#I will not admit how long I have been working on this it's been way to long

[coldestduointhenation]

Pressure - Chapter 1

wnba!Paige x wnba!Azzi

Themes: exes-to-lovers, angst

Warnings: language (I think that's it)

Synopsis: Four years after a messy fallout, Azzi gets traded to the Dallas Wings. On the same team for the first time after four years of no contact, they have to navigate what it's like to exist in the same space again. One of them is more willing to reconcile than the other.

A/N: Been working on this for a while. Chapter 2 is already in the works. I promise it's gonna get really good. Let me know what you thinkkk

Word count: 8.6k

Present Day – 2029 Dallas, Texas

Paige

Paige thought it was a prank.

Not a funny one. She sure as hell wasn’t laughing. But still, it had to be a sick joke. Because what twisted fate of the universe could possibly lead to her being on the same team as Azzi Fudd? The ex-love-of-her-life/ex-best-friend who left a hole in her a long time ago.

“You’re joking, right?” Paige said flatly, staring holes through Curt, the Wings’ GM, from across his desk.

Curt just grinned like this was the best thing that had happened to him all year. “I know, right? I’m still trying to believe it myself. I can’t believe they went for it. I mean, how stupid could you be to reunite the best backcourt in the nation?” Curt cackled.

Paige dropped her head into her hands. When she looked back up, he was furrowing his brows.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be excited about this.” Curt pushed his chair back a little bit to get a better look at Paige and folded his arms across his chest.

Still dazed, Paige nodded the best she could. “Yeah, yeah. This is really great for the team.”

Curt hummed. “I thought you two used to be best friends or something.”

Or something, Paige thought to herself. She nodded her head slowly. Like it hurt to admit. “Yeah… used to be,” she mumbled.

“Well,” Curt said, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his desk. “There’s no bad blood or anything, right?”

“No,” she said flatly.

Only a half-lie. Azzi Fudd destroyed Paige in a way she didn’t know was possible all those years ago, yet somewhere inside, Paige knew that Azzi was still that gravitational pull she’d never be able to escape. A flame that burned too pretty but burned her every time she tried to touch it. Part of her hated Azzi for that. The rest of her knew she didn’t actually hate Azzi. She never could. 

She excused herself from Curt’s office at the first opportunity she got and headed straight for the practice court, where it was empty and quiet and hers. To shoot. And think.

One shot at a time. Release. Swish. Reset.

Again. Again. Again.

Paige tried to think forward. About how she was well on her way to her third MVP title in a row. About how Dallas was about to go back-to-back for the first time ever. About how she was getting older and needed to make these last seasons of her prime count.

But no matter how hard Paige tried to stay present, her brain kept dragging her back.

Back to the dorms. Back to late-night film sessions. Back to hotel rooms with one bed, one secret, and one pair of hands that always knew where to touch her.

Back to Azzi.

Azzi, who was her everything, could match her fire and feed it at the same time, but never let Paige in all the way.

And now, somehow, Azzi was coming to Dallas. 

Paige could hardly wrap her head around it. The thought made her chest ache in a way that felt old and familiar and fresh all at once. In a way that reminded Paige of what’s hers.

But Azzi wasn’t hers. She kept forgetting that. 

Someone else was now. Zoey.

Zoey wasn’t the first since Azzi, but she was the first to actually make Paige slow down. Not just some pretty face for headlines and good lighting. Zoey had a mind of her own, a mouth that didn’t take shit, and a kind of patience Paige didn’t realize she needed until it was offered.

Paige didn’t do girlfriends in the traditional sense. She was too busy, and they were too suffocating. Instead, she hooked up with pretty women until the high wore off and routine took over. And if Paige liked them enough, they’d go on dates, let themselves get caught by a fan, maybe go on vacation.

But locking it down? Making it official? Paige never got that far. Never wanted to.

With Zoey… she was getting there. Not all the way, but closer than she’d been with anyone since Azzi.

And now Azzi was moving to the same city. Joining the same team. Living on the same block. Paige didn’t know that part yet.

Not until the next day, when she was on her morning run.

The sun was still low enough for the buildings to cover the street with their shadows. It was too early for most of the city. But not for Paige. For her, it was the only time when things were quiet. Slow.

She was rounding the corner near her building when she saw someone standing by the glass doors of the leasing office. From behind, the figure looked familiar enough to slow her steps.

Thick, curly hair pulled back in a loose, low bun. Oversized sweatshirt. Gray leggings. That specific posture. Too casual to be calculated, but somehow always looking like it was.

Paige’s stomach dipped. Her pace faltered.

No fucking way.

The girl turned slightly, shifting her weight onto one hip as she glanced down at her phone. Paige’s heart climbed into her throat.

It was her.

Azzi.

Just… standing there outside her building. Like it was normal. Like it hadn’t been years. Like she hadn’t left Paige stuck in some loop she could never fully escape.

-----------------------------------

12 years ago – 2017 USA U16 Basketball Camp, Colorado Springs

Paige wasn’t scared. Just aware. Of all the talent in the room. Of who the coaches were paying attention to. Of the sheer intensity of it all. 

She had a great morning. Her shots fell, her footwork was there, her timing on defense was close to perfect. There was no reason to stress. She played her game and played it well.

Paige sat on the bench, one leg pulled up, Gatorade bottle balanced on her knee, sweat still drying on her neck. She’d just finished scrimmaging and was catching her breath while the next group rotated in.

Next to her, Aliyah Boston leaned back on her hands, eyes scanning the floor. “Damn. It’s a tight race this year.”

Paige looked around. She was still riding the edge of that post-game high. Loose muscles, steady heart, confidence simmering under her skin. She was about to agree with Aliyah when something caught her eye.

Someone.

Far end of the court. Red jersey, black shorts. Braided bun. The youngest one on the floor by at least a year. Moving like she didn’t know it. Or didn’t care.

Then she caught a pass. And everything else just… dropped out. Paige didn’t even blink. Couldn’t. Because the girl didn’t hesitate. Didn’t gather. Just rose and released like muscle memory. Like it wasn’t even a choice.

Net.

Paige straightened. Just a little. “Who is that?” she asked without looking away.

Aaliyah followed her gaze. “That’s Azzi Fudd.”

Paige blinked once. “That’s Azzi Fudd?”

“Yeah. You heard of her?”

She had. The name was familiar. The highlights, the chatter, the headlines. Something about a phenom. A prodigy. One of those kids who had a clear trajectory. Paige had seen a clip or two. Nothing like this.

Because this? This was fucking art. 

Azzi didn’t just play basketball. She moved through it. Like the game bent around her, not the other way around. There was something impossibly smooth about the way she played. Like she already knew what was going to happen three steps ahead. Like the ball just listened to her.

Paige watched her catch another pass. Watched her pivot, fake, draw two defenders, slip it to the post for the easiest bucket of the day. She didn’t even celebrate. Just turned and jogged back like it was routine.

Paige’s throat went dry. Because it wasn’t just the skill. It was everything else. The way Azzi’s face barely changed, calm like a storm with nowhere to go. The way her shoulders stayed relaxed even when the pressure was high. The way she didn’t seem interested in being liked, or noticed. She just was. Steady. Composed. Sharp. She carried herself like someone who already knew what kind of problem she was about to be.

Something nagged at the corner of Paige’s mind. Like Azzi was about to be her problem. Not the kind of problem that would beat her out for a spot on the roster. The kind that would weave itself into her brain like a parasite and sit there like a rock. 

Paige couldn’t stop watching. She leaned forward. Both feet on the ground now, Gatorade bottle forgotten, eyes wide.

Azzi turned on her heel and jogged back. Her eyes scanned the sideline just once. Just briefly. And Paige swore, for half a second, those eyes landed on her.

She looked away too fast. Heat rising in her cheeks. Something flickering in her chest. She wasn’t sure what to call it yet. All she knew was that she’d never seen anything—anyone—like that.

And she was already in trouble.

**************************

The party wasn’t really for them. Technically, it was for the adults. Coaches, scouts, sponsors, the kind of people who wore suits and passed around business cards like it was currency. But the girls who made the team were invited too. Well, told to come. Told to be on their best behavior, smile if someone important started talking to them, and not to touch the champagne.

Paige stuck close to Aliyah. It was less intimidating that way. Aliyah always had something to say and never looked like she was trying too hard, even in a room full of people who would probably own half the league one day.

The ballroom lights were low and gold, the kind that made everything feel fancier than it was. There were high-top tables and white linen napkins and a string quartet playing a pop song Paige couldn’t quite place.

“Tell me again why we’re here?” Paige asked, swirling her lemonade around in the glass.

Aliyah grinned. “So they can smile at us and say they knew us before the shoe deals.”

Paige snorted. “Right.”

Her eyes drifted, naturally, toward the far side of the room. Toward her.

Azzi was talking to a group of adults. Two women in blazers and a man holding a clipboard. She stood with her hands folded neatly in front of her, posture straight, nodding along as someone spoke. Her eyes flicked up occasionally, steady, unreadable.

Paige watched the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The way she tilted her head when she was listening. The small smile she gave when someone cracked a joke. Polite, but detached.

She looked… grown. Too composed for someone her age. Too calculated. Like she’d been doing this for years already and wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

“God,” Paige muttered, almost to herself.

Aliyah followed her gaze. “You’re still staring at her?”

“I’m not—” Paige sighed. “I just think she’s… interesting.”

Aliyah smirked. “Sure.”

Azzi’s group started to split up, one of the women checking her watch and moving toward the bar. The man peeled off in another direction. Azzi stayed where she was, alone now, adjusting the strap of her dress like it had been bothering her all night.

This was her chance. Paige set her glass down and took a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Be right back.”

She crossed the room like she was walking out on a wire, every step just a little more careful than the one before it.

Azzi didn’t look up until Paige was already in front of her.

“It’s Azzi, right?” Paige said like she wasn’t sure. As if she wasn’t the surest she’d ever been. 

Azzi let out a soft chuckle. “You already knew that.”

Paige couldn’t stop the blood rushing to her cheeks. “Well, I’m Paige—“

“I know who you are, Paige,” Azzi cut her off. 

Paige blinked. “You do?”

Azzi looked her over. Not just her face. All of her. Eyes, posture, the way she was standing too straight like she’d rehearsed the approach.

“I know everyone,” Azzi said, voice even.

“Oh. Right.” Paige fumbled for a second. “You played really well today. You were incredible.”

Azzi shrugged, calm as ever. “Not my best performance.”

Paige shook her head. “Coulda fooled me. I mean, you’re perfect.” The word landed heavier than she meant it to. She felt it the second it hung there.

Azzi cocked an eyebrow.

“I mean—your game is perfect,” Paige corrected quickly. “You’re like the perfect basketball player.”

Azzi didn’t let her off the hook. Her lips curled into a slow, amused smirk. “I make you nervous or something, Bueckers?”

“What? No, I just—I guess I’m just awkward.”

Azzi took a slow sip from her water. Shook her head slightly. “No, you’re not. Not on the court. Not talking to any of these other people.”

Paige met her eyes. “Then I guess you’re different.”

Azzi’s smile widened, just a little. “I know.”

There was a beat. One of those in-between silences that wasn’t awkward, but felt charged. Paige shifted her weight, looking around like she needed somewhere to ground herself.

Azzi tilted her head. “So. What’d you come over here to say?”

Paige blinked. “What?”

Azzi shrugged. “I assume you didn’t cross the room just to tell me I’m a good player.”

Paige felt her throat tighten. “No. I mean—yeah. You know, we’re gonna have to play together, so I wanted to say hi and…” Her voice trailed off like she didn’t plan on saying the last part out loud. 

Azzi was still watching her. Eyes a little harder now. Like she wasn’t going to let Paige off the hook. “And?”

Paige had to mean it. So she did. She felt her pulse in her ears. “And… I don’t know. I think you’re…” Paige hesitated, then pushed it out. “Kind of impossible to ignore.”

Azzi studied her. Really studied her. Like she was trying to decide what to do with what she’d just been handed. Her lips pulled into a smirk. “How so?”

Paige swallowed. Thought about giving her some canned answer. Something light. Surface-level. But the look Azzi was giving her—calm and curious, like she already knew—made that impossible.

So Paige just… said it.

“It’s like,” she started, then paused, eyes flicking down for half a second before finding Azzi’s again, “you already know how everything ends.”

Azzi didn’t react right away.

Paige tried not to shrink under her own words. “You move like you have everyone where you want them. Like you’re just waiting for them to catch up.”

Her voice was softer now. Not shy. Just real. “It’s not about your game. I mean—it is. But it’s also not. It’s… you. The way you carry yourself. Honestly… I can’t stop staring.” 

The way Azzi was staring at her made something burn inside Paige. 

“You just met me,” Azzi said, voice curious. “Why would you say that?”

Paige swallowed. Shrugged. “Because I wanted you to know.”

That was the only answer she could come up with. Because she didn’t know why she would say that. Azzi was right. She had just met her. So, why be so bold? Paige chalked it up to the fact that it wasn’t like she saw this girl every day.

Azzi tilted her head and softened her gaze. Like she was considering something. Then a smirk. A real one this time. Like Azzi had just figured something out and was keeping it for later. She stepped back slowly, eyes never leaving Paige’s. Then she turned.

Paige called after her. “Guess I’ll see you around?”

Azzi didn’t look back. Just kept walking.

“You will,” she said over her shoulder.

And she did. God, she saw Azzi everywhere. 

--------------------------------------------

Present Day

Azzi didn’t notice Paige right away, too focused on the screen in her hand. But then her head lifted, and those eyes–sharp, unreadable, familiar in a way that made Paige's chest pull tight—landed on her.

For a beat, they just stared at each other.

Azzi’s expression shifted first, mouth tugging into the smallest smile. Like this was funny. Like she knew exactly what kind of chaos she was walking back into.

Paige cursed quietly under her breath. It was her building. It wasn’t like she could turn around and go somewhere else.

“Paige,” Azzi said softly.

Paige swallowed as she came to a stop a few feet away. “You lost?”

Azzi pointed up at the building. “Touring apartments.”

Paige raised a brow, wiping sweat from her forehead with the hem of her shirt. “In this building?”

Azzi shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Yeah, I’ve got a few planned today before… practice.”

It was weird. The word practice. Because all of a sudden, that meant the same thing to both of them.

Paige didn’t say anything. She just kept looking at her. Trying to take her in and shut her out all at once.

Azzi’s eyes flicked over her, then back up. “You look good,” she said, like she wasn’t ripping Paige open with three simple words.

Paige nodded once. “You, too.”

The air between them thickened. Paige popped her knuckles to distract herself from the fact that even after all these years, Azzi could still make something coil tightly in her chest.

Paige cleared her throat. “You know this is my building, right?”

Azzi smirked. “The possibility crossed my mind that one of these buildings was yours. I just didn’t think I’d get it right on the first try.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “So what? You gonna move in down the hall from me?”

Azzi stepped forward, holding her grin. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Paige looked away and scoffed. “Don’t start,” she said, shaking her head without looking at Azzi. 

Azzi's smirk softened into something of innocence. She always played that so well. Paige remembered. “I’m not starting anything.”

“So what are you doing?” Paige said with no hesitation, a little snappier than she intended.

Azzi flinched a little bit like she wasn’t expecting Paige to react like that, but never dropped her smile. “I’m here to play ball.”

Paige sighed. “You could do that anywhere.”

“I just got here. Why are you so pressed already?” Azzi asked, sounding a little annoyed.

“I am not pressed,” Paige said firmly as she took a step forward. They were close enough to reach out and touch each other now. 

“Right, because you just look at everyone like that.”

Azzi stepped forward slightly, like she was testing the air. Not close enough to be inappropriate, but close enough that Paige’s breath caught anyway. Their eyes were locked. Like neither of them could look away.

“I meant what I said,” Azzi murmured, tone dipping lower now. “You really do look good.” Her eyes traced back down Paige’s body and back up.

Paige broke their gaze. “I’ll see you later,” she said as she turned and headed for the doors of her building.

By the time Paige got back upstairs, her shirt was clinging to her skin with sweat that had nothing to do with the run. Her hands were still shaking as she fumbled her key into the lock. 

Okay, so maybe there was a problem.

Paige wanted to believe she was over it. She wanted to be mature enough and grown enough to say that was a different time with a different Paige. And a week ago, maybe she was. But as soon as Azzi said her name, something in her shifted. She felt the creep of that Paige. 

Azzi’s Paige.

And dear God, she was not coming out without a fight. 

This Paige stepped into her apartment quietly and pressed her forehead against the door.

She told Curt this wasn’t going to be a problem. She prayed that this wasn’t going to be, but somewhere inside, she knew Azzi could never be something to sweep under the rug.

No one gave her any warning. No one gave her the chance to prepare herself for the love of her life to come barrelling through everything she built without her. Everything she built to spite her. 

“P?”

Paige jumped. She forgot that Zoey was sleeping in her bed during all this. 

She hadn’t told Zoey about the trade yesterday. Didn’t want to. Didn’t know how. She knew Zoey knew who Azzi was. Everyone did. Best friends in college, according to the internet, minus a handful of particularly observant fans who no one paid any mind to. Paige never filled in the gaps. Never wanted to open that door. 

With all of the energy Paige had left, she pushed off the door and made her way to her bedroom. Zoey was propped up on one arm, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with the other.

“How was your run?” Zoey asked groggily. 

Paige didn’t meet her eye. Couldn’t. “Uh, it was good. Yeah, it was good.”

Zoey looked at her like she could tell there was more. But she didn’t press. Never did. Paige always appreciated that.

Paige stepped forward to the edge of the bed. Zoey sat up on her knees and shuffled to her. She grabbed Paige’s shirt and pulled her closer. “Did you use up all your energy, or are you gonna come back to bed and get another workout in?”

Before Paige could answer, Zoey placed a kiss right under her earlobe. 

Paige tried to lean into it. Give Zoey what she wanted. What she deserved. But when she closed her eyes, all she saw was her dorm room. And a random hotel room. And the training room that one time. Azzi’s skin under her hands and her name in Azzi’s mouth like honey.

“Zo,” Paige said, gently removing her hands and taking a step back. 

Zoey searched her face. “What’s wrong?”

Paige ran a hand over her hair. “Nothing,” she said a little too quick. “I’m just not feeling it right now. I want a shower.”

Zoey nodded like she didn’t understand, but that was okay. “You go do that, and I’ll make your breakfast before I have to get to the studio.” She planted a kiss on Paige’s cheek like an apology Paige hadn’t earned. 

Paige flashed her a smile back, even though she could tell it was too forced. She turned and headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

In the mirror, her reflection stared back. Eyes red, lips parted like she’d just been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Maybe she had.

She stripped and stepped into a shower so hot it stung. Pressed her forehead to the tile and squeezed her eyes shut until she saw stars. She let the scalding water fall over her face, her back, her hair. Like if she scrubbed and rinsed hard enough, the unsettling feeling that clinged to her skin might go away.

It shouldn’t hurt anymore. Azzi shouldn’t get this close, not after everything Paige did to scrape her out like rot.

But Paige knew herself better than anyone. She knew exactly how breakable she still was when it came to Azzi Fudd. How she’d spent four years pretending there was no part of her that would always belong to someone who never asked permission to take it.

The water couldn’t wash that part away. She pressed her palms harder to the wall, chest heaving, every muscle locked tight so she wouldn’t say it out loud.

Don’t let her ruin you again.

It sounded pathetic, even in her head. But she said it anyway. Again. Again. Again.

Azzi

Azzi hadn’t really come to terms with it until she saw her. 

Not when her agent called to tell her about a deal in the works. Not when the Mystics’ GM pulled her in to confirm it. Not even when she stepped off the plane. 

It was only when her heart stopped beating at eight in the morning. There was only one person who could ever have that effect on her. And there she was.

Paige. Drenched with sweat and stunning. She almost looked like nothing had changed. She looked just like how she did when they were still everything to each other. But there was something in her face. Azzi couldn’t quite place it. She just seemed… colder. More guarded. As if she weren’t interested in jumping right back into old times. 

Azzi didn’t go to Dallas for Paige. It’s not like she orchestrated the trade herself. She didn’t have a choice. But she would be lying if she said Paige wasn’t the first thing her mind went to when she heard about the move.

Azzi didn’t care that she was about to be on the same side as the best player in the league. Nor did she care that she had just upended her life and moved halfway across the country. All she really cared about was if Paige would still look at her like she used to. 

She didn’t.

It wasn’t a look of hate. That, Azzi could’ve handled. Hate meant passion. It meant there were still feelings there. Good or bad.

But the look Paige gave her was worse. Empty. Distant. Cordial. Like she wasn’t going to let Azzi back through that door.

Azzi would be damned if she didn’t make sure it was locked for good.

So, she kept it light. Made a couple of jokes. Flirted a little bit. Nothing crazy. Just enough to stir the air between them. 

Azzi didn’t expect it to work. Not really. But after Paige looked away when she made that comment about moving in down the hall, she caught it. 

Paige’s face flickered. It was fast. The tiniest tug at the corner of her lips. The faintest glint in her eyes. 

But Azzi saw it. She always did. She knew that expression like the back of her hand. And it was all she needed to know that the door wasn’t locked like Paige would want her to believe. And that was dangerous. 

Because Azzi wasn’t here to pick a fight or to stir up old drama or try to win someone back who didn’t want to be. But if the wall Paige built had a crack big enough for Azzi to slip through, Azzi was going to find it.

She didn’t care how cold Paige wanted to act. She didn’t care how much distance she tried to put between them. Because Paige still felt something. Azzi saw it.

And if Paige thought she could stare her down with those flat eyes and polite words to make Azzi forget what they were?

She had another thing coming.

Azzi tried to pay attention to her tour. She tried to listen to the building manager, who was rambling about new carpeting and granite countertops. But all Azzi could think about was Paige. On those new carpets. On that countertop. Sweaty and breathless and unashamed.

Out of respect and out of fear of taking it too far too soon, Azzi didn’t sign the lease for Paige’s building. Instead, she went with one just as nice, less than a block away. Maybe down the hall was too much, but down the street was excusable. Dallas is only so big. 

As soon as she got her key, she hurried outside to her Uber, stressing about getting to practice on time. She was staring out the window when her phone buzzed in her lap. 

A call from Caroline, who Azzi still talked to regularly. She “kept her in the divorce” according to Carol. Unlike KK and Ice, who Azzi also still talked to here and there, but it was never the same. She answered Caroline without hesitating, pressing the phone to her ear, bracing for what she knew Carol was going to say.

“Hey, Azzi,” she said gently, like she was trying to feel out how this conversation was going to go.

“Hey, Car,” Azzi said.

Caroline paused. “So… did you… are you… in Dallas?”

Azzi could tell Caroline didn’t want to say it. She sighed. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Oh,” Caroline said, stunned. “And when do you see… she who shall not be named?”

Azzi paused and considered how much she should share. “I kind of already did.”

“What?” Caroline exclaimed. “So let me get this straight. Your flight got in at 11 last night, it’s like 10 AM now, you haven’t been to the facilities yet… but you still managed to see Paige?”

Azzi tilted her head. “Well, when you put it like that, it almost sounds like I stalked her.”

“Did you?” Caroline asked.

Azzi rolled her eyes, knowing the thought crossed her mind at least a few times over the last couple of days. “No, I did not stalk her. I ran into her a couple of hours ago while I was touring apartments.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “Azzi, please tell me you are not moving into the same building as Paige.”

Azzi scoffed at the lack of trust her friend had in her. “Car, I’m not stupid. I didn’t even end up touring that one.”

She could hear Caroline breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

“I went with one right down the street instead,” Azzi said casually.

Caroline groaned. “Jesus Christ, Az. Now that might be a little stalkery. Do I need to be worried about you?”

Azzi sighed. “I mean… no. I swear I don’t have an agenda.”

Caroline was quick to call her out. “Bullshit. Azzi Fudd always has an agenda.”

Azzi bit her lip. “Okay, maybe when I saw her earlier, she wasn’t very friendly, so maybe I tried to get under her skin a little bit.”

There’s a deep breath on the other end. “What do you mean ‘get under her skin’?”

“I flirted. Just a little bit.”

Caroline sighed. The kind disappointed parents do when their kid does something stupid. “This is not going to end well. For either of you.”

“You should’ve seen her. All jaded and closed off. She was acting like I was a stranger,” Azzi said with a little more passion than she intended. 

Caroline paused. “Can you blame her?” she asked gently. “I’m not saying the fallout was either of y’all’s fault, but I know it was heavy. For both of you.”

“Still is,” Azzi added.

“I know.”

“I just wanted to know where we stood,” Azzi said honestly.

“And where do you stand?” Caroline asked.

Azzi took her time to think. “Right where we left it.”

As the Uber pulled up to the front of the gym, Azzi thanked Caroline for calling and hung up. She stepped out of the car and took a second. Just long enough to gather herself before walking into the storm that only she and Paige could feel.

Azzi didn’t get nervous about basketball. She never had. But walking into that gym? Paige’s gym? It was a different kind of nerves. The kind that have nothing to do with performance and everything to do with emotions. 

She took a deep breath, adjusted her face to hide the buzzing under her skin, and pushed open the doors.

Azzi got her key card and directions to the locker room from the lady at the front desk, and started the walk of shame. That’s what it felt like at least. Like crawling back to something she swore off so long ago. Walking right back into her own imminent destruction. If she had anything to say about it, it would be Paige’s too. 

And maybe that was selfish of her. To do everything in her power to reel Paige back in, knowing how it ended the first time around. But somewhere inside, Azzi didn’t care. Because she knew Paige was missing it. Missing her. And if she wasn’t, if Paige had really sealed up that part of herself… Azzi didn’t really want to think about that. 

The locker room was already loud and boisterous. There were two TikToks being filmed on opposite sides of the room, three different conversations being had in the same group, and one silent, stoic blonde point guard lacing up her shoes on the bench at her locker. 

Paige didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge Azzi in any way. Not that Azzi should be surprised. She made it clear she wasn’t interested in falling back into anything resembling what they were before. 

“Oh my god, look who it is!” a familiar voice called out in an annoyingly high-pitched tone.

Azzi’s gaze shifted from Paige to right next to her. It was KK Arnold with the biggest grin on her face.

“It’s Azzi Fudd!” KK said. 

Azzi smiled. “Hey, KK.” They pulled each other into a deep hug. The kind that says I missed you. 

KK pulled away first. “Okay, so boom. This is the locker room,” KK said, gesturing to the whole room. “I’m sure you know of all your teammates already, but just in case, that’s Dijonai, Lyss, Maddy…”

She tried to pay attention to KK going around the room listing off her new teammates, but Azzi’s mind drifted with her gaze. Back to Paige. There’s that same damn pull.

“... Cameron, Sydney, and–” She stopped herself when she landed on Paige. Almost said her name like she was just another teammate. Her tone dropped. “Well, you know her.” 

Understatement of the year. Because Azzi didn’t just know Paige. She memorized her. Every expression. Every mood. Every scar, visible and not. She could pick Paige’s laugh out of a crowded gym. Could still hear it when she wasn’t trying not to.

“Look,” KK said in a more serious tone. “I don’t know whose idea it was, but that’s your locker right there.” She pointed at the empty space right next to Paige’s.

Azzi laughed to herself. Of course. She looked at KK. “It’s really good to see you, KK. I’ve missed you,” she said with all sincerity.

KK returned the smile and put a hand on Azzi’s shoulder. “It’s good to have my parents back together.”

Azzi raised her eyebrows.

“I mean–” KK stumbled. “Not like back together together. But like, back together in the same place. You know what I mean. Let me just shut up.” She jogged back to her own locker and left Azzi alone. 

She took her time settling in. Dropped her bag a little too loud. Peeled off her hoodie like she didn’t know Paige could see every motion in her periphery. Unlaced her sneakers slower than necessary. She wasn’t trying to be dramatic. Not really. But if Paige was going to act like she wasn’t there, Azzi was going to make damn sure she felt her.

She didn’t say anything at first. Neither did Paige.

The silence between them wasn’t quiet. It was the loudest thing in the room. The kind of silence that’s not absence, but pressure. Weight. Azzi could feel it in her jaw, in her hands, in her chest. It itched at her skin.

She leaned forward to tie her shoes, catching Paige’s posture from the corner of her eye. Tight, shoulders high, back rigid. Tense. Good.

“Not gonna say hi?” Azzi asked without looking at her.

Paige exhaled sharply through her nostrils. “Hi,” she said dryly. 

Azzi sat up, rolled her neck out once, then tilted her head toward her. “It’s that bad, huh?”

Nothing.

Azzi smirked, even though it kind of hurt. “You’re really doing that?”

Paige kept her gaze fixed across the locker room, voice low and even. “Doing what?”

Azzi raised both brows. “This thing where you act like we’ve never met.”

“We haven’t,” Paige said plainly. “Not this version of us.”

Azzi blinked. Okay. That one kind of stung. She laughed under her breath. “Damn. You always this welcoming to new teammates?”

Paige finally turned, just a little. Just enough to meet her eye. “Only the ones who know better.”

Azzi’s chest tightened, but she didn’t let it show. She refused to. “So, what? We’re just gonna be civil and awkward for the rest of the season?”

“I’m gonna hoop,” Paige said. “You do whatever you want.”

Azzi scoffed. “You know, you could be nice. Make this easy for both of us.”

“I don’t owe you easy.”

That one hit. Hard. Paige didn’t even say it with heat. It was calm, too calm. But it landed like a punch. Azzi looked at her for a second, just watched her, like maybe she could still find the Paige she used to know under all that armor.

Then the coach called for them to head to the court. Azzi grabbed her water bottle and stood. Paige moved like she didn’t care if Azzi followed or not. Like she didn’t care, period.

Azzi did. Badly. And that scared her more than anything. 

-------------------------------------

12 years ago – 2017 USA U16 Basketball Camp, Colorado Springs

Azzi didn’t think about much but basketball. Not in the way people expected her to. Not the eat, sleep, breathe type of way. For Azzi, it was much simpler. Show up, put in the work, let your game speak for itself.

And it worked for her. She made the team. Not that she was ever worried. Sure, all of the other girls were talented, but none of them got it. Except for that one girl.

Azzi had heard the name Paige Bueckers a couple of times. Some blonde girl from the Midwest with nasty handles and a mouth that never stopped running. Nothing to write home about. Until she saw her play.

It was day five of camp. Final cut day. It had been drills all week. Now, they were scrimmaging. A final test to see who could handle the pressure and who would choke. Paige seemed to handle the pressure better than anyone.

Azzi didn’t mean to watch the scrimmage before hers. She didn’t want it to get in her head. But when the gym erupted with a collective “Ooooooo,” Azzi had to look up.

Paige had just crossed two defenders at once, snapped the ball behind her back, and pulled up like she didn’t even need to think about it. Net. Then she turned and jogged back on defense with a grin like she already knew what she was about to do the next play.

Azzi sat down slowly, towel still around her neck. She told herself it was to rest. But really, she just... wanted to see what happened next.

And what happened was Paige scored. Again. And again. Five straight possessions. Midrange jumper. Steal and finish. Corner three. Stepback. Hesitation drive with the left.

She wasn’t just good. She took over. Like it was her game and everyone else was lucky to be in it.

Azzi didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. But she watched every move. She could tell a lot from the way someone played ball. It was the easiest way to read someone if you knew what to look for. Paige played loudly. She said something slick after every possession. She celebrated dramatically after every bucket. She was good, and she wanted everyone to know it. 

Azzi could see right through her. Decided it was probably best to stay away. She didn’t want to get involved with that kind of cocky.

But then the party happened.

And Paige walked across the ballroom like she’d been dared to. Said things that didn’t make any sense. Things Azzi couldn’t stop turning over in her head.

Kind of impossible to ignore. You move like you have everyone where you want them. I can’t stop staring. And the one that stuck the most: Because I wanted you to know.

Who says that? 

It was such a strange, unfiltered thing to say. Like Paige wasn’t trying to win points or look cool. Like she didn’t even care how it sounded. She just wanted the words out of her mouth and into Azzi’s hands.

It was audacious. And weird. And… fascinating. Because it wasn’t what Azzi expected. 

She found herself replaying it later, in between exhausting conversations that didn’t feel like they mattered. Just that one sentence, over and over. That look on Paige’s face when she said it. The calm in her voice. The way she wasn’t asking for anything in return.

It wasn’t a pickup line. It wasn’t a play. It was a breadcrumb. And Azzi—against her better judgment—wanted to follow it.

Azzi stood at the bar, eyes fixed on the lineup of sodas and garnishes like she was thinking hard about her options. Really, she was just stalling.

Too many conversations. Too many handshakes. Too many people asking her the same five questions with the same polite smiles, and she was starting to feel like a cardboard cutout of herself.

“Shirley Temple,” she said, finally catching the bartender’s eye.

He gave her a nod and turned to make it.

That’s when Paige slid in beside her.

“Not having fun?” Paige asked, like she already knew the answer.

Azzi didn’t look at her right away. Just exhaled through her nose. “I don’t think we’re supposed to.”

Paige smiled. “Wanna go for a walk?”

Azzi glanced over, finally, and caught the glint in her eye. The same look she had when she called for an iso. That I’ve already decided kind of look.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. “Sure.”

They left through the side doors, where the night air was cool and quiet and smelled like the Colorado pines. Neither of them spoke for a minute, the hum of the party fading behind them. Paige walked a little ahead at first, then slowed until their shoulders matched.

“So,” Paige said eventually. “What do you do for fun?”

Azzi gave her a sideways look. “Basketball.”

Paige snorted. “No, I mean outside of basketball.”

“Then… nothing.”

“What? No way. You have to do something. Basketball’s just a game. It can’t be your whole life.”

Azzi’s eyes flicked up toward the sky. “Can’t it?”

Paige was quiet.

Azzi kept going. “Basketball’s the one thing that always tells the truth.”

“What truth is there to tell?”

Azzi shrugged. “You can fake a lot of things. Fake being nice. Fake being confident. Fake like you belong. But on the court? You either show up or get exposed. You either have it or you don’t.”

Paige looked over at her. “You definitely have it.”

Azzi smirked. “So do you.” She let a beat pass. “If you could ever learn how to stop running your mouth.”

Paige smiled. “What’s wrong with a little commentary?”

“Nothing,” Azzi said. “It’s just distracting. All that noise. People start listening to you talk instead of watching your game.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “But maybe I want them to hear me.”

Azzi stopped walking. Turned slightly toward her. “That’s your problem.”

“My problem?”

“You’re good,” she said, and it came out steady, like fact. “For our age group? You’re great. But if you want to be one of the greats? I think you need a little ego check.”

Paige gave her a slow blink, like she wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or annoyed. “Ouch. You figured all that out after a week?”

Azzi smiled, but there was a bite to it. “Like I said. On the court, everything shows.”

They walked a little farther, past a row of benches where the trees started to thin. The silence this time was different—less empty, more loaded.

“You think I’m dramatic, don’t you?” Azzi asked, not entirely teasing.

Paige tilted her head. “No. I think you’re…” She paused, like she was actually trying to find the word. “Everything.”

Azzi blinked. That one sat in her chest weird.

She turned to face her. “You’re weird, you know that?”

Paige grinned. “Why? ‘Cause I say what I think?”

“No,” Azzi said, “because you keep saying things like that. Things that don’t make sense. Things you’re not supposed to say out loud.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Paige said with a shrug. “I just call things as I see them.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Is that your thing or something?”

Paige’s grin widened. “It’s like a little game.”

Azzi’s voice dropped slightly. “Well be careful, Bueckers. I don’t play games off the court.”

Paige stopped. Something flickered in her face. Not fear. Something else. Like she’d just lost a round she didn’t even know she was playing.

Azzi smirked and kept walking. It was quiet for a few seconds.

“You know,” Paige called from behind her. “I think we’re gonna be something one day. You and me.”

Azzi slowed her steps. Came to a stop. Turned her head just enough to see Paige in the corner of her eye. “Something?” she echoed.

“Yeah,” Paige nodded. “I don’t know what yet, but… one day, you’ll play my game.”

Paige’s words made Azzi pause. Not in her step, not in her face. But somewhere sharper. Somewhere quieter.

It made her curious. And curiosity was dangerous.

Somewhere inside, Azzi knew that she would play Paige’s game. Somewhere inside, she knew that she wanted to win. 

----------------------------------------------

Present Day

Azzi’s first practice with the wings was awkward. Not knowing how her new teammates played, having to learn the staff’s names, trying to ignore the way her ex-everything was on the other side of the court already in it. 

Azzi watched her. Not obviously, but constantly. Paige barked plays with that familiar clipped authority in her voice, pointed teammates to the right spots, called switches before they even developed. She was reading the floor like a language only she understood. It was a painful reminder of who this team belonged to.

Paige had always been a natural leader. Loud. Commanding. But this was different. Paige didn’t play with the energy of a toddler and a slick comment waiting on the tip of her tongue. She wasn’t just leading now. She was in full control. Grounded. Sharp.

Azzi had watched her run the floor at least a thousand times before. Never with this level of composure. There was a poise to her now. A maturity Azzi couldn’t quite pin. She had grown up. Grown into this. Traded in the cockiness for confidence. 

It made something twist in Azzi’s chest. Because this version of Paige was dangerous. Not just for their opponents, not just for the league, but for her. Because that composure didn’t make Paige any easier to read. It made her harder to stay away from. 

TWEEEEEET. Coach Leslie blew the whistle to regroup and separated guards from the forwards. She started rattling off pairings for 1-on-1 finishing drills. “Bueckers, Fudd. Over there.”

Azzi couldn’t help but smirk quietly to herself. She turned toward their assigned basket where Paige was already standing at the top of the key, ready to play defense. 

“Bet you’re glad to see me,” Azzi offered sarcastically.

Paige hardly looked at her. “Just check up.”

They didn’t speak for a few reps. Paige was calm. Stoic. It drove Azzi insane the way she had shut down beyond the point of letting Azzi see what was going on inside her head.

Paige finished strong off a spin move and didn’t say a word. 

Azzi caught the rebound, reset at the top. “You’re real quiet,” she said, voice soft now, almost a whisper. Her lips pulled into a smirk. “Is it because I know what you sound like in bed?”

That got her.

Paige’s eyes snapped up. “You’re sick.”

Azzi took a step closer, grinning. “You love it.”

“I really don’t.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well… you were always too gentle to appreciate it.”

Before Paige could respond, Azzi went. Drove hard. But Paige was ready this time. She stepped in, planted, and blocked the shot clean.

Their bodies collided.

Azzi lost her balance. She would’ve gone down if Paige hadn’t caught her. One strong arm around her waist, hand gripping her side, steadying her with ridiculous ease.

They froze.

Paige’s breath was warm against her cheek.

Her voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous.

“For the record,” she said, letting Azzi down slowly. “I’m not that gentle anymore.” She let her eyes wander down and back up. “Too bad you’ll never get to learn exactly what that means.”

And then she turned. Walked off like she hadn’t just rearranged Azzi’s entire heart.

Azzi stood there for a beat, still reeling, still catching up. Then she smiled. Because oh yeah.

Now Paige was playing the game. 

After practice, Azzi showered and changed in the locker room. She took her time like she was just soaking it all in, but she was actually just stalling. Waiting for Paige. Because she wanted to see her again. Because she didn’t want to go home without getting some stuff off her chest. 

She had finished getting her things together, and still no Paige. So, Azzi went back to the court. Because of course she stayed later to put up extra free throws. 

Other than the quiet bounce of Paige’s ball, the gym was silent. Paige was alone. She had her back to the door, and didn’t turn around when Azzi walked in. But Azzi could tell she knew she was there. She heard it in Paige’s breath.

Azzi stopped at halfcourt. Close enough to use a normal speaking voice, but not close enough to feel the pull. She thought about saying Hi or You played well today to break the ice. It didn’t exactly go well the first two times she tried, so she got straight to the point. 

“Do you remember when we met?” she asked.

Paige didn’t flinch. Didn’t stop shooting. Didn’t turn.

Azzi continued. “At camp. You came up to me at that party, and you told me that I had everyone right where I wanted them. That you couldn’t stop staring–”

“I remember,” Paige snapped, placing the ball on her hip. Like the memory was bitter. Then softer, “I remember everything.” She still didn’t turn around. 

Something inside Azzi ached at that. Because she could tell Paige was hurting. Probably worse than she was. She wanted to stop right there. Run away and leave well enough alone to spare them both the heartache, but she had to see this through.

“Then, you remember when you said that one day, I’d play your game,” Azzi said, matching Paige’s soft tone.

Paige didn’t offer a reaction. Not one that Azzi could see, at least. Just a sharp exhale through her nose.

Azzi swallowed. “I know I don’t have the right to ask for anything. Not how we left things. Not how I left you. But… it’s all I ever think about. How you were right that night. I did play your game.”

Still nothing.

“And, maybe I don’t have the right to say this either, but… baby, I’m still playing.”

Paige flinched at the word baby. Azzi knew she probably shouldn’t have said that, but she probably shouldn’t have said any of the other stuff either. 

Azzi shrugged. “I don’t even want to win anymore. I just want you to play, too,” she said quietly.

The air remained still. Not a sound or a movement in the entire gym. Azzi turned to leave.

“It’s been four fucking years,” Paige said, finally turning halfway around. Her voice was rough and fiery.

Azzi stopped, turning her head over her shoulder, looking at the ground. “I know.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Paige turned around fully. “It’s been four years, two months, eight days, and 16 hours.”

Azzi felt all the air leave her body. She felt the ache. She was frozen. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Just stuck staring back at those beautiful blue eyes. Eyes that looked soft and hard all at once. Like the way Paige used to look at her and the way she looked at her now were colliding.

Paige bit her bottom lip. “So, why? Why would you tell me that now?”

Azzi sat with the question for a moment. Let it hang in the air. Looked up to meet Paige’s eyes. Then, she realized she only had one answer.

“Because I wanted you to know.”

[sowerpatch]

deep end [chapter 4 - the sugar baby]

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd Summary: Paige is barely holding it together—broke, half-focused on her last semester in UCLA, and saying yes to every side gig that pays. Pool cleaning seemed easy enough. Then she gets assigned to a secluded property in the hills, where the woman of the house watches her work and never says more than she has to.

Azzi is a cardiologist, recently separated, and still adjusting to a house that feels too large for one—too quiet when her daughter’s away. She didn’t ask for a distraction. Certainly not one with long legs, a smart mouth, and a habit of showing up late with wet hair and no apology.

What begins as glances and guarded small talk unravels into something harder to name. Neither of them should want more. Author's note: this is an AU where Paige is a college student in UCLA and Azzi is 14 years older with a daughter (but she's divorced). someone suggested i should write milf!Azzi. i don’t know if i’ll do it justice, but here we go. *CHAPTER LIST HERE* Chapter Summary: Paige settles deeper into life with Azzi and her daughter, but an offhand comment from Azzi’s ex-husband shakes her composure and pulls old insecurities to the surface. Azzi’s reassurance draws her back. And a stolen night under the stars followed by a school talent show leaves them stripped and exposed yet more certain of what they mean to each other. Word Count: 5,254

The living room looked like finals week had detonated in it. Laptops hummed on every surface. Open textbooks sprawled like bodies across the couch. Three half-empty coffee mugs had already claimed the coffee table as sacred ground. 

Paige sat cross-legged on the floor, her laptop propped on an overturned laundry basket. She’d been staring at the same sentence for twenty minutes, or at least pretending to, when Nika spoke up from the couch. 

“You’ve been kind of glowing lately,” Nika said, chin propped on her palm. “Was that a real outline I saw on your last submission for Econ?” 

KK made a show of gasping. “She indented?” 

“Spaced it too,” Nika added. “Like, properly. With structure.” 

Paige kept her focus on her screen. Face warming every second her friends talk and she knew it wasn’t from the radiator rattling in the corner.  

The memory rose too easily.  

Azzi in her kitchen, reading over her shoulder every few minutes, pointing out typos like it was a sport. Half of that paper had been written with Azzi perched on the stool behind her, elbowing Paige every time she swapped ‘affect’ and ‘effect.’ 

“You banging the TA?” KK asked flatly, flipping her pencil between her fingers. “That’s the only explanation.” 

Paige threw a crumpled receipt at her. “Shut up.” 

KK ducked. “Touchy. So, it was a professor?” 

“She said shut up like that’ll help her case,” Nika said, grinning now. 

Paige tried to fight the smile, but it was useless. The corner of her mouth tugged upward before she could stop it. She pulled her hoodie over her head to hide it, the sleeves bunching in a way that felt too much like being found out. 

KK twisted around, her elbow knocking into a mug that had long gone cold. “So, how’s the pool cleaning life? Still living the chlorine dream?” 

Paige pulled her hoodie back just enough to speak, stretching out her legs like the conversation meant nothing. “Business is actually doing great.” 

Nika looked up from her laptop. “I heard that Manhattan Beach lady had a temper. Bossy as hell. But she pays good, right?” 

Paige shrugged. “Only did one job for her. Couldn’t say much.” 

Nika raised both brows like she already knew where to steer the conversation. “What about that young wife in Beverly Hills? The one with the glass deck and the view? I bet you did more than one job on her.” 

Paige snorted before she could stop herself. “I’ll admit that one was hot. But the only thing I did after cleaning was test the water.” 

KK’s face crumpled with mock disappointment. “Who are you and what did you do to player Paige?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Paige said, even though her voice lacked any real conviction. 

Nika lowered her screen slowly, her eyes narrowing just enough to land the question like a stone dropped in a pond. “Hold up. Are you seeing someone?” 

That had Paige sat up straighter. 

Nika was watching her closely now while KK’s expression had softened. Waiting.  

She looked at both of them. Her best friends. The only ones who hadn’t let her fall through the cracks when everything else did. 

There was a pause, hesitation more than doubt. The kind that came from holding something good in her hands and fearing the air would change once she said it out loud. 

Things with Azzi had been good lately. More than good. There was a rhythm now. Grocery runs that turned into cooking together. Movie nights where Paige ended up with a small head pressed into her side. Mornings where she swam laps while Emily watched from the deck, hair tangled in sleep, holding a bowl of cereal like a queen on her throne.  

There were moments Paige didn’t even realize she was smiling until Azzi looked over with that amused, unreadable look of hers. 

They had built something soft between the chaos. She was scared to let the world breathe on it. 

But these were her girls. The ones who stayed. 

They were the ones who had stood on the steps of Pauley Pavilion and refused to play until someone explained why the team’s starting guard had been dropped mid-season without warning.  

They were the ones who wrote to the dean and walked into meetings like lawyers, demanding transparency in a system designed to offer none. 

They were the ones who pooled money without needing to say it out loud, covering her rent when she couldn’t scrape enough from tutoring and odd jobs. 

They never asked for anything in return. They paid what they could.

They left takeout by her door when they knew she was skipping meals. Tucked envelopes with her name into her backpack like it was second nature. 

Paige let out a slow breath, thumb tugging at a loose thread on her sleeve.  

“I’ve been seeing someone,” she said finally, voice low but clear. “And it’s different.” 

KK tilted her head. “How different?” 

Paige glanced between them, measuring how much to give, how much to keep. Then she shrugged lightly, as if saying it out loud would make it more manageable. 

“For one, she has an eight-year-old daughter.” 

Nika’s face twitched with disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

In the same time KK threw up her hands. “Back up. What the fuck!? She has a little girly pop?” 

Paige let them spiral, resting her forearms on the table with a crooked grin barely pulling at the edge of her mouth. 

“You remember that first client you gave me? For the pool job two months ago?” she asked, eyes flicking toward Nika. 

“That Dr. Something?” 

Paige nodded. “Dr. Fudd, yeah.” 

KK sat up straighter. “You’re seeing a doctor?” 

“We had a bit of a rocky start, but I think it’s safe to say we’re seeing each other.” 

Nika pushed both palms against the table like she needed grounding. “Holy shit! And she has a daughter?” 

Paige couldn’t stop the smile that came with the thought of Emily. “A very smart and lovely daughter.” 

KK pointed at her like she’d solved a mystery. “Bro! You’re smitten as fuck.” 

“What’s her full name again?” 

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Azzi Fudd.” 

After asking Paige to spell it out, Nika hit enter on the search bar and stared. “Oh, my god. Oh my god.” 

KK leaned over to see the screen. “Is that her?” 

Nika angled the laptop, still in shock. “This is your boss? She’s gorgeous. Like, objectively stunning. This woman looks like she does Pilates in thousand-dollar leggings and has her life together by six a.m.” 

“You bagged her?” KK's voice cracked like she didn’t trust the math. “Paige, be for real. Did you fall in her pool and she felt bad for you?” 

Paige laughed, shaking her head. “You’re both impossible.” 

Nika squinted suspiciously, like a thought had just landed with weight. “Wait, you’re not wrecking a home. Are you?” 

“Ex-husband’s out of the picture. Just swings by to drop the kid. Haven’t seen him though. They do the exchange on the driveway or at school.” 

Nika relaxed her jaw, but her eyes stayed on Paige. “I don’t know this era of you, but if you’re happy and not messing with a family, then I’m good.” 

“Thanks,” Paige said, sincerity softening her voice. 

“Do you think she does free consultations for your friends?” 

Paige blinked once, then grabbed the throw pillow from the couch and hurled it across the room. It hit KK square in the face. 

“Worth asking!” KK shouted through a laugh, arms raised in surrender. 

- 

Traffic moved loosely around them, each lane carrying its own lazy rhythm as Azzi’s car slipped between exits with a steady hum. The leather interior held a faint trace of her perfume, clean and grounding.  

Paige hadn’t stopped tapping her thighs. Her fingers moved across her jeans like they had somewhere to be. A restless, nervous rhythm that hadn’t let up since they left the house. 

Azzi glanced over. “You alright?” 

Paige’s throat tightened around the word before it could take shape.  

“I’m fine,” she said, barely. Her voice cracked halfway through it. 

Azzi’s eyes lingered until the next red light gave her a reason to turn to the mess that was Paige Bueckers on her front seat. Her expression was calm, but direct. “Wanna try that again?” 

Paige exhaled, long and shaky. Then her mouth moved faster than her brain. “Do you want to go out on a date with me?” 

Azzi blinked. “What?” 

“I mean, I don’t really know what we are or what this is, but I know I like being around you. I like you. And I want to take you out. Somewhere probably affordable, like value or combo meals. Like a place where the menu doesn’t make me do math or ask for a second job. I—” 

Azzi’s laugh broke the spiral. Warm, surprised, full-bodied. 

“You could take me to a hotdog stand and I’d say yes.” 

Paige stared. 

Azzi reached over and took her hand, threading their fingers together without fuss. Her thumb brushed over Paige’s knuckles. “Yes, I’d like to go on a date with you. Thanks for asking.” 

A sharp honk cut through the stillness behind them, the traffic light already turned green.    Paige looked down at their joined hands, then out the window. Her tapping had stopped and a smile on her face slowly formed. 

- 

The front door swung open with a gentle thud as Jeff guided Emily in by the shoulder, his grip absentminded but familiar. She was already kicking off her shoes, muttering about needing to reorganize her backpack before Monday.  

Azzi appeared in the hallway, folding her lab coats for laundry. Emily gave her a quick hug before darting down toward her room, voice trailing off with a vague promise to unpack. 

Azzi raised an eyebrow as she stepped back into the kitchen. “You want coffee?” 

“Only if you’re making the good kind,” he said, setting his keys on the counter and leaning into the island like he used to. 

He was still in his work clothes. A crisp dress shirt tucked neatly into charcoal slacks, suit folded over one arm, polished shoes sounding too professional for a kitchen floor. 

“The good kind takes ten minutes. You can survive that long?” 

“Fifteen years with you, I’ve trained for worse.” 

Her laugh was soft, throatier than it used to be. She moved around the kitchen with ease, still knowing where everything was despite the renovations she’d made after he moved out. 

Jeff watched, his posture relaxed but not aimless. 

“Did the papers come?” she asked without turning. 

“They did. Signed them last night,” Jeff said, taking a folder from his laptop bag. “I dropped my copy with that paralegal this morning. Here is yours.” 

She wiped her hands on a towel before taking it from him. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the manila folder for a moment before she set it aside near the fruit bowl. 

“Well. There we are,” she said. 

“Seven years as college and post college sweethearts. Eight years of marriage. All wrapped up in a stapled packet,” Jeff replied, his voice mild. He reached for a piece of grape on the counter and popped it into his mouth. “And somehow, you look better than you did at year one.” 

Azzi lifted an eyebrow, folding her arms loosely as she leaned against the counter. “Trying flattery now? You already got the beach house in Santa Monica.” 

“I’m serious.” He gestured vaguely at her face. “You’re glowing.” 

“Glowing,” she repeated, flatly. 

“I mean it. In the fifteen years we were together, I’ve never seen you look like this. Not once. Except maybe the day Emily was born. But not even the day we got married.” 

Azzi’s gaze dropped. Something tender crept into her features, less from the compliment and more from the memory.

Her fingers brushed the spot where her wedding ring used to sit, a ghost of a habit she hadn’t shaken. 

Jeff smiled softly. “It’s good to see you like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“Free. Happy. Like yourself again.”    They didn’t hear the front door open.  

Paige’s steps were light at first, a muffled shuffle against hardwood, until she rounded the corner into the kitchen. Her expression froze mid-smile. She hadn’t expected company. Certainly not a six-foot-something man who looked uncannily like her favorite kid.  

Paige’s eyes flicked from Jeff to Azzi’s flushed cheeks. 

Azzi’s gaze lifted toward the archway, her posture tightening just slightly. "Hey, you’re back early.” 

Jeff followed her line of sight, his head turning lazily, expression still warm from the moment they’d shared. Then his eyebrows lifted in recognition. 

A grin tugged at his mouth. “Aaaah. This must be the sugar baby.” 

Paige froze. 

The words hit harder than they should have, worse for how casually they were said. 

She turned sharply and walked out with fast, clipped steps. Her shoulders squared like armor. The burn of humiliation threatened, tangled with anger pressing just beneath her ribs. She swallowed it all before it could surface. 

Azzi stood frozen for a beat, then shoved the hand towel against Jeff’s chest, sharp and hard. 

“You jerk.” 

She didn’t wait for him to reply. She was already moving. 

The afternoon heat met her at the door. Beyond the sliding glass, Paige was crouched beside the storage bench by the pool. She was focused on wrenching it open. She grabbed anything she could reach, stuffing it into the bag with no care for order.  

The charger cord snagged. She yanked harder, muttered something low under her breath. 

“Paige,” Azzi said. “Wait.” 

“I’m good.” Paige didn’t look up. “I wasn’t planning on staying long anyway.” 

Azzi stopped a few feet away. “He was joking. That’s just Jeff. He’s a smartass. He didn’t mean anything by it.” 

Paige stood, eyes hard. Her backpack hung from one shoulder, the zipper half open from where she’d shoved too much inside. “Didn’t mean to say what? Out loud? What everyone already thinks?” 

Azzi’s mouth parted, but nothing came. 

“I clean your pool. I eat your food. I sleep in your bed,” Paige said, the words coming fast. “You really think I haven’t already done the math? You think I don’t know how that looks from the outside?” 

“That’s not what this is.” 

“Isn’t it?” Her voice cracked around the edges now. “Because today it really felt like it was.” 

Azzi stepped closer, slow and careful. As if getting too close too fast might startle the last sliver of belief still holding Paige in place.  

She kept her voice low. “It isn’t. And you know it.” 

Her hand hovered before it landed, fingers brushing Paige’s arm like it hurt to be kept away. Her next words carried the weight of something she hadn’t let herself say until now. “I don’t see you that way. The same way you don’t see me as someone who pays you to sleep with me. We are more than that. You know it. You feel it. Please tell me you feel it.” 

Paige looked at her. The storm hadn’t passed, but in the middle of it, Azzi was standing there stripped down to the most human version of herself. Vulnerable, unsure, eyes rimmed with unshed grief she hadn’t let out in years. 

The bag slipped from Paige’s grip and hit the ground with a thud. She moved forward and wrapped her arms around Azzi, pressing her face into her shoulder as if the contact could patch the parts of her that had been cracked wide open. 

“I feel it,” Paige whispered, her lips grazing Azzi’s temple. “I feel you, ma.” 

Azzi clung to her like she’d been holding herself up alone for too long.  

“I’m sorry this is so complicated,” she said against Paige's neck. “And I don’t know how to stop it.” 

“We’ll work things out,” Paige murmured, kissing her temple.  

Azzi pulled back just enough to look at Paige.  

Their mouths found each other easily, drawn in without force. The kiss was slow and certain. The kind that made the ground feel real again. It was shaped by familiarity and relief. 

When it broke, Paige let her forehead rest against Azzi’s, still close enough to taste her breath.  

“Your ex-husband’s a dick,” she muttered, mouth twitching into something half-smirking. 

Azzi huffed a laugh, closing her eyes as she leaned more. “That he is. But he’s a harmless dick.” 

“I still don’t like him.” 

- 

They arrived after hours. The building was already dark, the entrance unlocked just long enough for Paige to tug Azzi inside by the hand, a victorious grin tugging at her lips. 

“Don’t ask how,” Paige whispered, punching a code into a side panel like she worked there. “Let’s just say Nika has a cousin, and that cousin owes her money, and here we are.” 

Azzi gave her a look, half impressed, half exasperated. “You broke into a planetarium.” 

“Borrowed. Temporarily occupied. Shared space with the cosmos.” Paige flicked on the projector. A second later, a dome of stars unfolded above them. 

They walked to the center. Azzi hesitated before sitting. But Paige had already stretched out on the smooth floor with her hands laced behind her head, eyes tracking a digital arc of starlight. 

“Bet you don’t know the first constellation I learned,” Paige said. “Cassiopeia. Thought the crown shape made her sound royal. My mom said she was vain, but I thought she was brave. Sitting up there forever, watching everything move on without her.” 

Azzi settled beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched.  

“I used to want to be an astronaut,” she said after a beat. “When I was seven. Thought I’d be the first Black woman on the moon.” 

Paige turned her head. “You would’ve looked damn good in a space suit.” 

Azzi smiled faintly. “I chose hearts instead. Figured fixing what’s broken here was better than floating away from it.” 

The stars shifted above them, slow and sweeping. Paige breathed in the artificial night, trying to match Azzi’s rhythm. 

“This one,” she murmured, pointing toward a cluster gliding west, “used to be my favorite. My dad told me it was the shape of a basketball hoop if you squinted hard enough.” 

Azzi made a quiet sound beside her, something like amusement pressed into thought. 

“You okay?” Paige asked, angling her head to catch her expression. 

Azzi turned slightly, her gaze still upward.  

“Yeah. I’m good. It’s just a rough week. The hospital’s been chaos. I’ve had four emergency on calls this week and a cardio team that thinks caffeine counts as a personality trait.” A worn breath escaped her. “But I’m breathing more. My divorce is finally moving toward the finish line.” 

Paige went still beside her. They haven’t talked about Jeff or the divorce since the day Paige walked into them. 

“Can I ask how you feel about it?” Her voice came soft, edged with hesitation. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I’m not trying to—” 

“It’s okay,” Azzi interrupted, gently. 

Above them, the artificial stars moved on, patient and slow. 

“Jeff and I were best friends in high school,” Azzi began, her voice steady. “We were the overachievers who made it into Yale together. Same dorm floor, same bad coffee habits. Everyone used to joke that it was only a matter of time.” 

Paige stayed quiet this time, letting her speak. 

“We started dating at twenty. It felt like a natural shift, going from best friends to something more. And for a while, it worked. We knew each other so well, it was easy to fall into a rhythm.” Her tone dimmed. “But easy doesn’t always mean right. We broke up, got back together, broke up again. Always gravitating back because it was familiar. Safe.” 

She paused again. When she spoke next, it was quieter, more tentative. 

“He caught me one day kissing my hair and makeup artist when we were twenty-three.” A wry smile pulled at her mouth, thin and sad. “Jeff told me later he already knew I was gay. Said the signs were always there. I think part of me knew too.” 

Paige turned slightly, watching the profile of her face in the false starlight. 

“We would’ve ended our relationship in our seventh year. That was the plan. But after one too many drinks at a friend’s birthday party... Emily came along. Nine months later.” 

Azzi’s eyes glistened, but she didn’t cry yet. Her voice was still composed. 

“Our parents wanted tradition. Marriage. A stable home. The whole picture. And for a while, it was beautiful. We both loved her so much, we forgot what was broken between us. But once she got older, once we weren’t just surviving every day with a baby, the cracks came back.” 

Paige swallowed. “Did he cheat on you?” 

Azzi took a long moment to answer. “I don’t think it’s cheating when two people are living separate lives under the same roof. Yes, he started seeing other women. I didn’t blame him. Deep down, I knew I could never give him what he was looking for.” 

A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it with the back of her hand.  

“He’s Emily’s father and I’ll always be grateful for him for giving me her. And before anything else, he was my best friend. We grew up side by side. High school. College. There was a time when choosing each other felt like the most natural thing in the world. But people grow in different directions, sometimes slowly, sometimes all at once.” 

Azzi’s words felt like there was a weight behind them. The kind that came from years of carrying them. 

Paige brushed her fingers lightly against Azzi’s. “That must’ve been hard.” 

“It was.” Her eyes met Paige’s without flinching. “There’s a kind of loss in it that’s hard to explain. When someone’s been part of your life that long, letting go doesn’t come with a single decision. It’s a hundred quiet moments where you stop reaching for each other. But I meant what I said. We made the choice together. For Emily. She deserves to grow up watching love take shape, not watching it fall apart in slow motion.” 

She paused, her voice softening as the next words came. “The divorce is final now. It feels strange and but real all at once. Like catching my breath for the first time in years.” 

Paige nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Can I ask how you really feel about it? About all of it?” 

Azzi exhaled, the kind of breath that unlocked something deeper. “Relieved. Sad, too. There’s history there. He was part of everything. Birthdays, med school, the day I found out I was pregnant. But what we had ran its course. I’m not holding onto him, and he’s not holding onto me. We’re here for Emily. As her parents. As friends who stopped being more a long time ago.” 

Their hands found each other fully now, fingers lacing together in the space between them. 

“Thank you for trusting me with that,” Paige said quietly. 

“I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea and run away.”    Paige closed her eyes. “That was on me. I shouldn’t have ran away. That was so immature.” 

“Paige, I know we’re different,” Azzi whispered, trying not to disturb the peace on Paige’s closed eyes. “And there’s a lot we don’t always see the same way. But I want to keep showing up. I want us to be able to talk, even when it’s hard. If this is going to work, I want an open communication.” 

Paige opened her eyes. Her breath caught, just briefly, as she studied the woman beside her. Then she reached out and kissed her, unhurried and sure. Her lips pressed against Azzi’s with a kind of promise that didn’t need rehearsing. 

When she pulled back, her voice was low and honest. “I suck at communication. Always have. I tend to dodge and joke my way through stuff, but I’ll try. For you. For us.” 

Her thumb traced lightly along Azzi’s knuckles. “Still think Jeff’s kind of a dick, though.” 

Azzi burst into a laugh, full and bright, her whole body giving in to it. She reached for Paige and curled closer, her arm wrapping around her with instinctive ease. There was warmth in the gesture, a softness she rarely allowed herself outside these moments. 

“Thank you for tonight,” she murmured, resting her head near Paige’s shoulder. “I really, really enjoyed it.” 

Paige turned, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s temple without needing to think. “Anything for you, baby.” 

Above them, constellations shifted across the dome, fake and beautiful and strangely perfect for the world they were building between them. 

- 

Paige turned the flyer over in her hands for the fifth time, its edges soft from wear. There was a smudge of glitter catching the light near the corner.  

Across the top, cheerful curls of ink declared St. James Elementary Talent Show: Friday, 3PM. Crayon stars burst across the page, uneven and bright. The kind of decoration that could only come from a second grader with too many markers and too much enthusiasm. 

She sat hunched at Azzi’s kitchen island, elbows pressed against the counter. She had one foot resting awkwardly on the stool rung while the other tapped a slow rhythm against the floor. 

“I don’t even know if I’m allowed to go,” she said, her tone hushed. 

Azzi stood at the sink, her sleeves pushed to her elbows as her hands submerged in a colander of grapes. Water ran between her fingers before she shut it off and let the fruit drain.    “Do you not want to go?” 

Paige looked down again. The stars Emily had drawn were lopsided and bold, bright pink and pressed hard into the paper. 

“The whole school’s gonna be there,” Paige said. Her thumb traced the edge of the flyer. “Parents. Teachers. People who’ll wonder why I’m sitting next to you.” 

Azzi dried her hands with the dish towel and walked over. She didn’t speak until she was close enough to be heard clearly. 

“I know what this means.” Her voice was even, but her eyes held a tension that came from living too long under other people’s assumptions. “They’ll see us. They’ll probably have things to say.” 

Paige studied her face for a long moment. “And you’re okay with that?” 

Azzi reached out and brushed her fingers against Paige’s wrist, her touch light but deliberate. “I want to be there for Emily. And I want you beside me.” 

Paige exhaled through her nose, her eyes dropping back to the glittering stars on the flyer. 

“I want to be there for her too,” she said softly. Then she folded the paper once more, slower this time, and placed it beside the fruit bowl. “Okay, let’s do this.” 

- 

The auditorium pulsed with the energy of elementary-school nerves. Streamers drooped from ceiling vents, glitter catching the overhead lights in fractured bursts. Rows of metal chairs stretched across the polished floor filled with parents craning their necks toward a low wooden stage framed in painted cardboard stars.  

Children flitted through the aisles in capes, glittery tights, bowties, and lopsided headbands. A few brandished ukuleles or tambourines like shields. Others clung to their cue cards, lips moving with silent rehearsal. 

Azzi and Paige stood near the back wall, half in the shadows beneath a plastic banner that read St. James Kids Got Talent in crooked, hand-cut letters.  

Their fingers were laced between them, casual in theory, but Azzi’s thumb kept tracing over Paige’s knuckles in a steady rhythm. It was the only sign she was nervous.  

Paige wore jeans and a dark polo buttoned to the top, her hair neatly tied. She kept her expression neutral, but her eyes tracked every unfamiliar glance that swept their way. 

The moment Emily stepped onstage, she forgot about the crowd. 

Wearing a sequined vest and plastic sunglasses that covered half her face, Emily struck a pose with her tambourine high in the air like she was headlining a concert.  

Music kicked in over the small sound system. Her performance included stomping, spinning, and a single cartwheel that knocked her sunglasses off. She barely missed a beat.  

Azzi watched with a breathless smile that Paige had only seen when she talked about her work. Pride softened every line in her face. 

When the final note played and Emily bowed, Paige clapped hard enough to sting her palms. 

They waited as families stood, chatting in the aisles or making their way toward the exits. Children darted back and forth, still in costumes. That was when one of the parents approached. 

She wore red, and her smile was polite in the way that always meant trouble.    “Oh, are you the Smiths' new nanny?” she asked, looking at Paige with a hint of rehearsed warmth. “Emily was just adorable.”    Azzi’s hand tightened around Paige’s. Her reply was calm, unhurried. “Mrs. Sanders, Paige isn’t Emily's nanny.” 

The woman’s smile wavered. Her eyes dropped to their joined hands. A shadow passed across her expression, like something sour pressing into her mouth. 

“Well, I suppose everyone finds their own way to chase youth. Must be convenient, having someone who doesn’t ask too many questions. I imagine it helped after Mr. Smith left you." 

Paige’s shoulders went rigid. She exhaled once, bracing to speak, but the interruption came from behind them. 

“I believe it’s none of your business who my ex-wife is dating, Susan.” Jeff said, voice smooth as glass.  

He walked toward them with the relaxed poise of a man who spent his days negotiating contracts in polished shoes. The blazer fit him perfectly. So did the smile. 

“And just so we’re clear, I didn’t leave her,” he continued, casting a glance at the woman. “The divorce was mutual.” 

The woman looked caught between apology and exit, lips parted like she meant to recover the moment. She didn’t get the chance. Jeff had already turned to Paige, clapping a hand lightly on her shoulder. 

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got a family reunion to attend. Our star performer awaits.” 

They made their way through the shifting crowd. Emily spotted them first, her eyes lighting up before she charged forward and wrapped herself around Azzi’s waist. 

“Mommy! Daddy! Paigey! You’re all here! It’s like Christmas!” 

Jeff chuckled and ruffled her curls. “Having your mom’s girlfriend here makes us look like a Hallmark special gone off script.” 

Emily pulled back. “Mom’s girlfriend?” 

The words lingered. Jeff blinked, suddenly aware of what he’d said. He coughed and gestured vaguely across the room, realizing too late that Azzi might not have talked to Emily about her relationship with Paige. Of all the lines to cross, this one hadn’t occurred to him until now. 

“I think I spotted Mr. Tinsel over there. I should ask about the next golfing session.” 

As quickly as he dropped the bomb, he vanished into the crowd. 

“Jefferson!” Azzi called after him, but her voice only carried as far as a few giggling kids in magician hats. 

She sighed, shoulders still half-raised in disbelief.  

Paige stood beside her, a smile tugging at the edge of her mouth.  

Emily turned to both of them. Watching with the sharp, observant stillness of a child who understood more than adults assumed. 

The question sat between them. 

Paige met Azzi’s gaze. Together, they faced the only audience that mattered. 

[elistarrk]

#if nothing else I think WN and WQ would be like#mmm. maybe let’s wake up the patient and ask him before we commit to this on WWX’s analysis of JC’s character alone#anyway the problem with JC needing to be up front about his own self-sacrifice#is that he barely has the chance to process what happened to him before they sent him to Lalaland for being such a downer#it’s not like WWX asked him what happened and he lied#WWX made assumptions and did not bother to confirm them

picking this out from the long list of @cerusee 's wonderful tags too because yes!! i will never be over this! especially the part in bold.

yes, they're all teenagers or maybe early 20s! yes, they're making terrible decisions in high stress moments! and wei wuxian is so insane about jiang cheng that he cannot bear to see him in this moment of pain and goes into immediate panic "i must fix this" mode and hyperfocuses on the one bit of agency he does actually have to "fix" the situation!

no one really pauses to consider "oh hey this kid just saw the bodies of almost everyone he's ever known and then got brutally tortured in front of their bodies (including and honestly likely staring the bodies of his parents) for an unspecified amount of time and ending with a debilitating injury and loss of his life's work/maybe what he thinks his only role in life is. and then woke up to see the same robes as the people who did this to him. and one of them was there. that's kinda a lot that he hasn't really had the time to process at all."

like... a crashout is a perfectly normal response here??? intense depression/dissociation is a reasonable way for anyone's brain to react to even a modicum of what the dude has been through???

it's understandable for him to be stuck in a mindset of expecting or even wanting to be dead when he drew away the wen patrolling forces not expecting to live.

and the thing is, even if he was given the opportunity to, i can't even quite say he would admit it. if he knew about the plan for the core transfer, he might, but he'd probably do everything possible to stop it without revealing what he had done. as much as i love a "no, idiot. i didn't sacrifice myself for you to turn around and sacrifice yourself for me in a more stupid and unnecessary way", i really don't see jiang cheng processing his own sacrifice in any positive light at that moment.

he, the last heir of his clan, willingly put himself in a place where he had reason to believe he wouldn't make it out alive or at the very least whole (he knew wen zhuliu was there) for the sake of a "servant". by all accounts, he should have prioritized his own survival as the person now responsible for reviving their sect. but in some subconscious impulse or maybe a moment of clarity, he made the most selfless and yet selfish choice. he threw away his filial duty to give someone he loved a chance to escape a sure death. and then had to face his mother's dead body knowing how horrifically he had just failed her.

wei wuxian's assumption of why jiang cheng was back in lotus pier might actually be one he wouldn't want to correct. at least then there would be some amount of understanding in his duty to his family. it paints him as rash and impulsive but that isn't anything new really.

regardless, no one gives him the time to explain his side or come to terms with it. and yeah they're on a time crunch residing in enemy territory. but even still, there is very little time he is noted to be conscious between being rescued and the core transfer! he's treated like he's so unreasonable for... being traumatized? going through several stages of grief at once?

(oops it's yapping hours i guess but more below)

and then when he does get some time to process, they never talk about it. his brother is gone and then comes back wrong. but hey, at least he comes back! he might be messing with corpses in a way that should be concerning but he says he's fine and he's got it under control and he's a genius so it's not too far off the mark that he's "attempted the impossible" yet again and figured out how to be in control of it. and if it helps them win this war, sure. whatever. all the better to get revenge.

and then after the war, wei wuxian is out getting drunk all the time and picking fights and flaunting his power with other sect leaders. but jiang cheng doesn't pull rank (as he is very much valid to do) and order him to tell him what the fuck is going on or to do his job as head disciple. he just sorta accepts "yeah wei wuxian is going through it. no clue what he went through in the three months we didn't see each other but frankly i don't have the time to babysit him while rebuilding my sect that he was supposed to help me with." he does try to confront him about his sword but it's brushed off and he drops it. whatever.

and then wei wuxian kills the officers at Qiongqi Pass and frees the Wens. and suddenly the snake pit of the Jins turns their eyes to him and it's wei wuxian or all of the people of the yunmeng jiang he has built on the line. and wei wuxian has now put his own neck on the line for people from the very sect that massacred their people, with the only explanation that jiang cheng can come up with being that wen ning and wen qing helped the two of them after he was rescued from his torture, so he owes them. but jiang cheng can't save him this time. it's not only his own life that he would have to put on the line anymore, and he can't risk the lives of the people depending on him.

and the man who he was willing to give his life for isn't willing to stay.

but that's fine. he'd never been anyone's first choice anyway. they stage his defection to prevent from implicating yunmeng jiang in his actions and thereby dragging the innocent disciples into the fray. maybe if they wait this out long enough, things'll calm down and wei wuxian'll be able to come back.

and they do start to calm down over time. he brings jiejie to see him before the wedding, and suggests that wei wuxian give the courtesy name for her unborn child. and they invite wei wuxian to the kid's one month ceremony, only for the death of her husband (and many other cultivators from various sects) at wei wuxian's hands to be announced. and yeah, he never really liked the dude, but would wei wuxian really go that far?

either way, there's not really time to find out. a major sect heir was killed and the sects are uniting against the threat and demanding blood. and it was his sister's husband, so if he doesn't show up, that puts a massive target on his back (jiang cheng must have supported these actions if he's not willing to hold wei wuxian accountable for them) and thus yunmeng jiang's back as well. so fuck, he has to go.

and then wei wuxian shows up too and something's very clearly wrong. and a fight breaks out and then jiejie is there. and one of the corpses wei wuxian swore he could control attacks her? and then she throws herself in front of a sword meant for wei wuxian. and whatever thin thread was holding him to sanity breaks and his corpses start killing like crazy.

and jiang cheng has the lifeless body of one of the people he cared about most in the world in his arms and he trusted wei wuxian.

at every step jiang cheng is left in the dark and it isn't until his sister is killed that he actually fully gives up on wei wuxian.

and 13 years later, he knows better than to blindly trust wei wuxian when he comes back. he hounds him for answers that he doesn't receive. he demands that he kneel and apologize to his parents' plaques in the ancestral hall, only for wei wuxian to keep running away and avoiding responsibility.

and of course when wei wuxian does come to lotus pier in the end, he does visit the ancestral hall, but to start to marry the man who's had a hate-on for jiang cheng for the last decade? all while avoiding jiang cheng whenever possible the whole way. and when confronted about it, he denies it until lan wangji is insulted.

and then jiang cheng finally learns the truth by having it thrown in his face by one of the people who helped do the operation without his consent.

it's only then he finally gets some answers for why wei wuxian made the choices he did and of course it's devastating and he's heavily implied to have a breakdown about it. understandably.

and then less than 36 hours later when he sees a danger to wei wuxian in the guanyin temple, his immediate instinct is to block it and protect him (even if it is unnecessary and illogical if he had taken the moment to think about it) and he ends up badly wounded as a result.

he very much changed his response to wei wuxian once he had more information! to go from hitting him with zidian and tying him for answers to instinctively protecting him and returning his instrument of the very cultivation that led to his sister's death?

bro did not change in 13 years but he did change in 36 hours. crazy how actually being given the information that would give him the reason to change actually inspires him to.

Lotta takes that are like "Jiang Cheng didn't change his behaviour at all in 13 years, that proves that he doesn't want to grow as a person" and it's like, sorry but why would he change his behaviour when the information that would recontextualise Wei Wuxian's actions and thus lead him to rethink his own reactions was deliberately kept hidden from him? From his perspective, his brother broke all his promises for no goddamn reason, picked a different family over him, lost control of the evil energy he swore he could control, and in doing so caused such a catastrophe that both of Jin Ling's parents were killed. We know that there's more to that story, but he doesn't, and it would be impossible for him to find out on his own because again, everyone involved was lying to him and hiding the relevant information on purpose.

He's told about the golden core transfer like three hours before the book ends, and frankly processes it faster than most people could reasonably be expected to after 13 years of grief and loneliness! "He had chances to improve his behaviour and didn't" HE LITERALLY DIDN'T HAVE ANY CHANCES BECAUSE WWX LIED TO HIM!! His behaviour was completely justified from his perspective and when his perspective is changed, and he realises that what he did was wrong, he's like, SUPER upset about it!

[mommyslittlebird]

Fixation

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader (HSG universe)

Summary: After a long day, Wanda has to calm you down using some unconventional methods.

Word Count: ~1.2k

CW: discussions of pregnancy?, womb fixation, Fruedian stuff, but it's all SFW

A/N: I don't know if this is anything, but I've had a shit day. I don't know if a womb fixation is a thing, but I'm making it one. Anyway, if anyone has a vacant womb I can curl up in for the next 3-5 days, give me a call.

Wanda had gotten very good at knowing all of your tells: the way your hands trembled when you were hungry, how your gate changed just a little when you hadn’t gotten enough sleep, your nervous habit of whistling when your mind was racing with worries. Tonight, however, she didn’t even need her mama instincts to tell her you were upset. 

You shuffled into the living room in one of her hoodies. It was massive on you, trailing down your thighs so far the pajamas shorts you wore underneath weren’t visible. You chewed anxiously on one of the too-long-sleeves, fraying the cuffs. Wanda had tried to break the habit several times, especially given your affinity for stealing her clothes, but eventually she’d just surrendered to the fate of wearing jackets with chewed sleeves. 

“Baby,” she cooed sympathically. “What’s wrong? Come here, pumpkin. Tell mama what’s got you all worked up.” She tapped her thighs, ushering you gently onto her lap. 

You curled up against her immediately, tucking your knees to your chest and resting your head on her shoulder. Wanda gasped in surprise when your free hand found its way under the hem of her shirt and rested on her lower stomach. Your palm slid across her bare skin, to her hip, then traced its way back to her belly button. You silently caressed the skin there until she stopped you, stilling your hand with her own. 

She had known about this little habit of yours for a long time now. It was a fixation of sorts that seemed to come in waves: you’d go months without thinking about it, and then something would happen and suddenly you couldn’t keep away. Whether she was cooking, sitting on the couch, or even sleeping, your hands and eyes would always find their way right back to this specific spot right below her belly button, where stretch marks spanned from hip to hip after carrying her twins. 

After carrying her twins. Not you. 

“Sweetheart,” she whispered, already preparing to defend whatever nonsense was about to spew from your mouth about how you’d never really be hers. 

You finally pulled the sleeve you’d been chewing on from your mouth. She knew what you were going to say before you even opened her mouth, but the quiet, broken words never failed to pierce her heart regardless. 

“It’s not fair.”

She swallowed, tucking your head under her chin and rubbing your back through the thick material of the hoodie. “I know, baby,” she admitted. “I know it’s not.”

“I never got to be inside you,” you said. “I never got to be part of you. I was never connected to you. I was never your-“

“Don’t.” Wanda interrupted, firmly, but not unkindly. She would let you have your mourning. She would comfort you through each broken explanation of the indescribable longing in your heart. But she would not tolerate any implication that you were any less hers. 

You stiffened and pulled your hand from her stomach, instead grabbing her shirt in a tight fist. “I’m sorry,” you sniffed. 

She kissed the crown of your head. “It’s okay, darling,” she reassured. “I just need you to know that you have more of my heart than anyone else in the world. And nothing can change that. I love you so much.”

You nodded against her chest. “I know. I just…” you sniffled again, “I wish I were made of love, is all.”

You laid down on her lap, shifting your position so you were pressed up against her stomach in a tight ball. You grabbed a throw blanket from the couch and tossed it over your head. 

“Maybe we can pretend for a little bit,” you proposed quietly, muffled slightly by the blanket. “That I’m in your belly and… and you haven’t met me yet but you’re excited to. And you already love me so much.” You poked your head out of the blanket to look up at her. “Or we don’t have to… if it’s stupid.”

Wanda froze for a moment, but then a soft, sad smile spread across her face. It was a silly request, really. Nothing she said could change what actually happened. It would be nothing more than a fairytale. And yet, when your big eyes peered up into hers, she couldn’t bring herself to deny you. She couldn’t turn back the clock, but she could craft a narrative for you to carry with you. She pulled the blanket down over your head again, cocooning you against her. 

“We decided to wait, your father and I, to find out whether you’re a boy or girl,” she started, rubbing over the thick blanket in slow, soothing circles. “Your father thinks I’m crazy, because I tell everyone I already know you’re gonna be my little girl. I can just feel it.”

She shifted slightly, laying down on the couch so you could lay on her stomach. “I call you my rolly polly because you keep me up at night with all your rolling. The only thing that calms you down is my singing. It drives your dad crazy.”

“You sing to me?” You asked in a quiet, broken voice. 

“Of course I sing to you, angel,” she reassured. “I sing… lullabies mostly. But what seems to calm you down the most is my operatic cover of ‘The Middle’ by Jimmy Eat World.”

You giggled and the vibrations spread across her whole chest, warming her from the inside out. She pulled you closer. “I’m craving… ice cream and salt. Not together. Most of the time. I already know you’re a sweet tooth and I already can’t deny you a damn thing.”

She sits in silence for a minute, trying to gauge your reaction under the thick blanket. Then there’s a sniffle and another whispered question. “And… and you’re excited, right? This is something you wanted to happen.”

“Oh baby, I can hardly wait.” She doesn’t even need a moment to think about her answer. “I’ve taken up crochet and I’ve already made you a blanket and some little hats. Out of the softest yarn I could find. Only the best for my baby girl.”

“And then- when I came out- you weren’t disappointed were you?” You asked, voice trembling again. 

“Disappointed? Oh heavens no,” she nearly gasped. “The moment they laid you on my chest I knew you were better than I could’ve ever imagined. You were perfect. You are perfect. My angel. My miracle. My special girl. I have never been so happy to be anything as I am to be your mama.”

You poked your head out from under the blanket and uncurled yourself from your ball, resting your head on her chest. You could feel her heartbeat and the vibrations of her humming in her ribcage, soothing and melting away the last of your nerves. She could feel your muscles relax as she ran her nails up and down. She craned her neck upwards to kiss your head. “Rest, my love,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

You whined and buried your face in her chest. You could hardly keep your eyes open. She took your hand in hers and brought it to her collarbone, splaying your fingers out against the skin there.

"Goodnight, angel. I'll be here when you wake."

[farfromharry]

Baby fever | Oscar Piastri

Summary: Lando’s new baby gives Oscar and his girlfriend a horrible case of baby fever

w/c 1385

a/n once again ignoring so much that just happened cause i dont want to talk about it

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Oscar wasn’t brilliant with people. At first glance he was monotone and unapproachable. Even to those he would consider acquaintances, they would insist they didn’t really understand him. He wasn’t chatty or outgoing, he could be a little hard to make conversation with at times. Some people took it the wrong way, assuming he was rude or stuck up, but in reality he was just shy. 

When it came to children, he was even more clueless.

Sure he was the eldest of 4, he’d been around babies since he was a toddler, but that was different in his mind. His sisters were just… his sisters and that was years ago. But fans, other people’s kids, he didn’t know what to do with them, what did he say? What did children even like?

So when he was introduced to his teammate’s new baby for the first time, it was safe to say he panicked. The whole experience was terrifying. 

The Norris’ were extremely popular when they entered the garage that day, everyone dying to see the newborn currently in her dad’s arms. It was surreal for some of them. They had met Lando when he was still practically a child himself, an apprentice who they saw around the garage. They had watched him grow into this. A man, a fantastic driver, a winner, and now a dad. If he thought about it too long he got emotional himself.

Once the swarm around him and baby Norris had died down, he noticed that his teammate had been one of the only people not to approach. Oscar had seen the little girl on facetime when she was first born, but he hadn’t met her yet. Lando had thought he would have been more eager.

Admittedly, he was a little upset by it. His wife noticed quickly, she was good at reading him like that. “Go up to him. He probably just didn’t want to get in the way, you know how he is.” She rubbed his arm, cooing at the small baby who couldn’t stop staring at her. 

He knew she was right.

“Osc!” 

Oscar had been trying to avoid his gaze. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to meet baby Norris, he was just trying to put it off as long as possible. He didn’t want anything bad to happen. Like what if he dropped her? Or made her cry? 

He couldn’t avoid it forever.

He smiled at the approaching dad. The baby was cute, he had to admit that. “Hey.”

Lando’s grin was huge. Understandably, he was so proud of his daughter. “I’ve got someone for you to officially meet.” 

The Aussie thought he might be able to make it brief. Smile, say something about how cute she was, keep a respectable distance. Everything would be fine. 

He looked over his friend’s shoulder at the tiny baby, smiling fondly. “She’s lovely. You did good.” His eyes trailed over to Lando’s wife, not wanting to accidentally discredit the work she put in; it was certainly a lot more than what Lando did. “You too. You especially actually,” he corrected himself.

Obviously Lando couldn’t just let that one slide. “Hey, I helped.”

She huffed. “Yeah for like 5 seconds.”

That definitely wasn’t going to go down well. The Brit gasped, like she had said something truly horrifyingly horrible. “How dare you. We both know that it lasted–”

“Okay, little ears listening.” Really it was him that didn’t want to listen to his friends talking about their sex life, but thankfully he had a pretty good excuse to use against them. They  both rolled their eyes. That argument could be saved for later. As long as he didn’t have to listen to it, he didn’t really care. 

Lando’s attention turned back to him, the moment once again centered around the nameless Norris in her dad’s arms. “Do you want to hold her?” he asked. 

His heart dropped. This was the one thing he had hoped to avoid. “No, it’s okay. She looks pretty happy with you.”

Apparently his friend knew him a little too well. He grumbled, practically forcing the baby into his unwilling arms. He had to adjust his stance very quickly to make sure that she was secure, even though Lando would have never let her go unless he was certain Oscar had her. He wasn’t reckless like that.

Oscar’s heart was racing. Every one of his senses was heightened, scared of the tiniest thing that might disturb the tiny babe he was carrying. She could probably sense his fear. Well, that might be slightly dramatic. He didn’t know if babies could actually do that.

His eyes darted to Lando in his panic, something he couldn’t say he did often. “What do I do?” he asked.

Lando chuckled. His teammate was usually calm and collected in 98% of circumstances, he had never seen him so rattled. It was refreshing to know he got scared just like everyone else. However his downfall wasn’t their frequent 180mph speeds, it was a tiny little month old baby instead. “You just talk to her, Osc. She had no idea what you’re saying so it doesn’t really matter what you say.” 

He nodded, but his eyes were still wide and frantic. This was one challenge he didn’t know how to face. “Okay. I can do this.” She was staring right at him, a tiny smile on her face. His heart clenched. “Hi. I’m Oscar.” 

His teammate snorted in the background, but was silenced by a quick swat to the chest by his wife. She mouthed something about not being mean, but he just missed it. Oscar looked at them both, mainly her for reassurance because he knew too well he wouldn’t get it from Lando. She was happy to provide.

“You’re doing great, keep going.” 

He looked back down at her, letting out a breath that relaxed his body a little bit. “You really are cute, aren’t you?” She made a little gurgling noise that positively melted his heart. It showed on his face too, in the way his eyes softened and his eyebrows relaxed. Lando caught it, nudging the woman beside him so she could see it too. Who knew all it would take was a little baby to break down his stoic walls. 

The mother awed silently, resting her head on her husband’s shoulder as they watched the pair get familiar. Her postpartum hormones were still wild, so the chances of bursting into tears over a cute sight were very high. 

“You’re a natural,” Lando said.

Oscar grinned. It looked like that comment meant a lot more to him than the Brit had thought it would. He was lost in a daze as he gazed down at the small baby. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. He was so focused that he didn’t notice the approaching figure, or the smiles on his friend’s faces. How could one little baby make his heart feel like this?

“We might’ve pulled your man over to the dark side.” 

That snapped him out of his trance. His head turned and his eyes met yours. A smile broke out on his face, similar to the one on yours that came from seeing him with the baby. There was a silent understanding in the way you looked at one another. Such a simple act had just changed so much for you. 

You practically glued yourself to his side, resting your head on his shoulder, looking down at the bundle of pure joy. “Oh yeah? Is that true, Osc?” Your eyes flickered up to his face. 

He was already grinning when he looked down at you. “‘Fraid so. Think I suddenly have a horrible touch of baby fever.” You couldn’t say you blamed him when she looked like that. The thoughts of a mini you and Oscar were all that were running through your mind now. And you didn’t think it was such a bad idea after all. 

He knew you too well. He could see it in your eyes that you were just as excited as he was about this. It wasn’t that he’d never wanted kids. They just hadn’t been a priority to him. Now though? He was rethinking that. You both were. 

Lando Norris had just created something dangerous within his friends.

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[wandascrush]

If I’d Told You

Pairing: Ellie Williams x f!reader

Summary: You and your best friend, Ellie, argue on patrol- of course her smartass finds a way to make it up to you

Warnings: Arguing, cursing, kissing, fluff, Ellie being a smartass, first date vibes

A/N: This is my first time writing for Ellie, I enjoyed it and I hope you do too <3

The building looms slanted against the skyline—windows shattered, half its sign hanging by a rusted chain. Something about it doesn’t feel right, but of course you’re already walking toward it like you own the place. Ellie is quick to follow behind you.

“I’ll go first,” you say, casual.

“Like hell you are,” Ellie snaps.

You turn on your heels. “Why not?”

She shrugs, a little too stiff. “Because I said so.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m older.”

“By, what, six months?”

“Still counts.”

You smirk. “You’re just mad ‘cause I beat you at target practice yesterday.”

Ellie scoffs. “You got lucky.”

“Five bullseyes is not luck. That’s talent, idiot. How many months in a row have I beat you now?”

She mutters something under her breath that might be “show-off” or “fuckin’ cute”. Hard to tell. You step up to the doorway, peeking inside. Ellie grabs your elbow before you cross the threshold.

“Seriously. Lemme go first.”

You tilt your head, quirking your eyebrow, “Why?” A part of you knew why, but you still wanted her to say it. Wanted her to admit that you’re not alone in what you’ve been feeling for her these past two years.

She was your best friend, but you wanted more.

Ellie pauses. It’s just long enough to mean something.

“…Fine. I give up.”

She lets go of your arm. “You go. Not like I care or anything.”

You arch a brow. “Wow. That sounded incredibly convincing.”

She glares. “Whatever. If you die, I’m not dragging your body back.”

“So you do care.”

“Shut up. Not like you’d be the first body anyway,” she mumbles, suddenly hyper-focused on her backpack straps.

Something about the way she says it so casually hurts your chest, almost makes you whince. You get quiet.

Ellie yawns, “Well…ya goin in there or is someone too chicken shit?”

Your eyes shoot her a sharp glance, “Don’t be an asshole, Williams.”

Williams. That was the special name you reserved for her when she pissed you off, and boy did she know it.

——————————-

You’re riding side by side, hooves crunching dead leaves, but the air feels quieter. You haven’t said much since before entering the building.

Ellie keeps glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. Like she wants to say something. Like she’s chewing on it.

“Sooo…you mad at me?”

What she said, about the bodies, wasn’t supposed to bother you But for some reason, it did. It made you feel like just another corpse.

You shrug.

“I dunno. Are you mad at me?”

She groans under her breath, dragging a hand down her face “Fuck. No. I’m not. I was just being—dumb. Overprotective or whatever.”

You look over at her, smirking, “What was that?”

“I didn’t mean to be a dick,” she says, softer. “I just—you going in there alone made me freak out a little. And instead of, like, being normal about it… I acted like an asshole.”

“So yeah. Sorry,” Ellie kicks a chunk of gravel, “but uh… to make up for it, I was thinking… maybe later, after patrol, you could come by the church basement?”

You raise a brow, hopping off of your horse and walking it the rest of the way, “…For confession?”

She snorts. “No idiot. You know me better than that. For music.”

“Music?”

“Yeah. I fixed that busted speaker Joel gave me. Found some tapes. Thought you might wanna—hang out. Eat shitty ration snacks. Figured maybe we could… I dunno. Listen to something. If you’re not busy or whatever.”

Her voice cracks halfway through the sentence. She hides it by messing with the rocks again.

You’re not sure what’s cuter—Ellie trying to act like this isn’t a date, or the fact that she’s clearly been working on this just for you, “You fixed this?”

“Yeah, well. Tried to. Joel taught me some stuff. And… you like music, so?”

“So it’s a date.”

She grins, looking down. You think she might actually explode if you called this a date again. Her cheeks flush red as she scratches the back of her neck, “I mean—only if you want it to be. Or not. Whatever.”

You let her fumble for a second, then nudge her shoulder gently.

“It’s a date. You could’ve just said that.”

Ellie looks at you—really looks at you—and her whole face softens.

“I thought you’d laugh if I’d told you…but cool. Yeah. Cool.” She doesn’t stop smiling the rest of the walk.

————————-

Church basement- 8 pm

Ellie kneels by the speaker, fiddling with a clunky cassette player until a low hum fills the store. It clicks. The sound is staticky but warm. Some old song from before the world went to hell—slow, kind of dreamy.

“I found this tape in the back. Figured it sounded like something you’d like. Or like… I don’t know. Maybe I liked it ‘cause I thought of you.”

She definitely didn’t mean to say that part out loud. Ellie goes so red. She scratches the back of her neck, her fingers twitching like they’re looking for something to hold on to. She finds her guitar instead.

You let it sit there for a second. Then you lean against the display case beside her, real close. Your breath ghosts over her shoulder- you know what you do to her.

“You thought of me?”

“Ugh. You’re so annoying. Forget I said that.”

But you don’t. You never will.

⸻

You two sit cross-legged on the floor, passing a shared can of peaches like it’s fine wine. Her knee brushes yours. She doesn’t move away. A few songs in, she gets a little brave—starts humming under her breath. Trying to play a few cords.

“You’ve got a good voice,” you say.

“Shut up.”

“I mean it.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re trying to make me quiet again.”

You smirk, crawling across the floor and resting your head in the space between her thighs to look up at her.

“Is it working?”

It is. So fucking much. She can practically hear the beat of her heart against her ribs and her hands feel all tingly. But she doesn’t answer.

She just smiles, soft and small, and reaches out—slow, unsure—and lets her thumb trace the curve of your bottom lip.

Your breath catches. Your heart trips. Now you’re the blushing mess, trying not to look up at her like you used to. Ellie catches your shyness in a second- turns your head back to her gently, “Don’t let your eyes wander anywhere else, pretty girl.”

She leans down slowly, her nose brushing yours- you just lean in and meet her halfway. The kiss is soft, clumsy, and perfect in its hesitation. You sit up to face her head on and her strong hands quickly find your jaw, shaky and warm.

And for a second, the world goes completely still. No infected. No guns. No patrol. Just her and you and this basement, and this kiss. You smile into it, brushing your nose against hers. Soft hands press against the middle of her chest, “Your hearts beating fast, Williams.”

“Williams? What, you’re mad at me now?” Ellie grins.

“Furthest thing from it,” and you lean in for another kiss.

[ddreamhhollows]

⋮ ⌗ ┆ WARM HANDS ,, itoshi rin

⸻ ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑡𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑙, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢

𖹭.ᐟ itoshi rin xx gn﹗reader 𖹭.ᐟ fluff,, soft rin,, soft moments,, comfort,, established relationship,, head massage,, mentions of headache/exhaustion,, very soft content 𖹭.ᐟ word count :: 1495 ౨ৎ 【bllk masterlist】

the apartment is dim when you finally drag yourself through the front door, your head pounding with the kind of tension headache that feels like someone's slowly tightening a vice around your skull.

the day had been bruta, and you were too tired for any shits that could happen now.

you drop your bag by the door and lean against it for a moment, eyes closed, trying to will away the throbbing behind your temples.

"you look like shit."

rin's voice cuts through the quiet, and you open your eyes to find him standing in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed, that familiar slight frown creasing his brow. but there's concern in his teal eyes, the kind he tries to hide behind blunt observations.

"thanks," you mumble, toeing off your shoes. "really know how to make a person feel welcome."

"i'm serious." he steps closer, and you can see the way his gaze tracks over your face, cataloging the exhaustion in your features. "when's the last time you slept properly? or ate something that wasn't from a vending machine?"

you want to give him a sarcastic response, but honestly, you can't remember. the past few days have been a blur of stress, and now your body is demanding payment for the abuse.

"my head is killing me," you admit instead, pressing the heel of your palm against your forehead. "feels like someone's hitting my skull hard from the inside."

rin's frown deepens, and for a moment he just stands there, like he's weighing his options. then, so quietly you almost miss it, he says, "sit down."

"what?"

"on the couch. sit down." his voice is gruff, but there's something softer underneath it. "i can... if you want, i could..."

he trails off, his ears going slightly pink, and you realize he's actually embarrassed about whatever he's trying to offer.

"what is it, rin?"

"head massage," he mutters, looking anywhere but at you. "helps with tension headaches. improves blood flow, reduces muscle strain in the neck and scalp. it's practical."

the clinical way he describes it makes you want to smile, despite the pain radiating through your head. of course rin would frame a tender gesture in terms of sports medicine and practical benefits.

"you don't have to—"

"do you want me to or not?" he cuts you off, but there's no bite to it. if anything, he sounds almost... hopeful?

you study his face for a moment. behind the gruff exterior and the embarrassed flush, you can see genuine concern, genuine desire to help ease your pain. and honestly, the idea of his hands in your hair sounds like heaven right now.

"okay," you say softly. "yeah, that would be nice."

something in his expression relaxes, and he nods once, sharp and decisive. "couch. now."

you settle into the corner of the sofa, and rin disappears for a moment before returning with a glass of water and two painkillers.

"take these first," he says, pressing them into your palm. "they'll help with the inflammation."

"very well, doctor rinnie," then you do as he says, and rin is settling behind you on the couch, his long legs bracketing your body. you can feel the warmth of him at your back, solid and reassuring.

"this okay?" he asks, his voice quieter now.

"yeah."

his hands hover over your head for just a moment, like he's psyching himself up, and then his fingers are threading through your hair, and oh.

oh, this is nice.

rin's hands are exactly what you'd expect from a professional athlete. they're strong, sure, with calluses from years of training. but they're impossibly gentle as they work through your hair, fingertips pressing careful circles against your scalp.

"your shoulders are completely locked up," he murmurs, and you can hear the frown in his voice. "how long have you been carrying stress like this?"

"a long time," you admit, already feeling some of the tension start to melt away under his touch.

his thumbs find the base of your skull, working small circles into the tight muscles there, and you can't help the soft sound that escapes you. it's half relief, half pure bliss, and you feel rin's hands still for just a moment.

"that good?" he asks, and there's something almost smug in his tone, like he's pleased with himself for making you feel better.

"mhmm." you lean back into his touch, letting your eyes drift closed.

"better?" he asks after a few minutes, his voice softer than before.

"so much better." you let your head fall back against his shoulder, and you feel him tense slightly at the contact. "don't stop."

"wasn't planning to," he mutters, but you can hear the fondness creeping into his tone despite his best efforts.

his hands continue their gentle work, fingers combing through your hair, nails scratching lightly against your scalp in a way that sends pleasant shivers down your spine.

the headache is fading to a dull ache, replaced by a drowsy contentment that makes your limbs feel heavy.

"you're really good at this," you murmur, words slightly slurred with relaxation.

rin makes a noncommittal sound, but you can feel the way his chest puffs up slightly with pride.

"just... don't expect me to do this all the time," he says, but there's no conviction behind it. his fingers are still moving through your hair with infinite patience, like he could keep doing this for hours.

"wouldn't dream of it," you tease, and you feel rather than see his eye roll.

"you're such a pain," he grumbles, but his touch grows even softer, thumb tracing gentle patterns behind your ear.

the combination of his warmth at your back, the rhythmic motion of his fingers, and the gradual easing of your headache is making you drowsy.

you can feel yourself starting to drift, lulled by the steady sound of rin's breathing and the tender way he's taking care of you.

"hey," he says quietly, noticing the way you're going limp against him. "don't fall asleep on me."

"can't help it," you mumble. "too comfortable."

rin goes very still for a moment, and you wonder if you've said something wrong. but then his hands resume their gentle ministrations, and you feel him settle more comfortably against the couch cushions.

"just... don't tell anyone about this," he says, so quietly you almost miss it.

"about what? the head massage?"

"about me being..." he pauses, struggling with the words. "soft. or whatever."

you turn your head slightly to look at him, and the expression on his face makes your chest tight with affection. he looks vulnerable, almost embarrassed by his own gentleness, like caring for you is something to be ashamed of.

"rin," you say softly. "there's nothing wrong with being gentle. especially not with me." you said cheekily.

his ears go pink again, and he looks away. "it's not... i don't usually..."

"i know." you reach up to cover one of his hands with yours, squeezing gently.

he doesn't respond to that, but his fingers curl around yours for just a moment before he goes back to playing with your hair. the touch is softer now, less about the massage and more about simple comfort, simple connection.

"your headache?" he asks after a while.

"almost gone." you let your eyes drift closed again, savoring the feeling of his hands in your hair. "this is perfect."

rin hums quietly, and you can hear the satisfaction in the sound. his fingers continue their gentle exploration, occasionally catching on a small tangle and working it loose with careful patience.

"you need to take better care of yourself," he says eventually, his voice quiet and serious. "this kind of stress... it's not sustainable."

"i'll try to do better," you promise, and you mean it.

"good." his fingers trace along the shell of your ear, making you shiver. "because i'm not good at... at taking care of people. but with you, i want to be."

the admission is quiet, vulnerable, and you feel your heart squeeze tight with affection for this complicated, caring man.

"you're better at it than you think," you tell him. "this? what you're doing right now? it's exactly what i needed."

rin doesn't respond with words, but his touch grows impossibly softer, fingers threading through your hair with reverent gentleness.

and maybe that's answer enough. the way he holds you like you're something precious, the way he sets aside his own discomfort with tenderness because your comfort matters more.

you drift in and out of a light doze, vaguely aware of rin's hands never stopping their gentle motion, of the way he shifts occasionally to make sure you're comfortable against him.

at some point, you think you feel him press a soft kiss to the top of your head, but you're too drowsy to be sure.

what you are sure of is the way he holds you. carefully, protectively, like you're the most important thing in his world.

i was blushing while writing this...

© 2025 ddreamhhollows

[nothoughtsjustficrecs]

Review Written for The K-Fic Collection.

I truly loved every moment of this! It was so fun and light and cute but still had the serious drama flavour to really keep things interesting! Eternal summer romance with Soonyoung sounds like the ideal life after this tbh

Thank you for writing this lovely story and sharing it with us!

When I was reading, I decided to write down my thoughts as I go, as I knew I'd forget otherwise. Below this is literally just the thoughts I wrote down because I do not have the brain power to convert them into actual fully coherent comments [I'll put them below a read more cut for the sake of spoilers and such].

-

“ “I don’t have to follow the rules, just enforce them – so once the kids are asleep, I can do whatever I want!” ” oh, the innocence

“ What could be better than running around, doing fun activities, and helping kids have the best time ever? ” not running around sounds better to me tbh, but to each their own

“ campfires and s’mores ” okay, that part sounds fun. Well, the campfire, idk what smores taste like but I assume very good

“ “Okay, how about this – if you have a summer fling with a hot, mysterious camp counsellor that you never see again, I’ll consider your summer better than ours.” ” so fair

“ “When I was a kid, I used to write diary entries every day at camp wishing for a passionate summer romance with another camper,” ” okay, that made me snort for some reason

“ You dramatically fall back into your seat in mock despair. ” legit loving her character

“ “True romance only comes when you’re not expecting it.” ” Oooh foreshadowing

“ “To be honest, I think you’ll be too busy looking for frogs to look for a prince. You wouldn’t realise someone was into you if they hit you round the head with it.” Emma snorts.

“Yeah, yeah – that was one time!”

“The frogs or the crush?” ” actually wheezing

“ It takes your brain a moment to compute that you recognise his face.

Oh, God. ” the laugh I let out though omg

“ He smiles, running a hand through his hair and you can’t help but look at the flex of his biceps as he does. ” understandable

“ “You'll probably be working with me, Ace, or Hoshi mostly.” ” HOSHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

“ “You haven’t met Old Bill yet,” ” I don’t know why, but “old bill” immediately made me giggle.

“ He says a little shyly. ” PRECIOUS SHY BABIE!!!

“ There’s a wildness to him that’s completely different from the almost shy guy you met earlier. ” he’s a man of many sides 😌

“ He was hoping that some extroverted kid may pick him up and carry him into a social group ” that’s always the hope

“ He can admit in hindsight that, by the end of that summer, he’d had a huge crush on you. ” aww, precious babie 🥺

“ but for some reason it’s your daring co-leader that is taking up all the space in your mind. ” I really get it

“ “I don’t know if you realise it, but you’ve already got most of us hooked. That hot chocolate is just the cherry on top.” ” SCREAMING

“ “I don’t just like it,” he teases, his voice dropping slightly. “I think you just made my day.” ” oh, I think I’m going to combust before this story is over

“ You’re already hopeless at telling friendliness from flirting, and you certainly aren’t used to these little compliments, and it’s all too much for you to handle. ” so fucking relatable omg

“ and you have to stop yourself from staring at his face for too long when you’re together. ” 😂 but so real

“ “Peps.” ” peps! That’s so fucking cute 🥺

“ “But if it means I get to see you smile like that … then I’ll take it.” ” I shall soon cease to exist and just letting you know, it’s your fault. I am too weak for this man

“ He’s been quieter the past few days, but you can’t help but notice the way he sneaks glances at you when he thinks you aren’t looking. ” 🥺

“ “Thanks – you killed it in the dance battle. I think you’re lucky you already have a nickname or they’d start calling you ‘the sprinkler’.” ” omg, the sprinkler 😂

“ “Have you ever had a crush on anyone here?” ” be like “yeah, you” 😘

“ You watch, frozen, as he turns away, leaving you standing there with a knot in your chest. ” :((

“ “Well, if you want to vent or throw pinecones at him or something, let me know. I’ll back you up.” ” throw pinecones at him 😂

“ “You’re going to find that boy, force him to talk to you, and then jump his bones” ” sounds like a plan to me!

“ “Soonyoung should go.” Gecko pipes in, and you see her giving you a look in your peripheral vision. ” ah, we do love a supportively schemeing friend

“ “Because I was scared,” he admits quietly, his eyes meeting yours. “I didn’t want that version of me to affect how you see me now. I’ve changed, and I didn’t want to mess up whatever this is by dredging up the past.” ” poor baby :((

“ The moment is gone, and Soonyoung is already slipping away again. ” PULL HIM BACK!

“ but the door to the breaker room creaks open, and Mingyu’s voice echoes down the hallway. ” who cares?! PULL! HIM! BACK!!!

“ “You’ve gotta stop running. Go talk to her. Be honest. Otherwise, you’re going to lose her before you even get the chance.” ” YOU TELL ‘IM, GYU!

“ Soonyoung reaches out to push your hair out of your eyes, his hands lingering on the sides of your face. He completely interrupts your rant, causing you to freeze. Your eyes are wider than he thought was physically possible, lips still parted in a half-finished sentence.

The moment is here now, and he’s going to be brave. “I like you, (Y/n), much more than as friends.” ” AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

Echoes of Summer

Pairings: Kwon Soonyoung x fem!reader, suggestions of Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genres: fluff, angst, camp counsellors AU, sunshine x sunshine

Warnings: drinking, profanities, mentions of sex

Word Count: 18.7k

Summary: Get ready for the most unforgettable summer yet at Camp Logan, where lifelong memories are made, friendships are strengthened, and old crushes make new appearances.

In the backseat of your best friend’s pink Honda Jazz, with Britney and Fergie blasting on the radio and wind rushing through your hair from the rolled-down windows – it has never felt more like summer break.

As you speed down the highway, Emma turns around from the passenger seat to offer you a sip of her Spire remix, which you eagerly accept.

“Are we getting close?” She yells over the music.

You nod as you gulp down the fizzy drink, unable to respond with your mouth full. Unfolding the map beside you, you check the upcoming junction.

“Yeah! I think it’s only three more junctions?” You reply, grinning with excitement.

“Seeing how pumped you are right now almost makes me jealous,” Jane laughs from the driver’s seat, catching your eye in the rearview mirror. “Except, then I remember you’re going to summer camp as an adult, without getting to do any of the cool stuff.”

“That’s not true!” You gasp, feigning offence. “I don’t have to follow the rules, just enforce them – so once the kids are asleep, I can do whatever I want!”

“Oh, you’re adorable.” Emma chuckles. “Those kids are gonna wear you our so much, you’ll be asleep before they are.”

You pout at her, huffing in disagreement.

Sure, being a camp leader might not be everyone’s idea of a great summer, but they at least have to admit that it would be fun. What could be better than running around, doing fun activities, and helping kids have the best time ever?

Well, Jane and Emma would probably argue that their trip to Majorca would be more fun – but you’re convinced that they’re underestimating just how awesome campfires and s’mores can be.

“Okay, how about this – if you have a summer fling with a hot, mysterious camp counsellor that you never see again, I’ll consider your summer better than ours.”

You snort at the suggestion, a bit of the fizz going up your nose, making you sneeze.

“When I was a kid, I used to write diary entries every day at camp wishing for a passionate summer romance with another camper,” You admit after a moment. “It was always about the same kid – Kim Mingyu – we went every year, and I think I ended up talking to him all of twice?”

“Wow, new (Y/n) lore! That explains why you’re such a hopeless loser when it comes to crushes.” Emma teases.

“I can’t even deny it!” You dramatically fall back into your seat in mock despair. “It’s hard being a hopeless romantic in a world where everyone else is so … practical.”

Jane chuckles, shifting her seat as she glances at you in the mirror. “You say that now, but just wait. True romance only comes when you’re not expecting it.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help but smile at the thought. “You two are just setting me up for disappointment. What if all the other counsellors are, like, sixty?”

“Then you’ll get some great life advice,” Emma quips, twisting around to give you a playful grin.

“Besides, age is just a number!” Jane adds, waggling her eyebrows suggestively and making you all burst into laughter.

“To be honest, I think you’ll be too busy looking for frogs to look for a prince. You wouldn’t realise someone was into you if they hit you round the head with it.” Emma snorts.

“Yeah, yeah – that was one time!”

“The frogs or the crush?”

“Alright! We can’t all be Casanova’s now can we? Besides, you’re probably right – I do plan on going frog catching and it might take a while.”

You lean backwards, posing with crossed arms and a nodding head. Your pretence at coolness is unfortunately cut off quickly, as Jane slams the car down the junction exit that she’d almost missed, toppling you back into your seat.

A chorus of giggles explodes in the car.

“Do you think you’re going to be able to survive on your own for a month?” Jane chortles.

“The real question is – do you think you’re going to be able to survive a month without me?” You respond, playfully patting her shoulder.

“It’s going to be tough.” Emma agrees with mock seriousness, although you can feel the tender truth to her words. “Luckily, we’ll have sexy Spanish men and bottles of champagne to drown our sorrows in.”

The road in front of you becomes narrower, winding through dense woods, and the familiar scent of pine fills the air.

“That’s it!” You exclaim, sitting up straighter, your heart beating a little faster.

As the camp entrance comes into view, marked by a large wooden sign that reads ‘Camp Logan’, you can’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation. It’s been just under a decade since you were last here, and everything feels exactly the same as you remember.

The car pulls up to the inlet at the start of the woodchip trail leading into the camp. Leaning all the way forward, you embrace your two friends in a long hug, thanking them for dropping you off and cracking up at the almost sombre mood caused by your departure.

Stepping out, you reach for your trunk from the rails on top of the car, pulling it down with ease.

You wave your friends off as they speed away, leaving fading declarations of love as they go. The reality of being on your own sinks in as the dust from their departure settles on the gravel road. You take a deep breath, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, trying to steady the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

The entrance to camp looms ahead, a rustic wooden archway adorned with carvings of pine trees and woodland creatures. The path is just as you remember, lined with tall, towering pines that stretch up into the bright blue sky.

You can hear faint laughter and the distant sound of campers running about, already immersed in their summer adventure. The excitement you felt during the drive here is still there, but it’s now tempered with a hint of anxiety. What if you don’t fit in with the other counsellors? What if the kids are too much to handle?

The doubts creep in, but you shake your head, pushing them away. This is what you’ve been waiting for—a summer of new experiences, challenges, and maybe even that elusive summer romance your friends teased you about.

As you approach the main lodge, you catch sight of a group of counsellors gathered on the porch, laughing and chatting as they prepare for the week ahead. They seem at ease, already forming bonds that you hope to become a part of. You watch them for a moment, taking in the scene, before a voice behind you interrupts your thoughts.

“Hey there, you must be the new arrival!”

You turn to see a tall, athletic guy with sun-kissed skin and a friendly smile walking toward you. He’s wearing a camp T-shirt and cargo shorts, his camp name, “Frosty,” stitched onto his shirt in bold green letters.

It takes your brain a moment to compute that you recognise his face.

Oh, God.

You look up to the sky for a second, sending a silent SOS as the sun shines down on you, leaving you nowhere to escape. You can feel shock flooding through your body, and you’re struggling to even reply.

“Kim Mingyu?”

The man’s eyebrows shoot upwards, and it’s clear you’ve taken him aback too. You stare at other for a moment, before realisation dawns across his features and he lets out a loud laugh, reaching forward to grab your shoulder.

“Oh my god, (Y/n) (Y/l/n)! I should have known you’d be back here! You’re even wearing the same outfit that you used to wear!”

You peer down at your old camp tee, little denim shorts, and hiking boots, your hair twirled with twine and ribbon into two plaits, feeling a little embarrassed that he’d immediately clocked your effort to recreate your camper days.

“Well if it helped you recognise me, then I’m glad I wore it!” You stammer, releasing a nervous laugh. “Would have been awkward if you hadn’t remembered me but I remembered you.”

Mingyu laughs in response, nodding his head, and you’re grateful that the calm, friendly demeanour he had as a kid is still alive and well.

“I’m meant to give you a tour and get you set up, but I suppose you won’t really need it.” He smiles, running a hand through his hair and you can’t help but look at the flex of his biceps as he does.

“Oh – um, I suppose a refresher wouldn’t hurt!”

He nods, and points over to the right side of the clearing. “Okay, well, your cabin is just that one over there, with the three on it. Let me know when you’re all set up and I’ll introduce you to the other counsellors and we can catch up!”

You thank him, and practically sprint away into the cabin.

The wooden cabin of the counsellors is not far different than the camper’s cabins, although notably nicer smelling and less beds. There are three bunks inside, with chests and small side cabinets to keep possessions on. The floor is covered in a green rug, and you can see that two of the other bunks already have unpacked belongings next to them.

You let out a shaky breath, steading your racing mind as you sit down on the empty bed. You can practically hear Emma and Jane laughing at you, and decide that you’d text them the moment you know they’ve landed from their flight.

Kim Mingyu? Seriously? It is like the universe decided to play a cruel joke on you. It’s not like you still have a crush on him, even if he has grown up well, but even the flash from the past has rattled you entirely.

“Alrighty, so over here we have the other lead counsellors – Ace and Fairy. These guys are the ones to find if you need anything; they’ll be far more helpful than me.”

“Hi, I’m (Y/n)!” You greet them, waving.

“Gonna have to get you a camp nickname before the kids hear your actual name and refuse to call you anything else!” The taller person, Ace, jokes. Their short sandy blonde hair is pushed back by a black band, and they sport the same camp t-shirt as Mingyu, with a pair of long khaki cargo pants.

To their side, Fairy stands, giving you a friendly wave back. She, unlike the others, is wearing her camp t-shirt as a bandeau under dungarees shorts that are only strapped on one side.

“That’s a fair point – have you got something in mind or do you want us to give you one?” Mingyu nods thoughtfully.

“Oh, that’s so exciting!” You beam as you look over at Ace and Fairy, still unable to meet Mingyu’s gaze. “I used to love the idea of having a special nickname when I was a kid!”

“I think ‘sunshine’ would do the trick,” Fairy snorts. You feel a blush tickling your neck at the suggestion, and you wonder if your positivity is rubbing off the wrong way.

“We’ll put that one on the maybe list,” Mingyu laughs, holding out a hand to gesture to where you’re walking next.

“Over by the lake are all the kids' cabins. We've got somewhere around 100 campers at the moment, but a few more will join us in the later weeks. Obviously, all the water activities will be done from the dock over there - do you remember what sort of stuff you signed up to run?"

"All of the outdoorsy ones, I think."

"Okay, cool. You'll probably be working with me, Ace, or Hoshi mostly. The counsellor toilets are just round that corner there; they're hidden out of sight so that the kids don't get confused, but you'll need the code to get in anyways. Over there is the mess hall, as you probably remember. Last year they moved a bunch of the arts and crafts stuff into the left wing of the building, so that might be a little different, but the dance, music, and other indoor activities are still in the west building. The admin office, infirmary, and camp store are all in that building over there - you should pop by something today just to say hello to Laura and Maureen - they're super nice but they like to know who's in camp at all times! And finally, all of the sports fields, woodland areas, and the outdoor theatre are over to the east of the lake. You got all that?"

"I think so! It seems mostly the same?" You smile nervously.

Mingyu seems far less concerned about it all. “Great! So, how have you been? It must be almost a decade since I last saw you!”

You feel slightly overwhelmed by trying to catalogue your life over the last few years into a few sentences.

“I’m good!”

That’s a good start.

“I’ll be starting my third year of university in September, and I’m studying geography, but I think I might do teacher training afterwards. I’m not really sure – but, I guess this summer will be a great tester! Um, I took up knitting in June? Oh – and I’m so excited to be back! Can’t wait to be back out on the lake! How about you?”

Good enough.

 “Oh nice – I could definitely see you as a teacher, you always were one of the nicest campers in our cohort.” Mingyu smiles genuinely, and you feel yourself blushing again. “I’ve been a counsellor here for a few years now; I’ve been doing it since I started university. Don’t judge me, but I am studying business – hoping that the camp counsellor label cancels out the bad reputation though!”

You laugh, nodding. “It’s a bit of a stretch, but I think you’ll get away with it.”

“Glad I have your approval,” he chuckles, shooting you a toothy grin. “Here, lets go to the hall and you can meet some of the other counsellors.”

“Where did ‘Frosty’ come from, by the way?” You ask, curious, as you both walk towards the entrance to the mess hall.

Mingyu hums, glancing at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Ah, the infamous nickname story. It’s actually not as cool as you might think,” he begins, pushing open the heavy doors to the hall. The scent of wood, faintly mixed with lingering hints of breakfast, wafts out to greet you.

“It was my first year here as a counsellor. I was super eager to make a good impression, but on the first morning of camp, I didn’t realise just how cold the lake water could be at dawn. So, during the early canoe session, I jumped in to show the kids that it was ‘no big deal’.” He pauses, shaking his head at the memory.

“And?” You prompt, intrigued by the story.

“And I came out so cold that I was shivering, my lips were practically blue, and my skin had turned icy. One of the kids started calling me ‘Frosty’ and the name just stuck. I guess it was better than being called ‘shivers’ or something worse.” He adds with a laugh, his cheeks reddening slightly.

You giggle, imagining the scene. “That’s actually a great origin story. It’s kind of endearing.”

“It’s grown on me.” Mingyu admits.

You both step into the mess hall. The room is spacious, filled with long wooden tables and benches, with large windows on one side letting in the afternoon light. A group of counsellors are gathered near the front, some arranging supplies with others chat animatedly.

As Mingyu leads you over, the chatter quiets down slightly, and all eyes turn to you.

“Alright, everyone, this is (Y/n), our newest counsellor. Be nice and don’t scare them off on their first day,” He teases, and the group chuckles.

One by one, they introduce themselves, each with their own unique nickname story. From what you can remember, there’s Hatter, whose nickname is cryptically based on the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland, Sparks, who’s the go-to guy for anything involving campfires or fireworks, and Gecko, who is in charge of the art station in camp.

“Welcome to the team, (Y/n)!” Sparks says, tipping his baseball cap at you.

“Thanks, everyone! I’m really excited to be here.” You reply, basking in the warm reception.

Mingyu gives you a nod, clearly pleased. “I’ll leave you to get acquainted. Feel free to explore more, just be back for dinner at 6!”

As Mingyu heads off to tend to other duties, the counsellors start to chat to you, sharing stories and giving you tips for surviving your first week. You quickly learn that despite their laid-back appearances, they all share a deep love for the camp and seem as dedicated as you to making it an unforgettable experience for the campers.

“I pitched scuba diving at this year’s council, but it got vetoed.” Hatter grumbles.

Gecko scoffs, crossing her arms. “The only thing interesting in that lake is the random shit that kids throw in – that’s if you can see anything at all.”

“Were you the one that vetoed it?!”

“I suggested creating a camp newspaper,” Sparks interjects, cutting through the bickering. “And since it wasn’t a safety hazard, they decided to include it this year.”

“That’s really cool! And the kids can send them back to their parents to let them know what they've been up to!" You gush, imagining how much fun it would have been to have that option when you were a camper.

"You always get your projects picked!" Hatter sighs, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"First of all, that's not true." Sparks says, rolling his eyes. "And second, mine wasn't the only idea to get picked. Hoshi got his star gazing sessions, remember?"

It dawns on you that you still haven’t met all of the counsellors. The thought must be clear on your face, as Gecko turns to you and asks: “Have you met Hoshi yet?”

You shake your head. “No, I’ve only met you guys, Min – sorry, Frosty, Fairy, and Ace. Are there any other counsellors I haven’t met?” You have to force yourself to use Mingyu’s camp name so that you don’t let his real name slip in front of the kids.

“You haven’t met Old Bill yet, but he’ll be holed up in the music room.” Sparks replies, visibly ticking off names in his head. “And aside from him and Hoshi, the rest are arriving tomorrow.”

"Oh! Speaking of which - Frosty mentioned I should check in with Laura and Maureen, so I might go do that now?" You exclaim, remembering Mingyu’s advice. The group nods and waves as you head off. Feeling good about the other counsellors, your earlier apprehensions fade, leaving you with a growing sense of joy at being back in camp.

That afternoon, you wander over to the main building, making sure to pop into both the infirmary and the head office. At dinner, you sit amongst the kids, starting to get to know their names and faces and hoping to make a good impression in return. You return to your cabin afterwards, fondly thinking about your start to camp. You're sharing your dorm with Gecko and Fairy, and the three of you spent the evening chatting and getting to know each other over a bottle of gin that Fairy had sneaked into camp - which had felt rather scandalous to you.

When you get a chance, you shoot a text off from your flip phone to Emma and Jane, reminding them not to call because you didn’t want to discuss the situation in front of your new cabinmates.

You have to stifle a laugh as you receive their elated replies, and almost block Emma for the R-rated suggestions she leaves in your inbox.

Snuggling down that night, you wonder if you might finally get the second chance you’d dreamed of as a kid.

The next morning, you’re practically bouncing with excitement as you make your way towards the camp’s rope course. The first day of camp is always the best. You’ve been looking forward to getting into the activities ever since you got the job, and climbing was always your favourite as a kid. There’s something about heights, the thrill of adventure, that speaks to the childlike wonder still alive in you.

The sun is already warming the air, but there’s a cool breeze filtering through the pine trees that keeps the camp feeling fresh. You cannot wait to start creating memories with the campers.

As you approach the ropes course, you spot a figure standing near the gear shack, fiddling with a bundle of harnesses. He’s tall, lean, and has a shock of platinum hair that contrasts against the dark forest. As he turns around, you are left a little starstruck by the handsome face that greets you, and you have to remind yourself that you don’t have to crush on every cute person you encounter.

Banishing the thoughts from your mind, you wave energetically. “Hey! You must be Hoshi! I’m (Y/n)! Fairy said that we were co-leaders today!”

He turns to face you, blinking at your sudden burst of enthusiasm and offers a small smile, looking a little surprised. “Oh! Yeah, nice to meet you.” He says a little shyly. “You here to help with the ropes course?”

“Absolutely!” You chirp, extending your hand. “I’m so excited to work with you this summer. I love this kind of thing - clinging, jumping, swinging through the air like a superhero. It's so fun that I get to do it for my first session!"

Hoshi shakes your hand, trying to stifle a laugh at your enthusiasm. "Yeah, it'll be ... interesting. But not everyone's into it, though. Some of the kids can be a little scared at first."

"Don't worry!" You declare, "I'm sure we'll be able to hype them up. They'll be climbing like monkeys by the end of the session!"

You expect a polite laugh or another small smile, but instead, something shifts in Hoshi’s expression. His eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief as he straightens up, looking at you with an almost playful glint.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that.”

Before you can ask what he means, a group of campers starts to arrive, chattering excitedly as they line up near the base of the ropes course.

“Alright, everyone!” you call out, clapping your hands to get their attention. “Who’s ready to have some fun and conquer this ropes course?”

A few kids cheer, while others look a little nervous, shifting their weight from foot to foot as they eye the towering structure ahead of them.

“No worries if you’re feeling a little scared,” you say reassuringly. “It’s totally normal! We’ll go at your pace, and I promise, by the end of it, you’ll feel like Spider-Man swinging through the city.”

The kids giggle, some of them visibly relaxing. You’re about to continue when Hoshi steps forward, a wide grin etching onto his face. "And just to prove it to you all, we're going to start with a little induction ritual for our new camp leader!"

You glance over at him, surprised by the sudden spotlight on you. There’s a challenge in his eyes now, one that wasn’t there before. He adjusts his harness, tightening the straps with quick, practiced movements, and without another word, he leaps up onto the first platform of the ropes course with the agility of someone who’s done it a hundred times.

He glances down, grinning for real now, and holds a hand down to you. "Come on, I'll race you to the top!"

Without waiting for a response, he takes off again, scrambling up a rope ladder with impressive speed. The kids cheer, and suddenly your competitive spirit kicks in.

“Oh, it’s on!” you yell, rushing over to grab a harness and clip yourself in. You barely take a second to check the straps before you’re darting after him, laughing the whole way as the kids below start cheering for you both.

You manage to keep pace with him, climbing and leaping with the same energy that’s always been your signature. Every time you think you’re about to catch up, Hoshi takes another daring leap, swinging across gaps or balancing on the narrowest part of the beams just to show off. There’s a wildness to him that’s completely different from the almost shy guy you met earlier.

By the time you both reach the final platform, breathless but grinning from ear to ear, the kids are cheering so loudly you can barely hear yourself think. Hoshi swings up onto the last platform just a second before you, throwing his hands up in victory as you flop down beside him, laughing.

“Okay, okay, you win,” you gasp, wiping sweat from your forehead.

Hoshi chuckles, leaning back against the railing and catching his breath. "You're pretty fast yourself," he says, nudging your shoulder with his elbow. "I didn't think you'd keep up."

You sit up, grinning widely. "You're just lucky I didn't eat a second breakfast today. Otherwise, I totally would've smoked you."

He laughs again, before peering down at the kids below. "I think we might have to get them strapped up before they start trying to climb the trees themselves."

You nod, finally understanding his plan. The spectacle of the race had taken all of the pressure off of the kids, and had let them see just how safe the course was. It was a trick that you'd have to remember.

Soonyoung watches as you move to the back of the line of kids, crouching down to speak to a young boy at the end. The kid looks nervous, clutching the harness like it’s the only thing keeping him from running back to the safety of the cabin.

He doesn’t know what you say to the boy, but it’s obviously helping as he looks up at you with awe, his hands loosening their grip. You’re offering your hand out to him, and Soonyoung realises that you’re going to go up into the course with him.

He’s manning the guide ropes, and offers you a nod as you look over for confirmation that he’ll be able to manage without you. Now alone at the bottom of the course, his thoughts begin to overwhelm.

The moment you’d run over waving at him this morning, Soonyoung had been flooded with memories. When Mingyu had mentioned last night that the new counsellor was someone they’d both known from camp, he’d never have guessed it would be you.

But you are entirely recognisable. You are just as bubbly and energetic as you were as a kid, running around camp, always surrounded by friends. Soonyoung reminisces over his old camp days, getting stuck on the memory of your first meeting.

It is a week in summer camp, and Soonyoung is having a bad time. His parents insisted on him going; they had assured him that he’d have fun, that he loved the outdoors and he’d make friends quickly enough.

Unfortunately, they are mistaken.

He’s not surprised. He knows he’s shy and meeting new people is never his idea of fun. He was hoping that some extroverted kid may pick him up and carry him into a social group, but that hasn’t happened yet and he’s starting to worry that he’ll have to find a different way.

Soonyoung’s cabin mates are nice enough, but they’ve already formed their own tight-knit group. At night, they talk about things he doesn’t really know about – sports teams, video games, and shared inside jokes.

The worse part is, the camp counsellors are always so cheerful, always asking him how he’s doing, if he’s having fun. He puts on a smile, nods and says it’s all great – what else is he supposed to say?

Soonyoung’s sitting on the edge of the lake on afternoon, his knees pulled up to his chest, staring at the rippling water as a canoe glides by with some laughing campers in it. He picks up a small stone and skips it across the surface, watching it hop once, twice, then disappear into the lake.

“Hey, that was a pretty good skip!”

Soonyoung jumps at the voice, his heart racing as he turns to see a girl standing beside him. You’re wearing a camp t-shirt, your hair tied back in two messy braids, and you’re smiling at him like you’ve known him for years.

“Uh, thanks.” He mumbles, unsure of what else to say. You pick up another rock from beside him, fiddling with it in between your fingers.

“My brother said skipping stones is all about finding the right rock. Here, look at this one!” You present the rock to him – flat, smooth, and lightweight with rounded edges. Flicking the stone with a snap of your wrist, he watches as it skips over the lake three times before dropping down below. You let out a laugh of achievement, and Soonyoung commits the sound to his memory.

“I’m (Y/n), by the way.” You say, plopping down beside him without waiting for an invitation. “I’ve seen you around but haven’t had the chance to say hi yet.”

Soonyoung feels the heat rise to his face. “Oh, um, I’m Kwon Soonyoung.”

You grin, your eyes sparkling with playful energy. “Nice to meet you Soonyoung. A few of the other campers and I are planning on stealing some marshmallows from the kitchen tonight and roasting them over the firepit – do you wanna come?”

He glances over at you, surprised at your offer. You clearly notice his hesitation and offer him a friendly smile, and he cannot help by accept. “Oh, yeah, that would be fun!”

“Okay, great!” You jump up excitedly, and he feels his own spirits lifting in tandem. “Meet us at the kitchen at 7pm.”

He had gone that night, and you’d introduced him to the rest of your friends. Soonyoung fondly remembers that evening, getting to know those campers and watching you laugh and dance around in your own little world.

He hadn’t spoken to you much after that, but he remembers everything. He can admit in hindsight that, by the end of that summer, he’d had a huge crush on you. He was sure you didn’t return those feelings – in fact, he’d heard you gushing to one of the other campers about Mingyu.

Yet, seeing you now, Soonyoung cannot help but feel like he’s been given a second chance. There is a new freedom in knowing that you didn’t remember the past. He could be confident, more daring – everything he wasn’t back then. There is no reason for you to ever associate this version of him with the kid you used to know, and he isn’t about to remind you.

At dinner that night, you find yourself peering back over at the blonde, your mind occupied with questions about him.

You feel like your camper self, looking over at a cute boy that you’re kind of scared to talk to, except this time Kim Mingyu is not the object of your attention. You can actually feel your younger self gawking at you for not taking the chance to flirt with her crush, but for some reason it’s your daring co-leader that is taking up all the space in your mind.

Wow – you think you really are absurd, blushing over a guy you’d met earlier that day. Your friends may have mocked you for your hopeless love life, but they wouldn’t be able to contain themselves if they saw you now.

The rain is coming down outside in a steady drizzle, a soft, rhythmic patter against the cabin roof that creates a cozy, if dreary atmosphere. Some of the campers, having been stuck indoors all afternoon, are grumbling about their ruined evening plans, while others huddle together in the hall, trying to stay entertained.

You glance out of the window, watching the drops streak down the glass as the grey sky darkens into evening. The air inside the cabin feels a little stuffy, and you can tell that everyone needs a pick-me-up, even the other counsellors. That’s when an idea hits you – your trip down memory lane jogging a sweet treat that always lifted your spirits when you were younger.

“Hey, guys!” You call out, clapping your hands together with a grin. A few heads turn your way, curiosity flickering across their faces. “Who’s up for some peppermint hot chocolate?”

“Peppermint hot chocolate?” One of the young girls asks, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“Oh yeah,” you beam, heading toward the small kitchenette. “It’s my special recipe. Guaranteed to make rainy days a hundred times better.”

In the corner of your gaze, you see Mingyu standing up with a large grin, nodding at the kids. “Just what we all need!”

A buzz of excited murmurs spread through the group. Meeting Mingyu’s eyes to express your gratitude for his support, you let everyone know that the hot chocolate should be ready in only a few minutes.

As you gather the ingredients, pulling out the cocoa powder, milk, sugar, and peppermint extract, the chatter in the cabin grows livelier. You’ve been making this recipe for years, ever since you learned it from your grandmother, and it has become your go-to for nights like this.

Just as you get into the rhythm of stirring, you feel someone step beside you. Turning, you see Hoshi leaning casually against the counter, watching you with a small smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he says, glancing around the room. “The kids were about to start climbing the walls.”

“It’s my secret weapon for rainy days.” You reply, glancing at him form over your shoulder. “Peppermint hot chocolate – grandma’s tradition.”

Hoshi chuckles, watching you with a soft gaze. “Secret weapon, huh? I had no idea that you were a hot chocolate expert on top of everything else.”

“Oh, you have no idea the depths of my talent. This hot chocolate is just the tip of the iceberg.”

He raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Is that so? Guess I’ll have to stick around and see what other surprises you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“Oh, trust me, you’re not ready for the full 'Peppermint' experience,” You tease, trying to sound casual, but feeling the heat rising in your face, and you know the cause isn’t the hot chocolate. Was he being... nice? Or is that—no, don’t overthink it, you tell yourself.

Hoshi steps a little closer, peering into the pot as the chocolate mixture begins to bubble. “Looks like you’ve got this down to a science.” He remarks, voice low and teasing.

You shoot him a playful look. “What can I say? I aim to impress. Besides, I figured the campers deserve a little something special after being cooped up all afternoon.”

He smiles now, and for a moment, the teasing falls away. “It’s hard to believe that it’s your first day doing this – you’re good at it. Taking care of the kids. Keeping everyone’s spirits up.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you say, waving a hand dismissively, though the warmth of his words settles in your chest. “I just want them to have fun, you know? The same as all of you guys.”

“I don’t know if you realise it, but you’ve already got most of us hooked. That hot chocolate is just the cherry on top.”

Your breath hitches slightly at his words, and you look up at him, your eyes meeting his. For a moment, the rainy world outside the cabin fades away, leaving just the two of your standing in the warm glow of the kitchen, the pot bubbling gently between you.

You blink rapidly, feeling your cheeks turn even redder. Is he flirting? No way. You are probably just misreading it, like you always do. Right? Surely, he is just being friendly. That’s all.

Before you can spiral any further, you snap back around to the hot chocolate. You quickly ladle a scoop into one of the mugs, spilling a little onto the counter in your haste.

“You’ll be hooked on this when you’ve tasted it!” You chirp, overcorrecting for your nervousness with a panicked cheerfulness.

Giving you a small, lingering smile, Hoshi softly takes the cup from your hands and takes a sip, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” he says, lowering the mug with a grin. “This is really good. You might be onto something with the peppermint.”

You smile sheepishly, feeling a swell of pride but still a little awkward under his gaze. “Thanks. I’m glad you like it.”

“I don’t just like it,” he teases, his voice dropping slightly. “I think you just made my day.”

Your heart feels completely overwhelmed. Is he doing this on purpose? You’re already hopeless at telling friendliness from flirting, and you certainly aren’t used to these little compliments, and it’s all too much for you to handle.

You hand out the rest of the mugs to the campers, avoiding eye contact with Hoshi who stays by your side to help. The kids take them eagerly, sipping their hot chocolate with delighted smiles. The cabin is filled with warmth, not just from the drinks, but from the cozy, cheerful atmosphere that has blossomed despite the rain.

“Hey, this is great hot chocolate!” Mingyu sings as he walks over to your station, half-full cup in hand.

You grin at him, happy for a distraction from the uncertainty standing next to you. “Thanks! The kids seem pretty happy.”

“Totally. You saved the day.” Mingyu praises with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “And, I heard some of the kids calling you ‘peppermint hot chocolate’, so I think – if we shorten it – you may be able to embroider your shirt. ‘Peppermint’ is a pretty cute nickname, all things considered.”

To your side, you think you see Hoshi grimacing for a second, but the expression is quickly wiped from his features.

“It’s a good suggestion.” He says, his tone flatter than it had been earlier.

“I’ll take it! Although if the kids are already calling me it, I suppose I don’t have much choice!” You say cheerfully, feeling your cheeks flushing at the thought. But, you are endeared towards the nickname, and having the campers respect you enough to give you a personalised nickname is pretty special.

By the time you’ve finished talking to Mingyu, Hoshi seems to have disappeared from your side. Even though you feel increasingly nervous around him, a part of you is a little sad that you no longer get to talk with him. But, you have chores to get on with, and 100 mugs aren’t going to clean themselves.

The next two weeks fly past. The camp is alive with the sounds of laughter, shouts and the crackling of campfire, and the days blend together as the campers rotate through their favourite activities.

You’ve spent a lot of time trying to get to know everyone, with a particular focus on your group of campers and the other camp counsellors.

Hoshi and you have still been co-leaders for most of the time, although you’d had a few sessions with Mingyu, Sparks, and one with Gecko. The more time that you spend with Hoshi, the more you are falling deeper into your crush, even if you hate to admit it.

At the start, you’d wondered if the crush was just the product of a new environment, new people, and a lingering suggestion from your friends of a summer romance that latched onto the first cute person you saw. But, if that were true, Mingyu would have been the object of your affections. At this point, you are forced to admit that your crush on Hoshi is more than a matter of convenience. He’s funny, adventurous, and great with the kids, and you have to stop yourself from staring at his face for too long when you’re together.

It’s made it a little harder for you to co-lead with him, but you think you’ve done a pretty good job of hiding your feelings. The last thing you’d want to do is make things awkward for him and the kids, and you’ve had one too many unrequired crushes to make such a rookie mistake as to publicise it.

That evening, after a long day of camp activities, the kids finally settled into their own cabins, the counsellors are left with some well-earned downtime.

You, Gecko, and Fairy pile into your shared cabin, which has quickly become a sanctuary at the end of each hectic day. The cabin is cozy, its wooden walls creaking faintly with the evening breeze that slips through the screen windows.

You flop onto your bed, letting out an exaggerated groan of exhaustion, your limbs spread out like a starfish. “I don’t know about you two, but those kids wore me out today,” you say, dramatically throwing an arm over your eyes. “If I have to get into another canoe, I think I might actually become one with the lake.”

Gecko, who is sitting cross-legged on her bed, leafing through an old camp magazine, snorts. “Yeah, right. You’re like the Energizer Bunny, Peps. I’ve never seen you actually sit still.”

“True!” Fairy pipes in, hoping up onto her bunk and dangling her legs over the edge. “I swear, you were running circles around those kids during the canoe races. I was convinced you were going to tip the boat from sheer excitement.”

You peak out from under your arm, grinning. “Hey, I’m just trying to keep the energy up! These kids need someone to cheer them up!”

"You and Hoshi sure are making it hard for us other counsellors to keep up. My kids came in today asking to have a paint fight because of your antics yesterday." Gecko rolls her eyes, but smiles. "Are we sure you're not secretly still a camper?"

At the mention of Hoshi, you feel a blush creep up your cheeks, though you try and laugh it off. “Please, if you’re going to blame anyone, blame Mingyu – he threw the first brush!”

Fairy smirks, noticing the slight pink tint to your face. She twirls a lock of hair around her finger, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You know, it always catches me off guard when you refer to him as Mingyu.” She begins, her voice dripping with curiosity. “He’s the only counsellor you do that with.”

“I hadn’t realised.” You hum, thinking over her words. “I guess because I’ve known him for so long, it feels weird to not call him Mingyu.”

Gecko and Fairy share a look.

“Sure, but you guys have been spending a lot of time together lately.” Gecko says, raising an eyebrow as she leans back on her hands.

You feel your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Had you?

You’d co-led with Mingyu a couple times over the last few weeks, and spent a bit of time catching up on old memories, but you didn’t think you’d spent any more time with him than any of the other counsellors.

“You think so? I wouldn’t say so.”

“Oh, please,” Fairy scoffs, hopping down from her bunk and plopping onto the bed next to you. “Tell me honestly that there isn’t some history there.”

You blink, flustered. “Oh, well, I guess…” You begin, feeling compelled to tell the truth under their curious gazes. “Okay, well you can’t tell anyone, but I used to have a crush on him when we were campers. Not anymore though!”

You see the pair of them smirk at each other.

“- we’re just friends now. And I wouldn’t want any more. To be honest, I’d be more likely to date Hoshi than Mingyu.” You admit, the blush on your cheeks darkening at your confession.

“Of course! We wouldn’t think any different!” Fairy says in a tone that makes you wonder if she’d actually heard what you just said.

“And it’s totally fine, everyone thinks Mingyu’s hot.” Gecko adds, and you realise that they hadn’t at all heard what you just said.

You sigh, leaning back onto your arms. “I guess.”

Fairy hums out a satisfied tune, moving back onto her bunk. You suppose that it’s still a bit early to emphasise your crush on Hoshi right now, and let the moment pass, hoping that they wouldn’t take it any further in their mistaken understanding of your love life.

Soonyoung is not jealous – he’s determined.

He’s spent the last few weeks trying to keep his cool around you, but it’s hard not to get caught up in everything you are. There’s something magnetic about the way you move through camp, always laughing, always making the kids feel safe and happy. He’s changed so much since you were younger, but you haven’t changed at all.

The issue is – your feelings are an enigma to him. In his eyes, it seems like you’re flirting back with him, laughing at his jokes, placing your hand on his arm, and he’s spotted you looking at him a few times now.

But he’d overheard some campers around the campfire giggling about you and Mingyu and begun to wonder if he’s mistaken your kindness for something greater.

He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable if he’s wrong, especially when you haven’t explicitly given him any signal, but he also doesn’t want to ignore the spark he feels between you.

That night, as the campfire crackles under the stars, the campers roast marshmallows and sing songs under the stars. You’re sat cross-legged on one of the logs, leading a small group of kids in a lively rendition of an old campfire favourite. Your voice is light and playful, if a little off-pitch, and Soonyoung can feel your laughter infecting him as the kids fumble through the lyrics.

He sits back in his seat with a content smile, watching from across the fire. The firelight dances on your face, your hair illuminated in soft, flickering hues.

“Hey, Hoshi!” You call out from across the fire, your eyes gleaming with excitement. “We’re going to have a marshmallow roasting contest. You in?”

He chuckles, standing up and making his way over. “You’re on,” he says, grabbing a stick. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you – I make the perfect golden marshmallow.”

You stick your tongue cutely out at him in mock defiance. “We’ll see about that.”

The campers gather round, joining in and bursting into laughter as Soonyoung’s marshmallow drops into the fire. He can’t find it inside himself to care though, as he watches the delight etch onto your face as you realise his mistake.

As the kids head off to their cabins for the night, you grab his arm, pulling him off to one side.

“Sorry, I know you probably just wanna crash out, but I wanted to ask you something.” You say quietly, with a small, apologetic smile.

Soonyoung’s heart begins to patter, curious and slightly nervous at what you’ll want to know.

“How’d you know that I was a camper here before?”

Ah, shit.

He thinks back to your second day as co-leaders, when he’d let it slip that he knew you went to Camp Logan as a child. The rain had started pouring, cutting off any questions you could have had, and he’d hoped you’d forgotten about it.

“Well, it was only your second day, but you were bounding all over the place like you knew where everything is – and I know Mingyu doesn’t give that in-depth of a tour.” He replies, his tone casual.

“Ahh, I suppose it does make sense. Also-” You poke at your old camp t-shirt that you are still donning. “I guess I fit the stereotype a little.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you’re not the only person who returned here as an adult.” He laughs, hoping to make you feel better.

Your eyebrows shoot back with curiosity. “Oh, really? Did you come here too?”

Soonyoung realises his mistake. “Oh, uh, I did go to a summer camp as a kid,” he splutters, caught off guard. “But a different one. Not this one.”

You look a little confused for a second, but nod your head in understanding.

Soonyoung lets out a quiet breath, thankful that you didn’t push the subject further. He’s always been good at staying calm, at least outwardly, but right now, standing here with you so close, his heart is doing somersaults. Not to mention, the way that the firelight glows on your face is making it hard for him to focus on anything else.

“So,” you say with a smile. “You promised to tell me the story of your nickname – I haven’t forgotten!”

He lets out a relieved chuckle, glad that the conversation topic has changed.

“Oh, well, technically Hoshi means ‘star’ – I got it because I used to stare at the stars every night when I was a camper,” Soonyoung explains, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone. He glances up at the sky, taking in the faint but twinkling stars. “I guess the other counsellors thought it was funny that I was obsessed with them. I got approved to do some star-gazing sessions this year, though, which is pretty cool.”

You smile, your curiosity piqued. “Wow, I didn’t realise that you were into that, that’s really amazing.”

He grins, eyes flicking back to meet yours. “Yeah, and I kinda like the name now – ‘Hoshi’ sounds cool, right?”

You giggle. “It does suit you. Though I’ll have to keep an eye on you during nighttime hikes, just in case you wander off to stare at the sky.”

Soonyoung laughs, shaking his head. There’s a comfortable pause, the crackling of the fire filling the space between you. The warmth from the flames mirror the warmth in his chest as he stands next to you, but there is something more pulling at him. He can’t help but feel the weight of everything unsaid between you two—the lingering looks, the playful touches, the way your smile always seems a little brighter when it’s directed at him. He needs to know if he’s imagining it.

“Actually,” Soonyoung says, his voice lowering slightly, a playful edge creeping in, “I think there’s something else that suits me.”

You tilt your head. “Oh? What’s that?”

He hesitates for a beat, his eyes locking with yours, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Being around you.” He says, his voice soft but teasing. “I’ve gotta admit, the stars just seem to gleam brighter when you’re around.”

A blush immediately creeps up your neck, and you look away from him for a second, taken off guard.

“You’re shameless.” You stammer, unable to meet his gaze again.

“It’s true – I’ve noticed that the stars just look better when we’re together. Or maybe it’s just because I’m distracted.”

He has to admit that he’s enjoying how flustered you look as you blink at him. “Oh, come on,” you finally reply, “you’re just trying to get out of telling me more embarrassing stories from your camper days.”

Soonyoung chuckles, stepping just a little closer. “Maybe,” he shrugs. “Or maybe I’m telling the truth.”

The space between you suddenly feels much smaller, and he can feel his own heartbeat racing.

You look back over at time, a small smile ghosting across your lips as the firelight reflects from your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he says again, his voice light. “But if it means I get to see you smile like that … then I’ll take it.”

Your smile grows brighter, and Soonyoung wonders if you know that he is telling the truth.

“Well, you have a knack for making me smile.” You respond softly, and it’s his turn to feel bashful. All he can do is nod his head, unable to keep his own lips from quirking up back to you.

At the mid-point of the summer, you can tell that the camp is at a bit of a low. The homesickness has kicked in after weeks away from family, and the other counsellors are struggling to maintain the energy after the exhaustion of endless work.

Thankfully, as you well remember, this has been a recurring problem every year, and one that the camp has provisioned for.

Unlike the general mood, you are rather excited. Mingyu has been organising a camp disco for all of the campers over the last few days, and you can’t wait to see the shine come back to the kids’ faces. But, more than that, the counsellors are having their own little after party once the kids are asleep.

You’ve spent a lot of time with the other counsellors now, and although there haven’t been many chances, you have been able to do some group activities together. But, to have a night to properly relax, kick back, and have a drink whilst the camp manager Laura watches over the kids is going to be a much-needed break. You can almost feel the anticipation buzzing in the air as you and the other counsellors exchange knowing glances throughout the day. Mingyu has been working hard to keep the details of the disco under wraps, and although the kids don’t know it yet, tonight is going to be exactly what they need to shake off the homesickness and recharge for the rest of the summer.

You glance across the campgrounds, catching sight of Hoshi helping some of the kids with a craft project. He’s been quieter the past few days, but you can’t help but notice the way he sneaks glances at you when he thinks you aren’t looking. Since that night by the campfire, when he’d said those words that left you a blushing mess, things have been... different. There’s this undercurrent between you two, subtle but undeniably there.

You feel a little flutter in your chest as you think about it, shaking your head to focus back on the task at hand. Tonight is going to be a good night for everyone, and you’re not about to let your presumptive heart distract you from the fun.

The camp disco is in full swing by the time the sun sets. The kids are bouncing around the hall, glow sticks in hand, dancing to their favourite songs, their earlier gloom forgotten. Mingyu, as expected, has done an amazing job—streamers hang from the ceiling, fairy lights twinkle in the corners, and the DJ (Old Bill) is playing all the right tunes. You smile, watching the kids come alive again, their excitement contagious.

You find yourself swaying to the music, encouraging the shy campers to join in on the dance floor, and before long, the room is full of laughter and energy. It’s working. The mood has completely shifted, and for the first time in days, it feels like the homesickness has melted away.

At one point, you’re pulled into a dance-off with a group of younger campers, their enthusiasm too infectious to refuse. You’re spinning and laughing, barely noticing when Hoshi sidles up next to you.

“You’re showing them up,” he says with a grin.

You stop mid-spin, a little breathless, grinning back at him. “Well, someone has to keep up with them,” you reply, playfully nudging him.

He laughs, and the sound is too quickly carried away by the thrum of the music. Before you get any chance to chat more, one of the campers tugs at your hand, pulling you back into the dance circle.

The night flies by, the disco ending with tired but happy kids heading back to their cabins. You wave them off, thanking Mingyu for organizing everything as you begin to gather with the other counsellors towards the staff cabin.

An hour later, the camp feels almost eerily quiet. The campers are fast asleep, and the counsellors have migrated to the staff cabin, music playing softly in the background, the lights dimmed. You can feel the collective sigh of relief as you and the others sink into chairs, finally able to relax.

Mingyu cracks open a few bottles of wine and passes them around, and the conversation quickly shifts from camp duties to light-hearted banter. Everyone’s unwinding, the exhaustion of the past few weeks melting away with each sip.

Hoshi takes a seat next to you, handing you a glass with a casual smile. "You look like you’re still buzzing from the dance party.”

 “It was fun. You’re a good dancer, you know?” You say sincerely, remembering watching him out with the kids. When he wasn’t twirling the campers around or doing stupid moves to make them laugh, he had truly been a sight to behold – moving perfectly to the rhythm with a groove you hadn’t expected.

“Thanks – you killed it in the dance battle. I think you’re lucky you already have a nickname or they’d start calling you ‘the sprinkler’.”

Your nose crinkles with disgust, and you can hear Hoshi laughing at your expression. “Absolutely not. I hope that never-”

“Hey, Pepper!” You hear from behind you, and you turn to see Fairy waving for you to come over.

You turn back around to Hoshi, giving him an apologetic smile as you move towards your cabinmate.

“What’s up?”

Fairy grins mischievously, patting the spot next to her on the couch. The other counsellors are gathered around, some holding their wine glasses, others lounging in comfortable silence. You sit down beside her, and she wastes no time leaning in conspiratorially.

“We’re starting a game,” she whispers, her eyes sparking with mischief. “You can thank me later.”

You raise an eyebrow, confused at her meaning. “Huh? What kind of game?”

Before Fairy can answer, Mingyu appears, plopping down on the other side of you with a bottle of wine in hand. “We’re playing ‘Truth or Drink’” he announces with a grin. “Or, as I like to call it, exposing everyone’s secrets while we’re too tired to care.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Wow, I think we played this when we were campers.”

Fairy nods, smirking. “He’s just trying to get out of answering questions.”

“Oh, no. I’m an open book,” Mingyu teases, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head. “But you—” he gestures toward you—“I bet you have some juicy secrets.”

Fairy claps her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright, let’s get started! We’ll go in a circle. Truth or drink. If you don’t wanna answer, you take a drink.”

The game kicks off with the usual light-hearted questions. The counsellors take turns asking things like, ‘What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you at camp?’ and ‘what’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen a camper do?’ Laughter echoes through the cabin as the group shares funny stories. Your gaze catches on Hoshi, sitting across from you, as he animatedly retells a story about the time that he ran a 100m sprint whilst drunk.

A little way into the game, Fairy turns toward you, a look that puts you on edge in her eye. “Okay, Pepper, this one’s for you.”

“Go on…”

She leans forward, her voice lowering to make the moment feel more dramatic. “Have you ever had a crush on anyone here?”

The group immediately bursts into giggles, all eyes turning toward you. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks from the attention. You cannot believe that she’s just asked you that.

You let out a soft groan, covering your face with your hands for a moment. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Come on,” Mingyu says, nudging you with his elbow. “You can’t back out now!”

Looking back at Mingyu, you realise you have a choice. Admit to your childhood crush on him, admit to your current crush on Hoshi, or drink and let everyone realise that you do in fact like someone. The answer seems obvious to you – you didn’t like Mingyu anymore so admitting to that crush would be embarrassing but you could get over it.

You peek out from behind your fingers, letting out a flustered laugh. “Alright, alright!” You take a deep breath, deciding to just go with it. “When I was younger… I used to have the biggest crush on Mingyu.”

The room goes silent for a beat before erupting into laughter. Mingyu’s eyes widen, clearly not expecting that answer, while the others start whooping and teasing him.

As the laughter from your confession settles, you glance around the circle, catching a glimpse of Hoshi sitting quietly across the room. His playful grin is still there, but something in his eyes has changed. It's subtle, but the usual lighthearted sparkle has dimmed just a little, and his posture seems more tense than relaxed. You blink, wondering if you’re imagining it, but you can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.

Meanwhile, the other counsellors are still buzzing with excitement over your confession. Mingyu, clearly enjoying the attention, leans back with an exaggerated smirk.

“So, Peps,” he teases, his grin wide, “I guess I was your first camp crush, huh? Man, that’s a big responsibility.”

You roll your eyes, laughing. “Don’t flatter yourself too much. I was, like, twelve. It doesn’t even count.”

Fairy chimes in, giving you a sly look. “I dunno, you two always seem pretty close. Are you sure you’re over him?”

You’re about to respond, to brush off the teasing, but before you can say anything, Hoshi speaks up from across the room, his voice a little sharper than usual. “Come on, Fairy – she said it was ages ago. We don’t need to interrogate her.”

You blink, surprised by his tone. The group falls silent for a beat, and you can feel a shift in the room, the playful banter suddenly feeling a little heavier.

Mingyu, ever oblivious, laughs and holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. No more teasing. Pepper, your secret’s safe with me.”

But as the conversation moves on, you can’t help but glance over at Soonyoung again. His jaw is tight, and while he’s pretending to be engaged in the new topic, you sense his mood is off from his usual demeanour.

After a few more rounds of the game, the atmosphere goes back to normal – aided by a very funny impression of Hatter by Sparks.

“Alright, my turn to ask.” Sparks grins, looking around the circle like a predator looking for prey. Sparks’ gaze lands on Hoshi, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Alright, Hoshi—no dodging this one. Truth or drink?"

Hoshi raises an eyebrow, smirking but clearly unfazed. "Truth. Hit me with your best shot."

Sparks grins wider. "Alright, Soonyoung, tell us… what’s something from your camper days that none of us know?"

The moment the name "Soonyoung" leaves Sparks’ lips, you feel a jolt. Soonyoung? Why does that sound so familiar? The name echoes in your head, and suddenly, it hits you like a wave crashing onto the shore.

Soonyoung.

You stare at Hoshi – no, Soonyoung – wide-eyed, your heart skipping a beat as the realisation sets in. He was at camp before. Not just any camp, but this camp. And you knew him – that shy boy from all those summers ago.

Your breath catches in your throat as the pieces click into place. You’d spent all these weeks with him, not realizing he was that Soonyoung. He’s changed so much—more confident, more playful—but there’s no mistaking it now.

Soonyoung’s gaze flickers, meeting yours for just a moment too long before he looks away, his expression shifting. His smile vanishes, replaced with something more guarded—something that makes your heart twist. You’re on the verge of saying something, of asking him, why didn’t you tell me?, when he clears his throat, breaking the eye contact as quickly as it happened.

“Uh yeah,” he says, his voice more subdued. He forces a laugh, but is sounds hollow. “There’s nothing too exciting – one time, I accidently called the counsellor ‘mom’ in front of the whole group. That was pretty hard to live down.”

The other counsellors chuckle, buying into his casual response, but you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

Minutes pass, and every time you try to say something, to bring it up, he’s conveniently out of reach—answering a question from Fairy, joking with Mingyu, or pouring another drink for Sparks.

The atmosphere in the room returns to normal, everyone laughing and enjoying the game, but you’re stuck. Your thoughts are racing, replaying memories from your time at camp, piecing together everything you now know about him. You want to ask him why he never said anything, why he’s been keeping this hidden when you could’ve shared stories, laughed about the past. But more than that, you can’t shake the hurt—the feeling that maybe he didn’t want you to remember him at all.

Finally, as the game winds down and people start to leave the cabin, you seize the chance to approach him. You wait until the others are distracted, your heart pounding as you take a step toward him, your mind already formulating the questions you need answered.

"Soonyoung," you begin quietly, your voice just loud enough to catch his attention.

He looks at you, but the guarded expression is back, like a shield between you. He doesn’t give you time to say anything more.

"Hey, I think I’m gonna head to bed," he says abruptly, cutting you off before you can even start. He glances around the room, avoiding your eyes again. "It’s been a long day, you know?”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. You watch, frozen, as he turns away, leaving you standing there with a knot in your chest. He slips out of the cabin before you can say another word, disappearing into the night without looking back.

The drunken chatter in the cabin isn’t making Soonyoung feel any better. Mingyu and Sparks had stumbled back together, laughing and swaying and not giving him any time to work out what just happened.

His head is a blur of emotions – scared that you now know the truth, sad at the look you were giving him, embarrassed of the past, and a little jealous of Mingyu.

Soonyoung leans against the wall, arms crossed tightly as Mingyu and Sparks collapse onto the bed in a fit of drunken laughter. He tries to smile, to act like everything is fine, but his thoughts keep spiralling. His heart hasn’t stopped racing since Sparks let his name slip, and now, every time he thinks of the look on your face, that wide-eyed realization, it twists the knot in his chest a little tighter.

You know. You finally know who he really is, and he has no idea what to do with that.

“So, (Y/n) really had a crush on me, huh?” Mingyu says, grinning as he pulls off his shoes and tosses them into the corner. “I mean, I knew I was charming, but I didn’t realise I was that charming.”

Sparks laughs, kicking his legs up onto his bunk. “Dude, she admitted it in front of everyone. You’re lucky we didn’t start calling you ‘Pepper’s new boyfriend’ right there.”

Soonyoung’s jaw tightens, and he stares down at his hands. He doesn’t want to listen to this. He really doesn’t want to hear Mingyu, who’s been hovering around you for weeks, talking about your confession, as if it’s still a big deal, as if it’s more than just an innocent childhood crush.

But Mingyu keeps going, his voice full of amusement. “Man, I should’ve paid more attention back then. I didn’t even realize she was crushing on me when we were kids. Can you imagine if I’d noticed?”

Sparks snorts, shaking his head. “You probably would’ve been too clueless to do anything about it.”

Mingyu shrugs, laughing. “Maybe. But hey, it’s not too late, right?”

Soonyoung feels his chest tighten. The words hit him like a punch, even though Mingyu is clearly joking. The easy way he talks about you, as if he could just turn on the charm and pick up where your old feelings left off, makes Soonyoung’s blood boil.

“Maybe you should try,” Sparks says, grinning. “Pepper is cool. You guys would make a cute couple.”

He wants to say something—anything—to stop this conversation from going any further, but he can’t. His throat feels tight, and his thoughts are all over the place, tangled in confusion and frustration.

Mingyu laughs again, the sound light and careless. “Nah, I’m just messing around. We’re good friends. But still, it’s kinda funny, right? Me and (Y/n). Who would’ve thought?”

“Can we drop it?” His voice is sharper than he intends, cutting through the laughter. Both Mingyu and Sparks go quiet, turning to look at him in surprise.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, clearly confused. “What’s up with you, man? We’re just joking around.”

Soonyoung swallows hard, trying to keep his voice steady. “I know. But can we just… not?”

Sparks glances between the two of them, sensing the tension but not quite understanding it. “Dude, relax. It’s not that serious.”

But it is serious, at least to him. He can feel the weight of everything pressing down on him—your confession, the truth about his past, the way you looked at him earlier when you figured out who he really was.

Mingyu narrows his eyes slightly, finally starting to catch on that something’s bothering Soonyoung. “Okay… what’s going on with you?”

Soonyoung exhales, leaning back against the wall, his heart still pounding. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not with Mingyu. Not when he’s still trying to sort through his own feelings, his jealousy, his fear that maybe he’s already too late.

“Nothing,” Soonyoung mutters, his voice tight. “Just tired. I’m heading to bed.”

Without waiting for a response, he pushes himself up from his bunk and heads for the door, needing to get out of there.

As the door closes behind him, he hears Mingyu say something to Sparks, his voice lower now so that Soonyoung cannot hear what he’s saying.

“You think he’s jealous?” Sparks asks, half-joking but with a hint of seriousness.

Mingyu chuckles softly, but there’s an edge to his tone. “Maybe.”

Soonyoung grits his teeth as he steps into the cool night air, the quiet of the campgrounds a stark contrast to the noise in his head. He doesn’t want to be jealous, but he can’t help it. It’s eating at him, the way Mingyu talks about you so casually, like he has the right to claim a piece of your past, like it wouldn’t be that hard for him to step into your present.

And all Soonyoung can think is that he’s been hiding behind Hoshi for so long, afraid to show you who he really is, that he might’ve lost his chance before he ever truly had it.

The problem with being known as the bubbly, energetic counsellor is that it’s immediately obvious to everyone when you are not feeling bubbly or energetic.

You’ve tried to keep your energy up and you’re still having a lot of fun with your group, but its hard when half of your mind is filled with unanswered questions. And it doesn’t help that the only person that can answer them is avoiding you entirely.

Having had a bit of time to think about it, you are still entirely confused about the situation. You don’t understand why Soonyoung hid your shared past from you, you don’t understand why he’s ignoring you now, and you don’t understand why not talking to him is making you feel so bad (okay, maybe you do understand that one).

You’re not used to feeling like this—so off balance. Normally, you’re the one with the infectious energy, always the first to lift everyone’s spirits. But now? Now it’s hard to keep up the act. The kids don’t notice, thankfully. They’re still having fun, still looking to you for guidance, but the other counsellors have started to pick up on it.

“Hey, Pepper,” Gecko says one evening, sidling up next to you while you sit on a bench outside our shared cabin. “You okay? You’ve been kinda… off lately.”

You force a smile, even though your heart isn’t in it. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired, I guess.”

Gecko raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Sure. And I’m a unicorn.”

You huff out a laugh despite yourself, grateful for the attempt to lighten the mood. “I don’t know. It’s just been a weird few days.”

Gecko nods, leaning back against the bench. “Anything to do with Hoshi?” she asks, her tone casual but probing.

You blink, startled by the directness of the question. “What? No, why would—”

“Oh, come on,” Gecko interrupts, giving you a knowing look. “It’s obvious something’s going on between you two. He’s been acting weird, and you’ve been all mopey. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

You bite your lip, unsure of how to respond. Part of you wants to spill everything—to tell Gecko about Soonyoung, about the past, about the way he’s been avoiding you—but another part of you feels too raw, too exposed to talk about it yet. So instead, you just shrug.

“I don’t know. We just… haven’t really talked lately.”

Gecko snorts. “Yeah, no kidding. He’s been avoiding you like you’ve got the plague or something.”

The words sting, even though you already know they’re true. You don’t say anything, just stare down at the ground, your mind racing with everything you haven’t been able to figure out.

Gecko seems to sense that you’re not ready to talk, because she nudges your shoulder gently and stands up. “Well, if you want to vent or throw pinecones at him or something, let me know. I’ll back you up.”

You manage a small smile as she walks away, but the moment she’s gone, the weight of everything comes crashing back down.

By the end of the week, your patience has worn thin. Soonyoung is frustratingly good at avoiding you. Every time you try to approach him, he slips away, always just out of reach. It’s almost like a game, except there’s nothing fun about it.

You watch him across the campfire one evening, the flames casting flickering shadows on his face. He’s laughing with the other counsellors, his expression as lighthearted as ever, and you don’t know how he’s so unbothered. It makes you want to scream.

You don’t know what to do, but you do know what you normally would do when you feel like this – who you’d normally talk to.

That night, you find a snug space in the mess hall after everyone else had gone to bed. Typing the familiar number into your phone, you hear the brief ringing before the twin voices of your best friends ring out through the tinny speakers.

“(Y/n)!” Emma’s voice is the first to break through. “What’s up? You never call this late. Everything okay?”

Jane’s voice follows immediately after. “Yeah, it’s gotta be past midnight over there. What’s going on?”

You let out a sigh, leaning back against the wall of the hall and twirl a strand of your hair between your fingers. You don’t even know where to begin, but you know you need to talk to them. If anyone can help you sort through this mess, it’s Emma and Jane.

“Hey, guys,” you say, your voice quieter than usual. “I’m… I’m just feeling a little off, I guess. Camp’s great, but there’s this... thing.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line before Emma pipes up. “Ooh, sounds like someone’s got boy drama.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, even though a smile pulls at your lips. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, but it totally is,” Jane interjects. “I can hear it in your voice. You sound all conflicted and mopey like the time that Joshua Hong rejected you in freshman year. Spill, (Y/n). What’s going on? Is it about Mingyu?”

You bite your lip, unsure of how to explain everything without sounding completely ridiculous. You hadn’t let slip about your feelings towards Soonyoung on any of your previous calls, even if you had mentioned him before. “No, it’s about someone else - my co-leader, Soonyoung.”

You can hear your friends cooing through the phone.

“It turns out we were campers here together when we were kids, and he just didn’t tell me. Now that I’ve figured it out, he’s avoiding me, and I don’t know why.”

“So… wait,” Emma says slowly, as if piecing it all together. “You knew him when you were kids, but he didn’t tell you who he really was until now?”

“Exactly,” you sigh. “I didn’t remember because he’s so different now – I mean he looks different, and he used to by really shy - but now that I know, he’s been dodging me. Every time I try to talk to him, he slips away. It’s like he doesn’t want me to know the truth.”

Jane’s voice is thoughtful when she finally speaks. “Okay, so let’s break this down. Why do you think he didn’t tell you?”

You shrug, even though they can’t see you. “I don’t know. Maybe he thought it didn’t matter, or he didn’t want to dredge up old memories.”

“Or maybe,” Emma chimes in, “he thought it would change how you saw him.”

You blink, taken aback. “Why would it change anything?”

“Because he’s not the same person anymore,” Emma says matter-of-factly. “He’s confident and outgoing now, right? Maybe he’s worried you’ll only see him as the shy kid you remember instead of who he is now.”

That thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, and you let it settle for a moment. Soonyoung was so sure of himself now, but was there a part of him that was still afraid of being that quiet, overlooked kid?

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain why he’s avoiding me now,” you say. “I just want to talk to him and clear the air, but he won’t give me the chance.”

Jane speaks up this time, her voice firm. “Well, then you’ve got to stop waiting for him to come around. You’ve got to force him to talk to you.”

“Force him?” you ask, feeling a bit unsure. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Not literally drag him by the collar or anything,” Jane says, laughing softly. “But you need to be direct. If he’s not coming to you, then you go to him. Corner him somewhere he can’t run away. He obviously has something he’s not saying, and the only way you’re going to get answers is if you stop giving him the option to avoid you.”

Emma agrees immediately. “Yeah, if he’s not going to be brave enough to face it, you’ve gotta take the lead. You’re (Y/n), for crying out loud. You’ve never been one to back down from a tough conversation.”

You chew on your lip, their advice sinking in. They’re right. You’ve been waiting, hoping that Soonyoung would come to you, that he would explain himself. But that’s not going to happen. If you want answers, if you want to figure out why he’s been avoiding you and what’s really going on, you’ll have to be the one to confront him.

But the thought of it makes your heart race. “What if he’s just avoiding me because… I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t want to be friends anymore?”

Jane’s laugh is sharp and confident. “If he didn’t want to be around you, he wouldn’t be this weird about it. He’d just be distant and chill. This sounds more like he’s scared or confused. You’ve got to talk to him.”

Emma’s voice softens, more serious now. “Look, the worst thing you can do is leave things unsaid. You’ll drive yourself crazy overthinking it. So just corner him somewhere, ask him straight-up what’s going on, and don’t let him avoid the conversation.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of anxiety and determination settle over you.

“Okay,” you say, nodding to yourself. “You’re right. I’m going to talk to him.”

“Damn right you are,” Jane says, her voice filled with pride. “And, oh my god, can we just quickly mention that I was totally right about your summer romance.”

You choke out a laugh, your head falling back. “Don’t forget that he currently won’t speak to me, let alone actually like me back.”

Emma scoffs, booing down the phone. “Nuh, uh. I don’t want to hear that negative speak. You’re going to find that boy, force him to talk to you, and then jump his bones – I can feel it in the air.”

“Okay, I’m going to hang up now.” You crack up, unable to contain the joy from chatting with your best friends again. Despite Emma’s proclivity for vulgarity, you can’t help but feel a sense of home radiating from the phone.

In spite of your threat, you do actually want to hear about how your friends are doing, what they’re up to now that they’re home from their holiday. You spend the next hour or so chatting, laughing, and feeling a whole lot more like yourself again.

The first rumble of thunder that afternoon had been distant, barely a low grumble on the horizon as the campers gathered in the west building for their activities. By the time that dinner started, the sky has darkened dramatically, thick clouds rolling in like a blanket over the campgrounds. A sudden gust of wind sends the trees swaying, and the smell of rain is heavy in the air.

You have been leading a group of campers in a silly skit, testing their acting abilities with some bastardised version of Shakespeare. Their laughter bubbles through the room as the first flash of lightning streaks across the sky. The crack of thunder that follows seems to shake the whole camp and, just like that, the power flickers out.

The mess hall is plunged into darkness, the only light coming from a faint glow of the evening storm outside. A collective gasp goes up through the room, and the campers freeze, their eyes wide as they look around in fear.

“Alright, guys, no big deal!” You hear Mingyu’s voice call out from across the other side of the hall. “The power’s just taking a little break.”

A second bolt of lightning lit up the hall, and the windows rattled with the booming thunder that followed. This time, a few of the younger kids whimper, and one of the older ones calls out, “What if the storm gets worse? What if we’re stuck here?”

You feel a flicker of doubt, but before you can speak, a familiar voice cuts through the nervous chatter.

“Hey, come on, guys. This isn’t a storm – it’s an adventure.”

Soonyoung strides to the front of the room, his expression completely unbothered, his signature grin firmly in place. Even in the dim light, there is a calmness radiating from him that instantly shifts the mood. He rubs his hands together, as if gearing up for some grand plan. “You’ve all seen movies, right? Power goes out, storm rolls in… that’s when the real fun starts.”

A few campers exchange glances, clearly intrigued, and you feel a wave of relief as the attention shifted from fear to curiosity.

“And what we’re going to do,” Sparks jumps in, joining Soonyoung at the front. “Is make this the most epic camp night ever. No electricity? No problem. That just means we get to tell the best stories.”

As the kids begin to chat between themselves, a spark of excitement now overtaking the room, you gather with the other counsellors to work out a plan.

“Fairy and I will go and get some torches and candles, make a nice cozy atmosphere while we’re waiting for the power to come back.” Mingyu suggests.

“Great, and I can lead a story time, get the kids distracted.” Sparks adds, and Hatter nods in agreement.

Mingyu’s brows furrow for a moment, looking around the room. “We should probably get Old Bill to go check the breakers, see if we can turn the power on.”

“Oh, no need, I can go check them!” You say with a cheerful grin, wanting to be as helpful as you can.

“Are you sure?” Mingyu checks with a frown. “Maybe someone else should go with you.”

“Soonyoung should go.” Gecko pipes in, and you see her giving you a look in your peripheral vision.

Soonyoung hesitates for a moment, before nodding.

“Okay, cool, and Gecko and Ace can work on some snacks and drinks for everyone?”

As everyone agrees to the plan, you feel a sense of opportunity. Soonyoung is going to talk to you tonight, whether he likes it or not.

The loud bangs and rustling of the storm prevents you from any conversation on the way to the breaker room, leaving you filled with tension as you slam the metal door shut behind you. Soonyoung is in front of you, flicking on the battery-powered lights in the room as you lock the door.

He glances around at you for a second, before turning back to the breakers. “So, I guess we just switch them off and on and see what happens?”

The dim light in the breaker room flickers overhead as Soonyoung turns his attention to the row of switches. You watch him quietly, your heart racing—not from fear of the storm, but from the sheer weight of everything you’ve been wanting to say to him.

For a few moments, neither of you speaks. The distant rumble of thunder fills the silence between you, and the occasional burst of lightning lights up the small, cramped room. Soonyoung seems entirely focused on the breakers, flipping one switch after another, as if the problem at hand is just the electrical outage and not the unspoken tension hanging thick in the air.

“Soonyoung.” Your voice comes out a little sharper than you intended, but it gets his attention. He freezes for a second before turning to face you, his expression guarded.

“Yeah?” He asks, his tone too casual.

You cross your arms, feeling the frustration you’ve been bottling up for days bubbling to the surface. “We need to talk.”

He glances back to the breakers, clearing trying to avoid your gaze. “About what? The power should be back on in a few minutes.”

You step closer, not letting him dodge the conversation this time. “Not about the power. About you avoiding me. About why you didn’t tell me who you were.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “This really isn’t the best time-”

“No,” You cut him off, your voice firm. “It is the best time. You’ve been avoiding me for days, and I’m tired of pretending like nothing’s wrong. I want to know why you didn’t tell me. And why you’re acting like … like you don’t even want to know me anymore.”

Soonyoung finally turns to face you fully, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes – guilt, maybe, or regret. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, the silence stretching out as the storm rages outside.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it mattered,” he says at last, his voice low. “Back then … I was different. I wasn’t like I am now, and I didn’t want you to think of me as that shy kid from all those summers ago.”

You stare at him, processing his words. “So you just pretended we didn’t know each other?”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. “No, it’s not that. I didn’t think you’d remember me. I barely talked to anyone back then, and I figured it didn’t matter.”

You feel a pang in your chest at his words, at the thought of him feeling like he had to hide part of himself from you. “But I did remember you, eventually. And when I did, you started avoiding me. Why, Soonyoung?”

He flinches at the sound of his name. His jaw tightens, and for a second, you think he’s going to deflect again, but then he takes a deep breath. “Because I was scared,” he admits quietly, his eyes meeting yours. “I didn’t want that version of me to affect how you see me now. I’ve changed, and I didn’t want to mess up whatever this is by dredging up the past.”

“So you thought that hiding it was better?” You ask softly.

“I thought it was easier.” He corrects. “But clearly, I was wrong.”

The frustration that had been simmering in your chest starts to ebb, replaced by something else—something softer, more understanding.

“You know,” you begin, your voice gentler now. “I love how fun and adventurous you are, how you’re so great with the campers and that I can never predict what you’re going to do next. But I liked that kid too. Sure, he was quiet at first, but I thought he was really funny and sweet when I got to know him.”

You move forward, feeling a surge of confidence in the dim light of the breaker room. You feel your hand reaching out to grab his, and his fingers are smooth and warm under your grasp. He looks a little taken aback at first, but then his grip tightens around your hand and you feel your heart beat rising. “I don’t just want to know one side of you, Soonyoung. I want to know all your sides, but you didn’t even give me the chance to figure that out because you kept pushing me away.”

He looks down at the floor, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I didn’t mean to push you away,” he mutters. “I just … I didn’t know what else to do.”

He looks impossibly pretty under the dim light, his hair hanging in front of his eyes, wet from the rain. His lips are slightly ajar, and you can tell his breathing is slightly ragged from how close you are standing.

“What are you so scared of?” Your voice is the quietest it’s ever been, the question coming out as little more than a whisper. You can feel his fingers flex away from yours for a second, before renewing their grip on your hand.

“I’m scared that I’m the only one feeling this,” He responds, his voice just as quiet. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you’re certain he must be able to hear it. “I thought – I don’t know, maybe you did too, but then I saw you talking to Mingyu and I wondered if it was better to just keep my distance.”

“Mingyu?” You blink, startled by the confession. “What about him?”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and you can see the vulnerability there. “Come on, (Y/n). Everyone else can see it, even the kids. You even admitted it at the party, and I knew I had no hope then.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the weight of his words settling over you like the storm outside. You open your mouth to respond, tell him he’s wrong, but the power suddenly flickers back on, the lights buzzing to life around you.

The sudden brightness makes you blink, and in that split second, Soonyoung turns back to the breaker box, flipping the last few switches into place as if nothing had happened.

“Well, the power’s back,” he says, his tone abruptly casual again. “We should probably get back to the others.”

Your heart sinks. The moment is gone, and Soonyoung is already slipping away again. You want to stop him, to make him face everything he just said, but the door to the breaker room creaks open, and Mingyu’s voice echoes down the hallway.

“You guys good in there? Power’s back on, thank god!”

Soonyoung doesn’t even glance at you before he heads toward the door. “Yeah, we’re good. Just flipping switches.”

You stand there for a moment, watching him walk away, your mind swirling. And as the storm rumbles outside, you realise that this conversation is far from over.

Soonyoung leans against the stack of crates in the activity shed, trying to look busy, but all he can focus on is the knot in his stomach. The conversation in the breaker room with you, the almost-confession, the avoidance – it all keeps replaying in his head, and none of it makes sense to him anymore.

He knows he should talk to you, that much is clear. But what’s the point? You’ve got Mingyu, haven’t you? The way you laugh with him, how comfortable you are around him. If he had to admit it, that’s why he’s been holding back all this time—because deep down, Soonyoung’s afraid he’s already too late.

The door to the shed swings open, and sure enough, Mingyu steps in, looking for something on the selves. Soonyoung tense, inwardly groaning. This is the last person he wants to see right now.

Mingyu, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside Soonyoung, grabs a soccer ball from one of the shelves and tosses it in the air. “Oh, hey! You good, man?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “Yeah, fine.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Really? Because you’ve been avoiding me for the last few days, and (Y/n) for like two weeks. What’s going on?”

Soonyoung’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not with Mingyu. But the frustration is bubbling up, and before he can stop himself, the words slip out. “What’s the point, huh? You and her… it’s pretty obvious.”

Mingyu catches the soccer ball mid-toss, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“You and (Y/n),” Soonyoung mutters, running a hand through his hair, avoiding Mingyu’s gaze. “It’s clear you two like each other. I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

For a second, there’s silence. Then, Mingyu lets out a laugh—an actual, full-blown laugh, so loud and sudden that Soonyoung jerks his head up in surprise.

“What?” Soonyoung snaps, his frustration rising. “What’s so funny?”

Mingyu shakes his head, still chuckling as he sets the soccer ball aside. “Dude, are you serious? You think me and (Y/n) are into each other?”

Soonyoung blinks, completely caught off guard by Mingyu’s reaction. “Well… yeah. I mean, you’re always together. She used to have a crush on you, and it’s pretty obvious you guys get along.”

Mingyu sighs, running a hand over his face, as if trying to figure out how to explain this to a five-year-old. “Okay, first of all, that was years ago. She had a crush on me when we were kids. And second, (Y/n) and I are just friends, man. There’s nothing going on between us.”

Soonyoung stares at him, still trying to wrap his head around what Mingyu’s saying. “But… I’ve seen the way you two are. She’s always smiling around you.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because we’re friends, and she’s a friendly person. But that doesn’t mean she has feelings for me. Trust me, dude, if she liked me like that, I’d know. And I don’t know, because it’s not happening. If anything, she’s been trying to figure out what’s up with you.”

Soonyoung’s chest tightens at those words. All this time, he’s been avoiding you because he thought he didn’t stand a chance, when in reality, he was the one making things complicated.

“Look,” Mingyu says, his tone softer now. “(Y/n) likes you. I don’t know how else to say it. That fact that you don’t know it already is crazy to me, but apparently you don’t. And as your friend, I have to tell you that if you keep acting like this you’re going to ruin your chances.”

Soonyoung lets that sink in for a moment, his thoughts spinning. He feels like an idiot. All this time, he’d assumed the worst, convinced himself that you and Mingyu were something more, when in reality, he’d just been too scared to face his own feelings.

Mingyu pats him on the shoulder. “You’ve gotta stop running. Go talk to her. Be honest. Otherwise, you’re going to lose her before you even get the chance.”

Soonyoung lets out a deep breath, feeling the weight of his mistake settle over him. He knows now that there’s only one thing left to do. He has to find you, talk to you and explain everything.

Soonyoung’s practically sprinting through the camp trying to find you. There’s an air of desperation from Mingyu’s warning, and he feels like if he doesn’t solve this now then you’ll never forgive him. He can feel eyes slowly turning towards him as he skates through the campfire area towards the mess hall.

He’s got one mission. He needs to tell you the truth, even if you reject him and tell him to never speak to you again. It’s not Soonyoung’s style to not take the risk, and he needs to stop reverting back into someone he’s not anymore.

The large expanse of mess hall is full of people, whose gaze all turns on him as he slams open the large wooden doors, but you aren’t there. He takes a second to scan the room once more, feeling slightly crazed, before running through to the kitchenette.

He’s already checked the main and west buildings, and if you’re not here then that means you can only be out in the forest or in your cabin. He’s debating whether going into your cabin would be over the line as he steps back out towards the mess hall doors.

“Hosh, you alright-”

“Sorry, no time!” He cuts off Sparks’ questioning, making a mental note to explain later. He practically stumbles as he barrels back outside. His heart is racing, his pulse pounding in his ears, and all he can think about is finding you. He has no idea what he’ll say, but he knows he can’t let you keep thinking he doesn’t care, that he’s been avoiding you out of anything other than fear and his own stupidity.

The air outside is thick with humidity after the storm, the ground still wet beneath his feet. He jogs toward your cabin, his thoughts swirling. If you’re not in there, if you’re somewhere in the forest, he’ll search every inch of camp until he finds you.

And then he sees you.

His throat feels like it closes as you appear in the distance, and his feet falter.

But even as he hesitates, you’re moving closer, practically marching towards him. He can now see that you’ve got this determined look on your face that is making your cheeks puff up in such an endearing way.

“Kwon Soonyoung!” You yell, your voice even firmer than when you’re scolding one of the campers.

He gulps his fear down, willing his feet to start moving again. “(Y/n)…” He calls back, sounding far less confident than he intended.

And then you’re in front of him, an accusing finger pointed at his chest and reddened cheeks betraying your frustration. You seem so angry at him, but it’s the complete opposite of your normal character and he thinks that it makes you look so cute. “This needs to stop, right now. You need to tell me the truth, because I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s completely ruining my mood. I don’t know what delusional story you’ve thought up about Mingyu and I, but it’s not true, and you’re using it to dodge your own feelings. I won’t take one more day of this-”

Soonyoung reaches out to push your hair out of your eyes, his hands lingering on the sides of your face. He completely interrupts your rant, causing you to freeze. Your eyes are wider than he thought was physically possible, lips still parted in a half-finished sentence.

The moment is here now, and he’s going to be brave. “I like you, (Y/n), much more than as friends.”

A small gasp leaves you.

“I’ve thought that you were the best person I’d ever met since we were kids,” Soonyoung continues, his voice shaking slightly but his determination unwavering. “Back then, I didn’t have the guts to tell you, and when we reconnected here, I told myself I’d do it different. I told myself I’d be confident, but … I messed it up.”

He takes a deep breath, gathering the courage to continue. “I’ve been scared stupid that if I told you how I felt, I’d ruin everything between us. And then I was jealous about something that wasn’t even true.”

You blink, your hand reaching up to cover his own. “Soonyoung…”

“I like you,” he repeats, stepping closer, his voice softer now. “Not just as a friend. I like the way you laugh even when things get tough, the way you look after the kids, the way you make everything feel lighter. You make everything better just be being around. And I know I’m not always the best at showing how I feel, but I’m done hiding it.”

The words hang between you, heavy but freeing at the same time. There’s a slight, uncontrollable tremor in his hands as he waits for your response.

“I…” You swallow, trying to find the right words. “I didn’t know … I didn’t know you felt this way. I thought you were avoiding me because…”

“Because I was an idiot,” Soonyoung finishes, offering a nervous lopsided smile. “And I didn’t know how to handle my feelings.”

You don’t respond for a second, and it settles inside him that you’ve still not told him your own feelings. The same anxiety that he’d felt before lurches up into his throat, and he has to will himself to be patient and let you have time to process everything.

He watches your lips part and close again, clearly struggling to find the right words. He feels almost certain that it’s because you don’t know how to let him down nicely, and begins to pull his hands away from your face.

But then, you surge forward and before he realises what’s happening your lips are on his, warm and a little chapped, but so soft, so gentle, that his mind goes completely blank. For a split second, Soonyoung freezes, his heart slamming in his chest as the realisation hits him: you’re kissing him. You’re kissing him.

The rush of warmth floods through him, his anxiety melting away as he melts into the kiss. His hands move back to cradle your face gently, puling you closer and deepening the kiss just slightly, as if afraid you might slip away.

When you finally pull back, your faces are still close, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. Soonyoung’s heart is racing, his mind spinning, but there’s a calm that washes over him – a peace he hadn’t felt in days. The weight of his confession, the fear of rejection, all of it had been for nothing. You kissed him.

He searches your eyes, still not entirely convinced this is real. “Does this mean…?” He trails off, almost too afraid to ask.

You smile softly, your hand still resting on his cheek. “I like you too, Soonyoung. I’ve been pining after you since he first met – I honestly don’t know how you didn’t see it.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, a smile spreading across his face—one so wide, so genuine, that it almost hurts his cheeks. Relief floods through him, a wave of happiness so strong that he can’t help but laugh softly.

“I can’t believe this,” he admits breathlessly. “I really thought I’d screwed every up.”

You laugh too, your eyes crinkling at the corners as you shake your head. “You did, but not beyond repair.”

Soonyoung chuckles, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot.”

“You’re forgiven,” you reply, your voice light, teasing. “But next time, don’t wait so long to tell me how you feel, okay?”

He grins, his heart swelling in his chest. “I promise. No more waiting.”

For a moment, the two of you stand there, the tension and uncertainty finally gone. And then, he reawakens to the rest of the world. Soonyoung’s eyes widen in horror as the reality of where you both are crashes down on him. The echo of cheers and catcalls rings through the air, carried by the counsellors and campers alike, all watching the two of you from across the clearing. His face burns with embarrassment as he quickly spins around, spotting Gecko and Sparks practically doubled over with laughter, while Fairy’s clapping enthusiastically, a wide grin on her face.

You, meanwhile, are giggling uncontrollably, your hands covering your flushed cheeks as you try to hide.

Soonyoung wants to disappear into the ground, but he can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips. The situation is too ridiculous to feel anything but mildly horrified and amused at the same time. He scratches the back of his head, turning to face the crowd again as he raises a hand awkwardly.

“Well, uh... surprise?” he calls out, his voice cracking slightly.

The crowd erupts into more laughter and teasing applause, a chorus of “Finally!” and “About time!” floating through the air. Mingyu, standing in the front with a smirk, shouts, “Took you long enough, Hoshi!”

Soonyoung glares playfully at him. “Yeah, yeah, alright, I get it!”

You’re still beside him, peeking through your fingers, but then you glance up at him with that familiar sparkle in your eyes, and all of a sudden, the embarrassment doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

Soonyoung lowers his voice, leaning in closer to you. “Well, at least now we don’t have to hide it,” he jokes, trying to play off his own mortification.

You giggle, your blush fading slightly as you finally uncover your face. “I guess not,” you say, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “Still, couldn’t you have waited until we were somewhere a little more… private?”

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “To be fair, you were the one who stormed up to me.”

Before either of you can say anything more, Sparks bounds over, eyes wide with mock excitement. “Oh my gosh! The drama! The romance! How scandalous!” he exclaims, fanning himself dramatically.

Gecko saunters up behind him, shaking her head with a grin. “You two are worse than the campers. Could you not have waited until after lights out?”

Soonyoung groans, burying his face in his hands for a moment. “Okay, okay, we get it, we’re the camp’s entertainment for the night.”

But when he glances over at you, he can’t help but smile. You’re still laughing softly, your eyes meeting his with an affection that makes the whole embarrassing spectacle worth it.

Soonyoung looks down at you, his expression softening. “You okay?” he asks quietly, just for you to hear.

You nod, your smile widening. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He grins back at you, his heart feeling lighter than it has in days. “Me too.”

You bound out towards the camp entrance, your hair messily crimped by some of your campers, t-shirt stained, and a wild grin smothering your face.

Screams of excitement meet you as you round the wooden ‘Camp Logan’ sign and spot that familiar pink Honda hastily parked on the side of the road. The sight of your two best friends is more than you can handle, and you rush to pull them into a big group hug.

“Oh my god, I missed you guys so much!” You cry out, grabbing Emma and Jane in a tight embrace, your heart bursting with joy. Their laughter fills the air, just as loud and chaotic as you remember, and it feels like no time has passed at all since you last saw them.

Emma pulls back first, grinning from ear to ear. “We missed you too. Look at you! You’re a total camp disaster in the best way possible.” She flicks a playful finger at your hair.

Jane raises and eyebrow and smirks. “Uh-huh, and what’s with the expression? You’ve got that ‘something happened’ face on.” She pokes your arm teasingly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Spill.”

You laugh, trying to act nonchalant, but the truth is bubbling up inside you, ready to burst. “Well... okay, a lot has happened,” you admit, biting your lip as you try to contain your excitement.

Emma immediately gasps, leaning in closer. “Oh my God, you’re glowing. This isn’t just camp fun, is it? Tell me Jane’s prediction came true?”

“Well, technically no.” You start, pausing to watch the excitement fall from their faces into confusion. You lips quirk into a smirk. “You said that I’d have a fling with a mysterious counsellor that I’d never see again, and I know, for sure, that I will be seeing him again.”

Emma’s jaw drops, and she grabs your shoulders, shaking you playfully. “WHAT? You’ll what?! Tell us everything right now.”

You can’t help but grin as you launch into the story, telling them about the confession, the camp’s accidently audience, and the time you’d spent together since. They listen intently, reacting with gasps and giggles, hanging on every word.

When you finish, Emma practically squeals, throwing her arms around you again. “This is so cute, I can’t handle it! And the whole camp saw?! You’re living in a rom-com!”

You beam, happiness radiating from your chest. “I have both of you to thank for it – your advice definitely worked.”

Jane laughs, unlocking the trunk. “Here, pass me your trunk and then we can catch up on all the details. We brough snacks and drinks for a mini picnic – you can tell us more about your camp romance while we stuff our faces, and we’ll give you all the updates of what’s been happening in the real world while you’ve been stuck in camp. There’s so much gossip.”

Jane’s hand reaches out to grab your trunk, before noticing that you’re not holding one. Her face scrunches up in confusion for second, before she follows your gaze which has turned back down the woodchip trail.

“Sorry, I was just helping a kid find his parents.” Soonyoung smiles widely, one hand swinging into a wave, the other holding your case. You can hear a small gasp of shock leave your two friends, and cannot help but bubble with pride.

You run forward, grabbing the case from his hands and setting it down next to the car. Slipping your hand into his with a reassuring smile, you lead him over to your friends. “Guys, this is Soonyoung. This is Emma, and this is Jane.” You introduce everyone, your heart full as all of your favourite people meet.

“Nice to meet you both, I’ve heard a lot about you!” Soonyoung grins.

Emma looks at you, quirks an eyebrow, and then spins back round to your boyfriend with a smirk. “I’d hope so. We are the most important people in her life. Although, apparently, we’ll have to make room for one more.”

You laugh, seeing the blush creeping up Soonyoung’s neck. “I hope that’s not too much trouble for you.” He replies with a soft smile.

Jane moves forward, handing the picnic bag over to him and linking his other arm with hers. “If you tell us all the embarrassing things (Y/n) has done this summer, then we’ll consider you accepted.” She chuckles, leading the group back towards the camp.

You fall behind for a second, happy to see your friends and Soonyoung already chatting like they’ve known each other for years. Your heart swells at the sight, and you smile up at the camp archway with gratitude.

“Come on!” Emma’s arm links with yours as she pulls you out of your thoughts towards where the others had gone. You laugh, stumbling to keep pace with her.

“What do you think?” You whisper in a low tone.

Emma hesitates for a second. You feel slightly nervous waiting for her response, but then a smirk breaks out across her lips. “He’s so hot, (Y/n). You will tell me if you got some, right? You can wait until later if you’re scared other people will hear, but I won’t believe you if you tell me that you didn’t.”

You burst out in laughter, shaking your head at your friend’s familiar antics. “You’re unbelievable.”

Summer camp may have been coming to an end, but you can truthfully say that you’re now even more excited for what comes next.

[fushiguruuzzzz]

something that had intensely shocked you upon growing closer to satoru gojo was that he was not the cocky, and for lack of better words, prick that you had deemed him as the moment he had made his first impression on you. no, no. the gojo clan’s pride and joy, the strongest in all his glory, was a total nerd. perhaps even a loser, if you were to look beyond the ridiculously impressive cursed energy (not that you would admit it so long as you were living) and the self righteous air he carried.

you realized this the moment he became something more than a classmate to you. however, you had promptly decided you loathed his every breath the first time you caught sight of him, and you were not one to break your word.

so you hated him. or you liked to say you did, at least.

“hey, pssst.”

speak of the devil.

you kept your eyes trained on the worksheet before you, every nerve in your body dedicated to the act of ignoring the white haired thorn in your side.

his eyes narrowed. “I know you hear me, unless you’re insulting your own senses. cmon,” he drawled.

with a huff, your shoulders lost the carefully upheld posture you had been keeping, a physical sign of your acquiescence, and you responded, “what is it you could possibly need?” your tone lacked bite and you hated yourself for it.

“daily check in, of course”—he made a motion that you could only assume was pushing a hypothetical microphone into your face—“on how much you’re hating me. rate it on a scale from one to one hundred twenty-seven.”

you shot him an odd look. then one of exasperated realization. his birthday. 12/7. “you’re really self absorbed, you know?”

“I think it’s justified,” he said, grinning boyishly. the general population may have considered it almost cute. not you, though, of course. “anyway, that’s not an answer. statistics! cmon, I don’t have all day. i’m a busy man.”

you rolled your eyes. the only thing he was meant to be busy with was the half-blank sheet of paper in front of him. “one hundred fifty.”

his smile widened like he had just caught you in a scheme. “last time, you said one million. have I finally got on your good side?”

you had to reach up and rub your temples to refrain from punching him straight in the face, infinity up or not. “absolutely not. you’re such an idiot, eight-eyes.”

he leaned lazily on his desk, lanky form crumpling with the effort to remain seated. “it’s six eyes, i’ll have you know.”

you swatted at the glasses perched atop his nose. “eight.”

he huffed, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “blah, blah. gettin’ all technical on me. don’t think it’ll distract me from what you said—one hundred fifty! are you falling in love? be honest.”

“farthest from it. I hate your guts.”

“actually, it’s been theorized that hate and love are actually real close rather than opposite since there’s so much passio-“

you picked his paper up from his desk, shoved it in his face, and turned dramatically to face forward in your seat.

you could have sworn that, as he (rather obediently) went back to his paper, you heard him mutter “see? passion.”

idiot. loser. nerd.

however, you would not wish for it to be any other way.

this is genuinely one of the worst things i’ve every written I think but I got three hours of sleep last night and am guilty I haven’t posted despite working on longer projects so take this I guess ALSO RAY IF YOURE SEEING THIS I AM COMING FOR YOUR EVENT SOON I PROMJSE

[harrieatthemet]

Chapter Four. The Wedding.

They locked the past behind them. But tonight, one glance is all it takes to break it open.

Word Count: 5.8k

(Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3)

The only noise in the black SUV for a while was the glaring sound of the AC vents. Cranked high to ward off the waning swelter of the June evening, it hummed with a purpose while Harry kept his eyes glued to his hands and his fingers busy fidgeting with rings. He leaned his head back against the leather of the seat, eyes closing briefly while he clenched and unclenched his jaw, working to breathe through the coil on the impending anxiety winding up in his sternum.

“The ceremony was lovely,” Anne hummed, objects in her purse clanking together as she fishes around for her powder, “Isabelle in her beautiful dress, and the hydrangeas everywhere. My god, her husband too - a sight for sore eyes, that one.”

“Finn is it?” Harry asked blankly, not breaking his stare ahead.

“Mhm,” Anne affirmed sweetly, “m’not sure how long they’ve been together. Don’t suppose you met him before.”

“Once,” Harry’s tone remained flat, “years ago, Izzy brought him to a show. Only just started dating though - nice lad.”

His head doesn’t crane, but he can feel Anne resting her gaze on him. It’s an inquisitive stare, the type she does when she’s studying him to gauge his mood and weasel her way into his thoughts. 31 years she’s been at this and, somehow, manages to enhance the skill each time it’s practiced. He doesn’t need to arch his neck or meet her stare to know she’s already managed to gain entry into his mind. It’s evident in the way that her facial expression softens at the edges and it almost feels like he’s being pitied.

Maybe it’s the stiffness in his posture or just the fact that he refuses to peel his eyes off their lock on the headrest in front of him, but Anne doesn’t poke at him. Instead she rambles on; the rustic-esque vibe of the church, how big Tucker’s kids have gotten, the one flower girl she didn’t recognize, the procession music. It all fell on deaf ears. Harry was nodding, but he wasn’t listening. Physically, his body was confined to the car, where he could feel the linen of his beige pants start to adhere to the seat. Mentally he was somewhere far away from the present. She asks him something again and he shrugs. Not because he doesn’t know the answer, but because he wasn’t listening at all. In turn he just inches forward to adjust the AC vent away from his face.

“Gonna give yourself a cold before y’even say hello.” Anne tuts.

“M’freezing,” he says plainly, “I didn’t ask t’be frozen whole.”

“Suppose that’s a good point,” Anne smirks, “also asked not t’come to the ceremony, and here we are, button. On our way to the reception. Progress.”

“Came t’make sure you weren’t overserved Pinot and give unsolicited relationship advice, mumma.”

A little bit of his uneasiness is alleviated at the sound of Anne’s girlish snicker, followed by a playful tap to Harry’s bicep beneath the crisp white button down rolled up to his forearms. Anne is very poised - polite and put together. Harry can count on one hand all the times he’s seen his mother inebriated by liquor of any kind. But it was a cheap shot at rerouting the direction of the conversation. It gave him an out to omit the real reasoning. He won’t outwardly admit to her that the idea of Anne being at the reception, alone with Anna, made his stomach twist.

Not a lot of forethought had gone into Harry’s attendance at all. Maybe it was an impulsive choice or his mother’s coaxing. Or perhaps the two coinciding and teaming up is what got him to RSVP yes. In theory there was purpose, intent, logic. It wasn’t until the plane approached closer to the tarmac of Jacksonville Airport, the scenery beneath the wheels of the plane coming closer into purview, where he felt the nerves start to seep in. He was taking the same flight he’d taken countless times, years ago. This time, though, it felt too different.

The idea of sitting in a creaky wooden pew, watching Anna traipse down an aisle adorned by flowers, made him lightheaded. Just the thought of her in church, at a wedding that wasn’t hers with a man at the altar that wasn’t Harry, made him physically ill. Waiting for his luggage at the baggage claim felt like a punishment. Every bag that spun past pushed him closer to nausea and he nearly had to ask the driver to pull over on the way to the hotel so he could throw up. It’s why Anne had attended the ceremony without her son on her arm, leaving him behind to collect himself within the four walls of a stuffy hotel room.

“You’re anxious,” Anne chimeed in, “can nearly feel it oozing off ya.”

“M’fine.”

“Bit of a shoddy performance, if m’honest.” Anne responds calmly before some lighthearteded teasing, “Maybe you’re still in looove.”

“Don’t start.”

“M’only speculating,” Anne insists contently, “seeing that I’ve caught y’digging in a certain someone’s Instagram like there’s a cash prize hidden in there somewhere.”

It’s not a conversation he cares to unearth right now. Or at all, really. In an attempt to shut it down, he readjusted his body slightly away from Anne and gears it more towards the window of the car. He winces a bit as she mutters something to herself, something incoherent he can’t make it out.

The blur of trees and passing cars mix together as they pass by the glass of the window, emulating the chaos wrapped up in Harry’s brain. The pace of the car began to slow, though the rhythm of pounding in Harry’s chest only seemed to pick up. Turning off the main road brought the house on the hill almost into direct eyesight.

A familiar, long winding road appeared in the front windshield of the car, presented by stone columns on either side of the entrance. The gravel beneath the tread of the tires crumpled, the hum of the AC whispering a little louder now that Anne had finally succumbed to the silence Harry had offered. He leaned his temple against the glass of the window, watching the few remaining golf carts and their occupants wind up the fairway and towards the clubhouse.

The landscaped unspooled slowly, lush with vivacious greenery accentuated by the cracks of golden hour sun slithering through branches of trees. Oaks arched overhead like a cathedral, dripping in spanish moss swayed by hot gusts of sporadic June breezes. He can recall celebratory lunches here; Izzy’s college graduation party, Vivienne’s baby shower for Blake, Cici’s 50th birthday where she got so drunk she did the worm. Twice.

The country club became less of a side-part in the sunset and more of a main character. The white facade of the stately Southern country club was as transcendent as he remembered; whitewashed brick, the weather column porticos and black wrought iron balconies that hugged parts of the second floor. Tucked into the verdant outskirts of St. Mary’s stood this charming estate, surrounded by hills that dipped into the marshy edge of the intercoastal. If he tipped his head the right way, just enough, the glimmer of the Atlantic catching the fading rays of the sun was almost in eyeshot.

The car neared a full stop as it rounded the loop splayed out in front of the entrance. He watched with weighted eyes as guests trickled in, some in pairs and some alone. It was a sea of colorful dresses, men in matching linen suits with hues of vibrant colors here and there.

“Outside's absolutely stunning,” Anne marvels, “but perhaps we can get out of the car and take a peek at the inside, yeah?”

She goggles Harry, who’s scanning another group of wedding attendees through narrowed eyes. Mindlessly his fingers drum against his knees, in unison, picking up in pace each time he enhances his focus. It’s not until she clears her throat a little louder this time, bobbing her head towards the car door to politely get him to open it.

Not forgetting to pay his thanks to the driver, he slides his hand on the cooled metal of the door handle and nudges the door open with his knee. Behind him the sun is starting to slide behind the rolling hills, illuminating the golf course in a haze of amber and honey-glow. The air is thick, and not just because he’s nervous and his breathing pattern has become jagged. It’s the type of thick that signals the start of a southern summer. A breeze whistles through as he rounds the back of the car to open Anne’s door, delivering a comforting smell of fresh cut grass intertwined with subtle notes of honeysuckle and pine. Far off laughter erupts, carried from the back of the club to the front on a wave of wind.

“M’glad you came,” Anne murmured sweetly, tapping Harry’s hand as his arm locked with hers, “I think it was a good choice on your part.”

“Y’practically forced me.” Harry teased, the duo syncing up as they waltzed up the stairs.

“I merely suggested,” Anne chuckled, nodding a thank you to a server holding the door open, “might I add y’eagerly jumped at the opportunity.”

The two were now fully immersed in the grand-foyer, the swing of it all unfolding before them. Heels clicking against the checkered marble floor fought for the opportunity to be heard over the faint music spilling from the hallway ahead, trying to lure guests in towards the live band. A long entry table had been transformed into a guestbook station, thick cream stationery sprawled in scatter across the linen cloth around a thick black book decorated with an assortment of polaroid pictures.

“Sign for the both of us!” Anne asks in passing, delivering a loving pat to the back of Harry’s shoulder, “I’m heading in.”

Before Anne begins to fold into the small groups of people loitering or shuffling towards the direction of the band, she gives him a reassuring squeeze to the arm - loving, maternal, like she had practiced it. Her strut into the reception room was effortless and belonging, like everyone was waiting for her. And as he watched her disappear, he felt the passing glances and humble gawking of bystanders he didn’t recognize.

He didn’t want to assert his presence and status by saying hello, or politely decline photos. Instead he redirected his attention to the guest book, where he flipped through a few pages like he was looking for something.

And he was. Initially all he got was a sea of unfamiliar faces; a few girls he couldn’t match names too, men with beards or older women holding glasses. Closer to the front he recognized Anna’s aunt Maggie, chuckling as he could make out the fact she was holding two glasses. Both for her he assumed, as her husband Nate was beside her holding a drink of his own. Flitzing through pages, he huffed as some of the film grew tacky against the page before it. Subconsciously, the frustration was growing from the fact that he’s analyzed nearly a dozen photos thus far and still hasn’t gotten a glimpse of Anna yet. It’s just been endless swarms of decadent suits paired with grinning laughs, glasses mid clink, and unfamiliar handwriting beneath each. It’s the last page he has left to turn, and finally, there she was.

Barefoot in the grass, the silk catching the perfect amount of light under a roaring sun, she was smiling so distinctly he almost smiled back. Her hair was swept back whilst loose tendrils hung around her face, a few others adhered to the nape of her neck. Anna’s photographed expression was settled somewhere between happy and exhausted - she wasn’t smiling for the camera, but for whoever had taken the photo. An exhale of content recognition plagued him as he paired her handwriting - the perfectly neat cursive she always resorted to - beneath the photo. He’d recognize it anywhere just based on all the little post-its she used to leave around the LA house; a few on the fridge, a couple on the desk, littered everywhere in her chaotically organized studio off their guest room.

His eyes rolled over towards the photo beside her - faces he remembered as babies that now looked more grown into the bodies of children. He recognized Cooper and that smug grin on his face just from memory alone; the blue of his eyes nearly invisible from the scrunch of his smile, decorated with a light peppering of freckles on his rosy cheeks. Blake he’d only seen as a newborn, though now at 6 years old, he had almost completely adopted Tucker’s entire face. As for Lilly, he’d only had the privilege of seeing through the annual Christmas card Cici shipped off to Anne, and he’d seen her grow up through the lens of one new photo each year taped to his mother’s fridge. She’d grown up since the last card he’d seen. Her white-blonde hair was cut into a shoulder length bob in the photo from last year. In the photo now, alongside her brothers dressed in matching khakis and blue bowties, her hair had deepened slightly and evidently tripled in length.

Next to them though was a face he didn’t recognize. Softer, slightly younger than the rest of the brood, with green eyes that stood apart from the other three’s ocean-hued blues. And they were accentuated with heavy lashes, thick and dark. She was hamming it up, clearly more keen at the opportunity to have her photo taken. With a soft curve of her nose, her cheeks squished up to make way for the pink and full-lipped grin she was expertly exhibiting. Two dimples danced sweetly at both corners of her mouth, nearly obscured by the oddly-curated mess of light brown and tawny curls. It was almost like her hair was feverishly looking to escape the pink flower crown at the peak of her head; identical to the one atop Lilly’s head as well.

There was something familiar about her - a little sharp. He could feel himself studying the photo a little too long. It almost made him feel weird, though he was insatiably curious to try and correlate her to something - someone. Clearly she belongs to someone in the family, Anna’s or maybe the groom. It’d make more sense seeing as she’s clearly a flower girl - she’s tied to Izzy or Finn in a way that made her a necessity in their wedding party. Anna’s handwriting lingers beneath this photo as well, Congrats to Auntie Zizi & Uncle Finn! Love Cooper, Blake, Lilly, & Charlie.

Harry’s thumb hovered over the corner of the page, wanting to flip it but not being able to bring himself to commit to it yet. He was still splitting his time between the photo of Anna and the ensemble of children beneath her.

“Lord have mercy,” sung out a familiar southern drawl, “I pray to Christ my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.”

The skin on his face began to flush before he even lifted his head to look towards the direction of the woman’s voice. It was almost like an instinct that his brain was able to put a face to the sound. Before he even had a moment to glance up in her direction before Delaney Davis swept in like a tornado in wedges. The florals of her fitted gown wrinkled as she practically skipped her way closer to Harry, the thick black hair in her ponytail swaying with every step. Her voice, unrelenting and sweet in tone, was still piercing Harry’s ears as an echo of the marble of the foyer floor.

He nearly stumbled back as she crashed directly into him, flinging her arms around him to rope him into a hug so tight he thought he’d get stuck to her. Her perfume, rich with undertones of vanilla and cedarwood, met his nostrils first. It was only a second later that the thick layer of bourbon and presumably whiskey soon overpowered the previously sweet fragrance.

“S’good to see you Delaney,” Harry laughed nervously, feeling her arms tighten in her embrace, “but m’afraid you’re about t’squeeze the breath out of me.”

“Let me get a look at ya’,” Delaney breathed as she relinquished her hold on Harry, “I like the hair - a bit scruffy, a little mustache. I like it! It’s very sexy and rugged artist-esque, like you’ve been livin’ off espresso and regret.”

Harry involuntarily let out a subtle laugh, “Nix the regret, but yes. Lots of espresso.”

“Ya gotta come in and say hi,” Delaney exclaims, gesturing towards the entrance to the room where the reception is being enjoyed, “Everyone’s in there. Does Anna know you’re here yet?”

It’s just the subtle mention of her name that earns the knee jerk reaction out of him. It’s almost an involuntary bodily function that Delaney managed to pull out of him in just one word; faintly widened eyes, the perk of his ears, eyebrows slightly raised in peaked curiosity. There’s a hollowness that presents in the center of his chest, starting as a small crack before he feels it beginning to widen.

He’d almost forgotten that Anna was here. Delaney had only reminded him just now. She was here - where exactly, he wasn’t sure - but she was here. They were under the same roof, in the same space, seeing the same things and even talking to the same people. All of it was in real time. It was like an internal shift: past meets present and memory is bleeding into a reality.

Over the course of four years, their lives had been existing on parallel tracks; always adjacent, but never close enough to overlap. Similar circles, a handful of mutual friends, but never coexisting at the same party or gathering. When he’d hear she was in London, he’d be in Italy. When he was in New York, he’d catch wind she was in Georgia. It was always the near misses like those that lured him back to her social media. He’d scroll through her Twitter for hints or updates, but never found any. He’d comb through curated Instagram posts but never got more than an outdated selfie, and it was typically one he’d already seen the last time he fell down that rabbit hole.

He always told himself he looked out of curiosity. Nothing more. It was rarely just for that, though. He’d look at her personal account, a skeleton of a social media profile as she rarely posted, trying to unearth possible clues that he still occupied space in her mind like she did his. Then he’d move to the clothing account, marveling at how the page had amassed a following count larger than the last time he looked. He’d scour that and come up empty, too. But when he had his fill, when it drudged up the rawness of residual sadness or anger, he could turn his phone off. If - when - he sees her, he can’t scroll away like he normally does. She’ll be right in front of him this time.

“M’not sure,” Harry sucks in a breath to maintain his facade of calmness, “was she asking f’me?”

Desperately he waits for Delaney to answer his question with a yes. For a glimpse of a moment he allows himself to think that she was actually excited to hear he was coming. She could be poking her head around corners looking for him somewhere right now, as he stands here. She could be twenty feet away - ten, even. She could even walk up behind Delaney as she waits to answer Harry, her eyes meeting his. No buffer, no screen to separate them anymore, no delays or paths just barely missing each other. An even more outlandish thought dawns on him that he wouldn’t dare let linger long - maybe it was her idea.

The beat of his pulse quickened in pace as he stood there, evoking him to shift his weight to keep from exposing it. Everything felt too real and too close; shirt now clinging impossibly snug to his skin, the room getting smaller, hotter.

“Not to me,” Delaney shrugs, though it’s followed by a menacing grin as she extends her hand to lead the way, “but I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you. C’mon.”

She doesn’t allow him to ponder the invitation, she just grabs his idle hand and starts tugging him along in stride behind her. The latter part of her sentence is ringing so loudly in his ears, he nearly manages to drown out the growing sound of live music as the proximity of the band grows closer to them. Delaney said it so matter-of-factly ‘I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you’, like she already knew Anna was somewhere nestled in a group of people just waiting for him.

The music came to its maximum volume once they reached the back ballroom, where the room truly opened up before Harry. Floor-to-ceiling french doors were thrown open to invite in scattered breezes off the club’s shaped back patio. The ceiling was high and coffered, wrapped decadently in cream colored molding all along the edges where it kissed the walls. Tables were placed all throughout the space, dressed with white linen and twinkling votives accentuated by big rose bouquets, only avoiding the space where the black and white checkered dance floor played as a stage for a mass group of dancing wedding-goers.

The band was electric and vivacious, feeding into the energy of the crowd as they overpowered the sounds of clinking cutlery and half-sloshed drinks. Waiters in white tuxes navigated their way through varying groups balancing trays, distributing refills of wine or cocktails in sweaty glass drinkware. Harry’s shoulders tensed a bit as he honed in his focus on scanning the room, using Anna’s photo from the guest book as a guide to aid in picking her out of the crowd. They sifted through pastel dresses and southern drawls, loud laughter and scattered women hanging onto the bar like wallflowers. He felt his chest lurch when he thought he’d seen her, just for whoever it was to turn around and deem him wrong.

Maybe he wasn’t ready like he thought he would be. Or maybe he didn’t need to be at all. Seeing her - laying eyes on her in real life after years of illusiveness - would bring some closure. But as he towed the line of liberating himself from daydreams and turning idealizations into real life, it occurred to him that he may not be here for closure at all. He was here because every time he saw her in a photo, in a filtered story, on an invite list, even in a blurred edge of a friend’s photo - each time it was like the wind got knocked out of him. It dawned on him that intermittent glimpses or ‘almosts’ weren’t sufficing anymore.

“I’ll be right back,” Delaney’s declaration of departure was like a gift to Harry, “get a drink, mingle. I’ll come find ya.”

The sea of people splayed out in front of him, lively with smiles and half-empty drinks splashing around haphazardly in their glasses, began tugging Delaney to join them. It doesn’t take long for her to blend in with the rest of them before disappearing altogether. Left to his own devices, a man on a mission with one particular goal in mind, Harry lingered around the perimeter of the ballroom. Hands in his pockets, gaze friendly but cautious, he made sure to do his lingering carefully. The weaving and bobbing through people was always interrupted by a familiar face, each one happier (and shocked) to see him than the last.

Amongst the rest were those who didn’t recognize him just by face, but primarily by name. That’s when he’d tuck his chin and wind his jaw tighter. The last thing he needed was someone to stop him in starstruck-bamboozle. Even more-so, he didn’t want to be recognized as the guy who used to be on the end of Wilson family photos until he wasn’t in any at all. He nodded politely as he rounded the waiter balancing a silver tray of empty glasses, offering a faint but brief smile as the waiter looked twice - as if he was delusional to think he’d just walked past Harry Styles at a 200 person wedding at a country club in small-town St. Mary’s.

With quiet steps against polished marble, his eyes flitted through the noise and light and motion radiating throughout the room. Every flicker of a woman with honey-colored hair draped in a rose-colored dress made his heart lurch into his throat. It was halfway around his second lap near the bar that he was ready to settle on the harsh truth; she left. He assumes she was told by a cousin, a friend or Vivienne maybe, that he had arrived and she decided to high-tail it out of there.

She’d done it once before, two or three years ago. He’d only gone to her friend Tate’s birthday party because he saw she’d confirmed her attendance - with the plus one box checked off as no. Harry hated Tate; his unbecoming arrogance, his painfully unfunny sense of humor, how he’d always try to flirt with Anna right in front of him like he wasn’t even there. Or maybe Tate just didn’t care - which only irritated Harry more. But he went anyway, shocked an invitation had even been extended to him. The entire way there was spent stringing together the perfect thing to say when he finally saw her. He wasn’t sure who told her he was there, or if she’d seen him and fled, but she left not even 10 minutes into him showing up.

It felt just like that again as he took another cool-eyed glance towards the wedding party table, only occupied by cousins and Izzy’s group of friends in their matching bridesmaids dresses. He could faintly make out Cici in the center of a group of women, naturally, talking with her hands and smirking to herself when she earned fits of gasping or laughter. He was ready to quit; ready to decide she’d left to avoid him again, even at her sister’s wedding, and he truly didn’t belong as a guest here. And that’s exactly when he saw her.

It was a subtle glimpse at first - just the tempting movement of muted pink silk catching the light from the ceiling above. He’d almost missed her, utterly displeased with himself that it took him a second one-over of the dance floor to land his sight on her. There she was; gleefully barefoot and committed to dancing just as terribly as he remembered her to. Surely her heels had been long discarded, laying abandoned in a heap beneath her chair somewhere. Her hair was a dustier shade of blonde then he remembered last he saw her, like it was threatening to change to a golden blonde at any second. Pieces continued to break free from her curated updo, sunkissed strands framing all around her face and sticking to her neck or shoulders. She was smiling - no, laughing - that same uninhibited, full body laugh she’d do. He’d always adore the way her nose would crunch, how her shoulders would pull in before the rest of her face would light up.

Two little girls in matching dresses were on either side of her, each claiming one of Anna’s hands for themselves as they twirled in enthusiasm. And she was right there between them, like it’s exactly where she belonged, spinning them over and over as the grins on their tiny faces relentlessly doubled in size. He felt his chest swell when she scooped up Lilly on her hip, followed by the little girl on the other side of her collapsing to the floor in a dizzy fit of giggles.

Anna bent down to peel Charlie off the floor, Lilly writhing free from her grip on Anna and firmly placing her feet to the floor before teetering off elsewhere. Anna stayed behind though, tending to the toddler he could almost recognize but couldn’t place all at the same time. He thought he’d seen Anna as every version of herself.

The inspired creator who spent hours beneath scraps of fabric and incomplete sketches or designs, hands stained with charcoal and pins stuck to her shirt. The stubborn perfectionist who’d impulsively tear apart nearly-completed garments at 2am if the hemming just barely strayed from her visualization. The wild, home grown country girl who rode her horses barefoot and stayed married to the same pair of washed-out denim jeans. The woman who made coffee completely naked in his kitchen every morning, like it was totally normal. The face he’d look for on the side stage at shows, or laugh at starting the dance-circle in the middle of the pit. The spirited risk-taker rarely followed the rules, and instead just made her own as she went.

This version was unexplored territory. It felt foreign. Anna always had a knack for kids and never struggled to win them over, no matter the age. This was different. He studied the way Charlie looked at Anna in front of her, crouched down so the pair would be eye level. He couldn’t make out what Anna was saying, just that she was talking and Charlie was listening completely. She didn’t move when Anna took her pointer finger to a rogue curl, dusting it away from the side of her face- like she does this all the time. And the rosy cheeked, humor-ridden child accepts the tender peck Anna delivers to her forehead like its habit - routine. Then she rose again and the two resumed exactly where they left off, Charlie spinning and Anna soon following. He forgot for a second that he was existing in real time. Other people could see him gawking, studying, staring. So could Anna and, finally, she did.

It happened slowly, almost imperceptibly, kind of like the way clouds start to separate and move in the sky when you’re not looking directly at them. Anna was still mid-step, the tail end of a completed twirl, still wearing a full-faced smile in lieu of whatever the child beside her had just said. It was then that he remembered he was still staring, because he could visually make out the shift in her body language. There was a ripple beneath the surface, like she could almost feel the weight of his eyes and the pull of his undivided attention. Her head turned not fully, only a couple degrees. Soon her eyes followed as they mindlessly peered around the room until she found it - found him - and the moment felt like that of a caught thread snagged in fabric.

“Harry,” Anne called from afar, and he just let it get drowned out as he held Anna’s gaze, “Someone’s looking for you!”

He didn’t care. All he could center his thoughts on was the face looking back at him; her lids a bit heavy from alcohol and the overconsumption of laughter. He watched as her smile faltered a bit, but not all at once. It merely softened before it retreated altogether. The child-like glimmer in her eye dimmed from impact, like recognition was hitting her all at once and sucked the air from her lungs. The same way it had just happened to him.

She didn’t move, she stopped twirling and shimmying while Charlie went on while the two maintained their intertwined hands. But her gaze didn’t waver, not at first. And neither did he. Though the room felt like it had blurred, Anna stayed constant in clear vision. He could see the subtle arch in her brow, lifted by a slight twinge of disbelief. The gentle pinch in the corners of her eyes, as though her mind was still trying to catch up and decipher what her eyes were registering. The way her lips parted ever so barely to say something, but didn’t know what words to use.

Harry couldn’t tell what expression she was wearing. Was she sad and disappointed? Or could she not really see him as well as he could see her? Maybe she was still trying to process it all - too stunned to do anything. Worst of all, he had not a clue as to what expression was plaguing his face - hopeful or stricken, happy or devastated. He had no idea what she was looking back at.

He wanted to step forward, raise a hand - do something. His feet felt melded to the floor in the same spot they’ve been standing for what felt like hours, waiting for him to come undone like a puddle. A full breath passed, then followed by another. The distance between them, the trek from where he was stuck in place to the center of the dance floor, felt like continents separated by seas. The distance wasn’t physical, but felt far in every other way.

Then she blinked. A slow, deliberate type of blink, like she’d just emerged from holding her breath underwater and her skin met the surface. The way she peels her stare away - so clean and precisely, was almost enough to convince him it never really happened. Like she hadn’t just spent those few weighted seconds looking directly into him - seeing him, recognizing him, taking him in to peek open at years worth of memories she had ferociously packed away. She executed the kind of withdrawal only someone used to suppressing big feelings could pull off. The turn of her head ensued with fluid grace, as though her attention was being asked of elsewhere. As if he were just a part of passing scenery.

It was masterful the way she pulled it off. The way she wore composure like a second skin, never letting what broiled underneath come far enough up to brim her surface. She was still shaking him out of her system with a roll of her shoulders, like she hadn’t just looked her past dead in the face a couple feet away. Most people would heed with caution after that, but not Harry. He knew her too well. He saw the shift in her mouth - the way it pressed just a bit too hard against her teeth. The strain in her jaw she tried to downplay - even he could see it across the room.

“Have y’gone deaf?” Anne exhales behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder as to literally jolt him into acknowledging her, “Did y’hear me calling?”

“Sorry,” he murmurs with a shake of the head, “y’needed something?”

“M’just chatting with Cici,” and now she’s tugging him along by the arm, “and you have that adorable photo of Gemma’s baby I’m dying t’show her. Come on, off we go.”

His feet finally move, though by force, as he’s involuntarily toted along by the eager grip his mother has on his forearm. Left behind was his train of thought, still trained on Anna and the way she had to push up that last laugh, like she dug deep somewhere to drag it out. He knew her. She wasn’t looking through him, but at him. And he wasn’t leaving without talking to her first.

[slutsenpai]

can we have giving head to yuji PLSPLSPLSPLSPLSSS??

hi, yes of course :3 thanks for waiting and I hope that u like it !!

— senpai

虎杖悠仁 ⊹˚˖୧ think you can keep going ?? ◟♡ itadori yūji

giving head to your favorite cursed boy

content. afab!reader, oral (m!receiving), throat fucking, light manhandling but he’s sweet about it, praise, buff college himbo yuji, characters are in their 20s, established relationship, I kinda ate with this …

the sight in front of you should have been out of a painting. yuji was gorgeous — laid out on the edge of your bed with his muscular thighs spread to make room for you, his toned chest rising and falling as he panted softly, swallowing small breaths and his eyes solely on you. golden honey irses glimmering in the low light, and petal pink hair all messy from your hands.

“y-you’re gonna kill me, angel.” yuji groaned, carefully resting his splayed fingers on the back of your neck, his thumb on your jaw. he gently tugged you off of him, shivering as your plushy lips sucked and slid off of his length with a pop.

“you need a break, baby?” you rested your pretty face on his thigh, looking up at him with doe eyes and he could have fainted. you had done this a few times, but he was still inexperienced.

honestly, yuji was a bit insecure given how attractive his best friend is. girls usually went for megumi instead of himself, so when you showed interest in him, he thought that he was dreaming. but, how could you not? he was handsome and well-built but also adorable, with his cute laugh and unconditional kindness. you were falling harder for him than you’d like to admit…

“I-I don’t wanna… y’know.. cum this early…” he admitted with a cute little pout, averting his gaze from yours. “yuji,” you whined, “I don’t care how long you last as long as I make you feel good.”

he exhaled, anxiously chewing on his bottom lip. “I…” he gulps down a breath of air, “I know, but..”

“we’ll take it slow, unless you want me to stop.” you say, kissing up his deep v-line, nuzzling against his thick, pretty cock. he whines softly, running his hands through your hair, nodding down at you.

you give him a sweet smile and his heart skips a beat, seeing you in between his legs like that, with a perfect view of your gorgeous face, gorgeous body. his favorite girl, the prettiest girl ever, and no one else gets to see you like this.

he moans as soon as you touch him again; soft, slow kisses along his shaft. “oh, fuck,” he whispers, lovingly holding your face, spreading his thighs even wider to allow you better access. you pump him slowly, and he’s big — thick and weighty, and his skin is silky soft. seeing your dainty hands on his big cock is driving him insane.

the pit of his stomach feels molten because you have him so worked up. you gently take one of his balls in your mouth while you stroke him, his head drops back and he’s breathless. you switch to the other side and his leg jerks, biting down hard on his bottom lip to quiet his mewls, all the while you’re looking up at him through your pretty lashes.

“feels so…” he swallows hard, “oh my god..” and he whimpers, peering down at you with soft eyes, his cheeks dusted with the cutest rosy blush. “just like that, you’re so fucking good to me,”

his words go straight to your cunt and you need him inside of you or you’re gonna lose your mind, but you’re just so focused on his pleasure in that moment. you kitten lick his tip, swiping your tongue under his head and he inhales sharply, lacing his long fingers in your hair to steady himself.

you gently suckle at his velvety tip, making eye contact and he hiccups a cute little moan, his lips parted just the slightest as he watches you. and he’s so wet for you, leaking copious little beads of precum that mix with your spit. slow, you tell yourself, and you take him in your mouth, just barely stimulating him, more so focused on fitting all of him .. and it’s not easy.

you finally ease him down all the way, relaxing your throat, nose nestled in the trimmed pink hair at his base, and he whines from deep in his chest. his cock is tightly confined in a way that he didn’t expect, and it feels so fucking warm and wet.

“I can’t — nnhhh !! baby, please!!”

but of course you can’t respond, bracing your hands on his muscular thighs that you can feel trembling under your hold.

“I can’t, I’m gonna - fuck! god, your perfect mouth, oh my fucking god, y’so fucking pretty, gonna fill that cute little throat with my fucking cum—” he’s gently thrusting into your throat without realizing it, there’s drool dripping down your chin and onto your chest but you don’t mind the slightest. you just want him to feel good.

he’s panting, one hand holding your chin when he looks down and sees the state you’re in, and it’s over for him. he cums hard, groaning without restraint, shooting thick, sticky rope after rope of his sweet cum deep inside of your poor throat. you sputter and gag, pulling off, his release and oh so much spit dripping from your mouth, still connected to his pretty cock in a syrupy strand.

you break the strand with your fingertip, guiding it onto your tongue. regardless of his manhandling, you swallow happily and beam up at yuji like a champ, your hair and mascara all messy, which makes him strangely proud.

“good fucking girl, my fucking good girl.” he leans down to kiss you, licking some of the sticky mess out of your mouth, sucking on your tongue and groaning softly at the taste of his cum mixed with your lipgloss.

“think you can give me another?” you ask playfully, walking your index and middle fingers up one of his sensitive thighs.

“I wanna keep going — please, and I need you to sit on my face right fucking now.”

⟢ @slutsenpai ⟣ // masterlist // navigation

notes. I wanna write experienced yuji next, so that’s something to look forward to if u prefer him like that :3 likes, reblogs & comments much appreciated! ◟♡ do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my writing anywhere for any reason.

[seochanhwang]

3AM WAKE UP CALL - 9th member series

ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ 3ᴀᴍ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴠᴜʟɴᴇʀᴀʙʟᴇ, ʜᴏɴᴇꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴀʟ.

𝐎𝐓𝟖

hyung line || maknea line || masterlist

warnings: none? Just a couple of boys simping in secret

wc: 1206 || I take requests :)

══════════════════════════════════════

방찬 — Bang Chan

3:23 AM, the studio

He's tapping his fingers against the desk, following the beats of the new song that he's been working on for hours

His eyes are burning with sleep but he keeps them glued on the screen in front of him but when he finally turns around on his chair to ask for your opinion he's met with your sleeping figure on the couch

There's half empty boxes of take-out on the little coffee table and the ice in your lemonade has long melted and watered down your drink

You weren't even supposed to be here, chan knows you have your own meetings early morning 

But he couldn't say no or send you away when you appeared in the studio with food, drinks and that damn smile

Chan enjoys your company more than he likes to admit

“something tells me you haven't eaten yet.” 

and you're right, you're always right– he hates that you know him better than anyone else but god he's so thankful you can read him like an open book

the makeshift pillow under your head is his hoodie– he knows it'll smell like your shampoo and he makes a mental note to sniff the hell out of it before he tosses it in the laundry when he gets home

Strands of hair covering half your face but he can see squished cheek all to well

There's a tiktok playing on repeat on the phone that's still in your hands

He chuckles to himself, lips curving in a smile as he takes a quick picture— just for himself and nobody else

He takes the phone out of your hand and drapes your own hoodie over your sleeping figure

He tells himself to grow some balls and tell you how he really feels in the morning because god, he's so incredibly in love with you

He smiles to himself once more before turning back to the unfinished songs on the screen behind him

이민호 — Lee Minho

3:17 AM, the practice room

The song is blasting through the speakers for what feels like the hundredth time that night

There's sweat on both of your brows and chests are heaving after yet another attempt to put down a choreography for the upcoming song

You've been bickering back and forth all night and if it were any of the other guys Lee would've waved them off but he truly values your opinion and knows you're right more often than not

You're mad and annoyed at yourself for not being able to hit the same moves, huffing and puffing as you pace the room

Lee watches you in the mirror, song water from the bottle you tossed to him earlier

“We can try another move.” His words nearly sends you into rage because no, this is it

And he knows he's wrong for tossing the empty water bottle in your direction and angrily demand to take a break because he's sure you'll pass out from exhaustion if try again

His heart breaks a little when he notices the way you're trying to fight the tears from falling down your flushed cheeks

He loves you and your determination, really but he rather spends another day figuring out a new routine then watch you struggle for a single second

All Lee wants to do is pin you against the couch and keep you there for a minute or two

But you're stubborn, god you're so so stubborn

“One more try,”

“No, we're taking a break.”

“No.”

It's a fight he'll never win and he knows it but it's worth the try

You try again, one, two, three more times and when you finally get it right–

Lee know barely manages to keep his balance when you throw yourself in his arms, screaming and laughing

He's sure you've never hugged him this tight so he wraps his arms around your waist just as tight because who knows when this would happen again

but when you both pull back and face inches away from each other, you both push each other away because maybe this unspoken thing should stay unspoken and dance practice should stay just dance practice

서창빈 — Seo Changbin

3:14 AM, the hotel gym

Damn boy, who are you trying to impress?”

“Put those guns down or I'll call the police.”

“my god, look at those muscles baby.”

Changbin would be lying if he said he doesn't know why he keeps inviting you to his 3am gym sessions– you're his hype man

the endless compliments and teasing leaving his cheeks flushed and hurting from the continuous smile on his face

You're just there, wandering around the gym, munching on a bag of chips you've stolen from his room earlier, inspecting equipment or poking his arms every other minute but it's enough to make his sessions ten times better

“All of that just to manhandle Seungmin on stage.”

“Jealous?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

but changbin knows because you never made it a secret that he was exactly your type

He's just too chicken to act upon it

He promises you unlimited piggy back rides if you try to lift his weight at least once

and he knows you're not saying no to that

His hands get sweaty as he stands behind you, hands everywhere to help you get into the right stance

Hands lingering a little too long before he clears his throat and takes a step back awkwardly

But he cackles that signature changbin laugh when you fail and mumble something about rather watching him getting all sweaty and disgusting than dying on the spot by trying to lift twenty times your weight

He'll watch you sit down on one of the benches, bag of chips back in your hand

“Bet you can't lift more.”

“You're so weak.”

“You should practice more.”

He'll endure the teasing because he knows you don't mean it, because he loves it when you make fun of him, because he loves having you around and because he's hopelessly in love with you

황현진 — Hwang Hyunjin

3:09 AM, hotel room 203

Spending time in hyunjin's room after a show should be on the top of your list of hobbies

And having you around after a show is on hyunjin's list of favorite things in the world

Because it's soft, calm and intimate

It's hyunjin smiling at your text message, telling him your on your way

It's the dramatic sigh that falls from your lips as you toe your shoes off and let yourself fall onto his bed

It's the latest gossip that you've heard backstage earlier that sends both of you spiraling

It's the way he wonders how you could be real and in his bed as the yellow light from the bedside table casts behind you like a golden halo

It's the way he lets you flip through his sketchbook and listen to him ramble about his latest drawings

It's the way you have trouble keeping your eyes open as he sketches away because the sound of pencil on paper simply puts you to sleep

And it's the way hyunjin will rip the page out of his sketchbook and hides it in his suitcase because you don't have to know that he has a collection of sketches of you fast asleep next to him

There's no need for you to know he's down bad when whatever you have going on right now is good enough for the both of you.

[iwoulddieforher]

hii request for casey and alex, set in s13 (still mad they didn’t have any scenes together smh)

they’re married but keep the relationship private from work so the squad doesn’t know but end up finding out somehow (idk how lol i’m not that creative)

anyway just something with casey and alex being in hopelessly in love and the squad wondering how they never noticed anything. feel free to add whatever, we all need more alex and casey stories.

lol ignore if you don’t want to write it but just wanted to say i love your writing!

Everybody Talks | a.cabot × c.novak

hi, sweetheart. sorry it took me so long to finish this - also for @manfrii

~6k words of office shenanigans as Elliot & Olivia try to figure out who Casey's seeing, and a very smug Alex milks the situation for all it's worth.

warnings for 18+ content- voyeurism, fingering (both a & c receiving), public foreplay, office sex, risky sex ...

“I’m not sure I’m drinking tonight,” Elliot had said gruffly when Casey had swung by, offering a beer and a plan to watch tonight's game at the cop bar around the corner. “But I’ll come with you, and see how I feel. The game should be good, regardless.” 

Three, or maybe four, perhaps five, but Elliot would not be able to tell; he was wasted, leaning and laughing very heartily at something Casey had just said that he would similarly never be able to repeat or remember because, as previously stated and here now to be emphasized, Elliot was wasted. 

He probably looked like a dumbass, elbows on the grimy counter as he laughed until he was wheezing, but with Casey giggling,- she wouldn't admit to giggling tomorrow, but that part only he’d remember, because he liked when she finally dropped that guard she’d erected around herself since the end of her suspension- a cold beer in his hand, and the after-game random shit blaring on the TV above them, he really couldn't care less. 

It felt like they were back in their twenties, after a softball match- neither played anymore, not now- and the beer tasted as good as nostalgia one wants to savor does when you had someone to share it with.

Casey was leaning over the surface with one arm on the counter for support, twirling her straw in circles and taking it out in random intervals to flick and play with it. She had her other wrist over her face, trying to muffle her laughter as it finally began to subside, her chest heaving in an effort to catch her breath after the giggles ran their course. 

“But really, what the hell was Beck’s fucking deal anyway?” Casey reiterated, tracing the same dead horse they’d been beating for the past while in her mind, a scoff in her raspy voice. 

“She wanted me,” Elliot answered immediately, cocky in a way only a drunk man could ever be. “She wanted all of this-” and here, he leaned off the table to flex his muscles with raised eyebrows and a smirk, “so bad.” His drunken slur only made Casey scoff again with an amused eye roll. 

“Reckless as hell, but she was never blind, El, and if you think you in your Grahh-where-is-Olivia pout is attractive to anyone-” 

“Hey,” he said sharply, “I do not pout. Manly men don't pout.” 

“OH, and you're the manliest of men, aren't cha?” Casey laughed, teasing him as he made an over-exaggerated frown. He crossed his arms, trying to puff out his triceps and shoulders as he did so, which rewarded him with a bark of laughter that had Casey almost falling off the chair. 

He relaxed himself, a very pleased smile on his face, as he downed the rest of his beer. Casey tried and proceeded to fail at composing herself, shifting her hips in an effort to acquaint herself with a center of gravity her mind couldn't find and hiding her undying grin with the back of her hand. 

“Really, though,” Casey rasped, “If she ever wanted either of our dicks, I guarantee you, she wanted mine.” 

“Ah, you?” Elliot answered with mock surprise, “The redeye stubborn ass workaholic lawyer with no play? You sure, Ms. Novak?” 

Casey smirked, casting a conspiratorial glance his way. “I’m better with women than you’d know, Elliot.” 

“And what exactly do you mean by that?” He crossed his arms, leaning forward on the table, but Casey’s attention had already diverted to the empty glass in front of her. 

“You know what else I’m better at? Drinking. You’re drunk as hell and I’m still ready for a new glass.” She boasted, even as her foot slid on the perch of the barstool she had rested it on, and she had to scramble slightly before she did genuinely fall off her chair. 

“Yeah, Miss Giggles?” Elliot responded, waving her bartender over and signalling for two new beers. His vision was starting to spin around the edges, and if he moved his head too fast, he was missing the frames between the two perspectives, but with company as hearty as Casey was to him and a night as comfortable as this one, he could hardly care. 

It was a while later, both of them increasingly needing the counter for support and still stumbling regardless, until Elliot’s forehead met the back of his hand, and he finally admitted defeat. Casey looked equally drunk although still upright, but he wouldn't admit she could handle her alcohol better than he, and he knew it was time to call himself a cab. 

He fumbled himself outside, Casey walking just slightly behind him with an amused smirk plastered on her face and her hands in her pockets, her spine still infuriatingly straight despite the fact that she also couldn't walk in a straight line either. She shot off a quick text and he sat down on the side of the street, taking a couple of deep breaths.

“..’ma call myself cab,” he slurred when Casey offered, “jus- … let me get my head t’gthr.” 

She plopped herself down to sit on the ground beside him, leaning back on the cold concrete of the building behind him, and patted him on the shoulder. 

“Keep telling ‘ya not to try to keep up with me,” she chided, and he waved his hand as though dismissing the obvious. 

Elliot didn't look up, but he could feel the way she rolled her eyes with a shake of her head and a very drunk but knowing smile on her face. He closed his eyes for a second and tried to mirror the deep breaths she was doing, sucking in the cool and very muggy air of New York.

He immediately coughed, wheezing, his nose wrinkled. “Air quality fucking sucks in this damn city.” 

“‘could say that ‘ngain, brother.” Casey hummed drowsily, a lit cigarette having appeared between her teeth as she flashed another smug smile at him. 

Casey had long since abandoned the burnt stub when Elliot finally signed deeply and stood, large rough hands swiping at himself and his clothing to clean off the feeling of grime from sitting on the floor outside, and stumbled forward to wave down a passing taxi driver. 

He turned, glancing over at Casey, who was also beginning to stand behind him. “You need one?” 

She looked up, then glanced up the street, and a smile was on her face when she looked back. “Nah. No need. My ride’s here.”

Elliot shrugged, his focus zoned in on the fantasy of a warm bed, fresh clothes and a pillow to lay his very heavy feeling head on, hand raised as he stood high on the side of the street until a yellow car began to slow beside him. He turned and waved goodbye to Casey, who had begun walking up and towards whoever was picking her up, and she raised her own hand in goodbye too. 

He climbed into the backseat, scrunched his eyes closed in focus to remember his own address, before nodding to himself- he got it right- and glancing out the window as the taxi began to pull back into the open lane. 

Casey was standing beside an expensive car, but that's not straight where his gaze went- it was on her hands, and the way they were wrapped around the waist of a tall blonde figure. 

As he watched with suddenly wide eyes, Casey pushed whoever it was against the car, drew herself in along with them, and pressed her lips against the other woman’s as hands raised to cradle her face. 

It was passionate, intimate, the way the woman's hands had raised, and the way one was slipping down to bunch the fabric of Casey's jacket to pull the redhead closer against her body on the car door. 

Elliot turned back to face forward, feeling like he was struck by lightning, freezing up for a second before spinning back around to stare. 

“I didn't know she was seeing someone,” he said in shock to his taxi driver with a voice filled with bewilderment, “She never mentioned that! The hell?” 

“You win some, you lose some, right?” The taxi driver droned, and Elliot flattened his lips when he realized the man had chalked his outrage up to an assumed want for Casey. 

“That's my sister,” he said flatly, his voice still slurred from one too many beers, but very indignant. The taxi driver apologized but Elliot’s attention had already diverted, trying to catch a last glimpse down the street as they turned a corner, even though the shape of Casey and her companion were only fuzzy shapes in the distance.

He never saw them stop kissing- they were entangled together, legs and arms interwoven with a familiarity that meant something obvious. His eyes were on them until they physically couldn't be anymore, and he never saw them surface for air. 

It was clear that Casey Novak was in love with someone- didn't bother to tell him, which made him feel rather indignant- and his drunken mind had only one conclusion: detective work couldn't stop, just because he was off the clock.

“Should we get Elliot coffee, too?” Alex questioned, hands snugly in her pocket to protect against the breeze of a coming autumn that had swept across the city this morning. 

She stood beside Olivia, who was counting change in the palm of her hand. Alex thought her adamant regard to making sure she used up all her coins was sweet, but she had no need to do so- she normally just handed the coins back or put them in the nearest tip jar she could find. 

As such, a soft smile was on her face, not only out of fondness for her best friend’s habits but also simply the feeling that consumed the air today. It was a good day. She was content. 

Olivia snorted. She pocketed the change she didn't need and inched forward in the line for the coffee cart. “He needs tea, frankly. He got wasted last night with Casey and now he's been drowsily moping around the computer trying to figure something out.” 

“He was with Casey last night?” Alex blinked, a hand raising to her lips unconsciously.

“Yeah. Those dumbasses keep drinking together on work nights at this shitty bar down the road.” 

“Fordham’s, I know it, I was there once with her.” Alex responded automatically, the fib slipping into her speech without particular care for it. No, she hadn't been inside the bar with Casey before. But she knew of it and had been with her around it.

Olivia raised an eyebrow, but it was their turn to order. After ordering five coffees- one for Olivia, Alex, Fin, John, and Cragen- plus a green tea as a half-joke that Stabler wouldn't end up drinking and Alex probably would, she didn't think to push it. She wasn't suspicious- not really- it just seemed odd that Alex would be at a place as, frankly, run down as Fordham's was.

When they returned after a leisurely walk back down to the precinct, Stabler was exactly where Liv had said he’d be, typing things into the computer, one arm on the table with his head tipped to the side and his eyes scrunched as if even in the overcast lighting the room was too bright for him. 

“Are you still on your bullshit?” Olivia said, although her voice was a mix of amused and skeptical, handing Elliot the paper cup they’d acquired. 

He took a sip and immediately spit it back out on the floor beside him.

“Why’d you bring me leaves?” He muttered under his breath, grouchy and grumbly. “I’m working here, I deserve coffee.” 

“Yes, working,” Olivia said, leaning over his shoulder and slowly raising a brow, “That's why you're stalking our counselor’s… Facebook page?” 

“Why are you on my Facebook page?” Alex wrinkled her nose, swinging one leg up to sit with her legs crossed neatly on Olivia’s desk, a coffee cup in her hand that Elliot snatched quickly without asking. She rolled her eyes and picked up the green tea she’d already resigned herself to drinking. Elliot was very predictable when it came to certain things.

“Not yours,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, “I’m just looking for something.” 

“Hardwicke’s?” Alex prompted once he lapsed back into intent silence, and Olivia did nothing other than stare at the screen with both eyebrows raised, eyes flicking from the screen to the top of his balding head with an ‘are-you-serious’ expression she could trademark. 

“What? No, Casey's.”

“Casey's?” The blonde’s curiosity was piqued, turning with growing interest. “What is there you might find on her Facebook that you wouldn't be able to simply ask about?” 

“He’s delusional, and he knows Casey will tease him until the end of the Earth if he asks her flat-out.” Olivia said wryly, patting him condescendingly on the top of his bald head as though he were a child. He frowned at her. 

“What's he being delusional about?” Alex asked over his head, in the same tone a sympathetic mother would in a conversation about children’s habits with another adult, and Elliot frowned at her in turn. 

“I am right here,” he said firmly in a flat voice. “And you’d be doing the same damn thing if you saw what I did last night.” 

Alex’s eyes flickered from his, firm and stony in whatever he had chosen to divest his attention into, to Olivia’s, who was staring at her with a face that said ‘wait-till-you-hear-this-shit’. 

“He was wasted,” Olivia said, offering context and interrupting Elliot right as he began to open his mouth to explain. 

“Go sit down, cranky woman,” Elliot waved his hands to shoo Olivia away from her stance of standing right over his shoulder. She made another face that Alex snorted lightly at, before coming around the table and sitting herself down at her desk. 

“I had a couple beers, yes, but I know- I’m pretty sure I know- what I saw,” he said, interlocking his fingers and leaning back against the backrest of his desk chair self-importantly, “Casey Novak. Our prosecutor.” 

“Our prosecutor and your irresponsible drinking partner,” Olivia said dryly.

“She’s mad that I didn't invite her to come with us, but I only asked because she said she had a date-” Elliot said over her, flashing her a look in the way those two did, which Alex could not completely decipher and had long since given up in trying to. 

“He called out on me!” Olivia complained, “If I had known you two-” 

“Hush, children,” Alex raised a hand and both shut up and turned to her automatically- she almost laughed at how easily that had worked- “I’m curious now. What did you think you saw, Elliot? And why is that more important than the legitimate paperwork you have yet to fill out?” 

“She was making out with someone.” 

Alex’s eyebrows shot up. “She was what?” 

“I was in my cab on the way home, right? Don't think she knew I could still see her. She goes up to this woman- like she knew her already, right? And they start making out, like really making out, against the car right there on the street.” 

He leaned back further as if he was proud of himself for accidentally snooping. Alex could laugh, but she didn't, although her lips quirked up in an enthused smirk.

“Oh? And what did she look like?” 

“That's where he can't figure out, because as previously said, he was shitfaced and the only thing he can remember is a blur.” Olivia interjected quickly, even though when Alex glanced back at her she had compiled papers in front of her and began to fill them out as if she weren't as invested in this conversation as the other two were. 

Elliot looked mildly sheepish, now, lips pressed into a line. “Well, she was blonde- her hair was kind of like yours, Alex- the same height as Casey- um.. I couldn't see much else about her because- also as previously said-, I was distracted by Casey devouring her face.” 

Alex laughed at that, a burst of a giggle, at Casey’s way of kissing being described that way. She heard Olivia scoff, amused, too.

“So? Did your cyber stalking pull anything up?” Olivia prompted dryly, raising her eyebrows, but the facade had long fallen for Alex’s eyes. She was as curious and fascinated with the idea of Casey’s secret lover-girl as Elliot was. 

He clearly hadn't found anything worthwhile, because he didn't respond, just tapped his fist on the armrest as if deep in contemplation. 

“Maybe you could ask her, Alex?” He ventured, “You two are coworkers, after all.” 

“But how much do they actually talk?” Olivia imposed herself again, almost indignant. “You're probably closer with Casey than Alex would be-” 

Alex huffed quietly. She was closer to Casey than they knew, obviously, but she supposed most of their interactions happened quietly behind the doors of the DA’s office, so she wouldn't shame Olivia for not knowing. 

“What, it’s not like you know either-?” Elliot snapped at her, and Alex could tell he was growing tired of her comments.

Olivia’s eyes flickered off to the side as an apology. They really did have their own way of communicating, even if Alex didn't get it. 

“I’m sure she’ll tell me when she wants to,” Olivia muttered quietly, but Elliot jerked a brow and she sighed. Alex noted that down, too. Olivia and Casey’s friendship had been deteriorating. She’d noticed and heard Casey complain, but it was growing more apparent. 

“Well, you're a detective, aren't you?” Alex swung the conversation back around to Elliot, who looked up at her as she smiled smugly down at him, “Detect.” 

“It's easier when you have our back with warrants and threats of subpoenas and all the other lawyerly shit you do to make our investigations run easy,” Stabler muttered begrudgingly, and she grinned. 

“Then I’ll help… be a distraction. Text me when you want to do some sleuthing, and I’ll get Casey out of your hair. Yeah?” 

Elliot blinked at her, surprised and mildly suspicious, but when Olivia caught on to the idea and sat up a bit straighter, he seemed to be convinced. 

“She's organized- maybe something could be in her calendar?” Olivia suggested immediately, in a hushed tone, as if she’d been waiting for the ability to start snooping. “And if it's someone from the DA’s office, maybe it would be in her email?” 

“So we need to get inside her office,” Elliot continued, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk and his hands locked together as though he was knee deep into the idea now. “Any idea, Alex?” 

“I’ve got it,” Alex said, barely able to contain her amusement. “You just tell me when, and I’ll get her out of her office. Now, unlike you two, obviously, I’ve got work to do, so I’ll see you in a bit for your testimony rehearsal-” she jerked her chin at Olivia- “and you… Owe me lunch, so either the next time I see you or whenever you finally make good on that.” 

She smiled and stood up politely, returning Elliot’s easy grin, before turning on her heel and escorting herself out of the precinct. 

“Try to make sure her computer’s unlocked when you do!” Elliot called out at her retreating figure, and she smirked. They had no idea what an excellent distraction she’d make. 

Elliot Stabler → It's go time.

Alex knocked gently on the doorframe as she entered Casey’s office, a smirk on her face when the redhead’s face snapped up immediately to greet her. 

“Alex,” she said breathlessly, “Sorry, I know we were on for lunch earlier, but I got pulled on a warrant request, so-” 

“Don't worry about that,” Alex cooed, bypassing her desk and sliding a hand under Casey’s jaw, tilting her head up so she could smile down at her adoringly. “Is your computer logged in?” 

“No,” Casey said, confused but ever accepting of whatever Alex was up to. “I haven't needed to use it today.” 

“Unlock it and open your email, and then you and I are going to leave this office and go somewhere quiet,” Alex said smoothly, and although Casey wrinkled her face with confusion, she woke up her desktop, clicked in the password, opened her email and stood up, pushing her rolling chair backwards as she did. 

The blonde kissed her briefly on the cheek, an encouragement and a soft thank you for her trust, before leading the ginger-haired woman outside- winking at Elliot’s face poked around the corner as she did so- and down the corridor of the DA’s office. 

She wasted little time the second they turned a corner and were hidden from view. 

Casey exhaled sharply from her nose when Alex shoved her backward into the first storage closet she found. Random boxes full of papers and notes along one wall, the rest of the room lined with aluminum racks filled with an assortment of items and materials someone would probably need eventually, but certainly not right now. Regardless, if they did, they wouldn't get it. Alex flipped the lock, feeling her smirk grow on her face. 

“What's up with you?” Casey breathed when Alex stalked closer, feeling predatory and smooth. Her fingers wasted even less time than she had finding somewhere to pull her into, wandering below her blouse and trailing up her back in the learned way she knew would affect Casey the way she wanted to. 

“Elliot,” she said, kissing the tip of the nose she adored so much, “Saw you,” she interrupted herself again, kissing her lips and loving the little gasp Casey made when she tried to chase it. 

“He saw you kissing me,” Alex smiled into her lips, not letting Casey follow her mouth when she tried to draw back but letting the redhead stay close enough that each word was felt against her. “That night outside the bar.” 

“Oh,” Casey said slowly, her attention split between what Alex was saying and the way her hands had crept up her back to undo the clasp on her bra. “-wha-?”

She looked concerned, in a sweet way, a small crease between her brows and a small frown shaping her lips. “I’m sorry- know you said that- Alex, what are you doing?” 

Alex slid her hands around to the front, nuzzling her face into Casey’s neck until she turned her head to the side enough for Alex to graze her teeth against the sensitive crook of her collar. 

“He doesn't know it was me, though,” Alex grinned, her smile cat-like and sly against Casey’s warmed skin. “You got him drunk enough to not register who it was. They- Elliot and Olivia- are trying to snoop for information in your office on who your mysterious lover is, right now, while I have you in my hands like this.” 

Casey mirrored Alex’s smile instantly, her eyebrows shooting up. “Oh,” she said again, her voice dropping an octave, a purr that made Alex groan softly. “That turns you on, doesn't it?” 

Casey’s hands moved to undo the button on her blazer, and Alex chuffed, pressing her back against one of the racks, an inverse of the position Casey had had her against the car, but today Alex was the one in control.

Alex made quick work of the buttons on Casey’s clothing and slipped her out of it, leaving them in a heap on the floor rather carelessly, but with the way Casey was making soft sounds in her ear when her lips met her neck, Alex really couldn't care less. 

“Fuck, Alex,” Casey choked softly, head thumping against the metal pole. She hissed, Alex’s hands caressing her thighs so soft and so gentle it made her abdomen pulse, sudden arousal almost hurting in how bad she needed Alex to soothe it.

“Yes,” Alex murmured, “I know. And I’ll give it to you. But this is fun for me.” 

Casey bit down on Alex’s shoulder when two fingers slid into her, slow and lithe and just enough to make her feel the need to muffle herself, moving up with just enough pressure to consume her without the intensity that would be satisfying. 

Green eyes squeezed shut and Alex’s own eyelids fluttered- partially from the pain of perfect impressions of Casey’s teeth sinking into her shoulder- but her feeling of triumph did not fade. 

“Besides,” she continued in a soft, teasing murmur as Casey groaned around her, arched her back to try to coax Alex deeper, “I’m supposed to be a good distraction, aren't I?” 

Elliot Stabler → We didn't find anything. Reconvene, we’ll try something else.

In the next few weeks, Casey ensured the clothes she wore that day had buttons because it was simpler for when Alex would inevitably approach her with a finger raised to her lips for silence, a twisted gleam in her eye, and a conspiracy concocted by Olivia and Elliot to figure out who the mysterious woman was. 

Being slung over her own office couch as Elliot ‘scouted’ outside the DA’s office on a day when Casey hadn't taken her bike to see if a blonde woman came to pick her up, while a blonde woman held her face to a crack in the blinds while her fingers fucked into her from behind. 

Alex’s hands sliding into the skirt she’d worn that day, all four of them out at the bar, Olivia pretending to make casual conversation about seeing someone and eyeing Casey up every few moments to see if the beer Elliot had been supplying her with led to her slipping up and admitting something. Olivia oh-so-casually mentioning women being good kissers while Casey clenched her jaw together as Alex got cocky with her exploration. 

The woman had gone so far to start taking scandalous pictures of herself, so when Olivia mentioned going to hang out in Casey’s office to see if she’d mention something or get a suspicious call, Alex could send her something sneaky to make Casey practice her ability to compose a poker face as quickly as possible when she opened her phone to Alex sprawled over their bed, phone above her in her hand while her other hand toyed with a pair of handcuffs. 

“Dare I suggest you’re having too much fun with this?” Casey mused, wine glass in her hand as she lounged on Alex's couch. It had been a long day- her favorite type of long day, though. A short workday and then long hours sorting through her boxes as she moved things into Alex’s penthouse. 

Alex laughed, alcohol blush settling on her sides of her cheeks and on the tips of her ears in the way it did, and smiled at her. 

“It's funny,” Alex said simply, “I like feeling smug about it.” 

“Yes, sweetheart,” Casey drawled, downing the rest of the contents of the glass and setting the empty container on the coffee table, “I know. You’re being exceptionally smug.” 

She swung one leg over Alex’s lap, grinning down at her when Alex flashed her the most innocent smile the blonde could muster, “But I’ve had enough of that sly smile of yours,” she husked, pressing her lips against Alex’s and settling her arms around her shoulders as Alex rolled her hips once to enjoy the feeling of Casey’s body on top of her. “I’d quite like to wipe it off your face.”

“By all means,” Alex cooed, nipping at Casey’s earlobe as the redhead leaned to kiss the side of her blushed cheek, and although she still seemed very sly, Alex was completely aware that within the next half hour her back would be bending in a way she hadn’t previously known to be possible. Casey flashed her another knowing smile, before tilting her head to the side, and letting her lips join Alex’s. 

Her hands buried into locks of silky blonde hair, and she tugged Alex’s head backwards gently, nails scratching lightly at her scalp the way she knew Alex liked. Months of familiarity, years of kissing and conversations and soft words and gentle touches were obvious in the way Alex’s body responded immediately to Casey’s touch- she had no doubt this night would be as perfect as all the other ones had been, and all the future ones she’d yet to have with her. 

Casey had just gotten Alex’s shirt thrown over the armchair and her shorts somewhere haphazardly on the floor when her phone went off. 

She glanced at it, preparing to roll her eyes and decline, but when Elliot’s caller ID glowed on the screen, her lips parted wordlessly before shifting into a replica of the same attitude Alex had been sporting for the better part of the last month. 

“Novak,” she responded instinctively when she picked up the phone, batting a wink at Alex, whose blush had deepened and mouth had fallen open slightly in realization of how the tables had just flipped. 

“Yeah, Elliot?” Casey continued, overemphasizing his name for Alex’s sake, even though the blonde had figured out through context why Casey must’ve decided to take the call. Her heart thudded in her chest while excitement grew in her nerves, her eyes widening although she had fully expected it when Casey’s hand slid back between her thighs and began to toy with the lace on her lower abdomen as though carelessly. Taunting- no, teasing, soft.

“No, I’m alone right now, what’s going on?” The redhead smiled, her eyes half-lidded as she stared back at Alex. Her back had arched, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, glasses hanging low on her nose, when she glanced from Casey’s hand up to the sly glint in her green eyes. “You’re calling late, everything okay?”

“Oh, I don’t know about a bar tonight,” She sighed, voice casual and collected as she nudged the scrap of lace down, slipping her fingers below the fabric oh-so-slowly, Alex’s hips bucking as though she couldn’t figure out if she wanted to writhe away or move away from the torturous pads of Casey’s fingers. “I might be … No, haven’t really decided on my plans.”

“The plan is letting me finish, right?” Alex murmured as quietly as she could, raising an eyebrow. 

Casey smirked at her, raising her eyebrows high, before beginning to circle Alex’s clit in firm, brutally patient circles that had her resuming her lip’s previous position between her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut and pushing her head back against the couch, blonde hair forming a frame around her face as her face warmed. 

“Sorry, no, I have the TV on,” Casey chuffed, “And I’m still deciding my plans… oh, Olivia’s with you?”

Alex choked on a groan when Casey’s hand shifted in a way the redhead had known would make her vocal, a small sound escaping her lips, and Casey smirked before drawing the phone in the opposite direction and lowering her voice. 

“If you can’t hold your tongue, I’m sure one of the gags in our bedroom will do just fine for tonight, won’t it? I’m making you pay for all your stunts, dearest.”

With a cocky side-smirk, she held the phone to her ear again and faked enthusiasm, her fingers moving in patterns beneath Alex’s panties, changing just when Alex had gotten used to the ministrations and just enough to catch her off guard, make her want to protest and plead, without enough to get her there. Without enough to be satisfying or make her feel full the way she damn near needed Casey to consume her. 

“I’m on speaker?” Casey asked in innocent surprise, her pupils blown with lust as she stared down at Alex, who had begun to squirm softly. “Well, I don’t know about going out, but you can certainly try to … convince me.” 

She held her phone down on the mute button and whispered regardless, her voice raspy and completely victorious, “And then you, Alex, can try to convince me to let you come.”

“Maybe it was just a random hookup,” Olivia was muttering to Elliot as he crossed his arms and leaned against his desk, “Maybe you just don’t want to admit she does very well with women and can go from talking to making out in the time it took you to climb into a cab.”

Alex smiled to herself into her coffee cup, taking a long sip of it as nonchalantly as she could. 

Elliot snorted. “It’s more likely I was just straight hallucinating.” 

“So, are you two giving up then?” Alex asked innocently, turning her head to the side and rejoining their conversation. It was nearly time to leave the precinct- the sun had set on a chilly day, Casey would be coming to drop off some files at Cragen’s office, and then they’d be going home together as they now always did. 

“Don’t tell me you were never curious, Alex,” Olivia pursed her lips impatiently and interlocked her fingers, leaning forward with her eyes trained up at the woman sitting on her desk. “You’ve been participating in all our attempts to figure this out, and you don’t care to know at all?”

“Not particularly,” Alex smiled, “I just like aiding you two as you try your best to fuck around effectively-” 

“You like watching us be fools,” Elliot interjected, “She probably told you, didn’t she? Brought her to some lawyerly convention you both attended?” 

Alex opened her mouth and was about to respond when the door chimed to signal the arrival of the woman of discussion- well, Alex was also the woman of discussion, but the other two didn’t quite know that yet- Casey Novak, in a button-up blouse Alex remembered she’d almost torn a button off of last week and heels that made Alex’s mouth water and her eyes to struggle not to dart down to her ass. She offered a casual smile, nodding once as her hands were too full of files to wave instead, before passing the table and winking at Alex only once when she knew the other two wouldn’t see. 

“Are you two even friends?” Elliot asked, his voice a bit gruffer than it really should’ve been, but after working this hard at a tidbit of information he still thought Casey should’ve just offered up on her own, he was frustrated. “I’ve never seen you two together- or speak, at all.” 

“I’ve spoken to Casey quite a lot,” Alex scoffed, “Our offices in the DA’s office are close together, and we were friends before her suspension while I was still working for Homicide, remember? She was the prosecutor for my case. We got close after she put the Irishman behind bars.” 

“I guess.” He muttered, stretching his arms over his head and standing straight to move back around to his desk. 

“I’d wager she probably knows me better than she knows you,” Alex ventured slowly, feeling simultaneously dejection from the sense that the game she’d been enjoying so fully and reaping the benefits of as well as the onset of triumph of knowing she was about to win. Olivia turned to her with both eyebrows raised, and Elliot turned to her with both bushy eyebrows furrowed.

Alex caught something that flashed behind Olivia’s eyes as she sat back slowly, gears turning in her head as a note of suspicion and confusion settled over her face. Elliot looked as unaware and furrowed as he normally did. 

Casey had set down what she needed in Cragen’s office and exchanged pleasantries. She turned, caught the glint in Alex’s eyes when the blonde turned her head towards the door and raised an eyebrow, sauntering her way over as mysteriously as the two detectives beside Alex apparently kept acting as though she was. 

“Hey there,” Casey said, her voice low and knowing as she greeted Alex first, “How’s your day been, Alex?”

“It’d be a lot better with a kiss from my wife,” Alex hummed, batting her eyelashes once in theatrics, and Casey smirked. 

Casey’s hands were warm and smooth when they reached to cradle her jaw, and her lips were as soft as they always were, so enrapturing that Alex’s eyes closed immediately and she mildly forgot to watch Olivia’s face from the corner of her eye and only remembered when the two detectives made identical sounds of surprise, bewilderment and a healthy amount of indignant outrage. 

They separated to shocked silence. They both stared at them blankly, minds whirling as though something had catastrophically shifted. 

Alex smiled smugly, tugging on the gold chain around Casey’s neck, revealing the golden ring tipped with a diamond that had been tucked snugly against her sternum, and then freed her matching one from its similar confines, holding them suspended in the air for inspection. 

Olivia looked like her brain had been fried. 

Elliot looked like he was about to metamorphose into a time bomb.

Elliot’s chair made a thudding sound when it hit the back of the thankfully unoccupied desk behind him. “The whole time!?” He burst out, “Alex, the whole fucking time? All of that ‘oh, I can help you distract her’ and you were-”

“Throwing me in storage closets to make out,” Casey interrupted smugly, pinching Alex’s hip when the blonde opened her mouth to say something snide about doing more than just kissing in the boastful way she did when Alex felt she wanted to brag about her wife. “Yes, our resident deviant here was orchestrating a cross-teaming conspiracy.”

“Resident deviant,” Alex echoed in a gasp, pretending to be affronted, but cut off when Casey pinched her waist- Alex swatted at her hands and Casey laughed. Olivia groaned into her hands. 

“I don’t know what the hell kind of pay back I need to cook up now,” Olivia muttered, glaring at Alex in what she thought was a ferocious way, but Alex rather patronizingly perceived as an aggravated cat, “But it’ll be coming to you, I promise.” 

“I think I’ve already served my dues,” Alex said quietly, smugly, tugging Casey to her side, and Casey flashed her a look. 

“What…” Olivia said, her voice as though she was utterly disappointed in them, and Elliot buried his head in his hands. “I don’t think I even want to know.” 

“Wonderful,” Casey said brightly, “Then, if no one has any other objections, I think I’ll be taking my wife home now.” 

“Get out.” Elliot said without raising his head from his hands, and frankly, Alex would not be that surprised- although she would still burst out laughing- if he sank down to the floor. 

“You broke Elliot,” Olivia called over her shoulder as Casey began leading Alex to the door, “He’ll still be processing this when you get in tomorrow!”

“He could’ve just asked me,” Casey called back, equally loud, although her voice carried a tone of unabashed amusement. “I would’ve told him.”

[snnowwpheenix]

how the Jujutsu Kaisen men + Aoi Todo would react to having a wife who makes clothes—whether it’s intricate old-fashioned robes, modern chic outfits, or magical, hand-stitched statement pieces full of creativity and care:

Gojo Satoru

He lives for it. The moment he finds out you sew, he goes full model mode:

“Babe, I knew I was born to wear couture.” Whether it's a sleek modern blazer or a centuries-old style kimono, he’s strutting through the house like it's a runway. He brags to anyone who'll listen: “This? Custom. One of one. Made by my incredibly hot wife.” And if you ever make matching outfits? He’ll wear them everywhere. Even when it’s dramatic as hell. “What? She stitched this dragon into the sleeve by hand. I’m gonna show it off!”

Geto Suguru

Loves the calm, methodical beauty of your craft. He watches you pin fabric and mark seams with quiet admiration.

“You create art people can wear… It’s beautiful.” He’ll hang out beside you while you work, occasionally offering tea or rubbing your shoulders when you’ve been at it for hours. If you make traditional-style robes? He wears them reverently. “You stitched a piece of your soul into this. I can feel it.” Praises the detail every time—especially when you sneak little symbols or messages in the stitching. “This little motif… is it supposed to mean protection?”

Sukuna

At first?

“You play with fabric.” Until you drop a flawlessly detailed, embroidered haori in his lap and say, “I made this for you.” He shuts up real quick. Wears it like royalty. Won’t let anyone touch it. Will threaten people if they wrinkle it: “She spent three days on this sleeve. Three days. Keep your filthy hands off.” Pretends he doesn’t care when you’re sewing—but sits nearby, glancing at your hands like he’s trying to memorize the motions. Lowkey wants you to make him an entire throne room’s worth of robes and refuses to admit it.

Nanami Kento

He’s stunned by the quality. The moment you hand him a tailored vest or button-up with your signature stitchwork, he’s speechless.

“You… made this? From nothing?” Immediately starts ordering his entire wardrobe from you, insisting on paying (which you of course refuse). Deeply respects the craftsmanship. He notices every detail—the way the seams are reinforced, the way it fits like a second skin. And when you give him something cozy to wear after a long day? “There’s comfort in wearing something made by the person you love.”

Toji Fushiguro

Acts like he doesn’t care:

“Clothes are clothes, who cares.” But the second you make him a jacket that fits him just right, he doesn’t take it off. Lowkey proud that you make your own stuff—especially when people compliment it and he gets to say, “Yeah. My wife made it.” Will fall asleep on the couch while you're sewing, and wake up with a half-made hoodie over him. Later? You see him wearing it at the store like it’s no big deal. “What? It's warm.” (Translation: He’s obsessed.)

Yuji Itadori

He thinks it’s the coolest thing ever. He’s all:

“YOU MADE THAT? WITH YOUR HANDS??” Wears everything you make with full-hearted joy, even if it’s wildly experimental or silly. “A hoodie with banana-print lining? Absolutely. Iconic.” He’s also incredibly proud of you. Boasts about your skills to his friends, to strangers, even to random delivery drivers. And when you make something that really hits—like an outfit you designed just for yourself—he gets all soft-eyed and stammering: “You… you look amazing. Seriously. Like…wow.”

Megumi Fushiguro

Quiet admiration. The first time you hand him a hand-stitched shirt, he just blinks for a second, runs his fingers over the seams, then softly says,

“This is… really good.” He doesn’t need flash, but when something fits him perfectly—and he knows you made it? He treasures it. Always notices when you wear something new that you made. “That’s new. It looks nice on you.” He won’t say it out loud, but every time you make something for him, he feels loved. And that means everything to him.

Choso

Absolutely mesmerized. You sew? You make clothes?? He stares at your hands working with pure awe.

“It’s like magic… how do you know how to do that?” He asks tons of questions, listens to your explanations intently, and proudly wears anything you make him—even if it’s outside his comfort zone. And when you fix or alter his clothes? “You fixed it for me? That’s… really kind. Thank you.” Loves watching you get lost in your hobby. Sometimes just sits beside you, quiet and content, while you stitch away.

Aoi Todo

THIS IS HIS DREAM.

“MY WIFE MAKES BATTLE ROBES?!” He insists on wearing full outfits you make to events, stores, dates, the gym—anywhere. He’s the loudest, proudest hype man: “She HAND-STITCHED this lining. Feel that embroidery. FEEEEL IT.” Every time you make something, he spins around in it dramatically like he’s on Project Runway. Begins suggesting you start your own fashion line. Wants to model for you. “You’re not just a designer. You’re a visionary. My muscular queen of the needle and thread.”

[prettygirl-gabi]

The Ache That Stayed

Pairing: Georgia Amoore x Reader

Fandom: WNBA-Washington Mystics

Summary: Old wounds reopen when love outlasts heartbreak, silence, and time.

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @let-zizi-yap , @latenighttalkinqwp , @fairyblossomsav , @liloandstitchstan , @kaliblazin , @marleymarleymarleymarley , @latenighttalkinqwp , @atimelessheaven , @gabischeeseballs

I was folding laundry when the hospital called.

The number flashed across my screen—unknown, Washington D.C. I almost let it go to voicemail, assuming it was spam, but something in my gut twisted, sharp and uncomfortable.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Y/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she.”

“You’re listed as the emergency contact for Georgia Amoore. She was injured during training camp for the Washington Mystics and has been admitted to MedStar Washington Hospital. She requested that we notify you.”

For a second, the world tilted. My laundry slipped from my hands, forgotten on the floor.

“I—I’m still on her list?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

My mouth went dry.

“I’ll be there.”

The hospital smelled like bleach and fear.

I didn’t know what I expected walking into Room 408, but it sure as hell wasn’t for my entire chest to crack open like an old wound that never fully closed. There she was. Georgia. My Georgia.

Except she wasn’t mine anymore.

She looked smaller than I remembered, despite the way time and distance had stretched us apart.

Her hair was tied back messily, leg braced and elevated, eyes half-lidded from meds.

But when she saw me, she blinked like I was the hallucination.

“You came,” she whispered.

I crossed my arms tightly over my chest. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I wasn’t sure if you would.”

I took one more step into the room and closed the door behind me.

“Why am I still your emergency contact, Georgia?”

She looked away, her fingers twitching slightly against the sheets.

“I never took you off.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I hoped you’d still come.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I should’ve walked out. Should’ve called her coach, her agent, anyone more appropriate.

But instead, I pulled the visitor chair closer to her bed and sat.

Because no matter how far she pushed me away… I still loved her.

And that’s the cruel thing about love—when it’s real, it doesn’t ask for your permission to stay.

I’d extended my stay in D.C. with no return flight in sight.

I was helping Georgia settle into her apartment post-surgery. Washing her hair in the sink. Making toast she barely ate. Sitting on the floor while she slept on the couch with her leg propped up.

I told Jenna—the girl I’d just started dating two weeks ago—that I needed to help a friend.

She didn’t ask too many questions.

I wished she had.

The fight started the fifth night.

Over nothing, really.

Or maybe over everything.

“You don’t have to keep playing nurse,” Georgia said as I handed her her pain meds. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Right,” I snapped. “Because you’re great at handling things on your own. That’s worked so well for you.”

She flinched.

“You can go back to your new girl,” she said flatly.

My hand froze.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t you dare use her like a shield.”

“You’re the one who’s with her,” Georgia fired back, “but you’re here with me.”

I felt something inside me snap. The rage I’d buried for twelve long months clawed its way out of my chest.

“You broke up with me, Georgia! No warning. No explanation. Just ‘I need space’ and a goodbye I didn’t see coming. And now you’re throwing shade because I’m trying to move on?”

Her jaw clenched.

“I wasn’t okay,” she muttered.

“And you think I was?” I stepped closer, my fists curling. “You think I didn’t cry for weeks? That I didn’t check your highlights at Kentucky like a masochist? You think it didn’t kill me every time I saw your face and knew I wasn’t part of your world anymore?”

Georgia’s eyes welled up, but she didn’t speak.

“Say something!” I shouted.

“I didn’t know how to love you and figure myself out at the same time!” she screamed back. “I was drowning. Everyone expected me to perform, to lead, to be the next face of college basketball, and I didn’t know who the hell I was anymore—”

“So you made me collateral damage.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“YOU DID IT ANYWAY!”

My fists hit her chest—not hard, not enough to cause pain, but enough to let the pain out of me. Once. Twice. Three times. Each one laced with tears, not anger.

She let me.

She just sat there, crying silently, arms falling open like she’d been waiting to catch me this whole time.

And I broke.

I collapsed into her chest, sobbing so hard my ribs ached.

“I hate you,” I whispered against her. “I hate that I still love you.”

She didn’t speak. Just cradled my head to her heart, her hand shaking as she ran her fingers through my hair.

“I hate me too,” she whispered back. “But I never stopped loving you either.”

We sat like that. Wrecked. Raw.

Two people too hurt to touch the truth until it tore them apart.

Two Days Later

The silence was softer now.

We didn’t speak much, but we didn’t need to. Not yet.

I cooked. She complained that it was too bland. I told her she could order DoorDash with her good leg.

She laughed. I smiled.

And then I got the text.

Jenna: “I miss you. When are you coming back?”

I stared at the screen for a long time.

Georgia was asleep on the couch, curled around a heating pad.

She looked peaceful. Or at least, at peace with me being near.

I walked outside and called Jenna.

“Hey,” she answered, voice bright and warm.

“Hey,” I said quietly. “Can we talk?”

“I shouldn’t have started something new,” I told her. “Not when I was still bleeding from something old.”

Jenna was quiet on the other end.

“I told myself I’d moved on. But I didn’t. I just… covered the wound and pretended it didn’t hurt anymore.”

“And now?” she asked.

“I’m sitting in my ex’s apartment, helping her heal, and realizing I’m still in love with her.”

I expected her to yell. Or hang up. Or cry.

But all Jenna said was, “Thank you for being honest.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad, Y/N. Disappointed, maybe. But not mad. Go be where your heart already is.”

I blinked back tears. “You’re kind.”

“I’m also blocking you after this, just FYI.”

I laughed through the lump in my throat. “Fair.”

“Take care of yourself. And her.”

I hung up.

The weight lifted. Slowly, but noticeably.

I walked back inside.

Georgia was sitting up now, watching me with wide eyes.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I told her.”

Georgia’s throat bobbed. “Told her what?”

“That I’m still in love with you.”

She looked like she wanted to cry again. “What’d she say?”

“That she’s blocking me.” I sat down beside her. “I told her I needed to be honest with myself.”

Georgia reached for my hand.

“And what’s the truth?”

I looked at her—really looked.

“The truth is I loved you then. I love you now. And if you’re not going to run again… I’ll stay.”

She gripped my hand tighter, eyes shining.

“I won’t run.”

I leaned my forehead to hers, heart pounding.

“Don’t break me again.”

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it.”

And somehow, that felt like enough.

Or at least the beginning of it.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[tangledupinyellow]

Pancakes For Two | Joel Miller X Wedding Planner F!Reader

authors note: A shorter chapter but a very important one I swear!! Much more angst to come

part six of love is in the air! love is in the air masterlist here

summary: When you come to the conclusion that Joel had made up his mind, he comes to you with something shocking.

warnings/tags: 18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak au, big infidelity, age gap (24 and 46), alcohol, angst, just a lot of angst

word count: 3.9k

previous ✿ next

“That would be absolutely beautiful, it’ll be perfect.” The red haired woman beamed with joy as she looked down at your binder, her green eyes sparkling with excitement, “Don’t you think it’ll be perfect, dear?” With the utmost love and desire, she looked over at her husband, who nodded in agreement, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to bring her in closer to him.

Steven and Rosalie were your newest clients, your first ones since Joel and Jenna. You had to take a little personal break for yourself after that one, needing time to regroup mentally and get your own shit together before you put your complete focus into a new couple.

You were showing them the nearest wedding venues, helping them decide on the best option for them. They were a rather young couple, still madly in love and obsessed with one another. It was a marriage that you hoped would last a lifetime, the kind of marriage you wanted someday. 

Although you’ve avoided getting back into work for some time now, you had to admit that it was a good distraction for you.

It has been over three weeks since you’ve last heard from Joel. You refused to be the first to contact him after giving him the ultimatum. If he were to choose you, he would be the one to make the phone call.

But ever since that night at the bar, he’s been MIA. Not a phone call, not a text, absolutely nothing.

It crushed you after the first few days. After about four days of your phone being completely silent, you had come to the conclusion that Joel had chosen Jenna over you.

You spent the rest of the week crying yourself to sleep, checking your phone obsessively to see if he left a phone call or even a text. But each time you checked, all of your messages would be empty, the only missed calls you ever received being from your mom.

You spent a long time sulking, imagining him doing to Jenna what he used to do to you. You were hopeful that there was a slight chance that he would pick you in the end. You hated that you allowed yourself to catch feelings for him like you did. But, you guessed that's just the way life goes sometimes.

You would picture what a life with Joel could have looked like if things worked out differently. If he wasn’t married, or he didn’t have to choose between you and his literal wife. It was a messy situation, you were no stranger to that. You knew you were getting involved in something complicated, but you dived head first anyway.

You knew one way or another, you would get hurt in the end, but you were too busy living in the moment to care. You missed Joel, but you couldn’t spend the rest of your life missing him. You needed to get back into your career and find a way to move forward, no matter how difficult that may be.

Joel was permanently out of your life. That was something you were going to have to adjust to. And while you worked on that, you were able to focus on your new clients.

Because, despite how much you missed Joel when the nighttime came around, he was gone.

┉┉┉

The week had gone by just as slowly as you were expecting. A day hasn’t gone by where Joel didn’t cross your mind, no matter how much you tried. Every time you closed your eyes to go to sleep, all you saw was his deep brown eyes staring into your own, wanting to make love to you all night long and rock you to sleep.

It was torture.

You decided to treat yourself to a little breakfast at one of your favorite local diners. You sipped on your coffee and took a bite of food as you flipped through your work binder. Blueberry pancakes, your favorite.

It was some well needed alone time after the last few stressful weeks.

You flipped through the binder, picking out some color schemes that you thought Steven and Rosalie might like.

It was nice working with a new couple. It was refreshing. They were very different from Joel and Jenna, which was a huge relief to you when you first started working with them.

You were in the middle of taking another bite of your breakfast before you heard a familiar voice calling your name right behind you.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you quickly looked over to see Joel standing behind you with his hand on the booth.

You almost choked on your pancakes when you saw him. It’s been nearly a month since you’ve seen him last, and you were sure that would have been the last time you ever saw him.

A wave of emotions flew through you when you laid eyes on him. You were happy, excited, joyful… but you were also hurt and confused. They were very contradictory, your emotions at war with one another.

“Joel?” The name came out of your mouth more nervously than you intended, your voice cracking just slightly.

“Can I sit?” He asked quietly, seeming rather nervous himself.

“Sure, seats open.” You nodded, knowing that whichever way this ended up going, you would be regretting it in the end.

Joel smiled gratefully before taking a seat in the booth across from you. You were still having trouble processing the fact that Joel was sitting here with you after you had already convinced yourself it was incredibly unlikely you’d ever see him again in your lifetime.

The waitress who previously served you came back up to the booth with a smile and a notepad, “Having a little breakfast date, huh?” She giggled quietly and smiled softly. Joel cleared his throat and stayed silent, only returning the smile, “Can I get you anything to drink? Something to eat?”

Joel glanced down at the menu that sat on the table and shrugged before closing it, looking down at your plate.

“Y’know, I’ll have the same thing she’s havin’.” He smiled politely and handed the menu back to the blonde waitress.

“Coffee and blueberry pancakes? Right on it.” She smiled and threw a friendly wink his way before walking off into the kitchen.

You ran a hand through your hair and sighed, your gaze staying on Joel. If he was ordering food, he was planning on staying here with you for more than just five minutes. You couldn’t help but worry.

You cleared your throat and gave Joel a small smile, “It’s been a while, how've you been?” You started the dreadful small talk.

In all honesty, you were completely unsure how you should even go about this conversation with Joel. This was a scenario that you never thought to plan ahead for.

“Been alright,” he shrugged, fiddling with his thumbs on the table that separated the two of you.

You sipped your coffee and raised your eyebrows slightly as you stared at him, pushing your work binder off to the side. While your affair may have been short lived, you still knew Joel well enough to know that he wasn’t telling you the truth.

“How about you? Been keeping busy with work?” He put on a smile, changing the subject to focus on you instead. He glanced over at your work binder before turning his attention back on you.

Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you nodded, “Yeah, just started back up again, actually, took a little break for myself.” You answered honestly.

You didn’t say any specific details, but by the concerned furrow of his brow and the creases in the corner of his squinted eyes, you could tell that he knew what you were referring to.

You licked your lips and sighed, cutting up a piece of pancake for yourself, “But it’s all good. I’m glad you’re happy with Jenna.”

“About that...” Joel began but was interrupted when the waitress came back with a hot pot of coffee and fresh blueberry pancakes in her hands.

Joel quickly looked over at her and gave her a warm smile, “Oh, thank you. Looks great.” He quickly thanked the waitress, watching her walk off.

You cleared your throat and took another bite of your pancakes, keeping your eyes on him, “I haven’t heard from you in a while.” You mumbled bluntly.

Joel sipped his black coffee and sighed before running a hand through his hair. He had, in fact, been avoiding calling or texting you at all. He was terrified of hurting anyone’s feelings, despite possibly having to hurt his own.

It was a difficult decision on his part, but it was a decision that he made.

Now, he didn’t expect to see you at the diner, but he was glad he ran into you. There was a lot that he needed to talk to you about. A part of him hoped that he would be able to avoid this conversation with you for as long as he could, but he knew that wouldn’t be fair to you. He was honest with himself, and now he needed to be honest with you.

“M’sorry. Sorry for not callin’ or textin’,” He started off with the apologies. You cut him off almost instantly.

“It’s fine. I’ve gotten over it.” You responded nonchalantly, taking a bite of your blueberry pancakes.

Those words crushed Joel. It was something you needed to get over, implying that it was something you were upset by. He had hurt you. It hurt him to know that he did.

Joel stared down at the pancakes on his plate and took a deep breath. He pushed them around with his fork before shaking his head, bringing his eyes back up to meet yours.

“I wanted to talk to you about it, I really did,” Joel whispered sincerely and frowned, the corners of his lips creasing downwards.

You licked your lips and sighed, grabbing onto his hands gently on top of the table, “I’ve already told you, Joel, it’s fine. I just want you to be happy.”

“But that’s the thing-”

“First few bites tasting okay?” The waitress always seemed to have perfect timing when it came to interrupting the two of you.

You cleared your throat and nodded, squeezing Joel’s hands before looking over at the young woman with a soft smile, “It’s wonderful, thank you.”

Joel nodded in agreement, but kept his eyes down on your intertwined hands.

With the same painted smile, the waitress walked off to her other tables, leaving you and Joel alone.

“What is it, Joel?” You asked, squeezing his hands while keeping your eyes on him intently.

The longer it took for him to say whatever it was that was on his mind, the more you found yourself worrying.

You refused to get your hopes up. You already knew that he wasn’t going to tell you something you wanted to hear.

Joel sipped on his coffee before letting out a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes while shaking his head, “It’s nothin’.” He mumbled, shoving a few bites of pancakes into his mouth while trying to avoid eye contact with you.

You already knew that he was lying to you. It didn’t take a genius to tell.

“Joel. Tell me.” You commanded, your voice still soft and gentle.

Joel took a deep breath and hesitantly looked back up at you, squeezing your hands gently, “Can we just finish breakfast? Please?” His eyes were begging you.

You stared into the dark brown eyes that you had once fallen in love with before nodding slowly.

With a grateful smile, Joel caressed your hand with his thumb, “I want to talk to you. But somewhere more private, no interruptions, just you an’ I.”

You knew where Joel was coming from. This wasn’t going to be just some casual conversation that the two of you could have over breakfast. You nodded in understanding.

“You’re not busy tonight, are you?” He asked.

“I’m completely free. Whenever you need me, I’ll be there.”

You could practically see the relief in his eyes when you said that.

“Come to my place tonight. Jenna’s out all night workin’. There’s a lot I wanna talk to you about.” His voice was quiet and nervous. He sounded the way you felt.

“I’ll be there.”

┉┉┉

You spent the rest of the day worrying and overthinking every single scenario that could be going down with Joel. Even when you tried, you couldn’t relax. Your heart was always racing, and your palms were always sweating.

Your brain kept coming up with worst case scenarios, thinking about how terrible the rest of your night could possibly go.

Your anxiety didn’t seem to ease up, but instead got much worse when you got into your car to start driving over to Joel’s house.

Going to Joel’s was never a good idea. It never ended well for you. But you wouldn’t let yourself back out now.

While you assumed that Joel had made up his mind and chosen to stay with Jenna, maybe he was asking you to come over so he could tell you the opposite. But still, you reminded yourself that you shouldn’t get your hopes up. 

You kept your walls up, not allowing them to crash down anytime soon. Hesitantly, you pulled up into Joel’s driveway and parked your car next to his truck.

His porch light was on, signaling his front door in the dark of the night. Grabbing onto your purse tightly with sweaty and shaky hands, you turned off your car and headed outside.

There was a slight chilly breeze, making you shiver under your thin coat. You just stepped onto Joel's front porch, and you were already eagerly awaiting until you could go back home and put an end to this once and for all.

You already knew he had picked Jenna over you. There was no way that he didn’t after avoiding you for all this time. Even though there were times you wanted to be hopeful and think that he may have chosen you, you knew that was never going to be the case. So whatever he wanted to talk to you about now, you were nearly positive that it was going to end in tears.

Folding your hand into a fist, you lifted up your arm and knocked quietly three times on his front door.

You bit your lip nervously and took a deep breath, desperately trying to calm your nerves before Joel came to the door.

It was only a minute or so later when Joel opened up the door. He looked just as much of a wreck as you did. His hair was disheveled, dark bags hung beneath his eyes, and he was dressed down in a plain white T-shirt and sweatpants. He looked exhausted. Seeing him like this only made your anxiety worse.

“Hi.” He muttered quietly, opening the door a bit more to allow you inside.

You tried to give him a small smile, your lips twitching as you did so before stepping past him to come inside. He helped you take your coat off, the feeling of his fingertips brushing your arm sending tingles down your spine.

It was clear to see that both of you were much more than just anxious. You were scared, worried, nervous, and everything in between.

“Can I pour you a glass of wine? I have an open bottle in the living room.” He tried to keep the smile on his lips, but was failing tremendously. He was too nervous.

“That sounds perfect, thanks.” You nodded.

A glass of wine was definitely something you were going to need in order to get through the rest of this night with Joel.

With a nod, Joel walked back into the living room, with you following suit, sitting down on the couch. Grunting quietly, he leaned forward towards the coffee table and grabbed the empty wine glass that was right next to the one that was half full, presumably Joel's.

You leaned back against the couch, watching Joel pour the red liquid into the glass before handing it over to you. Mumbling your thanks, you took a sip and sighed softly. You were already starting to feel more relaxed. But you weren’t putting your walls down quite yet.

“So, what’s up?” You cut straight to the chase.

You weren’t going to go through an hour of small talk when you knew there was something else that the two of you desperately needed to talk about. It was worrying you all damn day, and you weren’t going to be able to fully relax until you knew what was going on with Joel. You needed closure to feel any sort of comfort.

Joel cleared his throat after taking a sip of his wine, holding onto the stem of his wine glass tightly. His foot tapped on the floor anxiously before taking yet another sip, trying to get the courage to begin having this dreaded conversation with you.

You knew Joel well enough to tell that this wasn’t good, not at all. You were just waiting for him to rip the band-aid off and tell you already. You weren’t in any mood to beat around the bush.

Sipping on your wine, you looked at him intensely above your glass, impatiently waiting for him to start speaking.

Joel took another sip before setting it back down on the coffee table, rubbing his knees as he prepared himself for the conversation ahead.

“Right, I ain’t gonna stall this any longer. It’s gotta come out one way or another, right?” He shrugged, attempting and failing again with a smile.

You only nodded, holding your glass of wine while staring at him, ready for him to get a move on with it already.

Joel took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, “After that night, I had a lotta thinkin’ to do,” He began, his voice cracking just ever so slightly due to his growing nerves, “I made my mind up that night. I knew what I wanted, right?”

You nodded as you listened to him, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t want to hear about how much Jenna was the right pick for him and how he needed to choose her at the end of the day. You dreaded to hear him talk about how much he wanted Jenna. But at the same time, you were here to hear the whole story.

Joel licked his lips before continuing, “I wanted you. I still want you.” He said simply.

You furrowed your eyebrows, completely taken aback by what you had just heard. Did you even hear him correctly? He wanted you, he picked you to be with. But if that were the case, why haven’t you heard from him in the past month? If he picked you, you would have thought he would contact you as soon as possible. None of this was making sense. The pieces weren’t fitting together.

“Then why didn’t you call? Text? Anything?” A rush of relief flooded over you, hearing from him that he wanted you, he still wanted you. That was exactly what you wanted to hear. But it wasn’t adding up.

Joel reached over to grab his wine glass, filling it up a little more before taking a rather large sip. You frown more as you watched, your anxiety only growing.

He avoided your question, much to your dismay, continuing on with his explanation instead, “I sat Jenna down the next night. I spent the whole day tryin’ to break the news to her gently. I was goin’ to tell her I wanted a divorce, I was going to tell her everything.”

“You were?” You interrupted him.

Joel matched the frown on your lips as he nodded, “Yes, I was.”

“But you didn’t.” Your voice was full of hurt and confusion.

“No, I didn’t.” He confirmed.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to snap at him and let your emotions get the best of you. Why would he not tell Jenna how he felt when that was what he decided to do? The more he explained the story to you, the more confused you felt. None of it was making any sense.

Joel felt the urge to reach out and pull you into his arms, but he held himself back. He knew that you would most likely want nothing to do with him after he told you everything. Instead, he swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

“I sat her down to tell her. I was going to tell her every damn thing. I made up my mind to be with you, and that’s what I wanted. I’ve never felt this kind of connection with Jenna that I do with you. You were the one I was excited to see every day when I woke up, you were the one I wanted to be with, and I still do. I want you to know that.” You didn’t like this buildup, it was going to be followed by a but. It was always followed by a but.

“Then why didn’t you?” Tears threatened to prick your eyes as you stared at him, gripping your wine tightly. You needed to know the truth.

Joel took a deep breath and set down his glass. He needed to rip the band-aid off. He knew it would hurt you. And he was so hesitant to get it over with because he knew that these words were going to cause you to walk out of his life forever. He wouldn’t blame you, either.

“I sat her down. Before I could tell her anything, she wanted to tell me somethin’ first,” Joel's hands were shaking, matching the jittering heart in his chest. “She told me she was pregnant. She was over the moon excited. After that, I kept my mouth shut. I couldn’t tell her anythin’. I’m sorry.” His voice was small and weak while he spoke hastily.

You stared at him in disbelief, your heart falling into the pit of your stomach the moment he told you that Jenna was pregnant. You were falling in love with this man, and he was out here having a child with another woman.

“I don’t know what to do,” His voice cracked, desperation lacing his voice, “I care about Jenna and I want to be there for her, but I can’t love her the way I love you.” He shook his head.

You stayed silent while staring down at your lap. You had no words. You were sick to your stomach. You felt like you could throw up on the spot.

Joel stared at you before whispering your name, wanting you to say something, anything.

You could only shake your head as you stood up, setting your wine glass down. Joel was someone that you could see having a future with, and the idea of him spending that with someone else made you sick. You couldn’t take it anymore, you couldn’t look at him.

“Have a good night, Joel.” You mumbled brokenly and grabbed your coat, slipping on your shoes.

“Wait, please.” He said desperately, walking over to you. He wanted to grab onto your arm and pull you into him, wanting to apologize profusely and tell you that he was going to figure this out so the two of you could be happy together. He wanted to hear you say that everything would be okay.

But instead, he remained standing in front of you, not saying another word. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to make promises that he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep.

Joel watched with tears burning his eyes as you walked out of his house. He stood there helplessly, watching you drive away.