glances at you. “does he.”

you blink. “…yeah?”

“cute,” gyuvin says, nudging you. “your bestie’s here and suddenly you forget how to function.”

“shut up,” you laugh.

you don’t notice the way leehan’s jaw tightens slightly.

the three of you sit down, and that’s when things start getting weird.

leehan’s… off.

he’s never been the most talkative, sure, but right now, he’s especially quiet. he barely speaks, only responding when necessary, and even then, it’s short.

on top of that, he’s weirdly stiff. like, physically. usually, he slouches or leans into you in that casual way that means he’s comfortable. but right now? he’s sitting way too straight, arms crossed like he’s closed off.

and the worst part? he keeps hovering.

like, subtly sticking close to you. if you shift, he shifts. if you lean forward, he leans forward. at one point, you adjust in your seat, and when your knee accidentally bumps his, he doesn’t move away.

which is weird. because normally, he would.

gyuvin, of course, notices.

he doesn’t say anything outright, but you can tell from the way he keeps glancing at leehan with an amused look, like he’s holding back a comment.

meanwhile, you’re just sitting there, completely clueless.

the conversation moves along, mostly between you and gyuvin, since leehan isn’t adding much. eventually, gyuvin brings up something funny that happened in class, and you start laughing. like, genuinely laughing. the kind that makes you lean into the person next to you without thinking.

and that person just so happens to be leehan.

you don’t realize what you’re doing until you feel him go rigid.

like, absolutely frozen.

you blink, looking at him. “uh. you good?”

“fine,” he mutters.

but his expression is unreadable, and his ears are slightly red.

before you can question it, gyuvin smirks. “yo, leehan.”

leehan finally looks at him, raising a brow.

“not much of a talker, huh?”

“…no.”

“respect,” gyuvin nods. “but also, i feel like you secretly have a lot of thoughts right now.”

“do i.”

gyuvin leans forward, grinning. “yeah. like, i dunno, maybe about me?”

there’s a beat of silence.

you’re about to tell gyuvin to stop being weird when leehan, completely deadpan, just says, “who knows.”

you choke on your drink.

gyuvin bursts out laughing. “yo. that’s crazy. insane even.”

leehan just sips his coffee like nothing happened.

you stare at him. then at gyuvin, who looks way too entertained by all of this. then back at leehan.

“…am i missing something?”

gyuvin wipes a fake tear. “nah, man. everything’s good.”

“you guys are weird,” you mutter.

but even as the conversation continues, even as things settle, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s up.

and, if gyuvin’s knowing smirk is anything to go by, he knows exactly what it is.

—

it’s not like you meant to ditch leehan.

it just kind of… happened.

you have a big exam coming up, and gyuvin’s in the same class, so you planned a study session in advance. it’s not like you can just not study. even if leehan is visiting, your grades still matter.

so, when saturday morning rolls around, you hesitate before telling him.

“hey, i gotta study with gyuvin for a bit today,” you say. “big test next week.”

leehan looks up from his phone. “okay.”

you wait for something else, maybe a when will you be back or an i’ll come with you, but he just nods and goes back to scrolling.

you frown. “…you sure?”

“yeah.”

he doesn’t look mad. doesn’t look anything, really. just neutral, as always.

so you assume it’s fine.

and then you leave.

abd the study session goes longer than expected.

it’s not your fault that gyuvin’s just distracting. he keeps making jokes, finding random excuses to stop working, and pulling you into stupid conversations that have nothing to do with the exam.

but, somehow, you actually manage to get stuff done.

by the time you check your phone, it’s already past sunset. you decide to pack up and grab your things while gyuvin fills up his water bottle.

you: bro i lost track of time you: i should go gyuvin: u should but also should u you: what gyuvin: idk it just feels like someone might be mad you: …what are you talking about gyuvin: nothing lol

you squint at your screen, confused.

but you brush it off and start heading back to your dorm.

—

when you get there, leehan is sitting on your bed, hoodie up, scrolling on his phone.

he doesn’t look up when you walk in.

“yo,” you say, dropping your bag. “you eat yet?”

“yeah.”

short. simple. cold.

…weird.

you glance at him. “what’d you get?”

“food.”

okay. even weirder.

you raise a brow. “alright, what’s up with you?”

“nothing.”

“you’re being weird.”

“i’m always weird.”

“…you’re being extra weird.”

no response.

you step closer, tilting your head. “seriously, what’s wrong?”

he exhales, still not looking at you.

then, after a pause, he mutters, “someone seems to be having fun with their new best friend.”

…huh?

you blink. “what?”

he shrugs.

shrugs. like he didn’t just say that.

you stare at him, processing. then, slowly…

he’s jealous. again

“wait,” you say, a grin forming. “are you—”

“no.”

“you don’t even know what i was gonna say.”

“don’t need to.”

you squint. “you’re jealous.”

“no.”

“you so are.”

he finally looks up, well, almost. he still doesn’t meet your eyes, gaze fixed somewhere near your shoulder. but his hoodie strings are wrapped around his fingers, and his ears, his ears, are turning red.

which means one thing.

you got him.

you grin wider. “dude. you are jealous.”

“i’m not.”

“you totally are.”

“no.”

“yes.”

he tugs at his hoodie strings, cheeks slightly puffed. “i don’t care.”

“you so care.”

he presses his lips together, glaring at his phone like it personally offended him.

you sit on the bed next to him, nudging his knee. “c’mon, just admit it.”

silence.

then, after a moment—

“…you were gone all day.”

your smile falters slightly.

because now he really sounds upset.

you sigh. “i told you i had to study.”

“you still left.”

“dude.” you nudge him again. “you could’ve come.”

he finally meets your eyes. “and third-wheel?”

“…wow. so you are jealous.”

he groans, pulling his hoodie strings tighter. “shut up.”

you laugh. “nah, this is funny.”

“it’s not.”

“it is.”

he exhales sharply, slumping a little.

you poke his arm. “leehan.”

he doesn’t answer.

“leehan.”

nothing.

“leehan.”

he finally looks at you, deadpan. “what.”

you grin. “you’re my best friend, dumbass.”

his fingers loosen around his hoodie strings.

“…whatever,” he mumbles.

but his ears are still red.

—

the next night is nice in your dorm room, the kind of night where the world outside feels far away, muffled by the thick walls and the faint hum of your laptop. you’re sitting on your bed, the soft glow of your desk lamp illuminating the space, while leehan lounges in the chair next to your desk, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone.

the room is cozy, just enough space for the two of you to settle into your own little world. it’s been a long day of classes, but it’s nice to have time to just... chill.

you glance over at him, noticing how he seems a little more distant than usual (well this IS the new usual since he’s been nothong but jealous this trip). his usual carefree attitude is hidden behind that familiar quiet, and it doesn’t take long for you to realize that something’s been off ever since this afternoon.

you hadn’t brought gyuvin up after the weird moment earlier, the tension between the two is too thick. but now that you’re alone with him, it feels like the right time to talk.

“hey,” you start, casually flipping through your notebook as you lean back against your pillows. “everything okay?”

he looks up from his phone, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he looks away, a hint of something unreadable flashing across his face.

“yeah, just... tired,” he mutters, his voice low. he doesn’t say anything more, clearly not wanting to elaborate, but you’re not fooled. you’ve known leehan long enough to know when something’s bothering him.

you don’t push it right away, though. instead, you let the silence stretch for a few more moments, letting him process whatever he’s feeling. but when you catch him staring at his phone again, his thumb hovering over the screen as if he’s unsure whether to send something, you can’t help but ask.

“what’s that?”

leehan freezes for just a second before he shoves his phone into his pocket.

“nothing,” he says quickly, looking at you with a forced smile. “just... uh, texting gyuvin. nothing important.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “texting gyuvin, huh? since when are you two texting each other so much?”

his face flushes just slightly, and you can’t help but notice the way he shifts uncomfortably in the chair.

“we’re just... trying to be friends,” he says, clearly making an effort to sound casual, but his tone gives away more than he means to. you catch a glimpse of the jealousy that lingers just beneath the surface.

you tilt your head, trying to make sense of it all. you’ve never seen leehan act like this before. not with anyone else, at least. you know he’s been distant, but this... this is different. there’s something more to it, something he’s not saying.

he has to be lying. but about what?

before you can ask any more questions, his phone buzzes in his pocket. he pulls it out quickly, his eyes scanning the screen as he reads the message.

you lean forward slightly, curious to see who it is. he doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just doesn’t care anymore, because he leaves the screen facing you for a moment before he types something back.

you read the name on the message: gyuvin

he’s telling the truth

you can’t help but smile a little, knowing exactly what this is. leehan’s been acting all weird because he’s jealous of gyuvin. it’s funny, in a way, how obvious it is.

but then something strange happens. leehan, in his hurry to send the message, accidentally taps on the wrong thread and sends the text to you instead of gyuvin.

you glance down at the screen, your eyes widening slightly as you read the message.

“hey, just letting you know, no one could ever replace y/n. i know i’m being weird, but i just... i don’t like sharing them with anyone else. i know it sounds stupid, but i don’t want anyone getting too close.”

you blink, processing what you’ve just read. you look up at leehan, who’s staring at his phone, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s just sent you that message.

your heart skips a beat.

“leehan,” you say softly, and his head snaps up at the sound of your voice.

“what?” he asks, his tone still casual, though you can tell he’s trying to hide his nerves.

“you sent me something,” you say, holding your phone up so he can see the screen. “and i think you meant to send it to gyuvin.”

his face goes pale for a second before he stammers, trying to backtrack. “oh... uh, no, it’s fine. i didn’t mean—i mean, it doesn’t matter.”

but you can tell it matters. the way his hands tighten around his phone, the way his eyes won’t meet yours. it’s clear he didn’t mean to be so... honest.

you smile softly, not wanting to make him feel too embarrassed, but also feeling a warmth spread in your chest. this is the leehan you know—the one who hides his feelings behind sarcasm and awkwardness.

“leehan,” you say gently, setting your phone down on the bed beside you. “it’s okay. i get it.”

he fidgets in his seat, not knowing what to say next. “i... i just don’t want to lose you, okay? i know i’m being dumb. it’s just... i don’t like sharing you with anyone.”

you pause for a moment, letting his words sink in. it’s not just about gyuvin; it’s about you and him, and the friendship that’s been there for so long. he’s scared of losing you, and that fear has been eating at him.

you lean forward, giving him a reassuring look. “leehan, you don’t have to worry about that. no one could ever replace you. you’re... you’re my best friend. no one else is going to take that away.”

he looks at you, his expression softening as the tension in his shoulders melts away. “yeah?”

you nod, smiling. “yeah.”

there’s a long pause, but it’s comfortable, and after a moment, leehan reaches over, grabbing his phone again. this time, he’s not texting gyuvin. instead, he opens the camera app and snaps a quick picture of the two of you sitting in the room, your faces caught in a moment of quiet understanding.

he pauses for a second, then types something out before posting it. you can’t help but peek over his shoulder.

it’s a simple caption: still the favorite, obviously

you laugh, shaking your head. “you’re such an oddball.”

leehan shrugs, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “only for you,” he says, and this time, there’s no hiding the warmth in his voice.

you’re still smiling when he stands up to leave, but before he heads out the door, he stops and turns around.

“you’re not going anywhere, right?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost as if he’s afraid of the answer.

you shake your head, standing up to walk him to the door. “no, leehan. i’m not going anywhere.”

he gives you a small smile, and with that, he leaves, the door clicking softly behind him.

you sit back down on your bed, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you. everything’s okay again. you’ve got your best friend back. no one’s going anywhere. and somehow, that’s all that matters.

~

tysm for reading :>

bnd taglist : @bxnedo

perm taglist : @s0shroe @minoouz

[elikajinnie]

Hi!! Idk if you do actual Hogwarts crossover but Heeseung and Draco Malfoy in the same story would be a dream 🙌💞💞

Just a thought though… haha. I love your work!

I Am Not In Distress - L.H & D.M

a/n: .... i could kiss you.. i LOVE THIS! Thank you for ur support! Hope you enjoy<3

P: Slytherins!Heeseung & Draco Malfoy X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Rivalry, Tension, Teasing, Suggestive Content, Ambigious Ending, they both desperate for you.

Synopsis: Purebloods are bad news—that’s what you always told yourself. Yet here you are, caught between two of them, both determined to have you. And this? It’s far from a friendly rivalry.

now playing: heartless by the weeknd | alejandro by lady gaga | bored by ari abdul

hogwarts au masterlist

--

You disliked purebloods to an extent—not enough to hate them outright, but just enough to stay clear of most of them. It wasn’t hard to form that opinion, not when so many of them walked around with a superiority complex, like the simple fact of their lineage made them better than everyone else. Half-bloods? Muggleborns? Practically dirt under their expensive shoes.

Most of them were in Slytherin, of course, which only cemented the stereotype further. And while you knew not every Slytherin was like that, it was easier to assume the worst and keep your distance. You didn’t have the patience for their arrogance, their entitled sneers, or the way they always traveled in packs, like a group of sharks smelling blood.

Out of all of them, though, two stood out as the absolute worst in your book. Draco Malfoy and Lee Heeseung.

Both were practically Slytherin royalty, both pureblooded to their cores, and both annoyingly aware of it. Wherever they went, people trailed behind them like lost puppies—giggling, flattering, desperate for their approval. It was sickening. You never gave either of them a second glance, which wasn’t difficult considering they were always too busy basking in their own popularity. And honestly? You thought you’d never have a reason to interact with either of them. Hogwarts was a big school, after all. You could go years without crossing paths in any meaningful way.

Or so you thought.

One stupid dungbomb. That’s all it took. Filch had caught you red-handed, and before you could even think of an excuse, you were marched off to detention, grumbling all the way. Cleaning duty. Fine. You could deal with that.

But what you hadn’t expected—what you couldn’t believe—was that you’d be stuck in the same room with both Draco Malfoy and Lee Heeseung. Just the three of you.

Fantastic.

This was shaping up to be the longest detention of your life.

When they spotted you, their conversation halted mid-sentence. Both Heeseung and Draco turned their heads, their sharp gazes locking onto you like a pair of predators catching sight of their prey. You could feel their eyes tracing over every inch of you, sizing you up, as if your mere presence had somehow interrupted their perfect little world.

It was unnerving.... to say the least. Their stares weren’t casual—they were calculated, assessing, almost intrigued. You shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the hem of your robe as if that would somehow shield you from their scrutiny. Without sparing them another glance, you made your way to the table and began organizing the potion ingredients the way Professor Snape had instructed. If you focused on the task, maybe they’d leave you alone. Maybe you could get through this detention without having to speak to either of them.

But, of course, life wasn’t that kind.

“Well, well,” Heeseung drawled, his voice smooth and just a little too smug for your liking. “Who would’ve thought you’d end up in detention?”

You didn’t look up, keeping your eyes trained on the jars of dried herbs in front of you. “Yeah, real shocking,” you muttered under your breath, hoping he’d take the hint and drop it.

He didn’t.

Draco chimed in next, his tone dripping with his usual snide arrogance. “Didn’t take you for the type. I thought you were supposed to be all proper.” He let out a quiet laugh, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Or did I get that wrong? Maybe you're more suited to being a troublemaker.”

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to stay focused on the task at hand. You weren’t about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. “Maybe you should mind your own business,” you said evenly, not even sparing them a glance.

That only seemed to encourage them.

“Oh, don’t get all shy on us now,” Heeseung said, his voice laced with mock amusement. He stepped closer, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty room. “You’re already in detention with us. Might as well make the most of it.”

Draco chuckled at that, his laughter light but tinged with malice. “Exactly. It’s not every day we get to be with someone so... charming.”

The sarcasm in his voice was impossible to miss, and your patience was starting to wear thin. You slammed a jar of powdered asphodel down onto the table a little harder than necessary and finally turned to face them.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is,” you snapped, your eyes narrowing as you glared at them, “but I’m just here to serve my detention and leave. So why don’t you both do the same and stop bothering me?”

For a moment, they both just stared at you, as if surprised you’d actually spoken up. Then, to your irritation, Heeseung’s lips curved into a slow, amused smile.

“Feisty,” he remarked, his tone almost teasing. “I enjoy that.”

Draco smirked as well, crossing his arms as he leaned casually against the table. “Careful, Heeseung,” he said, his voice dripping with mock warning. “You might scare her off.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the ingredients with a muttered, “Idiots.”

The three of you carried on with your assigned tasks in silence—at first. If you pretended hard enough, it was almost like you were alone in the room.

But, of course, they couldn’t leave you in peace for too long.

“Is it just me, or does she seem a little too focused on her work?” Heeseung mused aloud, his tone light and deliberately provoking.

Draco snickered. “Overcompensating, maybe? Trying to make up for their little... incident.”

You ignored them, carefully placing a jar of beetle eyes onto the shelf. They were just trying to get a rise out of you. If you didn’t react, they’d get bored and move on.

“Oi,” Heeseung called out after a moment, his voice laced with mock curiosity. “You’re not ignoring us, are you? That’d be rude, don’t you think, Draco?”

“Oh, very rude,” Draco agreed, feigning an exaggerated gasp. “But then again, I suppose we shouldn’t expect much better. Detention and manners don’t exactly go hand in hand, do they?”

You tightened your grip on the jar in your hand but still refused to look at them. Breathe in. Breathe out. They were just words. Nothing worth wasting your energy on.

“Think she’s mad at us?” Heeseung asked, leaning lazily against a nearby desk, his voice full of mock innocence. “I mean, it’s not like we’re the reason she’s here in detention. Are we?”

Draco chuckled, leaning forward slightly as if to get a better look at you. “Oh, I don’t think she’s mad, Heeseung. I think she’s just too embarrassed to talk to us. Can’t blame her, really.”

This time, you rolled your eyes but kept your mouth shut, stacking a few jars onto the shelf with more force than necessary. You could hear them snickering behind you, clearly pleased with themselves.

“Nothing to say?” Heeseung pressed, stepping closer, his voice taking on a teasing sing-song quality. “Come on, it’s not like we’re that scary. Are we, Draco?”

“Terrifying,” Draco said with a smirk. “Absolutely petrifying.”

You finally turned your head just enough to glare at them over your shoulder. “Do either of you ever shut up?” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

Heeseung’s grin widened. “There it is,” he said, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Knew you couldn’t hold out forever.”

You gritted your teeth, cursing yourself internally for giving them even the smallest reaction. Without another word, you turned back to your work.

“You know,” Draco said, clearly still enjoying himself, “it’s actually impressive how much restraint you’ve got. Most people would’ve cracked by now.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung agreed, his tone dripping with amusement. “But I think we can do better, don’t you?”

Fantastic. They’d taken your response as a challenge.

The rest of detention dragged on painfully, with both Draco and Heeseung continuing their relentless teasing. It was as if they’d made a silent pact to see who could irritate you the most.

Draco started by pretending to inspect your work. He sauntered over, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the ingredients you’d just organized. “Hmm,” he muttered, tapping his chin dramatically. “You’ve mislabeled this one, you know. Wouldn’t want Snape to find out, would you? He’s not exactly forgiving when it comes to incompetence.”

You didn’t even glance at him, your voice flat as you replied, “I didn’t mislabel anything, Malfoy.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, picking up a jar and holding it just out of your reach. “So confident, aren’t you? Let’s see… powdered bicorn horn, is it? Or was it powdered something-else-entirely?”

“That is powdered bicorn horn, genius,” you shot back, snatching the jar from his hand and placing it firmly on the shelf. “Try harder.”

Draco blinked, as though surprised you didn’t falter, but the smirk quickly returned to his face. “Not bad,” he said, a lazy drawl in his voice. “But I wasn’t wrong about Snape, you know. One slip-up, and you’ll be scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of the year.”

“Good thing I don’t make mistakes, then,” you retorted, already turning your back on him.

Draco huffed softly but didn’t push further—for now. Heeseung, however, decided it was his turn.

“You’re pretty quick with comebacks,” Heeseung remarked, his voice smooth as silk. He leaned against the table next to you, watching you carefully. “Must’ve had a lot of practice, huh? Who do you argue with so much? Your friends? Or maybe your professors? Bet they love you.”

You exhaled sharply, doing your best to ignore him. Heeseung’s teasing was less obvious than Draco’s, but it was no less infuriating. He had a way of making everything he said sound like a compliment, even when it clearly wasn’t.

“You know, it’s kind of impressive,” he continued, smirking when you didn’t answer. “I mean, most people would’ve lost their temper by now. You’re… stubborn.” He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Or is it pride? Which one is it?”

“Neither,” you muttered, slamming another jar onto the shelf. “It’s called wanting to finish this detention without having to listen to you two.”

“Ah, so you are listening,” Heeseung teased, his grin widening.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to take the bait. If you kept engaging with them, this detention would feel even longer than it already did. You just had to make it through this. Just a little longer.

But they weren’t done yet.

“Do you think she’s always this serious?” Draco asked Heeseung, loud enough for you to hear. “I mean, look at her. Practically fuming. It’s like she’s never heard of having a bit of fun.”

“Probably doesn’t know how to have fun,” Heeseung agreed, shaking his head mockingly. “Sad, really.”

“Very sad,” Draco echoed with a smirk.

It wasn’t until the end of detention that they finally let up, though not without a parting shot.

As you were putting away the last of the ingredients, Heeseung leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. “You know, this wasn’t so bad. We should do it again sometime.”

Draco snorted, smirking as he added, “Yeah. Let us know next time you get caught. We’d hate to miss out.”

You shot them both a glare before turning on your heel and leaving the room without another word. Their laughter followed you out, echoing down the corridor.

As frustrating as it had been, you were proud of yourself for not giving them the reaction they’d wanted—at least, not entirely. But as you walked back to your dorm, you couldn’t help but feel a sinking suspicion that this wasn’t the last time they’d try to get under your skin....

Turns out, your guess was absolutely, fucking correct.

The very next day in History of Magic, you settled into your usual seat near the back of the classroom, fully prepared to endure another hour of Professor Binns’ dull droning. Your plan was simple: take notes, avoid eye contact with anyone, and maybe even catch up on some homework if Binns got too repetitive. Easy.

Or so you thought.

The first sign that your day was about to spiral downward was the sound of a chair scraping obnoxiously close beside you. You looked up, confused, only to see Draco lowering himself gracefully into the seat next to yours, acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His smirk was already in place, and you could feel your blood pressure rising.

Before you could even process his sudden and unwelcome appearance, Heeseung dropped into the seat on your other side with the kind of casual arrogance that only someone like him could pull off. He leaned back lazily, his long legs stretching out under the desk as if he owned the entire classroom.

“Morning,” Heeseung said smoothly, as if the two of you were old friends.

Draco didn’t bother with pleasantries, instead glancing at you with a raised eyebrow and a mocking smile.

You blinked, your brain short-circuiting for a moment as you stared at the two boys flanking you. They were both watching you expectantly, like they were waiting for some kind of reaction.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” you hissed, your voice low enough to avoid attracting Binns’ attention.

Draco shrugged, his expression annoyingly smug. “What does it look like? Sitting. Breathing. Existing.”

“Unfortunately for you,” Heeseung added, his lips twitching with amusement.

“Plenty of empty seats,” you snapped, gesturing to the rest of the classroom. “Go exist somewhere else.”

Draco leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the desk as he tilted his head toward you. “Why would we do that when we’ve got you right here?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but before you could respond, Heeseung cut in. “Don’t be so cold. We’re just here to keep you company. You looked a little lonely.”

“Lonely?” you repeated, incredulous. “I was perfectly fine until you two showed up.”

“Exactly,” Draco said, smirking. “Too fine. Can’t have that, can we?”

You groaned quietly, dragging a hand down your face. Of all the people in the school, why did they have to decide you were worth bothering?

Class started, and you tried your best to ignore them, determined to focus on Professor Binns’ lecture. But, of course, neither Draco nor Heeseung had any intention of letting that happen.

Every few minutes, one of them would whisper some snide remark or another, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Do you even understand what Binns is saying?” Draco muttered at one point, leaning closer to you. “Sounds like he’s speaking Mermish, doesn’t it?”

You ignored him, scribbling furiously in your notebook.

“She’s actually taking notes,” Heeseung whispered to Draco, his voice dripping with fake awe. “How noble.”

“Very noble,” Draco agreed. “But, then again, she does have a reputation to uphold. Isn’t that right?”

You gripped your quill tighter, willing yourself to stay calm.

When you didn’t respond, Heeseung leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Are you really going to keep ignoring us all class? That’s no fun.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give them the satisfaction of looking at them.

Draco, clearly delighted by your silence, smirked and added, “Maybe she’s just shy, Heeseung. You know how it is. Some people get nervous around greatness.”

At that, your quill snapped in half.

The sound was loud enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby students, but thankfully, Binns remained as oblivious as ever. You let out a slow, frustrated breath, carefully setting the broken quill down before turning to glare at the two of them.

“What do you want?” you hissed, your voice low but venomous.

They exchanged a glance, their smirks widening.

“To keep you entertained,” Heeseung said innocently.

“Consider it a public service,” Draco added with a mock bow of his head.

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your notes. “You’re both insufferable.”

“Thanks,” Heeseung said with a grin, leaning back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world.

For the rest of class, they didn’t let up, continuing until you were practically counting down the seconds until the end. By the time class was over, your nerves were completely frayed. Bolting upright, you were determined to escape the classroom and leave Draco and Heeseung behind. But before you could even take two steps, you felt a hand at your waist.

You froze, glancing down to see Heeseung’s arm wrapping itself around you in a way that was far too casual for your liking. His hand rested lightly at your side, as if this was something he did every day.

“What are you doing?” you asked sharply, trying to twist away, but his grip only tightened—gentle, but firm enough to stop you from slipping free.

“Relax,” he said smoothly, his tone far too self-assured. “Just thought I’d help you out. Wouldn’t want you to get lost on your way to class, after all.”

You glared at him, but before you could retort, Draco sauntered up beside you. “Heeseung’s right,” he drawled. “We are all headed to the same place, after all. It would be terribly rude of us not to walk you there.”

“Oh, how thoughtful of you,” you snapped, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You tried to step away again, but Heeseung matched your pace effortlessly, keeping his arm firmly around your waist as he steered you toward the door.

“See? She appreciates it,” Heeseung said, ignoring your tone entirely.

Draco chuckled, falling into step on your other side. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t say thank you,” you shot back, glaring at them both.

“Not out loud,” Draco said, his smirk widening. “But I can tell you’re grateful. You just don’t want to admit it.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, deciding that arguing with them would only make things worse. Instead, you focused on walking as quickly as possible, hoping to reach your next class and put some distance between yourself and the two infuriating Slytherins.

Unfortunately, they seemed to have other plans.

As the three of you made your way down the corridor, Heeseung kept his arm firmly in place, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Draco, meanwhile, kept up a steady stream of commentary, most of it designed to annoy you.

“Do you always walk this fast?” Draco asked at one point, easily keeping up with your hurried pace. “Or are you just trying to get away from us?”

“Obviously the second one,” you muttered, not bothering to look at him.

Heeseung chuckled, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he guided you around a corner. “Aw, don’t be like that. We’re just trying to be friendly.”

“This is what you call ‘friendly’?” you shot back.

“Of course,” Draco said, his smirk never faltering. “You should consider yourself lucky, really. We don’t do this for just anyone.”

“Oh, I feel so special,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes.

“You should,” Heeseung replied, his tone teasing. “Not everyone gets to be escorted to class by the two most charming people in Hogwarts.”

You snorted. “Charming? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Don’t act like you’re not impressed,” Draco said, clearly enjoying himself.

By the time you finally reached the door to your next class, your patience was hanging by a thread. As you tried to step away, Heeseung finally released his hold on your waist, but not before leaning down slightly and murmuring, “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You shot him a glare, but before you could respond, Draco spoke up. “Looks like we’re all here,” he said, glancing into the classroom.

You groaned inwardly, resisting the urge to bang your head against the nearest wall. This was going to be a long day.

You slipped away from them quickly, weaving through the rows of desks until you found a seat at the very front of the class. If there was one place they wouldn’t dare to bother you, it was here—right under the professor’s nose. At least, that’s what you hoped.

You were determined to focus, to shake off whatever bizarre fixation Draco and Heeseung had developed on you since detention.

But, of course, you should have figured it out by now. Once you had their attention—for whatever inexplicable reason—they weren’t going to let up.

You’d barely settled into your seat when you heard the faint scrape of chairs moving directly behind you. Your stomach dropped as you turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of the two boys taking the seats directly behind yours, looking far too pleased with themselves.

Heeseung leaned forward, resting his arms casually on the edge of your desk. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low so only you could hear, “running away isn’t very polite. We walked you here, after all.”

“Not to mention,” Draco added from your other side, “we were hoping for a nice little chat. But here you are, acting like we’re some kind of nuisance.”

“Because you are,” you hissed under your breath, glaring at them both.

Draco feigned a wounded expression, clutching his chest dramatically. “How cruel. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

“Keep dreaming, Malfoy,” you muttered, turning back to face the front of the class.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Heeseung said, his tone light and teasing. He poked you lightly with the end of his quill. “We’re just trying to make your day more exciting.”

“By annoying me?” you shot back, swatting his quill away.

“Exactly,” he replied with a grin.

Before you could retort, the professor entered the room, and the class fell into a semblance of quiet. You let out a relieved breath, grateful for the temporary reprieve. Surely, they wouldn’t risk drawing attention to themselves now—not with a professor watching.

But you should’ve known better.

Throughout the lecture, you felt the occasional nudge against the back of your chair—Heeseung, no doubt, trying to get your attention. You ignored him. Then there was the faint sound of parchment being crumpled, followed by a soft thud as a tiny ball of paper landed on your desk.

You unfolded it reluctantly, your irritation mounting.

Inside, in Draco’s neat handwriting, was a single line: “Having fun yet?”

You crumpled the paper back up and tossed it over your shoulder without a word, not caring where it landed. You heard Draco chuckle softly behind you, clearly amused by your reaction.

A few minutes later, another paper ball landed on your desk. This time, it was from Heeseung, the writing messier but just as irritating: “You know you can’t keep this up forever, right?”

You sighed, your patience wearing thin. Without looking back, you scribbled a reply on the paper and tossed it over your shoulder.

It wasn’t long before you heard Draco snicker. “Looks like she finally have something to say.”

Heeseung unfolded the paper and read your message, keeping his voice low. “Leave me alone before I hex you both into next week.”

“Hex us?” Draco repeated, his tone dripping with mock disbelief. “How positively violent.”

“Indeed,” Heeseung added with a grin.

By the time class ended, you were practically bolting for the door, hoping to escape before they could follow. But, of course, they were right on your heels, flanking you once again as you stepped into the hallway.

“See?” Draco said, falling into step beside you. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I barely noticed you were there,” you lied, shooting him a sideways glare.

“Ouch,” Heeseung said, clutching his chest dramatically. “You really know how to hurt a guy, don’t you?”

You quickened your pace, hoping they’d get bored and leave you alone. But as they continued to trail after you, still grinning like they’d won some kind of game.

You were practically weaving through the crowd of students filling the hallways. Surely, they had better things to do than to keep following you like persistent shadows?

Right?

But, of course, they didn’t.

“So,” Heeseung said casually, keeping stride beside you as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “What’s next on your schedule? Care to share?”

“I bet it’s something riveting,” Draco added on your other side, his smirk firmly in place. “Like Herbology or... Divination.”

You gritted your teeth, refusing to answer.

“Silent treatment again?” Heeseung asked, leaning slightly closer. “You know, that’s starting to hurt my feelings.”

“I didn’t realize you had feelings,” you shot back before you could stop yourself, your frustration finally bubbling to the surface.

Draco let out a bark of laughter, clearly delighted. “There it is! Knew you couldn’t stay quiet forever.”

“Careful, Malfoy,” you said sharply, stopping in your tracks to glare at both of them. “If you keep pushing me, you’ll find out exactly how much quieter your life will be with a Silencing Charm.”

“Oh, scary,” Heeseung teased, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes that made you want to hex him right then and there.

Draco, ever the instigator, stepped closer with that same irritating smirk. “Go on, then. Let’s see it. I could use a good laugh before our next class.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him.

Heeseung, clearly enjoying himself, stepped in as if to defuse the tension—though his tone was anything but sincere. “Now, now, let’s not resort to violence. We wouldn’t want anyone to get detention again, would we?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving past them both and continuing down the hallway. “I don’t have time for this,” you muttered under your breath, hoping they’d finally take the hint.

But, they didn’t.

Instead, they followed you all the way to your next class.

“Should we place bets on where she’s sitting this time?” Draco mused aloud as you entered the classroom.

“I’m guessing front and center,” Heeseung replied, trailing after you. “Seems like their style.”

You ignored them completely, choosing a seat near the middle of the room this time.

And the moment you sat down, they flanked you on either side, their presence looming before you could even pull out your notes. Heeseung plopped into the seat on your right, draping one arm casually over the back of your chair, while Draco claimed the seat on your left with his usual air of entitlement.

“Miss us?” Heeseung asked, flashing you an infuriating grin.

“Not even a little,” you replied, your tone flat.

“Liar,” Draco said smoothly, leaning just enough to invade your personal space. “Admit it. You’d be bored out of your mind without us.”

“I was doing just fine before you two started this little... whatever this is,” you shot back, glaring between them.

“‘This little whatever this is’?” Heeseung repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Ouch. You’re really struggling with words today, huh? Must be the company.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the professor walked into the room, signaling the start of class. “Will you two just—”

“Shh,” Draco interrupted, holding a finger to his lips. “Class is starting. Let’s be respectful, shall we?”

You shot him a glare, but he only grinned in response, clearly pleased with himself.

For the next hour, they both continued their antics—soft whispers, poking at your notes, and the occasional “accidental” nudge to your arm. Every time you tried to focus, one of them would find some new way to distract you, and by the end of the lesson, your patience was hanging by a thread.

As soon as the professor dismissed the class, you bolted from your seat, determined to escape before they could follow you again.

But, they were right behind you in an instant.

“So,” Heeseung said as the three of you stepped into the hallway, “what’s next? Lunch? Study session?”

“Or,” Draco added, his smirk widening, “are you finally going to admit that you enjoy our company and stop running away?”

You stopped in your tracks, spinning around to face them both with an exasperated glare. “Why are you two so obsessed with bothering me?”

They exchanged a glance, their smirks never faltering.

“Because it’s fun,” Heeseung said simply, shrugging.

“And because you’re so bad at ignoring us,” Draco added, his tone practically gleeful.

You groaned, turning back around and storming off down the hallway. “You two are unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath.

You were on the verge of snapping, your fists clenched at your sides as Draco and Heeseung trailed after you like determined shadows.

And just when you thought you’d never get a moment of peace, salvation arrived.

“Draco! Heeseung!”

A loud, familiar voice rang out from the end of the corridor. You glanced up to see a group of Slytherins heading toward you. Blaise Zabini was leading the pack, with Pansy Parkinson and a few others following close behind, their expressions curious as they spotted the two boys at your side.

“Oh, great,” you muttered under your breath, praying that this didn’t somehow make things worse.

“Looks like our friends are here,” Heeseung said, his grin widening as Blaise reached them.

“Friends?” Draco drawled, shooting you a quick, smug glance before turning to greet the others. “They’re more like pests.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Blaise retorted with a smirk, crossing his arms as his gaze flickered to you. “And who’s this? Your new... project?”

You bristled at the comment, opening your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, Pansy cut in.

“Draco, Heeseung,” she said, her voice dripping with honey, “we’ve been looking for you everywhere. What are you two doing hanging around here?” Her eyes flickered to you briefly, but she didn’t seem all that interested.

Draco waved her off lazily. “Just having some fun.”

“With her?” Blaise asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You decided that was your cue to leave. With their attention now firmly on Draco and Heeseung, you took a slow step backward, careful not to draw attention to yourself.

To your immense relief, neither of them seemed to notice as you slipped away, blending into the crowd of students moving through the hallway.

Once you were out of sight, you quickened your pace, weaving through the corridors until you reached the library.

Finding an empty table near the back, you set your things down and let out a relieved sigh. Finally, some peace.

You pulled out your notes, determined to get some studying done before your next class. For the first time all day, you felt like you could actually breathe without the weight of two smirking Slytherins bearing down on you.

But as you started reviewing your notes, a nagging thought crept into your mind: why had they suddenly decided to fixate on you? And more importantly, how long would it last?

Whatever their reasons, you weren’t going to let them distract you any more than they already had.

Finally, without Draco and Heeseung’s incessant teasing, you could concentrate. The words on the page seemed to make sense again as you worked through your assignments, your quill scratching quietly against the parchment.

You were so immersed in your work that you didn’t notice someone approaching until they were right next to your table.

“Found you,” a familiar voice said, smooth and far too smug.

Your head snapped up, and your heart sank as you saw Draco standing there, his arms crossed.

Behind him, Heeseung strolled in, looking far too pleased with himself as he dropped into the chair across from you. “Nice hiding spot,” he said, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place. “Took us a minute to figure out where you’d run off to.”

You stared at them, utterly dumbfounded. “Are you serious? Do you two not have anything better to do?”

“Not really,” Heeseung replied with a shrug, as if the answer was obvious.

“We were bored,” Draco added, sliding into the seat beside you without waiting for an invitation. He propped his chin on his hand, turning to you with an almost lazy smile. “And you’re far more entertaining than whatever Blaise and Pansy were droning on about.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “What do you even want from me?”

Draco leaned closer, his voice dropping just enough to make it feel conspiratorial. “What’s wrong with wanting to spend time with you?”

“Plenty,” you snapped, your tone sharp. “Because I don’t want to spend time with you.”

Heeseung let out a low chuckle, clearly unbothered by your hostility. “See, that’s what makes this fun. Most people fall over themselves to get on our good side. But you?” He gestured to you. “You’re not afraid to tell us off. It’s refreshing.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your notes in the hopes that ignoring them might make them leave. “I don’t care if you find it refreshing. Go bother someone else.”

But, of course, they stayed put.

Draco pulled one of your books closer to him, flipping through it idly. “History of Magic? Boring,” he commented, wrinkling his nose.

Heeseung leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he peered at your notes. “Are you really studying, or are you just pretending so we’ll leave you alone?”

You slapped your hand down over your parchment, glaring at him. “I was studying until you showed up.”

Draco laughed, tossing the book aside. “ Admit it. You’d miss us if we left you alone.”

“I’d celebrate if you left me alone,” you shot back.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Heeseung said, leaning even closer. “You’ll hurt our feelings.”

“I doubt either of you has feelings,” you muttered under your breath, turning your attention back to your notes.

Draco raised an eyebrow, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Keep telling yourself that.”

For the next few minutes, they continued their antics—poking at your books, making sarcastic comments about your notes, and generally being as insufferable as possible.

But then Madam Pince’s sharp voice cut through the air. “If you three can’t keep it down, I’ll have you removed from the library!”

You seized the opportunity, shooting to your feet and gathering your things. “Good idea,” you said, your tone clipped. “I’ll remove myself.”

Before they could say anything, you slipped past them and hurried out of the library, your heart pounding with equal parts irritation and relief.

--

Another thing you hated about pureblood Slytherins was their egos—massive, sky-high, and unrelenting. It would take a catastrophic event to bring them down a peg. And because of that ego, they always went for things that would feed it, things that would boost their status, power, and sense of superiority. They believed they deserved the best—whether it was fame, wealth, influence, or...

Well, apparently you.

Which made absolutely no sense.

Because here you were, in the middle of yet another detention (this time for hexing a Gryffindor who wouldn’t take no for an answer—big deal), and somehow, somehow, you’d ended up against the wall of the empty Potions classroom.

Kissing Heeseung.

Your brain struggled to catch up with the situation, thoughts running in frantic circles as his lips pressed firmly against yours. It wasn’t soft or hesitant, no—it was confident and teasing, much like the boy himself.

How the hell had it come to this?

Just moments ago, you’d been sitting at your desk, silently fuming as Snape rattled off on a long lecture before leaving you to clean up the mess of spilled potion ingredients. Heeseung, had been there too, lounging in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” he had said, leaning back with an infuriating grin. “Hexing people now? You’re starting to sound like us, you know.”

“Don’t lump me in with you,” you’d snapped, aggressively scrubbing the cauldron in front of you.

“Why not? You’ve got the temper for it,” he’d teased, standing up and sauntering closer.

You’d turned to glare at him, your grip tightening on the rag in your hand. “Say that again, and I’ll hex you next.”

“Oh, scary,” he’d murmured, leaning in just enough to make your breath hitch. “Go ahead. Hex me. I dare you.”

And then, before you could even think of a retort, he’d closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours with the same audacity that he carried in everything he did.

Now, here you were, pinned against the cold stone wall, your heart racing and your hands frozen mid-air as he kissed you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your first coherent thought was to push him off, and you did—your palms pressing against his chest as you shoved him back. He stepped away with a smirk, completely unbothered, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

Heeseung tilted his head, his smirk never faltering. “What does it look like? It’s called kissing.”

“You don’t just—just do that!” you sputtered, your cheeks burning with anger.

“Why not?” he asked, his tone maddeningly casual. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” he said smoothly, running a hand through his hair like he hadn’t just turned your entire world upside down.

“Don’t thank me—it wasn’t a compliment!” you snapped, still trying to wrap your head around what had just happened.

Heeseung laughed softly, stepping closer again—but this time, you pressed your back firmly against the wall, holding up a hand to stop him.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned, your eyes narrowing.

“Relax,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m not going to kiss you again.”

“Good,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Because it wouldn’t happen even if you tried.”

“Really?” he asked, as he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “Because I think you liked it.”

Your jaw dropped, and you opened your mouth to argue—but no words came out.

Because, unfortunately, a very small part of you had liked it.

And from the way Heeseung was looking at you, he knew it too.

That brief moment of hesitation—barely a second—was all Heeseung needed.

Before you could pull yourself together or think of something sharp to say, he closed the distance again, capturing your lips in another kiss. This time, it was different. It wasn’t rushed or teasing—it was confident, and demanding.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Your hands shot up to push him back, but he was faster. His fingers wrapped around your wrists, and with a swift movement, he pinned them above your head against the stone wall.

The shift startled you, and your lips parted to protest, but Heeseung used the moment to deepen the kiss, groaning softly into your mouth as his body pressed against yours.

Your heart was racing, pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. You hated the way his touch sent a shiver down your spine, hated the way his lips moved against yours like he knew exactly what he was doing.

But most of all, you hated that you weren’t stopping him.

It had been a while—a long while—since you’d let anyone get this close to you. And you couldn’t deny that Heeseung was... handsome. Annoyingly so. And, as much as it pained you to admit, a damn good kisser.

You fought it at first, your pride screaming at you to push him off, to put him back in his place. But the longer the kiss went on, the harder it was to ignore the way your body was betraying you by leaning into his.

Heeseung must’ve felt the shift because his grip on your wrists loosened slightly, as he realized you weren’t resisting anymore.

So, you let yourself indulge, just for a moment. Your lips moved against his, tentative at first, then more certain as you gave in.

His groan deepened, vibrating against your mouth, and the sound sent another shiver down your spine. His hands slid from your wrists, releasing you as his palms settled on your waist instead, pulling you closer.

For a moment, it was easy to forget where you were, easy to ignore the fact that this was Heeseung, an insufferable pureblood Slytherin.

But the moment couldn’t last forever.

The sharp creak of the classroom door opening snapped you out of it like a bucket of cold water.

You shoved Heeseung away, your breath coming in quick, uneven pants as you turned toward the sound. Filch’s scruffy silhouette loomed in the doorway, his squinting eyes scanning the room suspiciously.

“What’s all this noise?” he barked, his voice gravelly and accusing.

Your face burned as you quickly stepped away from Heeseung, who looked frustratingly calm and unbothered, like he hadn’t just kissed you senseless against the wall.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, smoothing down your robes and hoping your flushed face wasn’t too obvious.

Filch grumbled something under his breath before narrowing his eyes at the both of you. “Get back to work,” he snapped, before turning and stomping off down the hallway.

As the door slammed shut behind him, you turned to glare at Heeseung, who was watching you with a satisfied smile, his hair slightly mussed and his lips still pink from the kiss.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you hissed, keeping your voice low just in case Filch was still nearby.

Heeseung shrugged, his smirk only widening. “You didn’t seem to mind it by the end.”

Your face burned again, and you clenched your fists, tempted to hex him on the spot. “Don’t push your luck.”

He stepped closer, leaning down just enough to whisper in your ear. “If that’s how you react when you resist, I can’t wait to see how you act when you’re not trying to fight it.”

Before you could respond—either with words or violence—he was already moving away, leaving you standing there, furious, flustered, and more confused than ever.

--

Okay, so maybe kissing Heeseung wasn’t that bad. The guy had practically acted desperate for it, like he’d been waiting for that moment forever. And fine, you’d kind of enjoyed it.

But you’d sworn to yourself—repeatedly, in fact—that it would never, ever, in a million, trillion, gazillion years, happen again. You wouldn’t allow it.

…Except, apparently, self-control was harder than you thought.

Because here you were, pressed up against the cold stone wall near the Slytherin common room, Heeseung’s robes fanning out around you as he shielded you from view, his hand gripping the side of your neck while his lips moved hungrily against yours.

Your hands weren’t much better—they had a mind of their own, one gripping his tie and the other clutching at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

It was reckless. It was stupid. It was everything you’d sworn you wouldn’t let happen again.

And yet, when his thumb brushed the sensitive skin of your jaw and his tongue grazed your lower lip, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Heeseung broke the kiss for just a second, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

“You’re terrible at keeping promises to yourself, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and slightly ragged.

“Shut up,” you muttered, but there wasn’t any real bite to it, not with the way your chest was heaving and your fingers were still gripping his tie.

Heeseung chuckled softly, leaning down to press another kiss to the corner of your mouth before trailing his lips along your jaw, making your breath hitch.

“This is a bad idea,” you said, even as you tilted your head to give him better access.

“The worst,” he agreed, his voice muffled against your skin.

“You’re going to get us caught,” you added, your fingers tightening in his shirt.

“Then stop me,” he challenged, pulling back just enough to look at you, his smirk creeping back now.

You hated how smug he looked, like he knew you wouldn’t actually do it. And the worst part? He was right.

Instead of pushing him away, you pulled him closer, tugging on his tie and crashing your lips back onto his. His quiet groan vibrated against your mouth as his hand slid down to your waist, gripping you like he was afraid you might change your mind.

But you didn’t.

At least, not until the sound of approaching footsteps made both of you freeze.

Heeseung cursed under his breath, quickly adjusting his robes and stepping back just enough to make it look like nothing had happened. You smoothed down your hair and robes in record time, silently praying that whoever was coming wouldn’t notice how flushed you looked.

A group of Slytherin students rounded the corner, laughing and talking amongst themselves. One of them narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the two of you as he passed.

“What are you doing lurking out here?” he asked, his tone dripping with suspicion.

“Just talking,” Heeseung said smoothly, flashing one of his charming smiles.

The slytherin didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged and kept walking, the rest of the group following him into the common room.

As soon as they were out of sight, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, turning to glare at Heeseung.

“This is why I said it was a bad idea,” you hissed.

Heeseung grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “Bad ideas are more fun, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him as you headed down the hallway. “Don’t get used to it, Heeseung. It’s not happening again.”

“Whatever you say,” he called after you, his tone confident. “But you’re terrible at keeping promises, remember?”

You didn’t bother responding, but the heat creeping up your neck told you that, once again, he was probably right.

And he was right… again, and again, and again.

It was infuriating how easily Heeseung managed to worm his way back to you, over and over. At first, it was once a day—a moment between classes or in an empty corridor. Then once became twice, twice became four, and before you knew it... you’d lost count.

It was like he’d memorized your schedule, always managing to find you at the exact moment you were alone. Whether it was slipping into an empty classroom, pulling you into a alcove, or even cornering you in the library when no one else was around, Heeseung always found a way.

And the worst part? You let him.

Every time, you told yourself it would be the last. Every time, you promised you’d shove him away, hex him, or at least say no. But the moment his lips were on yours, his hands gripping your waist or threading through your hair, your resolve crumbled like parchment in a fire.

And it was always him who started it—Heeseung who instigated, Heeseung who sought you out, Heeseung who acted like you were his personal secret to keep.

And you hated yourself for how much you didn’t hate it.

This time, it was in an empty stairwell, tucked away from prying eyes. You barely had time to register his presence before he was there, his hand grabbing yours and pulling you into the shadowed corner.

“Heeseung,” you hissed, but he didn’t give you a chance to protest.

His lips crashed onto yours with the same familiar desperation, one hand curling around the back of your neck while the other slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him. You gasped into his mouth, fingers curling into his robes before you could stop yourself.

“Missed you,” he mumbled against your lips, his voice low and breathless.

“You saw me two hours ago,” you muttered, but your words were muffled as he kissed you again, stealing away whatever resistance you’d managed to muster.

Two hours, four hours, it didn’t matter. The way he kissed you made it feel like he’d been waiting an eternity.

And it was addictive.

“People are going to notice,” you said between kisses, your hands gripping his shoulders like they were the only thing keeping you upright.

“Let them,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, though you knew he didn’t mean it. Whatever this was between you, it was still a secret. A forbidden, reckless secret that you both somehow managed to keep under wraps.

For now.

But Heeseung didn’t seem to care about the risk. If anything, it only seemed to fuel him.

“Stop overthinking,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your jaw before trailing down your neck. You shivered, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his robes as he pressed a particularly firm kiss just below your ear.

For someone you were supposed to dislike, Heeseung had a way of making you forget all the reasons why this was a bad idea.

You would’ve thought that someone would’ve noticed. With the way things were escalating, it seemed impossible that no one had caught on. But somehow, miraculously, no one did. You figured you and Heeseung would keep this up for a while, maybe until one of you got bored, or until your resistance finally cracked through.

But of course, that didn’t happen.

Instead, what happened was Draco.

It started off like any other day—just another class, just another moment when you were certain you’d get through the day without any major complications. You were walking down the hall, trying to get to the library for a study session when you felt a familiar, irritating presence looming just behind you.

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Draco. The smug aura he exuded practically followed him like a cloud.

But then, before you could even make the decision to ignore him, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you to a stop.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked, a sharp edge to your voice as you yanked your wrist back.

“I think we need to talk,” Draco said, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light you didn’t trust for a second.

You crossed your arms, eyeing him with suspicion. “What, about what? How much of a pain you are?”

“Something like that,” he murmured.

You barely had time to react before Draco closed the gap between you, one hand gripping your shoulder as he pulled you towards him. His lips pressed against yours with a force you hadn’t expected, and your body tensed in shock.

It wasn’t like Heeseung’s kisses, not in the least. Where Heeseung was often teasing, in a way that made you shiver, Draco was… commanding. He kissed you like he thought he had every right to, like there was no room for resistance.

Your first instinct was to push him away, but then you froze. Your body didn’t react the way it had with Heeseung—there was no heat flooding your chest, no rush of excitement. Instead, you were caught between the confusion of why this was happening and the overwhelming sense of deja vu.

Draco pulled back just slightly, looking at you with an amused glint in his eyes. “Surprised, aren’t you?”

You blinked, still trying to process what the hell had just happened. “Why would you—”

“Because I can,” Draco interrupted smoothly, his tone all too familiar, like he was enjoying this more than he should.

You scoffed, trying to push him off, but his grip on your shoulder tightened, keeping you locked in place. "You’re insane,” you muttered.

“Yeah," Draco said with a smirk. "But you’ll always remember that i gave you attention.”

And with that, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary before he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you standing there, dazed and more confused then ever.

Well, this was a lost cause.

You really didn’t know if they had taken something, or if you had somehow been sprayed down by some potion that made them act this way. Or maybe they’d both gone completely mad. Because now, you were stuck in this strange, twisted mess where both Heeseung and Draco seemed to think they had the right to kiss you whenever they felt like it. And worse, you couldn’t resist.

Every time they were near, your resolve crumbled faster than you could rebuild it. One would find you in the hallway, the other in the library, and then it would happen again. Another kiss. Another moment you had no control over.

It was maddening, but also… tempting.

There was a part of you that couldn’t deny it. Sure, you could resist them, keep pushing them away, but what was the fun in that? Attention like this didn’t come regularly at all. Hell, it wasn’t normal for anyone to have two arrogant, handsome Slytherins fighting for their attention. And if you were honest, even just for a second, you kind of liked it.

So why not have a little fun with it?

It wasn’t like you had anything to lose, right? Besides your pride, maybe. But pride was overrated, especially when they were both so good at what they did. And maybe it was the thrill of it all—the secrecy, the danger of getting caught, or maybe the idea that you were wanted by two of the most insufferable, yet undeniably attractive, people at Hogwarts.

You didn’t know. You weren’t even sure you cared anymore.

One evening, you found yourself slipping into a quiet corridor, headed to the library for some much-needed solitude. But, of course, Heeseung was there.

“You’re awfully quick to retreat these days,” he remarked, his voice light, teasing. “Hiding from me?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off. “Hardly.”

“Then why don’t you stay and chat with me for a bit?” He stepped closer, his eyes scanning you.

Before you could even answer, he’d cupped your face in his hand, pulling you toward him. His lips met yours with an ease that made it feel like nothing had changed. His kiss was soft at first, but the pressure grew quickly, the heat of his touch igniting a familiar spark within you.

And, just like that, the resistance was gone.

A few breaths later, Heeseung pulled back, looking at you with that same, infuriatingly smug smile.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he teased, his voice low and amused. “You like this more than you want to admit.”

You opened your mouth, about to defend yourself, to argue, but before you could form the words, Heeseung leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss.

You didn’t fight it. You didn’t want to.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his robes, the feel of his body against yours sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, Heeseung guided you backward, his lips still on yours as he moved you toward the wall.

When your back hit the stone of the wall, Heeseung broke the kiss just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was hungry, but there was also something tender in the way he watched you.

"See? I knew you’d come around,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You swallowed, trying to steady your thoughts. "Sure, sure," you muttered, but even you could hear the lack of conviction in your voice.

He smiled that smile, the one that made your stomach flip. “Admit it. You like it when I’m like this.”

You should’ve pushed him away. You should’ve told him to stop, to back off, but all that came out was a small, frustrated sigh as he kissed you again, this time more insistent.

His hand suddenly gripped your thigh, lifting it effortlessly to hitch it around his hip. The movement was quick, and before you could think, you found yourself pressed even closer to him.

You should’ve pulled away, told him this wasn’t you, that you weren’t this person. But instead, you let him.

His mouth left yours for a moment, just for a moment as his lips trailed down your jaw as you gasped for air, your hands moving instinctively to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his robes like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality.

"You're not pushing me away," he murmured against your skin, his voice laced with satisfaction, like he knew exactly what you were feeling. "Might start thinking you want this."

You clenched your jaw, unwilling to admit that he might be right, as he pulled you closer, his hand sliding to your back, his lips finding the soft spot beneath your ear.

Damn him.

All you could focus on was him—his touch, the way his body moved against yours, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing in the world worth paying attention to.

You should’ve stopped. You knew you should’ve. But when his lips found yours again, slow and deep, you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away.

Then Heeseung's hand suddenly, ever so subtly, glided underneath your skirt, his touch gentle. You could feel his fingers trace the curve of your thigh, a sensation that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without breaking eye contact, you reached for his green tie, your fingers working to untie the knot. The fabric slipped from his neck, falling away with a soft rustle.

Slowly, you tugged at the collar of his shirt, pushing it aside, revealing more of his neck, and Heeseung let out a low, appreciative sound. His lips moved back to yours in a needy kiss.

And just when you thought you’d lost yourself completely, a voice—unexpected, unmistakable—cut through the haze of your thoughts.

"Really?"

You broke away from Heeseung, looking up to see Draco standing at the end of the hall, his eyes narrowed, his posture tense. He’d been watching the entire exchange, his expression a storm of emotion.

"Really!?" Draco shouted now, his voice was sharp, like a whip crack. "You think you can just—" He cut himself off, stepping forward, his eyes flicking from you to Heeseung. "Just take her like that!?"

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling your skirt rise higher as Heeseung kept you in place. You tried to ease out of his grasp, gently attempting to pull your leg down, but his hand tightened on your thigh in response, pulling you back toward him. It was like he refused to let go of you, like you were a prize he wasn’t ready to relinquish.

“Let her go, Heeseung,” Draco spat, stepping closer, his jaw clenched in frustration. His eyes darted between the two of you, and it was clear he didn’t like seeing Heeseung so close to you. “She doesn’t belong to you.”

Heeseung’s gaze remained cool, as he leaned in closer to you. "She doesn’t belong to you either," he replied back. His fingers traced the edge of your skirt, the contact sending an involuntary shiver through you. "But if she chooses to be here, with me," he added, "then that’s her choice, not yours."

Draco was visibly seething now, taking another step forward, his hand reaching out as if he could just take you from Heeseung. But before he could get any closer, Heeseung suddenly spun you around, his arm wrapping securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The movement was quick, shielding you from Draco’s view, and you were now facing Heeseung, back to Draco, as Heeseung’s hands gripped you tight, his breath warm against your ear. "You want her?" Heeseung’s voice was soft, but there was an edge to it. "You’ll have to do better than that."

You were trapped between them—caught in their struggle, their silent battle for possession. And as you stood there, something inside of you wondered how you’d gotten here, caught between two people who seemed determined to claim you, as if you were a prize in their war.

But you weren’t anyone’s to take, were you?

Before you could fully process the thought, Draco’s voice sliced through the air again, a low, mocking laugh slipping from his lips.

“You really think you can keep her to yourself, Heeseung?” Draco sneered.

And yet, Heeseung didn’t let go, didn’t back down. Instead, he kept you pressed against him, his breath still warm on your neck.

“Let her decide,” Heeseung’s voice was a growl, holding you like he wasn’t about to let go.

For a moment, everything went silent. You felt the heat of both their glares, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to move away from Heeseung’s grasp.

They had given you time to decide, but it was clear they were both impatient.

But you didn’t want any part of this. You hadn’t asked for this—any of it. All you wanted was a peaceful year, a chance to get through your classes, study, and avoid being caught up in whatever power struggle was unfolding between Heeseung and Draco. But here you were, stuck in the middle, torn between two people.

How were you supposed to choose between them?

Your heart raced, thoughts spinning in every direction. Both of them were waiting for you to make a decision, but the truth was, you didn’t want to choose at all. You didn’t want to get involved in their rivalry, didn’t want to be the reason for whatever animosity existed between them.

"I don’t want to be part of this," you muttered, frustration boiling beneath the surface as you finally spoke up, unable to keep it in any longer. "I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want to be some kind of... trophy for either of you."

But both of them merely exchanged a glance before turning their attention back to you.

"Nobody said you were a trophy," Heeseung replied.

Draco, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes, stepping closer as if he were trying to close the gap between the three of you. "No one gets to walk away, not when we’ve already made our intentions clear," he said, his voice low. "So you either pick or let me show you why i am the better choice."

Your stomach twisted as the pressure mounted, and you felt that sense of dread creeping up on you. You had no idea how to navigate this—how to choose one of them.

It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. You just wanted to survive the year, get through it without becoming a pawn in some twisted game. But as you all stood there, waiting for you to make your move, you couldn’t help but feel like there was no way out.

How could you even choose?

a/n: im gonna end it here and leave it up to you dear reader! who would to choose? personally i was never a draco girl so yeah.

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[itsgiovanna]

playing for love (chapter 1)

pairing: fem!character x mason mount

summary: injured and lost, mason mount begins his recovery with the help of adeline alderidge, a tough yet brilliant physiotherapist. but, some wounds don't heal easily, and the closer they get, the more mason realizes she might need saving just as much as he does.

notes: hey, everyone! this is the first chapter and i’m so happy to introduce you to mason & adaline's story. hope you like it! enjoy 🤍

word count: 2.8k

my masterlist

warnings: none

next: chapter 2

The locker room was buzzing with energy — voices overlapping, boots scuffing against the floor, the clap of a teammate hyping up the squad. It was the usual match routine, but to Mason, something felt off. He sat at his locker, elbows resting on his knees, staring at his feet. His stomach was tight, but not in the usual way. Normally, it was adrenaline, that restless hunger to get out on the pitch and play. This was different, it sat heavy in his chest.

Maybe it was just in his head. But it had been there for weeks now — like a weight he couldn’t lift. Since joining United, everything had felt harder. The pressure, the expectations, the constant questioning.

He already knew what people would say if he had another bad game.

“Mount struggling to find his place.”

“United’s number 7 failing to deliver.”

A hand clapped against his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts.

“You good?” Mason looked up to see Marcus Rashford standing over him, adjusting his captain’s armband. His expression wasn’t just casual concern — he was really looking at him, like he could tell something wasn’t right.

“Yeah. Just focused.” Mason forced a nod. 

“Focused, huh?” Marcus raised a brow. 

“I’m fine, mate.” Mason let out a quiet breath, shaking his head. 

“Alright. Let’s do this.” Marcus studied him for a second longer before giving him a firm pat on the back. 

The team gathered around as Ten Hag delivered his final words. “Stay compact in midfield. No sloppy passes, no hesitation. And Mason.” — his gaze locked onto him — “Be aggressive. No holding back tonight.”

Mason nodded, but the unease in his chest didn’t go away.

The first half was a battle. Manchester City were relentless, pressing high, moving the ball quickly. Mason was doing his best to keep up, but it wasn’t enough. He felt a step behind, his touches just a little off. Every mistake felt heavier, like it was adding to the weight pressing down on him.

Then, early in the second half, his moment came. A misplaced pass from City’s defense sent the ball rolling into open space. He sprinted forward, reaching for the ball — but, everything happened at once.

A body crashed into him, full force.

Rúben Dias.

Mason barely had time to think before he was sent flying. 

The pain was unbearable, his knee twisted violently before giving out completely, his body collapsing onto the grass. He gasped, his hands clutching his leg, but it was like a fire spreading through him, sharp and unrelenting. 

The noise of the crowd faded. His ears rang. The only thing he could focus on was the agony tearing through his body.

Then came the voices.

His name. Shouts for the medical team. Hands on his shoulder, his arm — steady, grounding. Rashford and Hojlund were crouched beside him, his face tight with worry.

“Mase, talk to me. You alright?” Rashford put his hand on Mason’s shoulder, but voice cut through the chaos — loud, sharp, and angry.

“What the fuck was that?”

Mason barely turned his head in time to see Rúben Dias standing a few feet away, arms raised, shouting at the referee. But he wasn’t apologizing — he was blaming him.

“He threw himself into it!” Rúben snapped, shaking his head. “That’s not on me!”

A wave of anger rolled through Mason’s teammates. Rashford was up in an instant, stepping toward Rúben. “What’s your problem?” he shot back. “He’s on the ground, mate. Have some fucking respect.”

Lisandro Martínez shoved past Rashford, glaring at Dias. “You’re not helping, Dias. Just walk away.” The referee quickly stepped between them, telling them to calm down, but Mason couldn’t focus on the argument. The paramedics were already beside him, voices low but urgent.

“How bad?” one asked.

“Looks like ligament damage. Possible tear.”

“Quick, we need to get him off now.”

Mason barely processed their words. His pulse pounded in his ears, the stadium lights too bright, the voices around him distant. The stretcher appeared beside him, and Mason barely registered the hands lifting him onto it.

This wasn’t happening.

He wasn’t supposed to go out like this. Not injured. Not like this.

As they carried him off, pain flaring with every small movement, the crowd’s noise became lower in the background. He shut his eyes, swallowing down the disappointment, the fear.

(...)

The ambulance ride was a blur of flashing lights and muffled voices. Mason lay flat on the stretcher, his body stiff, every bump in the road sending pain through his leg. His knee felt like it was on fire, a deep, throbbing ache spreading through his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe through it, but it wasn’t working.

“Hang in there, Mason. We’re almost there.” One of the paramedics hovered over him, adjusting the straps securing his leg.

“Male, twenty-six, severe knee trauma. Suspected ACL tear. Pulse stable, high-pain level.“ The other spoke into a radio, relaying updates ahead to the hospital.

ACL tear.

Mason clenched his jaw. He knew what that meant. Months out. Maybe longer.

He let out a shaky breath, his fingers gripping the edge of the stretcher. The sound of the sirens was distant, drowned out by the pounding in his head.

The ambulance doors swung open the moment they arrived at Manchester Royal Infirmary, one of the best hospitals in the city for sports injuries. Everything moved fast. Bright lights, rushed voices, the sharp scent of antiseptic.

“Took a direct hit before collapsing. Pain’s at a ten.” The paramedics wheeled him through the corridor, speaking to the medical staff waiting for them, prepared to do the scans.

The words barely registered. Mason felt lightheaded, the pain and exhaustion weighing him down. He barely reacted as they transferred him onto the hospital bed.

And then, finally, known voices.

“Mason!” His dad’s voice cut through the hallway.

Mason forced his eyes open, blinking against the brightness. His dad, Tony, was standing at the edge of the bed, his face tight with worry. His mom was beside him, arms crossed over her chest like she was physically holding herself together.

“We came as soon as we got the call.” Tony said, his voice steady, but Mason could see the concern behind his eyes.

“They think it’s my ACL.” Mason swallowed hard and the words felt heavy on his tongue. “I don’t know how bad.” Before they could say more, the doctor stepped in, holding a clipboard.

“Mason, we’ve reviewed your scans.” he said, flipping through the papers. “It’s a complete ACL tear.” He met Mason’s eyes. “You’ll need surgery.”

“Dear, God." his mom gasped. "And, the recovery?"

"It'll take at least six to eight months.” the doctor responded.

Silence.

Mason’s chest tightened. Six to eight months.

His season was over. His career, put on hold.

“We’ll get through this.” His dad pressed a firm hand on his shoulder.

Mason exhaled, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t go away. The pain in his knee was unbearable, but right now, the pain in his heart was worse. Suddenly, the disappointment of letting down, the fans, his teammates and his family was greater than anything else.

(…)

The sterile smell of the hospital still clung to the air, heavy and cold. Mason lay on the bed, staring up at the white ceiling, his mind swirling with frustration. The pain from his knee was a constant reminder of everything he’d lost in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t just the injury. It was the weight of the season ahead — the expectations he was expected to carry, the doubts creeping in after another setback. His career, his future, all of it felt uncertain now. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not like this.

The door opened with a soft creak, and the nurse entered, her steps light but confident. She had black hair and a name tag reading "Charlotte" clipped to her uniform. She smiled as she walked toward him, her eyes scanning the room before landing on Mason.

“Mr. Mount.” she said, her voice sweet, but with a touch of something more. “How are you feeling?”

“Same as before.” Mason barely looked at her, keeping his gaze on the ceiling.

Charlotte moved closer to adjust his IV, her touch is gentle, but there was something about it that felt a little too warm. Her fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, and as she finished, she smiled.

“I bet you didn’t expect your night to go like this. Right?” she said, her voice softer, a little flirtatious, though Mason wasn’t interested.

He could tell she was trying, but he wasn’t in the mood to entertain anyone. Not right now.

“I’ve had better.” he replied flatly, still not looking at her. She laughed lightly, and Mason couldn’t help but feel like she was laying it on thick.

“You’re not gonna stay mad at me, are you?” she said, leaning in just a little, her words dripping with intent.

“Not mad. Just not in the mood.” He shifted uncomfortably, finally meeting her gaze, though it was more to put an end to the exchange than anything else.

She raised an eyebrow, her smile a little less subtle this time. “Well, if you need anything, I’m just down the hall.” she said, lingering for a moment longer before stepping back, lingering on him as she made her exit.

Mason couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. The last thing he needed was someone flirting with him when he could barely get a grip on his own thoughts. After a few minutes, the door opened again, and this time, it was his sister, Jaz, and her husband, Sam. Jaz had that look on her face — the one that always came when she knew something wasn’t right, her worry barely hidden beneath a smile as she walked toward him.

“Mase.” she said softly, pulling up a chair next to his bed. “How’re you holding up?”

Mason turned his head toward her, but his expression remained guarded.

“Just another day.” he replied, though it didn’t sound convincing even to him.

Jaz sat down next to him, her eyes full of concern as she studied him. Her hand reached out, brushing his. “I know this has been tough on you.” she said quietly. “I can see it, Mase. I know what leaving Chelsea did to you... and now this.” Her voice cracked a little, but she quickly recovered, squeezing his hand. Mason didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t in the mood to explain. He wasn’t in the mood for pity.

“It’s fine. I’ll get over it.” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure he believed it himself.

Jaz didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, she leaned in, her voice low and gentle.

“You don’t have to be fine, Mase. Not with me. Not with Sam. We’re here. Always.”

“You know we’ve got your back. Whatever happens.” Sam, standing at the door with his arms crossed, nodded in agreement.

Mason felt a surge of gratitude for them, but it was mixed with anger. He didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want them to see him like this. He hated feeling weak. But Jaz wasn’t having it. She pulled him into a tight hug, resting her cheek against his.

“I know things haven’t been easy for you.” she whispered. “Leaving Chelsea... coming to Manchester. It’s a big change. But you’ve always been strong. You’ll get through this. I know you will.”

For a moment, Mason didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to being this vulnerable, especially not with his sister, but the warmth of her embrace made him realize how much he needed this. How much he needed them.

He hugged her back, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I just... I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t know if I can keep going.”

Jaz pulled back slightly, her eyes soft with understanding.

“Mase, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But don’t give up on yourself.” The words hung in the air, and Mason found himself lost in them, his walls starting to crumble a little.

(...)

Adeline stood in the kitchen, wiping down the countertops as the evening light dimmed outside. The small flat in the heart of Manchester felt quiet, the kind of peaceful silence that only settled in after Lilith had gone to bed. The last few hours had been spent in the usual routine — dinner, playtime, bedtime stories.

Adeline couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Lilith was the light of her life, the reason she kept going even on the toughest days.

She had fought for Lilith before she was even born, through sleepless nights filled with doubt, through the suffocating fear of wondering how she would do it alone. The father had never been in the picture — he hadn’t wanted to be — and she had long stopped caring. What she had gained was far greater than what she had lost.

Lilith was her heart walking outside her body.

Every sacrifice, every long shift, every moment of exhaustion was worth it.

And it wasn’t just about being a mother. She loved her job, too.

Physiotherapy wasn’t just a career — it was something she was passionate about, something she had worked relentlessly for. Helping people heal, watching them rebuild their strength, seeing them step back into the life they thought they’d lost — it was fulfilling in a way nothing else was.

She had climbed her way up, studying late into the night after putting Lilith to bed, taking extra certifications while balancing work and motherhood. It hadn’t been easy. But she was good at what she did.

She remembered the early days of motherhood, when everything had felt so uncertain. There was a time when she had been terrified — terrified of raising Lilith on her own, terrified of how hard it would be. But there was also a moment, after months of sleepless nights and endless worry, when she’d found the strength to tell herself, don’t give up on yourself. She had whispered those words like a promise, a way to keep her head above water.

Now, years later, she repeated that phrase whenever things got tough. It wasn’t easy, but she had made a life for herself and for Lilith, one small step at a time.

“Mum? Mum!” Her thoughts were interrupted by a small voice from the hallway when Lilith called, her little voice muffled from her bedroom. “Mum, I can’t sleep.”

Adeline dried her hands quickly and moved toward the door, calling out gently, “I’m coming, Lily.”

Lilith was curled up in her bed, clutching her stuffed bunny. “I had a bad dream.” she mumbled, holding out her arms.

Adeline bent down to scoop her daughter up, cradling her in her arms. “What happened, darling?” she asked, brushing a lock of hair from Lilith’s forehead.

“I dreamed the bunny got lost.” she said softly. “Can we keep him close?”

“Of course, my love.” Adeline smiled and settled them both under the covers, letting Lilith snuggle into her arms. “He’s safe now, I promise. No one’s taking him.”

As she laid there, her phone buzzed from the kitchen counter, the vibration loud in the quiet room. Adeline’s eyes fluttered open, and she reluctantly got herself away from Lilith, tucking the blanket around her daughter before heading back to the kitchen.

She frowned when she saw the name of your boss, Dr. Hearst, on the screen. It was nearly 11 p.m. What could he want this late?

“Dr. Hearst?” She answered quickly.

“Adeline, I’ve got an opportunity for you. A big one.” His voice came through steady, direct.

She straightened. “I’m listening.”

“Mason Mount came in tonight. Complete ACL tear. Manchester United is assembling a team to handle his recovery, and they need the best physiotherapist for the job.” Adeline was not a football enthusiast, she’s heard his name a few times, but that’s it.

“And… you’re saying that’s me?”

“Yes. You’re the most qualified in our department, especially with your postgrad in sports injuries. I vouched for you.”

“I appreciate that, but-” Adeline hesitated, gripping the edge of the counter.

“I know what you’re thinking.” he cut in. “But, listen. They’re offering serious money. More than double your salary. This isn’t just about your career, Adeline. This is about securing a future — for you and Lilith.”

Lilith.

Adeline’s gaze flickered toward the closed bedroom door, where her daughter was sleeping soundly, unaware of the weight pressing on her mother’s shoulders.

“When do they need an answer?” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair.

“Tomorrow morning. We’re finalizing the medical team, If you want in, be at the hospital by eight.”

A beat of silence passed.

Adeline swallowed. “Alright. I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think too long.” Dr. Hearst warned. “This is the kind of chance that doesn’t come twice.”

She ended the call and stood there for a moment, staring at her phone.

Footballers. She’d heard enough stories from her colleagues — entitled, arrogant, difficult to work with. But…

She glanced at Lilith’s door again.

This wasn’t just about her. This was about her daughter’s future.

And Adeline always put Lilith first.

(...)