#I’ve been trying to write this for. not joking. two weeks.

[girly-girlk]

Hi! I don’t know if you’ve already written something like this, but if not could you write a fic about firefighter Rafe and reader meeting? Like maybe she’s a waitress at the firehouse’s favorite diner?

diner

firefighter!rafe cameron x reader

summary: rafe is a regular at the diner you work at

a/n: sorry this one took so long, but i absolutely love it! i hope you enjoy!!💕

the bell above the door jingles at exactly 9:14 a.m.

like clockwork.

you’re already behind the counter, tying your apron tight and jotting down today’s pie special on the chalkboard when they come in — the southport fire crew. four of them, loud and laughing, tracking in sand and smoke and the faint scent of cedarwood. they pile into their usual booth like it’s their booth, and honestly, maybe it is.

you’ve been working at shoreline diner for two weeks now. long enough to learn their orders, but not long enough to stop watching one of them a little too closely.

rafe cameron.

he’s the last to come in, always is. tall, sun-tanned, with a jawline you could cut yourself on and arms that strain the sleeves of his navy uniform t-shirt. there’s a lazy swagger to the way he walks, like he knows people watch him.

he definitely knows you do.

“morning, darlin’,” topper grins, flipping his menu even though he always orders the same thing.

“french toast and black coffee, i know,” you say, already scribbling it down. “kelce, eggs over easy, bacon burnt to hell—”

“you get me,” kelce winks.

and then your pen stalls.

rafe lides into the booth last, glancing up at you with that maddeningly calm expression he always wears — like he’s not even trying to be charming, he just is. you swear there’s the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it’s gone too quick to be sure.

“you takin’ care of us today?” he asks, voice low and scratchy like he just woke up.

“i guess that depends,” you shoot back, trying not to sound breathless. “you planning to tip better than last time?”

topper howls. rafe raises both eyebrows, mock-offended.

“she got you there, man,” jj grins around a mouthful of hash browns from someone else’s plate.

rafe doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“i’ll make it up to you,” he says. not a joke. not a line. just a promise that settles deep in your chest, low and warm.

you don’t reply. you can’t — not without your voice shaking — so you nod and head toward the kitchen, scribbling “pancakes, extra butter, side of sausage” on your pad before he even says it.

⸻

they’re halfway through their meal when the first call comes in. the scanner at the counter crackles to life, dispatch barking out a structure fire off main.

rafe is already standing, sliding cash under his plate, eyes on you.

“you work weekends?” he asks, helmet tucked under one arm, sweat already glinting at his temple.

“every saturday.”

his tongue clicks against his teeth like he’s thinking, and then he says it — casual, quiet, but somehow not at all forgettable:

“see you then.”

you nod again, pulse skittering.

and when they’re gone, when the door swings shut behind all that smoke and static and adrenaline, you find yourself looking at the tip he left.

twenty bucks. on a ten-dollar order.

and a note scribbled on the napkin:

“in case i don’t get to tell you next time: you’ve got the prettiest smile i’ve ever seen.” — r”

you stare at it for a long moment, then fold it carefully and tuck it into your apron pocket.

⸻

you don’t know it yet, but that saturday? he’ll come in alone.

and you’ll sit at his booth during your break.

and he’ll ask if you want to grab coffee somewhere that isn’t where you work.

but for now, you just stand there — heart racing, hand pressed to a napkin — knowing full well this isn’t the end of anything.

it’s the start.

[dekusleftsock]

HMMNGGGSHSHHSHD IM SO LATE TO THIS BUT THERES SO MANY THINGS IVE WANTED TO SAY FOR SO LONG AND IVE JUST BEEN TOO DEPRESSED OR BUSY TO DO IT

I did just re-read the chapter, hazbin/helluva hyperfixation is gone y’all I’m back and ready for more.

Okay so, a couple of things I noticed. Let’s start there.

Throughout this chapter, it really is heartbreaking to see how Izuku regards one for all as Allmight’s power, and therefore a disrespect to him to give that away. Which is quite frankly insane given the nature of what the power is, but regardless it still shows me just how deeply he still cares for and admires allmight.

It also makes the transfer Izuku makes to Katsuki in the heroes rising movie all the more intimate; izuku wouldn’t just give the power to anyone, if not for himself (which is also clearly due to that fact since he still sees ofa as the thing that makes him a hero, not his characteristics), then simply out of respect for allmight and his legacy.

It’s just the anger you can see, feel in those words as he demands to know why. I’ve personally been in the boat of “Izuku dislikes Kudou immensely bc he hasn’t proven to be heroic and amazing like Katsuki has, and also he insults him a lot why would he like him”, since Izuku does genuinely have self respect (a common mischaracterization imo), he’s just also more forgiving and faithful to those he admires or loves (or both).

SPEAKING OF SELF RESPECT AND MISCHARACTERIZATION!

I want to highlight the words “But even so, this boy refuses to throw in the towel”, bc it’s such an important part of Izuku and his character.

He isn’t overly self sacrificial, he isn’t a masochist, he isn’t even a martyr—especially not a martyr.

Izuku is stubborn. That is not the same thing as wanting to constantly die for others; izuku is like Katsuki, he wants to fight for others. Giving up just simply isn’t in his morality.

And if “giving up” also includes letting someone die or failing to save someone out of his own negligence, that’s not because he wants to die.

I can’t explain how much the interpretation that Izuku wanting to die, even for others, is so fucking out of character. Izuku is stubborn, he’s stubborn in the way that he won’t just fall over and let the ground take him. Given the circumstances, Izuku would fight for his life just as he would fight for another.

THIS HAS BEEN THE CASE SINCE, I DONT KNOW, CHAPTER FUCKING ONE?

“Idiot! If I’d really jumped, you’d be charged with bullying me into suicide!! Think before you speak!!”

“Idiot…”

Like he’s so unaffected by the awful comment outside of being angry at the DISRESPECT of said comment. This is why all those damn suicidal Izuku fics have always felt so ooc. Izuku isnt a moody, brooding ball of depression, he’s a stubborn, courageous, and angry ball of depression. There is a difference.

Even before this, he literally attempts to say something or fight back to Katsuki, honestly it looks like he’s about to punch him here.

The only reason he DOESNT is bc HE DOESNT WANT TO GET HIS ASS BEAT

Btw for anyone who has or ever will be in Izuku’s position, punch him. I love Katsuki But hit him in the fucking gut. If you get your ass beat at least you can say you can took it like a champ.

Speaking from someone who regrets not punching three girls who were trying to gang up on me in middle school🫶🫶🫶

Anyway, I’d argue that Izuku not taking Katsuki in a fight was made out of self preservation, something he very much has.

And last but not least, we get to this lovely fucking page.

First of all…

Hm, ain’t that strange?

I’m not saying it’s fully a parallel, I’m just saying it’s something to consider.

Especially with the context that I don’t think Izuku feels shameful here.

He’s been a hero who didn’t look like one once before, I’m sure a snide comment through Shigaraki is nothing in comparison to the literal hundreds of civilians afraid of him.

Or, even more interestingly, what if he’s shameful of it, and okay with that? Now THATS some control over your emotions. This is demonstrating the very thing Banjo told him in the first place; using his emotions to fuel him. Let himself live with them, breath with them. They exist, and they hurt, and that’s fucking okay.

But it begs the question…. Why bring attention to it?

Clearly horikoshi WANTS you to see that Izuku is the one who looks like the monster now. He even looks devil like, blackwhip coming out of his back the way it is just feels like wings.

But maybe… maybe this is how he stops sweeping problems under the rug. Maybe this is him, Izuku, at his most animalistic form. Him. At his core. This is the Izuku he doesn’t want people to know.

The faceless, long clawed, oozing black monster.

He’s a kid who can take a fucking beating. He’s not Deku the useless doll, nor is he Deku the hero. He’s simply Izuku.

And you know what’s even more likely?

The black pit of anger that Shigaraki has formed, fueling his uncontrolled emotions and anger and despair, with the light tear showing something underneath…

What if, this was Izuku’s black ball of anger and shame, except this one is escaping his body, pouring out and showing all of that for what it truly is. Pent up rage, uncontrolled emotion, anxiety and shame, all mixed into one hell hole of a person—but a ball that can be molded, controlled, torn apart from the inside out.

See, the same way Kudou tears at Shigaraki’s mental breaking to see what’s underneath, so have the ofa users for Izuku. Slowly, but surely, the people in Izuku’s life have, while created that ball in the first place, also worked to destroy it. The final piece of the puzzle is for Izuku to choose to let it happen, and he is.

Learning to sit in one’s fear, doubt, hatred, anger, sadness, grief, happiness—without that emotion having to be something, simply something that flows through you, that you can choose to act on or not; this is where Izuku’s arc is coming to its tipping point. We are nearing the climax, I can feel it.

[ilovolderman]

Friday Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You end up sitting next to Bucky in a casual team dinner.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, flirting, light language, water war (because who can resist a splash battle?)

A/N: this is part 4 of "You Said What?", just some fluff in a universe where you and Bucky secretly date. It can be read on its own and doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3. im loving writing about these two so thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

It’s one of those rare nights at the compound, no missions, no briefings, no surprise alien invasions. Just a Friday. Just dinner. And, somehow, Steve decided it’d be nice if the whole team ate together like one big weird family.

The long table is already half full when you show up a few minutes late, sliding into the only empty seat left, next to Bucky, obviously by coincidence. Totally random. Totally not planned. Totally a miracle.

“Hey,” you murmur, your knee bumping his under the table. You don’t move it.

“Hey,” he says back, low and warm, like it’s just for you. His knee nudges yours in return, the tiniest pressure that somehow makes your chest feel full.

Dinner is loud. Sam’s in the middle of a dramatic story involving a rooftop and a rogue pizza slice, gesturing so wildly he nearly knocks over his drink twice. Wanda is laughing so hard she’s wheezing. Clint and Natasha are arguing about spice levels in the curry. Tony ordered five different desserts “just in case,” and even Vision looks mildly amused.

It’s chaotic. It’s weirdly cozy. And it’s perfect.

Meanwhile, Bucky quietly slides the breadbasket your way before you even ask. Passes you a napkin when you drop yours. Leans over and murmurs a dumb joke under his breath just to make you laugh. And when you both reach for the same dish, your fingers brush—and linger. Neither of you moves.

You glance at him. He’s already looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s seen all night.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whisper, biting your lip.

“Like what?” he asks, faking innocence.

“Like you’re thinking about kissing me at a table full of Avengers.”

He leans in, voice low. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your breath catches. You blink, trying not to let it show. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t kick you under this table.”

“I’d still kiss you.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks. “Yeah. But I’m your problem.”

You’re in the middle of pretending to care about Steve and Nat’s back-and-forth on training strategies when your phone buzzes in your lap.

[bucky]: come to the kitchen. 5 mins. say you forgot the hot sauce.

You bite your lip to keep from grinning. He sees it and smiles with just one side of his mouth.

A few minutes later, you slide your chair back, muttering something about needing Sriracha. No one blinks. They're all too busy arguing over which dessert to try first.

You slip into the kitchen.

And there he is. Leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyes already on you. Like he wasn’t just sitting beside you five minutes ago.

“I’m starting to think I’m more addicted to seeing you than caffeine,” he says, that soft smile tugging at his lips.

You walk right into his arms. He smells like clean laundry and something you can’t place—something that’s just him.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“Tell that to Sam,” he mutters. “He said I’ve been grumpy all week. I was just missing this.”

His fingers brush your cheek, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw. You lean up and kiss him—quick, soft, sweet. The kind of kiss that says I wish we had more time.

And then you steal another.

And another.

He groans, resting his forehead against yours. “Okay. One more, and then I’m walking back in there like nothing happened.”

You smirk. “You have lipstick on your mouth.”

“Dammit.”

When you both return, the table’s still buzzing, still full of warmth and noise and people who feel like home. Bucky catches your eye as you pass him the dessert like it’s nothing.

But you know. And he knows. And your heart is doing somersaults when Bucky leans in again.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your lip.”

You freeze. Glance at him, wary. “Do I?”

He nods solemnly and you wipe your mouth with a napkin. “Better?”

He tilts his head, eyes sparkling. “Not really. Might need to check later.”

You kick him under the table.

Dinner winds down slowly, plates are half-empty, dessert is more whipped cream than anything else, and everyone’s full in that way that makes you too lazy to move.

Tony’s talking about building a pizza oven on the roof. Clint is inexplicably napping in his chair. Wanda’s stealing bites off Sam’s plate while pretending not to. And you?

Your face hurts from smiling, your stomach’s full, but you still offer to clean up.

“I’ll do the dishes,” you say, already sliding your chair back.

A second later, Bucky glances your way. “I’ll help.”

“Seriously?” Sam teases. “Since when do you volunteer?”

“Since now,” Bucky says coolly, already following you into the kitchen.

You roll your eyes, but your heart is racing.

The kitchen is quieter than the dining room, where the others are still laughing, picking at desserts, arguing over who cheated in charades last week. In here, it’s just you, the soft clink of dishes, and Bucky—close behind you.

You roll up your sleeves and start running the water, pretending your hands aren’t slightly shaking. “You don’t actually have to help, you know.”

“I know,” he says, leaning a hip against the counter beside you. “But I want to.”

You glance at him sidelong. “You hate doing dishes.”

He shrugs. “I’ve done worse.”

You snort, handing him a dish towel. The two of you fall into a rhythm quiet, easy. You wash, he dries. Occasionally your arms brush, and each time it’s like a tiny electric pulse zips up your spine. You tell yourself not to overthink it. You fail.

“You were quiet at dinner,” you say, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn bit of lasagna like it personally offended you. “Well. Except for all the flirting.”

Bucky doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is low. “I like watching everyone like that. Laughing. Being...normal.” He pauses. “I like watching you.”

You freeze, dish half-submerged in sudsy water. Slowly, you turn to look at him. “That supposed to be smooth?”

He grins, shameless. “Did it work?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because he’s looking at you again—that way he does, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and worse, that he means every bit of it. Your heart is somewhere in your throat.

“Bucky,” you say, unsure what comes next.

But then he sets the dish towel down. Steps a little closer. And when you don’t move he reaches up and brushes a wet strand of hair from your cheek.

“You gonna kick me under the sink,” he murmurs, “or are you finally gonna let me kiss you?”

Your breath catches. “There are at least three Avengers in earshot.”

“Then I’ll be quick.”

And he is. But somehow it still feels slow, like the whole world holds its breath for you, just for this. It’s not desperate. It’s not showy. It’s just real. When he pulls back, you blink up at him, dazed. “You call that quick?”

He grins, a little smug. “Told you I’ve done worse.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too. “You missed a spot,” you say, tossing him a still-dripping plate.

He catches it one-handed, totally unfazed. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You bump your hip into his, reaching for a fresh towel. “I tolerate it.”

There’s a beat of silence before he adds, “You know, I kinda like this.”

“The dishes?”

“No. This.” He gestures between you. “You. Me. Elbow-deep in soap. Feels… nice.”

You reach over and flick a bubble at him.

He blinks, deadpan. “Did you just—”

You do it again, giggling. He retaliates by flicking water at your face. You shriek. He laughs.

“What, you can handle HYDRA but not a splash of water?” he teases.

You grab the sprayer.

“Don’t you dare.”

“I dare.”

There’s a short-lived, extremely wet battle that ends with Bucky shielding himself with a dish towel and you both breathless from laughter, leaning against the counter like you’ve run a marathon.

“I think we’re officially banned from post-dinner cleanup now,” you say, still giggling.

“Worth it.”

There’s a pause. He looks at you, hair a little damp, cheeks pink from laughing. And then he leans in again, just because he can. Just because you’re both still smiling.

When he pulls back, he murmurs, “Think we can sneak off to dry off somewhere quieter?”

You grin. “Only if you promise not to start a water war in the hallway.”

“No promises.” But you link your pinky with his anyway.

And that’s when it happens. A very deliberate throat-clear from the doorway. You both freeze like guilty teenagers. Natasha’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, one brow raised like she’s watching a soap opera. “You two done playing splashy-splash, or should I get you floaties?”

Bucky groans softly, his head thudding against the cabinet door behind him. You try to hide behind the dish towel. It doesn’t work.

Natasha steps further into the room, clearly savoring this. “Didn’t know dishwashing came with a swim option.”

“We were just—” you start.

“—cleaning,” Bucky finishes, not even trying to sound convincing.

“Mhm,” Natasha hums, giving you both the kind of look that could peel paint. “You know, for two people trying so hard to look casual, you’re not very good at it.”

Before you can respond, there’s a loud clink from the doorway. Steve steps in, completely unbothered. Holding a slice of pie on a plate like it’s the most important thing in the world.

 “Is everything okay here?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, she shoots you one last look, a knowing glint in her eye. “Alright, alright. Carry on with your... dishes.” She turns, heading toward the door, but not before adding with a teasing smile, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Steve watches her leave, clearly lost in his pie-induced bliss. “What’s her deal?”

You and Bucky exchange an amused look before Bucky mutters, “You really don’t want to know.”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, probably not.”

And just like that, the moment passes. Natasha's suspicion lingers in the air for only a second longer before Steve’s back to his pie, you’re back to drying dishes, and Bucky’s smile is a little too smug for anyone’s good.

next part

[tonycries]

Unhoneymooners!? - G.S.

Synopsis. The universe was surely playing a joke on you. Here you were, trapped on a luxury getaway with your - dangerously handsome, extremely obnoxious - ex. Either you were going to kill each other or end up pinned beneath him, split apart on his cóck. You just didn’t know what would come first.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exes to lovers, unprotected, argument as foreplay, slight enemies to lovers, more like annoyances actually, cunnilingus, oral (male + female), spitting, creampié, one bed trope, rough, Satoru is still EXTREMELY down bad for you, and unfairly hot, forced proximity, cúmplay, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 8.5k

A/N. It’s impossible to not write Satoru without bullying him at least a little bit.

You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 2 weeks, and 16 hours ago - not that you were keeping count, of course.

So why was he outside of your resort room blasting “Kill Bill” by SZA like he’s auditioning for the world’s most dramatic comeback tour? On what should’ve marked your fourth anniversary, no less.

Well, given you were the one to lock him out, but still - the stubborn bastard could at least have some decorum. 

With an exasperated sigh, you throw yourself onto the king-sized bed of your honeymoon suite, trying to will away that annoying, grating voice - not SZA, no, more so Satoru singing along at the top of his lungs to the chorus. 

How did you even get here? And with Satoru of all people - your Satoru. Or at least he was this time a little over a year ago. 

You first met Satoru when you were in university, back when he wore those pretentious circled sunglasses and waltzed around those halls like he owned the place. And after a single literature assignment together, he wasn’t just your (self-proclaimed) best friend; he was the reluctantly favorite thorn in your side. 

Like the rest of him, Satoru’s introduction into your love-life was anything but subtle. It wasn’t like he strolled in, gave a polite nod, and blended into the background. Oh no, he bulldozed his way in and dragged you to dance with him on the tables of some dingy frat party in what you could only assume was some joke from the universe at your expense.

And damn him, you think bitterly, you couldn't resist him that night. Spinning you into a dramatic dip, silver chain brushing your face as his half-lidded eyes bored into yours. You couldn’t not kiss him after the way his hands were just searing into your skin. 

God, you’ve never been able to listen to “Gasolina” the same way ever since.  

Satoru was in love as he was in the rest of life - a force of nature, and it was too easy to find yourself caught up in him.

That night at the frat party was just the beginning. From then on was a rollercoaster of everything from heated debates over the best flavor of ramen to impromptu road trips where you’d end up under a carpet of stars. Wrapped in each other’s arms and sharing whispered secrets for an unpromised future - oftentimes where Satoru would crack a joke or two about running away to Tokyo with him. To which you’d laugh it off with a “Yeah yeah, I’d leave everything I’ve known behind in a heartbeat for your dumbass, Toru.”

You just didn’t think that it would be the downfall to your relationship. All the empty promises. 

Because as those heavenly days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, eventually two years had gone by. The whirlwind romance settled into a comfortable rhythm, but with it came the looming promise of graduation and Satoru moving to work under his family company in Tokyo.

Under pressure, it wasn’t long before the cracks began to show, the arguments more frequent, and the silences more deafening. And as your relationship slowly turned into nothing more than a husk of what it used to be - so did the both of you.

Long story short, graduation was a bittersweet goodbye - and you think both of you knew long before it was actually over. Neither of you attended the afterparty - with Satoru on a flight straight to Tokyo and you at home to stuff your face with chocolate. Hey, at least you could blame your tears on finally leaving university, right? 

You had meticulously erased his name from your phone, your social media, and even your dreams - well, almost, the bastard still came around to bother you occasionally. It was messy, painful, and final.

But “final” really didn’t explain your current predicament. Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned about Satoru is that he’s always there - whether you liked it or not. He was there when you needed a partner for that literature assignment, and he was there to turn your world upside down at that dingy frat party.

Hell, he was even there to help you stubbornly chug mountains of ice cream and win that raffle for this five day-long getaway trip to the Maldives. Though, you think he might’ve chugged the ice cream without the promise of a vacation anyway.

But, when ultimately those shiny tickets came in the mail - Satoru wasn’t there. Oh well, it might’ve been a couple’s trip - but you could have a hot girl summer, right? Maybe you could even snag a hottie by the end. You’d almost forgotten that he’d be getting his copy of the tickets as well.

Yet, unfortunately - as the beginning notes of P!nk’s “So What” bursts through the heavy wooden door - you were inevitably reminded of the fact that he was here. Right now. Goading you into coming outside.

You find yourself groaning inwardly (and outwardly) because of course, why wouldn’t he come back even more obnoxious than before? You haven’t seen him in ages, yet here he is, crashing back into your life with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Or - you furrow your brows at his purposefully off-key singing carrying over the sounds of the waves outside - with the subtlety of a manchild with a JBL and a premium account on Spotify.  

Rubbing your temples in frustration, you contemplate how much longer of this it would take before you’re both kicked out of this resort. And after you ate so many ice creams to win this getaway trip? No chance.

With a resigned sigh, you rise from the bed, smoothing out the bathing suit you’d just put on before the devil incarnate showed up knocking at your door. Something hot and prickly pools in your stomach as you approach it, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the sheer absurdity of the situation. So like Satoru.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you shakily reach for the handle. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal actually.

…

What’s the worst that can happen?

Slam! 

The door swings open, and there in all his smug glory stands a very shirtless Satoru. Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru, the same asshole you’ve blocked on even Gmail. 

Except, you’re momentarily struck by how high you have to raise your eyes to meet his. Are growth spurts even a thing anymore? You didn’t have a chance to take a good look last time before slamming the door shut at the first flash of white hair and a smug grin.

But right now, traitorously, your gaze catches on just how broad his shoulders look and…since when was he so chiseled? Damn you, Tokyo - you were doing him too good.

His hair is slightly longer too, curtaining those slightly more mature features, stopping just above that ever-immature grin. One which moves as he hums, “Well, happy fourth anniversary to me, If I knew this came with the suite then I’d have swam here myself.”

You scoff, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious as he wiggles his brows, striking blue eyes sweeping your figure from head to toe. “I’d prefer if you swam back. What are you doing?” 

“Why, just showing up to our room on our lil’ honeymoon, sweetheart.” Satoru sing-songs, leaning against the doorframe to fully prevent you from slamming the door in his (admittedly) pretty face again. “And before you try to break my nose with that door again, I won that ticket here fair and square, y’know. I ate just as much ice cream as you did for it.”

“You ate most of those before you knew about the getaway raffle.” you sigh over his nonchalant shrug, pinching your nose, “And stop calling it our honeymoon, I dumped you five months ago.”

“Well aren’t you just the gift that keeps on giving. Keeping count?”

“No. Don’t be a pest.”

“Always thought you had a thing for pests. After all, you did date me.” As Satoru grins impossibly wider, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He winks, “And if I’m a pest then you’re an itch that just won’t go away.”

“At least I’m not the itch that shows up uninvited to someone’s honeymoon suite.” you hiss. And with that you start shutting the door ever-so-slowly, delighting in the panic that overtakes Satoru’s features as he reaches out frantically.

“Hey!” he sputters, “I didn’t know you’d be here! And besides this ‘pest’ forgot his slippers all the way in Tokyo and can’t stand on flaming-hot boardwalks for too long so let me in.”

And sure enough, you glance down to see that Satoru isn’t wearing any slippers on the scorching boardwalk. The realization almost brings a smirk to your lips. This idiot. 

“Wow.”

“‘Wow’ at my feet or-”

“I should leave you here to rot just for your pure idiocy.” you deadpan, eyes locked on the way he’s burning his soles off yet still has the audacity to flash you a cocky smile.

“But you won’t.” he hums.

A beat passes. One. Two. And Satoru’s grin almost falters, before you finally relent - opening the door just a crack, cursing his entire bloodline under your breath. “You’re incorrigible” you mutter as he saunters inside victoriously, dragging his hefty luggage behind.

“Why change perfection, sweetheart~” he calls out, heading straight for the bedroom, only to let out a delighted “OooOOo” at the sight of the king-sized bed in the middle. The only bed. “How scandalous, maybe you’ll even fall in lov-” 

“Don’t. I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a seashell.” you warn, holding up both keycards threateningly, “I get the bed, you take the couch.”

“But-”

“And I’ve got the keys, so slippers or not you’ll be back out on that boardwalk.” 

A slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips at the way Satoru looked so dramatically crestfallen, you continue - just to be petty, “And no more ‘Kill Bill’ that’s on my angry ex playlist.”

With a heavy sigh he sulkily makes his way to the bathroom, calling out as he does, “Fine. But I’m showering first.”

As he disappears from sight you throw yourself onto your bed, basking in what little peace and quiet you’ll have because of your unwanted guest. This was going to be a-

“And I’m using all of your body lotions.”

“...”

“I will use one of your body lotions.”

Groaning, you sink into the plush mattress, just wishing it would swallow you whole and spare you from this torment. And this was only Day 1? This was going to be a very long five days. 

---

The first night with Satoru, honestly, wasn’t too bad. 

You don’t know what you expected exactly - maybe for him to pour hair dye in your shampoo or something. But he actually stuck to his word, slept on the couch after only a bit of taunting, and used only one of your body lotions. Your best-smelling, most expensive one, but one nonetheless.

Feeling slightly more optimistic, you spent most of the second day at the beach, meanwhile he stuck to lounging by the pool. Add in a bit of pretending you didn’t know him by the salad bar at dinner and that made for an almost-perfect hot girl summer. 

Well, considering that you were rooming with your insufferable longtime ex - in a honeymoon suite of all places. 

The only catch came that night, fully content at the burning soreness from being pushed around by the waves outside. You got ready to splay out on your bed, humming along to the tunes of your playlist and…Satoru’s lamenting?

“I swear my back feels like it’s been run over by a truck. Five of them, and a zoo.” he complains from behind you, dramatically draping himself over the couch - his impromptu bed. 

“Good.”

“What if that was my last straw?”

“Even better.”

His exaggerated, disappointed whine is both embarrassing and almost-endearing as you roll your eyes, resisting the urge to suffocate him with a pillow. “Maybe call your chiropractor guy.”

Satoru shot you a pointed look, his expression a mixture of faux innocence and irritation, which you knew too well. “I wish but he’s trekking through the Himalayas. C’mon~ Don’t you think that lovely king-sized bed is too big for just one?”

“No, but the boardwalk sure is. Maybe you should try it out.” you monotone, getting ready to end this conversation once and for all. 

But when has Satoru ever let you off easy? He sits up abruptly, a devious smile curling his lips. “Ohh, I get it.” he taunts, batting his long lashes mockingly, “You’re scared to sleep in the same bed with me.”

Huh?

“Out of all the idiotic-” you cut yourself off by whirling around to face his smug grin, “Why would I be scared to sleep in a bed with you. I’ve done that far too many times already.”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “And all those times you could barely last an hour before without keeping your hands off of me. Scared you’ll end up pinned underneath me and stuffed full like old times, sweetheart?”

You narrow your eyes at him despite the heat burning your face. “The only thing I’m scared of is your icicle feet on my side.”

He laughs, a sound that’s equal parts irritating and endearing, and stands up from where he was slumped on the couch. Making his way slowly, but surely towards you, “Oh, c’mon. For old times’ sake, admit it, you miss me.”

"Yeah, missed the peace and quiet I don’t have because of your big mouth,” you scoff. Finding it hard to meet his twinkling gaze as he comes close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. Your cheeks burn at the proximity - hot enough to match the heat radiating off his body. 

Satoru shakes his head, undeterred by your threats. And suddenly you get the overwhelming urge to throw him out the window and straight into the ocean. “You can deny it all you want, but you still have feelings for me.”

Your jaw clenches at his audacity. “You wish. I’d never.”

“Then prove it.”

Damn, he was good.

Which is probably how you found yourself lying in the same bed as Satoru, with a wall of all the pillows in the room erected between you two - and a few extra from room service just in case. 

“Sweetheart, this is a king-sized bed. Is the fortress really necessary?”

You wrap your blankets tighter around yourself, trying to ignore the figure radiating warm right next to you. Muttering out a muffled little, “Yeah, so you can keep your mitts off of me.”

Satoru groans dramatically, bed creaking as he shuffles what you can only assume to be closer to you. “You keep your mitts off of me, you lecher.” he quips, voice dripping with sarcasm as he inches closer.

You stiffen at his proximity, feeling his warmth seep through the layers of blankets and pillows as he chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine, “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. We used to share a bed all the time.”

“That was before,” you interject. God, you didn’t like where this conversation was going. 

“Before what?” Satoru presses, his voice low and insistent. 

Now, you might’ve let yourself be goaded into sharing a bed but these were old wounds better off left alone. You hiss, tone firm, “Before. Now sleep” 

Before when you didn’t have to make a wall of pillows. Before when he would hold you tight and whisper sweet secrets into your ear. That he’d buy you the biggest ring he saw and promise you the world. Before- 

“I missed you, y’know.” Satoru breaks the silence barely audible over the sound of your own thoughts. The word pangs through your mind and claws at your chest. And at your silence he continues, tone a little lighter, “And stop hogging all the blankets, I’m gonna freeze to-”

“Boardwalk.”

“My apologies, ma’am. Goodnight, ma’am.”

And he sinks back into his pillow with a huff, you let out a sigh of relief. Something hot coiling in your stomach as you close try to catch as much sleep as you possibly could with the bane of your existence laying right beside you. The suddenly taller, dangerously handsome, still as-obnoxious-as-ever bane of your existence. 

You just wonder if he remembered “before”.

Oh, how Satoru remembered “before”. So much so that he had sixteen different playlists dedicated to you even after the breakup.

It’s divine punishment - it has to be. Satoru thinks there’s no reasonable explanation for the series of unfortunate events happening to him other than punishment from his ancestors above for being such a pussy and losing the love of his life.

First he forgets his slippers, then he ends up locked out of his own honeymoon suite by said love of his life. Granted, all thoughts of his poor burnt soles went out the window the moment he caught a glimpse of you in that positively sinful bikini. God, were you glowing. A goddess upon Earth - he could really give the Gojo Satoru of five months ago a good, hard kick.

And now he’s stuck in a - very comfortable - prison with you just inches away, tossing and turning in that way he knows means that you can’t sleep either. 

Honestly, very funny universe, the great Gojo Satoru demands a refund. Way to punk’d him into confronting the feelings he’s desperately been trying to bury these past few months - ever since he got on that plane to Tokyo and contemplated faking a heart attack just to get off. 

Realizing just then that he lost the love of his life - and the only woman who’d tolerate his karaoke nights. But with that realization came another, more jarring one: he was too late. 

Every touch, every laugh, and even every time you rolled your eyes was etched into his very soul, and it felt like a montage from a sappy breakup movie directed by a sadistic screenwriter who had it out for him. 

And it really didn’t help that this was the exact suite he was planning once upon a time to propose in. God, how you’d feed him to the crabs if he said anything about that - nevermind the fact that he was actually one that booked this-

But still, some traitorous, annoying part of his heart interrupts, she still hasn’t made you sleep on the boardwalk yet.

Maybe - just maybe - he’ll wake up to a second chance?

…

Ha. As if.

“I can’t sleep.” Satoru groans out loud, more so to drown out his own thoughts than anything.

“Well, I can. Goodnight.”

Ah, his girl was such a lil’ liar. Undeterred, the mattress creaks as he shuffles his weight to excitedly face you, taking a moment to admire how pretty you looked under the dim moonlight. He plows on, “Hey, if you promise not to make me crab food, wanna walk along the beach and watch the stars?”

A beat of silence. One. Two. so deafening and tense that Satoru was half a second away from obnoxiously laughing it off as a joke and pulling out his Emo Times™ playlist. 

“Or I can go back to the couch and-”

“Shut up. Let’s watch the stars, Satoru.”

But what do you know - maybe the universe hasn’t given up on him just yet. 

And, well, if he woke up the next morning breaching your fortress - your warm breath tickling his neck and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, like the lifeline he never knew he needed - then, neither of you mentioned it.

---

“Hey, Satoru. You think we’ll always be like this?” you hum into your boyfriend’s chest, barely a whisper as the looming fears of, well, everything ring in your mind. 

He pulls you close, flashing a mischievous grin before planting a dramatic kiss on the top of your head. “Duh, I’ll always be around to drive you dangerously close to a stroke, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, yet bury yourself closer to his warmth anyway.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter if I have to drag you by the leg to Tokyo. Wherever you are is where I belong. ”

---

You’ve come to learn that a resort island is only so big when you’re actively trying to avoid your 6’3 manchild of an ex.

Now that you were rooming with Satoru, sleeping with Satoru (in a literal sense only, of course), and just-so-happening to bump into him at the beach - somehow, talking with him is a little easier, his presence just a bit more exciting than you’d care to admit. 

If the you of four days ago could see what had become of you, then she’d probably slap some sense into you faster than you could say “Kill Bill”. Sleeping in the same bed (still only literally), having dinner, watching the stars - with Gojo Satoru? You’ve gone completely off your rocker. 

But could you really be blamed? These last few days have you feeling like maybe you’ve been dropped into an alternate universe, where you and Satoru never broke up. 

Yet, reality is a persistent little bastard. And with the end of your trip looming dangerously closer, the past you would be cackling mockingly in your face, flashing a large sign in big, red letters reading “I TOLD you so.” 

Whatever. Maybe by this time tomorrow both of you could laugh this all off as a silly little adventure and call yourself somewhat begrudging friends. Maybe you’d even end up unblocking him by the end - on Gmail, at least.

At the very least, dinnertime was a solace - both from your thoughts and the smug bastard talking your ear off about how he could “make that spaghetti better than a thousand Italian grandmothers.”

Until the fourth - and final - night, that is. When the resort, deciding that your current torture wasn’t already enough, arranged a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people. 

Great. Wonderful. Perfect, in fact. Going out with a bang. Was this really part of the all-inclusive package? It was like the universe was playing some twisted joke on you - or some awful version of wingmanning. 

You grit your teeth silently as you’re ushered to the beachside table, thoughts barely audible over the waves crashing against the shore and the soft, romantic music drifting from the band nearby. 

The complete opposite of Satoru, who was already seated at the table and enjoying himself far too much for your liking. He lounged back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watched you sit opposite him uncomfortably.

You hated to admit it - but God was he dangerously beautiful in that crisp white button-up, one that you knew was from his overpriced collection for special occasions. You found yourself fighting to avoid the amber hues twinkling in his eyes as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features.

Pretty? So frighteningly pretty - until he speaks, that is.

“And here I thought our honeymoon couldn’t get any worse. You’re sweating bullets, sweetheart. This your first date with me or something?”

“We’re not on a honeymoon, Satoru. And no, it just brings back memories.” you scoff. Relishing in the way he inches his chair closer to listen, clearly not expecting this sudden sentimentality. “Memories of why I blocked you on every social media.”

All but slamming his head down on the table, Satoru whines out, “Ouch, straight for the jugular. That mouth is still as bitchy as ever, huh? Though I do prefer it choking on my-”

“I’m going to throw you into the ocean.”

“Ooo, kinky~” he hums, swirling his wine glass, “But you know what this reminds me of? That one time we had dinner under the stars.”

You froze, the memories suddenly flashing back to you despite your best efforts to suppress them. “Oh yeah,” you muse. A chuckle leaving your mouth despite yourself, “Wasn’t that where you spilled ketchup all over your shirt and then insisted it was a fashion statement?”

He leans in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hey! It worked, didn’t it? I got compliments from everyone including you.”

“I was just trying to stop you from bursting into tears.” you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the memory. 

“Exactly, sweetheart. Like moths to a flame.”

“More like to a bug-zapper.”

Satoru throws his head back and laughs, loud and unabashed. A sound that echoes across the beach and makes something warm and sticky strum at your heartstrings. And at that moment, that stupid, little part of you didn’t even mind that you were at a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people. 

And he didn’t even have to goad you into it with SZA this time.

As the orange glow of the setting sun melded into the cool blue of the night, it almost felt like slipping back into an old routine. The food had long since been finished. Jabs and shared memories flowing through the air like the gentle waves lapping at the shore.

The cool air was now thick with contentment and something so unknown yet so familiar that it made your heart race. 

 “I swear.” you groan over Satoru’s loud cackles, “He tried to charm his way out of the bill by flirting with the waitress. In front of me.”

Satoru doubles over, clutching his stomach as he laughs uproariously. “Classic move! If he’s going to be a cheapskate then he should’ve at least been successful with it.”

Damn, was he eternally grateful for these dim candles. Otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flushing tinting his cheeks. How dare you sit there so gorgeous and perfect in front of him. Perfect for him - you haven’t changed one bit.

“Right? She looked ready to fling us both out.” You chuckle, eyes catching on the little dimple just at the corner of his mouth as Satoru shoots you a sly grin. “Mhm, I know if it were me I would’ve charmed us out of the bill successfully.”

You raise a brow, retorting, “Oh please. I’ve had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of that ‘charm’. You’d probably end up charming us into washing dishes in the kitchen.” 

Ah, right now, he doesn’t think he wants to be anywhere but here - bickering with you. 

“Ouch, you wound me, woman!” Satoru feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically before leaning down to whisper, low and conspiratorial, “Besides, I doubt you even remember what pleasure feels like since being with me.”

A thrill goes down your spine as you realize the insinuation of his words, steady and searing - matching that of  Satoru’s fingers on yours - which had snuck their way across the table, lazily tracing patterns along your skin. 

When did they even get there? Sly bastard.

Your mouth drops into a soft oh! at the dangerous glint in his eyes. But you refuse to back down, “Don’t flatter yourself, Satoru. I’ve had other guys make me cum much harder than you have.”

Touch burning. Mapping every curve and dip he’d known so well, and this time - you graze them back. A challenge. God, you missed that warm little flutter in your chest. 

That seems to catch him by surprise, as those darkened blue eyes widen. But there’s a dangerous edge to his grin as he purrs, voice low. “Is that so?” 

And with that, Satoru’s chair is scraping softly against the sand as he stands up, “C’mon, you’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.”

Oh. 

Satoru knows that it’s been 5 months, 4 weeks, and 8 hours since you two lasted an entire dinner civilly - not that he was counting, duh.

So when he begged the resort staff into setting the two of you up on this special candlelit dinner, he was expecting you to drown him in the lobster tank halfway through or at least end the night with a slap. 

What he certainly did not expect was to end dinner with you shoved against the closed door of your suite, legs wrapped impossibly tight around his waist, and lips trailing hot, openmouthed kisses down your neck. He angles your neck, body pressing so impossibly close to yours.

Inwardly, you curse his button-up for being so goddamn thin that you could feel his abs rub against you with every little movement. Toned chest rumbling as he groans at your hands tugging at those soft locks - just a tiny revenge, for your body lotion. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, and he breathes it in with an almost-pained sigh - not wanting to part for even a second. Because fuck it took so long to get you back and he wasn’t going to waste a single moment. 

Pulling just a hair’s breadth away, “Tell me what you want. Always knew we’d end up-”

“Just shut up and kiss me, you smug bastard.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And, well, who was he to deny you? So he does. 

His lips are searing on yours, hasty and greedy. With a tinge of something so painfully familiar. Your hands make their way onto his chest, feeling the thundering heartbeat against your fingertips - matching that of yours. 

Sweet. You tasted so sweet. Just like honey, and all the dreams where he didn’t leave you behind. Where he didn’t get on that damned plane but instead ran to you all the way from the airport like those sappy romcoms you love. 

He licks at the seam of your lips, drinking in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, God, knowing his luck - he probably won’t. 

One hand cups your cheek so gently - a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his lips as he kisses you deeper. Meanwhile the other wanders the expanse of your body, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake.

Satoru parts with a playful nip to your bottom lip - and before you realize what’s happening, the zipper hits the ground. He’s ripping your pretty dress off - mumbling something about “buying a new one” before large hands surge forward, groping and kneading your tits.

His mouth waters at the sight of your bra. Light blue - to match his eyes. “You evil, evil woman.” he mutters into the soft valley of your breasts as you giggle delightedly. Oh, how he couldn’t get enough of you.

And if there was ever a moment that Satoru thinks he could cream his pants right there, then this would be at the very top, followed very closely by the sight of that withering glare you shot after opening that suite door to him just a few days ago.

He unhooks your bra with one hand, throwing it blindly across the room as if it killed him to see you clothed. 

Immediately, Satoru drops to his knees with the desperation of a madman, coming face-to face with the heavenly sight of your clothed cunt, soaking through your thin panties. 

“Didn’t specify where I had to kiss, sweetheart.”

Your gaze pierces through him, as it always did. “What are you-” Your words get choked up in your throat as his tongue darts out. Licking a long, languid stripe over your clothed cunt. 

“Shit. So sweet f’me, jus’ like I remember. Just one taste and I feel like m’gonna cum in my pants.” Satoru groans, urgently sliding your wet panties down your quivering legs. 

“F-flattery won’t work.” you stammer out as his hot breath fans your quivering entrance as he waits just a second - one, two.

Drinking in the view of your pretty pussy with dazed, half-lidded eyes. Wet - so wet, he almost wants to tease you - just a bit, to see if you’ll get even wetter. Ah, he doesn’t have enough time to take in this view - probably never will. Would it ruin the mood if he took a picture?

“Oh, I’d say it worked pretty well.”

Cock twitching carnally, Satoru needed to taste you now. He immediately surges forward. Breathing you in so sinfully, pooling your juices on his tongue. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tips his head back back back to let it slide down his throat. 

Shit, if you were the forbidden fruit then he would gladly be cast out of the garden of Eden. 

Half-delirious thoughts running through his mind, Satoru flattens his tongue across your swollen folds. Leisurely sliding between them, catching on your throbbing clit up and down up and down up and-

“Oh- hngh, Satoru faster-”

“So bossy.” he hums prettily around your swollen clit, the vibrations stimulating it just right. But of course, what his girl wants, she will get. 

Lewd squelches and your mewls of his name ring in the heady room as he speeds up his ministrations. Rolling his tongue harshly along your clit, sucking so sensually. Licking at your sweet cunt, dipping just into your sloppy hole. 

You almost miss the long fingers that deftly slide their way up your thigh, spreading your folds with his thumbs. A low groan sounds at the back of his throat as your walls flutter so sinfully around nothing - aching for more friction. 

Urgently, Satoru bullies his fingers past your folds, sinking deep into your plushy walls as his tongue continues its abuse. So warm and wet around him. Curling his fingers just right.

“Ah- fuck, Satoru- Feels s’good.” you gasp as he starts thrusting his fingers back and forth. A ruthless pace that has tears stinging your eyes, hitting that spot over and over and-

“Oh yeah? Thought you didn’t like my ‘big mouth’?” he purrs, muffled around your clit, “Look at you, sweetheart, now falling apart cos’ of it.”

You scoff, fingers tangling in his silky hair, pushing him deeper into your dripping pussy - mostly because you needed it, but somewhat because you really needed him to shut up. “Yeah, I like it better when you shut the fuck up.”

And with a dark chuckle, his mouth is back on your cunt. Your slick glossy and dripping down the corner of his mouth as he alternates between sucking unforgivingly on your ravaged clit and fucking into you at the same time as his fingers. 

And in the delicious stretch of your cunt, you barely register the metallic clinking of a belt before Satoru presses his clothed erection into you.

Shit. You clench so obscenely around his tongue at the feeling of his clothed, painfully hard and throbbing against your leg. Fuck - as big as you remember. You weren’t gonna be able to walk for a while.

“You like this, huh?” he murmurs, speeding up the rhythm of his fingers. Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure down your spine.

Cracking an eye open you risk a glance downward. Greedily eyeing the hand wrapped tightly around the base, moving up up up. Pumping in small, jerky movements at the same pace of his fingers fucking into you. “Like the way m’getting off to tonguefucking my girl?”

“Like thinking about how this is what I thought about all those lonely fucking night without you?” You arch into his touch, fingers searing on his scalp and angling Satoru just right to make your knees weak. 

He’s so close that you can feel the precum smearing onto your leg. Mouth fucking you in a way you knew he wanted to with his cock right now. Rough and unrelenting. 

“Like thinking about how you’re all I can fucking think about.”

“Hngh- Yes, Satoru! Yes-” 

You see stars as you cum - or maybe those were the tears in your eyes. Pulling Satoru impossibly closer to your quivering pussy so that you could ride out your high on his pretty face. And he readily accepts it - letting himself be handled roughly with the conviction of a man that wouldn’t mind dying if it was suffocating in-between your pretty thighs. 

Your vision is hazy, blood still roaring in your ears as Satoru stands up. Not even bothering to wipe away the wet trail of your slick prettily glossing his lips before capturing yours in a searing kiss. 

“Y’know, sweetheart,” he gasps in between heated kisses. “We got a king-sized bed so we better make use of it, hm?”

Your back hits the mattress before you can even react. Reeling from shock and the audacity as you bounce at the sheer force of his throw. 

“Next time you do that you’re-” 

Whatever insult at the tip of your tongue melts away immediately at the purely pornographic sight of Satoru stalking his way towards you from the foot of the bed. Eyes hooded, cock rock-hard, kiss-bitten lips parted slightly in a way that was so fucked-out.

Unhurriedly approaching you with such a predatory glint in his darkened eyes as he fucks his fist slowly - so agonizingly slowly. Eyes locked on you.

Despite cumming not even minutes before, your pussy jumps in anticipation. Immediately reaching over as soon as he’s close enough - as if in a trance - to replace his hand with yours. 

He was big - so mouthwateringly big. Flushed your favorite shade of pink at his leaking tip, pulsing veins glistening in the dim light - every part of Satoru was so unfairly pretty.

So hot and heavy in your hand as you pump him at a steady, methodical pace. Precum smearing on your palm, trailing down your wrist as you pump. Tighter on the base, thumbing teasingly under his slit the way you knew he used to like. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Still remember, huh?” he hisses lowly. Ah, the way he still likes. 

“Mhm.” you hum absentmindedly, thighs clenching together at the way his hips grind in shallow, mindless little motions into your soft hand. Meeting your strokes as if trying to fuck something so delicious out of him.

And, well, you just couldn’t resist a taste. Bending down in one, fluid motion to delicately lick at his angry, hard head. Slightly salty taste on your tongue as you swipe at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. Tracing lightly - ever-so-lightly - down his prominent veins. 

Satoru groans, low and hoarse with desire, “Shit, hah- you don’ ngh- have to-”

“Shut up, Satoru.” 

And with that, you’re shoving down as much as you can of his throbbing erection down your throat. Cunt clenching at the way he hardens impossibly as you choke and gag around him.

“Shit, oh- Oh fuck, m’girl. Yes yes yes-.” Satoru lets out a guttural moan. Fingers threading through your hair as he uses it as leverage to fuck himself slowly, deeper and deeper into your heavenly mouth. Hips stuttering and jerky with pleasure. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Half-delirious and cock-drunk, you take him all the way till your nose was buried in the tufts of white at his toned pelvis, already so wet with saliva and precum. 

Still got it, some smug, utterly debauched part of yourself titters. 

It was dizzying, the way he was pulsing in your throat, his heady scent filling your senses. Beginning to move up and down up and down in hasty, desperate bobs of your head. Pulling such lewd gasps and moans from his lips. 

You moan around Satoru’s thick cock, clawing at his toned hips for some semblance of stability. Some truly animalistic part of yourself relishing in the neat, red lines down his milky skin. The sight hazy through the tears that spring to your eyes at the way his fat tip hits your abused throat. A relentless, sinful tempo you were steadily losing your mind to.

Messy.  It was so fucking messy.

You just wondered if his orgasm would be the same…

But, alas, one can’t always get what they want. Because Satoru pulls you off of his achingly hard cock with a lewd pop! that rings in his ears and makes your cunt twitch. 

“Shit, sweetheart. Any longer and I’ll have to start thinking about ol’ Prof. Gakuganji to not cum.” he pants through ragged breaths, flashing you a deceptively innocent grin. “Now, lay back and spread ‘em f’me and let me see if your pretty pussy can still handle me.”

And that you don’t argue with. 

It’s almost embarrassing - the way you scramble desperately to sink back into the mattress. Letting Satoru manhandle your legs open so shamefully for him, throwing them over his muscled shoulders. But that’s a problem for the future, not lust-drunk you. 

Right now you couldn’t give less of a fuck as his hungry gaze locks on your glistening pussy. Pausing for just a split-second before spitting once. Twice. Thrice onto your waiting cunt. Making you feel more and more like an object as the warm saliva mixes obscenely with your slick, trickling down to form such a sinful pool on the sheets below. 

And you liked it.

Almost as much as you loved the way Satoru drags his tip along your swollen folds, catching so maddeningly on your clit. Teasingly pooling your slick on his leaking head. It was so sloppy. And too slow. 

“Satoru, I’ve waited five months too long for this. If you’re going to fuck me then fuck me like you mean it.” you grit out, frustration and pure need boiling over within you. 

“Oh? So it’s like that, huh?” 

And maybe you were a mastermind, maybe you were an idiot - probably both. Because Satoru immediately pushes in one, long thrust into your dripping cunt. Your words catch pathetically in your throat as he loses grip on whatever semblance of restraint he had - or his sanity - whichever one would break you first. 

Fuck, it feels so heavenly. Oh, how you missed him.

Bowing his body down down down till his damp forehead met yours. Folding you completely underneath him in the way you’ve found that only the smug bastard, Gojo Satoru can. 

You could almost sob at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, borderline insane, and exactly what you’d been trying to deny that you’d been craving all these past five months. Being split apart on his throbbing cock, feeling like you were about to be absolutely devoured underneath him. 

It seems Satoru was just as needy for you, hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump against your walls matching that of your heart thundering against your chest. 

Or was that Satoru’s? At this point you couldn’t even tell. 

“Oh, god yes-, jus’ like that ah shit shit shit-”

“This what you wanted, yeah?” A low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully your walls were milking him as he pulls back. All the way till his leaking tip was just innocently kissing your sloppy hole - only to ram his cock all the way back into your snug cunt. “To be split apart on my cock?” 

Shit, he could just about pass out right now with the way your cunt was sucking him in so greedily like she never wanted to part. 

Guess she missed him too, he thinks deliriously. Not even having to think about it as he starts fucking into you in shallow, mindless little thrusts. Pushing himself deeper and deeper into your plushy cunt. 

“Äh- fuck, yeah. S’all I’ve wanted.” you mewl, feeling so vulnerable and exposed under the hungry eyes boring into yours. A dark gleam in them as he grins, “Then take it back.”

Disoriented, you gasp out a strangled, “What?” before Satoru’s hips become rougher, chasing his high as much as yours. 

“What you said at dinner.” your lips fall into a soft oh! as you realize just what he’s talking about, “Admit that no man makes you cum as hard as I do.”

God, you don’t think you could answer even if you wanted to, choking on the harsh, purposeful movements of his hips just to fuck your soul out. 

Heavy balls stinging your skin, the lewd sounds of skin-on-skin fills the heady air. Driving you to insanity. An absolutely unforgiving cadence that has the bed creaking in protest. Ah, whatever, he could buy them a new one anyway if this one just so happens to break.

“Take it back yet?” He had to break you first though.

Slick gushes out of your heated cunt, dripping down his length and pooling at his heavy balls, stinging your ass at each merciless thrust. “No.” 

A large hand hastily makes its way down to draw rough, frenzied little circles on your throbbing clit. Voice strangled, sweat beading on his forehead, thrusts becoming increasingly sloppier. “How about now?”

“Ah- hngh- oh fuck. Satoru!” You could only moan softly in response, broken whimpers leaving you each time his tip kissed your cervix. Angling his hips just right to expertly brush against that one spot he knew so well would have you keening and bucking up into his cock. Your face almost burns at the sheer familiarity of it all. This bastard knew you too well. 

And something about that made such an uncomfortable, prickly feeling pool in your stomach. 

Something which you knew would only be sated if you looped your arms around his neck. Nails digging into his sculpted back as you pulled him impossibly closer.

Kissing his flushed cheeks as he murmurs, “Take it back, sweetheart.”

Despite the thick cock splitting you in half till you probably couldn’t walk tomorrow morning, you find it in yourself to huff out a soft laugh at the way Satoru’s tone teetered on just that endearing side of sulky. “Fine. You win, Toru.” you whisper into his lips,

And then you’re cumming. White-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes and Satoru’s lips gently slotting against yours as he fucked you through your high. Acting as if the fucked-out whimper of his nickname is one he’ll never forget. 

As if he couldn’t cum simply from hearing it leave your pretty lips. And he does, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum painting your plushy walls white with a raw groan of your name. It oozes out of your cunt and onto the mess of sheets below as he fucks his seed into you as a lover would. As he would. 

It was intoxicating - everything from the way you milked his cock so sinfully, to the arms tight around his shoulders. Pulling him close, running soothingly along his skin as Satoru collapses onto you with a final, fucked-out thrust. 

And despite being a lightweight, Satoru’s never been so easily drunk off of something than he was off of you. God how he missed this - how he missed you. 

So much so that he can’t put it into words - and probably won’t ever be able to. But it’s alright, because your sticky body snug against his, and Satoru arms tenderly around your waist - but you didn’t mind. Both of you understood.

Satoru traces his fingers lazily along your side, neither of you bothering to tackle the mammoth task of cleaning up for now. Each movement slow and gentle, as if any sudden movement might shatter the delicate balance between you. 

All is quiet in your little haven, and you could almost fall asleep. The most contented one you’ve had in a while - 5 months, 3 weeks, and 7 hours ago to be exact.

But, of course, Satoru can’t keep his mouth shut for nothing. You jolt out of your reverie as he hastily tries to stifle the startled laugh that huffs out of him. Your dazed eyes meet his in the dim lighting, raising a brow in question.

“It’s just…” he starts, voice soft, “You still call me Toru. Feels like home.”

Ah.

You find yourself chuckling softly with him. Heat rushing to your cheeks, burying yourself deeper into his warm chest, to hide the embarrassingly flustered smile breaking out across your face if anything. 

Chuckling, Satoru shifts closer, touch now feather-light against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips. Faltering ever-so-slightly as you mutter out, “Happy anniversary, by the way. I didn’t say it earlier because someone was being a public menace.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault that someone locked me out of my own honeymoon suite.” he laughs, drinking in your pretty lil’ smile. 

Ah, you were perfect. As you always were. Satoru can’t help but utter out a little, “Hey, if I tell you something absolutely stupid, would you promise not to make me fish food?”

“Absolutely not.”

He knew you’d say that. So he flashes you an easy grin, a hint of nervousness in it that he’s sure you see through - you always do. 

“So…” he begins, “First thing’s first, I’m thinking of expanding my father’s company further overseas and it might just so happen that I’m leading the branch development and get to pick where exactly.”

God, you made him feel like such a teenager. At your stunned silence, Satoru could barely raise his eyes to meet yours as he plows on, stumbling so uncharacteristically over his words, “You, I picked where you are.”

You’re breathless, words barely audible as his sinks in. “What? Toru that’s-”

“And don’t be mad but you kinda sorta didn’t-win-the-raffle-so-instead-I-planned-this-getaway-when-we-were-together.”

Any and every trace of breathless euphoria leaves your tone as you narrow your eyes at the very guilty Satoru beside you. Fidgeting under your intense scrutiny. Finally - after what seems like an eternity - you find your senses after his whiplash-inducing information dump. 

A hand immediately shoots out to squeeze his side, right where you knew he was dangerously ticklish.

“You sneaky little-” you scold over his laughed out yells of, “Mercy! No murder on our honeymoon!” squirming helplessly beneath you.

“I can’t believe you let me chug all that ice cream.”

“Exactly- hah- help! You w-would’ve been so sad that you ah- didn’t win.” he manages to choke out under your attack.

Finally relenting, only once you’re sure he’ll be feeling the burn of laughter until your flight tomorrow, you release him from your grasp. A satisfied smirk playing on your lips as you lean in close. “You’re lucky I still love you, you smug bastard” you deadpan.

“Aww, you beat me to it.” Satoru whines. Yet he reaches out to cup your cheek, “And I love you,” words hanging in the air like a promise. “With every fiber of my being.”

You let yourself be begrudgingly pulled into his embrace again, hands caressing along your skin like the highest form of worship. Satoru sighs out a contented, “Best honeymoon ever.” 

But of course, you couldn’t help but bully your idiotic boyfriend. “This is not a honeymoon, Toru.” you mutter into his heated skin.

He only presses you closer to him. Yeah maybe not, fingers deftly dancing along your left hand. But maybe next time. 

“Wanna watch the stars and tell me all about that branch development?”

“Of course, sweetheart, but first can you at least unblock me on Gmail now?”

“...”

You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 3 weeks, and 12 hours ago. And as for how long it’s been since he won you back - well, you think it might just be one of the few things you didn’t keep count of.

A/N. Based on my vacay at Lily Beach except I didn’t meet my future husband there :0

Plagiarism not authorized.

[cheriedivine]

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Chapter 7

previous | chapter 7 | next

꩜ synopsis: you’re best friends. just best friends. except when she lingers a little too long at your door. except when she calls you her favorite, and it doesn’t feel like a joke. except when her fingers graze yours and neither of you pull away. except when you start to wonder if she’s wondering, too…

꩜ pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (No use of y/n)

꩜ content warnings: smoking, weed, smut (finally)

꩜ WC: 11.7k

꩜ Author’s note: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT AND IM SO TERRIFIED PLZ… also thank u guys for the sweet comments and messages i’m over the moon grateful, this series is so special to me and it’s not even close to be done okay… y’all will get tired of my ass. Anyway enjoy the chapter love u happy pride month<3

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

"Wait, but when did you actually catch feelings for me, though?" you asked for what had to be the millionth time.

Honestly, Ellie didn’t mind repeating herself. If anything, she kind of loved it. The way you always wanted to hear it again, like replaying your favorite song over and over again. Every time she recalled it, she seemed to remember something new. Like the way your eyes lingered just a second too long on hers when you talked, or how your pinkies always seemed to find each other when you sat side by side. Small things. Things she could never forget.

September had slipped by quickly, and in the blink of an eye, October had arrived, trading warm evenings for cooler nights and scattering orange and brown leaves across the sidewalks. It had been a month since your first kiss, (Not like you were counting or whatever). A month of sleepovers, shared sweaters, tangled limbs, nonstop texting, and sneaking into the diner’s back office during your breaks for rushed makeout sessions. Maria had almost banned you from going back there altogether. Ellie had just grinned and said, “Worth the risk.”

“I’ve told you like, a hundred times,” she said now, clearly enjoying the way you whined for her to say it again.

The two of you were tangled up on her couch, limbs lazily thrown over each other. Ellie was supposed to be sorting through prints for her gallery, her best photos from the week. Some from your recent hangouts: walks in the park under trees turned orange, city crosswalks filled with motion blur, candids of you laughing or distracted, the occasional stray cat she couldn’t help but snap. She’d taken the gallery prep seriously. Of course she had to. But lately, it was like you kept happening to her, distracting and consuming in all the best, worst ways.

You sat curled up on the couch, legs tucked under yourself, a book open in your lap, rereading the same paragraph over and over. You weren’t even paying attention to the text. How were you supposed to focus when she looked like that? Her sleeves pushed up, veins visible along her tattooed forearm as she leaned over her table, elbows braced, studying the scattered prints.

“Your death stare is making it very hard for me to analyze these pictures,” she muttered without looking up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm. I can feel it burning a hole through my skull.”

“Can’t help it,” you said, smiling. “You’re too pretty.”

God, the way that made her chest flutter. She shook her head, hiding a tiny smile. Trying to play it cool, but she was already blushing hard. She gathered up the prints and slid them into a folder, then walked over and dropped her full body weight onto you with a dramatic sigh. Her favorite move. Full body crush, almost knocking the air out of your lungs. Face buried in your chest like she could inhale you and forget the gallery pressure altogether.

You didn’t mind. Not even a little. You stroked her hair slowly, gently, like she was fragile, like you knew how much she needed softness. You stayed like that for a while, Ellie breathing you in, inhaling your scent like the oxygen she needed to live, her eyes were closed as you ran your fingers through her hair.

Both of you spent more time together. Even more than before. On the rare day you didn’t hang out because your schedules didn’t align, it felt like a tragedy. Like someone had sent her off to war. It was all so giddy, high school-level giddy. You felt like a teenager again…sneaking out of the group hangs early just to be alone with her. Play-fighting over who had to hang up first. So many dates, even if Ellie still stubbornly insisted on calling them hangouts like it made a difference. You’d been doing the romantic shit before you even kissed.

“C’monnn, just wanna make sure you weren’t secretly foolin’ me or something.” You pouted again, that same little face that made Ellie’s knees weak every time.

Ellie groaned and buried her face deeper into your chest, voice muffled. “I mean, what haven’t I told you?” Then she tilted her face to look up at you, cheeks slightly red from being squished against you.

“When we met I was basically obsessed with you. But I told myself, ‘Don’t be a creep, Ellie. This is why you only have one friend. Stop being delusional.’” She paused, a little smile tugging at her lips. “But with you, everything felt different. Like I didn’t have to hide. Still, I was too stubborn to admit I liked you like that. Lived in constant denial.”

You watched her talk. Taking in every expression, you could study her mouth and eyes for hours and never get bored. The way her brow furrowed when she talked about feelings. The way her voice softened at the edges when she looked at you like this. You’d heard this story before, at least a dozen times. And still, it made something warm unravel in your chest.

“So that explains the flirting with random girls?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in mock interrogation.

She groaned. “I had to cope in some way, plus seeing all those guys hit on you at the diner kinda ripped me apart, but didn’t say anything.”

“I told you,” you said, crossing your arms, “I laugh when I’m nervous. Doesn’t mean I liked it. Plus, I flirted with you all the time. You were just too hard-headed to notice.”

Ellie grabbed the nearest cushion and tossed it at your face.

Which of course triggered a full-blown pillow war.

You wrestled and squealed and laughed until Ellie gave up and surrendered. You were breathless, Ellie’s limbs sprawled on the couch, with you sitting between her legs, flushed and grinning.

And then she grabbed your face, gently leaning in, still catching her breath and kissed you like she’d been waiting all day to do it.

You think about it all the time. How everything but still nothing changed after the kiss, like it was always meant to go this way. There was no big moment or sudden change. Just small things that added up to everything.

Ellie started picking you up after your late shifts, waiting out front in her beat up truck with the heater cranked and a hoodie in the passenger seat for you to throw on. She always claimed you looked better in her clothes, especially that faded blue hoodie, the one she kept pretending she didn’t miss when you “accidentally” took it home.

Your hangouts had shifted into something else. There wasn’t that quiet, aching longing hanging in the air anymore, not in the same way. After that night at your apartment, Ellie promised she’d take you on a date. A real one.

Like the kind you’d gush about in those cheesy movies you love, and what better place to live out a cliché than the fair…where the air was thick with fried grease and too-loud pop music, and where she finally had a decent excuse to hold your hand on the roller coasters.

Neon lights blinked in seizure-inducing patterns while kids screamed on rickety rides in the distance. Ellie had dragged you from booth to booth, fully committed to her vendetta against rigged carnival games.

“I swear this is the one,” she said, squinting at the line of wobbling bottles.

“You said that about the ring toss. And basketball. And the darts.”

Her eyes locked on the duck shooting booth. Yellow plastic ducks glided across a narrow trough, jerking mechanically as bubbles popped around them.

“Oh,” she said, eyes glinting. “This is my game.”

You trailed behind her as she calmly gave the booth guy a crumpled five, taking her jacket off and handing it over to you.

She rolled up the sleeves of her flannel, revealing her forearms, tattoo on full display, veins trailing down to her hands like thunders on a stormy night and took her place at the mounted water gun like it was a sniper rifle.

You blinked. “Oh my god.”

She leaned in. Tongue poking out slightly. Face unreadably focused. Hands gripping the water gun with total control, like she’d done this before, maybe in a past life. The light caught the curve of her jaw just right, and your brain short-circuited.

You started to feel as if you had been lit up in fire, was it hot in here?

Ellie didn’t speak. She just adjusted her stance a little, lips pursed, and let the water stream rip. One by one, the ducks fell, each hit perfectly in the center like she had memorized the timing and rhythm.

By the time the buzzer rang, Ellie had cleared the whole line.

You stared at her, wide eyed. “What the fuck,” you breathed.

Ellie blew imaginary smoke from the tip of the gun. “Told you. My game.”

You gaped. “Are you secretly, like… ex-military?”

“Duck assassin,” she replied coolly, already pointing to a shelf of prizes.

She chose the smallest one, a crooked little stuffed bear with lopsided button eyes and shoved it into your arms in exchange of her jacket, like it wasn’t a big deal, even though she was clearly suppressing a smug smile.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Uh-huh.” She bumped her shoulder into yours. “You like the bear though.”

You did. Stupidly so.

You held it to your chest and muttered, “Yeah I do.”

She was grinning like stupid, tossing her jacket over your shoulders like a shield, as she grabbed your hand and dragged you to the next game.

You still sleep with that bear sometimes. Not that you’d ever tell her.

Another time, it was the planetarium. This one had been your idea, half-jokingly, you didn’t expect much when you pitched it, just a casual “we could go to the planetarium or whatever,” but when the words fell out of your lips Ellie’s eyes gleamed like a kid on christmas morning.

“No way,” she’d said, practically bouncing. “I thought you weren’t into that kind of stuff?”

“Wanna go or no?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m in.”

She’d shown up five minutes early, hair still damp from a rushed shower, hoodie zipped up to her chin, smelling faintly like mint and laundry detergent. Her eyes were wide, childlike, curious, like she wasn’t totally sure what she was about to walk into but her pulse rushed from the thrill.

Inside, the lights dimmed. The dome lit up. Stars bloomed across the ceiling like someone had torn open the sky. Ellie tilted her head all the way back, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “Holy shit,” she whispered. “This is… fucking sick.”

You were already watching her more than the ceiling.

“Knew you’d like it,” you said, voice low.

She didn’t even respond. Just stared upward, entranced, like the stars were spelling out something only she could read.

Halfway through the show, during some slow narration about galaxies forming, you felt her hand brush against yours on the shared armrest. A light graze. Just the backs of your fingers, hesitant at first. Then she slid her pinky over yours, this time more purposeful. Like it was no big gesture, but you felt like the sun was imploding inside of you.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t look at you, just linked your fingers together, her thumb tracing small circles over yours, soft and delicate.

Her voice stayed low the whole time, whispering random facts on your ear, with the sweetest tone, like she couldn’t help herself.

“Neptune’s winds are faster than the speed of sound,” she muttered. “Like… hypersonic. That’s insane.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, too distracted by the glint in her eye.

“And Jupiter’s Great Red Spot is a storm. Like a storm. It’s been raging for three hundred years and it’s big enough to fit Earth inside it, like—” she made a quiet whooshing sound, “—in one bite.”

Her hand squeezed yours a little. Like she got excited and forgot she was even holding you.

You nodded. “That’s… intense.”

She shot you a glance. “You’re not listening, are you?”

She could’ve told you the sun was made of hot dogs and you wouldn’t have noticed. You were too busy staring at her profile, glowing faintly blue under the artificial sky.

“Yeah, no sorry I got a bit lost, what did you say?”

Ellie smirked, a bit shy now. “Nothing.”

She leaned in slightly, placing a quick peck on the top of your head, breathing in your perfume, then turned away, but she saw the smile tug at your lips.

After the show, you walked out into the cool night air, fingers still brushing like they weren’t quite ready to let go.

“I’m not usually, like… a space person. But that was cool.” You said, as you walked out into the night.

Ellie bumped her shoulder into yours. “You’re a space person now. Deal with it.”

You gave her a look, maybe more earnest than you meant it to be. “Only because of you.”

She paused. Looking at you. Then shoved her hands in her hoodie pocket and looked away, clearly fighting a smile.

“Whatever,” she mumbled, ears a little pink. “You’re welcome.”

You both stood there for a second, silent.

But your favorite one was definitely the arcade date. You hadn’t planned it, it was just one of those random afternoons where Ellie showed up at the diner unannounced, leaning against the doorframe waiting for your shift to be over, with that smug little grin of hers.

“You busy?” she asked, truck keys twirling around her fingers.

You weren’t. Not even a little.

The drive was filled with chatter, windows rolled down, music loud, and Ellie’s hand tapping against the steering wheel, like she was playing the backup drums on whatever song was playing. You were both laughing, until you passed a neon sign that read ARCADE & PIZZA, you practically almost turned the wheel yourself.

“Wait Ellie turn around—pull over.”

Ellie flinched. “Okay okay— Jesus you scared me for a second.” You grinned, already unbuckling your seatbelt as Ellie pulled over the parking lot.

“I haven’t been to an arcade since I was like twelve I think” you said as you threw Ellie’s hoodie over your head.

“Wow. Nerd” she snorted, earning a small kick on her heel.

Inside, it smelled like childhood. Pizza and dusty carpets, it was oddly nostalgic. The place was loud, packed with kids and their parents, and a couple of teenagers. Neon lights were blindingly colorful, you felt like your twelve year old self again.

“Alright,” she said, cracking her knuckles dramatically. “Where the competition at?”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe over there, at Jason’s 9th birthday party.” you joked, pointing at the table surrounded by little kids.

Ellie scoffed, “Pffft, easy wins, where is the real competition at?" she glanced over at you.

Oh, you knew where this was going.

“Just say you want to get your ass kicked by me, Williams, not that hard.”

Her grin widened. “You’re on now. Loser pays for the winner’s pizza.”

“Deal.” Both of you squeezed your hands, like you were making some sort of business deal, but this was way more serious.

You didn’t know Ellie had a competitive streak until she practically shoved a 10-year-old out of the way to get to the skee-ball machine.

“Ellie,” you hissed. “You can’t just—”

“He was taking forever,” she snapped, already rolling the ball with deadly focus. “I got shit to prove.”

She won three games in a row.

“Okay, what the fuck,” you growled, staring at the air hockey scoreboard like it had insulted your ancestors. “You’re cheating. There’s no way.”

“You’re just bad,” she teased, throwing the small ball in the air and catching it with her hand. “Maybe I should give you lessons. Private ones.”

“Wow. Cocky.”

“I mean, I did just wipe the floor with you.”

“Oh yeah?” you leaned forward, tempting her, but then you turned around, spotting the motorcycle racing game. Two bikes. One screen. Destiny.

You dragged her over the machine, both mounted the fake bikes revving them like you’d trained your whole lives. Ellie leaned forward, focused her hands gripping the throttle. Her tongue poked out, focused. You knew that look.

Meanwhile you adjusted yourself on the seat, inserting the quarters on the coin slot, your back was slightly arched, causing your shirt to ride up a little and making the small dimples on your lower back visible. Ellie almost fell from her bike at the sight of that. And you weren’t even aware.

“It’s over for you Williams, prepare to eat dust.” you teased.

“You fucking wish.”

The countdown started and the game launched. You took the lead, she trailed behind you, both leaning into turns like you were actually swerving through a neon-lit city. At one moment, your eyes drifted toward Ellie’s arms, her forearm tattoo flexing, adorned by her pulsing veins from gripping the bike handle. God it was unfair—you almost forgot you were in a competition with her.

“Hey, eyes on the road,” she joked, but she was secretly enjoying your staring.

In the end? You won. Throwing your arms up in celebration. “HA. SUCK IT.”

Ellie blinked at the scoreboard in disbelief, “No. Rematch. Right now. My screen lagged.”

“Boohoo excuses are for losers.” you laughed so hard you almost fell off your bike.

The next stop was the dance machine.

Ellie looked skeptical. “I don’t know, dude…”

You were already dragging her by the hoodie. “Nope. No backing out. It’s fate.”

She rolled her eyes but followed. “If I break my ankle, I’m blaming you.”

The game started. The song was fast, the tiles lit up like a rave, and the both of you? Horrible dancers. Absolutely terrible.

You couldn’t stop laughing. Ellie missed the first five steps, almost fell twice, and kept yelling “this is a fucking death trap!” like the machine was out to get her.

But then, something shifted.

Halfway through, she got weirdly into it. Jaw set. Eyes sharp. She started nailing every step, stomping on the lit tiles like she was born in a dancing tournament. She even grabbed your waist at one point, spinning you into position like it was a choreographed number.

“Are you sabotaging me?” you shrieked.

“This is war,” she said, dead serious.

She won that round. You demanded a rematch. She won again.

“Okay,” you panted, doubled over. “You win this one.”

“Jealous.”

“You literally looked like you were summoning demons with your feet.”

“And?”

You played other games after that. Basketball hoops. Whack-a-mole. She tried to win you a prize at the claw machine and got so mad she almost kicked it.

But then— you saw it. The air hockey table.

You gasped. “Oh no.”

Ellie followed your gaze. “Oh yes.”

You both slammed quarters into the machine. Ellie narrowed her eyes, “I’m going to annihilate you.” she said.

You smirked. “You literally just lost the motorcycle race.”

Ellie sighed like a martyr. “Fine. But I’m not holding back.”

“You’ve never held back in your life.”

You both slid your coins in. The machine lit up with that familiar vvvvvmmm of the puck loading up. Ellie rolled her shoulders, cracked her knuckles, and positioned herself like she was about to defuse a bomb. You grabbed your paddle like it was a mortal weapon.

The puck dropped.

The first point? Yours. Quick and clean.

“Fuck yeah!” you whooped, lifting your arms.

Ellie pointed dramatically. “Beginner’s luck.”

The next round? She scored while you were still dancing from your previous win.

“Rude!” you cried.

“Focus up,” she said, eyes glinting.

You both got so intense. The puck clacked across the table like a bullet. Your knuckles started aching from the collisions. Ellie was muttering things like “calculated trajectory” and “this is physics, baby,” which was ridiculous and also extremely hot.

The score climbed. 4 to 4. 5 to 5. 6 to 6.

Final point.

She squinted at you over the rim of the table. “Winner gets a kiss.”

You blinked. “You just made that up.”

“So?”

“…Fair.”

The puck shot out again, and for a moment, everything slowed. Ellie lunged. You twisted your paddle. The puck bounced off the wall—

—and slid right into her goal.

You blinked. Slowly. Then looked up.

Victory.

Ellie just stood there, stunned. Paddle slack in her hand.

“I think you’re choking,” you said softly. “Want some victory soda?”

She groaned, dragging both hands down her face. “I hate this stupid game. This game is rigged. It’s broken.”

“You’re a bad loser, you know that?” you grinned, crossing your arms.

“Can I at least get a consolation prize?” she pouted, and gave her a small kiss on her cheek.

Those memories blurred together now. Warm and fast, like a highlight reel you couldn’t help but replay in your head. The way Ellie had looked at you in the planetarium, her face glowing with stars. The way her tongue poked out when she focused, sleeves rolled up, eyes sharp, and tattoo flexing. The way her hand gripped your waist during that stupid dance game, both of you laughing too hard to breathe.

You hadn’t slept together yet…not all the way, but the tension had started blooming between you in glances and lingering touches and shared hoodies, every moment a little more fragile. All of it, layered like sediment, the slow, quiet shift between friendship and whatever this had become.

Now, Ellie was lying on top of you like a human blanket, gallery prints long forgotten, the curve of her nose pressed into your chest. She was supposedly taking a break,though it had turned into her full-body flopping onto you with all the drama of someone who hadn’t slept in three days. You threaded your fingers through her hair, scratching lightly at her scalp the way you knew she liked. She let out a hum, breath slow and even against your collarbone.

“You’re supposed to be working on your gallery,” you reminded her softly, lips brushing the crown of her head.

“M’working,” she mumbled. “Just horizontally.”

“Ellie.”

She groaned into your chest. “Just five more minutes.”

“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”

“Well now I mean it.”

You smiled despite yourself, thumb brushing over her temple. Her whole body was warm and heavy and tangled with yours, one of her legs slung over both of yours, her arm wrapped lazily around your waist. She wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Ellie sighed dramatically, face still smushed into your chest. “Mmm. Don’t wanna do the gallery. Hate the gallery. Gallery sucks.”

You laughed. “You’re the one who’s been obsessing over it for weeks.”

“Yeah, but right now I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Laying on top of the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Very important.”

You rolled your eyes, heart doing the embarrassing flutter it always did when she said shit like that. You ran your fingers through her hair again, feeling her melt further into you.

There was a pause. Soft. Heavy.

Then Ellie looked up, that specific gleam in her eye that always meant trouble.

“What if we ditched this gallery prep bullshit for a little while?” she said.

You raised a brow. “And do what, exactly?”

“I dunno. Go for a drive. Kidnap a raccoon. Smoke a joint on the beach. Something not involving fluorescent lights and burn out.”

You bit your lip. Thinking about it. The clock blinked past 10 pm. The apartment was quiet. The weight of October air clung outside the windows, thick and chilly.

You sat up slightly. “Wait. Beach?”

Ellie grinned. “Beach.”

You both got up immediately, snatching your jackets and hoodies, slipping into your shoes in a rush. You grabbed your bag as Ellie tossed a blanket at you and snatched her keys before the two of you hurried out of the studio.

The windows were cracked. Your hair whipped around your face in the night wind. Ellie drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting absentmindedly on your thigh, her thumb tracing light circles over the fabric of your jeans.

She looked free, wind in her hair, face lit up by the passing headlights, radio humming low.

You couldn’t stop smiling.

The beach was mostly deserted, just the soft hum of the tide and the faraway glow of streetlights behind you. You hopped out of the truck, the sand sticking on your shoes damp beneath your feet.

Ellie tossed you her hoodie, hitting you straight to your face.

“Hey!”

“You’ll thank me later,” she grinned.

You pulled it on without protest. It smelled like her cologne, warm and familiar. “Thanks.”

“Race you to the shore!” she shouted, already kicking off her boots.

“Wait!” you laughed, fumbling with your own shoes before taking off after her. Your bag bounced against your side with every step, slipping off your shoulder as you ran, breathless and giggling as the cold air filled your lungs.

At one point, Ellie turned suddenly and knocked you off balance, wrapping her arms around you as she spun you both around. You tumbled to the ground in a heap, landing right on top of her, both of you breathless, your cheeks flushed from the cold and the rush of it all.

You turned onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow as you looked at her.

“It’s… really nice out here.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, brushing the sand from her jeans as she stood. Then she held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

You slipped your fingers into hers without hesitation, like muscle memory. Like saying yes to her had always been easy.

The two of you wandered toward the water, the waves stretching out endlessly before you.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you walked, a light breeze brushing over your skin, carrying the scent of salt and earth. Ellie’s jeans were cuffed above her ankles, feet bare, toes sinking into the wet sand beside yours.

She was quiet for a while, and you didn’t rush her. The silence was soft between you, not heavy.

Then, almost like she was thinking out loud, she said, “I think I’m burnt out.”

You glanced over, watching her eyes follow the moonlit waves. “From the gallery?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s like… the more I try to prepare, the more it feels like I’m running on empty. Like I’m squeezing everything out of myself and there’s nothing left to give.” She gave a small laugh, dry and tired. “Kinda pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic,” you said gently. “You’ve been putting your whole heart into it. That’s a lot.”

Ellie didn’t answer right away. She just kept walking.

“Maybe,” you added after a beat, “you don’t need to squeeze anything out. Maybe you just need to breathe a little. Let yourself recharge.”

She looked at you then. Really looked at you. And something in her expression softened.

“Maybe some fresh air is exactly what you needed,” you said, nudging her shoulder lightly. “Who knows—maybe the ocean brings back your inspiration.”

But her inspiration was standing right in front of her, with wide eyes and a soft smile, that same smile that reassured her from her doubts and fears, that made her believe everything was gonna be alright.

Ellie snorted. “Yeah maybe.”

You kept walking a little farther until the sand grew softer and untouched, the sound of the waves a little gentler here. Ellie paused, scanning the area before she pulled the blanket out from where it had been tucked under her arm.

She laid it down carefully, smoothing it out before sinking onto it with a sigh. You sat beside her, legs crossed, watching as she leaned back on her hands and tilted her head toward the sky.

The stars were scattered and quiet tonight. The kind you could get lost staring at without realizing how much time had passed. A breeze passed over you both, cooler now, but comforting. Ellie’s arm brushed yours as she shifted slightly to get more comfortable.

The sound of the waves filled the silence between you, steady and calming. You both had your jeans cuffed, ankles cold and damp from the water. The blanket was barely big enough for two. Your knees were touching.

Ellie was rummaging through the pocket of her jacket with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Boom.”

She held up a perfectly rolled blunt between two fingers like she was revealing a magic trick.

You blinked, then burst out laughing. “You’re gonna get me fired, you know that?”

“Please,” she scoffed, pulling out a lighter, “you can just live with me and be my muse forever. I’ll make you coffee in the mornings. Feed you clementines while you read on the couch.”

She lit the blunt, taking a painfully slow drag, and passed it to you. The smoke curled around her lips and you wanted nothing else but to press yours against hers.

“Muse salary probably sucks.”

“It does,” she admitted. “But the benefits include me and… me, and cuddling 24/7.”

“Wow. How could I resist.”

You took a hit, coughing just a little on the exhale. The haze settled slowly over your limbs, warmth spreading through your chest and cheeks. Time slipped a little sideways.

The blunt moved back and forth between you in a rhythm as natural as breathing. The stars were pinpricks above the ocean, shimmering, scattered, infinite.

Ellie leaned back on her elbows, gaze fixed on the sky. “You ever think about how the light we’re seeing from some of those stars started traveling toward us before the human brain even existed?”

You tilted your head toward her, confused, blinking slowly. “What?”

“Like… we’re looking at the past. Some of those stars could already be dead. We’re just seeing the ghost of them.”

You stared at her, momentarily forgetting about the blunt burning between your fingers.

“You’re literally the nerdiest person I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks. I try.”

The blunt burned lower in Ellie’s fingers, smoke curling around her jawline, eyes soft and half-lidded as she looked at you.

“You’re staring again.” Her voice was low and teasing but not like before. This wasn’t about calling you out. This was about pulling you in.

You didn’t look away. You didn’t even try.

“You look really pretty right now.”

Her brows raised a little, almost surprised. But she didn’t deflect it, didn’t joke it away this time. Just blinked, slowly, lips parting.

She kept going, voice soft and raspy from smoke and salt air. “And Earth moves through space at like, 67,000 miles per hour. Which means no matter what we do, even if we’re just sitting here, we’re still flying through the void. Isn’t that kind of fucked up?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at her. With her messy hair, jeans cuffed like a little boy, freckled face lit up in moonlight and awe. She looked like she belonged up there, with all the stars and the galaxies, floating above you like in a dream. And she kept gesturing toward the sky, completely unaware of the way her words made your ribs tighten.

You blinked slowly, a breath catching behind your teeth.

God. I’m really falling in love with her. Was all you could think about.

Not in the loud, crashing way. Not like the movies. No. This felt quieter. More dangerous. Like something blooming in the dark. Like the soft ache of knowing, really knowing…that if you let yourself, you’d never stop wanting her. Not just her body, not just her kisses. But her.

The way she got really quiet when she was focused. The way she always turned down the volume on her phone before coming into your apartment. How she knew the difference between your tired silence and your mad silence. How she never let your coffee go cold. The way she let you rest your head on her lap without making a big deal about it. The way she touched you like she didn’t realize she was doing it.

Something that always came back. The way she looked at you like maybe, just maybe, she already knew.

You passed the blunt back to her with a shaky hand, trying not to exhale your whole damn soul.

“You okay?” she asked, catching your eyes for a second too long.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to ground yourself. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

She smiled at you, all teeth and freckles and affection. And you were doomed.

You wanted to kiss her and tell her how far fucking gone you were, that she has already ruined you and there is no turning back. Instead, you just smiled, barely.

“You ever just… forget how good this feels?” Ellie asked quietly, her voice rough with honesty. “Like the world gets so loud, and you forget how simple it can be to just stop for a second?”

You turned your head, so you could look at her. “Yeah. I think we forget to stop because we’re scared everything will fall apart if we do.”

Her eyes flicked to yours, gentle and tired. “Yeah...”

You smiled faintly, the sound of the tide folding over itself again in the background. “Guess that’s what fresh air’s good for.”

Ellie huffed a small laugh through her nose, and without thinking, she reached for your hand in the space between you. Her fingers grazed yours before curling around them, warm and sure.

Neither of you said anything after that. You didn’t need to.

She took another drag and leaned her head back to stare at the sky. “Fuck man, I should’ve brought my camera, the view is unbelieveable,”

You sighed dramatically, then reached into your bag. “Oh, Ellie…”

She glanced over, puzzled, until you pulled out her camera and held it up triumphantly.

“No fucking way,” she laughed, sitting up straighter, her entire face lighting up. “You’re the best. Are you kidding me?”

“You think I don’t know you by now?” you said, handing it over. “I saw it sitting by your keys and figured you'd regret leaving it behind.”

She shook her head in disbelief, already adjusting the lens. “God, you’re unreal.”

You blushed, trying to play it cool, but it was impossible with the way she was looking at you—like you were some rare artifact she'd just unearthed.

Then she brought the viewfinder to her eye. “Don’t move.”

You froze. “What?”

“Stay like that,” she said, voice softer now, focused. “You look—just stay.”

The shutter clicked once. Twice. She shifted slightly, capturing you from another angle, then tilted the camera up toward the sky, the stars, the waves behind you. The sound of the shutter was rhythmic and careful, like she was trying to memorize every second.

She lowered the camera slowly, then looked at you again, really looked. The way the moonlight enhanced your features and the air blew your hair in all the right directions, like slow motion, she couldn’t hold herself back, she didn’t have to anymore.

Ellie leaned in, cupping your face in both hands, her thumbs brushing just beneath your cheekbones. Her touch was warm and steady, like she was grounding herself through you.

Then she kissed you. Firm and certain.

It wasn’t soft, not this time. It was hungry. Her lips moved against yours with purpose, urgency threading through every second. You melted into her touch instantly, your hands finding her waist and pulling her closer until there was no space left between you.

Her hand came up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, her blunt abandoned somewhere in the sand beside you. And you kissed her back like you could bury the ache under your tongue and hope she didn’t feel the way you melted against her.

She tasted like weed, salt and chapstick and something inherently her. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of her jacket, clinging to her like she was the only thing tethering you to the earth.

When you shifted, she followed, leaning into you as the kiss deepened, her hand slipping to the back of your neck, thumb still grazing your skin like she couldn’t stop touching you.

You broke apart just long enough to breathe, foreheads pressed together, your lips brushing as you smiled against her mouth.

She looked at you through half-lidded eyes, flushed and dazed. “You’re so fucking pretty,” she murmured. “It’s not fair.”

And when you finally pulled back, she didn’t move far, her forehead bumped gently against yours, eyes still closed. Neither of you said anything for a moment. You just breathed together.

“We should probably…” she whispered, voice hoarse, like she wasn’t sure where that sentence was going.

“Go home?” you offered, a little breathless, a little terrified.

Her eyes opened, hazy and low-lidded.

“Yeah. Home.”

But her fingers didn’t leave your cheek right away. And when you finally stood, brushing sand off your jeans, folding the blanket with shaking hands and adjusting your bag, you felt Ellie’s hand on your wrist.

“Wait.”

You turned just in time for her to grab your waist and hoist you up with a laugh, throwing you over her shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“Ellie!” you shrieked, kicking your legs, your fists beating half-heartedly against her back. “You’re gonna make me fall on my ass!”

“Relax,” she snorted. “I’ve got you.”

Your voice was muffled by your own laughter, face buried in the fabric of her jacket.

She finally set you down by the car, both of you breathless with laughter, your heart was still thudding from more than just the chaos. Her hand lingered at the small of your back as you climbed in, and you sat there for a second, staring out at the ocean one last time, still high from the weed and the kiss.

The car ride home was awfully quiet. But not the kind that meant nothing was happening. It was the kind of quiet that pulsed. That built up like crashing waves.

Ellie’s hand had been resting on your thigh the whole way. Her thumb traced slow, lazy circles into your skin over the fabric of your jeans, and the warmth of her touch was burning through you.

You shifted in your seat. Crossed and uncrossed your legs, then stilled, because the pressure of her hand there firm, warm, claiming, was making your brain short circuit.

The music was low. Just a beat, pulsing through the speakers. Her fingers flexed slightly against your thigh every time the bass dropped. You didn’t even know what song was playing. Neither of you said anything. But your skin was on fire, your mouth dry, and the only thing you could focus on was how badly you wanted her. Right here. Right now. And it was obvious, painfully, dangerously obvious…that she felt it too.

All you could think about was her mouth. The way she’d kissed you back on the beach. The way she tasted. The way her hand had cradled your jaw like you were precious and hers and ruinable all at once.

Your breath caught in your throat when her fingers squeezed your thigh a little, just enough. But she didn’t say anything. Just kept driving. Eyes focused on the road. Her lips parted, jaw set tight. Like she was holding herself back from something.

When she parked, neither of you moved.

A beat passed.

Then two.

And then you opened the door, heart hammering.

Ellie was behind you in a second, grabbing the blanket, your bag, the abandoned water bottle in the cupholder. And still, somehow, her hand found the small of your back as she guided you inside.

By the time she pushed open her apartment door, something had already shifted.

Because the second it clicked shut behind you…She dropped everything. Your bag hit the floor. The blanket was halfway off your arm when her hands grabbed your waist and yanked you in like she’d been starving.

Your back hit the wall with a soft thud. Her lips found yours instantly. Messy, hot, urgent.

You gasped, one hand flying to her shoulder, the other tugging at her jacket like it offended you that she was still wearing it.

The weed still in your system made everything so much more intense. Her mouth, her scent, the drag of her hands over your waist. It was like every nerve in your body had been rewired just for her.

She kissed you like she was burning up, rushed, teeth knocking, too much tongue, but somehow that just made it better. Sloppier. Desperate.

You smiled against her mouth, and her hand immediately grabbed your jaw, angling your face the way she wanted.

Your fingers dug into her shoulders, dragging her closer. “Ellie—”

“Yeah?” Her voice was ragged. Her lips brushed your jaw. Your throat. Your collarbone.

“Your room—”

You didn’t finish the sentence. Because she kissed you again, like she already knew.

You both stumbled messily toward her room, laughter and breath tangled between kisses. Ellie’s fingers tightened around your hand, grounding herself in the feeling of your skin. Her head was spinning, not just from the weed but from the fact that this was real. You were here, touching her like you needed her.

She silently thanked herself for tidying up earlier, the faint scent of cedarwood and laundry detergent curling around the space like an invitation. There were no distractions. Just you, her, and the electric charge buzzing between every touch. You kicked off your shoes without thinking, and she was already guiding you back, hands firm at your waist as she gently eased you onto the bed. Her body followed, urgent, reverent, starved—lips crashing against yours like waves meeting the shore. You didn’t hesitate. You pulled her closer. She hovered for just a beat, eyes devouring the sight of you, flushed and waiting.

No lens could ever even come close to capturing the way her eyes saw you, the glistening on your face, with your pupils dilated and lips puffy, something holy worth waking up to, like a small prayer whispered before risking everything you got.

She didn’t waste any second, she was all over you, like smoke lingering in the air after you’d shared a cigarette. Intimate. Sharing the object that had been around your lips and hers, she always inhaled a little too hard, like maybe she could taste you through the nicotine filling her lungs.

But now she could have you. In this moment, she laid on top of you, and you were looking at her with those wide, doe eyes. And right now, nothing else in this room, or in this world, mattered. You were waiting for her just as much as she had waited for you.

Your fingers grazed her collarbone, tugging slightly at the fabric of her shirt, pulling her in, as if you’d die if you didn’t taste her in this second, like your life depended on it. She reciprocated, lips hungry—slow, memorizing the crevices of your mouth, giving you entrance to her own, tongues swirling around, slow dancing together.

Ellie cupped your face, her calloused fingertips rough against your tender skin, tickling your flushed cheeks. She trailed kisses from your lips to your jaw, her mouth hot and open tingling on every spot, you sat up slightly, and Ellie took it as her cue to lower her lips to your neck, warm breath hovering the flesh of your neck, as she left open mouth kisses, like she was trying to memorize the rhythm of your pulse with her lips.

Your hands were tangled on her auburn hair, fingers pulling softly with each kiss.

A small moan slipped past your lips, you tried to cover it by snuggling your face into Ellie’s neck, but she noticed.

And oh lord—she wanted to replay that little sound for the rest of her life.

Something shifted in her. Primal. She was starving for you. She needed to cover every inch of your skin with her mouth, trace a map across your body, taking note of every sweet spot that made you squirm under her.

God she was high on you, just by kissing. Pathetic.

You pulled back to look at her again, and the look she gave you?

Fuck. It was unraveling you.

Slowly, you pressed your lips to hers again, the kiss deepened. Messy, sloppy, perfect.

Hands roamed slow and lazy, tangled in fabric and hair, fingers trailing like they had nowhere else to be. Then, suddenly, the weight shifted. You felt an arm slide beneath your back, the other steadying you both. And before you could say something , Ellie pulled you up, lifted like you weighed nothing and settled you gently into her lap. Your thighs bracketed hers now, knees sinking into the bed, your lips still locked together.

Now both of you were chasing dominance with your tongues, breathy moans and low groans spilling between kisses. Ellie's hands rested on each side of your hips, gripping the soft flesh, digging her fingers into your skin.

Meanwhile you lowered your hands down to her stomach, slipping under her shirt. Her skin was warm and soft, so soft. You traced little circles with your fingertips as your hands traveled to her back.

Ellie broke the kiss for a second, catching her breath, and when her eyes met yours, she knew—

You needed her as much as she needed you.

She gave you a small nod— permission, and you took it as a welcome sign.

You lifted her shirt slowly, as if you were giving her the chance to say something, to stop you. But she didn’t. She raised her arms letting you tug it off completely and tossed it aside. Bare freckled skin now only framed by the black sports bra she wore, muscles tensing from the shyness she suddenly felt.

She followed immediately, helping you out of your shirt, leaving you in your bra. Ellie had been waiting for this moment since that night she’d accidentally caught a glimpse through your door. The image of your bare back, the strap of your bra. It had been burned into her memory ever since.

She was so caught up in that thought, she didn’t even realize when you shifted your weight completely and she was now the one lying beneath you, with your knees caging her hips.

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat, her hands instinctively settling on your clothed thighs. You could feel her heartbeat pounding beneath your palms, a steady drum that matched your own. She looked up at you like you were a miracle. Her pupils were blown, partly from you and from the weed, lips parted, and you could see the faintest tremble in her chest as she tried to keep her breathing even.

You dipped your head, brushing your lips over hers, soft and slow. A kiss like a secret. One she’d never tell anyone else but you. You pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes—her lashes fluttered, lips chasing yours, already missing the contact.

Her hands moved, skimming up your thighs, slipping under the hem of your bra strap. Her touch was reverent, like she didn’t quite believe this was real.

“You’re so…” she whispered, voice barely there, but the rest of the sentence vanished in your mouth as you kissed her again. Deeper this time, your tongue sliding past her lips, tasting her like she was something you needed to survive.

Your hips shifted, rocking forward just slightly, and the sound Ellie made.

Fuck.

A soft, breathless whimper was enough to make your head spin.

Her fingers dug into your waist, pulling you closer, anchoring you to her. You could feel her muscles tense beneath you, her body responding to every inch of you.

“Tell me this is real,” she breathed, voice cracking around the edges, raw and so full of need it made your chest ache.

“It’s real,” you whispered against her lips. “I’m here.”

You leaned down again, trailing kisses along her jaw, down her neck, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. Ellie let out a shaky exhale, her hands sliding up your back, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine.

You smiled, teeth grazing her collarbone. Ellie groaned softly, arching into you as your kisses grew messier, more urgent, like you were trying to mark her soul with your mouth. She let you take your time, let you explore her inch by inch like she was sacred territory.

When you sat up again, her hands followed your movement. One trailing along your ribs, the other cradling your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek. The way she was looking at you then? Like you were starlight. Like she’d never let anyone else touch you the way she did.

You leaned into her touch and whispered, “You okay?”

Ellie nodded, eyes glassy, lips swollen, chest rising and falling like she’d just run a mile.

“Better than ever.” She looked completely undone, flushed cheeks, strands of hair sticking to her forehead, eyes drunk on the sight of you.

You leaned in slowly, like you were about to worship her. Your lips ghosted over hers, brushing once, twice, teasing. Cruel. And when you finally kissed her, it was all teeth and tongue, heat and hunger.

She groaned into your mouth, hands sliding up your sides and gripping your waist like she was trying to keep herself grounded to the moment. But she couldn’t, not while you were grinding down on her, slowly, hips rolling just enough to make her curse against your lips.

“Fuck—” she gasped, breaking the kiss as her head fell back into the pillow, exposing the long line of her neck.

You didn’t waste the opportunity.

You pressed your mouth to her throat, biting softly just below her jaw, then trailing your tongue over the spot like an apology. Her fingers slipped under the band of your bra, thumbs brushing over the underside of your breasts, breath coming out in shallow, desperate pants.

“You’re driving me fucking insane,�� she muttered, voice rough and broken.

You pulled back to look at her, lips wet and a little swollen, eyes hazy.

“Yeah?” you whispered, breath brushing her cheek. “What are you gonna do about it?”

That lit something in her. She sat up just enough to crash your mouths together again, teeth clashing, tongue tangling with yours in a messy, frantic kiss. One of her hands slid down, gripping your ass, pulling your body harder against her lap, hips bucking up with zero shame.

You gasped into her mouth, nails dragging down her back, and Ellie cursed again. Low, and filthy.

“Can I?” she whispered into your mouth, hands moving to unclasp your bra, her voice trembling with restraint.

You let her—let her strip you bare, skin flushed and burning. She stared for a second, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, then she leaned forward and kissed the top of your breast, slowly, her mouth trailing lower. Her tongue flicked across your nipple and your head fell back with a moan, hips grinding down on instinct, desperate for friction.

Ellie groaned when she felt it, her hands grabbing your waist and helping you move, guiding you to rock against her in slow, aching circles.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her voice wrecked. “Just like that.”

Your hands tangled in her hair, tugging with each roll of your hips. Every kiss got sloppier, every sound louder, every breath more frantic. Ellie was everywhere—mouth on your chest, hands gripping your ass, hips thrusting up into you like she couldn’t fucking help it.

You felt drunk on her—on the heat, the pressure, the want of it all. And when she looked up at you again, eyes glassy, lips slick, it was over for you.

“I need you,” you said, barely audible, but it was enough.

Her hands stilled, holding you there. “You have me.”

Ellie was already breathless beneath you, her cheeks flushed, lips kissed swollen, chest rising and falling like she’d just run for miles, but it was nothing compared to what you were about to do to her.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against hers again, slower this time. A whisper of a kiss, soft and drawn out, like you were trying to memorize the way her mouth felt…like you had all the time in the world. And you did. This was yours. She was yours.

From her lips, your mouth began its descent, trailing to the edge of her jaw, to the spot just beneath her ear that made her inhale sharply. You kissed down her neck, stopping at the hollow of her throat to leave a lingering, open-mouthed kiss there. Your tongue grazed the skin, slow and warm. She whimpered, her hand instinctively gripping the sheets.

Your kisses continued down, over the curve of her collarbone, across the center of her chest. You mouthed over the black fabric of her sports bra, feeling the way her breath hitched when your teeth grazed her nipple through the fabric.

“Fuck,” she whispered, squirming slightly beneath you. “You’re—teasing.”

You didn’t say anything. You just smiled against her skin and kept going.

You pressed soft kisses down her stomach. Pausing just above her belly button, letting your breath tickle her skin. Every inch you touched left her gasping, her muscles twitching under your mouth. You looked up at her then, eyes locking with hers. She was already gone. Lips parted, gaze completely fixated on you.

Still not breaking eye contact, you reached the waistband of her pants. Your fingers toyed with the button, and you watched her nod without saying a word.

You undid them slowly, dragging them down her legs, eyes never leaving hers. She lifted her hips to help you, the soft hiss that left her lips making your thighs clench. You peeled them off, tossing them aside, leaving her in nothing but her dark boxers. The sight in front of you left you in awe, legs trembling, laid out just for you was enough to make your core ache.

But you weren’t done yet.

You leaned in again, kissing along the sharp lines of her hips. One side, then the other. Slowly. Warmly. Her hands fisted the sheets, a sharp gasp escaping her lips when you mouthed at the sensitive skin right at the waistband, trailing down to place an open mouth kiss to the wet spot of her boxers. You looked up again—still holding her gaze, and hooked your fingers into the fabric.

“Okay?” you murmured.

She nodded quickly. “Yes. Fuck—please.”

Still keeping your eyes locked with hers, you reached for the waistband of her boxers and pulled them down, slow and careful, exposing her inch by inch. Ellie lifted her hips again, obedient and trembling, and you slid them down until she was bare in front of you.

You could’ve stopped just to stare. Her thighs were slightly parted, her breathing ragged, her tattoo curling along her forearm as she gripped the sheets. She looked like she could cry just from the anticipation.

You settled between her legs and let your fingers slide through her folds, wet, warm, already soaked. She gasped, hips jerking slightly.

“This all for me?” you asked, fingers teasing but not entering.

“Shut up,” she rasped, her voice thin, wrecked. “You know it is.”

You smirked, leaned in, and kissed her hip again, just to be cruel. Then, slowly, you pushed two fingers into her.

The way her mouth dropped open, the way her brows pinched like it physically hurt to feel this good, you never wanted to forget it. You curled your fingers just slightly, hitting the spot that made her whimper.

You kept your eyes on hers, and when her lips parted in another moan, you leaned in close, your voice a whisper. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

Ellie looked ruined with her hair spread across the pillow, hand covering her mouth now, trying to quiet the sounds that kept spilling out of her. But she couldn’t stop them. Not when you were fucking her this slow, this deep, your palm pressing against her clit with each thrust.

“Don’t hide,” you murmured. “I wanna hear you.”

You fucked her slow, deliberate, dragging your fingers in and out while your thumb circled her clit. Her hips moved with yours, chasing the friction, her thighs twitching with every movement.

“God—fuck, that’s it—don’t stop,” she breathed. Her voice was high, strained, like she was barely holding it together.

You sped up just slightly, enough to make her cry out. Her hands clutched your forearms now, nails digging leaving half crescent moons in your skin. She moaned again. Loud, desperate, and you knew she was close.

“Come on, Els,” you whispered. And somehow that made her walls clench harder against your fingers, pulsating with every thrust.You started speeding up, hitting just the right angle, her back arched and she choked on your name.

“I’m—fucking—fuck—” Her whole body tensed, then shattered. Back arching off the bed, head thrown back, a moan breaking open in her chest. You leaned in, kissing her as she came, swallowing her moans, keeping your rhythm until she was trembling beneath you. You only pulled out once her body stopped twitching. Then, with your eyes never leaving hers, you slipped your fingers into your mouth and licked them clean, savoring her orgasm

You grinned as you dragged your fingers out with that small “pop”.

Ellie choked on a gasp, eyes wide, pupils blown.

She didn’t waste a second.

After your little display and those fucking eyes locked on hers while you tasted her off your fingers…Ellie snapped. She rolled you onto your back like a rag doll, with a roughness that wasn’t aggressive, just desperate. Her mouth was on yours immediately, hands framing your jaw, tongue sliding in as if she couldn’t get deep enough.

“Mine,” she murmured, almost to herself, between kisses. “You’re fucking mine.”

Ellie hovered over you, flushed and breathing hard, her skin glistening, her eyes blown wide with lust and awe and something deeper—something that cracked you open just by looking at you like that. You were still panting from making her come apart on your fingers, but that didn’t stop her from slipping her hands under your thighs and flipping you onto your back, her mouth crashing against yours in a hungry, lingering kiss that tasted like heat and desperation.

“You think I’m gonna let you get away with that?” she rasped against your lips, her voice low and breathless. “No fucking way–”

Your breath caught. Your legs instinctively parted around her hips, your hands clutching at her arms, the muscles flexing beneath your fingers. Ellie leaned in, pressing kisses to your jaw, then your throat, open-mouthed and wet, letting her tongue drag along the curve of your neck.

You arched into her instinctively when her lips brushed your collarbone, then went lower. She kissed between your breasts, and you felt the cool air and her hot, roaming gaze, addicting.

“So pretty,” she murmured, her voice gone thick. “Fucking perfect.”

She wrapped her lips around one of your nipples, sucking slowly, letting her tongue flick over it before biting down just enough to make you gasp. Her hand came up to play with the other, thumb circling, pinching, teasing, until you were whining, thighs rubbing together beneath her.

And she wasn’t even close to done.

She switched sides, kissing the curve of your breast before giving the same treatment to the other nipple, slower this time, messier. Her teeth grazed your skin, and then she trailed lower…tongue dragging down your ribs, over your stomach, leaving tiny wet patches and hot breath in her wake.

But she didn’t rush. She took her time, leaving small hickeys on your chest, just above your heart, another on the soft swell beneath your breast, and one lower, just to the side of your belly button. She wanted to mark you, and she wanted you to feel it every time your shirt brushed against those spots later.

By the time she reached the waistband of your jeans, you were trembling.

She looked up at you from between your thighs, and fucking hell you could’ve just cummed at the sight of her beautiful green eyes looking at you like that, all desperate and needy, hands sliding to your hips.

“Still ok?” she smirked.

You could barely form words. Just a breathless, desperate nod.

She undid your jeans slowly, dragging the zipper down with purpose, fingers teasing at the waistband as she leaned in to kiss your lower belly, just above the fabric. You lifted your hips so she could tug them down, and she did—carefully, kissing every new inch of exposed skin. Your thighs, your inner knees, the dip just above your underwear. You were soaked already, and Ellie saw it, smelled it, her breath hitching.

“Fuck, look at you.”

She pressed a single kiss to the front of your panties, right over your clit. You whimpered, bucked into her mouth, and she just chuckled low, mouthing at the wet fabric. Her tongue dragged over it once, then again, leaving it wetter with her spit. Then she sucked at it, lightly, then harder right through the cloth, until you were gasping, your hips twitching beneath her grip.

“Tastes so fucking good, even through this.”

She hooked her fingers in the waistband and tugged them off in one smooth motion, tossing them aside without looking. Then she kissed your thigh again, and again, and again, until you were practically begging.

Then finally—finally, she spread you open with both hands and dove in.

Her tongue flattened against your pussy and dragged up in one slow, singular motion, like she wanted to study your body with her mouth. She moaned into you at the taste, low and guttural. Like it relieved something inside her. Her tongue flicked against your clit, soft and rhythmic, then she pulled back just long enough to spit on it, watching the mess drip and smear as she dove back in.

Your head fell back against the pillow.

“Ellie—fuck—”

She hummed again, arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you still, her face buried so deep you could feel her breath inside you. Her tongue teased your entrance, then pressed inside you, slow and firm, while the tip of her nose rubbed against your clit with every movement. Hitting just the right angle.

You gripped her hair hard, really hard. And she just groaned into your pussy like it made her wetter, grinding her own hips into the mattress while she fucked you stupid with her tongue and sucked your clit in between.

The tension coiled fast and hard in your stomach, your thighs beginning to tremble. Ellie felt it. And added two fingers without warning, curling them up just right, and doubled down with her tongue until you broke, cumming hard with a growly cry, hips jerking on her face, your hands pulling her impossibly closer.

But Ellie didn’t stop.

She didn’t even slow down.

She fucked you through it, licking up every drop, moaning into you like she’d drown there happily.

When she finally pulled back, her chin and lips were shining. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, breathing heavy, pupils dark and starving. Then she crawled up your body and kissed you, deep and messy, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

“Didn’t get enough,” she panted against your lips. “Need you again.”

You felt her hips roll down into yours, and then again, more intentional, needy. You looked down.

She was already grinding against you, bare now, both of your slick combining. Your thighs instinctively spread wider, and Ellie settled between them, her cunt sliding against yours, hot and sticky and so fucking wet.

You gasped. “Oh my God—”

The friction was instant. The way your clits brushed together made you both cry out. She grabbed your thigh, threw it over her hip, angling you just right. Then she started to move, grinding slow and deep, her forehead pressed against yours, her breath stuttering every time your bodies slipped perfectly together.

“Feels so fucking good,” she groaned. “Shit—you’re perfect—”

You couldn’t even respond. You were too caught up in it. In the slippery, desperate rub of her cunt on yours, the raw eye contact, the sweat and tension and whimpers she couldn’t hold back.

Your hands clutched her back, your legs wrapped around her waist, and you met every grind with one of your own. You were soaked, overstimulated, and yet completely insatiable.

Ellie’s voice cracked as she picked up the pace, her hips stuttering, her sounds getting louder, higher.

“You gonna come again with me?” she begged, voice strained. “Please—fuck. I wanna feel you come on me.”

You nodded frantically. You could already feel it, your second orgasm, rolling in fast. Your muscles tensed, your thighs clenched around her, and then—

You both came.

Harder than before. Together.

Her body collapsed onto yours, her face buried in your neck, both of you shaking and soaked and breathless.

The room is quiet, save for the low hum of the fan in the corner and the echo of your breaths slowly syncing again. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and skin, heat still clinging to both of you, but you’re not in a rush to pull away.

Ellie’s lying on her back, arm stretched out, inviting, and you settle into her side without thinking, thigh slung over her hip, your chest rising and falling against hers. Her skin is still warm. Damp in places. You let your fingers wander on her skin, tracing the soft, faded scars scattered across her stomach.

She doesn’t flinch.

Instead, her hand finds your waist, and she’s holding onto you like she needs the reassurance that you’re real. That you’re still here.

Your fingertip drags in slow circles, skimming across her ribs, then trailing down again, stopping to gently trace the outline of a small mark near her navel. You wonder where she got it. If it hurt. If she ever thought to tell you.

Still, neither of you says anything. You shift slightly, arm draped across her middle now, and your other hand finds her forearm, the ink there familiar beneath your touch. You trace the edge of her tattoo, carefully, like you’re memorizing it with your skin.

Ellie’s breathing deepens. You feel it in the way her chest rises under your cheek, the way her thumb starts brushing gentle lines across the bare of your back.

And then, softly, almost like a thought slipping out by accident, she finally speaks.

“You are the most beautiful girl on this planet—” A pause. A breath. “No. This universe.”

You scoff, letting your lips curve into a smirk against her skin.

“Pffft—You say that to every girl you sleep with?” you mumble, teasing, but your voice comes out quieter than you meant. Too full of feeling.

Ellie huffs a laugh, but you feel the shift in her body. She’s still smiling, but there’s something quieter behind it, more serious. Something heavy in her chest that she doesn’t quite let out yet.

“No girl has gotten lucky enough.”

You lift your head, just slightly, eyes meeting hers.

She’s not grinning. Not smirking.

She’s looking at you like she wants to kiss you all over again, but not in a way that’s messy or frantic or lustful.

She’s just there. Staring. Open. Soft.

And you don’t say anything back.

You just curl into her again, one hand resting on her chest where her heart is beating like a marching band, the rhythm of her palpitations calms you down. And she lets you stay there. Quiet. Wrapped in each other like neither of you know how to ask for more. Even though it’s already written all over your skin.

Sunlight slips lazily through the slats in the blinds, casting pale golden stripes across the tangled sheets. Ellie stirs, arm reaching out instinctively to the other side of the bed, but it’s empty now. Still warm, just barely. She blinks groggily, eyes adjusting to the morning light, her limbs heavy with sleep and muscle ache.

There’s a second where panic flickers through her.

Did you leave? Was everything just a dream?

But then she smells you on her pillow. Faint traces of your shampoo, your skin, your sweat from the night before, and the corner of her mouth tugs upward, soft and slow.

She turns her head and sees it.

A little piece of paper on her desk, scrawled in your handwriting.

“Headed to work. U looked too cute to wake up. Pass by the diner if ur not busy ;)”

Ellie stares at it for a minute, then flips onto her back, one arm thrown over her eyes as a smile overtakes her entire face. It’s the kind of smile she couldn’t hide even if she tried.

Stupid. Giddy. Lightheaded.

You.

Her mind plays it all back in bits, your mouth, your hands, your body pressed to hers like it had always belonged there. The way you looked at her like you were afraid to blink and miss her. The way you touched her, so safe and sure, like you were tracing art into her skin.

And now you were just… gone.

Gone, but not far.

Her eyes flutter open again. The note’s still there. The sheets are still messy. Her chest still feels full in that unfamiliar, aching way. She sighs, long and dreamy, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

When she finally sat up, her hair was a mess, body sore in the best way. The note is still clutched between her fingers, and she reads it once more for no reason other than the way it makes her stomach flip.

She stretches, smiling like an idiot, already thinking about what she’ll say when she sees you again. Already wondering how she’s supposed to act around you now. Already imagining the way your face lights up when she walks into the diner.

Had she mentioned how irrevocably fucked she was? So completely, irreversibly, stupidly fucked for you.

How she felt like she dug a grave for herself, how this would either be the best thing ever or the worst heartbreak of her entire fucking life. And she didn’t wanna think about it, because she’s scared as shit.

She’s scared of herself more than anyone.

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

taglist ♡‧₊˚₊✧

@liasxeatt @80saturn @eleanorsghost @youusunshineyoutemptress @jazzyxox @lesoulew @fangirlinc @hitmehardmommy @liztreez @chwekriz00 @vahnilla @elliespotion @haithone @stwolfhardimaginez @thxtmarvelchick @purinukie @lavenderseedling @elliesfavwife @mikellie @iadorefineshyt @thebadwritersposts @gayandsuffering26 @flynnph0bias @adoreasellie @wwefan2002 @pinkcloudsmmr @ellliewilliamssgf @hufflepuffin92-blog @madsxh1022 @elliepoems @finnthehumanjakethedog @oneinameliann @sulliefimmie @lunshimmer @theangelwaltz @morticeras @elliessavagestarlight @ssijht @oatmatchalatte @sunflowerwinds

[kuronarnze]

a/n: hihiii, idk why but ive been liking to write for sae sm lately, im actually supposed to be studying since im having finals, but here i am.. writing a oneshot.. enjoyy the oneshot!!

Itoshi Sae x Reader !

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

In Case You Didn’t Notice

You were just being nice.

Just laughing at his joke, brushing lint off his shoulder, leaning your head on his arm like it meant nothing.

But to Itoshi Sae?

It meant everything.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Exhibit A:

The time you texted him “good luck” before a match.

You: "Good luck today! :D"

Sae: smiles at phone for 3 full minutes

Also Sae: saves the message to his favorites like it’s national treasure

Rin: “You’re gross.”

Sae: “Shut up.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Exhibit B:

Your voice message from 2 weeks ago.

You: “AHH I just saw a cat wearing a sweater Sae you would’ve DIED it looked like you 😭”

Sae: has replayed it 14 times and counting

Also Sae: accidentally made it his alarm tone

(He hasn’t changed it.)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The problem is, you’re not doing this on purpose.

You’re just friendly. Warm. Effortlessly funny. The kind of person who remembers Sae’s coffee order and the fact that he doesn’t like french fries.

You’ve been best friends for three years now. And Sae is utterly, hopelessly in love with you.

You laugh at his sarcasm.

You poke fun at his grumpiness.

You ruffle his hair when he wins and pull him into hugs like it’s nothing.

It is, in fact, everything to him.

And the worst part?

You have no idea.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Why are you frowning?” you ask one day, leaning against him on his couch.

Sae’s wearing a hoodie that suspiciously looks like yours. He says nothing about it. Just shrugs.

“Not frowning,” he mutters, eyes glued to the TV.

You giggle. “Liar.”

His heart explodes.

He turns to you, and for one second—just one—he thinks about telling you. About all of it.

That every version of his future includes you.

That even your silence is his favorite sound.

That he’s in love with his best friend.

But he just says:

“Wanna stay over?”

You blink. “Oh! Yeah. Sure.”

He nods, like it’s casual. Like he didn’t just spend the entire week hoping you’d say yes.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Meanwhile, Rin is suffering. (Uhm guys so rin is kinda ooc here since i wanted to try writing frustrated rin)

“You are the biggest coward I’ve ever met,” he tells Sae the next day at training.

“I’m being patient,” Sae says, dribbling past him with ease.

“You’re being pathetic.”

Sae shrugs.

“They’re literally in love with you, idiot.”

“I know.”

Rin trips on air. “THEN SAY SOMETHING!”

Sae stares at the goal. Then glances at his phone. Your name is at the top of his recent calls. You called him last night just to say goodnight. Just because.

He smiles (YES HE SMILED. Itoshi sae smiled.)

“Soon.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Meanwhile, You.

You are in denial.

“There’s no way Sae likes me,” you whisper to your friend.

“...Are you okay?” they ask. “You literally wear his hoodie like it’s your job.”

You: “It’s comfy!!”

Them: “He buys you snacks he doesn’t buy anyone else.”

You: “That’s just… nutrition-based friendship!”

Them: “He let you nap on his lap for two hours.”

You: “Bro he’s just soft underneath the arrogance.”

They stare.

“You’re so far gone,” they say.

“I know,” you groan, covering your face. “And I can’t stop liking him.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You don’t know how it happens. One moment you're watching anime on his couch, the next moment you're laughing so hard you fall right on top of him.

And you freeze.

Chest against his.

Face a breath away.

His hand on your waist.

Sae doesn’t move.

His eyes flicker to your lips.

Then your eyes.

Then your lips again.

“…Hey,” he says, voice low.

You can barely breathe. “Y-Yeah?”

“You ever think about kissing your best friend?”

Your heart slams into your ribs. “Maybe.”

He blinks. “...Really?”

You swallow. “Do you?”

He doesn't answer.

He just leans in and kisses you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

When you pull back, your fingers are twisted in his hoodie.

“You like me,” you whisper.

He sighs. “Took you long enough.”

You punch his shoulder. “You’re so annoying.”

“Still like me though?”

You roll your eyes and kiss him again.

Rin, somewhere in the distance, senses peace returning to the universe.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Rin's pov !!

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Sae's notes app !

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

HSOSHSOSHOEJSOSIESOOSDI tbh im obsessed with this oneshot HAHAHAHA tysm for readinggg !

THIS WAS MY FIRST TIME USING SMAUS AND OHMYGOSH I WAS HAVING A HARD TIME GETTING THE TEXTS ALL TOGETHER 😭

sosorry if there are any mistakes !!

dedicated to my bbg @yoonlyhan hi! Look its your man sae ���� tysm for the kurona oneshot sjsjsjsjjsjskaosos i love the way you wrote kurona ranze 💗💗

Have a nice day 🫶

[alohajix]

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬

Description: when I show up at his door with a college essay and a short skirt, I tell myself it’s just for feedback. But Mr. Styles isn’t my teacher anymore—and the moment his hands find my skin, it’s clear we’re both done pretending.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, strong language, age gap (18 & 35), power imbalance, praise kink, edging, rough sex, hair pulling, light spanking, oral sex (f & m receiving), mirror sex, dirty talk & aftercare. Readers +18.

Words: ~7K.

don't forget about the taglist guys 🔥

requests are open; if you want me to write about something specific, feel free to ask 🫶🏻

*****

I shouldn’t be here. That’s the first thought I have when I step out of the car and onto the quiet suburban street. His house is tucked into the corner lot like it belongs in a magazine—clean lines, tall windows, dark wood paneling. Too perfect. Too intentional. Like him.

I don’t know what I expected. But I didn’t expect to feel this… nervous. The manila folder clutched in my hand is damp from the sweat of my palm. It holds my college essay, which I told myself was the reason for this visit. But even I know that’s a lie. I came here for him. For the man I spent all of senior year stealing glances at. The one I used to fantasize about while pretending I was too focused on Shakespeare to notice the way he rolled his sleeves up or leaned against the edge of his desk.

He never touched me. Never looked at me like that. But something simmered in the space between us. Something unspoken. And now? Now I’m not his student anymore.

I take a breath and ring the doorbell. The door swings open almost immediately. He fills the frame like he owns it—barefoot in dark slacks and a white button-up with the top two buttons undone. His sleeves are rolled, his hair longer than I remember, curling around his temples and behind his ears. He looks older. Sharper. Softer in the eyes, harder everywhere else.

“Hey, trouble.” His voice still has that quiet rasp, smooth and teasing.

My stomach flutters.

“Hi,” I say, a little too breathy. “Hope I’m not too early.”

“Not at all.” His mouth tips up at the corner. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

I smile like this is normal. Like I haven’t been replaying this moment in my head since I messaged him last week asking if he’d read over my essay. He said yes within minutes. Gave me his address and told me to stop by Saturday afternoon. And here I am—dressed in the only outfit that made me feel halfway confident. A soft white tank that hugs the shape of my chest. A dark skirt that hits mid-thigh. He looks at both. Doesn’t hide it.

“I figured I’d stop by and torture you one last time,” I joke.

His brow lifts. “One last time? Sounds like a threat.”

“Or a promise.”

He huffs a low laugh and steps back. “Come in.”

His house smells like cedarwood and clean laundry. It’s open, warm-toned, lived in. No photos on the wall. Just books. Lots of books. Stacked on shelves, under tables, on window sills. I pretend not to be impressed and sit where he gestures—on the couch near the fireplace.

“You want coffee?” he asks, heading toward the kitchen.

“Still drink it black,” I say without thinking.

He glances over his shoulder. “Still remember that?”

“You used to tease me for it.”

“I teased you for a lot of things.” Something in the way he says it makes my breath catch.

He disappears for a moment, and I take the opportunity to look around. The place feels like him—intellectual, quiet, a little mysterious. Like there are layers I’ve never seen. Like maybe I wasn’t wrong about what I thought I felt back then.

He returns with two mugs and hands me one. When he sits down beside me, I notice how close he is. His knee bumps mine. He doesn’t shift away. His cologne wraps around me—spiced, woody, something masculine and soft all at once. He smells like temptation.

“So,” he says, nodding to the folder in my lap. “What literary confession am I about to read?”

I hand it over, trying not to fidget. “It’s open-ended. I panicked and wrote about how literature helped me survive high school. And I might’ve mentioned you.”

He raises an eyebrow but says nothing, flipping it open and beginning to read. The silence stretches. He reads with the kind of focus that used to make my skin itch in the classroom—total, intent, like every word matters. His brow furrows slightly. His thumb rubs the corner of the page as he flips it. I stare at that thumb for too long. When he gets to the third page, he pauses.

“You wrote about The Great Gatsby.”

I nod. “Yeah. You stopped reading that day and asked the class why sadness sounds beautiful when it’s written well.”

His eyes don’t leave the page. “I remember.”

“You said sometimes pain is the only thing that feels honest.”

“I did.”

Silence settles between us again, heavier this time. He closes the folder, sets it on the coffee table.

“You always listened more than the others,” he says.

I shrug. “You always said things that were worth hearing.”

He glances sideways. “You really think so?”

“I wrote a whole essay about it.”

He leans back, one arm stretched along the back of the couch. His fingers graze my shoulder. My pulse skips.

“You look different,” he murmurs. “Grown.”

I glance at him, trying to read the expression on his face. “So do you.”

“Yeah?”

“You used to wear those tweed jackets. The elbow patch kind. Very ‘English professor with a tragic backstory.’”

He laughs. The sound is low and honest and hits me straight in the chest. “God, those jackets were hideous.”

“And now you look like…” I trail off, embarrassed. “Someone who probably writes poetry and breaks hearts for fun.”

He’s watching me too closely now.

“You always were good with words,” he says.

My throat dries. “So were you.”

His eyes flick down. My tank top. The way I’m sitting—ankle hooked over my knee, skirt riding up slightly. His gaze lingers, and this time, he doesn’t look away.

“Shouldn’t be looking at you like that,” he murmurs.

“But you are.”

He turns his head slowly to face me. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“But I am.”

“I should’ve said no.”

“But you didn’t.” Silence.

The air between us pulses. He leans forward slightly, just enough to make my heart race.

“What is it you’re really here for?” he asks. “Because we both know it’s not the essay.”

I swallow hard. My voice shakes. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

He shifts closer. I can feel the heat of his body now. His voice is lower. Rougher.

“You came here wearing that skirt. You knew what it would do to me.”

“I didn’t think—”

“Yes, you did. You’ve always known exactly what you’re doing.” I can’t breathe. “You used to stay after class just to get under my skin,” he says. “Asked questions you already knew the answers to. Sat in the front row like you weren’t the biggest distraction in the room.”

I shake my head, dizzy. “I thought I imagined it.”

He smirks. “You didn’t.” A beat passes. My skin tingles.

His hand reaches up—slow, deliberate—and brushes a loose strand of hair from my face. His fingers trail down, brushing my jaw, then stopping at my chin. He tilts my face toward his.

“I’m giving you one chance to leave,” he says quietly. “Right now. If you stay, I won’t be able to stop. I’ve wanted you too long to pretend anymore.”

I look at him—really look at him. His eyes aren’t teasing anymore. They’re dark. Serious. Wanting.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Say it,” he breathes.

“I want you.” That’s it. That’s the moment everything tilts.

His jaw clenches. His thumb brushes my lower lip. His eyes drop to my mouth, then my chest. Then he leans in so close I can feel the whisper of his breath. But he doesn’t kiss me. Not yet. His mouth brushes mine. Once. Barely there. A breath of a kiss that’s more threat than touch. My heart stumbles, tripping over the moment—over the heat radiating from his body, over the pressure in his fingers where they still rest under my jaw.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he whispers, voice so low I feel it in my stomach. “You know that, don’t you?” I nod. I don’t even blink. His lips ghost against mine again. “Say it.”

“I want you to.” And then he’s on me. Not soft. Not gentle. Just pure, hungry need.

His hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me into the kiss like he’s been starving for it. His other hand grabs my thigh, yanking me toward him on the couch. I gasp against his mouth as my legs fall apart instinctively, one slung over his lap, the other bent awkwardly beneath me. The kiss deepens—tongue, teeth, a low groan that rumbles in his chest. His hand slides beneath my tank top, fingers dragging up my side until he cups my breast over my bra. His thumb brushes my nipple, and I moan into his mouth.

“I knew you’d be loud,” he mutters.

“You don’t know anything yet.”

He pulls back with a wicked grin. “No?”

Then he lifts my shirt. I suck in a breath as he drags the soft cotton up and over my head, eyes fixed on my chest. My bra is thin. Barely there. His gaze darkens.

“Off,” he says simply.

I reach behind me, unhook it, and let the straps fall from my shoulders. The sound he makes isn’t human. His hands come up, palms wide, rough and warm, as he cups both breasts in his hands and leans forward to mouth at one, then the other. His lips wrap around my nipple, sucking hard until I cry out, then he licks it to soothe the sting.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groans. “So soft. So fucking pretty.”

My back arches into his mouth, hands gripping his shoulders. When he finally pulls back, my chest is wet and tingling and hot. He doesn’t give me a second to recover. He reaches down and grabs my thighs, pulling me to straddle him. My skirt rides up over my hips. His hands slide up under the hem, gripping my ass hard.

“You’ve been teasing me since you walked in here,” he growls. “You knew exactly what this would do to me.”

I grind down against him, already feeling the thick length of him beneath his slacks.

“I was hoping.”

“You’re gonna pay for that, sweetheart.”

He kisses me again, messier this time. His hands move to the front of my skirt, fingers finding the waistband of my panties. He tugs them down my hips, then slides a hand between my thighs. He groans against my mouth.

“Already soaked,” he whispers. “Dripping. Fuck.”

His middle finger slides through the wetness, finding my clit and pressing there, circling. My hips jerk, and I whimper.

“You like that?” he mutters. “You like me touching you like this?”

“Yes—please—”

“You sound so fucking sweet when you beg.”

He slides one finger inside me, then two. Slow at first. Deep.

“Oh my god—Harry—”

“That’s it. Say my name.”

His fingers curl, and I cry out. My nails dig into his shoulder. He moves faster, thumb back on my clit, relentless and focused. It doesn’t take long. I’m already close, already teetering— And then he stops.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls, yanking his hand back. “Not yet.”

I whimper, grinding down helplessly. He holds me still.

“You don’t come until I say so. Got it?” I nod. My whole body is shaking. My thighs are slick. My panties are long gone. “Good girl.”

He shifts suddenly, lifting me off him and standing. He pulls his shirt over his head in one swift motion. I stare at his chest—tattoos and soft muscle and skin I’ve only dreamed about. Then his fingers go to his belt. He undoes it slowly, watching me the entire time.

“You ever been fucked like this before?” he asks, pulling the leather free with a snap. I can’t speak. I just shake my head. He smirks. “Good.”

His pants drop, and then he’s stepping out of them, standing in front of me in nothing but black briefs that do nothing to hide how hard he is. My eyes drop instinctively, and my stomach flips.

“You want a taste?” he asks. I nod. “On your knees.”

I slide off the couch, palms hitting the hardwood. He steps closer. I look up at him, heart pounding, and then he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his briefs and pulls them down. My breath catches. He’s thick, long, flushed at the tip. Veins trail up the shaft. It’s intimidating—but all I want is to have him in my mouth. He strokes himself once. Twice.

“Open.” I do. “Good fucking girl.”

He slides the tip past my lips, groaning low in his throat. I wrap my hand around the base and suck him slowly, working inch after inch into my mouth. He’s big. Too big to take all at once, but I try. His fingers slide into my hair.

“Look at you,” he mutters. “Taking me so well. That mouth—fuck.” I hum around him, dragging my tongue along the underside. He twitches against my tongue, and I feel him pull out slowly. “Couch,” he rasps. “Now. Face down, ass up.”

I scramble back into position. My knees hit the cushions, chest pressed to the backrest. I feel him behind me, hands on my hips, dragging me back into place.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.

“I need you.”

“You’ll get me.”

He teases me first—rubbing the head of his cock through my folds, smearing wetness along my slit. I moan. And then, without warning, he thrusts into me. I cry out—loud, raw, shocked at how deep he is. He fills me completely.

“Jesus,” he growls. “You’re so fucking tight.” He stills, buried to the hilt. “Take a breath, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

I whimper, clenching around him, and he groans again.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven.” Then he moves.

He pulls out slow, then slams back in, hard. I scream. His hands grip my hips tight, holding me in place as he begins to fuck me in earnest. The couch creaks beneath us. My skin slaps against his with every thrust.

“Listen to that,” he grunts. “You hear how wet you are for me?”

“Yes—Harry—oh my god—”

He leans forward, one hand sliding up my back to my neck. He grabs a fistful of hair, yanks me upright until I’m arching back against him.

“Look at yourself.”

I open my eyes and see us in the wall-length mirror across the room. He’s behind me—glowing with sweat, eyes dark, mouth parted. My body bounces with every thrust, breasts jiggling, mouth open, completely wrecked.

“You see that?” he pants. “That’s mine now.”

“Yours—yours—please—”

“You wanna come?”

“Yes—please, please—”

“Beg for it.”

“Please let me come. I need it, I—I can’t—”

“Good girl.”

He thrusts harder, hand sliding back down to my clit. One tight circle and I fall apart. It hits like a wave—white-hot, unstoppable, all-consuming. My body clenches around him, and I scream. He groans loudly, thrusts once more, and spills inside me with a guttural moan.

We collapse. He falls over me, breath hot on my back, heart pounding against my skin. We stay like that for a long time—pressed together, bodies slick, breath tangled. When he finally pulls out, I wince.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “You okay?” I nod.

He scoops me up—literally carries me—into the bathroom. He sits me on the edge of the counter and turns on the faucet, dampening a cloth with warm water. He cleans me slowly, gently. Kisses the inside of my thigh. My knee. My collarbone. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t treat me like a mistake. When he’s done, he wraps me in a towel and pulls me into his lap on the couch. I tuck my face into his neck. His hand strokes my back.

“You really just came here for an essay?” he asks, teasing.

“Maybe I wanted… private lessons.”

He chuckles softly. “Lesson one: don’t wear skirts like that if you want to behave.”

“Who says I wanted to behave?”

He pulls back just enough to look at me, a smirk curling at his lips.

“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.”

“Too late.”

His fingers trail lazily down my spine. I’m curled up on his lap, wrapped in one of his towels, skin flushed and tingling and exhausted in the best possible way. My thighs ache. My mouth is swollen. My body feels like it’s been dragged through a storm and rebuilt softer. He smells like sweat and clean skin and something warm I want to memorize.

Neither of us speaks for a while. There’s no pressure to. His hand just keeps moving—fingertips ghosting over my back, through my hair, along the ridge of my shoulder.

“You okay?” he murmurs eventually, voice low and rough against my temple.

I nod into his neck. “Mmhmm.”

“Still with me?”

“Barely,” I say, and he chuckles.

“That good, huh?”

I shift just enough to peek up at him. His hair is a mess. His lips are red. There’s a faint mark on his collarbone where I bit him by accident. He looks… different. Softer. Proud. Like he just did something sacred.

“You exceeded expectations,” I whisper.

“That’s a relief,” he says dryly. “Thought maybe I was out of practice.”

I roll my eyes and nestle back in. His fingers sweep my hair to one side and press a kiss to my shoulder. My skin buzzes under the weight of it.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks after a pause.

I take a breath. “That I’ve never done anything like that. Not like this.”

“Like what?”

“Where it didn’t feel like just sex.” He stills slightly beneath me.

“Wasn’t just sex,” he says finally. “Not for me.” My stomach does something stupid and slow.

We sit in it for a moment—whatever this is. I don’t know what it means. I don’t care right now. I just want to stay here.

“Also,” I mumble, “I can’t feel my legs.”

His hand slips under the towel to rest on my thigh. “Want me to rub them?”

“Only if you’re trying to start something again.”

He shifts, and suddenly I’m on my back again, towel slipping down to reveal my chest. His eyes darken as they rake over me.

“I always want to start something again,” he murmurs.

I grin. “Insatiable.”

He leans over me, one hand braced beside my head, the other tracing a line from my breast to my hip.

“You know how hard it was back then?” he asks, voice low. “Trying to act like you weren’t driving me mad?”

I blink. “Wait—back then?” He nods slowly.

“I never crossed a line. I never would’ve. But every time you stayed after class… every time you looked at me like you knew…”

“I did know,” I whisper. “I just didn’t think you’d ever admit it.”

He dips down and presses a kiss to my collarbone. Then another, lower.

“I told myself I’d forget you after graduation.”

“Didn’t work?”

“Clearly not.” He kisses between my breasts. “Every time I ran into your name in the gradebook, I remembered your handwriting. The way you used to twirl your pen when you were nervous. The way you’d go quiet when something hit too deep.” His hand slides between my legs. “I remembered wondering what your voice would sound like when you begged.”

My breath catches. “You remember it now?”

He looks up at me from between my thighs, mouth hovering.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says. “I’ll never forget it.”

He leans in and licks a slow stripe through my folds. I gasp—sharp and high-pitched. My body’s still sensitive. Too sensitive. But he doesn’t stop. He spreads my thighs, kisses the inside of each, and starts again.

“Harry—oh god—”

“You’re already shaking.”

“I—can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

He pushes two fingers inside me, slow but deep. His tongue flicks my clit with soft, relentless pressure, and my hands fly to his curls, tugging hard.

“You’re gonna come again,” he murmurs. “Right on my mouth. Want to taste all of you this time.”

I’m already spiraling. My thighs shake. My hips lift. The pleasure builds fast, sharp, all-consuming— And then I fall apart. It hits different this time. Slower. Deeper. Like falling into something warm and heavy and endless. I cry out his name, sobbing against the towel beneath me. He doesn’t stop until I push weakly at his shoulders.

When he finally pulls back, he kisses my knee and crawls up beside me, brushing sweaty hair from my forehead.

“Still with me?” he teases.

“Barely.”

He grins and kisses me—slow, messy, soft. I taste myself on his tongue and moan into his mouth. When he pulls away, he grabs a blanket from the back of the couch and wraps it around both of us, tugging me into his chest. We stay there. Breathing. Drifting. I’m not sure how much time passes.

Then I hear him say quietly, “You don’t have to leave right away.”

I look up. “No?”

He shakes his head. “Stay the night. Stay as long as you want.”

I study him for a beat. His eyes are open. Earnest. A little uncertain.

“I want to,” I whisper.

His whole body relaxes under me. Like maybe he was hoping I’d say that more than he wants to admit.

“I still have your essay,” he says with a grin.

“Oh, right,” I tease. “That was the whole reason I came here.”

“Sure it was.”

I smirk. “Are we still pretending you didn’t bend me over the couch?”

He chuckles. “That was a bonus. I take my mentoring responsibilities very seriously.”

“Uh-huh.”

He brushes his lips against mine.

“I meant it,” he says quietly. “Lesson one.”

I raise a brow. “What’s lesson two?”

His voice dips, low and filthy. “How much you can take before you start crying.” My breath catches. He grins. “But that’s for next time.”

*****

@cloudyluun @gem1712

[itzpookiepooh]

I didnt know you did requestss, I love your writing so much! if it's not too much trouble, I'd love to see you write the guys' reaction to an mc who's just comically clueless? doesn't catch hints, and flirting goes over the head. even when they've already stablished a relationship, they still doesn't see it coming when the guys want a kiss or more and it always makes mc freeze for a sec like "ooh" and it's just funny. the lis have to very direct, its like mc is on loading screen 99% of the time lmao sorry if its complicated or too specific

Oh, Me!

Thank you so much! I got you don’t worry!

Caleb loves you he swears he does but you were just so clueless. Any advance he try you would not understand at all. He tried to kiss you you’d coincidentally move out of the way. If he tried to flirt you would laugh it off as if he was cracking a joke. Today he was planning on asking you out and everything had to be perfect…for his sake.

He set out a perfect dinner and wondered how to come about everything. You were ready to eat, you had been hungry all day especially since Caleb insisted that you don’t fill up on anything. You tapped your finger on the table waiting for the food to get here. Caleb was nervous practically sweating bullets.

“Hey pipsqueak…” He trails off placing a hand on the table. You turn to him fluttering your lashes with big clueless eyes.

“What’s up?” You ask, he gulps before answering, “I like you. I mean really like you.” His voice shaky with nerves.

“Well I’d hope so we grew up together.” You laugh and tap his hand playfully. He sighs, there you go again.

“No like I really like you like I want to be with you.” He explains both elbows now on the table as he does so. You blink at him still not getting it. Are you not together right now?

A dramatic sigh leaves Caleb as he leans back dramatically in his seat. He throws himself forward and grabs your hands.

“I want you to be my girlfriend.” He says bluntly. You chuckle before answering, “Oh I get it. You’re practicing!” She taps the said of her head and makes a duh motion with her mouth.

Caleb wanted to pull his hair out. You were so…special. So clueless and yet so smart at the same time. He could only blame himself for this because he asked you last week but the way he asked made it seem like he was practicing on you. He grabbed your cheeks making you look at him.

“I like you, love you. I want you to be my girlfriend. I’m real life right now.” He emphasizes making your eyes go wide as if you just figured out a worldwide mystery.

“Oh! Yes of course.” You answered making him sigh in relief. Finally!

Zayne is use to you being mildly confused. It was what ultimately drew him to you other than your caring nature. Him telling you he wanted to be with you was one thing but now he had to go through the process again. He sighed at the thought but it was worth it in the end.

So on a walk, hand in hand, he took a deep breath. This was it. You were enjoying the scenery around you as the quiet evening sky fell over you. The sunset painting the sky beautifully. He admired you as he holds your hand tighter.

“I want to tell you something.” His usual low tone flows through your ears. You look up at him with hopeful eyes.

“I want to take a step toward our future.” He tells you as you glance at him occasionally.

“Like getting a dog! I’ve always wanted a dog!” You excitedly bounce holding his hand to your chest. He blinks before shaking his head at how you threw him off.

“No I want us to be closer.” He tells you as you continue to walk. You think to yourself before snapping.

“Like getting a smaller bed!” You chuckle as if you were the brightest crayon in the box. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I want us to move in together.” He tells you bluntly. You squeal in excitement, “Like roommates!”

“Why would we be roommates?” He pauses to question you. Why wouldn’t you be roommates? That’s literally what two people moving in are like!

“Because we live together….” You both just stare at each other.

“I’m your boyfriend.” He states the obvious. You nod firmly. “Exactly like roommates version.” You agree.

“Oh my gosh.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

Rafayel was on the verge of pulling his hair out. He had been flirting with you all day and you were just not catching on. If he could pull his eyeballs out he would. He called you cute and you said thank you and complimented him back. Fine, whatever. He wrapped his arm around you during the movie and you scooted over thinking you were in his way. He kissed the icing off your face and you told him he could’ve just used a napkin so he wouldn’t get dirty. He couldn’t win.

“How clueless are you?” He asks you on the cusp of irritation. You tilt your head confused on why he asked.

“I’m not.” You tell him. He huffs narrowing his eyes at you.

“I’ve been flirting with you all day and you haven’t noticed me ONCE!” He complains slamming his hands on the bed.

“Really? When?” You ask him as he names off every instance today. “That was you flirting?” He felt a pang in his chest.

“Are you playing with me or something?” He deadpans but you were so very serious.

“Nope sorry.” You tell him as he pouts. He gets up and kisses you putting you in a daze.

“I’ve wanted a kiss this whole time.” He pouts holding your cheeks.

You blink slowly at him before nodding, “Noted.”

Sylus is such a sweetheart. A patient, loving, sweetheart. You were so clueless to his advances and it was kind of funny to him he won’t lie. He flirts with you and you take it literally. It made him and the twins laugh so hard to the point of tears.

You walked by him as he was reading and he decided to test you. He knew how you’d react and that was the fun in it. You were going out for the afternoon and were fixing your jeans.

“Do you have any room in your jeans for me, sweetie?” He smirks at you putting down his book. You raise an eyebrow at him. Of course you didn’t these were already tight as is.

“No? Why would you want to wear these with me in them?” You replied genuinely confused what his problem was.

The twins were wheezing from the doorway. You were always like this. They didn’t know if you were joking at first but now they know you’re dead serious. You look at them with your hands on your hips, concerned. What was so funny?

“What?” You didn’t appreciate being laughed at. You wanted to get the joke.

“Sweetie I’m flirting.” Sylus tells you through his laughter. A lightbulb goes off as your mouth makes an ‘O’.

“Oh…sorry.” You sheepishly replied. Sylus didn’t mind he thought you were hilarious.

You and Xavier are the same amount of aloof and everyone knows it. Xavier was subtly trying to flirt and you were not getting it. He thought he was pretty smooth though even if you didn’t get it. You were dressed up nice already for your date. Xavier couldn’t take his eyes off of you, he wanted to ravish you.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented you making you get shy. You wave him off, “Thanks.” His eyes grow dark as he thought of what to say next.

“It would look even better on the bedroom floor.” He smirks at you making you freeze and stare at him.

“What?” You raise your eyebrow. He smiles softly at you as if he didn’t say anything.

“I said it would look even better on the bedroom floor.” He repeated making you stare at him blankly.

“I don’t get it. Why would I do that? That’s making a mess.” You tell him crossing your arms. He chuckles before walking up to you and whispering in your ear.

“Oh! Xavier don’t be nasty!” You smack his arm making him fall out laughing. You were flustered the rest of the night because he kept flirting with you.

This took a minute but aye I hope I got it right 😅

[elysianightsss]

Pen Pal Price Part Two🫧🍑

nsfw ahead so I’ll cut it off at that point…reader is also described as chubby below because I am so they are too lol.

-

His voice startles you to the point where you visibly flinch, it’s nothing like how you imagined it to be. First of all, you didn’t know he was British. The accent that wraps around his words so sharply is one you recognise but can’t quite put your finger on in this moment.

His voice is deep, rumbles out somewhere from within his chest. It vibrates through the phone and through you. For him your honeyed voice drips into him like the sweetest summer wine.

“Sound so pretty.” You hear him mutter, barely a whisper but definitely something he was trying to hide. Your cheeks burn as you blush hard, your bottom lip caught between your teeth while you think of what to say to the man you’ve been writing to for weeks on end.

So many words exchanged and yet now you’re at a loss. Can’t think properly, it begs the question; how will you react when you meet in person?

“I haven’t got long, I guess now’s the time I tell you what I do for a living.” He chuckles lightly and you wish you could see his face while he does.

“Sounds intriguing.” You frown though your face is still smile stricken.

“Oh you bet it is love. Very dangerous, rough. I don’t think you’d want to hear about it.”

“Excuse me good sir, I live for danger. Did I not tell you how I dangerously painted the spare bedroom the other day? Though I don’t think it went well.” You joked looking over at the room that was half done and had paint streaks pointing in all different directions.

“Are you doubting your mad painting skills?” Your heart soared at the joke, at his laugh, just all of this. Being able to speak to him properly, being able to communicate more easily without waiting a whole week for his response to arrive by post. Shifting through the mail everyday desperate to read his words. You hadn’t felt this happy in years.

“Maybe just a little.” There’s a pause, and you think you hear some background chatter, something about unit leaving and someone definitely says captain, “maybe you could help me?”

“I definitely will.” He doesn’t hesitate with his answer, it’s so sure and so final. It says a lot about him. You’re desperate to know more. “I’m sorry love, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow? Same time?”

And he does, you lunge for the phone practically jumping through the air to answer him. You chat about useless things, have silly little conversations about everyday life. There are days when you think it’s his day off work, those days he stays on the phone to you for hours. Those days are your favourite.

He tells you about the new book he got and even reads you a few chapters while you cook dinner, he makes you promise to cook him a meal sometime. You don’t hesitate to agree.

Again he loves the domesticity of it all, how prefect you are in his eyes, though his ocean blues haven’t actually seen you yet. What a perfect little wife you would make. He knows it’s far too soon to think about things like that but he cannot help himself.

The way you fly away with yourself, talking about what you’re doing that day or joking about something you saw on tv or giggling about the cupcakes you were making because the icing went wrong making what you piped look like pigs instead of the unicorns you were going for, for you niece’s birthday party.

He listens with his eyes closed, dreaming of the day he comes back from deployment. The day he comes back to you, to home smelling of freshly baked goods. His pretty lady waiting for him all smiles and giggles. He wishes.

“Um..” you pause unsure, wondering what if he says no.

“What is it love?” He asks so worried. So ready to fix any problem you throw his why. Once again though you hesitate and once more he encourages you, “Come on pretty lady, tell me. What’s up?” You let the nickname you’ve reprimanded him about numerous times slide with what you’re about to ask.

“D-Did you want t-to video call?” He grins at how fucking adorable you are. The way you stutter just asking a simple question like that. He bites back a groan at the way he stiffens in his trousers. Dirty old man.

“I would love to.” He of course then had to explain he had a flip phone. You laughed hard at him and said he would need a smartphone. You had no idea he would go and buy one just to video call you with. Another thing you reprimand him for, spending his hard earned money so easily like that. His little lady nagging him, and all he does is smile at the sound. He loves it.

Your heart hammers in your chest as the phone rings. A lot like the first time he called you. You had talked him through the set up and helped him understand what an app is and how to call on text on a smart phone. And finally, you told him how to video call. Which app to press, you were just explaining how it works when your phone begins to buzz with ‘John💕 is FaceTime you’ popping up on the screen. Your number of course being the first one he added.

You can’t help but feel nervous, checking you look semi okay on the screen before pressing the green answer button. Then your breath is knocked out of you so hard you actually choke, John fussing about getting some water and breathing for him goes in one ear and out the other. You can’t look away from him even as you catch your breath.

He’s nothing like you pictured and yet he’s perfect.

He looks like the kind of man you picture when you read romance novels and the kind of man that sneaks into the dreams that have you waking up hot under the collar and panties sticking to you uncomfortably. The little description of himself you asked for certainly did not do him justice.

“Hi love.”

“Hi John.”

“Fuck you’re gorgeous.” Even though you frown, you can’t stop a smile from splitting your face.

You’ve got chubbier cheeks and thicker thighs than most girls, something you’re insecure about and john can tell. But fuck you look gorgeous to him. Over the next few weeks John catches on to just how badly you feel about your body image, the way you put yourself down in favour of supermodels, the way you wear oversized clothing to cover yourself up. He finds himself grumbling, hating it each second more than the last.

He understands how badly beauty culture has fucked over women who are genuinely beautiful but are made to feel like they’re nothing. He gets it, he does. But he certainly doesn’t agree. Especially not with you. He finds himself dreaming of those squishable cheeks of yours, the way you’re so soft around the edges, he can tell.

You completely did him in last Monday, it’s the middle of winter for goodness sake, how did he know that you’d be wearing shorts when he FaceTimed you. Gym shorts that hugged your plump ass so fucking perfectly, that flashed your thick thighs to him. Christ, he’s been thinking about those pretty thighs all week long. When he’s running drills, your thighs are on his mind. When he’s planning out a mission with his unit, your thighs are on his mind. And when he’s alone at night with his hand wrapped around his swollen cock, your thighs are on his mind.

He can’t stand it anymore, it’s been agonising with how busy he’s been not calling you, not seeing you or hearing your voice. No knowing what you’ve been up to or how your day has gone. He calls and he praises the Lord above for bringing you to him, when you answer. A prayer on his lips, a beg for you to become his wife one day when you’re there smiling in the cutest silk pyjama set he’s ever seen. It hugs you exquisitely, showing off your rounded edges and all John can think about is how he can’t wait to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your tummy.

You’re clearly fresh out the shower or bath with your damp hair and freshly wash face, but John’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life, in fact he tells you so. You haven’t felt your cheeks burn the way they did then, well maybe one other occasion.

“Love?”

“Yes John?”

“Would you like to meet me for coffee tomorrow? At that cafe you like?” He’s hopeful when he asks, you can not only hear it in his voice but see it in his face. “I’m in the area for work and have a few days where I’m free and I’d love to see you.”

You can’t recall a time in your life where all you did was smile, but since you found John, you don’t remember what not smiling all the time was like. You don’t remember anything other than how happy he makes you. So you take a breath, you muster up the courage and say yes.

“I’d love to see you too John. Just tell me what time and I’ll be there.”

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which you write a song to mourn the girl who never chose you

The first time you saw Paige Bueckers, she wasn’t even looking at you.

She was laughing. Head thrown slightly back, her hand resting on Azzi Fudd’s shoulder, a champagne flute dangling from two fingers like it was too easy to hold. The ballroom was warm and loud, filled with half the sports and entertainment industry, buzzing with fame and perfume and polished egos.

You were used to the energy. You’d grown up inside it, learned how to mold your voice and your smile into something marketable. Your last album had just gone platinum, and people kept congratulating you for lyrics they didn’t really understand.

But when Paige turned toward the open bar, she finally looked at you. And it was different.

Blue eyes. Like, stupid blue. Soft jaw. Sharp cheekbones. Confident posture like she didn’t even know what she was doing to everyone in the room. And a little smirk—half curiosity, half challenge.

She slid in beside you at the bar, cool and casual. “Surprised to see you here,” she said, voice low, almost teasing. “Didn’t think music royalty hung out with us college athletes.”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Didn’t think basketball players looked like heartbreak in a suit.”

She laughed—full and real. “That’s the vibe I’m giving off?”

“Maybe a little.”

She nodded once, then leaned against the bar, elbow brushing yours. “I’ll take that. I’ve been told worse.”

The conversation kept going. Ten minutes became twenty. Then forty-five.

You talked about everything and nothing, tour life, UConn’s training schedule, fame, pressure, pregame rituals. She told you how she hates losing more than anything, how Geno pushes her even when she’s injured, and how sometimes being the face of something makes her forget who she is underneath.

You told her about feeling the same. How some nights, after a stadium’s worth of people sing your lyrics back to you, you still fall asleep feeling alone.

She was the first person in months who didn’t look at you like you were a product.

You exchanged numbers just before midnight.

“Don’t be a stranger,” you said, like it wasn’t already too late.

She smiled, eyes lingering a little too long. “I won’t.”

Weeks passed. Paige wasn’t a stranger—but she wasn’t exactly yours, either.

It was complicated.

Some nights she’d FaceTime you out of nowhere, hoodie on, hair pulled back, voice soft. She’d ask about your rehearsals or your favorite line in the song you were working on. Other nights she’d go silent, unread messages stacking up like bricks between you.

She wasn’t playing games—not intentionally. She was just scared. You were too.

You didn’t talk about what this was. You skirted the edges, flirted in jokes, opened tiny windows and closed them just as fast. The space between you was full of potential—and landmines.

Still, you craved her.

You watched every UConn game you could, cheering when she made her signature midrange jumpers, quietly holding your breath whenever she limped or winced or got hit too hard. You sent good luck texts before games. She’d respond with a prayer emoji and a heart.

You hated that you wanted more.

You hated that she didn’t know how to give it.

The night you got an idea for a song, it was raining in Berlin. You were alone in your hotel room, lights off, just your keyboard and the low hum of traffic outside the balcony.

You’d just gotten off the phone with her.

Well—tried to. She didn’t pick up. Again.

You stared at the screen for a minute after it went to voicemail. You didn’t even know what you would’ve said if she answered.

You pulled your journal onto your lap, let the frustration spill out first.

i don’t wanna beg for your time but god it kills me when you don’t try you touch me like you mean it then vanish like none of it mattered

Then, you moved to your keyboard. Slow chords. Minor keys. Tension.

Your voice cracked the first time you sang the chorus.

teach me, I wanna understand your love language, babe but you only speak in silence and i’m tired of translating

You stayed up until 4 a.m.

You don’t mean to check her tagged photos.

It just... happens.

You’re on a plane to Tokyo, jet lagged before takeoff, and your thumb is auto piloting its way through Paige’s Instagram. Game highlights, behind-the-scenes clips, interviews where she lights up about basketball but not much else.

Then you see the tags.

A group pic from a house party.

She’s tucked into a corner of a couch, long legs bent, her smile crooked.

Next to her, a girl with bleached hair leans close—too close—like she belongs in that space. Her arm drapes casually over Paige’s shoulder. You zoom in without thinking.

You try not to react.

They could be just friends. You want to believe they’re just friends. But the girl’s comment under the photo says, “My favorite person.” With a red heart.

And Paige liked it.

You don’t like the feeling that follows. That sick, weightless ache in your chest. The way your stomach churns because even if something is happening—you have no right to ask.

She’s not yours.

Not officially. Not out loud. Not in any way that counts when you’re sitting 37,000 feet in the air with a lump in your throat and her ghost in your chest.

You’re so in love with her and she doesn’t even know.

Or maybe she does, and that’s the cruelest part.

She texts you two weeks later.

Paige: Hey. Are you in LA right now?

Yeah. A week. Then Madrid.

Paige: Can I come see you?

You stare at the message like it might burn you.

You say yes anyway.

She books the flight that same day.

When she arrives, it’s raining again. She’s in a beanie and oversized hoodie, clutching a duffel bag like she’s afraid if she lets go, she’ll lose you.

You try to act normal.

But her eyes keep flicking to you like she wants to say something she’s not ready to say.

Dinner is awkward. You ask about school. She asks about your setlist. Neither of you mentions Instagram or the girl in the photo.

You walk back to your hotel under one umbrella.

And somewhere in the silence, her hand finds yours.

It’s soft.

It’s slow.

It doesn’t feel like two bodies crashing together—it feels like two hearts trying to memorize each other in case this never happens again.

She kisses you like she’s sorry.

You hold her like you’ll break if you don’t.

She undresses you with shaking fingers.

You let her because you don’t know how else to say, please just want me back.

After, you lie on your side, watching her breath slow. Her arm is draped over your waist. You think maybe this is what peace feels like.

She whispers, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

You turn your head. “With me?”

“With all of this,” she murmurs. “But especially you.”

You close your eyes. You nod.

You fall asleep anyway.

She kisses your temple goodbye.

She squeezes your hand. “I’ll text you when I land.”

You say, “Okay.”

But she doesn’t.

Not that day.

Not the next.

The silence grows teeth.

You send a few messages—just one-liners. You okay? How was your flight?

You never see the bubbles pop up.

She doesn’t block you. She doesn’t unfollow. But she disappears.

You think about the way she said your name. The way her body curled around yours. The way she said she wasn’t ready but came anyway.

And you stay.

You wait.

You stick around.

Even though it kills you.

Because you’re not just in love.

You’re all in.

The second time you wrote more of your song, it’s not even about the words anymore.

It’s about survival.

You sit on the floor of your Madrid suite, legs crossed, guitar on your lap. Your voice is rough from crying. The recording app is open on your phone. One candle flickers near the window.

You start playing.

This time, the lyrics spill out like confession.

say you don’t mean to hurt me, but you do it anyway touch me like a promise, leave me like a phase i keep learning your silence like it’s some sacred phrase i don’t speak your love language, but i pray every day

Your voice breaks on the bridge.

You re-record it five times. It never gets easier.

You call your producer. Tell her you want to finish the track by the weekend. You ask for analog tape. You want the vocals to sound like a voicemail she’ll never hear.

You put your whole damn soul in it.

You leave it on the table like you’re saying, Here. Take it. Take me. Please.

You imagine her listening.

Maybe she’ll cry.

Maybe she won’t even click.

But you had to write it.

Because there was no other way to survive what she did to you.

The moment it hit streaming platforms, your fans lost their minds.

“WHO is this about?” “Y/N sounds like they’re in pain.” “Love Language is a cry for help and I am SOBBING.”

Paige didn’t text for weeks.

You thought that was your answer.

You tried not to care.

Tried.

It’s been two months since you dropped Love Language.

The song is everywhere—radio, TikTok, late-night shows, trending on Spotify. Fans are dissecting every lyric, every breath, trying to guess who it’s about. Some think it's about a past lover. Some think it's a fantasy.

But you know exactly who it’s about.

And you know she knows too.

You just didn’t expect her to actually reach out.

It’s 2:07 AM in Paris. You’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with one AirPod in, watching muted reruns of The Office on your hotel TV. You’re trying not to think about her. Failing, as always.

And then your phone buzzes.

Paige: i heard the song.

You sit straight up in bed. Stomach flipping like a trapdoor just swung open beneath your ribs. Your thumb hovers over the screen. The message is short, quiet. You can practically hear her voice in it.

You type. Delete. Type again.

i figured you would.

Then nothing. For two minutes. Three.

Paige: is it about me?

Your fingers freeze.

You almost laugh. Like—Seriously?

You don’t want to be cruel. You don’t want to spill all the things you screamed into your lyrics, the months of hurt you swallowed so she could live her quiet, unbothered life.

But you also don’t want to lie.

it’s about the way you made me feel. or not feel. i guess that’s the point.

A pause.

Then she types again.

And this time, it's long. A big blue bubble.

Paige: i didn’t know how to handle any of it. you scared me. not in a bad way. just… you felt real. too real. and i knew i couldn’t give you what you needed. not then. maybe not even now. but i never wanted to hurt you.

You stare at the message until your eyes blur.

You breathe her in through pixels and old pain.

You wait a few minutes, not because you need to, but because your hands are shaking too much to trust yourself.

You respond.

i didn’t need perfect. i just needed honesty.

And then…

you should’ve said goodbye.

The read receipt appears.

She doesn’t reply.

Not right away.

And still… you leave the chat open. Because some part of you— the stupid, stubborn part— still wants her to learn how to speak your love language.

You’re not expecting the knock.

It’s late. You’re in sweatpants, your tour finally wrapped, your house quiet for the first time in weeks. The silence is nice—until it isn’t. Until it starts to sound too much like her absence.

You open the door.

And there she is.

Paige.

Hoodie half-zipped, hair up in a loose bun, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans like she doesn’t trust them not to reach for you.

You blink, unsure if you’re dreaming.

“Hey,” she says softly.

You swallow. “Hey.”

She looks tired. Beautiful, but tired. Like she hasn’t been sleeping. Like maybe she’s been listening to your song on repeat at 2 AM the way you used to listen to her post-game interviews.

“You’re here,” you murmur, stepping back to let her in.

“Wasn’t sure I should come,” she admits, brushing past you into the living room. “Didn’t think I’d be welcome.”

You shut the door. Your heart slams like a trap beat behind your ribs.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

She sits on the edge of your couch. It’s awkward for a second—two people who once knew everything about each other, now strangers trying to find a common language again.

Paige breaks the silence first. “I didn’t ghost you to hurt you.”

“You did hurt me.”

She flinches. “I know.”

“I wrote a whole song about it, Paige.”

“I know,” she repeats, quieter.

You cross your arms. “So why now?”

She looks up at you, and God—those eyes. That same blue that used to watch you in green rooms, glowing from the side stage, holding your hand under the table at that awards show you snuck into together.

“Because I miss you,” she says, barely a whisper. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even when I tried to convince myself you deserved someone better.”

You let out a bitter breath. “I didn’t need better. I needed you. And you ran.”

“I know.”

“I kept showing up for you. And you kept disappearing.”

“I was scared,” she says again, but louder this time. Frustrated. “You don’t understand what it felt like to be around you. You walk into a room and people know you. Want you. Love you. I’m just—” She breaks off, hands fisting on her thighs. “I didn’t know how to be enough for someone like you.”

Your voice is softer now. “But you were.”

She looks at you like you just said something impossible.

“You were enough,” you repeat. “Even when you didn’t text back. Even when I cried on bathroom floors because I didn’t know if I meant anything to you. I still saw you as someone worth loving.”

Tears rim her lashes. She doesn’t blink them away.

“I listened to the song,” she says. “Not just once. Over and over. And every time it felt like you were holding up a mirror and I hated what I saw.”

You sink to the arm of the couch, hands close, not touching.

“I didn’t write it to hurt you,” you say.

“I know.”

“I wrote it because I didn’t know how else to grieve you.”

The silence wraps around you both. Thick. Unforgiving. But it’s not cruel this time. It’s honest.

“I’m sorry,” she says finally. “For not calling. For not saying goodbye. For making you think you weren’t worth choosing.”

You sniff, nod. “You’re late, Paige.”

“I know,” she whispers. “But I’m here now.”

That makes you laugh—a small, tired laugh. The kind that escapes when your chest is cracked open and all that’s left is the truth.

“Do you still love me?” she asks.

You don’t answer right away. You look at her. Really look.

The curve of her shoulder in your hoodie. The small scar near her eyebrow from a fall in high school. The way she still curls her fingers inward when she’s nervous, like she’s trying to hold her own hand.

And yeah.

You still love her.

You don’t say it.

You don’t have to.

You reach across the space between you and lace your fingers with hers.

And she breaks.

She leans in, forehead against yours, tears falling freely now. She’s shaking, but she doesn’t pull away.

“I don’t know if I can do this right,” she whispers. “But I want to try.”

“I’m not asking for perfect,” you murmur. “Just… show up. Be honest. Speak my language.”

She nods against you.

And finally—finally—she kisses you.

It’s slow, apologetic, trembling. All breath and ache and whispered forgiveness.

When she pulls back, you hold her face in your hands. “You don’t get to disappear this time.”

“I won’t.”

“You don’t get to almost love me.”

“I love you,” she says, immediately. Fiercely. “God, I love you.”

You close your eyes.

You believe her.

Not because she said it.

But because—for the first time—she stayed long enough to mean it.

[eraserbread]

𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚 part 1 masterlist, listen, nanami tag

god help me be a good wife, cause he needs me even when he's not right, he still needs me

a/n: thank u guys for loving my nanami as much as I do <3 he's been my fav character to crack, per se, so I hope this pretty canon n correct for all of u :)) writing and designing this short story I'm calling good wife was so meaningful to me. i'd love to bring u some comfort during these trying times. enjoy x cw: 18+ suggestive themes and explicit content

♫ - turning page - sleeping at last

When Nanami Kento asked you to marry him, you hesitated. 

You two met in the odd space between high school and the thought of university, where Nanami left sorcery and threw himself into salary work to keep his head clear. He only goes out once a week to drink his guilt away and feel normal. It’s there, at dinner with co-workers, that he meets you — a mutual friend of his desk mate who had a little too much to drink one night.

He didn’t think much of you at first, just a chatty little thing that clung to his co-worker as if you couldn’t bear being in this atmosphere alone. He understands – it’s not easy to slip into a skin that wasn’t your own. That's why he only tries this once a week, just so he doesn’t go crazy, alone in his head. 

Years of being your acquaintance were easy enough, especially when he worked more than he lived. After ten to twelve hour days, he’d disappear under his covers, bought with the money he hoarded, whispering to himself that life always carries reason. It’s hard to see when you’re self-isolating, but Kento knew himself well, right? 

Then, something shifted when twenty-year-old Nanami finally admitted to himself that this loneliness would send him to an early grave. It’s hard having self-control that swallows you whole because then you can’t admit anything to yourself. Except when he would look in the mirror and notice his muscles starting to turn into skin and bone. That night, for dinner, he ate a convenience store takoyaki and slept for three hours. 

The next morning, he forged plans to see his desk-mate, mentioning your name lightly in conversation. He wasn’t completely sure of himself, so he had to talk to you again. 

That night, he fell in love with your shimmering reflection in the shitty bar lighting. You were wearing a little blue dress with a jacket three sizes too big, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. It’s the first real feeling he’s felt that wasn’t grief – constant grief. Grieving everything. 

You were a sanctuary. 

That’s why he could only wait three years of loving you before he proposes to you at your favorite coffee shop. It’s an every-week tradition – you’d leave your part-time job and catch the bus to wherever you two spoke about the night prior. It’s usually coffee or bakeries, hardly museums and galleries. He likes talking to you, you’re the first person whose opinions he honored. 

All he does is place a ring between you when he does, amber eyes shadowed as he watches the reflections in his coffee cup. You’re still talking about baseless drama with a co-worker and their partner, and Kento nods along as long as he needs to before clearing his throat. 

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, recently.” He cuts you off, tucking his bangs back behind his ear. He’s doing almost everything to not look you in the eyes until you notice. “And I realize that I would be a dead man if I didn’t have your love.” 

You take it as a joke, too busy getting lost in the shy glimmer in his eyes as he speaks. “Not true.” 

“No, it’s true.” Kento’s talking about it all – your wakeup calls, the food you prepare for him, his clothes you’ve tended. It’s truly like you’re a miracle worker, and he’s just your peer. He loves you so much for everything you do for him, and you do it because he’s so thankful. “And I love you more than I can ever show, so I want to marry you. See?” 

You look down at the table past your mugs, dirty plates, and napkins. Next to the scone you’ve been sharing, a delicate diamond ring nudges from Kento’s fingers. 

You hesitate, looking from the ring to his shadowed gaze. 

“Ken, we’re only twenty-three.” 

Exactly one week later, holding his hand through a street festival, you say yes. After that coffee shop Sunday, you couldn’t give him a straight answer, so he told you to keep the ring until you figured it out. You slept with it for a week, gauged strangers' reactions to it in public, and kept it on while you washed your hands. It felt good, like having a tattoo of him on your finger. You found yourself thinking about him and his broad shoulders and gentle touch every time you glanced at it, and you never wanted that to go away. 

Now, as he’s holding your hand, he’s tracing his fingers across the small diamond, admiring the fact that you kept it on. Deep down, he knows you’ll say yes because you love him, but it doesn’t help that Nanami carries a fair amount of relationship insecurity. He’s terrified he’s not reciprocating your acts of service enough, but you know him. You know that his love language is just touching you – being with you like this. Early breakfast dates and falling asleep on your shoulder during movie night. 

You don’t want him to doubt himself anymore, so you give him an answer. “I’ll marry you.” 

Somewhere buried deep in his soft expression, you see relief wash over his shoulders. He cracks a smile. “You have no idea just how happy that makes me.” 

Spring is in full bloom on either side of the trail you’re walking. Commoners walk about, children laugh, and lovers love. You vow to remember this moment – the way the sunset bounces off his ivory skin and the warmth of his sweet smile. His young features glow when he’s around you, catching onto all of your tiny movements. It’s a love so pure and real, you never wanted it to fade away. And it never will because once you come to terms with your answer, you come to terms with never loving another. Kento makes it so easy, he’s everything you could ever possibly need in the perfect lover. It’s selfish, but you will do anything to keep his love for the rest of your life. It’s safe to say you’d even let pieces of yourself fall by the wayside just to keep him a little closer. 

Kento pulls you to the side of the trail, out of the way so people can walk without disturbing the moment he wants to pull you in. It’s under a maple tree that he guides your chin with his finger, carrying you through a sweet, long kiss. As the sunset dips, the wind picks up, nearly blowing the cabbie hat from your head. Of course, Ken notices, because he closes his hand over it, keeping the hat steady as he deepens the kiss. 

That night, you take Nanami dancing, but he just stands to the side with a smile on his face as you twirl across the dance floor, breaking in the shoes he bought you. The crowd was sparse at this bar, but it just gave you more room to show off to your fiancé. Being around him made you fearless and on top of the world, so you let him see it. You let him hear the joyous ease in your tone as you beg him to join you. You tease him for his shyness, but he knows it’s only a heat-of-the-moment thing. You’re never serious unless you’re telling him how much you love him. 

When you toss your hat his way, he catches it and dangles it from his long pointer finger. You’re a giggling, tipsy mess from drinks he bought and the love he gives, taking your leather black hat and placing it directly over his long hair. His face goes crimson, blushing even harder when you close two hands over his cheeks and lean forward to kiss him. 

He kisses you back, then mumbles how much he loves you against your liquor-soaked lips. Kento calls you beautiful, how fearless and admirable you are, and how he can’t wait to marry you and make you his forever. You’re so pretty in this dress he bought you, spinning like an angel in shoes he bought you. Yeah, he just loves you so much; it's hard to put into further words. He lists off everything you’re wearing, everything you’re saying, and how perfect you are until you’re drunk off of endearances. He holds your cheeks between big, warm hands, shaking your face between kisses. 

Then, for the fiftieth time that day, he tells you he loves you. You smile like it's the first time. 

You two find your way back to Nanami’s apartment in the back of a taxi, leaning your head on his shoulder as he rests on the back of his seat. You kiss over his neck a few times, but he always stills you with a gentle, authoritative hold on your lower thigh. You love the touch, and you obey him by dropping your lips. 

“I wonder how often I told you ‘I love you’ today.” You whisper, just to talk to him some more. He’s been quiet because he’s sleepy, and you know the specifics of his demeanor enough to tell he just wants to be in bed. 

“Between the two of us, I’d estimate a good two hundred.” He cracks open an eye as you gaze up at him. “Maybe more.” 

“Ken? Serious question- 

“Mhm?” 

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” 

He cracks open his eye again, studying your little puppy-dog stare for any crack of humor. You look completely serious, and it stuns him. “I can’t read you right now.” 

You sit up a bit straighter, smoothing a hand over his sweatshirt. Completely serious, you continue. “If I woke up tomorrow as a little worm in your bed, would you know it's me? Would you love me still?” 

“Probably not.” He shrugs. Then, your face falls, and he has to pedal back. “I-I mean, yes. Yes, sweetie, I will love you. I will carry you on my shoulder as I cook breakfast so you can guide me through your omelette recipe.” 

“Aw.” You sniffle, burying your face in his chest. He pets the back of your head, chuckling once more to himself. He doesn’t want you to think he’s making fun of you, but he loves this stupid drunken state you’re in. He realizes you only had two drinks tonight, but it’s okay. He’s been speaking to you in sickeningly sweet love letters all day, so you were bound to be obsessed and silly. “I love you, my Kento.” 

Nanami presses a kiss to your forehead as the taxi rolls in front of his apartment, finally. Without a word, he pays the fare and coaxes you out of the unfamiliar vehicle. It’s easy to get you out, because as soon as he opens your door, you’re Nanami-starved and leap forward to take his outstretched hand. You love it when he takes the lead, deciding you two would spend the night at his. When you wake up, he’ll help you get to work, then help you get back to his place. It’s his duty, now, as your soon-to-be husband, and he was more than happy to fulfill it. 

“When do you work tomorrow?” He mentions over his shoulder shortly, dragging you with him by the hand. He’s leading you into the apartment building and up the few flights of stairs to his third-floor home. 

“Hm… noon, I think. I’m so sorry, I’ll have to check.” 

“Don’t worry.” He only drops your hand when he fishes for his keys in his back pocket, unlocking and opening the door for you. You tuck under his arm, finally happy and free once you’re back home – his home. Smells so much like him in these four walls that you’d be high by the time you make it out. It’s always so neat in here; Nanami likes it this way. He also likes the way you immediately begin shedding your outer layers as he clicks the door shut and locks it. 

You’re holding your eyes shut as you toe off your loafers, stumbling around and blindly holding an arm out towards him for stability. He holds you for a moment, letting you push off your jacket and hand it to him. 

“Wanna go to sleep.” You whine, Nanami nods you through it, feeling similarly. Somewhere, buried deep down, you both know sleep would be lazy, half-awake lovemaking to mark the day successful. You want that so bad – you want him more than words can express. 

“Yes, dear. Almost there…” He responds, hanging your jacket behind the door and tucking your shoes away. You’re stuck waiting for him while he settles, sweatshirt ruffling his sweet, blonde hair when he pulls it off. Your heart swells and beats at the sight, so you can’t help that the first idea to come to mind is pulling him into a lazy kiss. 

Lips hardly moving, Kento rubbed across your lower back, feeling every inch of the body he knew he had unconditionally. This is all he wanted when he wanted you – love, nurturing, and lovely, sweet sex to keep him sane. If he has to wake up in seven hours to spend his day locked in an office, he’d at least be at ease with the memory of your thighs. He couldn’t ask for a better way to end his proper engagement night. 

So, he leads you to the bedroom, hand in hand, always one step in front of you. He always knows the way. This time, it’s into his bedroom so he can unravel you and take you whole. The first night as something more than a boy or girlfriend didn’t feel much different from the rest for him, but for you, he seemed like an entirely different person. He looked like yours. Familiar and sacred. You loved these sturdy, strict bones. 

“Can you wear something loose tonight? Is that okay?” Nanami’s ushering you into his bedroom, letting you walk forward and drop his hand. Enough nights spent together make it easier to navigate it this time, but you still feel pressure. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you wanted to be so perfect for him tonight. 

“Don’t have a lot of clothes here.” You stretch your arms over your head, whining a bit as you trek to the closet. “Can’t wait to just live with you so we never have this problem.” 

“Something of mine is okay.” You can hear him fidgeting about in the bedroom, turning lights on and off, lowering the curtains, and setting pillows. Again, you know he does this sometimes, you think it’s a nervous tick, but sex isn’t foreign for you two. 

“I bought this babydoll set I’ve been meaning to show you. Maybe I’ll save it for the wedding now.�� You have a small hoard of clothes, here. Just some T-shirts and loose work clothes. It helps in a pinch when you fall asleep here and have to be at work early. Tonight, you settle for the latter – an old t-shirt with an invisible paper company etched into the front. 

Kento waits a bit before responding – he’s in the bathroom, handling something with running water. You can guess he’s washing up, so you go to join him. “You know I love those, but I love it when you’re as comfortable as possible.” He turns his head when he sees you enter the bathroom, glancing at you as he washes his face. “A shirt is good. How are you feeling?” 

“Sleepy.” You reply, lulling your head to the side as you watch thick beads of water drip from his chin to the countertop. Once he feels sufficiently clean, he uses a rag to wipe his face, then the counter before tossing it to the laundry. You loved just watching him be - everything your fiancé does is with utmost precision and purpose. 

“Take over for me, I’ll be in the bedroom.” 

“Oh, wait.” You stop him before he crosses the threshold, digging in the top vanity drawer for a condom in his stash. You both knew if you didn’t grab it here, you’d sleep in mess tonight, and Nanami would have to spend a lot of his night helping you clean and wash everything. 

“Good thinking.” It passes from hand to hand, Nanami holding it up like a prize. He steps out of the bathroom with a final glance, then you’re left to yourself, hands shaking as you start your nightly ritual. 

Kento beats you back to bed, sitting at the side with his elbows pressed to his knees. He’s in different clothes, shirtless with a pair of loose sleep pants hanging from his hips. They’re low enough to be able to tell it's all he’s wearing. You drink in his lean, lanky figure, leaning against the bathroom door with your arms crossed around your chest. 

“Pretty boy.” 

“Just come on.” He laughs with you for a second until he’s just willing you forward with pleading eyes. The lights are dim in the room, but you can still see the way his chest rises and falls nervously as you stalk over to him. He’s glancing at your thighs – up to your lips and loose hair and silky skin. You smell like rose water and him, and he just wants to eat you alive. 

You’re first - you decide as you straddle him, squeezing his shoulders in your grip. He’s so close, you can hear the breath hitch in his throat as you settle over his crotch. 

“I love you.” You whisper to him, pressing your forehead into his. You can feel the slight nod Kento gives you, so you kiss over his ear and roll back into bed. 

Ken sleeps on the left, you’re always on the right. He’s closer to the bedroom door, deeming it safer for always some unsaid reason. You always sleep facing the covered windows with his arms around you so gently, it's like you’re made of glass. Tonight is no different; he holds the covers for you to slip under, watching as you shimmy against his body to get comfortable. He sinks in behind you once you’re settled, burying the side of his head into the pillows. Everything sounds ten times louder – more intimate with your ear pressed into the bed, but you love it. You can hear the thrum in his chest when he snuggles so close. 

Then, you can feel it, and you can hear the sound of his teeth ripping open the foil condom packet in your ear. It makes you shiver, but the tip of his erection gracing your thigh makes you nervous. This is it – you don’t know why it felt like the first time all over again. 

“I love you too,” he finally responds, hand trailing under your shirt and over your thigh. He fiddles down there for a bit, breath hitching directly in your ear as he slides the slick rubber across his sensitive erection.

Once he’s settled and you’re holding onto his arm like a vice, his lips are on your neck, and the warm, familiar head of his cock eases across your entrance, dragging through your slit sensually. You whine immediately, nails digging into his strong skin as he holds you close. Under your shirt, he’s flicking and pinching your nipple, his large hand covering the expanse of your breast. 

Nanami’s breathing so hard, leaving a sticky sheen against your jaw as he works you over. It takes absolutely nothing to get you wet – you were holding back arousal just seeing him sit shirtless on his bed, but you held yourself back because that’s what he always does. He’s just always so perfect and polite, it’s like the man had no flaws. 

You whine as he drags across your sensitive clit, turning your head into the mess of pillows as you fall deeper into his whims. He’s reacting to your voice, nodding behind you like you’re speaking in full sentences. In a way, your sex noises are like sentences. He knows you just told him, right there, don’t move. You feel so good. 

So, there he stays, thrusting his hips through your folds so he always just barely kisses your clit every time. He doesn’t want you to finish like this but knows that you will if he doesn’t just do it and ease himself inside of you. 

Kento is so slow and gruelingly gentle, chewing the lobe of your ear as he presses his hips into you. The stretch of him paving his way is so familiar and lovely - aching in the way you know you can’t live without now. He’s just slightly larger than normal, especially with such a lanky frame, but you go crazy for it. You two fit together like puzzle pieces, kissing and feeling under covers as your body memorizes the shape of their counterparts to keep forever. 

When he’s finally fully seated inside of you, your guts swim and cry, sending another hot wave of arousal through your veins. He feels this good covered in a condom, it’s not like you remember. Every single nerve in your body is a million times more sensitive, more receptive to his sweet moans and love-licked kisses. 

“-feel so good.” You manage to breathe out as he humps you lazily, licking a stripe from the base of your neck to your jawline. He knows it feels good, you’re so warm and comforting under these downy blankets, he was due to overheat at any second. That doesn’t make him want to stop, it makes him want to fuck you deeper. 

“Ken- kiss me.” You know he’s not the most vocal person in bed unless he’s upset or ranting. Tonight, he was tired from work and the love he gave you so purely and easily so the loudest he gets is his panting breath in your ear. 

You help him along, craning your neck so his lips can find yours. He sucks them clean, tongue swiping across your bottom lip and spilling soft grunts inside. You swallow them all like a drug, begging for more as your lips hang open. He grabs your face, fingers digging in your chin as he pulls you back to deepen everything. Inside, he’s kissing your most delicate spots, and on the outside, he’s making your lips his. Mixing spit and tastes gives you the perfect mouthful of him. Every single trace of what his tongue touched today. But, most of all, he tastes like you. 

The realization nearly makes you cry. You love him so much. 

“P-please.” You’ve started to beg as his hand falls between your thighs, massaging your clit between his fingers. You can feel the tension in his thrusts, letting you feel his closeness as his grunts begin to break. You wish you could feel what he’s feeling, but you’re sure what you’re feeling had to be ten times more potent. It feels like you’re on fire, letters of his pretty name being branded into your flesh as you finally cum around him and his sinfully skilled fingers. 

“Loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou,” you cry, whining so high and painfully as he fucks you through the wave of craze. You’re both damp in sweat, sticky with your finish. But, Ken isn’t done. 

He tightens his hand around your throat as he grinds his hips hard into you. He’s so silent, it’s unnerving, but when he cums, he actually breathes out a little moan. 

“My baby… love you.” 

That next morning, Nanami helps you to work like he promised, shoving a few loose dollars in your purse as you run out to your ride. Of course, you were running late. You couldn’t turn down the steamy makeout session in the morning shower, only not going further because of the doom of the morning clock. He’s due at his desk just a half hour after you leave, so he’s in just as much as a rush as you are. 

Oh, and you certainly didn’t work at noon. You two woke up just forty minutes before you had to be on the floor of your boutique job. 

You’re not complaining or stressed because you are so over the moon with your life now. Kento asked you to come straight home to him after work, and he’d order dinner. Apparently, you two have a lot to talk about, but you know he just needs your constant presence now. 

The only time you’re apart is when he turns his cell off during work hours. Your fiancé was strict, but you always had his desk number if there was an emergency. He always had you fitted with one of his cards in case you have to buy anything, but he prefers if you’re cautious. When he handed it to you those weeks ago, he told you to be careful, but you know he wouldn’t be upset if you spent the entirety of the balance. He’d likely scold you with a quirk in his brow, then make mind-shattering love to you that same night. 

Yeah, your Namani was the perfect man. You can’t stress that enough. 

As you’re folding clothes and tagging at work, your mind drifts to him and his toned chest. His voice rings familiar in your ears, making you shiver even when nobody's there. You purposefully address coworkers and friends with your ringed finger, blushing and talking all about your man when asked. A lot of your people know of Kento, but he’s extremely private. Whenever you’re drinking dollars away with your young friends, he’s usually at home sipping a beer and watching the news in distaste. 

Somehow, that made him so much more perfect… 

God, you just can’t stop thinking about him. 

Daydreaming about him

Lost in thought, with his eyes totally blocking out all of your common sense. It’s nearly impossible to exist – you would have to shrug off for a bit and let this love settle into your norm before becoming yourself again. 

It drives you crazy not being able to see him during these long work stretches. 

So, that night when you beat him home, you spend a small eternity tending to yourself in the bathroom. Shaving, plucking, perfuming, dusting – all of it. You practice saying his name in the mirror, backed by meek praises like ‘I love you so much’ and ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day.’ 

You know he’d just give it that unassuming chuckle he always did, but it’s your unassuming chuckle. You’re likely the only person he’s ever given that specific look, and that makes you so warm and fuzzy. The thought of him carries the hours by until he’s turning on his phone and immediately sending you an,

On my way to you, love. 

Pressure builds in your bones as you read it a few times, skin tingling in a blush. There’s nothing more you have to do to prepare for him, so you pinch your glossed lips together and leave the bathroom. You know it usually takes Kento fifteen minutes to get home by train, so you spend all fifteen of them tidying out random spots in the apartment, even making sure a window is open to let some fresh Spring air through. 

But it’s on that 18-minute mark that the front door unlocks, and your Nanami steps inside with his briefcase and shirt buttoned high. You rise from checking your phone, tossing it back on the couch as you flood him. 

“I missed you so fucking much. God, today was terrible.” You smooth your palms over his chest, letting him lean to set his briefcase down. He doesn’t speak just yet; he leans forward and kisses you. “How are you doing, babe?” 

He’s not talking to you, he’s just kissing you, trailing hands down your back. “Mm, you smell good,” Kento whispered in your ear after kissing across your jaw. “Wear this perfume for me all the time, now.” 

“It’s like super expensive, Ken. I just have the tiny bottle.” You laugh, holding his shoulders as he steps back. The first thing he does is loosen his tie, taking his first real breath of the day. 

“Buy it on my card.” He decides like it's nothing, more focused on getting his shoes off so he can collapse on his couch. “Sorry, I just didn’t sleep much last night.”

You shake your head, furrowing your brows as you breathe out a short laugh. You knew why he didn’t get much sleep, it was your fault. “I was there. Didn’t get much either.” 

“Won’t get a lot tonight, either.” He takes in your reflection for a moment, eyes drinking in the soft silk nightgown hugging your familiar shape. You always put in so much effort making sure you dress pretty for him. It’s impossible not to when you work in a boutique and have a constant supply of cute things. 

He appreciates it more than he could ever say. Instead of thinking about what he’d have for dinner all day, Kento is thinking about what you’d be wearing for him when he sees you again. 

“Well, you smell good… you look good…” He stops for a second, tossing his blazer down with his briefcase. He didn’t know how to act when you’re standing in front of him with that doe-in-the-headlights demeanor, biting over your shimmering lips. He swallows down something sinister. “Do you taste good, too?” 

The biggest, stupidest smile takes over your face as his eyes trail up your bare thighs. He catches a glimpse of your face and laughs, taking that as his sign to hoist you up by the thighs and carry you to the bedroom. 

“You said we had a lot to talk about today?”  

You’re impartial to the fact he’s literally tossing you on the bed, reaching immediately for your knees to pose you properly. He can feel the glands in the back of his cheeks starting to secrete at the thought of drowning himself between your thighs. You just look so pretty and smell like heaven. Kento didn’t know what to do with himself. 

He keeps his collar buttoned to the top as he yanks open your knees, getting down on his so he can catch the view of your red rosy underwear. 

“What ‘re you talking about, girl?” He mumbles, licking his lips before pushing your panties to the side and dipping his tongue into your eager cunt. 

You were expecting his mouth, but you weren’t expecting him to be so eager; it makes you squeal. “Ken- fuck!” 

He hums, using a single hand to clench your thigh and another to unbutton his shirt. His sinful, loving tongue fucks you like he wants to – taking its time dipping in and out of your shivering entrance. You’re leaking and crying for him already, jumbled endearances falling out of your parted lips. 

It’s like he’s fucking you stupid only on his tongue. It kills you - he kills you. I bet he expects two more rounds out of you, too, before the night is done. 

But you two do have a lot to talk about. So, after you finish all over his tongue, he shoves off to the bathroom and closet to clean up. He leaves you time to yourself to collect your bearings, just deciding to ditch the sticky underwear in their entirety. It’s not like you’d be hiding anything from him anymore. 

“So, you’re moving in with me. I’ve started thinking about the whole process.” Kento steps out of the closet in his pajamas, combing his long hair back with his hands. He keeps complaining it’s getting too long for his tastes, but you like having something to tangle your fingers in. He wouldn’t cut it just yet. 

“Oh - yes, I guess.” 

“You guess?” He stops before he goes in the bathroom, wiping his face on his forearm. He’s looking over you with shadowed, sleepy eyes. “You don’t want to?” 

“Obviously, I want to.” You’re still gathering yourself, pushing your strap back over your shoulder. “Just… give me a second.” 

“Are you coming down well?” 

“Mhm,” You finally open your eyes, tucking some hair away. Now that you’re feeling a bit steadier, it’s easier to face him normally. He looks cute. “I’ll move in with you. You’re closer to the city, anyway.” 

That makes him smile again, and you realize you need a picture of him doing that. It’s not a common expression with him. “Since you get off earlier than I do, you can always just be at home waiting for me.” 

He doesn’t give you a lot of space to respond before he heads into the bathroom, turns on the faucet, and takes care of himself with you out of sight. You feel a pang of loneliness when he leaves your sight, but you’re stuck thinking about what he just told you. 

You can always just be at home waiting for me.

[ghostedgwen]

in breakable heaven | s.black

note : I just never wanna sleep and wanna write until I drop because reality is kinda sucky right now, cheers to more links added to the t.s + marauders masterlist lol

warnings : slight angst with comfort, will they won't they, friends to lovers, sirius black is tamed - good job

You’ve been spending more time with Sirius and it’s starting to feel less like friendship - doesn’t help that he’s no longer running around snogging random people in halls. But you were too afraid to ask where you both stand.

└——————— - [ 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚���𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝚃𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚝 - 𝙲𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 ]. +

You weren’t quite sure when it shifted. When the easy sort of friendship you’d built with Sirius Black started to feel like something else entirely.

Though you had practically grown up with him within the castle walls all these years, he was never too close yet never strayed far.

But around your fourth-years, a friendship bloomed and now in your sixth-year, there's a shift.

Maybe it was the way he started showing up early to breakfast, sliding onto the bench beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe it was the way he stopped flirting with everything that breathed and had a pulse, stopped snogging seventh-year Ravenclaws behind the greenhouses and bragging about it afterward.

Maybe it was the way he started looking at you. Quietly. Carefully, like you were something worth studying and deciphering more than Ancient Runes.

It didn’t help that you were spending more time together. He’d pull you onto the couch in the common room without asking - he never needed to, legs slung across your lap like it meant nothing.

The action always passed off as just Sirius Black being his ever aloof self.

He’d pass you notes in class that said nothing important, just doodles of you or him, and nonsense - and inside jokes that made your chest ache with both want and hurt.

He never said anything about it. Neither did you, because what would you even say?

How could you even begin that conversation without tilting your relationship to one far side of the spectrum?

It wasn’t like you were together. It wasn’t like he was yours.

But it was starting to feel like maybe - just maybe - you could be his.

“You’ve gone soft,” James said one evening, flinging a Chocolate Frog wrapper at Sirius across the Gryffindor common room. Peter has already claimed the card in it, some wizard from the 20s he wanted to collect. “Haven’t seen you drag anyone into a broom cupboard in weeks. Should we be worried, Pads?”

Sirius didn’t even bother looking up from the game of Exploding Snap he was losing to you, though your ears perked at that - seems you weren't the only one to notice.

When the rake of Gryffindor takes a break, what does that mean?

“Maybe I’ve matured,” he said, flicking a card that burst into flame with a bored expression. You raise a brow at that, what a fucking lie.

James looked scandalized. “Matured? You?”

Remus glanced up from his book, it's some muggle non-fiction he has been severely interested in. Remus was always buried in a book, always absorbing worlds and knowledge like a greedy little sponge. “Stranger things have happened. Like Peter trying to brew a Polyjuice Potion last week - alone.”

Peter turned pink, looking down at his lap with a solemn look. “It almost worked!”

“You turned your ears into slugs,” Remus said without looking away from the page - casually flipping to the next one with a click of his tongue. Like a mother chastising a kid.

You snorted. Sirius glanced at you, and for a second, something passed between you that made your stomach curl - a knowing glance.

Though you're not sure what moment settled between you.

James noticed. Of course, he did. He was observant when it counted - and definitely on matters involving his best mate.

His eyes narrowed, zeroing on you two. Exchanging dramatic glances between Sirius and you. “Wait a minute - ”

“Don’t,” Sirius warned - already groaning at the dramatics James Potter will unleash.

James grinned like a boy with a secret. “It’s ____, isn’t it? You’ve been. . . attached.”

“I’ve always been attached to ____, since third-year,” Sirius said smoothly, regarding you with a casual look - the one he gives his friends, it made you swallow, “Just took you this long to notice.”

Your face went warm then, not sure from what - from embarrassment? Or from the wink he threw your way in secret?

James looked between you and Sirius, then back again. But for once, he said nothing more - giving in with a defeated sigh, way too loud and dramatic.

You didn’t know how to ask.

What are we? would sound childish. Are we something? too hopeful.

Do you like me? sounds awfully desperate.

Merlin, you were lost.

So you said nothing, and instead let yourself sink deeper without knowing where his heart was in all of this.

Let his laugh live under your skin, like a choir that travels all over you and never once leaves.

Let your eyes find him in every room, scanning the blurred faces and only his seemed to register - through everything, there was just him.

You started walking with him to class, even when it was out of your way - if he knew, he never pointed it out. You never did talk about which classes you were taking, your talks were always of other things far from academic or proactive.

He started showing up outside the library, leaning against the door frame with that lazy grin and asking if you were hungry - he refused to come in most time as he knew the Librarian had something against him - must be his previous shenanigans in there the past years.

He just waited for you to finish your homework and flashed that ever charming Black grin.

You never said no, not to him, you just take his offered arm in mock chivalry and allow your giggle to sing in his ears.

One night, you found yourselves alone in the Astronomy Tower - he said no one really checks there, the climb up was too bothersome that the Prefects just never bother -

Not even the Head Boy and Girl could be bothered. You were completely alone up there under the wide blanket of constellations.

You hadn’t planned it. Just happened, like the majority of your secret moments with him. You, chasing quiet - which was rare when you're surrounded by Marauders. Him, probably chasing stars.

You sat together on the stone ledge, the night sky endless above. You neglect to point out how you could see his constellation above, you've memorised it.

You could almost laugh at the symbolism.

He bumped your shoulder with his, an action that tugged a smile at your lips to mirror his. You look away, focus on the pattern that drew out Canis Major.

“Do you ever think about running away?” he asked all of a sudden, voice too soft to be casual.

You looked at him, really looked - but he kept his eyes on the stars.

You scan his features, those handsome pieces that stitched together one Sirius Black that had every girl swooning at Hogwarts - you were no exception. At the way the moonlight touched his cheekbones. At the quiet flicker of something like pain behind his smile -

His home life was not a secret, he's been living with James for almost a year - if we count his time at Hogwarts under the Potters' ward. You wonder how many people really saw the broken boy underneath the charming Gryffindor.

You wonder if anyone else would see how there were dark spots in his stormy grey eyes, if anyone noticed how he had a single freckle (or a very faded mole) right below his right eye.

“All the time,” you said, answering honestly. Though, somehow - those fantasies turned to something else, you wanted to run away with him.

He nodded. “Thought you might - you and I, we're a bit alike, aren't we?”

And then, just like that, he reached for your hand.

Not in a way that meant anything, could've just been a friendly gesture given the conversation that you were having - except you knew better.

Except it did.

You didn’t speak again. Just sat there, hands tangled, the silence full of everything you didn’t know how to say.

It went on like that for what felt like forever.

Glances held too long. Jokes that felt like confessions that rolled off his tongue quite easily. Moments where the air between you felt charged enough to spark.

Still, you didn’t ask.

Still, he didn’t say.

Until one night, you caught him staring again with a faraway look in his eyes.

The firelight made his eyes look gold - having grey eyes made it like a blank canvas that reflected any light. He looked so serious you thought maybe he was sick.

“Sirius?” you asked, once the silence grew too long with him just staring.

He blinked. Sat up straighter, then remained silent.

You hesitated. Then, “What are we doing?”

He was quiet for a long time. So long you regretted asking - wishing you could wash those words off your tongue with soap.

And then, finally:

“I was hoping you’d tell me.”

You laughed, but it wasn’t funny - it was almost funny, so you still manage to let out a laugh. You fail to notice how he perks up at the sound of your voice.

“It’s starting to feel like something,” you whispered, hoping he'd understand and he did not fail -

“It is something.”

You looked at him. He looked back, something unreadable is settling between you two again.

You decide to take a page off his book, to show off that bold Gyffindor pride.

“Then why haven’t you kissed me?” you smirk, tilting your head slightly to the side.

His voice was hoarse. “Because I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

And then he did, before you could roll your eyes at his answer. He drew close and got rid of the gap between you two, answering all the brewing questions with a single kiss.

And it wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t blinding light or sudden clarity.

It was soft. Careful - unlike the heated make out sessions he would have with random girls who'd agree to a quick snog.

Like he was learning the shape of you with his mouth.

Like he didn’t want to get it wrong - like he wanted this as much as you did, and you felt all his sincerity in the kiss - even in the way his hands hovered over you but never touched.

He was too careful with you, like he knew you had doubts he had to wash away.

When you pulled away, his forehead rested against yours - a boyish grin on his face.

“Do you want the real thing?” you asked, because you had to - singing in riddles.

His answer was immediate.

“Only if it’s with you.”

The next day, nothing changed. You two still stole glances across classrooms, brushed hands during meals and he still loungued in the common room with you -

Limbs tangled and laughter bouncing off walls.

Except the air around you two has shifted - it was lighter, there was a bounce in your step.

He still sat beside you at breakfast, but pressed a kiss to your forehead every 10 minutes.

He still passed you notes in class, but with a wink and kisses drawn on torn-off parchment.

Now, his hand found yours under the table during classes - his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand.

Now, when people asked what was going on, he didn’t flinch - he proudly boasted about his lovely girlfriend - the girl who's managed to tame the rake.

He just smiled, kissed your cheek and talked their ears off about your great qualities.

James Potter is surely over it.

And you stopped being afraid.

Because whatever it was - it was yours. He was yours.

end. masterlist

[sinstear]

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎SECRETS WILL KILL YOU, KEEP IT HUSH.

synopsis: what was once the best times of your lives, what happens when the one you loved more than live itself, your best friend; vanishes without a trace and it’s up to you and your friends to figure out what happened? can you save her in time? tags: major angst, talks of character death, reader being oblivious, cursing, nervous and depressed reader, talks of guns, an appearance from said gun near the end, sprinkles of fluff. happy ending, somewhat. there’s probably a bunch of other stuff i’m missing, but i need this out my face already. wc: 22k .... uhm, look away. an: i’m not sure how i feel about this, but i’ve been reading too many psychological books over this past month; send help asap, and had the idea to write a little something of my own, i say little like this isn’t sitting at a fat 20k+ words .. don’t judge me please or i’ll cry. i cried too much writing this because i hated it for so long LMAO. thank you @vifilms for proofreading and supporting this crazy idea, and helping me through it. i love you. anyway, enjoy <3

Thursday, 28th April 2015.

“you know you could just tell your date you came down with a cold, s’not like she would notice, girls too obsessed with herself notice anything,” Abby suggested, her round dark green glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. 

“I can’t just lie,” You scoffed, looking up from your phone, and noticing Abby was clad in one of your sweaters, cross-legged and reading yet another recommended book. “Besides, you know me and dates never last, remember the last one? 20 minutes into getting to know her,”

“She accidentally mentioned her girlfriend, yes, I will never let you live it down.” Abby giggled from beside you and shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen this time? She tells you about the 4 wives she has at home?”

“Funny,” You grumbled and slapped her shoulder playfully. Abby laughed and you felt your heart flutter. You liked it when she laughed, it felt refreshing and beautiful. “If that happens, I hope you’ll be there to rescue me when I call you stressed out.”

Holding her hand over her heart, the blonde nodded with a subtle smirk on her lips. “I solemnly swear I will always rescue you from your failed dates.” 

“Hey, Honey.” 

Jerry. Sweet and kind Jerry Anderson; He still looks young, even though the stubble on his face is more grey than before, the dark bags under his eyes darker, but you can tell the glint is slowly burning out in his eyes. He used to have a spark to him, but now it’s dim, almost vanishing right before you. “Hey, Mr Anderson.” You coughed on smoke and cleared your throat.

“C’mon kid, I’ve known you since you were in diapers, and throwing eggs at the neighbor’s house, you can call me Jerry.” He laughed, but the smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. Not like it used to be.

Stubbing out your cigarette on the sidewalk, you chuckled nervously and wiped your hands nervously on your jeans. “Yeah, no right, sorry, Jerry, habit, you know” you trailed off, looking at him silently, trying to work him out. “Any news?”

“No, don’t think there will be any for a while.”

Abby, your best friend, had made a joke once in her backyard that if you weren’t both in a serious relationship before you turned 18, you would both date, settle down, and get married. It was a promise you promised to keep, if anything, you would be right outside her door, asking her to be your girlfriend the second you turned 18. 

Her 26th birthday is next week.

Abby disappeared just weeks before her 18th, she left your house happy and smiley, secretly hoping you would still be single in the next two weeks. She loved you. Jerry knew how much she adored and loved you. Hearing about the dates you would set yourself up on, broke her heart but you were her best friend, so she should be happy for you right? Never ruin a best friend’s dream and wish, she told herself each time she left you and went home to cry into her pillow while her dad, god bless his soul, sat on the end of her bed, comforted her, and stood by her.

“I miss her you know?” You finally mumbled out, looking away from him. “More than I did yesterday, and I’ll miss her more tomorrow than I did today.” The crack in your voice was evident, and it broke Jerry’s heart to see and hear you so distraught. His was hurting too, for so many reasons, but the main one was he didn’t know where his daughter was and it was slowly killing him.

“I know you do, kid,” His smile was faint, his hand trembling as he took a seat beside you on the sidewalk. “My girl loved you with all her heart,” His voice wavered and you couldn’t even smile at him, you couldn’t even promise him anything because how can you? “I know in my heart she’s still out there, somewhere, I’ve heard the talk, the gossip people are saying, saying that she’s dead, some days I believe it, some days I don’t, but I do know one thing, she’ll come back, to us, to you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s an Anderson, we don’t give up,” Jerry laughed and for a second it felt like Abby was still with you, laughing and joking like nothing else in the world mattered. “And she’s your best friend, my girl wouldn’t leave you behind. She’ll come back, and that promise you made each other? When you were younger, stealing my beers and trying to smoke a joint?” He laughed again when your eyes widened and he patted your back lightly. “No judgment here, Abby is always safe with you, but you both made a promise, and she will always keep a promise.”

“I’ll find her, Jerry, I promise.”

“You’re slouching like a dog and m’pretty sure you’re drooling”

Peeling your eyes open slowly, you scowled at the sight of a smirking Ellie looking down at you amused. “Fuck off, what do you want?” You huffed, folding your arms over your chest and closing your eyes again.

“Saw Jerry,” Her voice was suddenly softer, and you could just picture the way she was playing with her fingers, not knowing what else to say. “He looked—”

“Worse for wear?”

“Something like that,” Ellie smiled and sat in the empty chair beside you. “I know this is a dumb question, but have you heard or seen anything?”

“You mean have I seen the girl I’m in love with walking around? The same girl who suddenly vanished into thin air?”

“Don’t be a dick, m’serious.” 

“Then no, I haven’t seen Abby walking around. Do you think I would be sitting here, drinking a beer at 1pm if Abby was here?”

Ellie, even though she pisses you off and gets under your skin, was helpful with everything. She was always there if you needed someone to talk to, always about if you needed just a little help trying to figure out when and where Abby disappeared too. After the breakup with Dina, Ellie felt herself stuck in a hole, unable to feel that push to get out and get help. You were there for each other, even if Dina did give you a subtle glare or side eye when she saw you together. You and Ellie was a line neither of you would cross. That’s always been how it is. 

“Hey guys!”

“Oh here we go,” Ellie shrank back in her chair and held back a groan. “Doesn’t this girl have other friends? I wouldn’t even say we are friends” 

“Who is— Oh fuck sake.” 

“How are we doing?!” Mandy, someone that Dina had brought into the friend group when Ellie and she were still together, skipped over and smiled at you both. “Ellie.”

“Anyway, as I was saying,” She completely blanked her, turned back to you, and smirked. “I think that we, me and you if you get my drift, should go and look for her.”

“Say fuckin’ what now?” You blinked.

“Find whom?” 

“Abby, who else do you think?” Your friend snapped.

“Oh, the girl who wanted you to abandon our date that one time?”

You can see her lips moving, but you don’t know what she or even Ellie are saying; your eyes are locked in on the charm around her bracelet. It wasn’t there a few weeks ago, you’d know, she’s always happy and cheery, flinging her arms about like she’s just snorted the lemonade instead of drinking it. It looked oddly familiar, but at the same time, you couldn’t put your finger on it. “So what do you think?” Ellie’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and she looked at you with that infuriating grin.

“About?”

“Finding Abby”

Ellie can’t tell if you want to throttle her or throw something at her with the way you’re staring at her. It used to freak her out when you would go silent and just stare like you suddenly forgot how to function, but lately, she’s gotten used to it, this is your way of processing something. “Ellie, you can’t be serious right? We don’t even know where she went before— before she just disappeared. How are we going to find her? With what money? Where do we even start? This isn’t some crime show we watch on the TV, Ellie, this is real, this is her life—”

Her hands came up, grabbed your shoulders, and squeezed tightly with a soft chuckle. “Breath, Nancy Drew, you’re going to give yourself a panic attack. We don’t have to suddenly rush off, and get ourselves into trouble, we just have to retrace steps. Abby’s steps.”

“It’s been years, El.”

“I know, but we’ll find her, okay? She wouldn’t just leave, and she wouldn’t leave you. We all know this, you know this.” Her smile reassured you somewhat, but you still had that nerve eating away at you. What if she really was gone?

The charm was still gnawing at you. Where could you have pictured it before? You weren’t 100% sure you were seeing things right, maybe it was one that you had thought you had seen before but it was your mind playing tricks on you. Maybe it was because you had a hole in your heart, and you were trying to put something there to ease it a little. To make it whole again. 

So why couldn’t you let it go? Why did you have to keep pushing yourself into something that wasn’t there? Was it because you needed Abby, and you needed to find her? To restore your thoughts? Or was it because some part of you knew the outcome of what’s happened, and you were too afraid to say it out loud? 

“Been a couple of years since you came in here,” Jerry’s voice rang out from behind you. He sounded tired. He probably hasn’t slept properly in years, just like you. So you knew how he was feeling. “You and Abby would try stealing the candy, but I always knew it was you two. Always sneaking around and causing trouble between yourselves.”

You looked at him over your shoulder, fingers grasping at the picture he hand hung up on the wall of Abby, tightly and smiled painfully. “Did Abby take anything? When you—”

“I would have told you, you know that.” Jerry cut you off, dropping the box in his hands onto the floor, and sighed softly. “I’ve been in her room hundreds of times since she, well, since she disappeared and I haven’t noticed anything different. I haven’t even changed the wallpaper, s’too hard to handle.”

“She wouldn’t have left without a reason, Jerry. Abby doesn’t just go missing. If she was in trouble, she would have come to me, if anything was wrong, she would have called me, she would have asked for my help.”

“This is hard for me to talk about.”

“And you think It’s not hard for me?” You scoffed, gripping the picture tighter. “My best friend goes missing and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do. There’s nothing I can do. It fucking kills me to know that she’s probably out there, scared and alone, and I’m here feeling sorry for myself? You know how fucking shitty that makes me feel that I couldn’t keep her safe? She’s not fucking here and It’s my fault because I didn’t protect her hard enough. I should have walked her home that night, I should have done more.” 

For the first time in years, Jerry can see how terrified you are. For a while, you’ve been able to keep your emotions and feelings at bay, keep them under control, but as you stand there, looking at him, he can see a younger you. A scared little you. You look small, broken, and terrified as you stand before him. “This isn’t your fault,” He shakes his head and clenches his fist. “This has never been your fault.”

“When I look at you, I wait for you to shout and yell at me. Blame me for her going missing, I wait every single time, and it never comes. That’s pathetic, right? That I wait for you to blame me for the reason your daughter is missing.”

His sudden sob catches your attention, and you feel like shit. You’ve never meant to make him upset, you’ve always been the one to make people laugh, to make their stomachs hurt over a silly joke you made, but always has everyone laughing and smiling. But you’ve made him cry, and you suddenly feel lost again. “M’sorry—”

“I’ve never blamed you for this, and I won’t start today”

You find Ellie on her porch step that same afternoon after your conversation with Jerry, nursing a glass of water in her hand and her eyebrow raises just slightly when you storm over and stand right in front of her with your arms folded over your chest. “Alright? You look like you’re on the verge of a mental breakdown or murder.” She joked, and your lips quirked up just slightly. “What’s up?”

“I want to find Abby.”

Just like that, Ellie placed her glass beside her, almost knocking it over when she leaned back and grinned at you. “Nancy Drew, this is going to be something,” She lazily smiled and stood up quickly. “Just don’t go telling Joel, he worries enough about me and whatnot,”

“Tell him that we’re just going camping, just until we get somewhere with whatever steps we have to retrace around here.”

“Camping?” She scoffed and glared at you.

“Ellie, you dress like you live in the fuckin’ woods, he’ll believe you.” You rolled your eyes, brushed past her, up the stairs, and into her house. “C’mon idiot!”

“God, yes Mother!”

When you were younger, you and Abby spent a lot of time at Ellie’s house. Joel always had to refill glasses with lemonade to put more sandwiches on empty plates, and you were always thankful for him, Ellie, and Abby. Always for Abby. The memories of your childhood, your growing up, lingered in certain parts of the house. For a split second, you felt like you were back there as you walked into the living room; you remember how Abby almost cried when she lost a game of Uno, and Ellie teased her nonstop for it. You remember how the blonde would cuddle into your side during random movie nights, especially the horror movies Dina decided to watch, even though she would turn them off most of the time because it got too scary. 

The picture of the 4 of you still sits on the fireplace and a smile curves on your lips. You still remember the day it was taken, and how cold it was to take such a picture in the snow. If you squint hard enough, you can see the redness forming on Abby’s nose, and if pictures had audio then you would be able to faintly hear the chattering sound of Ellie’s teeth at how cold it was that night. You weren’t sure if Ellie would have gotten rid of all the memories, but you were thankful she didn’t. You lost Abby, Jerry lost Abby, but in the end, you all lost her. You all lost a part of yourselves that morning he couldn’t find her. A little bit of each of you died when the posters were put up all around Jackson not even a week later. The missing poster still haunts you. No matter what.

“Even in pictures, Abby always wanted to be close to you.”

Joel. Placing the picture back down, you turn around and find him holding logs of wood. His hair was slightly shorter; Ellie probably had enough and took the scissors to it. His eyes still had a small glimmer of hope, but he still looked exhausted. “Yeah,” You nodded and fumbled with your hoodie sleeve. “Haven’t taken a photo since, feels too weird without her in them. It would also feel like cheating, can’t take a picture that she’s not in, you know?” A faint smile tugged at your lips.

“You’ll all take one together when she’s back, no doubt about it. Hell, Ellie will probably fill her wall with new pictures of you guys,” Like Jerry, Joel’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes and you hold back either a sigh or a cry. “El misses her too, you know?” He added quietly, like he was scared she would hear you both. “She might not talk about it, like you, but I’ve heard her crying at night, sometimes it takes me hours to get her to calm down. Poor girl almost sent herself into a panic attack last night because she was crying so much. I wish I knew how to help her, all I ever want is to help her and keep her safe and I don’t know how. I feel lost because I can’t help her when she needs it.” 

“You’re doing the best you can, Joel.” You wanted to help her too, you wanted to ease and help everyone but even you were lost and confused. “She knows you’re here, and she’ll come to you when she’s ready to talk about it. I promise.”

“Yeah I know—”

“Joel? I thought you were out with Tommy?” Ellie appeared finally and looked between you both. “You guys alright?” She laughed nervously and dropped her jacket on the back of the chair with a shiver. It was slowly getting colder, so more blankets and fires were needed.

“Yeah, yeah, was just catching up and stuff, haven’t seen Joel or Tommy for a while.” 

“If you didn’t cancel on the dinner last week, you would have seen them,” She teased, kissing Joel’s cheek and taking the wood from his hands before walking over to the almost gone-out fire. “Old man misses you, he misses all of you.”

Even Abby, she thinks. 

“Right, you guys staying for dinner or?” Joel laughed.

“Yes, we’re staying,” Ellie looked at you, folding her arms over her chest. “Aren’t we?”

“Yeah, missed your cooking.” You grinned playfully at him. 

“We’ll be in my room!”

“I know El, It’s the only place you socialize.”

Pushing open her door, Ellie slumps herself in her desk chair, sighs, and then looks over at you as you slump face-first onto her bed. “Right, operation find Abby, what’s first?”

“Well, we all saw her that night, surely someone knows something that we don’t,” you mumbled before lifting your head slowly with a grumble. “Abby doesn’t just go missing within 24 hours, El. Not without someone seeing something. Have you seen how many people lurk outside the bar? Lurk around the shops? Someone has to have seen her, or something.”

“So, we start there. We ask everyone.”

“C’mon dude, surely you remember seeing her at least once that night?!” Ellie scowled, holding up a photograph of Abby in his face, almost shoving it under his nose with how angry she was getting. Sighing under your breath, you reached your hand up and pulled her arm away. 

“El, he doesn't remember, let’s ask someone else. Preferably someone who isn’t drunk right now.”

“We’ve been asking people for hours—”

“It’s not going to happen overnight El, and as much as I want it to, It’s impossible.” You rubbed at your face and sighed loud enough for her scowl to drop and a frown to appear. “I just want her to be okay, and I know that she’s scared somewhere, whenever she is, but I need to find her.”

“We’ll find her, we’ll look around all day and night if we have to.”

The metal door clangs loudly against the brick wall, sending a slight vibration through the floor, and the feeling of terror sinks in all over again. The room is dark, and cold, not even a blanket could keep you warm if you tried hard enough. The days have been lost, not even sure what year it is anymore, and not even having enough energy to count specks of dirt on the walls have been long forgotten. The energy to keep going was slowly getting lower and lower. 

The painful squeak of the door opening would cause anyone to lose sleep. “Eat your food, don’t make me waste more money on this shit if you don’t want to eat it. Stop being ungrateful and do what I tell you.” The small plate of food hits the floor, almost going everywhere, and just like that the door slams shut again without another word. 

How much longer?

“Yeah, I saw her.”

Both yours and Ellie’s eyebrows shoot up at his words, and you look at her with a glimmer of hope. “You did? You saw her?” You asked. 

“Course I did,” He nodded, taking a hit from his cigarette and coughing abruptly. “Was getting something from the bakery store, bread or something? She wasn’t there for long, but I saw her.”

“Was she with anyone?”

“Nah, was by herself, she didn’t seem to be in a rush or anything. I was cleaning up the tables outside, and that’s when I saw her. Then when it came about that she had gone missing the next week, I didn’t know what to think. I don’t think she went missing, but I suppose I should let the professionals deal with it.”

“Professionals,” Ellie clicked her tongue on the side of her mouth and laughed. “Yeah because they’re much help.”

“Thank you,” You smiled apologetically. “Let us know if you can remember anything else.”

“Will do. Hope you find her.”

 Just as you and Ellie turned around to leave, to ask someone else, that high-pitched voice rang out again. Stopping you both in your tracks. “Hi!” Mandy smiled sweetly, looking between you both as she got closer. 

“Gonna take this pencil and shove it right in my fuckin’ eye,” Ellie grumbled under her breath.

“Hi, Mandy.” You murmured.

“Whatcha doing?” 

“Looking for Abby, didn’t we mention this to you yesterday?” 

Jabbing Ellie in the rib, you shook your head when she glared at you and slapped on a fake smile. “Did you see Abby at all?” You asked, looking at her closely. 

Mandy looked between you both again, eyes just widening slightly before she laughed and shrugged. “No? We weren’t close.” 

“Don’t have to be close to someone to know if you saw them or not.” Ellie pointed out. 

“I was with my parents, and even if I did see her, I was drinking too much that night to know,” She shrugged again, looking at you with a happy smile. One that for some reason, made you uncomfortable. “Speaking of which, I have some books I have to give back to my parents.”

“You remember being drunk that many years ago?” 

There it was again, the wave of her hand brushing her hair away from her face when you noticed that same bracelet charm. It was making you irritated because you still can’t picture where it’s from, or who made it. But you know that you’ve seen it before, that you do know and are aware of. “—If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know, okay?” Mandy offered, giving you one final smile before she walked away. 

“She pisses me off more and more every day I swear. Remind me why you went on a date with her?” Ellie slipped the pen into her pocket and rubbed her nose harshly. Was she coming down with yet another cold? You thought to yourself.

“M’not sure, she always cornered me when I was alone and kept asking until I said yes, that’s it.” You shrugged as you both walked. “She always shows up when we’re talking about Abby, no?” 

“I don’t think she’s the kidnapping or killing type, to be honest. Too bubbly and cheerful.”

“She’s not dead, Ellie.”

Halting in her steps, Ellie turns around and acknowledges her words quickly. “Shit, no I know, I didn’t mean it like that. This is just stressing me out, we’re still getting nowhere.”

You both take a seat on the chairs outside the bakery, tired and feeling sorry for yourself as you both silently look through the list of names of people you still need to talk to. Wanted to know if anyone had seen her, just something. “There’s still the lady who owns the wine shop, that creepy guy who owns the other bar,” Ellie mumbled. 

Brushing your fingers over the paper, you shrink back in the chair with a sigh, one that already explains how tired you are, and close your eyes. 

Saturday, 1st May 2015.

“Yeah, m’here,” you mumbled, holding your phone to your ear, feet kicking at the rocks. “Make sure you rescue me.”

“I have a good feeling about this date,” Abby admitted softly, unbeknownst to you, holding back her sobs, and smiled even though you couldn’t see her. “I think It’s going to be amazing.”

“Yeah? How do you know?”

“Because I know you, and you deserve this.” 

Her words buried deep in your chest, and you felt your eyes slowly well up with tears, but you couldn’t cry, not today, not when you were about to have a fucking date. “Abby?”

You weren’t sure if you heard the hitch in her breath, and if you did, you ignored it. “Yeah?” She asked, fumbling with the sleeve of the hoodie she stole from you.

“Thank you.” 

Blinking away the tears in her eyes, Abby smiles sadly to herself. “Of course. I love you.”

“I love you—”

“Y/N? Hi!” 

“Abby I gotta go, I’ll come over after, yeah?” 

“Good luck.”

Slipping your phone into your back pocket once you hung up, you smiled tightly. “Mandy, right?” 

“The one and only! Seems unsettling it took you until the first date to know my name, but whatever, we’re here now.” She didn’t seem to notice your tight-lipped smile and urge to roll your eyes. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.”  

The small restaurant was slightly dimmed, smelling of cigarettes and strong beer. Mandy didn’t seem to mind, in fact, she was happily walking around; looking for a table to sit at and a small shriek of happiness flooded from her once she found a table that fitted her. “Let’s sit, come come.” The redhead hurried, throwing her bag and jacket onto the table beside her.

“Oh, uh, sure,” You took her things, smiling apologetically at the old couple who looked at her shocked, and seated yourself in the chair opposite her. “M’not sure what to eat here, never been before.” You admitted sheepishly. 

Mandy, who had yet to even speak, looked at you with a smile. “Everything here is good except for the lemon tart and the white wine.”

“What’s wrong with the wine?”

“Tastes like shit, typical for them, and whatnot.” She shrugged again, and It caught you off guard with how fast she covered up her distaste for things with a wide smile. One that’s almost sinister-looking. She was a good person though, Dina mentioned she was. You couldn’t judge her based on a smile. “Now, how did you meet Dina and Ellie?”

“I met Abby first, actually—”

“Abby? Why doesn’t that name ring a bell?”

“Oh, uh, Jerry Anderson’s daughter? They own the candy store?”

“Ah,” Mandy flashed yet another smile, sitting back in her chair and nodding along. “Don’t know them personally, I wouldn’t have a reason to.” 

“Right,” Clearing your throat, you hummed and gave her your best grin. Did you look stupid? Maybe, but did she care? Apparently not. “How did you meet Dina?” 

The sharp pinch on your skin had your eyes snapping open, your body almost falling out of the chair when you spotted Ellie looking at you, grinning from ear to ear. “Dude, fuck you.”

“You’re wasting time, If m’not allowed to nap, then you aren’t allowed either.” She scoffed, slipped the sheet of paper into her pocket, and stood up. “We aren’t getting anywhere, let’s go back to mine and we can go from there.” 

“What if there’s nothing?”

“There’s always something.” 

You started to lose count of the days. First they started as days, and then they suddenly started blending into weeks. You and Ellie were still none the wiser. Still lost on every account of what happened when Abby had left your house the night she vanished. You had barely left your bed; only to shower, brush your teeth and eat, but besides that, it felt like you were falling into another deep hole you weren’t sure you could dig yourself out of. 

Today was the first day you gathered enough energy to pull yourself out of the hole that was your unmade bed, and clothe yourself in something that had way too many holes, and probably is over 5 years old, but it was a start. “Most books that come back are usually missing a couple of pages, s’not unusual,” Brenda, the owner, explained with a tired smile. “Doesn’t make it less annoying though.”

“Yeah, can’t read a book with a fuckin’ page missin,” You grumbled, feeling the same emotions as her. You could get lost in your books, and to know the one you wanted to read was missing about 5 pages pissed you off. “S’fine, I’ll just take the other books.”

“Are you sure, Honey?”

“Yeah, m’sure—”

From the corner of your eye, there was a sudden flash, a sliver of blonde hair caught your attention and your body did a full 180, dropping the books on the floor, causing Brenda to let out a scowl and drop to her knees quickly just to pick them up. They were collector books, how dare you just drop them?” Shit, fuck, sorry, Brenda, I have to go—”

You were already running away before you finished your sentence. Pushing people out of your way, tugging them and almost pushing them over as you scrambled to get past the large crowds. “Abby!?” You shouted, sadly tripping someone over in the process, but a part of you didn’t care. “Move out the fuckin’ way,” Your hands pressed onto a back, shoving them a little too hard for anyone’s liking, sending them tumbling over one of the stools. “Abby!”

Before you could comprehend anything else, let alone think about the blonde hair, your body barreled into another harshly, sending you both to the floor, your back hits the dirty floor with a loud thud and winds you in the process. “Fuck!” You hissed, coughing painfully.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” 

Jesse. Turning on your side, your eyes flutter open, the pain in your back trailing all over your body as you find him already pushing himself off the floor, crouching beside you, and holding a hand out for you. “Sorry, I just thought I saw someone.” You explained, taking his hand and letting him pull you up. 

“Abby?”

“What?”

“You were shouting her name,” He laughed, shrugging his shoulders and dusting off yours. “Dina told me you and Ellie were looking for her, or something like that,” Jesse murmured, holding his hand up to block the sun from his eyes. “Had any luck?”

“I wouldn’t be shouting her name like a fuckin’ maniac and pushing people over if I had luck finding her,” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. His smile fell at your aggression, but quickly recovered and patted your shoulder with another smile. “Sorry, I’ve just— I don’t know what to do, It feels like she’s still here, somewhere, and I just want her to come back.”

“I know, and she will. You’re both like, stuck to each other, If anyone can find her, It’s you,” 

“Y/N! Y/N!”

Turning your head, you find Ellie frantically running towards you and Jesse. She barely acknowledges him though and instead, shoves a piece of paper into your hands before hunching over, resting her hands on her thighs and panting heavily. “What’s this?” You question with a raised eyebrow. 

“Abby was arguing with someone,” She spoke between pants and cleared her throat. “That creepy old man we saw last week? Freaked me the fuck out, to be honest, but when I saw him again this morning, he kind of cornered me and started telling me that she was arguing with someone near the barn, it got heated, but that’s all he remembers.” Ellie finally got out. 

“Arguing? With who?”

“Fuck if I know, but he said it sounded bad. So whoever she was arguing with, knows where she went, or was the one to see her last, right?” She blinked, copying Jesse and blocking the sun from her face with her hand. 

“I thought I saw her,” 

“Saw who? Abby? When?”

“Was talking to Brenda about books, and then It just felt like I saw her—”

“Almost took me out in the process.” Jesse chimed in.

Rolling your eyes, you looked down at the sheet of paper; the same sheet that listed the names of everyone who lived here. “So she was arguing with someone? That could have been anyone.”

“Half of them are old, one argument would send them into their coffin—”

“Ellie!” 

“What?! M’just saying! It’s true.”

“Jesse, do you remember Abby wearing jewelry?” You asked after a few seconds of silence.

His eyebrow rose this time, only to furrow. “Uh, maybe, I’m not sure, why?”

“Abby never wore jewelry unless it was from you or Jerry.” Ellie gave you the same confused look. “Why? What is that big head of yours thinking?”

“Nah, s’nothing, was just wondering,” You shook them off and scrambled the paper between your hands. “Something just feels off and I can’t explain it no matter how much I think.”

“Jerry still has all those pictures we took, maybe we can start there this time, see if anything jumps out at you?” Jesse suggested this time.

“Wha— You?” Ellie scoffed.

“Abby is my friend too, Ellie.”

“And yet you’ve never taken the time to visit us or Jerry since she went missing, shocker, Jesse.”

“Guys, enough,” You pinched the bridge of your nose harshly and sighed deeply. “Let’s just go see Jerry for the pictures.”

Jerry wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t changed anything in Abby’s bedroom. The wallpaper was still the yellow and sunflower she picked when she turned 16. The bed sheets were the same light blue with clouds that scattered around the fabric. Her mirror still had every Polaroid hung up from the multiple drunk nights you all had. “There’s still another box in the attic, I’ll get it for you.” Her Dad appeared in the doorway, looking at you all with a gentle smile. “Weird seeing all of you in her room after so long,” He chuckled and placed the box on her bed. “Can I get any of you something to eat or drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“M’alright, but thank you, Jerry.”

“Can I have a glass of water?”

“Really, Jesse?” Ellie glared. 

“What?! I’m thirsty.” Jesse glared back.

“I’ll get your drink and then grab the last box.” Jerry laughed at their bickering and left the room. 

“Right,” Ellie clasped her hands together and took refuge at Abby’s untouched desk. You could tell Jerry hadn’t touched anything there because the old music festival poster was still lying there on the oak. “Something that could help us.” She muttered to herself while you and Jesse were already opening the box. 

“I didn’t realize how many pictures we took when we were all together,” Jesse smiled fondly at the thought of seeing so many old memories between you all and instantly shoved his hand into the filled box and grabbed a handful of pictures.

“How many are there?” Ellie laughed from the other side of the room.

“More than Joel has of those vinyls, that’s for sure.” You chuckled.

“Old man is gonna be so jealous we have more pictures together than he has of his beloved music.” 

“Or you could find another that he doesn’t have yet, you know, being a good daughter to the old man seeing as he feeds you 4 times a day and takes care of you,” You suggested with a subtle smirk. “Just a little idea of what to get him for his birthday.”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna get him then?”

“Another jumper, what else?”

“You’ve given him over 10 since you met him!”

“Didn’t you steal 3 of my jumpers?” You quipped back, eyebrow rose and lips quirked up.

“You just— Your jumpers are comfy, okay!?”

“Oh I was just asking, you’re the one getting all defensive,” You teased before taking your handful of pictures. You don’t remember each time you took them, there were so many that it could go back years before you were even friends with Ellie or Jesse. There were more than enough to write an entire book; it seemed as you scanned over a couple. 

As you went to grab another set, seeing as the ones you picked didn’t really give you much, you had knocked over the pile that Jesse had already looked through, and sent them tumbling to the floor. Cursing under your breath, you rolled your eyes at yourself and sighed. “Shit,” You grumbled, placing the pile of photos on the bed before kneeling on the floor to grab the few that you knocked over. “Ellie, did you find anything?” 

“Nah, still nothing.” The Brunette sighed from the desk.

Picking up the abandoned photos, you quickly catch onto a slight glint and sparkle from the corner of your eye; furrowing your eyebrows, you push the pictures onto the bed with the others, and lean your head down more, looking under her bed. “What the—” Reaching towards whatever it was you thought you saw, you grabbed it, and your lips parted with a soft exhale.

A bracelet.

Holding it up, you inspected it closely. “What’s that?” Jesse spoke up as you noticed there were quite a few charms already missing. Did Abby hide them? Why was there only a few left, and the others were gone? “Is that Abby’s?”

Ellie had quickly snatched it from your hands, which caused you to almost stumble onto the floor at her abrupt movement, held the bracelet up and looked at it. “I’ve only seen this once,”

“So It’s hers?”

“I assume so, I saw her with it on her 16th birthday,” Ellie nodded and took a seat in the middle of Abby’s bed with her legs crossed. “I’ve only seen her with it on once, and I mean, you guys should know that too seeing as you got her the fuckin’ thing, Y/N”

Did you? Then why couldn’t you remember? 

“How don’t you remember?” Jesse laughed and slapped the back of your head gently. “Can we just talk about the fact she wore all of your clothes? She wouldn’t go out unless you were going, nor would she go to any of the parties here unless you were with her? You were both obsessed with each other. You bought it for her, or made it for her, should I say.”

“Made it?” You choked out, looking over at the bracelet that was still in Ellie’s hands. “I don’t—”

“It’s been hard for all of us, but more so for you,” Ellie admitted quietly and smiled sadly. “Abs was closer to you than the rest of us. We can all understand that this is something you don’t remember because you’re too busy blaming yourself.”

“That’s not—”

“Y/N, you’ve been blaming yourself the second the missing posters went up,” Jesse spoke, sitting beside Ellie on the bed. “Every day since then you’ve blamed yourself,and  you’re still blaming yourself, right now, I just know your head is going through the cycle It’s been going through for the past god knows how many years.”

“But why don’t I remember making her that? Why?”

“Because you’re blocking it out,” Jerry spoke up. “You’re blocking out all the memories because you’re scared.”

“M’not scared—”

Planting the final box on the floor, Jerry crouches beside you and places his hand comfortingly on your shoulder. “You’re blocking them out because you’re scared. You’ve been blocking them out because you’re blaming yourself, and maybe if you block them out, it won’t hurt you as much—”

“Hurt me,” You scoffed and shrugged his hand off your shoulder as you stumbled to your feet. “Won’t hurt me as much. M’not ready to let her go, is that better for you? Maybe if I keep my memories locked away, I’ll have more time to make new ones when she comes home. I know this is fucking hard for all of us, for you, but it is killing me—” You paused to take a deep breath, ignoring the worried looks on all of them. “It’s fucking killing me going through fucking photos, asking people around the fucking village, trying to figure out what happened when she’s fucking alone, all alone and I don’t know where she is. This is pointless, all of this is pointless because Abby means more to me than some pictures! I’m here looking at fucking pictures while the girl I love is somewhere out there, fucking scared and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t promise you anything, I can’t promise no one anything”

“Y/N—” Jerry frowned as he rose to his feet and cupped your face gently between his hands. “You’re looking for her,” He murmured with a soft smile. “You’re doing something, and you’re doing a better job than the so-called professionals.”

“I can’t even figure out who she argued with, I haven’t done anything.” You choked out, body falling into his as he wrapped his arm around you and cupped the back of your head. “I need her back, I just want her back.”

“I have faith. With you both, I always have.” Jerry smiled. 

You weren’t sure what happened after your small breakdown, all you know is that you’re still sitting in Abby’s bedroom 5 hours later. Still sifting through endless pictures, notes, journals, anything to give you a hint of something. Was Abby afraid of someone? Why was she arguing? Who was she arguing with? You had so many questions and yet you felt like you had so little time to get everything. “This is the second time she’s yelled at me, what did I do wrong?” Ellie, who was hunched over the desk, mumbled as your eyes locked onto her back.

“Ellie? Who yelled at you?” You asked, sitting up slowly.

“What? No, It’s a diary entry in Abby’s journal,” She turned around, made her way over to you, climbed onto the bed, and slumped beside you. “Look,” Ellie passed you the book, onto the page she was reading and you furrowed your eyebrows when you saw it.

“Who yelled at her?” You took the journal from her hand and skimmed through more of the pages, ones you assume Ellie has yet to read through. Jesse left not that long ago, muttering apologies but his parents wanted him to help with dinner. 

The more you flipped through, the more you noticed.

Sunday, 2nd May 2015.

I think she hates me. I’m not sure what I did for her to hate me, but apparently I must have done something.

Sunday, 2nd May 2015.

She threatened me today. I haven’t stopped crying. I don’t know why she hates me.

Monday, 3rd May 2015.

It’s getting harder and harder to look at her and tell her I’m fine. It’s breaking my heart and I can’t even talk to her about it. 

“Obviously the last one has to be about you. So something happened and she couldn’t even talk to you about it, I assume?” Ellie slumped her head on your shoulder and grumbled. “Is there anything else? To just give us a timeline for however long this went on for?”

“That was the last one,” You closed the book and placed it on your lap with another long sigh. “Abby never told Jerry anything, so I doubt talking to him about this is going to do much.”

“So, over the past god knows how many weeks we’ve been doing this, we’ve found out that someone was on Abby’s case, who, that’s still another thing we need to figure out,” Ellie explained, nervously fumbling with the ring on her finger.

“I wish she would have spoken to me, I could have done something, kept her even safer,” You felt worse now than you did earlier, reading those journal entries made your heart sink. Your best friend, the girl you were in love with, was going through something she felt like she couldn’t even talk to you about. 

“Abby would hate that you’re blaming yourself,” Ellie frowned, curling into your side and rubbing her nose. “You know that she would never let you think that about yourself, it will kill her to know you’re blaming everything on yourself, still.”

“I always promised I would keep her safe, and I couldn’t even do that. If I did, she would still be here, she wouldn’t be missing, El.”

“When we find her, m’going to ask her for permission to punch you—”

“Why?!” You cut her off, outraged and shocked at her words.

“Because then maybe you’ll stop blaming yourself for this, for everything that’s happened.” 

You’re sitting at the bar the next evening when it happens, minding your own business as you wait for Jesse and Ellie, when a guy, a gruff guy walks up to you; slightly drunk and smoking a cigarette, when he bumps into your shoulder and scowls. “Heard you and your little friends are looking for that girl,” He hiccups, the stench of his beer breath has your stomach churning and nose scrunching up at the smell.

“Fucks it to you?”

“She’s been gone for years, no chance she’s gonna turn up now, no?” His laugh made your skin crawl and you didn’t know if you wanted to smash his beer bottle over his head or break his jaw. Maybe both, it would be easier for him to stop talking to you. “I don’t know why you try, she was a lost cause years before she disappeared.”

“You don’t even know her, shut your fuckin’ mouth.” You warned, standing up slowly. You towered over him by a few more inches, and half expected him to cower away, most people did, but he didn’t, he just laughed harder, taking constant drags of his cigarette and looked you up and down. “M’not afraid to shove that bottle down your throat, now fuck off.” Your face was now in his, and the smell of beer smelt worse if that was even possible.

“Oh yeah? The fuck you gonna do? Shove this bottle down my throat? Your threats are empty and pointless, like your search for your little fuckin’ girlfriend—”

“Say one more thing about her, I dare you.”

Before you can go through with your promise, a hand grabs your arm and pulls you away. “He’s not worth it, just let it go.” Ellie, who you hadn’t even noticed arrived, murmured into your ear and dragged you away from the smiling man. “Fighting someone isn’t worth it when we have someone more important to find, okay?”

“Stupid cunt.” You growled at him, letting Ellie drag you out of the bar and into the open air. “Could have just let me throttle the bastard or something.”

“And risk you getting into trouble when Abby is waiting for you?” Jesse spoke up and pushed himself off the wall. 

Just her name has you relaxing in your spot and nodding to yourself slowly. Abby was waiting for you, wherever that might be, she was. No matter how long it takes, you’re going to be the one to save the woman you love. All you have is hope. Pulling out your small box of cigarettes along with your lighter, you shove one between your lips, lighting it up and taking a long drag. “So, the notes, the bracelet, what’s next?” You mumbled between puffs. 

“Are you chain smoking?” Ellie laughed with a subtle scoff. 

“Give me a break, I haven’t slept properly in years,” You rolled your eyes and slumped your head on Jesse’s shoulder. “What’s next?” You asked again. 

As Ellie went to open her mouth, Mandy appeared outside the small shop beside the bar, looking over at you and waving quickly. “Y/N!” And before you knew it, she was already standing in front of you before you had the time to register what was going on. “Are you free tonight?”

Coughing on your cigarette, Jesse slapped your back and laughed softly while you cleared your throat and smiled painfully at her. “Tonight? Uhm m’not sure, why?” 

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over and have dinner with me?”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, silly, I said tonight didn’t I?”

You could see Ellie rolling her eyes beside you from the corner of your eyes, and as much as you wanted to say no, maybe saying yes might help your case. You could try and find something else about Abby, maybe Mandy might have seen someone being rude or mean to Abby when you weren’t around. “Yeah, sure!” You agreed, a little too enthusiastically for your liking. 

“What?!” Ellie shouted. 

“Oh really? That would be wonderful, how’s 7?”

“7 is great, Mandy”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ellie whisper-yelled once Mandy walked away and was so far away that she couldn’t hear you guys. “Are you fucked in the head or something?”

“Relax, If It’s just me with her, she might know something and tell me.”

Eyeing you up closely, she simply sighs and slaps your back gently. “Make sure you text or call if she starts to freak you out too much.”

“Or if she tries to kiss you again,” Jesse added with a snicker. 

“You guys are so funny, seriously, should become comedians or something.” You took another drag of your cigarette and glared at them both.

“And never be able to see your angelic face again? How would I survive?” Ellie gasped dramatically and grinned. “No but seriously, don’t give into her weirdness. Remember, only anything to do with Abby, got it?”

“Yes mom,” You huffed while Ellie simply pinched your arm and laughed at your scowl. “We have time to kill until then though. Any idea on who threatened her? I keep thinking but no one comes to mind.”

“No fuckin’ idea, Abby had her secrets, ones she didn’t tell us about, but if it risked her like, m’sure she would have told one of us right? She wouldn’t just hide it until something like this happened?” 

“None of us knew this was going to happen, let alone Abby knowing,” You murmured, using your shoe to put out the cigarette you dropped on the floor once you were done with it. “Abby used to have multiple journals, were the others not in there?”

“Not that I saw, she probably kept there somewhere else. Journals aren’t supposed to be snooped in, hiding it is what I would have done if I had one.”

“So you’re saying we look in her room again?”

“Worth a try, might find something else.”

Abby’s Dad didn’t mind that you were once again sitting in her bedroom, it was something you all did when you were younger; Abby’s house being the one that everyone hung out in the most, so changing that routine now would be pointless. 

Looking through the endless supply of books in her bookshelf, you bite back another sigh when you placed yet another back, still not finding anything that could be of use or even a fuckin’ clue, and turning around. Ellie was sitting cross-legged on the floor at the end of the bed, going through the journals you both looked through last night, and with the sigh she lets out when she throws her head back, you know it’s another deadend. 

“Nothing, again.”

Sitting down beside her, you take the journal from her hands, your fingers brush against the words, even her words were somewhat comforting to you. As you fumbled with the pages, you were suddenly intrigued with what Ellie was doing; Reading notes you all used to write for each other if one of you had gotten into trouble with your parents, and weren’t allowed to leave the house. “Abby never got in trouble, like ever,” She laughed.

“Because we never told Jerry about the other shit,” You snickered, the memory of Abby trying weed for the first time, and her Dad freaking out when you both arrived home, slightly buzzed out your minds, trying to act normal. “He knows about most of the weed stories, but not the insane shit we used to get up to as kids.”

“We were fuckin’ crazy, weren’t we?”

“Oh, we should have been shipped off to the ward for the shit we did.”

“Remember Brenda thinking she had rats in the shop? But it was just us making it seem like she was going crazy?”

“I still regret that, I wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t give me 4 joints before,” You threw your head back and laughed. Your laughter died down quite quickly when you brushed your thumb against the edge of the page, a sharp pain shooting through your hand. “Shit! Ow.”

“Fuck you do?”

“Paper cut,” You grumbled and looked down at your small wound.

Only for your eyes to widen at the slight kink in the paper.

“Ellie”

“Did you know that Abby used to call you butterfly?” Ellie, oblivious to your stare, laughed.

“Ellie” You repeated, louder this time.

“What?”

Turning to face you, her eyes land on the paper instead of your face, and the letters fall from between her fingers once you’re peeling apart two pieces that had somewhat been glued together. 

“Typical Abby, fair play,” Ellie murmured once you pushed the two pieces apart.

A whole new entry. 

Tuesday, 4th May 2015

I can feel her. She’s everywhere. She’s told me to back off, but what do I say when she notices I’m pulling away? I can’t even smile at her without it being a problem. What if she kills me? She’s crazy, I don’t think anyone understands. I tried to keep her away, but she’s clawing her way into everything and tearing things apart. At night, I can see her outside the window, looking at me, smiling at me, looking at me like she wants to kill me. Who do I tell? Who can I go to without making it a big issue? Is she really capable of killing me? Making me disappear? 

What if she kills me?

What if she does?

What if this is the last time I’ll see my friends, my dad, my journals?

What……………….

Closing the book quickly, Ellie flinches beside you at the force, and you pinch the bridge of your nose. “This is getting fuckin’ weird.” You admitted. “I’m going to kill whoever it is.”

“Let’s not jump to those conclusions just yet, is there anything else?”

“No, it’s the only page we haven’t seen. So it’s a woman, a woman was the last person to see her, right? That’s gotta be the only reason right now. We have nothing else and if there is other stuff, we’re fuckin’ missing it.”

“I can look through everything again when you’re with that crazy one, see if we missed anything. I don’t mind drinking another black coffee, some energy drinks and staying awake all night.” Ellie joked.

“I don’t mind going through it all again with you when I get back. We’re still meeting up later, yeah?”

“If she doesn’t somehow kidnap you and trick you into dating you, yeah.” 

6:45pm rolled around quickly and you found yourself standing outside of Mandy’s house, one hand shoved in your jacket pocket while the other was at your side, and patiently waiting. Just as you were about to knock a second time, the door swung open to reveal a very happy Mandy, smile so wide you could see her teeth. “You made it!”

“Course,” You laughed, digging your hand deeper into your pocket. “Sorry m’early,”

“Don’t worry, earlier the better! Come in, it’s cold out here tonight,” 

Stepping aside to let you in, Mandy’s hand brushes against yours as you walk past her and into her warmer house, oblivious to the way her eyes raked over you, almost a little too desperately. “The food is in the oven, should be ready soon, can I take your jacket?”

“Nah, you’re alright, It’s freezing out there, gotta warm myself up a little.” You smiled, eyes instantly noticing just how neatly the table was set. The candles flickered almost angrily, the cutlery placed perfectly, and the tablecloth somehow matched everything. “This is nice,”

“Yes, isn’t it? I wanted it to be perfect for you.” Mandy commented softly. “I’m just going to check on the food, feel free to take a seat, get yourself comfortable and stuff, I won’t be long.”

“Take your time.”

Just as you sat down at her table, a sudden loud banging had you flinching in your seat. You looked over at Mandy who halted in her steps not even 5 minutes later when she reappeared from the kitchen and from where you were sitting you could see and hear her grinding her teeth together. “What was that?” 

“The neighbors are probably decorating again, It’s starting to get on my nerves If I’m being honest.”

“At 7:30?” You laughed nervously.

“They have no consideration for those who live beside them. I’ll start giving them a piece of my mind If they keep it up,” She explained, placing the hot pot in the middle of the table with a bright and wide smile. “There! Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Juice? Wine?”

“Smells amazing,” You smiled and got a little more comfortable in your seat before looking at her again. “Water’s fine, thank you.”

“It’s my Mother’s recipe, nothing beats a homemade meal,” Mandy’s smile never left her face, not even when you quickly dug into the fresh meal. “I’ll be back with your water.”

You were almost done with half of your food by the time she came back with a fresh glass of water, and you looked at her with a thankful smile when she placed it beside your plate. “Thank you,” You mumbled before furrowing your eyebrows. “Sorry, that’s gross.”

“No, no it’s cute, don’t worry.” She giggled, sitting in her own chair. 

As she started digging into her meal, her eyes would flutter over at you, but you seem really into whatever it was that she made to notice the subtle flirtatious eyes she was making at you. It was delicious, and you loved food, so you couldn’t complain now could you? “This is really good,” You mumbled between chews. 

“I’ll thank my mother for you when I see her again.” Mandy smiled.

“You might want to give me the recipe, it’s so good.”

“As much as I like you, I can’t do that, family recipe.” She smirked widely. 

Mandy continued to eat her food, little moans of delight falling from her mouth with each bite she took, while you were suddenly falling into your own world. Mandy hadn’t seemed to notice you had stopped replying to what she was asking you, or just wanted to get the food out of the way before she continued. Either way, it didn’t seem to affect her much. All you could seriously think about was Abby, hoping that she had some source of something to keep her hoping and until you could find her. 

“Are you okay? You’ve gone quiet,” Mandy murmured finally, finishing the final piece of her food. “Is it the food? Is it not sitting right with you?”

“No! No the food was amazing, m’just thinking, nothing to worry about.”

“Worried about what?”

“Just worried about Abby is all, like I said, nothing to worry about.” You smiled and wiped your face with the napkin you had on your lap. 

You hadn’t noticed the way the smile on her face dropped and just stared at you. “Were you close? You and Abby?” She asked.

“Since we were babies pretty much,” 

“That’s nice, nice to have someone close to you and that you can trust, I suppose.” Her voice suddenly got a little quieter, and nursed her glass of wine. “How do you know she didn’t just leave willingly?”

“Abby wouldn’t have left Jerry without a reason, she wouldn’t have left us, left me, without a reason.” You frowned, eyes focused on the empty plate before you. “She’s not the type of person to run away. Even when things are hard, she comes to me for help and she didn’t—”

“Was she in trouble?”

“Someone didn’t like her, threatened her, and I didn’t even know. If she told me, I could have helped her, kept her safe.”

“S’not your job to protect everyone,” Mandy smiled softly, watching you closely. “You know that right? You can’t save everyone, especially if they can’t even save themselves.” Her fingers graze yours on the top of the table, you weren’t even sure how or when she moved hers but when you felt them against yours, your eyes locked with hers. “Maybe Abby left because there are better things out there for her, or maybe she just wanted to see something new.”

“Without me?” The crack in your voice was evident. 

“Anyone can leave if they truly need to or want to,” Her fingers continued to brush against yours with each word and you couldn’t even move. “People expect so much from people around here, we’re all trying to live, find someone, and get on with our lives, and sometimes that can be too much for one person to handle. Maybe Abby didn’t want to burden you with a thought she might have had.”

“Her burdens are mine,” You murmured. “Whatever she deals with, we deal with it together.”

Her hand retracted from yours quickly, once again you didn’t notice the scowl on her face, and grabbed your plate from in front of you as well as her own before making her way into the kitchen. “Would you like some dessert?” She asked, abandoning the conversation altogether.

“Oh, uh, sure?”

The light above flickered, making a soft buzzing sound as the room felt colder again. Sunlight wasn’t a luxury anymore, even if it was so desperately needed. Mold has started coming in quicker than before. Even the eerie darkness is something straight out of a nightmare. The only thing in the room that was noticeable was the small lamp on the floor, but even that wasn’t bright enough. It never was. 

By the time Mandy came back with two bowls in her hands, you were standing by the bookshelf, running your fingers over the spines of what you can already tell are very old books. “Didn’t know you liked to read books?” You asked, looking over at her.

“Oh yeah! I love books, mostly the classics, but the thriller ones are my favorite. Could read them all day. I actually have to return those to Brenda soon, had them way too long.” She giggled and placed the bowls on the table. “What is your favorite?”

“The Shining.” 

“Haven’t read it before, do you have a copy I could borrow?”

“Yeah sure, I’ll find it and give It to you.”

“Perfect, let’s eat dessert!”

“Glad you’re back in one piece,” Ellie was the first to comment when she noticed you walking into the bar an hour later. “Didn’t try to shove her tongue down your throat this time?” 

“Like you tried with Abby that one time you got drunk?” You quipped back with a lazy grin and slumped into the chair beside her. “Nah, she just kept touching my hand, not trying to kiss me this time.”

“Oh? Are you lovebirds now?”

“Knock it off, El.” Jesse laughed and continued to sip his beer.

“No, you imbecile, she did get weird whenever I spoke about Abby though,” You shrugged, pinching some of Ellie’s chips. “Like, she just got up and went to get dessert?”

“She’s always been weird, so fuckin’ obsessed with you for a start.” It was Jesse this time. 

“Really? I never got that vibe before,”

“You wouldn’t, you’re like so fucking oblivious to most shit,” Ellie snorted. “You didn’t even realize I  was flirting with you when I first met you. Took you 4 months to say, Ellie, were you asking me on a date that one time? Oblivious.”

“In my defense, you fuckin’ flirt with everyone,” You defended with a soft laugh, and eyed up the pictures on the table. “What are you guys doing anyway?”

“Well, while you and Barbie were having your little date, me and Jesse were going through the rest of the pictures. Nothing has jumped out yet, but I do have a feeling something will point us in the right direction this time.”

“Right, pass us some then,” 

“Of course your majesty.”

“Fuck off, man,” You snickered and snatched the pile from her hand. “Oh, you know the family that lives beside Mandy?”

“Huh? Beside Mandy?”

“Yeah, the family that lives next door?”

“No one has lived in that house for like 4 years,” Ellie blinked, confusion written all over her face.

“Oh, she said they were decorating or something earlier, there was banging and that’s what she told me.” 

“Joel knows more than me about anyone, I’ll ask him later, see if anyone’s moved in since the other family,” Ellie promised with a tired smile.

“Thanks, El,” A chip that you flicked hit her in the chin and you held back a laugh when her eyes widened and she suddenly scowled at you. “Sorry, you looked like you needed something to cheer you up. Did you sleep much last night?” 

“A few hours, better than none, right?” The smile she gave you didn’t reach her face. Everyone is like that lately and you sadly understood why. The community wasn’t exactly whole right now. 

“Want to watch a movie tonight?” You suggested as you ate some more chips.

“What one?”

“Uhm, you pick, I don’t mind which one.”

“Don’t wanna freak anyone out or anything,”

“What is it?”

“There’s someone in the background of the picture you and Abby took the night before, well, you know, you can’t see much but It’s someone for sure,” Jesse mumbled and slid the picture over to you. 

The background is blurry, you notice that much at first but as you squint your eyes just a little more, a black silhouette is something you can pick out. Standing behind what you can only assume Is one of the trees just across the ways of the pond both you and Abby spent a lot of time at. “It’s too dark, I can’t fucking pick out who it is,” You huffed. “Do you think It might be who threatened her?”

“And risk getting caught when she’s with you? Knowing damn well you’d knock their teeth out?” Ellie laughed.

“Anything’s possible, El.”

“Let’s say this is them, how do we find out who it is?”

“Could host a small get-together tomorrow night here, remembering Abby or something, and we all write something for her, see if someone slips up and exposes themselves?” Jesse suggests, looking between you and Ellie. 

“It could work,” Both you and Ellie answered at the same time. “But how would we know who it is if they turn up and say something bad?”

“No idea, but we’ll figure it out as we go. Haven’t we always done that?” He smiled and pushed the rest of the pictures which were of no use back into the box before putting the lid on. “We’ve always had each other's back, that’s not going to change.” 

“I’ll do whatever It takes If It means we’re one step closer to finding Abby.” You agreed. 

“Alright, you’ve pulled my leg, I’m in too.” Ellie dramatically huffed but the smile on her lips gave her away. “Let’s watch that sappy romance movie,”

“Which one?”

“Abby’s favorite.”

“You, Ellie Williams, want to watch Love Actually? Willingly?”

“Why are you saying my name like that?! Yes, let’s watch it.” She scoffed and slapped the back of your head when she stood up. “Besides, you and Abby can bully me all you want for wanting to watch it when she’s back with us.” 

“She’ll never let you live it down, you know what right?”

“Yeah, but It’s worth It, she is too.” Ellie winked. 

—

The following evening dawned on you quicker than you would have liked. All of you were on edge. The picture, the missing charms, the truth that someone didn’t like Abby had you, Ellie and Jesse looking around the bar with caution. 

The remembrance of Abby had the all clear, everyone helped and chipped in where they could. Jerry was over the moon when you told him that you guys were doing this for her. Maybe in hopes that it would bring you one step closer, or maybe one step closer to her coming home.   

Thursday, 6th June 2015 

“Abby, you look beautiful, why are you panicking?” Abby was sitting on the edge of her bed, fumbling with her bracelet yet not looking at you. “Hey, Abs, what’s up?” You crouched in front of her and took her hands into yours with a soft smile.

“I don’t feel beautiful,” She admitted sadly.

“Oh, Abby, you are beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful, your soul is perfect and stunning. You are the most beautiful person in the world. Your hair is beautiful, your smile is beautiful, your pretty eyes are stunning,” Her sniffle caused you to pause, reach your hand up and wipe it away. “Everything about you is beautiful.”

“Really?”

Cupping her face between your hands, you press you lips against her forehead and smile. “Yes, really, you are so fuckin’ beautiful.” You whispered into her skin. “I promise, love.”

How could you not see the pain she was holding back, behind the little glint in her eye?

“To Abby!”

Jerry’s voice brought you back to reality, smiled at everyone who raised a glass in her honor and nodded to himself as he walked down the small steps. “Thank you for coming,” He murmured to a few of the older couples who gave him a gentle hug and a soft reassurance. “I know that Abby would have loved to see you guys together again.” 

On edge, you looked around the bar slowly, trying to pick out anyone that was acting weird or unusually suspicious. That’s how you looked at most people these days, picking them out one by one, wondering if they had done or said anything to Abby the night she vanished. You spotted Ellie doing the same on the other side of the room, taking small unsuspicious glances at everyone who came in and left. “Here,”

To your left, Jesse was holding a beer towards you, which you took with a soft thank you, and leaned against the wall with you. “Anyone catch your eye yet?”

“Not yet, everyone seems to be kind, and talking to Jerry, cheering him up and stuff,” You mumbled between sips, eyes still moving around as each person moves around before you. “I don’t think they would hide, we know most people here, if anyone’s missing, we’ll know.”

“And if they do choose to miss something that is important to the community, then they are hiding something.” Jesse added. 

“Exactly, I don’t think they’re stupid enough to let it slip, know that we know something.”

“Did that guy who told you she was arguing with someone tell you anything else or?”

“Deadend, he just smiles at me all weird like now when I see him.” You grimaced and took a big gulp of your beer. 

“It’s that friendly smile you have.”

“Eat a dick.” You laughed.

In the middle of the bar, there was a box, which gave people to write notes, poems, or even just one word, so that when Abby did come back home, she would have kind things to read, and hopefully it would be able to cheer everyone else up when they read a few of them nearing the end of the night. You thought the idea was a good one when Jerry asked you about it this morning. He enjoyed having your input when it came to his daughter. 

You wrote something simple, not overdone, but a little i miss you and i love you more than anything. It meant more than anything, Abby would know that if she was here right now, reading them. You always noticed the way she would blush and look away when you would tell her you love her before you either hung up after being on a phone call with her for hours, or even when you left her house. “I love you.” You murmured, folded the piece of paper and pressed you lips to it. 

Ellie smiled from across the room.

She always found it amusing it took you years to know you were indeed madly in love with your best friend. 

“Hey,”

You almost gave yourself whiplash with how fast you turned around to find Dina looking at you and nervously fumbling with her fingers. “Dina, hey,” You smiled awkwardly. 

“Do you hate me? It would make sense if you did, with how I pulled away from you all, but with Abby going missing, I just got scared, and being around you guys made me miss her so much.” Dina rushed out.

“I don’t hate you,” You reassured her quietly. “I understand though, it’s okay, we all deal with it differently, but I don’t hate you, none of us do.”

“Is Ellie okay?” She asked hesitantly.

“I don’t think so, but she’s getting there,” You admitted truthfully. “You should talk to her.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward?”

“Nothing’s awkward unless you make it awkward.” You winked with a soft laugh.

“Right, I’ll go and see her, if she starts freaking out, you should probably come over or something.” Dina smiled.

“Will do.”

If it wasn’t for the fact you were already looking at Ellie, you would have had a stroke when you heard the loud crashing of her falling off the chair when she noticed Dina making her way towards her. Snorting under your breath, you shook your head, pushed yourself off the wall and made a beeline straight for the beer. “Usual?” Elaine, the older woman who took over the bar after her husband passed, smiled when you were quick to nod and slump yourself against the counter. “You look tired, you sleepin’?”

“When I can, which isn’t much,” You mumbled softly with a subtle shrug. “But what can you do? Sleep is the last thing I need right now.”

“Maybe you need just a little bit to find her.”

Pushing the beer into your direction, she laughed at the way your lips parted as you grabbed it; ready to ask her how she knew. “Jerry told me earlier when he came here to set up. It’s a good thing, you know? Abby adored you, and I know how much you care about her.”

“I seem to be getting nowhere when I feel like m’finally getting somewhere.”

“There’s more out there than meets the eye, Honey,” Elaine smiled. “You just have to look closer.”

“What do you—”

“Y/N?” Jerry called out.

God fucking damn it.

At his voice, you turn your body slightly, almost stiffly and raise an eyebrow at him. You quietly excuse yourself from the conversation you got yourself into with Elaine when he waved you over, and took a couple of strides towards him, placing your almost empty bottle of beer on the table beside you. “What’s up?”

“I was just going through some of the notes, you know, the ones people left for Abs, and I found this. What does it mean?” He explained, slightly rushed and shoved a piece of paper into your hands with worry written all over his face. “Did someone hurt her? Take her from me? Why?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you look down at the slip of paper in your hands, looking back up at him confused. “What is it?” 

“Read it, It’ll make more sense if you see it.”

Doing as you’re told, you don’t have time to acknowledge the small fact that your hands start to tremble as you unfold the little note with caution. Your lips part, body tensing as your eyes widen as you read over the note slowly. Not fully understanding. “Someone put this here?” You asked, voice cracking. “When?”

“I’m not sure, so many people have been leaving notes. I wouldn’t have been able to catch who.” Jerry shook his head, and gripped the edge of the table tightly. “If someone’s hurt her, m’gonna kill them. M’gonna kill them, Y/N”

“Not before us,” You murmured, already looking around the room. “Who was in charge of the box?”

“Me, and a couple of others, but this is the only bad one.”

“You’ve looked at the rest?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, put it somewhere else, out of sight from everyone. If this is the only bad one, then it’s possible they’re just trying to scare us, making up a lie about what’s happened to her. She’s fine, okay? Abby is strong, and we’re gonna find her.” You nodded. You weren’t sure who you were trying to reassure more, you or Jerry? Both of you? The whole town?

“What are you going to do?” He blinked.

“Figure it out. That’s what m’gonna do.”

The night rushed along slowly as you, and a bunch of others made your way out of the bar, cigarette hanging between your lips and a cold beer in your hands. The note played on your mind angrily, eating and chewing away at your brain, almost trying to claw its way out of your head as you inhaled hit after hit of your cigarette. Who here hates Abby enough to hurt her? Take her away? She was nice to everyone, always offering to help someone who needed it, never letting the older people carry stuff too heavy, Abby wouldn’t hurt a fly, so why would they feel the need to hurt her? Take her away from where she loves? From the people she adores? It doesn't make sense. 

The longer you stood there, practically taking Ellie’s thought into consideration, pulling out cigarette after cigarette, the darkness seemed to loom and lurk more creepy than any other night. Almost like it was mocking you, judging you from afar as you tried to wrap your head around everything. Even the journal pages still don’t make sense to you and it’s been over a week since the first. It’s like she left, and suddenly you’re trying to figure out a really fucked up riddle in order to get you prize, the prize being Abby once everything slots into place like a puzzle.

“Let’s get you home, Honey. Night time around here has become a little scarier than before.” You spot a mother wrapping her daughter up on her scarf and jacket before holding onto her hand tightly after she places a kiss on her forehead. “Stay close to Mommy and you’ll be okay, alright?”

You wish Abby stayed close to you. 

You watch the family walk away down the path, the lights casting a shadow around them. Like a possessed child, the shadow like a demon hanging on by a thread as they were no longer in your peripheral each step they took until they were around the corner. Gone just like Abby. 

As you dropped your cigarette on the ground, you caught something behind one of the trees when you looked back up, lurking in the darkness and your body suddenly tensed on the spot. Did Abby feel like this? Did she feel like her entire soul left her body when she knew someone was watching her? Following her? 

“Hey!” You shouted, dropping your bottle in the process as you walked over to them, or trying to. It seemed like you had slightly spooked them, not aware you were staring right at them. “Hey!” This time you started running as you saw the rustle of the leaves, the snapping of twigs under their feet. “Stop running away!” You called out, pushing the branches out of your way. 

Were you really doing this right now? Running after someone who could easily just kill you?

In your eyes, you could see the outline of their figure under the moonlight, shimming between trees, jumping over tree’s that’ve been left to fend for themselves over the years, and even though the pain and burn in your legs were starting to ache more and more the longer you ran after them, you couldn’t stop. You needed to do this no matter the outcome. “Stop running away from me!” You shouted, jumping over the same tree as they did. “I just want to talk! That’s all! Stop fuckin’ running!” You huffed.

You didn’t see the branch hanging in front of you, or the rock on the floor, not until tripped, your face smacked into the branch harshly and landed on the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck,” You groaned, cupping your nose quickly with a wince. “Fuck!” You yelled, spitting out the dirt. 

Rolling yourself over slowly, you puffed out a sigh as your eyes fluttered open; the midnight sky lurked down at you, almost inviting it to eat you whole. If it could reach out and grab you, you would be the darkness’s first victim. The chitter of insects in between the long grass had your ears perking up as you sat up. Cupping the back of your head, you hissed and screwed your eyes shut tightly and pulled yourself up off the floor. 

Looking around, even though it was no use and they were probably gone already, you stumbled towards one of the trees and leaned against it tiredly. But all things turn you angry at some point. 

All you could really think about the fact you still hadn’t found Abby the longer you slumped yourself there, and that was enough to anger you enough until you repeatedly punched at the oak, over and over again until your knuckles were completely red, bits of wood stuck in your skin, but you didn’t care, if you don’t have Abby, what was the point?

“Fuck you!” Your scream echoed eerily.

The flap of bird wings rang out loudly around you.

It took you an hour to trek back to the town. You held your hand against your chest, your nose stung like a bitch but this was the last thing on your mind as you stumbled your way through the crowds of drunk people, not giving you a single glance or worrying about the fact your nose was still bleeding, you probably broke a few knuckles. “Jess, have you seen Y/N?” You heard Ellie’s voice but couldn’t see her. 

“Y/N? No, I haven’t seen her for a couple hours, now that I’m thinking about it.” 

“Shit, alright, uhm,” 

The sound of loud crashing caused both of them to look straight at you as you stumbled over one of the tables. “I think we found her?” Jesse laughed.

“Shit, Y/N?” Ellie’s eyes widened at the sight of your bloody nose and rushed over to your side; not before watching you struggle 4 times to stand on your feet. “Fuck, what the fuck happened to you?” She scoffed, pulling you up carefully.

“Someone,” You groaned and slumped your head against her shoulder. “Someone was watching, through the trees, ran after them but hit my head, broke my nose, I think? And then I lost them, so I punched a tree, I think my knuckles are broken.” You explained with a slight slur in your voice. “But m’fine, just need to sit down for a second.”

“That’s a lot of I thinks, we can’t leave you alone for five fuckin’ minutes.” Ellie muttered under her breath and wrapped her arm around your waist tightly. “Let’s get you to mine, Joel’s out with Tommy so he won’t ask questions.” 

With the help of her and Jesse, you made it to Ellie’s house in one piece, well minus your dignity that the tree smacked out of you, but you still made it without another fall. They had managed to patch up your knuckles, and stopped the bleeding of your nose, ignoring every curse and wince that fell from between your bloody lips; telling you that it was your own fault for going without some kind of help or backup. “So who did you see?” Jesse asked, dropping the dirty rags in the bin and turning to face you again.

“I was drinking my beer, and then I saw someone behind the trees, if this is the same person who was watching Abby, I can tell you it would have freaked anyone out—”

“Says the one who ran after them.” Ellie scoffed from beside you.

“You were talkin’ to Dina, and Jesse was, well Jesse was where he usually goes, which is where? I don’t know.” You glared at the pair of them. “But m’here, no?”

“Luckily.” Ellie sighed and pulled the tissue from out of your nose carefully. “What if something else seriously bad happened to you? And no one was there to get you?”

“M’not going anywhere—”

“You don’t fuckin’ know that! You can’t just disappear without telling one of us. That’s not fair.”

The panic and worry in Ellie’s eyes is something you haven’t seen since Abby went missing. She didn’t talk about how she felt, but her eyes and face did, which is why your shoulder sagged and you nodded slowly. “I know, El, m’sorry, okay?” You smiled sadly.

“For what it’s worth, this whole look—” She pointed to your entire face with a laugh. “Is so worth it. M’gonna tell Abby you risked breaking your knuckles and nose for her.”

“And she’ll ignore me for a week—”

“A week? She will ignore you for a solid 5 seconds before she’s asking you to cuddle her.” Jesse laughed with a slow head shake. “Did you find anything else out? Minus the dumb injuries?”

“There’s one thing Jerry showed me.”

“What is it?”

Reaching into your back pocket with a quiet groan, you pulled the slip of paper out and handed it to Ellie, who was watching you closely. “That’s all that happened tonight.”

Unfolding it, exactly like you did earlier tonight, Ellie’s eyebrows furrow into a tight frown almost and nothing comes out of her mouth when opens it and instead she looks back at you with wide eyes. “This happened tonight?”

“Let me see,” Jesse held his hand out and took it from her. His eyes widen too. “How didn’t we notice? How many people were going to that box?”

“M’not sure.”

Does a domino effect really have to happen in my life? You thought.

Ellie, who’s usually the one to be the first to ask what’s next, doesn’t do that, instead she looks at you and frowns. “You need to rest, If Jesse has to leave, I can figure out what’s next for this sudden murder club search party, but you need to get some sleep, and I won’t take no for an answer. Got it?”

“El—”

“I said got it?”

Slumping against the bed, you simply nodded like a lost puppy and folded your arms over your chest, completely forgetting about your broken knuckles you winced. “Fine, but if you find anything, wake me up, yeah? Please?” 

“If you’re knocked out cold, then no, but I will if you aren’t.”

“The tree already knocked her out cold” Jesse chimed in with a sudden laugh.

“Both of you go fuck yourself!”

Brenda, poor woman was reading through one of her own books, jolted in her spot and looked up when the bell on the door rang, and held back a sigh at the sight of you and Ellie stumbling in through the small door with curses and grumbles. “Brenda! My favourite lady!”

“Ellie, may I remind you of the time you almost broke my window? we aren’t even acquaintances”

“I paid for it to be fixed, didn’t I?!” Ellie moaned and kicked the floor childishly. “Can we look at that book you keep when people loan or bring back books? We have something we want to compare,”

“For?”

“Just something we are working on, please? It’ll only take a couple minutes,” Your friend begged, leaned over the counter and pouted. “I will even ask Joel if he will take you on that date!”

“Date?! Excuse me—”

“You’re in love with Joel, do this for me, and then I’ll get you that date with him”

“Fine, but don’t knock anything over like last time, It took me an hour to fix everything.” She scowled and walked away. 

“You’re the best!” Ellie shouted after her. 

The flight flickered on, and the sounds of loud banging could wake anyone up, even the small insects that lurk in the long grass outside in the wilderness. “Need to take these back, hope you enjoyed those pathetic reads.” They mumbled, snatching the books from the dirty floor and scoffed. “Don’t understand what’s so special about them or you. Also, I can't afford to borrow anymore so this is the last of them for you.”

Just as fast it went on, the light was gone and it felt even colder once the door slammed shut. 

Hunching over the counter, Ellie spots the thick yet old book and grabs it with both hands, a soft grunt slipping past her lips before pulling it over the counter and dropping it on the oak, the loud bang causing you to flinch and flick her ear. “Ow!” 

“That’s for trying to give me a heart attack.” You scoffed and slapped her shoulder. “So this was your big plan? Look through the names until one stands out?”

“Yeah or until we find one that matches, I guess?”

“Brenda, I know i’m late with returning these books but— Hey!” Mandy halted in her steps mid way through the door when she spotted you and Ellie leaning on the counter, looking through something. “Loaning another book, Y/N?”

“Oh, no not today, just finding something for Joel.” You lied, Ellie almost snickering behind her hand at your blatant lie. “You read them already?”

“Oh yeah! I had some free time after you left last night, really enjoyed them” 

“What was your favourite?”

The question caught her off guard as her lips formed into a pout as she thought about it. “Uh, I really liked Pride and Prejudice, the others were boring but that one was amazing.”

No one in this town apart from me and Abby love that book. You thought.

“Ah, well m’glad you enjoyed it. Do you still want to borrow my copy of the shining?” 

Mandy chewed her inner cheek before nodding a little too quickly and smiled again. “Yeah, of course! Those stupid neighbors finally stopped decorating so I can probably get a night in to read some of it!”

“Mandy, hello Love.” Brenda appeared with a mug in her hand and a plate of biscuits. “Returning them already? That was fast.”

Placing the stack of books on the counter, Mandy simply gave her a warm smile, one that was slowly starting to creep you out, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can’t afford to borrow anymore for a while, my brain is fried with all the stories I’ve read this week.”

“No worries, Honey, just sign in the books you borrowed and they’ll be more for you next time when you do want to read again. Girls, can she use that for a second and then you can get back to whatever you were doing.”

“A date is on the line, Brenda, don’t rush me”

“I’ll rush you both out of that door,” Brenda smirked and the words died in throat once Ellie nodded her head quickly, picked up the book and practically shoved it in shocked Mandy’s hand with a stutter of words. “Thank you.”

“Do you have a pen I could borrow?”

Reaching for the one beside you, you hold it out towards her, which she takes with a soft thank you, places the book back on the counter and doodles her name onto the sheet of paper. “Thank you again, Brenda. You always have a really good selection of books!”

“You’re more than welcome, Love.”

“See you later, Y/N?”

“What’s happening later?” Ellie eyed her.

“It’s that party thing, dunno if m’going though,” You smile and shoved your hands into your pockets. “If I do, I assume you’re going?”

“Yes! The only time I get to be free and myself, I guess. So I’ll be there. If you do change your mind and come, I’ll see you there?”

“For sure.” Another tight lipped smile. 

Mandy took her leave not long after, leaving you and Ellie to your little search once more and Brenda took herself into a little corner of the shop to what you could only assume was to read one of her books. “Now that she’s gone,” Ellie trailed off.

Opening the book again, you brush your fingers down the list of people until it lands on hers; furrowing your eyebrows when you look at the book in front of you again, you lean your face closer and look at the signature a little longer, for far too long until you’re shoving your hand in your back pocket, rummaging around for the slip of paper you and Ellie took last night. “What are you doing?” Ellie laughed, watching you struggle.

Pride and Prejudice ………………………… Mandy ♡ 

“Look at her name,” You murmured, pulling the slip of paper out.

“Whos? Mandy’s?”

“The way she’s spelt it.”

Once you unfolded the paper, your eyes flickered between the slip between your fingers, and the name in the book, Ellie doing the same, having to lean over you. “Wait,” She paused, snatching it from you and taking a look for herself. 

Ellie looks at her name, and then at the note again;

ABBY DESERVED WHAT SHE GOT. ♡

“Did she just—”

“The fuckin’ heart, Ellie.”

“Wait, is she really that fucking insane?” Ellie looked at the slip still in shock. “Are you joking me? She’s been under our nose this entire time?”

“So, the banging I heard?”

“Wasn’t anyone fucking decorating that’s for sure.”

“Before we jump to conclusions, let’s just go get something to eat, m’starving, and go through what we have. Anyone could write hearts next to their name.”

“In the exact same way she does it? I doubt it.” Ellie murmured, tore the page out of the book quickly and stuffed it in her jacket pocket. Glaring at your stare. “What? Brenda won’t fuckin’ miss it.”

Shuffling out of the door, you and Ellie spot Mandy happily skipping away, and the sight has your friend scowling ad mumbling incoherently under her breath, “Why’s she so fuckin’ happy all the time? Has she never dealt with sadness or hurt in her life?” 

Nudging her shoulder with yours as you both walk, you shook your head. “Apparently not. Look at me, depressed as fuck.”

“Same,” Ellie looked at you before you both burst out into a laugh. “Man, if she’s somehow done anything to be the reason Abby went missing, m’gonna kill her. You know that right? I don’t care what you say, I’ll do it.”

“Ellie—”

“No, whoever took Abby from us, is going six feet under. You can’t stop me.”

“Let’s feed you, that monster is hungry—”

“Y/N, m’not joking, this isn’t a joke—”

“I know, and that’s what’s scaring me right now, Ellie.”

Pushing past you with a grumble at your words, Ellie’s quick to find a seat in the far corner, out of the way from people, and ushers you to hurry up. “I’ll be right with you, Honey, just have to get a few orders out of the way.” The old woman smiled from behind the counter.

“No worries!”

Unzipping your jacket, and placing it on the back of your chair, you sit down opposite Ellie and really look at her. She’s frowning, which means she’s deep in thought again, and that only means she’s planning something, something that you aren’t sure is supposed to scare you or make you happy. The bags under her eyes are much darker than they were last week, so that’s a clue she’s not been sleeping no matter how many times she’s told you she has been. Her lips are in a tight line. Even her smile lines are vanishing. “And then I think— Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” She mumbled, catching you staring. 

“S’nothing, you just look exhausted,” You offered a soft smile. “What are we eating?”

“I’ll just share with you, order whatever.”

Ellie was always a picky eater, well she says she is but always steals any of the food you make or buy, and went with something simple when it was your turn to order food; a bowl of chips, salsa and a chicken sandwich. “—And then we have the note, if that crazy psycho took the book out last week, then Abby’s alive, which means she has to be here somewhere, and we’re just not looking hard enough—”

“The woman at the bar, who got me a beer, told me that we need to look closer, so you might be right,” You nodded, munching on your chips. “She might know something, but doesn’t want to get too close to it, I don’t blame her, this whole thing has been freakin’ me the fuck out.”

“So Abby’s here somewhere?” Ellie took a handful of chips and ate them slowly. “That’s what we’re going with?”

“Yeah, but where? We know this place like the back of our hands. We would have found her already by now.”

“That’s where m’confused because I don’t know. I have no idea where she could be—”

“Y/N, Ellie! I’m so glad I found you guys!” Brenda’s voice rings out.

The pair of you turn in your seats, and look at her with your mouths full with food, and staring like a deer in headlights. “Brenda, miss us already? It’s been 30 minutes.” You coughed, swallowed your food and wiped your face. “What’s wrong?” You asked when you noticed her worried look.

“There’s something you need to see, I haven’t told anyone else yet, apart from you guys.” She rushed out, pulling a book out of her bag and placing it on the table. “I was going through them, like I always do just to make sure she didn’t rip any of the pages, some people have done it, and I found this.”

“Pride and Prejudice?” You blinked. 

“Just look at the back. please.”

Looking over at Ellie, who was just watching with confusion written all over her face and still eating, you open the book and skip through the pages, until you’re on the last page before the back. “Did you hide spiders here? To scare me?” You laughed nervously. 

“It’s about Abby.” Was all she could stutter out. 

Once the words fell from her mouth, your hands dropped the book on the final page, and all of you looked down at it. Staring at it like the horribly written words were going to jump out of the page and eat you. “She took this book out last week.”

M….Mandy

Crazy… 

Abby

“Is that—” Ellie swallowed and locked eyes with you. “She’s still—”

“Alive.”

“So what’s the plan?” Ellie mumbled into your ear, the 3 of you watching a very happy Mandy dancing with her friends, and snatched your beer from your hand. “We corner her?”

“Not here,” You shook your head. “Too obvious. She would see it coming.”

“You think she knows we know?” Jesse asked. 

“I don’t think so, If she knows that we know, I don’t think she would have shown up tonight,” You grabbed a handful of chips and shoved them into your mouth. “Besides, this way, we can observe her, try catching her saying or doing anything that could expose her.”

“We’ve been looking through so much shit for the last month, why can’t I just hit her?” Ellie grumbled and slumped in the chair like a scolded child with a pout on her face. 

“Look what happened to Y/N when she went against a tree,”

“Jesse! Stop bringin’ up that fucking tree.” You groaned and threw your head back.

“It’s funny!” He laughed. 

“Your poor nose didn’t think so,” Ellie cooed playfully and kissed your cheek. “Don’t tell Abby, she will actually kill me for that.”

“Leave my nose alone!”

Amongst your conversation with your friends, you hadn’t notice Mandy walking over to your table until she slid into the empty chair beside Jesse and that’s when all the laughter died down. “Who died?” She giggled, words slightly slurred. “I’m just coming to see how you are doing.”

“M’good,”

“Been better.”

“I think I’m gonna get another drink, Ellie? Y/N? You guys want anything?”

“Two beers!” Ellie cheered.

Fumbling with the bowl of chips, your eyes flicker between Jesse at the bar, and Mandy who was happily sipping her drink through a straw, not worried about the fact you were either about to lose your shit, or throw a chair at her. “So, how’s the search going?”

“S’fine,” You shrugged, not wanting to give her too much without her catching on that you knew. “Keep hitting deadends, but it’s fine besides that.”

“You’re smart, you’ll figure it out.”

Ellie makes a face of disgust at her, her need and want to just throw something at this girl gets stronger every time she opens her mouth with something ridiculous. “Is Jesse making the beers or something? Why is he taking so long?”

“Ellie, half the town is here,” You laughed and threw a chip at her. “Be patient.”

“It’s hard to have that when you live here.” She grumbled and leant her head on your shoulder. “Wake me up when he’s back.”

“You got it, El.” You laughed. 

You hadn’t expected her to actually fall asleep, but when you feel her body slumping more into your side not even 10 minutes later, you’re quick to wrap your arm around her to stop her from falling off the chair and onto the floor. Nor do you notice the look of annoyance on Mandy’s face, still sipping her drink. “I would have guessed Jerry would have been helping you search for Abby. Did you say that was her name?”

The question catches you off guard, slightly offended she even thought of it let alone asked it; Jerry spent countless months of time over several months searching for her. Never eating or sleeping, he stayed awake in hopes she would walk through the door at any given moment. “How long have you lived here?” You found yourself asking and cocking your head to the side.

“How long have I lived here? Oh, since I was like 8 or 9. Why?”

“Then you’d know we look out for our own. Same thing happened when a little boy went missing for 3 days when I turned 16, we all went looking for him and brought him home when we found him. It doesn’t matter if we have distaste or disagreements with someone, if something happens in our community, we help each other, we search, and we don’t rest until we find them.” You explained slowly, eyeing her up. “Jerry doesn’t sleep, just because you don’t see him asking every single person where his daughter is, doesn’t mean he’s not looking. Jerry would kill everyone in his way to get to his daughter. That’s how much he gives a shit about her. We all do.”

“Would you?” It’s like your words didn’t phase her. 

“Would I what?”

“Kill someone to get her?”

Looking down at Ellie, your eyebrow raises just slightly, and it’s back to normal before she can blink and when you chuckle, her skin crawls. “S’not me they should be worried about. When we find whoever took her, m’gonna have to keep Ellie on a tight  leash or she’ll be like a rabid dog looking for something to chew,” You paused and inhaled deeply when your eyes met. “But I would, if you want the truth. I would kill anyone if it meant I could have Abby back.”

“Do you have it in you?”

“If the right person fucks with my family, yeah,” The smirk you gave her caused Mandy to shift around in her seat comfortably. A sense of terror seeps into the cracks of her skin and travels up her spine. “I wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between their fuckin’ eyes, unless Ellie gets to it before I do.”

“Make it seem like a horror movie.” She giggled.

“I think we’re scarier than anything in a horror movie you’ve seen before, Mandy.”

On a note, she hadn’t realised or seemed to have noticed just how bold and eerie you got when you would bluntly stare. Like Ellie, Mandy never understood what you were thinking about when sitting there, zoning out like a zombie. At some points she expects to start seeing cartoon bubbles with those pictures appearing by the side of your head. “What’s the scariest movie you’ve seen?”

“The life m’fucking livin’. That’s what.”

“Your life isn’t that—”

A tray of beers enters your vision as you look up to find Jesse side eyeing Mandy, and then looking at a sleeping Ellie on your shoulder. “At least she’s sleeping. What were you guys talking about?” He asked, wrapping his lips around the bottle and gulping down the liquid.

“I was just telling Mandy that m’not afraid to kill whoever took Abby from us.”

“Remember when you tried to kill that guy who stole your chips a while back?” Jesse smirked, subtly waiting for Mandy’s reaction.

“For stealing chips?” She choked out, pushing her chair out, picking up her almost empty glass and rising to her feet. 

“Oh yeah, the guy’s terrified of me.” You smiled. 

“I would have been too if you tried to kill me for taking your chips. I need to get another drink. Speaking of, do you want more chips?”

“You’re alright, your friends look like they miss you”

“They’re all drunk, but I’ll see you.”

Once she left, you finally let out a laugh. “Really Jesse? When did I try to kill a man for stealing my chips?” You shook your head and took your beer. 

“I tried to see if it would get a reaction out of her, not sure if it worked though,” He shrugged, once again taking a longer glance at Ellie. “Has she been asleep for a long?”

“Not a long time, but she just fell asleep when she came over here, I thought she was joking until she practically fell into me and I don’t have it in me to wake her up, not when she’s barely slept much since we started all this.” You murmured and rubbed her back slowly.

“I can hear you both talking, stop being so loud.” Ellie grumbled against your shoulder and peeled her eyes open slowly. “Is she gone? Can I get the fuck up now?”

“Were you fakin’ that?” Your hand slapped the back of her head gently; which she laughed at when she sat up completely. “After tonight, you’re getting at least 15 hours sleep.”

“Says you, you haven’t slept in like 10 years.”

“I take naps when needed”

“Not enough, those dark circles under your eyes finally match that bruised nose.”

“Enough with my nose! And the tree!” You warned when Jesse opened his mouth. “Let me live it down for fuck sake.”

“I don’t think I can, the story was hilarious,” The brunette smirked, hands running down her face as she yawned into the palm of her hand. “So, did she start freaking out when Jesse said you tried to kill someone?” 

“Not like we hoped.” 

Once the clock hit 11pm, Ellie was the first to notice Mandy slipping out of the doors, with a few of her friends following closely behind. “She’s leaving, let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Following her. She wrote the note, she doesn’t fuckin’ read books, she can’t even read the fact you aren’t interested in her, and she’s obsessed with you for a reason none of us know. She knows something, if you don’t want to follow her, I’ll go alone.” Ellie rambled on and she jumped to her feet. 

“Like fuck you’re going alone. Jesse open your mouth about a certain something, I will hit you.” You warned again, looking at him with a harsh glare. “Not a single word about it ever again, you guys got it?”

“I was just going to say that Abby owes you two kisses for the black eye you got.” He smiled innocently. “Risked your whole face for her. Props to you.”

“Can we talk about you and Abby flirting after?”

“Right, let’s go then.”

You kept your distance, not wanting to give anything away. A part of you did feel slightly uncomfortable with the fact you were literally following someone, but the other part of your brain was screaming at you. She knows what happened to Abby. She knows something. It wasn’t like you could ignore that gnawing feeling in your mind. “What are we going to do if we find something?” Ellie asked, huddling close to you.

“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it?” You murmured with each cautious step. “If she’s as crazy as that note proves then we can’t just throw ourselves at her and attack her.”

Hiding behind the tree when she suddenly drops her purse, Ellie grabs onto the back of your shirt tightly as you all watch Mandy scrambling to pick it up and stumbling her way up the path towards her house; almost tripping over in the process and if it wasn’t for the fact your hand quickly came up and cupped Ellie’s mouth, the laugh she let out would have gotten you all caught. “Shut the fuck up.” You warned.

“Yes, Boss.”

“Ellie’s gonna be the reason we all die.” Jesse grumbled, sneakily running over towards the other tree that was closer to her house. “I think she’s gone in the house now, you can move.” He waved you over, still looking at the window.

“Don’t laugh, or you’ll get us caught.”

“God, I won’t laugh again unless she falls out of the fuckin’ door.” Ellie grumbled from behind you, still using your body as a shield. “Or hits a tree—”

“Ellie, I will tie you to a tree and leave you out here. I said don’t bring it up.” 

“C’mon, you and that tree have a pure love relationship now.”

“M’gonna tell Joel about what you did with that girl behind his house if you don’t shut your mouth right now.” You warned, turning to look at her.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would, now shut the hell up.”

Stalking up the steps quietly, you keep your hold on Ellie tight when she stumbles up one of the steps and Jesse was the one who had to place his hand over her mouth this time when she went to yelp. “Do not get us caught, Ellie, I’ll never forgive you.”

From here, you could see Mandy in the kitchen, filling her glass up with whatever she chose to drink tonight, taking a sip as she leant against the counter and her shoulders sagged. That sudden loud banging had you all flinching in your spots and Mandy straightened herself up. “Quit it! You do that all the fuckin time, it’s driving me nuts!” 

“She’s already nuts,” Ellie’s voice muffled behind Jesse’s hand. 

“Should have killed you when I had the damn chance, but no! Everyone gives too much of a shit about you!”

Carefully, without dropping Ellie or causing Jesse to fall over, your hand lightly grips onto the door handle, squeezing your eyes shut tightly as you turn it just enough to hear a soft click. “Let’s go.” You whispered, removing your hold reluctantly and stood up.

Pushing the door open wildly, Mandy stumbled back, almost falling over the table when You, Ellie and Jesse stormed in through her front door. “Y/N?”

“Where the fuck is she!?” You’re suddenly in her face in a flash and fists balled up by your sides. 

“What happened to not throwing ourselves at her and attacking her?” Ellie grumbled quietly from beside Jesse under her breath. 

“I don’t— I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mandy stammered, eyes wide and glossy.

“Oh, you don’t?” You laughed sarcastically and shook your head. “You know exactly what m’fucking talking about.” 

“I really don’t—”

“You can drop the innocent act, you insane little bitch.” Ellie seethed from beside you.

“Y/N, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mandy sobbed, backed into a corner and not knowing an escape route.

Her breath hitched and she gasped when you’re suddenly gripping her face between your hands tightly; looking down at her angrily. Angrier than she’s ever seen before. “No? Then fuck what fuck is this?” 

The sheet of paper hits her square in the chest, and Mandy scrambles to catch it, her shaky hands fumble to open it, and as her eyes catch onto what’s on the page, you finally see the way her jaw clenches and her face relaxes. “She never deserved you,” She scoffed, finally letting her guard down. “That stupid little bitch deserved everything that happened.”

“The fuck did you say?” 

“She had it coming. If she didn’t keep taking you away from me, telling you to ignore me, blowing off our dates—”

“We went on one date!” 

“A date she kept telling you to miss, always listening to her, doing what she tells you, with her out of the way I could have you to myself.” She grinned.

Leaning closer to her, you laughed in her face. “You still have nothing,” You murmured with a grimace. “This makes me hate you more.” 

“No you don’t, you don’t hate me.” Mandy shook her head and plastered on a smile. “No,”

“Are you fucking stupid?” Ellie blinked, eyes going between you and then Mandy. “You’re fucking crazy, obsessive, who would love that?”

“Dina loved you, didn’t she, Ellie, takes one obsessive bitch to know another?”

“Hey,” Jesse warned, stepping in front of Ellie. “Keep her name out of your mouth.” 

“Ah yes, Jesse, the other one. How does it feel knowing she loved you both yet still broke up with you when she had her fill?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” 

“Where is Abby?” You glared and gripped her face harder. “Tell me where she is!” 

“She’s gone! She was never here, I took care of her for us!” 

“There is no us!” 

The fact she’s not getting it makes you more angry, angrier than when you found out Abby went missing. “But, I did this for you? Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you see I do everything for you?”

“I didn’t ask you to take my best friend away from me! I’m asking you to give her back to me!”

“She’s not here! Why would she be here?!”

“Do not let her move,” You told them as you slowly took a couple of steps away from her. “If either of you let her walk out that damn door, m’shooting you both.” With the stare you were giving them, they both knew you weren’t kidding. You were scary when you were angry, that’s not a secret. 

Wandering into the living room, the same one you ate fucking dinner in, you halted in your steps with your arms folded over your chest. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but as you glanced around the room, you couldn’t exactly find anything out of the ordinary, or even remotely suspicious. Maybe you had gotten it wrong? You were so sleep deprived that anyone could have written the note, Mandy can’t be the only one to write hearts next to her name, right?

You were about to give up on this crazy plan; the crazy plan of yelling and screaming at Mandy until she told you what you wanted to hear, when the faintest scraping sound had caught your attention. It wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough that you could hear it from where you were standing. Your eyebrows furrow and your body turns just slightly, head pointing in the direction of the cabinet opposite the bookshelf. “What’s that noise?” You asked to no one in particular.

“What noise?” Ellie quipped, cautiously keeping her eyes on Mandy, who was still slumped against the counter, and occasionally over to you where you stood. “I don’t hear anything—”

There it was again, the slight scraping sound, but only this time it’s a little louder. 

Before you could take another step towards the cabinet, Mandy was suddenly moving around and pushing herself in front of you, but you weren’t focused on her face, no, you were more focused on the gun pointed at your fuckin’ face. “I can’t let you go through there,” She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “If you just stopped looking, stopped asking people, begging people for help, then this wouldn’t be happening. I did this for us, for you, why can’t you see that?” 

“You took her from me, from us, why would I love you for that?” You scoffed, stepped a little closer. “If you’re gonna shoot me because I want to find her, then don’t be a goddamn pussy and shoot me.” 

“S…Shoot you?” Mandy stammered, quickly shaking her head. “No! No, I don’t want to shoot you, I love you!” 

“Y/N,” Ellie warned, trying to figure out a way to help you, get you away from her. “Y/N.”

“Let me have her, that’s all I want, please just— I need Abby, please” You begged, eyes fluttering closed as you felt the cool metal on your skin. “I just want my Abby back.” 

“There’s no Abby left to bring back.”

“I really hate when people lie to me,” You whispered so quietly that she almost didn’t catch it. “Liars are one of the worst things in the world, stop trying to piss me off even more.”

You’re not sure what happens, one second you’re all standing there, and the next Ellie’s jumping at her, putting herself on the line to simply help you. “Ellie!” You growled, watching her practically pushing Mandy onto the floor, the gun still safely in her hands.

“Now is really not the time to question what m’doing. Go get her!”

Quickly, you manage to rush around the commotion, and slip back into the kitchen; keys, surely she keeps keys around here somewhere right? The kitchen is cold, plates in the sink that haven’t been touched in weeks, and your mind starts to wonder again as you look around. Could Abby really be here? Locked away without any sunlight? What if she was here but it’s too late?

Pulling open one of the drawers, you let out a sigh of relief once you spot a set of keys, way too many now that you look at it. Who needs that many if they don’t have secrets they’d rather stay locked away? Snatching them up and slamming the drawer shut again, you stumble your way out of the kitchen.

Jesse’s already pushing the cabinet away, a metal door hiding and tucked away perfectly behind it, when you also happen to glance over to see Ellie was standing over Mandy as you walked back into the living room, the gun now in her hands. “Go, I can look after Ellie, make sure nothing happens.” He groaned, slumping against the wooden cabinet. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, go!”

With trembling hands, one by one, you slot the keys into the lock; cursing and muttering under your breath when certain ones don’t unlock it. By the 7th key, the lock falls and you suck in a deep breath. Anything could be waiting for you on the other side of that door. Your life is already on the line, what’s one more to the list? So with a final sigh, and groan, you pull down the handle and pull the door open. The loud screeching of metal rings through your ears and sends a shiver down your spine.

The coldness washes over you quickly as you look down at the steps leaning into the basement once the doors open. You glance over at Ellie, Mandy’s still kicking at her legs, trying to get up and you send your friend a reassuring smile before making your way down into the dark and eerie room.

There’s no windows, you notice that quite quickly first, they’re all boarded up. No one would hear you if this entire plan goes to shit, Mandy somehow locking you up in here. Not a single living soul outside of this house would be able to hear your screams and cries for help. Not even the animals or insects living right beside it.

Tucking the keys in your back pocket, you step off the last step and release yet another sigh. It’s colder down here than it was opening the door, you think to yourself. To your left there’s a table with an endless supply of books, weird. Moving towards them with caution, you’re quick to pick up on all the torn up papers, the pens scattered along it. Picking up one of the notes, you’re in no luck when you find there’s nothing on there, yet another mystery in your endless supply of wonder. 

To your right there’s another small room. You look at it for longer than you like, wondering who would need two rooms in one, until the gentle scraping catches your attention again as you went to turn around. It sounded like chalk on a chalk board, that’s the best way you could describe such a sound, maybe it wasn’t exactly lose to what you can imagine, but it’s the best you got. 

As you got closer, you noticed the smaller padlock on the door, keeping whatever’s hidden, hidden.

Pulling the keys out of your pocket, you’re shaking even more when you look through them to find a key much smaller than the other ones, one that’s dainty and could hide anywhere if it tried harder enough. 

The lock drops and you start to notice your hands haven’t stopped shaking, but now it’s starting to get uncomfortable, and uncontrollable for you to deal with. Sliding the lock, you press your forehead against the door and take a deep breath. Was this how it ends? Was this going to lead you into yet another deadend? Was Abby really gone and you were going to be stuck down here with some crazy psycho? 

“Let go of me!” You heard Mandy scream from above you. Ellie’s words being screamed angrily right back at her.

With a final sigh, you pull the handle down and pull the door open.

If Abby’s not here, and this is just me falling into a trap, let everyone know I tried.

It’s dark. You can’t see anything. Turning your head, you notice a small light switch just beside the door, covered in mould and dirt, probably not the best idea to put your hands all in it, but you do it. You flick the switch and the light loominates the room and that’s when you notice it. You finally see it. 

The figure curled up in the corner of the room, holding themselves until whatever nightmare they’re able to get out of. Taking a singular step into the room, you crouch slowly, ignoring the throbbing pain in your hand as you reach it out and gently touch their shoulder. “M’not gonna hurt you,” You reassured just before they flinch at your touch with a pained whimper head whipping around and tired blue eyes meet yours.

The sight causes your breath to hitch and heart to thump loudly in your chest.

“Abby?”

Jerry, who was smiling and cooking something for dinner as the music on the radio played quietly, almost fell to his knees the second the door opened to reveal you, Ellie, Jesse and Abby. 

“My girl?” He whispered, not wanting to be loud to the point it might scare her. “Abby,” He breathed out when blue eyes met him. “Oh, baby.” 

Guiding her towards the table carefully, you gently helped her sit down, but not before her hand tightens around your arm when you went to walk away. “M’just gonna run you a bath, you’re cold and you need to be warm, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Abby simply nodded slowly. Almost like she wasn’t even there. 

“Honey, I can make you something else to eat? You don’t have to eat this but,” Jerry trailed off, watching the way Abby’s simply still looking in the spot you once were, yearning for you to come back already. “At least drink something for me?” He frowned, pulling his hand back quickly at the sight of Abby flinching and pulling her hand away when his goes to touch hers. “I won’t hurt you, baby girl. I’d never hurt you.”

You come back no later than 15 minutes. To her that’s still too long.

Abby didn’t move an inch or speak once the entire time you left to run her a bath. She was still sitting silently on the chair, not touching the food her Dad had plated for her, and left the glass of water in Its original spot. “Abby?” 

Her head turned slightly, the most movement she’s done since she got home, and looked right at you. Her eyes looked dull, emotionless but stood up slowly when you held your hand out for her. Taking your hand, Abby doesn’t look back or spare a glance to anyone in the room as she leaves. It’s quiet, too quiet but no on can blame her, she’s been in a room for god knows how long, they understand that this is going to take some time to adjust.

By the time you made it into her bedroom, you’re quick to scoop up the fresh clothes in your free hand, the other still holding onto hers tightly as you guide her into the bathroom. The same bathroom that there’s a warm bath ready for her.

Placing the clean folded clothes on the toilet, you looked over at Abby, who still has yet to talk, was facing away from you, looking at the water. “There’s clean clothes here, if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?” You smiled. “I’ll give you some privacy, I’ll just be in your room— Abby?” Her hand reaches out for yours, grabbing you tightly and keeping you there when you turn around to leave. “Hey,”

“S..Stay,” Her voice cracked, but kept her grip firm. “S..Stay, please?” 

“Okay, of course, m’not going anywhere,” You promised and cautiously stepped closer to her. “Let’s take this off, yeah? You’re probably not warm enough.” As you went to unzip the hoodie she was wearing, her hand stopped you again. “Sorry, habit,”

“It’s n..not the same,” A sob slipped out and she shook her head. “Not the same,”

“What’s not the same?”

“If I take it off, you’re g..going to find it disgusting,”

“I could never think that of you, Abs”

After a few minutes, Abby nodded reluctantly and let you unzip the jacket fully. It only took a few seconds for you to stop in your tracks and understand what she meant once the jacket was off and she was once again facing away from you. “Abby,” You gasped.

You remember the times you would spend laying on her bed, with her snuggled in your chest, and threading your fingers through her hair, braiding it, playing with you. It was all gone in an instant. Gone just like she had once been. This Abby was left fragile, so thin, pale and terrified. “I..I’m disgusting,” 

Walking around her until you were face to face, you held back a frown and gently cupped her face between your hands, your heart shattering into pieces at her flinch. “Won’t hurt you,” You whispered, wiped away the tears that fell and kissed her cheek. “You’re here with me, you’re safe, and I’ll never hurt you,” Slowly, you brushed your finger across her cheek, and smiled when she carefully leaned into your touch. “You’re beautiful, you’ve always been beautiful.” 

Abby doesn’t believe you, you can tell by the way she shakes her head, cries harder and holds onto your arms tightly. “M’scared, m’so scared.”

“I know, Love, I know, but I won’t let anyone hurt you again, I promise, I promise I won’t.” 

By the time Abby managed to get into the bath, with the help from you, she cried at every touch, rubbing her eyes harshly each time you rubbed the shampoo into her hair, mumbled about being sorry that she couldn’t stop squirming and with every reassurance from you that it was okay, it made her chest heave and cries louder. You didn’t ask her what happened, you know that when she was ready to talk about it, you would be there to listen. Guide and help her when needed.

Rinsing the final suds of shampoo from her hair, or what Mandy left of it, you smiled softly when her eyes fluttered open and found you. “Hi,” You pressed your forehead against hers and brushed your thumb over the side of her neck slowly. “You’re getting warmer.” You murmured. “We’re almost done.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Love.”

Abby was clad in some of your old clothes, curled up in your side on her bed 15 minutes later. Her hand gripped the back of your jumper tightly, face buried deeply in your chest as you drew random patterns along her skin beneath your clothes. “M’glad you’re here,” You whispered against her forehead. “I never stopped looking for you, I hope you know that. You can tell me what happened when you’re ready, m’never gonna rush you to talk about it, but know that we’re here for you, and we just want to keep you safe. We’re ready to talk when you’re ready.”

All Abby could do was nod.

The door squeaked and opened to reveal Ellie, clothes dirty and hair slightly ruffled, as she stepped into the room with a fresh plate of food in one hand, and a drink in the other. “Hey, Abs.” She smiled, placing both on the nightstand before sliding onto the bed beside her. “I know you might not be hungry but, I brought you some food, Jerry practically rushed me to bring it to you.” 

Abby curled more into you and buried her face in your chest with a smile tugging at her lips. “How is she?”

“What did you do?” You asked, ignoring her question and noticing the red stains on her shirt instead. 

“I took care of it, she won’t hurt Abby or anyone else again.” Ellies eyes didn’t leave Abby as she spoke. “Stop, I took care of it, like we promised. We keep each other safe.” She sighed once she noticed your look. “Abby?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I cuddle you?” 

Turning her head slowly, Abby looks up at Ellie for a couple of seconds before nodding. Lying down on the bed further, the Brunette carefully places her arm over Abby’s waist and cuddles up to her back, while Abby places her head against your chest again. “M’sorry it took so long,” She mumbled into Abby’s back. “M’so sorry.” She kissed her head and held her tighter. 

Leaning your head down, you pressed your lips against Abby’s forehead, stroked her arm comfortingly and smiled when she held onto you a little tighter. “You can sleep now, we’ll always keep you safe, Baby.” 

One secret revealed, another buried and hidden. 

[bartonomy]

A LITTLE BIT OF SCANDAL WITH A PINCH OF DEFAMATION

PAIRING Sirius Black x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS someone has made it their personal mission to ridicule the eldest black sibling in the school newspaper’s anonymous Spotlight column and the entire school is entertained- except Sirius

WORD COUNT 1.6k

CONTENT WARNING none

library.

Sirius Black was not used to being the butt of the joke.

Sure, he and James pranked their fellow students on a near daily basis, but that was different. That was lighthearted fun. This? This was targeted character assassination.

He sat at the Gryffindor table, scowling at the latest edition of The Hogwarts Weekly, which had just been delivered alongside breakfast. The familiar bolded headline made his stomach twist with dread.

“Weekly Spotlight: Sirius Black’s Hair Routine- Does He Secretly Use Veela Shampoo?”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand through his obscenely perfect hair as James curiously peered over his shoulder.

“Oi, that’s a glowing review compared to last week,” James said, snatching a piece of toast. “At least they’re acknowledging the effort you put into looking devastatingly handsome.”

Sirius shot him a glare. “‘Effort’? You think I try to look like this? Mate, I was born like this."

James smirked. “Well, according to the article, you wake up two hours early just to what was it again?, ‘whisper sweet nothings to your reflection’?”

Sirius slammed the newspaper onto the table and huffed. “I do not whisper to my reflection.”

“Mate, I’ve seen you wink at yourself in the window.”

“That’s different,” Sirius muttered or rather pouted.

Across the hall, students were already whispering, chuckling at the latest installment of the rather brilliant writer's ongoing takedown of Sirius Black.

“This has gone too far,” Sirius grumbled. “I need to find out who’s behind this.”

James perked up. “Are you saying…” His eyes gleamed with mischief. “We have a mystery to solve?”

Sirius nodded, expression grave. “We’re going to catch this Quilly and when we do, I swear they’ll regret ever picking up a feather.”

James grinned. “Sirius, my dear friend, we are now game on.”

Sirius and James took their new roles as amateur detectives very seriously.

They started by interrogating their classmates.

“Did you write this?” Sirius demanded, waving the newspaper in the face of a startled Ravenclaw.

The boy blinked. “I- I don’t even read the Herald.”

James jotted something down in a small notebook. “Suspicious.”

Sirius nodded in agreement. “Very suspicious indeed.”

The Ravenclaw scurried away.

Next, they turned to analyzing past articles for clues. They sat in a corner of the common room, parchment and numerous past articles spread out before them. James tapped his quill against his chin. “Alright, let’s think, who would have enough access to the dumb things you do on a daily basis?”

Sirius frowned. “That’s the problem. I’m incredibly popular. People are always watching me.”

James snorted. “That’s one way to phrase it.”

“Alright,” Sirius huffed. “Who works on the Weekly?”

“Dunno,” James admitted. “It’s all pretty hush hush. They don’t like revealing their sources.”

“Cowards.”

James scanned the common room, eyes landing on Remus, who was curled up in an armchair, nose deep in a book.

“Oi, Moony,” James called. “You’re a Prefect. You know things. Who writes for The Hogwarts Weekly?”

Remus didn’t even look up. “Confidential.”

Sirius groaned. “Oh, come on.”

Remus finally closed his book and sighed. “Look, if the Quiller keeps their writers anonymous, they have a reason for it. Besides, maybe if you stopped embarrassing yourself on a daily basis, they wouldn’t have so much material.”

James laughs at that. Sirius glared. “You’re useless.”

Remus smirked. “And yet, I sleep soundly at night.”

The following week, after a failed (lazy really) gathering of information, he slammed the latest issue of the newspaper onto the Gryffindor table, sending toast crumbs flying.

“This- this is an attack on my dignity!” he declared, glaring at the offending article.

James, who was in the middle of buttering his toast, looked up eyes wide. “What is it this time?”

Sirius scowled. “See for yourself”

James took the paper from him, eyes scanning the latest Spotlight column.

“Sirius Black: Smooth Talker or Walking Disaster?”

Once again, Hogwarts’ resident Casanova has graced the halls with his effortless charm- or so he thinks. Witnesses report that Black’s attempt to woo a Hufflepuff sixth year ended in catastrophe when he tripped over his own shoelaces and knocked over an entire suit of armor.

Eyewitness testimony claims Black tried to play it off, stating, ‘The armor was clearly in love with me. It fell at my feet.’

Sources remain skeptical. "

James barely suppressed a laugh. “I mean… it does sound like something you’d say.”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s not the point! Who is this menace? Who keeps writing these slanderous lies?”

Remus, who had been reading over James’ shoulder, snorted. “They’re not lies if they actually happened.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, you did say the armor was in love with you.”

Sirius huffed. “That’s not- that’s beside the point!” He gestured wildly. “This mystery writer has been humiliating me for weeks! It's blasphemy!”

His first suspect was the rather scary friend of his.

“Marls,” Sirius said, sliding into the seat across from her. “Where were you last Tuesday at precisely 7:42 PM?”

Marlene raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because,” James said dramatically, “that was the moment the Weekly was printed. And we think you’re the mysterious Quiller.”

Marlene blinked. Then she burst out laughing.

“Oh, I wish I was them,” she wheezed, swiping away stray tears. “Whoever that is? Brilliant. But sorry to disappoint, Black. It’s not me.”

Sirius squinted. “Hmm. You do like writing…”

“I like writing about things that matter,” Marlene said dryly. “And you? Do not matter.”

Sirius gasped bewildered. James patted his shoulder. “Tough break, mate.”

The second suspect was Lily, much to James' dismay. They were walking towards the library, discussing a way to question the red head without being hexed first. A few third years were discussing the newest paper rather enthusiastically by the grand fountain in the hall, much to Sirius' annoyance.

“She’s clever, she hates you, and wants to get back at you by attacking me,” Sirius reasoned. “Sounds like our girl.”

James frowned. “Yeah, but she’d just tell me to my face that I’m an idiot.”

“…Good point.”

The next and last suspect was Mary.

“She’s always laughing like a Hippogriff whenever a new column drops,” Sirius muttered. “Maybe too much.”

They set up an ambush outside the Herbology classroom, waiting for Mary to slip up.

After an eternity (20 minutes) of lurking in the corridor, she finally came into view.

Sirius and James leaped out from behind a suit of armor.

“Confess, Macdonald!” Sirius yelled.

Mary screamed, punched James in the stomach, and stormed off.

“…Not her,” James wheezed.

After several more failed interrogations, the case was going cold.

“We need bait,” Sirius decided. James raised an eyebrow. “Bait?”

Sirius grinned. “We stage an event! Something so ridiculous that the mystery writer has to cover it. Then, we watch to see who’s taking notes.”

James rubbed his hands together. “On Sleakeazy's Hair Potion, Pads, you're brilliant .”

Thus, the Great Staircase Incident was born.

It involved Sirius pretending to fall dramatically down three flights of stairs (which bloody hurt), James pretending to rescue him, though his acting skills were not very convincing and Peter shouting rather pathetically, “Oh no! Sirius Black has tragically lost all coordination!”

The entire school gathered to watch.

James and Sirius carefully scanned the crowd. Who was watching too closely? Who looked too interested? Sirius’s eyes locked on a familiar face.

You.

You stood near the back, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on your lips. You weren’t laughing as loudly as the others, and there was something… calculating about your expression.

Sirius nudged James. “ Mate, I have a hunch.”

James followed his gaze. “You think it’s them?”

Sirius squinted. “I don’t know… but they're suspicious.”

James smirked. “Only one way to find out.”

You were finishing the next article in an empty classroom when the door slammed shut behind you.

You jumped, quill flying from your hand and the remaining ink splattered across the wooden floor.

Sirius Black stood in the doorway, arms crossed, smirking like a mad alchemist who has just discovered a breakthrough that would put him on a chocolate frog.

“Got ya.”

Your heart pounded. “Pardon?”

He strolled toward you, eyes flicking to the parchment on your desk. The column draft written halfway done. You lunged for it- albeit a little too slow.

Sirius snatched the parchment, scanning the words. His grin widened.

“Well, well, well,” he mused. “Looks like the mystery’s solved.”

You swallowed hard. “…I have no idea what you are talking about, Black. Have the countless detentions with Filch mushed up your brain?”

Sirius tapped the parchment. “The ruse is up, Quilly, We both know that you were the one defaming me for, what, six months? Rather impressive, little feather.”

You crossed your arms. “So, what now? You're going to expose me? Hex me?”

"Oh yes, I will definitely prank you for that", he tilted his head. “Though for the second part... it depends.”

“…On?”

A slow smirk spread across his face. “On whether you let me help write the next one.” Your jaw dropped. “What?”

Sirius winked. “If I can’t beat you… I might as well join you.” And just like that, the biggest mystery at Hogwarts took an unexpected turn.

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - under the checkered flag (part three)

warnings ; alcohol consumption, reader being a clown, jk being a clown, everyone’s a clown

prompt ; in which a girl who doesn’t believe in risks takes the biggest one of all—falling for a man who lives for the thrill.

note ; i can’t believe it!!!! we’re halfway through the series omgggg. guys your feedback and love mean all the world and i love writing this story and hope for many more to come <3 sorry im being soft on main my bad

playlist here

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Friendship, as it turns out, is something Jungkook takes very seriously.

It starts subtly—occasional texts, a check-in here and there. How’s work? Are you drowning in spreadsheets yet? A picture of his breakfast one morning with the caption: rate my cooking skills, be honest. The casual kind of conversation that isn’t meant to mean much, the kind that should be easy to brush off.

But then, somewhere along the way, it becomes apparent it’s more than you bargained for.

The texts become more frequent, slipping into your daily routine like they belong there. Did you eat yet? What’s the most annoying thing a client has said to you today? I think my cat is judging me. Thoughts?

It’s easy.

So easy, in fact, that you don’t even realize how much of your time belongs to him now.

At first, it’s just casual meetups—wine nights where he lets you pick the bottle and pretends to know what he’s doing when he swirls his glass like a critic. You try to explain tasting notes, but he just hums thoughtfully and says, “Yeah, this one tastes very…red.”

Then there are the video game nights, where he insists on showing you how to play, only to immediately regret it when you button-mash your way to victory. “There’s no way that just happened,” he groans, staring at the screen in disbelief as you grin smugly beside him.

And then—perhaps the most unexpected of all—there’s the puzzle night.

It starts as a joke. You mention it offhandedly, expecting him to laugh it off, but instead, he tilts his head, intrigued. “I’ve never done one before. Teach me.”

So you do.

You sit cross-legged on the floor of your living room, a thousand tiny pieces scattered between you, as Jungkook studies the edge pieces like they hold the secrets of the universe.

“Okay,” he says, brows furrowed in concentration. “So the strategy is…?”

You smirk. “To not overthink it.”

He scoffs, determined. “No such thing.”

It’s the kind of thing you never would’ve imagined doing with him. The kind of moment that should feel out of place, but somehow, it doesn’t. Somehow, this feels oddly natural. Like you’ve been doing it since the day you were born.

And you don’t even realize how much of your life he’s occupied until Jisoo points it out.

She catches you off guard in the middle of an ordinary workday, when you’re both sitting at your desks, your laptop open but your attention elsewhere. Your phone buzzes beside you, another message from Jungkook flashing across the screen.

Jungkook: What’s the corporate world like today? Are we still scamming people?

You bite back a smile, typing a response.

You: Scamming is such a strong word. We prefer “strategic negotiations.”

Jisoo watches you out of the corner of her eye, her lips curling slightly. “Okay, who are you texting?”

“No one,” you say too quickly, setting your phone down.

She raises an eyebrow. “Right. So it’s no one that has you smiling at your phone like that?”

You roll your eyes. “I wasn’t smiling.”

“You were,” she says, leaning on her elbow, her tone turning smug. “And I have a very strong suspicion that it’s a certain race car driver.”

You freeze. “It’s not—”

Jisoo gasps, her grin widening. “It is! Oh my god, how often do you two talk?”

You huff, feigning exasperation. “It’s not like that. We’re just… friends.”

Jisoo hums, unconvinced. “Friends who text all the time. Friends who see each other, let me guess, two, three times a week?”

You open your mouth, but the words don’t come out, because she’s right.

You blink, suddenly realizing just how much time you’ve been spending with Jungkook. The wine nights. The video games. The puzzles. The constant texts, the check-ins, the easy way he’s integrated himself into your daily routine.

Your stomach twists.

Jisoo watches you carefully. “You do realize how weird this is, right?”

You sigh, pressing your fingers to your temple. “It’s not weird.”

She leans in. “It’s weird.”

You groan. “Jisoo—”

“No one becomes ‘just friends’ with a guy like Jungkook,” she says, voice dropping to a whisper like she’s unveiling some great universal truth. “And you, my dear, are playing with fire.”

You shake your head, trying to will away the growing warmth in your chest. “We are just friends. I told him I’m not ready for anything.”

Jisoo’s lips twitch. “And yet, here you are, practically dating him without realizing it.”

You sputter. “We are not dating!”

“Right, right. Just friends.” She holds up her hands in surrender, but the teasing glint in her eye doesn’t fade. “Does he know that?”

You frown. “Of course he does.”

Jisoo tilts her head, her voice softening just slightly. “And you’re sure you do, too?”

Her words settle into your skin, into the space between your ribs where doubt has started to bloom.

You exhale, shaking your head. “This isn’t—I’m not—”

Jisoo grins. “Relax. Your secret’s safe with me.”

You narrow your eyes. “Jisoo.”

She presses a hand to her heart. “I won’t tell a soul. But just so you know,” she leans in, her voice dripping with amusement. “I cannot wait to see how this plays out so I can tell you I was right.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples as she turns back to her computer, still grinning.

You pick up your phone again, staring at the message thread with Jungkook.

Friends.

That’s all it is.

It has to be.

But as your fingers hover over the keyboard, ready to type back something witty, something that keeps the conversation going just like always—there’s a small, quiet part of you that wonders: how long can you keep pretending that’s all it is?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

For the first time in what feels like weeks, you have a night that belongs entirely to yourself. No endless emails, no high-stakes negotiations, no last-minute client dinners where you have to keep a carefully curated smile in place. Just a rare, quiet evening. Or, well, until your phone buzzes.

Jungkook: Come over. I’m cooking you something good.

You raise an eyebrow, shifting on your couch.

You: Cooking? You sure about that?

His response is immediate.

Jungkook: I’m offended. I’m literally a five-star chef. And didn’t you say you haven’t had a good steak in a while?

You hesitate for only a second before exhaling, shaking your head to yourself.

You: Fine. But if I get food poisoning, I’m suing.

Jungkook: Fair. But it won’t happen.

And that’s how you end up in his kitchen an hour later, a glass of wine in your hand as you lean against the counter, watching him move.

Jungkook’s home is a place you’ve been acquainted well with, your Google Maps recognizing his address as one of your most frequented once. It’s always exactly what you never expected—sleek, modern, effortlessly expensive, but somehow still lived-in. The kind of place that belongs to someone who travels too often to make it feel warm but who still likes to return to something familiar.

Right now, though, your focus isn’t on his house. It’s on him.

Standing by the stove, Jungkook looks ridiculously good doing something as simple as cooking. His white t-shirt clings to his frame just enough to make it impossible not to notice the sharp cut of his shoulders, the lean muscle beneath. His silver chain catches the warm kitchen light, glinting against the smooth skin of his collarbone. Tattoos peek out from under the short sleeves of his shirt, trailing down his arm, shifting with every precise movement of his hands.

He looks relaxed here, completely at ease as he sears the steak, flipping it with effortless confidence. You take a sip of your wine, watching as he hums to himself, completely in his element.

“You look way too comfortable doing that,” you muse, swirling the deep red liquid in your glass.

Jungkook glances at you, smirking. “Told you I’m basically a chef.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch with amusement. “So this is your secret talent? Cooking expensive meals to impress people?”

He feigns offense. “Excuse me, I’m not trying to impress anyone.” Then, after a beat, “Okay, maybe a little. But only because you doubted me.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I didn’t doubt you. I just... never pictured you doing something so domestic.”

Jungkook grins, effortlessly charming. “What, you thought I survived purely on protein shakes and takeout?”

You pause, considering. “Honestly? Maybe.”

He laughs, tossing a pinch of salt onto the sizzling pan. “I like cooking,” he admits after a moment, his tone softer now. “It’s one of the few things that slows my brain down.”

You blink, surprised at the admission. “Slows your brain down?”

He nods, focusing on the pan. “Racing is... chaos. My life is chaos, most of the time. But this?” He gestures toward the stove. “This is simple. It’s just me, the ingredients, and making sure I don’t burn anything.”

You watch him for a long moment, something warm settling in your chest.

“You really love it,” you say quietly.

Jungkook glances at you again, an unreadable look flickering across his face before he smirks. “Told you I take my steak very seriously.”

You roll your eyes, but the teasing note in his voice doesn’t hide the truth in what he said.

Silence settles between you for a beat, but it’s comfortable, easy. You sip your wine, letting your gaze drift back to him, to the way he moves. There’s something frustratingly captivating about him, something that makes it hard to look away, no matter how much you try.

Maybe it’s the way he handles the steak, confident but unhurried. Maybe it’s the way his shirt clings to the sharp lines of his back when he reaches for a plate. Or maybe it’s just the way he exists, completely at ease in his skin, the kind of presence that makes it impossible not to notice him.

You take another sip of wine, looking away before your thoughts can spiral any further.

Jungkook plates the food, glancing at you with a triumphant smirk. “Alright, moment of truth. Let’s see if I live up to the hype.”

You set your glass down, taking the plate he hands you and sitting down at his dining table. “If this is terrible, I’m never letting you live it down.”

Jungkook scoffs, sitting down across from you. “I don’t fail at things, especially not steak.”

You raise an eyebrow but take your first bite.

The second the flavor hits your tongue, you freeze.

Jungkook watches, his smirk widening. “Oh, shit. It’s good, isn’t it?”

You chew slowly, narrowing your eyes at him. “I hate you.”

He grins. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I hate that you’re good at this. I really wanted to make fun of you.”

Jungkook leans back in his chair, smug. “Guess you’ll just have to find another reason to tease me.”

You huff, but there’s no real annoyance behind it.

As the night stretches on, the conversation flows as easily as the wine. Small talk turns into stories—he tells you about his worst race-day rituals, you tell him about the most ridiculous work emails you’ve ever received. He makes you laugh more than you expect to, and for a while, you forget to keep your guard up.

It’s the same pattern you two continually fall into. That’s really what makes it dangerous. Because you don’t even realize how close you’ve gotten until you look up and find him watching you, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light.

Your breath catches in your throat.

For a second, neither of you move.

Jungkook licks his lips, the silver glint of his piercing catching the light. His tongue flicks over the ring slowly, a mindless habit, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

You look away, your fingers tightening around your wine glass.

He notices. You know he notices.

But he spares you the embarrassment and doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head, muscles flexing slightly beneath his t-shirt. “So,” he says, voice light, breaking the moment before it can become something else. “What’s next? You gonna let me teach you how to cook something next time?”

You exhale, grateful for the shift. “Absolutely not. I think I like it better when you cook for me.”

Jungkook grins. “Hm, getting used to this, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t fight the small smile on your lips.

Because, maybe… maybe you are. And that’s the scariest part of it all.

Your fingers tighten slightly around your wine glass, the warmth of the alcohol no match for the heat creeping up your neck. You try to play it cool, to roll your eyes, to scoff: but truth is, you are getting used to this. To him.

You lower your gaze, focusing on the deep red swirl of your wine as if it holds all the answers you’re trying to avoid. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you murmur, keeping your voice light.

Jungkook studies you, leaning slightly on the table, his elbow propped as he watches you with that knowing look that makes your pulse flicker. “Where’d you just go?” he asks, tilting his head. “You do that sometimes—you disappear into your head.”

You blink, startled by how easily he catches it. “I do not.”

His lips quirk, unconvinced. “You do.”

You exhale through your nose, schooling your expression. “I was just thinking about how, statistically, I have to endure at least one more meal with you cooking before you let me off the hook.”

It’s an easy deflection, one that comes naturally after years of keeping your thoughts and feelings wrapped up tight. You expect him to let it go, to tease you back, to move on like most people would.

But Jungkook just watches you for a second longer, like he knows there’s something else beneath the surface. Like he sees right through you. It’s unsettling.

But he lets it slide, leaning back in his chair as he stretches, groaning slightly as he rolls out his shoulders.

“Okay, serious question,” he says suddenly, breaking the moment.

You glance at him warily. “That doesn’t sound promising.”

He smirks, but there’s something different in his expression now—something thoughtful. “Do you wanna come to one of my races?”

Your head jerks back slightly. “Wait, what?”

Jungkook nods, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. “Yeah. Next one’s in two weeks. You should come.”

You blink at him, completely thrown off. “Isn’t that usually reserved for… I don’t know, one of your fan girls?”

Jungkook lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You make it sound like I keep a roster.”

You raise an eyebrow, and he immediately smirks. “Okay, fine, I see why you’d think that,” he admits. “But no, I’m serious. You should come.”

You stare at him, trying to understand why he’s asking this—why he wants you there, of all people.

Jungkook notices the hesitation on your face, and instead of teasing, his expression softens. “Look, I know you think I’m always surrounded by screaming fans or whatever, but I actually don’t invite a lot of people to my races. Not personally, at least.”

You tilt your head slightly. “So why me?”

He shrugs, like the answer is obvious. “Because I want you to be there.”

Your breath catches slightly at his sincerity. You don’t know how to respond. You should say no. But the way he’s looking at you—the way his gaze holds yours, open and unguarded—makes it impossible to refuse outright.

So instead, you sigh, your tongue failing you as you shake your head, as if you’re doing him some grand favor. “Fine. But don’t make it a big deal. I’ll just sit wherever.”

Jungkook grins, his dimple appearing, and your stomach does a little somersault you pretend not to acknowledge.

“Deal,” he says, lifting his wine glass. “To you coming to my race.”

You sigh again, rolling your eyes, but you clink your glass against his anyway.

And as you take a sip, letting the wine settle warm in your chest, you try to ignore the quiet thrill that sparks in your stomach at the thought of seeing him in his element. Somehow, you already know deep somewhere in the confines of your conscious, this is already becoming something you don’t know how to handle.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You should have known better.

You should have known this man would’ve bent the world backwards for you if you meant you would even give him a sliver of your time.

The moment you and Jisoo step into the race venue, the energy is electric: it’s thrumming through the air, a chaotic mix of revving engines, roaring crowds, and the unmistakable scent of burning rubber and fuel. You weren’t sure what to expect when Jungkook handed you the tickets a week ago, telling you to bring a plus one (secretly praying you did not bring a man), but you definitely didn’t expect this.

Front row.

Front and center.

The seats he gave you aren’t just good—they’re the seats. The kind of seats reserved for people who matter, the kind of seats that have Jisoo gripping your arm and practically vibrating with excitement.

“Oh my god,” she hisses, dragging you down to sit before you can even fully process it. “Are you seeing this? Front row?! What the hell did you do to this man?”

You groan, already regretting bringing her. “Jisoo—”

“No, seriously,” she cuts in, shaking your arm like a child hyped up on sugar. “You told me you guys were just friends. Friends don’t give each other front-row tickets to the biggest race of the season.”

You sigh, shifting in your seat, but there’s no arguing with her. She’s right. You should have expected this, should have known that Jungkook wouldn’t just toss you into the general stands like any regular spectator.

But still.. this?

It’s a lot.

And the worst part? You feel it. A small, buzzing thrill at the base of your spine. A quiet excitement curling low in your stomach.

You glance around, taking in the sheer magnitude of it all; the massive grandstands, the towering screens flashing live footage of the track, the flashing lights, the thunder of engines preparing for battle. The energy is palpable, coursing through the crowd, through you.

You don’t mean to look around, it’s not like you’re looking for anything in particular. But your brain is on autopilot, faster than you’d like it to be. Your eyes find him.

Jungkook stands off to the side, near his car, surrounded by his pit crew but somehow still managing to stand out, like the center of gravity has shifted around him.

And god, you’re staring. You can’t help it.

Dressed in a fitted black racing suit that clings to his frame way too well, Jungkook looks every bit the star that he is. The suit is lined with sleek red and white accents, his name and number embroidered across his chest, a few sponsor logos patched onto the sleeves, but none of that matters. What matters is him.

The way his dark hair is slightly tousled beneath his helmet, the way the sun catches on the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his fingers flex around the strap of his gloves as he pulls them on.

And then there’s the tattoos, ink creeping out from his sleeve, peeking past the edge of his suit. The sharp contrast between the black fabric and the intricate designs decorating his skin is enough to make your brain short-circuit.

Your lips part slightly, heat creeping up your neck before you can even process the fact that you’re practically drooling.

Jisoo catches on immediately.

“Oh. My. God.” She turns to you with the slowest smirk you’ve ever seen in your life. “You’re down bad.”

You snap out of it instantly. “I am not!”

“You so are.” She nudges you, grinning. “You were literally eye-fucking him just now.”

Your face burns. “JISOO.”

She cackles. “I mean, I get it. If I were you, I’d be feral for him in that suit.”

You cover your face with your hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” she sing-songs, clearly loving this.

You groan, still too warm, still way too aware of the fact that, yes, you were definitely staring. Is it a crime to stare at a man who spends his entire day texting you, his free hours seeing you, and treats you like you’re his entire world? Maybe. Possibly.

Before you can even come back with a witty response for Jisoo, Jungkook turns. For a second, he’s just scanning the crowd, his eyes sweeping across the stands, his expression unreadable. But then, he sees you.

And everything shifts.

His entire face lights up. The moment his eyes lock onto yours, his expression changes, his lips curve into a wide, boyish grin, dimples flashing, his entire posture relaxing as if he’s just spotted something he didn’t even realize he was looking for. He lifts a hand and waves.

At you. Not at the cameras, not at the fans screaming his name—at you.

And just like that, you forget all the autonomic movements that come with breathing.

Your brain stalls, your heart slamming against your ribs as you stare at him, frozen in place.

Jisoo, naturally, is losing her mind.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, gripping your arm again. “He’s so into you.”

You swallow hard, pulse erratic, and force yourself to do something, anything.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lift your hand and give him a small wave back.

Jungkook’s grin somehow widens.

And then, before you can even process what just happened, one of his crew members calls him over, and he turns away, back to business.

But the damage is already done. You’re shaken.

Jisoo is smirking at you like she just won the lottery. “Yeah. Friends, huh?”

You don’t respond. You can’t, not when your heart is still racing, not when you’re still trying to process whatever that was.

Because for all the warnings you’ve given yourself, for all the ways you’ve tried to keep this casual, you can’t shake the feeling that you just crossed an invisible line, and you have no idea how to come back from it.

The atmosphere shifts the moment the engines roar to life.

The sound is deafening: a deep, guttural growl that shakes through your chest, vibrating against your ribs like a war drum. The entire track buzzes with energy, the crowd alive with anticipation, waves of cheers and chants rolling through the grandstands. And it’s only when you hear it—his name, being screamed over and over, an entire sea of voices chanting for him—that you realize just how much of a star he is. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just a driver. He’s the driver.

“Oh my god,” Jisoo breathes beside you, gripping your arm as the racers line up on the grid. “I’m nervous.”

You exhale, trying to steady your own racing pulse, eyes locked on Jungkook’s car—the sleek, jet-black machine adorned with streaks of red, his number bold against the hood. He sits behind the wheel, helmet on, hands flexing over the controls, his focus razor-sharp. A few quick accelerations, testing the power beneath him.

The lights overhead flicker—red, red, red, red, green.

And they’re off.

The force of it is immediate, a blur of motion so fast your breath catches in your throat. The cars launch forward like missiles, tearing down the straightaway at blistering speeds, engines screaming as they battle for position.

Jungkook moves with precision.

He’s aggressive but calculated, weaving between competitors, his car slicing through the pack like a blade. Every turn is razor-thin, every move flawless.

“Shit!” Jisoo yells as another car swerves dangerously close to him, forcing him toward the outer edge of the track.

Your heart stalls.

Jungkook doesn’t panic, doesn’t even flinch.

Instead, he cuts in, barely a breath of space between him and the car beside him, his tires gripping the asphalt with perfect timing. It’s insane. It’s impossible.

And yet, he does it.

You barely have time to process it before the next turn, the next sharp maneuver that has you gripping the edge of your seat.

Lap after lap, he dominates.

He takes corners with precision so tight it makes your stomach drop. He threads through competitors like he’s seeing the race in slow motion while everyone else is barely keeping up.

A car ahead of him loses control, tires skidding, the rear nearly flipping as it veers into Jungkook’s path. It’s a moment of danger, a moment of sheer panic, that elicits a reaction from you, somewhere deep inside you that you nearly leap onto the track.

“Oh my god!” you gasp, gripping Jisoo’s arm hard.

Jungkook reacts instantly, dodging by a hair’s width, cutting across the inside lane with a dangerous amount of speed. His tires nearly lift, nearly flip and your heart stops.

Somehow, before you can cover your eyes and recoil, he corrects. Finds control. Shoots forward, engine roaring as he takes the lead.

The final lap is chaos.

Every racer is fighting for position, the finish line just ahead, but Jungkook is untouchable. He blocks an attempt from behind, barely gives room for anyone to challenge him. He’s flying, faster than anyone on the track, his car a streak of black and red cutting through the final straight.

And before you can even react, or tell Jisoo to stop waving her hands like a madman, the checkered flag waves, declaring the winner. Jeon Jungkook.

The crowd erupts.

Jisoo screams, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you like she’s won the race herself. “HE DID IT! HE DID IT—OH MY GOD!”

Yet you still can’t breathe. Because in the middle of all the noise, all the chaos, your chest is aching with something unfamiliar. Something terrifying. You knew he was good. You knew he was talented. But watching him like this—watching him command the track, watching him own his moment, watching him win—it’s something else entirely.

You feel it in the way your heart swells, in the way your entire body is still pumping with adrenaline, in the way your fingers tremble slightly against the railing. You’re proud of him. So much more than you expected to be.

And as Jungkook slows his car, as he lifts his helmet and runs a hand through his messy, sweat-dampened hair, as he grins like a king who just conquered the world, you realize something else, too.

You’re falling for him.

And you don’t know how to stop.

Your phone vibrates in your hand just as the celebrations on the track begin to settle, the roar of the crowd still echoing in your ears. The rush of it all is still thick in your veins, your heartbeat erratic, your body buzzing.

Jungkook: Come to my locker room. My manager will take you.

You stare at the message for a second, your pulse skipping.

Jisoo, practically bouncing beside you, notices immediately. “What? What is it? Why do you look like that?”

You hesitate before turning your phone to show her.

She screams. “OH MY GOD—”

You slap a hand over her mouth, panic flooding through you. “Jisoo!”

She yanks your hand away, eyes wild. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THIS MEANS? I’M ABOUT TO MEET JEON JUNGKOOK.”

You exhale, trying to steady yourself, but truthfully? You’re just as rattled. The adrenaline of the race is still coursing through you, mingling with something else. something warmer, dizzier.

You just watched him win. You watched him command the track. And now he wants to see you.

You don’t have time to analyze it further because Jungkook’s manager appears, who you’ve only heard about in passing from Jungkook’s storytelling, nodding in your direction. “[Y/N]? Come with me.”

Jisoo grabs your arm so tightly you lose circulation. “We’re going backstage.”

You try to stay composed as you follow his manager out of your section, through the winding halls of the stadium, but your heart does not slow down. The deeper you go, the quieter the sounds of the crowd become, replaced by the faint hum of voices, the occasional burst of laughter from crew members celebrating, the sound of bottles popping.

You nearly bump into his manager’s shoulder, as he pauses in front of a door. The door. The one marked with his name.

Jisoo grips your arm hard.

“Is this real life?” she whispers, vibrating.

No.

Absolutely not.

But before you can answer, the manager opens the door, and there he is. Jungkook is standing in the middle of the room, grinning like a child, and your breath catches.

He looks unreal.

Still in his racing suit, half unzipped, the sleeves hanging low around his waist, revealing the white compression tank clinging to his chest, his toned biceps flexing as he runs a towel over his damp hair. He’s slightly sweaty, glowing under the dim locker room lights, his skin flushed from exertion, his adrenaline still burning through him.

And god help you, he looks so good. It’s overwhelming. No one should ever look that good.

You feel it instantly, this need to touch him, this pull toward him that makes your skin feel hot. You could mount him right there.

Jisoo, naturally, has no shame.

“OH MY GOD.” She shoves you aside, beaming at Jungkook. “You were incredible! I mean, I knew you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good. Holy shit, I thought you were gonna die like, three times.”

Jungkook laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, that last turn was tight.”

“TIGHT?! I nearly had a heart attack!”

You hover awkwardly at the entrance, shy now, letting Jisoo blabber on while you try to compose yourself.

Jungkook, ever the charmer, grins at her. “Glad you guys came. I figured it’d be fun for you.”

Jisoo clutches her chest dramatically. “Fun? FUN? This was the best day of my life.”

Jungkook chuckles, his eyes finally shifting toward you.

Suddenly, the air changes.

His grin softens, his posture shifts, and the way he looks at you, like you’re the only one in the room. The soles of your feet are glued to the floor.

“You okay?” he asks, voice quieter, gentler.

You nod, feeling your face burn. “Yeah.”

And then, because it’s all you can think to say, because the words tumble out before you can stop them, “You were… really good.”

Jungkook smiles. No, not the cocky, teasing kind. This one is different. Softer. Like your words actually mean something to him.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly. “You think so?”

You swallow hard, nodding again. “Yeah.”

His eyes linger on you, unreadable, something warm beneath them.

You shift on your feet, suddenly overwhelmed, trying so hard to ignore the way your pulse won’t slow down.

Jisoo, of course, being the best (and worst) friend in the world, refuses to let you suffer in silence. She nudges you hard. “That’s it?! That’s all you’re gonna say? You were really good?”

You shoot her a look.

Jungkook laughs, eyes crinkling. “It’s fine. I’ll take it.” He glances back at you, still smiling. “I’m just glad she came.”

Your stomach flips.

You knew this was a mistake. You knew this was another bullet point on the list of bad decisions you’ve ever made in your life. But standing here, watching him look at you like that, you’re starting to think it’s too late to turn back.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

God, you are such a people pleaser (and you resolve to quit that after this night).

You should have made an excuse, told Jungkook that you were exhausted, that you’d had enough excitement for one night. But when he had looked at you—grinning, breathless, alive—when he had asked you and Jisoo to come to the afterparty, something in you had wanted to say yes.

And now, standing in the middle of his post-race celebration, surrounded by his world—models draped in silk, investors swirling whiskey in crystal glasses, celebrities exchanging fake smiles—you regret it.

This isn’t your scene. You feel it instantly, the sharp edge of not belonging.

Jisoo thrives in environments like this. She’s already three conversations deep, flirting with someone who looks like they own half the city, sipping on a drink she didn’t even have to order herself. She blends in effortlessly, her laughter mixing with the low hum of expensive conversations.

But Jungkook… well, Jungkook has been beside you all night. From the moment you arrived, he’s been there, not glued to your side, but near in a way that makes it impossible to forget his presence. He floats in and out of conversations, nodding politely to sponsors, shaking hands with investors, laughing at jokes from other drivers, yet somehow, he always finds his way back to you.

Every few minutes, his eyes flicker in your direction. Every time someone new approaches you, his body angles slightly toward yours, like he’s keeping you in his orbit, like he’s subtly making it clear that you’re with him.

You, on the other hand, feel exposed.

The dress Jisoo made you wear—something too pretty, too delicate, too much—clings to your skin, the champagne in your hand suddenly feeling like an accessory you don’t know how to hold. You stick to the edges of the room, quietly observing, trying not to feel like an outsider.

And Jungkook still finds you.

Like he knew you’d be here, lingering at the margins, trying not to take up space.

His presence is immediate, undeniable, and the moment he steps beside you, the air shifts, your pulse reacting before you can tell it not to.

“You look like you want to be anywhere but here,” he murmurs, his voice low, just for you.

You huff a quiet laugh, keeping your eyes on the glittering crowd in front of you. “That obvious?”

Jungkook smirks, his gaze flickering between you and the room. “Only to me.”

You roll your eyes, but your chest feels warmer than it should.

Jungkook nudges your arm lightly, his tone teasing but genuinely curious. “So? What’d you really think?”

You blink. “About what?”

He gives you a look. “The race.”

“Oh.” You clear your throat, suddenly shy under his direct attention. “I mean… it was insane. I don’t know how you do it. You were flying out there.”

Jungkook grins, his dimple making an appearance. “That’s the goal.”

Jisoo’s voice echoes in your head. He almost died like three times.

You shift slightly, hesitant before murmuring, “That one moment… when that guy lost control in front of you—”

Jungkook hums, like he knows exactly which moment you mean. “That was close.”

You glance up at him. “Did it scare you?”

He tilts his head, considering. “Not in the way you think.”

You frown. “What does that mean?”

He leans a little closer, voice softer now. “It means I don’t get scared in the moment. My body just reacts. But after?” He shrugs, exhaling. “Sometimes I think about what could’ve happened.”

You study him, something tightening in your chest. “And does that ever make you want to stop?”

Jungkook meets your gaze, and for a moment, the noise around you fades. “No.”

There’s something about the certainty in his voice, the way he owns his answer, that makes your stomach flip.

You clear your throat, trying to ground yourself. “Well… you won.”

He grins. “I did.”

“And you deserved it.”

His smirk softens slightly, something warmer creeping into his eyes. “Yeah?”

You nod, glancing away, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah.”

Jungkook hums, leaning slightly against the wall beside you, his body angled toward yours. He’s close, but not too close. Just enough that you feel him.

“Why’d you come tonight?” he asks, voice softer now.

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the stem of your glass. You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to admit that it was for him. So you shrug. “Jisoo wanted to come.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond right away. You can feel him watching you, reading you, peeling back layers you didn’t realize were so easy for him to unravel.

“Come with me,” he says.

You blink, turning toward him. “What?”

He doesn’t explain, just gently tugs your glass from your fingers, sets it down on the nearest table, and takes your wrist lightly, barely a touch, but guiding.

You let him. Because of course you do. You haven’t denied the man once since he met you (beside when you told him you weren’t ready to be a relationship.)

He leads you through the crowd, past the chaos, through a side door that spills into a quieter space, a private balcony overlooking the city, the cool night air brushing against your skin like a reminder that this is real.

Jungkook exhales, rolling his shoulders, finally free of the noise. “Much better.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the railing. “Are you avoiding your own party?”

He smirks, stepping beside you. “Just the parts I don’t care about.”

You shake your head, but there’s something softer in your chest now, something that shouldn’t feel like relief.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

The city stretches beneath you, lights flickering like stars, the distant hum of traffic filling the silence between words.

“You were really something out there today,” you murmur, surprising yourself when you blurt out the words.

Jungkook glances at you. “Yeah?”

You nod, keeping your eyes on the skyline. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

He exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “It’s the only time my head goes quiet.”

You turn to him, surprised.

Jungkook chuckles, but there’s something honest beneath it. “When I’m driving, nothing else matters. It’s just the track, the speed, the next move.” He pauses. “It’s the only thing in my life that’s completely mine.”

You study him, the way his eyes flicker in the night, the way his shoulders seem just a little lighter out here, away from the noise, the expectations.

“I think I get that,” you admit softly.

Jungkook tilts his head, watching you. “Yeah?”

You nod, inhaling. “Sometimes I think I like being alone so much because it’s the only time I don’t have to be anything for anyone else.”

Jungkook hums, thoughtful. “That’s kinda why I wanted you here tonight. I feel like that about you.”

You choke on an inhale you didn’t even know you were holding. Jungkook shifts slightly, turning to face you fully now, the space between you suddenly too small, too much. Your heart stumbles. There’s something different in his gaze—something you know you should step away from, something you shouldn’t let yourself get pulled into.

He reaches out, brushing the lightest touch against your wrist. It’s barely anything. Somehow, it still wrecks you.

Your pulse skips, your skin burning beneath his touch, and Jungkook feels it. You know he does. Because his eyes drop to your lips. It’s so quick, barely a flicker, but it undoes you.

He’s going to kiss you.

You know it.

And for a second—just one millisecond—you think about letting him. About leaning in, about closing the distance, about ruining everything.

But something in your body wakes up, an electric zap of massive proportions. You take a step back. It’s small. Barely noticeable. But it’s enough.

Jungkook blinks a few times, like he’s waking himself up to reality.

You swallow, exhaling shakily. “We’re just friends.”

It’s not a rejection. It’s a reminder.

Jungkook holds your gaze for a long moment.

Then, slowly, he smiles knowingly. “I know.”

You don’t know what to say to that. So you just nod, looking away, trying to steady yourself, trying to breathe.

Jungkook lets the silence stretch for a second longer before he exhales, rolling his shoulders again. “Wanna go back in?”

You nod, forcing a small smile. “Yeah.”

But as he leads you back inside, the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin, you know you’re not fooling anyone. Least of all, yourself.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The next morning, the office hums with the familiar rhythm of ringing phones, clicking keyboards, and quiet conversations spilling over office walls. You slip into your routine effortlessly—emails, reports, client updates—anything to ground yourself after last night.

But Jisoo?

Jisoo is still talking about the race.

“I mean, I knew he was good,” she says, leaning against your desk, her coffee cup balanced between her fingers, “but holy shit. Watching it in person? I think I actually ascended.”

You barely glance up from your screen, typing out a quick response to a client. “Mm-hmm.”

Jisoo narrows her eyes. “That’s all you have to say?”

You sigh, finally looking at her. “It was… cool.”

Jisoo scoffs. “Cool? Are you kidding me? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. He was insane out there. He almost flipped his car. You were screaming. Don’t act like you weren’t losing your mind.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch. “I was concerned for his safety.”

Jisoo grins knowingly. “Concerned. Right.”

You shake your head, clicking open another spreadsheet. “Drop it, Jisoo.”

She sighs dramatically but relents, pushing off your desk. “Fine. But only because I have actual work to do.”

You hum in approval, barely registering the way she grumbles under her breath about boring friends who refuse to admit they’re in love with race car drivers.

And for a while, the office settles. You dive back into your work, drowning in numbers and emails, your morning slipping by in a comfortable blur.

Until an hour later, when Jisoo circles back. But this time, something’s clearly wrong. She approaches your desk hesitantly, fingers gripping her phone, her entire demeanor different from before, no teasing, no smug smirks. Just… hesitation.

You glance up at her, eyebrows pulling together. “What?”

Jisoo doesn’t speak.

Instead, she exhales through her nose and shoves her phone into your face.

Your heart stalls. Because on the screen in front of you is Jungkook. And her. The headline practically burns into your retinas.

JEON JUNGKOOK SPOTTED LAST NIGHT WITH STUNNING MODEL AT POST-RACE EVENT

The article is accompanied by a photo, one that’s grainy but clear enough. Jungkook, in his outfit you remember well, effortlessly magnetic even in motion. And beside him, a woman. A woman that is most definitely not you.

She’s beautiful. Painfully beautiful. Tall, effortlessly poised, the kind of woman who turns heads without trying. Long, sleek dark hair cascading down her back, designer dress hugging her curves in a way that makes her look sculpted rather than human. Everything about her is refined, elegant, polished. You look down at your black pantsuit, the one you’ve worn thousands of times that suddenly feels too big for you.

You can’t breathe. Something heavy lodges itself in your chest, pressing against your ribs, suffocating.

He’s your friend.

That’s what you tell yourself. That’s what you remind yourself as you force your eyes to move away from Jisoo’s phone, as you push it gently back toward her, as you swallow past the sudden, inexplicable lump in your throat.

“Why are you showing me this?” you ask, and your voice comes out steady, too steady that it’s absolutely suspicious why you’re not crumbling to your knees at the sight.

Jisoo studies you carefully, her lips pressing together. “I just… thought you should see it.”

You let out a breath, forcing a small smile. “Jisoo, this is his life. He can be with whoever he wants.”

She tilts her head. “I know that.”

“So why does it feel like you’re waiting for me to react?”

Jisoo hesitates, as if she’s debating how much to say. “Because I saw the way he looked at you last night.”

Your stomach tightens. You shake your head, laughing lightly. “You’re reading too much into things.”

“Am I?”

You don’t answer.

Because the truth is, you don’t know why you feel like this. You don’t know why your hands feel clammy, why your chest feels too tight, why your heart is pounding as if you just ran a marathon. He’s your friend. That’s all. But why does it feel like something inside you is breaking?

You pull out your own phone, stare at the screen for far too long before finally typing out a message. You don’t even notice when Jisoo stalks back to her desk in silence, a defeated look on her face.

You: How’d the rest of your night go after I left?

It’s casual. Simple. Just a normal text to a friend, which is what he is. That’s what you keep reminding your brain. That’s what you did to yourself. The response comes quicker than you expect.

Jungkook: Good. Missed you after.

Your fingers pause, hover against the keyboard.

You weren’t expecting that.

He missed you? What does that even mean? You left early before the party really unraveled, before the night bled into the kind of company he was used to keeping. Before her. You shouldn’t care, yet your fingers move before you can stop them.

You: Did you? Seems like you had good company.

The second you press send, you regret it.

Your stomach knots as you stare at the message, at the way it hangs there in the chat, too heavy, too obvious. You should have deleted it. Should have just played it cool.

But now it’s too late. Three little dots appear at the bottom of the screen.

Jungkook: What?

Your chest tightens.

You should clarify. Should laugh it off, make it seem like you were just teasing, keep it light, but you don’t. Instead, you turn your phone over, pressing it screen-down against your desk like it can stop the way your thoughts are spiraling.

You hate this feeling. The insecurity. The comparison. This is exactly why you didn’t want to get involved with him in the first place. You know you’re shy. You know you’re not the kind of person who commands a room, who slips into spaces like the one last night and belongs there. You know that if Jungkook wanted someone, it should be her.

The kind of woman who looks effortless in silk and diamonds, who knows how to handle a world that you barely understand. The kind of woman who doesn’t hesitate, who doesn’t stand on the sidelines, convincing herself she doesn’t want something that she clearly does.

Your phone buzzes again. You don’t want to look. Your body betrays you yet again.

Jungkook: What’s up with you?

Your fingers tighten around the device, your heart pounding. Before you can overthink it, another message comes through.

Jungkook: Come over.

You hesitate. You shouldn’t. You should make up an excuse, tell him you’re busy, put distance between whatever this is before it starts feeling like something it’s not supposed to be.

Jungkook: Just hang out. Like always. You in?

Like always. Your pulse slows, just a fraction. It’s what you’ve been doing for weeks—drinking wine, playing video games, sitting on his couch while he talks about his day like you belong in his space.

He’s your friend. He’s been your friend. God, the words are beginning to sound so foreign to you.

Your fingers move before your brain catches up.

You: Sure. Be there after I wrap up these reports.

And as you grab your things, as you tell yourself this is normal, as you step out into the cold air, you try not to think about how much you kinda, maybe, want it to be more.

The drive to his house feels longer than usual. Your fingers grip the steering wheel a little too tightly, knuckles pale against the soft leather. The city blurs past you, neon signs flickering in the quiet hum of the night, but all you can hear is the echo of your own heartbeat, uneven, frantic, betraying every lie you’ve told yourself.

This is nothing. You’re just friends.

So why does it feel like you’re hurtling toward something you can’t control?

Your thoughts spiral, tangled in images you don’t want to picture—her. The model. Stunning, effortless, the kind of woman who belongs in his world.

And you? You’re just you. A girl who crunches numbers and wears neutral blazers, a girl whose biggest risks involve high-stakes contracts, not hundred-mile-an-hour races.

You try to shake it off, to remind yourself that Jungkook is Jungkook—charming, unattainable, someone who exists in spaces you were never meant to fit into. Why did he tell you he missed you? Why did he ask you to come over, like it was you he wanted to see?

The questions lodge themselves deep, threading through the doubt, the fear, the quiet ache you don’t know how to decipher.

And by the time you pull into his driveway, your heart is still racing for all the wrong reasons.

You stand outside his door, fingers hovering just above the wood, heart pounding in a way that feels completely unreasonable. It’s just Jungkook. It’s just another night. Your body doesn’t seem to believe that anymore.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you knock, just two quick, light taps.

The door swings open almost immediately, like he was already standing on the other side, waiting. You gulp down all the saliva left in your mouth, hand still hanging up in the air in a knocking motion. Because Jungkook is there, standing in the soft glow of his entryway, looking so effortlessly good that it actually makes you lightheaded.

Grey sweatpants, hanging low on his hips. A fitted black t-shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders, the fabric clinging to every defined line of muscle. His dark hair is slightly tousled, like he’s just run his fingers through it, and the warm lighting casts soft shadows over the sharp cut of his jaw.

It’s unfair. It’s so unfair.

His lips pull into an easy smile, completely unaware of the mess he’s making of you.

“Hey,” he says, stepping aside to let you in. “That was fast.”

You clear your throat, stepping past him, trying so hard not to inhale the faint scent of his cologne, something deep and clean, with a hint of warmth that lingers in the air.

The familiar scent of ramen fills the house, the rich, savory aroma curling around you like something comforting.

“Did you eat yet?” he asks, closing the door behind you. “Figured you wouldn’t say no to ramen.”

You shake your head wordlessly, stepping further inside, slipping off your coat.

Jungkook watches you, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe leading to the kitchen, arms crossed lazily. “You okay?”

You force a small nod. “Yeah.”

It’s a lie. You can just tell Jungkook knows it.

He tilts his head, studying you, his eyes scanning over your face like he’s reading a script only he can see. “You’re quiet,” he muses. “That’s new.”

You huff a soft breath, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I don’t talk that much to begin with.”

Jungkook’s brow lifts. “You do around me.”

Your stomach tightens. You glance away, your fingers tightening slightly around the hem of your sweater. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. Nothing has happened. Nothing changed. Except everything has fucking changed and it couldn’t be worse. All you can see is that article, that picture of him walking with her, looking like he belongs with people like her, women who are beautiful in a way you feel like you will never be.

And suddenly, standing here in his house, surrounded by his things, with his scent in the air, his presence so overwhelming, it feels wrong, like you shouldn’t be here, like this was never meant to be yours.

Jungkook notices.

Of course, he does. The man has been nothing but the observer since the day you met him.

He straightens slightly, his expression shifting, still light, still casual, but tinged with something else now. Curiosity.

“What’s up with you?” he asks, voice softer now. “Something happen?”

You shake your head too quickly. “No. Just tired.”

Jungkook doesn’t look convinced.

And the worst part? He doesn’t push. He just watches you for another second, like he’s debating whether to let it go.

He exhales, rolling his shoulders, before nodding toward the kitchen. “Come on,” he says, voice easy again. “Before the noodles get soggy.”

You nod, following him. But even as you take a seat at his kitchen table, even as he ladles steaming broth into a bowl and sets it in front of you, even as you curl your hands around the warmth of it, you still feel cold.

The air between you feels off.

You know it. Jungkook knows it. A higher power above both of you knows it.

But he still tries.

He slides into the seat across from you, chopsticks twirling between his fingers, his expression relaxed, but his eyes are sharp, watching you too closely.

“So,” he says, leaning forward slightly, “how was corporate life today? Any thrilling financial scandals? A hostile takeover, maybe?”

You barely register the question, your fingers absently stirring your noodles, dragging them in slow circles through the broth. The scent of garlic and spice curls into the air, warm and familiar, but you can’t seem to focus on it.

Your mind is obviously elsewhere.

Jungkook clears his throat, trying again. “Did you finally tell your boss he’s the worst?”

You blink, barely lifting your gaze. “Huh?”

Jungkook exhales through his nose, setting his chopsticks down with a quiet clink. “Okay.” He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms, tilting his head slightly. “What’s going on with you?”

Your fingers tighten around your chopsticks. “Nothing.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Right.” He gives you a pointed look. “You’re barely eating. That’s not like you.”

You swallow, pushing your noodles around again, your stomach feeling too tight to eat.

After a beat, you finally say it. “How did your night end up after I left?”

Jungkook blinks. He wasn’t expecting that.“What?”

You keep your eyes down. “Last night. After the race. After I left.” Your voice is light, too light. “How did it go?”

Jungkook frowns slightly, like he’s trying to figure out where you’re going with this. “Uh… good?” He lifts a shoulder. “I stayed at the party for a little while, had a few drinks. Talked to some sponsors.”

You nod, still dragging your chopsticks through the broth. “That’s it?”

Jungkook raises a brow. “What answer are you looking for?”

You hesitate.

You shouldn’t ask. But your lips move faster than your brain can catch up. “Did you… leave with anyone?”

Jungkook stills. Suddenly, you hate the silence. Your throat tightens, your heart thudding against your ribs.

Something shifts in his eyes. Understanding. Realization. Slow, creeping, settling between you like a quiet storm. When he finally speaks, his voice is steady. Careful. “Do you care that I did?”

Your stomach drops. You should have seen this coming. You walked right into it, let yourself slip, let him catch something you weren’t supposed to be showing. You don’t panic, you don’t react. Instead, you do what you always do: you pretend.

You force a small chuckle, shaking your head lightly. “No. Just making conversation.”

Jungkook watches you carefully, his jaw ticking slightly, like he doesn’t quite believe you. He lets it slide for now.

You lift your chopsticks, finally taking a bite, ignoring the way the noodles feel heavy in your throat. But even as you chew, even as you pretend like nothing happened, you know that something has. And there’s no undoing it now.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything more at first. He just picks up his chopsticks, twirling his noodles around in the broth, his movements slow, almost lazy, like he’s thinking.

You keep your gaze down, focusing on the steam curling up from your bowl, pretending you don’t feel his eyes on you.

“So,” he murmurs, “how’d you find out?”

Your grip on your chopsticks tightens. “Find out what?”

He lifts a brow. “About my good company last night.”

Your stomach clenches. You force yourself to lift your spoon, to take a sip of the warm broth, to act normal. “Jisoo saw it online.”

Jungkook hums, swirling his chopsticks through his noodles. “And she showed you?”

All you can muster is a nod.

He exhales through his nose, nodding slightly. “Right.”

A beat of silence.

“So,” he says again, voice casual, “you don’t care, right?”

You look up, meeting his gaze.

His eyes are unreadable, but there’s something else there, something careful, like he’s waiting for you to slip, waiting for something in you to crack.

You steel yourself. “No. Why would I?”

Jungkook tilts his head slightly. “I don’t know. You just seem kinda… I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Jealous.”

A slow, sharp heat creeps up your spine. You set your spoon down, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not.”

He smirks. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You bristle. “You can hook up with whoever you want, Jungkook. It’s your life.”

His smirk doesn’t fade. If anything, it deepens. “Right. Because we’re just friends.”

Jungkook leans forward slightly, resting his elbow on the table. “Remind me—whose fault is that again?”

The words are light, teasing. But they hit.

Your jaw tightens, fingers curling into your lap, heat rising to your face. He’s never spoken to you like this before, never challenged you like this. You hate that it’s working. You let out a slow breath, forcing yourself to keep your voice even. “I don’t care who you sleep with.”

Jungkook watches you carefully. “Okay.”

There’s a question that bubbles in you, one that lingered in your mind from the second you saw the headline. You know the answer to it; that was primarily the reason Jisoo showed you. Yet, confirmation is what you need. You hate yourself for it. But you ask. “Did you?”

Jungkook lifts a brow. “Did I what?”

You swallow, hating the way your pulse refuses to stay steady. “Did you… hook up with her?”

It’s stupid to ask. You know what the answer is.

And yet he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes flicker over your face, scanning your expression, your posture, the way your fingers have curled into your palms.

And then, finally, “Yeah,” he says.

One word. One syllable, and you suddenly feel too big in his chair. Your heart drops. You don’t react. You can’t react. Because if you do, it’s over. If you do, he’ll know. So instead, you nod, small, sharp. “Okay.”

Jungkook’s gaze doesn’t waver. But you do notice the way he shifts. The way his smirk fades just slightly, the way his eyes soften, like he sees something in you he wasn’t supposed to see, like he just watched something in you break.

You clear your throat, reaching for your chopsticks, acting like this is just another conversation, like his words didn’t just carve a hollow space inside your chest. “That’s great,” you say lightly, forcing a small smile. “Glad you had fun.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks unsettled. He just stares at you, his chopsticks hovering over his bowl, his expression unreadable. The playful smirk from earlier is gone now, replaced by something sharper, something quieter. “Why are you being like this?”

You glance up at him, forcing an innocent expression. “Being like what?”

Jungkook exhales, setting his chopsticks down with a soft clink. “Like this,” he says, gesturing toward you. “Like you’re pissed off at me, but you won’t just say it.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “I’m not pissed off.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Jungkook tilts his head, watching you closely. “You don’t seem fine.”

“Well, I am,” you snap, sharper than you intend.

Jungkook lifts a brow, clearly catching the shift in your tone. But he doesn’t back off. Instead, he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, his gaze locked onto yours. “Are you seeing other guys?”

You nearly fall out of your chair. “What?”

He shrugs. “I’m just asking.”

“Why?” You shift in your chair uncomfortably.

Jungkook doesn’t blink. “Because you’re acting weird about me seeing someone.”

Suddenly, it’s too much. All of it. The article, the photo, the way it made you feel like something inside of you had cracked wide open. The way you hatedthe thought of him leaving with someone else, touching someone else, being with someone else. The way you have no right to feel that way. He’s not yours, and you made sure of that.

Your chopsticks clatter against the side of your bowl as you sit back in your chair, arms crossing over your chest. “No,” you say, voice clipped. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

Jungkook doesn’t react, just nods slowly, still watching you. “Why not?”

You blink. “What?”

Jungkook leans back, stretching an arm over the back of his chair. “I just figured. You’re beautiful. Smart. Cool. Thought you’d be dating someone.”

You hate the way your stomach flips at his words. You hate the way your pulse reacts to his voice, his attention, his everything. So instead of acknowledging it, you let something else rise to the surface, something sharper.

“I’m not into all that,” you snap.

Jungkook’s brow furrows. “Into what?”

You exhale, rubbing a hand over your face. “Hookups. Dating. Whatever.”

Jungkook tilts his head, his gaze unreadable. “Why not?”

Your jaw clenches. “Because I’m not.”

He doesn’t respond, just watches you, his expression shifting into something you can’t quite place. You hate being seen like this. Hate the way he’s peeling you open, poking at something you haven’t unpacked in years.

So you do something you never do. You snap.

“Not all of us are like you, Jungkook,” you bite out, your voice sharper than you meant it to be. “Not all of us have someone waiting for us after every party. Not all of us want that.”

Jungkook still doesn’t react. He just blinks, his face impossibly calm, like he’s letting you get it out, letting you burn.

But you don’t stop.

“You wanna know why I’m not seeing anyone?” you ask, voice quieter now, but no less biting. “Because I’ve only ever had one boyfriend. One. And I’m not the kind of person who just… moves on like it’s nothing.”

Jungkook finally reacts to that. His expression shifts, subtle, but there. The slightest pull of his brows, the smallest flicker of surprise in his eyes, like he’s realizing something new about you, like he’s seeing you differently.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating.

Your chest rises and falls, your pulse erratic, your hands curling into fists beneath the table. You feel sick. Sick with jealousy, with insecurity, with all the things you don’t want to feel but can’t seem to stop. Sick with how much he affects you, how much he gets under your skin, how much you wish you could rewind time and just not care.

But you do. You do. And Jungkook knows it, even if you’ll never admit it.

Jungkook leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable, but there’s something different in his eyes now, something softer. Like he’s peeling through everything you just said, looking past the sharpness of your voice and into the raw truth beneath it.

“How long were you together?” he asks, voice quieter now.

You inhale slowly. “A few years.”

Jungkook nods, his fingers tracing the rim of his bowl absentmindedly. “First love?”

You hesitate. Then nod. “Yeah.”

His gaze flickers over your face, taking in the way your shoulders have tightened, the way you’re suddenly so aware of your own breathing. He’s quiet for a second, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll keep going.

And for some reason, you do.

“I thought it was forever,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “I really did.”

Jungkook doesn’t speak, just listens.

You swallow. “But it wasn’t.”

There’s something fragile about those words, like even now, a part of you still carries the weight of them. The reality that forever is just a word, not a promise.

Jungkook watches you, something unspoken behind his eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

You exhale through your nose, shaking your head. “Not in the way you think.” You look down at your hands. “I think I just… loved him more than he loved me.”

It’s the first time you’ve said it out loud, andit makes you feel those feelings all over again.

Jungkook doesn’t react immediately. But when he does, his voice is steady. “That’s a shitty feeling.”

You huff a quiet laugh. “Yeah.”

Another silence stretches between you. But this one isn’t tense. It’s reminiscent.

Jungkook tilts his head, watching you carefully. “Is that why you don’t date now?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know.”

“You’re scared,” he says simply.

You freeze. He says it so easily. So matter-of-fact, like he’s known. Maybe he does. He always has.

“I just…” you sigh, pressing your fingers to your temples. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I don’t even know what I’m thinking anymore.”

He doesn’t push. But he’s still watching you, still waiting.

And then, before you can stop yourself, the words slip out. Soft, hesitant, almost afraid. “Would you care if I saw someone?”

The shift is instant. His jaw ticks slightly. His fingers tighten around his chopsticks. And when he finally speaks, his voice is steady. Honest. “Yes.”

You weren’t expecting that. You don’t know what you were expecting. But it sure as hell wasn’t this.

Jungkook doesn’t take his eyes off you. “You know exactly how I feel about you.”

Your mouth is dry, fingers uncurling from your sleeves, your whole body on fire. You do. It’s the only thing you’ve been sure of in these past few weeks. And yet, hearing him say it, feeling the weight of his words settle between you, makes it so much worse.

Your throat tightens. “So then why did you hook up with her?”

Jungkook blinks.

For a second, he just looks at you. You realize, maybe you caught him off guard. Maybe he wasn’t expecting that question. But you’re not taking it back, you need to know.

Jungkook exhales slowly, leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “Because I was trying not to think about you.”

Your breath stalls. He says it so simply. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like it’s just fact. And yet, It wrecks you. Because it means all the things you don’t want it to mean.That he does think about you. That this has never been one-sided. That you’re not the only one caught in this slow, unraveling mess.

Your hands tighten around the edge of the table. Suddenly, you don’t know what to say. Because if you let yourself respond, you might admit that you’re just as lost as he is.

You just stare at him. What the hell are you supposed to say to that? Jungkook just admitted—without hesitation, without flinching—that he hooked up with someone else because he was trying not to think about you.

The words hang in the space between you, electric and raw, making the air too thick, too heavy. And so, like always, you deflect.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you murmur, forcing yourself to breathe, forcing your voice to stay steady. “We’re just friends.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head. “Yeah,” he mutters, voice laced with frustration. “I fucking know.”

His jaw is tight, his fingers curling into the fabric of his sweatpants. “It’s all I think about,” he continues, voice lower now, rougher. “How you keep saying it. How I have to keep pretending like I don’t want more.”

You don’t realize you’re gripping the edge of the table until your knuckles ache. Your heart is pounding. You knew the extent of his little crush but not the honesty, not the way his words cut through you like they belong inside of you.

You swallow, trying to keep your breathing even. “Jungkook—”

But he shakes his head. “Forget it.”

“No,” you press, voice quieter now. “Talk to me.”

Jungkook leans back in his chair, exhaling through his nose, his shoulders rising and falling with the weight of it. His eyes flicker up to yours, darker than usual. You feel it immediately —the tension that’s been simmering beneath the surface for weeks, spilling over the edges now, too much to contain.

So you do something stupid, something reckless, something that feels like pressing a bruise, just to see if it still hurts.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” you say, keeping your voice even, controlled. “But maybe I should.”

Jungkook’s head snaps up. His entire body goes still.

“Maybe it would be easier for both of us,” you murmur, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “If I—”

“Don’t.”

The single word is sharp. Final.

Your lips part slightly, caught off guard by the way his expression hardens.

Jungkook exhales through his nose, rolling his jaw. His fingers tap against the edge of his bowl, his posture tense, like he’s reeling himself back in.

Then, after a beat, his voice shifts.

“Or, I don’t know — Whatever,” he mutters, shaking his head as he grabs his chopsticks again. “You wanna see someone, go ahead. It’s none of my business.”

You know he doesn’t mean that, but he doesn’t let you linger on it. Instead, he changes the subject.

“Anyway,” he says, forcing an easy smile, “are you gonna help me build that stupid puzzle you made me buy, or am I suffering alone?”

And just like that, the moment ends.

He’s back to being Jungkook, your friend, the boy who teases you about your boring corporate job and buys you ramen without asking.

Yet, it lingers within you. The weight of everything unsaid. The way his words are still lingering, pressing against your ribs, filling every inch of the silence between you.

And no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about it.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.”

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James’s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

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