#do we share some mutual friends? yes

[rubbership]

ive definitely talked about this story before but the one time i dated like just a regular cis girl i threw up on all three of our dates in a row. and then i broke up with her LOL OOPS SORRY

[arachine]

yes, i'm ready (to fall in love)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plans—and one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.

or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.

── ˚₊✩‧₊ contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - don’t do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot

── ˚₊✩‧₊ note: i know this is really long and most people don’t have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction i’ve ever written and i’m really proud of it :(

songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than you’ll ever know barbara mason - i’m ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way

After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didn’t eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just so–different.

Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didn’t take that much effort then to get a man’s number by the end of your outing. 

When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a man’s arm would’ve worked. An ‘accidental’ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe might’ve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looks–have–earned you some weird looks. 

You’re on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you would’ve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince: 

“‘How’s your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?’” 

There’s a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up. 

“I mean, if you want to share,” she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, “I know that after the divorce, I wasn’t there for you like you needed, but I’d like to make up for that–if you’d let me.”

Shoko’s always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. It’s a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask, you know, it’s not this secret thing,” you start, sighing before continuing, “it happened, and it was a mutual decision.”

Shoko hums on the other side, “Well, I’m still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too long…”

“Well, I accept your apology, even if it’s unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual and…there wasn’t really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt Shoko…” you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad. 

“I know, I know, I’m a bad aunt,” she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. “I think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didn’t want to ‘pick sides’, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so I’m assuming you two are on good-terms?” 

Again, you pause, “I mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but he’s such an integral part of my life, I couldn’t do this–all of this–alone.” After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didn’t know was even there. 

You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think they’d question how a person could divorce someone who’s supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, they’d probably think you were still in love with him. But Shoko’s different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily. 

“He is a great father,” she chimes in, “but you two rushed into it so quickly, I don’t think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.”

Although she can’t see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy. 

“Exactly, that was our biggest gripe,” you admit, “We didn’t afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We weren’t husband and wife first, we were parents–and we were young, way too young.”

“You made it, though,” Shoko tries to brighten the mood, “you’re both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.” 

The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level. 

A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like you’re crying when you say, “Ok, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?”

It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes. 

Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him. 

You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after. 

“Hey,” you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. “I heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought I’d pick ‘em out for you.” 

The man’s brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, “Oh, cool, thank you so much!” As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before he’s turning around on his heels to resume his shopping. 

“God, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?” you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. “Okay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.”

Walking up to the man again, you try a different approach–a bolder approach. “Not to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-”

“Babe? Oh, there you are,” a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. You’re stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. She’s gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner. 

Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. That’s when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence. 

“Hi, can we help you?” she smiles, and it’s actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question. 

“Yeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,” you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isn’t exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod. 

“If I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?” The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: ‘did this chick really just ask that?’

Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in rings, isn’t that right, babe?” she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement. 

“Yeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You don’t need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,” he says walking to his partner’s side and wrapping an arm around her. 

Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell they’re the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul. 

“Are you married?” she queries, tilting her head against her husband’s chest.

“I was, now we just…co-parent,” you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time it’s not as genuine.

“Awe, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was actually a mutual decision,” you quip.

“Okay,” she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, “well, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.”

The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You don’t even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t?” Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she can’t see you and the way you’re sliding down against the wall. 

“I did, and I shan't ever again,” a laugh erupts from your throat. 

“I mean, fuck, are we getting old? ‘Don’t believe in rings,’” she mumbles, “Don’t believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?”

Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. “Yeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? ‘Will you marry me? But, actually, you should know I don’t have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that we’re together purely based on vibes and energy,’” you mock, in a not-so-great man voice. 

Shoko’s laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.

“God, you’re so stupid, I can’t breathe,” she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side she’s probably keeling over in her bed. 

“Oh, please. I bet you haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.”

“I haven’t,” she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life. 

“You tried any dating apps?” 

It’s a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what everyone’s doing these days! You’re not that old, you know.”

“Shut up,” you kid, “ it’s just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?” 

“Sure, there’s people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Oh?” you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. “Shoko, have you used a dating app before?” 

The brunette kisses her teeth. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Never.”

There’s a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because ‘she became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her dues’. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces. 

“Fine, fine, maybe I’ve…been on a few dates,” she starts, “–and had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalker–”

“Ieiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?”

“To make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,” she segues, attempting to change the subject, “We should make you a profile!”

For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes. 

The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. It’s a few years old but she says you look ‘radiant’ and that your ‘tits were practically spilling out of the cups’. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars. 

“Everyone’s got at least one old photo on their profile, doesn’t make you a catfish,” she quips, “just means you’re a nostalgic person!” 

“Right…” 

The next one is a selfie. You’re smiling big in it, showing your gums, and it’s genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that you’re approachable. It also won her over because it’s fairly recent, too. 

Out of all your photos, there’s only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match. 

“After the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.”

The picture she’s referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace. 

about 8 years ago . . .

“Dad, mom, look! Hurry!” Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, who’s trying her best to make a sand castle–to no avail. 

“What is it, hon?” Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the ‘threat’. 

“See, it’s baby turtles!” Hana’s squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big that’s missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry. 

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful,” you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he captures–what he used to think then–the ‘prettiest’ photo of you.

“You sneaking photos of me?” you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until he’s standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your head’s tilted up, and you’ve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch. 

“Yup, ‘cause you’re my muse.”

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.

“You still there?” 

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?” she queries, waiting for a response. 

“I wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?”

“Hon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? It’s still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldn’t you include a picture with your girls?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams ‘fuck me’.”

Shoko lets out a small chuckle but you’re being serious. “Oh, sweetie. You’re so cute. Milfs are in these days, I don’t think I’m the one getting old, I think it’s just you!”

“Ha-ha, laugh at the mom,” you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.

“But seriously, please use that photo. Nobody’s going to skip you just because you’re a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,” Shoko reassures you.

By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.

“Keep me updated, and don’t talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, I’m not saying you can’t talk about them,” she begins, “but show these guys your personality! I know she’s in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.”  

Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself. 

You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality. 

“I’d match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.”

The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office. 

“Holy fuck,” you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read ‘50’ but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming ‘100’ with a fat plus sign next to it. “Wait, are these all the people who liked me? Shoko’s gonna flip.” 

Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone. 

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time you’re able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. They’re either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type. 

Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking they’re potential matches, but then the other shoe drops–because there’s always another shoe. You’ll scroll through their profiles, and they’ll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tall–and then, boom. You see their ‘don’t want kids’ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more. 

It’s weird, because your profile preferences are set to ‘have kids’ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, you’re just about ready to head back to your desk but then–you have a hit. 

Your finger hovers over the ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guy’s profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, it’s almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. It’s of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and he’s got his arms draped around their shoulders. 

As you scroll down his profile, you see that there’s even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isn’t embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it. 

The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldn’t be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasn’t too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about that–especially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties). 

Checking the time on your phone, you realize that you’re pushing your little ‘bathroom break’. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.

You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)

Work goes by slower than you’d like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. You’re a little more excited than you’d care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it won’t go through because of the elevator’s poor service.

Kazuki: Oh, they’re moody and grown now, don’t be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile. 

You don’t answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wine–you’re nervous, and you don’t know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.

You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, aren’t they?

The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you don’t even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds. 

Kazuki: Hell yeah they are! 

Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. He’s at that age where he’s starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the ‘easy’ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on him…Tell me, does it ever get easier?

You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now she’s the ring leader, and I’m the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol). 

You: And to answer your question, I’d like to think so? 

You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, you’re going to ignore her advice. 

You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that we’re not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)

Kazuki’s chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think he’s deciding on what to say. 

Kazuki: I can tell we’re gonna get along great. It’s nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated me…

Kazuki: People see kids as ‘baggage’, and it really bothers me. My kids aren’t baggage. They’re the best parts of me. And if someone doesn’t see that, then we have no business getting to know each other. 

Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it. 

His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. You’re glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this). 

You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if we’re being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too. 

You: I’m so glad we matched each other. I’d like to get to know you more. And I’m hoping the feeling’s mutual?

Kazuki: It’s more than mutual. 

Kazuki: Don’t want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? There’s a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I haven’t been to yet. Heard it’s got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago. 

The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. It’s been a hot minute since the last time you’ve done so, but you’re eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesn’t seem too bad either. You’re never one to turn down free dinner.

You: I’d love to, but how soon we talkin’? Gotta see if it’ll align with my schedule.

Kazuki: How’s this Friday at 8 sound? :)

The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like you’re walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.

You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books you’ve recently read, what your kids are up to–but the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half. 

In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risqué or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: ‘Could this meeting be any longer?’. 

You reply to the message with the ‘ha ha’ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way. 

Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult. 

“‘Oh, he’s a dad!” was her initial response, “oh, he’s a dad…and he really loves his kids. You’re meant for each other.’” 

When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.

Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, you’re on video call. 

“Shokoooo,” you drawl, “our date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.” The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet. 

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. “Take me to that section over there–no, not that one–wait, yep, there.” You amble over to the area she’s directing you to through the phone.

“What’s that black little number right there?” She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you haven’t seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body. 

Shoko nods in approval, “That’s the one, babe. Try it on!” 

It’d been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. It’d also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight you’ve gained since becoming a mother. 

The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. She’s so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking. 

“Thank god it’s Satoru’s turn to get the kids tonight,” she says, “‘cause you’re definitely getting some tonight.” 

You roll your eyes, reminding her she’s on speaker phone. “Oh, please. It’s just dinner!”

“Not in that dress,” she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention. 

“Mom, can I come in?” the voice sounds. It’s Haruki. 

“Come in, hon!” 

After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a ‘wow’. You’re just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room. 

“What do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?” you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception. 

“You look really pretty, Mom. I’m glad you’re going out tonight, I mean, you don’t really have friends so I think this will be good for you,” she elaborates, though you wish she would’ve stopped at the compliment. 

Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that she’s okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kids–and not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time. 

“You could’ve stopped at the compliment, punk!” you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, “but thank you. Love you, bun.”

“Love you more, mama.” Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each other’s warmth. You don’t always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly. 

Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time it’s Hana. 

“Ew, what’s going on?” Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know she’s just jealous; she’ll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate. 

“Get over here,” you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they can’t breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this one’s for you. 

“My special girls,” you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, there’s a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone. 

“They’re so big now, they don’t even know their auntie,” she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue. 

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although you’ve been communicating with Shoko again, you haven’t exactly told them. 

“Hey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?” Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here. 

“Your father’s been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?” you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know. 

“Well, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,” Hana mumbles under her breath.

“Okay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I don’t want your dad seeing–” 

“You don’t want dad to see your date, right?” Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know she’s just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him. 

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. There’s a huge, shit-eating grin on Shoko’s face. Somehow she’s responsible for this. You don’t know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it. 

“Okay, thank you, love you, bye!” Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something. 

“Tell him I said hi,” she begins, “–andnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!”

You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. It’s only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder. 

You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of what you’re wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look away–you should, you want to, but you don’t. 

And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, that’s how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact. 

You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase. 

“Hey, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,” you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. They’re unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, you’re not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger. 

Then, he smiles. It’s eerie and fake. “Not a problem, I haven’t been here too long. But, uh,” he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, “Didn’t know you had plans. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?” 

You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasn’t really like him to prod. “No, actually,” you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, “i’m…i’m going on a date,” you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. They’re all crooked now. 

“How come this is the only picture you have up of me,” he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, you’ll indulge in his games anyway. 

“The girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put ‘em all up around the house?” Again, he doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go. 

“Yeah, but I can’t find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?” Haruki speaks up. “I thought I packed it.”

Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. “Sure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?” He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs. 

“Actually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,” you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to ‘freaking hurry up’. 

You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children. 

“They get that attitude from you, you know,” you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep. 

“You sure? Their mom’s got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?” He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendly–too inviting. You want to smack it off of him. 

“Oh, shut u–” the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. It’s a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted. 

Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can go through with tonight. 

When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight you’d go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity. 

Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say. 

He has more to say, and you’re fighting the urge to cry–to not shake out of sheer frustration while you’re still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you can’t even land a date. 

Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversations…Especially since you’ve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.

Kazuki: But if I’m being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized I’ve been asking the impossible of myself…I’m still in love with her, and it’s because I’m in love with her that I won’t allow myself to lead you on any further. 

Kazuki: I think we would’ve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because you’re a really lovely woman, and I’m sorry an asshole is standing you up right now. 

Kazuki: Take care. I know there’s a guy out there just waiting for his shot. 

Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesn’t. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first. 

In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened. 

Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, “Well, looks like I’m staying in tonight.” Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when it’s so very obvious you aren’t. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfish–act out. 

And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch. 

“I was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up o–”

“Will you stop,” he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t regret it. You look at him like he’s got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell there’s something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks. 

Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so you’re not exactly sure why he’s choosing to be so restrained. If he wasn’t going to spit it out, you were going to poke. “What’s your problem?” 

He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom. 

“My problem? What’s your problem?” He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. “Why do you always pretend like you’re not lonely? It’s okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. It’s okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!”

With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gaze–even more so as he continues to tear into you. 

“Why do you even care?!” you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. “It’s not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! We’re not together, you don’t have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. I’m a big girl, and I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.” 

By the time you finish, you’re a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. There’s an awkward silence, one that wouldn’t have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…It wasn’t my intention to come off so strong like that,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t always have to pretend to be fine. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like he’s scared that if he looks too long you’ll disengage from the conversation. 

“It’s okay,” your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. “You’re right, you know. I think I just…I think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, I’ll know it’s not because I got my hopes up.” 

Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you don’t face him because you’re not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting. 

“Even though you’re right, I don’t appreciate the way you came on so strongly. We’re not married anymore, we’re not a couple–we’re co-parents. So if there’s something I want you to know about that’s outside of the scope of our kids, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

Satoru’s face softens. For once you’re being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. “Okay. I respect that,” he says, “But can I ask you something?” The smile on his face is mirthful, like he’s got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow. 

“What?”

“Let me take you to dinner.” 

You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesn’t budge, and that’s when you realize he’s being serious. 

“Wait, what?” 

“Let’s go to dinner,” he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. You’re just waiting for someone to tell you you’re on that old reality show punk’d. 

“Funny, I just poured my heart out to you and now you’re making fun of me,” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. 

“I’m being serious,” he reassures, “you’re already dressed up. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness. 

Being under Gojo Satoru’s gaze was suffocating. 

Giving in, you ask, “So what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?” 

The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. “I’m a little hurt,” he throws a hand over his heart, “don’t you know me by now? I’m a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.”

He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes. 

“I don’t know…” you trail. 

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that they’d go home with their dad tomorrow. 

Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying it anyway. 

“Be good, listen to your sister, she’s in charge,” you pinch Haruki’s cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you. 

“I will mom, I know,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And you,” your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. “Don’t provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.” 

“Fine, whatever. I guess,” she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. “So does this mean the two of you are back together, or?” 

Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, “No.” 

“Okay, cool. Well, have fun,” she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter. 

“Those kids, man.”

“Your kids!” you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you jest, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“How could it be when I’m alive?” He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed. 

When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when he’s trying to concentrate. 

You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you can’t, and it’s irritating. 

This is the second time tonight you’ve been this close, and it’s only this time that you realize something about him is…different. Earlier, he didn’t really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed. 

There’s a sort of piney scent coming from him. It’s not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but it’s enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, he’d made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit. 

Surely, this couldn’t be coincidental? 

“You smell nice,” you blurt, filling in the silence. 

Satoru glances at you, “Thank you.” You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didn’t need to be stroked any more. 

“Don’t let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.”

“Ohhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?”

“Sure, do what you want,” you say, trying to remain indifferent even though you’re failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. “So where are you taking me?” 

“You’ll see,” he glances over, “Just know I’m good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.” 

The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. He’s wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume he’s a valet driver. 

Satoru drops his keys in the driver’s hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesn’t sound like there’s supposed to be a restaurant here. You don’t hear any voices, you don’t even see any security or other passerbyers. 

Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. You’re taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door. 

The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, “Where can I get a good drink?” 

“I heard the bar down the street is nice,” Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.

“Follow me, please.” Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.

“Thank you,” you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isn’t too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. It’s bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. It’s almost child-like in appearance, like you haven’t seen something this cool in a long time. 

Satoru stands beside you and winks. “What d’ya think? Any idea yet where we are?” 

“I think this is fucking cool, and hm,” you take a second to mull it over, “are we at a speakeasy?” 

“Smart girl. Now come on.” Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isn’t a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you. 

“Welcome, what is the name you reserved under?” 

“Gojo.”

Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back that’s secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know you’re only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years you’ve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal. 

The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly. 

“This is nice, really nice, but is it–”

“Legal?” he finishes your sentence, “don’t worry. It’s a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. There’s nothing illegal going on here, promise.” 

While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your past–and your breath catches in your throat. 

If I ever leave you, baby

You can say I told you so

And if I ever hurt you

You know, I hurt myself…

Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru don’t belong in the same sentence. 

You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water. 

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for the night,” he says, placing a menu in front of you, “Can I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?” 

Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows. 

When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, “Just how much time did you have to plan all of this?” 

Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, “What do you mean?” 

You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, “Oh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isn’t it funny they’re playing our old song?” 

Now he’s smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, you’re certain you’ll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly. 

Is that any way for a man to carry on

Do you think I want my loved one gone

Said I love you

More than you’ll ever know

More than you’ll ever know

“So funny,” you counter. 

Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. “1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,” he holds it out to present, “Is this alright?” 

Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass. 

“Thank you,” you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that you’re pleased. 

“This is great, you’re amazing,” you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment. 

“Glad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?” 

Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), you’d shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you don’t. And Satoru’s very persuasive when you’re tipsy. 

“Keep going,” he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. He’s completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words ‘store’ and ‘cute guy’, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didn’t help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed. 

“Fine,” you hiccup, “It was so - so bad, Toru.” He doesn’t miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname you’d always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldn’t stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, so–

“And then she said ‘we don’t believe in rings,’” you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud you’re being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, “I mean, how fucking insane is that?!” 

“Something as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,” he replies, laughing along with you, “those people were crazy.” 

“The craziest,” you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, he’s making an announcement.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight I’ve got a special request,” he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. “This one’s for a very special lady who, from what I’ve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.” 

The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song. 

[...] I don’t even know how to love you

Just the way you want me to

But I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

Yes, I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

“Now this one? This one was me,” Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares you–because then that meant this was a grand gesture–that this was his way of saying something. And you weren’t too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns. 

To fall in love 

To fall in love

To fall in love with you…

“Look at me,” he says softly, but you don’t. “Hey, look at me.” He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, it’s suffocating. They’re so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself it’ll be okay if you surrender to them. 

“It’s been years since we’ve divorced,” his voice is shaky, almost strained, like he’s actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, “and when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,” he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, “but you gotta know…you gotta know–you’re it for me. There’s no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. You’ve always been the beginning and end of my story, and I’ll be damned if I let another man start one with you.”

Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what he’s saying. The only thing you’re focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then he’s squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame. 

“So what do you say?” he says, so softly, so tender. “Can we try again?”

Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. It’s like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage. 

I don’t even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)

At a moment like this

But I’m going to learn how to do 

All the things you want me to

Yes, I’m ready

(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready

To fall in love

To fall in love

To fall in love right now

“Yes.”

The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems. 

The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that it’s within close proximity to where you just were. 

Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loft–it’s over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wanting–yearning, come crashing down. 

There’s barely any time to close the door before he’s pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, it’s instantaneous–that familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling. 

Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and it’s unmerciful. 

Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time you’ve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and he’s the only one who can deliver you salvation. It’s all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs. 

The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and that’s when he says–

“Jump.” 

Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like you’ve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay. 

Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you haven’t stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles). 

“The turbulence up here is crazy, don’t blame me, blame the pilot,” you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it. 

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs. 

“Can’t believe you were gonna wear this for him…” he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, “as if this dress doesn’t mean something.” 

Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falter–but in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didn’t expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago. 

“I didn’t…” you start, a smile creeping on your lips, “think you remembered?”

“‘Course I did, how could I not?” He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldn’t you see that?

“It was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time I’m seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time we’re divorced,” he says, crawling over your body. “Guess I gotta show you just how much I remember.” 

With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. It’s almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees. 

Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound. 

Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which he’s moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know he’s savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core. 

The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “Fuck, Toruuuu,” you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love. 

“Tastes,” a harsh suck, “so good,” another, “better than I remember.” 

You know he’s talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. You’re so caught up in your own high, you don’t even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans you’re making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you. 

Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation. 

For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Way–and all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you don’t come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?

“Did you just bite me?” you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins. 

“Had to get you back from earlier,” he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, “Is this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?” 

You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue. 

“Fuck, Toru,” he mimics, “oh my god, Toru. You fuck me so goo–”

“Alright, enough!” you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. “Keep carrying on like that and I won’t let you fuck me…” You’re serious in your bite, but he’s smirking. Like he knows you’re full of bullshit. 

“Yeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.” 

Feeling bested, you scoff, though, there’s no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor. 

He’s so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since you’ve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, he’d say they were signs of aging, and he’d hate them. 

But he’s older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.

“They suit you,” you whisper. 

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “mhm.” 

Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them down–and he doesn’t once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes. 

Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone. 

God, he’s missed you. Missed your touch, your lips–the way you hold him with your eyes like he’s something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand. 

As soon as you’re about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. “No more playing, I’m tired of playing,” he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you. 

Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears. 

The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like you’re being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasn’t a complete shock to you. You’ve known that he’s always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had something more than just your own fingers. 

Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously. 

“Toru,” your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. “Make love to me.” 

Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm. 

Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything he’s doing is perfect–and it’s to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. He’d know it if you were all old and wrinkly. He’d know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, he’d know it blind. 

“Missed this,” he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, “missed you,” a kiss to your neck, “missed us.” 

The veracity of his words render you speechless. He’s already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that you’re beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldn’t say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that position–but only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You. 

Satoru continues his mindless rambling, “I love you,” a thrust, “it’s always been you,” another, “was always going to be you.” Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now it’s him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally. 

Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt. 

“So beautiful,” he says, but it’s more to himself than anything. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, he doesn’t even think you can hear him. “Want you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,” he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything he’s got and willing to give. 

“Toru,” you finally manage to say, “‘m so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.” 

Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, he’ll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium. 

“Trust me, sweet girl,” he cradles your face, to which you lean into, “I want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know you’d regret it later.” 

Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he can’t help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and it’s scary. Even so, you don’t pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and he’s been quenched for days. 

Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. “Toru!” you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp. 

Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. You’re a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna - ‘m gonna,” he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxes–spurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration. 

By this time, you’ve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. “That was…”

Satoru huffs, catching his breath. “Yeah.” 

Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you. 

Soon, that silence is broken. 

“I love you,” you say, and there’s no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, he’s not even sure it was real. You say it like you’ve never been more certain in your life, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

“Really?” he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like he’s got two heads. 

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. I’ve always loved you,” you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, “I just had to relearn how to love you.” He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying. 

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he mumbles into your neck, “so where do we go from here?”

“From here we take it slow. We’ll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there we’ll see where it goes,” you say matter-of-factly, “no more repeating past mistakes.”

“Agreed,” he nods, “what will we tell the girls?”

That’s when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you. 

“What did I say, what’s wrong?” he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages. 

“We forgot to call the girls!” You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants. 

“Shit!” 

Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. “Satoru, I can’t wear this! You got cum all over it,” you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you. 

“I can’t wear this either, they’ll wonder why I’m wearing your clothes!” 

Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, “We’ll wash it!” he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, he’s out of breath and panting. It’s only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.

“What are you laughing at? Chop chop,” he claps, ushering you into his bathroom. 

Yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this idiot.

comments + reblogs very appreciated !!!

© arachine 2023

[amoressb]

𐙚 old love

pairings : ex bf!riki x reader ; exs to lovers

synopsis : it has been almost a year since y/n and riki have broken up, though the reason behind it is quite silly. simply stating that you both were on different paths. while on your “different” paths, you both reminisce the times you have spent together, the special moments now turned into memories, but what if your paths werent so different at all? especially since both paths lead you to the same tree where you two shared your first kiss together under the enchanting moonlight.

*w.c - 1.6k

*inspired by my favorite song old love by yuji & putri dahlia !!

* this is a long one so i hope you all enjoy till the very end !!

waking up you already knew it would be a particularly sadder day than the rest, as with each day it draws closer to the day you and your ex boyfriend, nishimura riki, broke up. which would now complete a year. a year without, who you consider, your special someone. a year without your best friend. just a year without him.

this is what you both were afraid of when you both started dating. you both were afraid of that one dreaded day where you two would split, but you guys never thought it would happen. that night you both lost the most important thing in your lives.

in the beginning of the break up it was of course very hard to deal with. yes it was a mutual agreement but you both couldn’t help but feel that it was a mistake. both were too afraid to speak up about how they truly feel after they had already agreed to split and that right there was their true problem. communication. you both became very closed off when it came to communicating youre feelings. you both would simply ask each other what was wrong and if neither said anything, it simply gets brushed off.

throughout the rest of the day it was quite noticeable that your mood was down. your friends came up to you, called and even messaged you asking if you were doing okay, but of course you simply said you were fine. it had been like this ever since the beginning of this month. wake up sadder than yesterday and have people ask you if you were feeling okay and you saying you were fine.

you missed riki very badly as did he. it’s unbelievable how you two have gone this far without getting back in contact. the only thing you can think of is going on a late night walk so you grabbed your jacket and headed out.

since it was quite late, the streets were quiet with the occasional cars passing by and the whistle of the wind. while on the walk you started to remember some memories you had with riki, but there was one memory that you will forever cherish. the day you and riki shared your first kiss.

ʚɞ

you and riki have been dating for 3 months and you guys couldnt be happier. since today marks the third month, riki wanted to take you on a sweet date. he surprised you by taking you to a place where you can paint your own pottery. oh how cute this date was. you both decided to make a matching set together.

“so what should we paint my love?” said riki while looking at you with excitement. “ooo do you wanna make a matching set? i think that would be cute!” you said grabbing onto his hand almost jumping in your seat from excitement. “yeah sure but what?” he scooted his chair closer to yours still holding your hand since he felt so far from you even though he was just inches away. “i found this cute design but lets add something to the bottom so its more personalized!” you show him the image of what you wanted to do.

rikis heart melted looking at the image. “lets add i love you at the bottom but yours will say riki mines will say y/n” he gives his idea hoping youd take it. “aww that so cute yes lets do it!” you give him a quick kiss on the cheek and started to get you guys stuff ready. rikis was still stuck on the kiss he received on the cheek. even though youve done it a million times, your lips on him would always spread such warmth through him. he couldnt get enough of you truly.

riki had already finished his cup but you were still at it. this gave riki time to really take in your presence and beauty. he adored the face you make when youre concentrated, getting all serious making sure your details came out perfectly. the way some strands of you hair tends to slowly fall in front of you which allows him to draw himself closer to you and brush it away to see more of your beauty. what he loved most was your eyes. the way your eyes always had this beautiful shine to them no matter what. he fell in love with how your eyes shine brighter than before whenever you look at him because thats the exact way he looks at you, with such love and adoration.

you both completed your art and left with your new mugs. the rest of the day was spent going into some stores buying some cute matching things then ultimately a little cafe. after the cafe it was already dark so to end off the night, you and riki decided to go on a simple walk in the park talking about how your day went.

"i really enjoyed our date kiki, i cant wait to use my mug and all these cute new matching stuff we have now!" you say with a little giggle. oh how he loved your little giggle and your laugh all around. simply just you in general is what he loved so much. "me too and i cant wait to go on many more with you my love" he smiles softly at you.

coming up under a tree, you stare at the moon in awe, “its so beautiful kiki” you continue to look up unaware of rikis gaze on you. “yeah it really is beautiful” he says while you turn to catch his enchanted gaze at you. “y/n..i love you more than anything in this world. youre so beautiful and you always know how to light up someones day even with just that pretty smile of yours and you truly mean the world to me.” as riki says this you cant help but only be able to utter the words “i love you-” before you can finish, you feel his soft lips on yours. it felt like fireworks went off as soon as it happened. you never wanted this moment to end and neither did he. as you two pulled apart you two simply giggle sweetly and rest your foreheads against each others staring at each other with nothing but love.

ʚɞ

its almost like you and riki were still connected somehow because he too was also doing the exact same thing as you. he too was feeling the same as you, sadder than before thinking about how hes been away from you for almost a year. he too decided to take a late night walk and started to reminisce all the times hes been with you, the memories he holds so dear to his heart. especially that one.

i also say you two are still connected because those oh so “different paths” unconsciously lead you both to the exact same place you shared that special moment. you both look up at each other, stunned youre both here right now. slowly you two inched your way closer to each other, now standing right in the same special spot.

you both say hi at the same time which makes you two let out a small chuckle. “so..how have you been?” you asked and right there riki broke. he had to tell you how he was truly feeling, the feeling of utter loneliness. the feeling of that there was something missing from his life and it was you. you were everything he needed and he wanted no he needed you back. “can i be honest with you?” he asked sincerely. “yeah you know you can always be honest with me kiki.” oh that sweet nickname you gave him always made him feel so warm inside. it made him feel so special since it was only you who called him that and he loved it so much.

“well then in all honesty i havent been feeling good recently as it draws closer to one year of us being apart. i dont know how or why i havent reached out to you, i miss you so much. i feel as a whole part of me is missing. youre my missing piece y/n. on the walk here you were all i thought of, all those beautiful memories we have had. heck i still use our matching mug that we made and have all our matching things with me always” he states as he brings up his shirt a bit to reveal his keys attached to his pants with the matching keychains you bought as well as the matching ring you two had bought on his finger. seeing that you brought out your keychain and showed your ring too. you two never did let go of each other.

at the sight of this, you and riki both started to tear up. “please baby, i dont want to be away from you anymore” riki stated as a tear started to fall. you got closer and reached your hand up to his cheek to wipe away his tear smiling softly. “me neither kiki” and with that you slowly leaned in to give him a soft yet passionate kiss to his lips and with a quick yet gentle motion he wraps his hands around your waist to pull you in closer to him. oh how he missed you being this close. eventually you pull away much to you and rikis dismay, “will you be mine again? forever this time?” riki asks with a smile, bringing up one hand to softly stroke your cheek. “yes of course. i love you so much kiki” she smiles. “i love you so much more” he says leaning in for another sweet kiss.

even on “different paths” you and riki found a way back into each others arms and what better place to find each other again than where it all truly began.

* if you made it to the end thank you and i hope you liked it ilya !!

[d3vilcvntz]

silly little crush ♡

top male reader x bottom male character

he has a crush on you for months but feels like he have no chance with you because of your difference in personality. you were the outgoing and loud type of person who have lots of friends. he's basically the opposite of you, shy and can barely makes any friends. he admired you since the first time you approached him. you were just asking the directions to the building as you're new in this department, but something about that small interaction drives him crazy and he doesn't know why. he keeps ignoring these feelings as it's just a silly little crush and he'll probably move on from it later.

he was 2 years older than you, making him your senior so you did talk to him quite a lot after that because he have more knowledge than you. asking him how to do this and that, he's not complaining though. it's actually part of his day that he really looks forward to, even though he doesn't want to admit it.

you did tried to invite him to hang out sometimes but each times, he would just declined and said that he's busy. he's not actually, he just hate interacting with people, other than you of course. he would be down to hang out if it's just two of you though, but it will be weird for him to ask so he just wait for you to do it first. he just doesn't want to be seen as desperate

and the wait is worth it because you did ended up inviting him to hang out at your place. innocently asking him to teach you how to organise some files because you didn't know how to, which is not the main reason why you invited him over obviously. you actually knew about his feelings but keep it casual to see if he'll do anything about it. you taken a liking to him too since the day you got the job. he looks so cool doing his works that it made you wonder how he'll looks like in bed, getting ruined by you

you got bored waiting so why not make the first move ? he arrived at your place and both of you started talking about works as he helped you organised the files like you asked. you offered him to drink with you and get to know each other, i mean, you guys are coworkers after all but barely knows anything about one another. both of you were slowly getting drunks while sharing some personal stories

honestly, it's your first time seeing him this talkative. he's usually quiet in the office. he's so cute like this <3 the way he laughed everytime you make a joke, even though it's a lame one "i actually don't have that much friends so I don't really enjoy going to work everyday.. well that's until i met you" he said, taking another sip on his drink. you were shocked at the sudden topic but just smiled at him, waiting for him to continue "you know..it's funny that i actually like you even though we barely know each other" he spoke again

you paused for a moment "is this a confession?" you teased him, looking at him directly "...what?...wait..wait! i didn't mean that way ! i mean.." he basically panicked, stuttering on his words, face flushed "im sorry..im sorry... i must have creep you out.. i just-" before he can even finish his sentence, you gave him a kiss on the lips, a quick one

he was shocked and quickly backed away, there's a lot he wanted to say and ask but he didn't know why he feels like all of it just got stuck in his throat "i like you too" you told him, getting closer to him. that just answered all of his questions. "the feelings are mutuals then?" you asked him, giving a little smile. he feels like he's about to burst

both of you were in your bed now, you pushed him down, making him lay on it "can i?" you asked, fingers fiddling with his buttons which he responded with a simple yes. you unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his body to you. he's so pretty ♡

his hands grabbed on your shirt, basically asking you to take it off too. you slide your hand in his pants, teasing his cock. he moans so sweetly in your ear <3 you want to hear more of it, no, you need to hear more of it. slowly pulling off his pants and underwear, pouring lube all over your fingers and sliding one of it inside him

you're trying your best to take it slow and make it enjoyable for both of you. you added more fingers as time went by, getting him all stretched out and ready for you

you were trying to grab the condom by your bedside before he stopped you, eyes avoiding yours "we don't need that..it's okay if it's you" he whispered softly. shit, don't think you can't even control yourself anymore if he's this cute !

pushing your cock into him, watching how his hole swallowed you up. thrusting into him with a slow pace to get him used to it. his hands gripping the sheets, soft moans filling up the room. you began to pick up the pace and thrust deeper into him, chasing your own orgasm as well as his

you both came soon after, holding onto each other. you laid beside him with your cock still inside him as you whispered nothing but sweets into his ear, calming him down from his high

you slowly pulled out your cock, earning cute whimpers from him "no...it's gonna leak out" he said so sweetly, shoving his fingers inside his hole to keep your cum inside

it takes everything in you to not just do another round but you wanted to be gentle as this is his first time after all <3 you stood up from the bed to prepare the bath for both of you, trying to distract yourself. you have to clean it all up after all, don't want to sleep all sweaty and sticky

sitting in the bathtub together, cuddling with him between your legs as he leaned onto your chest "this is like a dream to me" he suddenly said, looking up at you with a soft smile. ah, this might be the best day in your life <3

a/n: this is so normal compared to my other works lmfao

[daydreamgoddess14]

congrats on 1k! could i please request bucky with a roommate au and friends with benefits to lovers

Mutual Agreement

Hey Anon! Thank you so much for this request, I hope you don't mind that I linked it to Alternate Shifts as a part 1 😊

Roommate AU Bucky Barnes x f!Reader FWB to lovers

Read on AO3

Warnings: brief p in v, some suggestive post-it notes, vaguely smutty.

Word Count: 791 (yeah, yeah, I know.)

1000 Followers Ficlet Challenge Masterlist

Masterlist

His date clocked you immediately.

“Oh! You didn’t say your roommate was -” she started.

Bucky turned, his expression shifting as soon as he saw you. “Hey. You’re… home early.”

“Yeah.” You dumped your bag a little too hard. “Half day.”

The silence seeped into every corner of the room.

His date gave a tight smile. “I should… probably go?”

“You don’t have to,” Bucky said - but his eyes hadn’t left yours.

She looked between you two, sighed, and grabbed her coat. “It’s cool. Call me if… well. Maybe don't, actually.”

She was out the door before either of you noticed.

He didn’t speak. The only sound was the hum of the fridge.

You finally found your voice, but it felt too casual. “So. Do we have rules about sharing the bed with… guests?”

His jaw tightened. “I wouldn’t have brought her in if I knew you’d be home.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He leaned on the counter, hands clenched. “It’s our bed. Technically.”

“Sure. And I'm not planning on a life of celibacy, but I would not -”

“I didn’t sleep with her,” he said quietly.

You paused. “Oh.”

He stepped closer. “Not that I haven’t thought about how that conversation would go. With you, I mean.”

You swallowed. “Oh.”

He was in front of you now. Inches away.

“You ever think about it?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “You and me? Since we’re… already sharing everything else?”

You looked up sharply.

“I… no,” you breathed. “Yes. I don't - how is it I feel like I barely know you, but at the same time -”

“I know you better than I know myself,” he finished, his eyes dropping to your lips.

“Yeah” You whispered.

And then it just happened.

No hesitation. No question. Like you'd already shared everything except a kiss.

You gasped into it, your back hitting the counter, his hands already under your shirt. You weren’t sure who pushed who - only that you were both tugging, grabbing, chasing the contact like it had been a long time coming.

“Bucky -” you broke off as he lifted you up. His mouth on your neck, your jaw, the shell of your ear.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, hoarse. “Tell me -”

You shook your head and pulled him back in.

Clothes hit the floor in a trail to the bed.

Your bed. His bed. Yours.

The shared mattress that had always been an uncrossed line was suddenly not a line at all.

“Thought about you, alone in this bed,” he murmured against your collarbone, a hand holding your thigh tightly with each delicious snap of his hips, “touching yourself.”

You moaned as his thumb came to circle your clit. “I thought about you,” you admitted, “fuck - wanted you to come home and find me -”

It wasn’t perfect. It was messy and fast and tangled - a little frantic, like you were both terrified it might end - but when it did, neither of you moved for a long time.

Just quiet breaths and the rise and fall of his chest under your hand.

When you woke, you were alone again.

You sleep like a starfish. Have a good day. – Bx

The notes started again. A little differently.

Woke up thinking about you. xo

Careful. I wake up hard enough without help. – Bx

Left you a banana. Not a euphemism. (Unless you want it to be.) xo

Bed is too cold. P.S. Dreamed about you. Bx

If we’re gonna keep sharing this bed, I vote we start making better use of it… xo

You'd put the note in its usual place and headed out - hearing his motorbike round the corner as the bus pulled up.

When you returned home, he was still there.

Waiting.

The post-it was in his hand. He didn’t say anything.

You dropped your keys.

He kissed you like he’d been thinking about it all day.

And maybe he had, because when he pulled you into his arms, it was fast and filthy and completely inevitable.

It happened again.

And again.

And in between, the notes.

You weren't dating.

You barely saw each other.

And when you did see each other, there was only ever one outcome.

But then you woke up warm, tangled in him, your fingers absently tracing the freckles on his shoulder.

“You’re still here,” you whispered.

His eyes cracked open, soft with sleep. “Didn't want to leave this time.”

So that became the pattern. Friday nights turned into Saturdays. Then Sundays. Then Thursdays, too.

Until one morning, he caught your wrist as you were leaving for work.

“Can we…” he began, his voice low. “Can we stop pretending this is casual?”

You smiled, heart hammering.

“Finally,” you said. “I was starting to think you’d never ask.”

Tagging: @knowledgeableknitter , @ficmeiguess , @ozwriterchick , @thenameswinter99 , @themareverine , @boomyoulookingforthis , @florie1 , @crdgn , @winchestert101 , @stevetonycupcakes , @lolobeey , @bts43a , @gumballofshame , @tessastarfire , @buckytakethewheel , @multifandomneeerd , @furiousprincesskingdom , @s-sh-ne

[notlongtolove]

your hand in my hand

after derek’s less-than-intellectual speech about how he was not spending four uninterrupted hours on a train with reid, hotch’s solution was to pair you with spencer instead. and between your notorious driving and spencer’s—well, spencer’s worse driving, the only logical option was the train.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: mutual pining spencer and bau!reader embark on a 4 hour train ride and share some cute moments over a wordsearch book

word count: 3.1k

note: finished finals n hopped on a flight n came back n wrote this on 4 hours of sleep jst bc i couldn't get the idea of a train ride out of my head...

a line: The sight of your bag in his hand was one you could get used to. It was a sight that made you think of Sunday mornings and shared coffee mugs.

It’s beautiful out there— fields, little lakes and winter trees in February sunlight, every car park a shining mosaic. Long radiant minutes, your hand in my hand, still warm, still warm. -wendy cope

“I still think this is a terrible idea.”

“It’s only a four-hour train ride.”

“Yeah, but it could’ve been a two-hour drive.”

“Two? It’s three at the minimum. Danville is—”

“Not if I’m driving,” you smirk. 

“And that is exactly why I told Hotch I would not be getting in a car with you.”

Hotch had assigned you and Spencer to check out a secondary lead while the rest of the team travelled out to work a case. After Derek’s less-than-intellectual speech about how he was not spending four uninterrupted hours on a train with Reid, Hotch’s solution was to pair you with Spencer instead. And between your notorious driving and Spencer’s—well, Spencer’s worse driving, the only logical option was the train.

Not that it stopped Spencer from pointing out every possible flaw in your driving on the way to the station.

“I’m not that bad, I swear!” you had protested, rolling your eyes.

“You got two speeding tickets in the last two months.”

“One month,” Garcia had chimed in over the phone. “And actually, technically, it’s three tickets.”

You groaned. “The third one didn’t count! The cop was just—”

“And don’t even get me started on your sense of direction,” Spencer mumbled. 

“Pretty girl, I love you, but I’d get in a car with Reid before you, and that’s saying a lot,” Morgan’s voice rang out from over the line.

“Thank you!—Wait, hey!” Spencer spluttered.

By the time you make it to the station, its clear that your BAU Jet Privileges had not prepared you for public transportation. “Wheels up in thirty” definitely did not translate to “trains only leave when you’re ready.”

“Can’t we just tell them we’re, like, important or something?” you grumbled, stretching to peek over the crowd in front of you.

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Spencer muttered, clutching his satchel as he scanned the line. His brow furrowed in that nervous way you’ve come to recognize, the one he always got when cases ran too close to the wire or people hovered just a little too close in his personal space.

As they announced the final boarding call over the station’s intercom, Spencer’s anxiety ramped up, practically vibrating beside you. You, of course, were less concerned. “Relax,” you teased, nudging him. “What are they gonna do, leave without us?”

“Yes,” Spencer snapped. “That’s actually exactly what they’re going to do.”

When a harried-looking attendant opened a new line to speed things up, Spencer grabbed your bag—“God, what is in here?”—and marched you both toward the front of the queue.

“You two together?” she asked, as she gestured between the two of you.

“Oh, uh, no—just friends,” Spencer stammered, color rising in his cheeks.

She blinked at him. 

“Spence, she’s referring to our tickets.”

“Oh! Right, right.” He fumbled with his pocket as you handed yours over, suppressing a grin.

Flustered Spencer was your favorite Spencer. Of course, you’d never admit it out loud, but there was something endlessly endearing about seeing him off-balance, especially if you were the cause. Not the encyclopedia, not the profiler, just Spencer. It was a rare glimpse into the version of him you cherished most. The Spencer who remembered your coffee order, who stayed up with you in hotel lobbies when you’ve had one too many said cups of coffee, who once held your hand for 15 whole minutes after you found a kid’s drawing in a victim’s room and couldn’t keep it together.

It was also a little dangerous. Not in the same way your driving was dangerous (though Spencer might argue otherwise), but in the way where you sometimes wondered if you’d crossed some invisible line. If the lingering hugs and casual touches that weren’t exactly casual meant more than either of you were willing to say. But those were dangerous thoughts, ones best left in the quiet recesses of your mind. So you pushed them aside, as you always did, and focused on the here and now.

The here and now being Spencer, still blushing faintly as he grabbed your bag and adjusted it over his shoulder, his brow furrowed with some internal muttering about how much you packed. When the attendant waved you through with a tired smile and Spencer started making a beeline for your platform with your bag in tow, you couldn’t help but grin. 

“Thanks, partner,” you teased, earning a glare that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Just get on the train,” he grumbled, turning away before you could see the corners of his lips twitch upward.

The two of you made your way through the carriages after a brief but spirited debate about whether to walk outside along the platform to reach your assigned car or board the train immediately and navigate through it. Predictably, Spencer had won, and now you were squeezing past narrow aisles and weaving through clusters of passengers with a litany of “Excuse me,” “I’m so sorry,” and even a “I didn’t mean to step on your foot sir,” from you.

By the time you finally reached your carriage, the train had already started moving. Spencer shot you a pointed “I told you so” look that made you roll your eyes as you flopped into your seat. Spencer wrinkled his nose as he lowered himself hesitantly into the seat beside yours, clearly doing his best not to make contact with any of the surfaces he deemed less than pristine. His discomfort was almost palpable, the slight twitch of his fingers betraying his thoughts. Public transport wasn’t exactly his favorite—as he’d once explained in great detail, something about microbial colonies on handrails and seats. You leaned back, watching as he tried to situate himself, his satchel perched protectively on his lap like it might shield him from the horrors of public commuting.

“So,” you said, hoping to distract him, “what joys of reading did you bring along for this glorious journey?”

Spencer glanced at you, then sighed, reaching into his bag. “The Sign of Four,” he said, taking out a well-loved copy of the Sherlock Holmes novel.

“Ooh, a classic,” you replied with an approving nod.

“And you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he settled into the question, visibly relaxing, if only a little. His fingers smoothed the corner of his book, but his eyes stayed on you, curious.

You grinned, the kind of grin that promised trouble—or at least something Spencer would find mildly exasperating. Reaching into your bag, you dug through the chaos of receipts, snacks, and whatever else you’d deemed necessary for a four-hour train ride.

“You’re not going to watch something on your phone again are you?” Spencer said, his tone laced with a mix of exasperation and earnest concern. “You do realize that watching something on a phone during a train ride is fundamentally different from doing so on a jet, right?"

“Hold your horses,” you said, your tone light and teasing. “It’s in here somewhere.”

Spencer continued, "The vibrations and lateral motion of the train create a parallax effect that forces your eyes to constantly refocus, which can lead to ocular fatigue and even mild vertigo in some cases—”

“Calm down,” you interrupted, cutting off his impromptu lecture as you pulled out a shiny new word search book. You held it up triumphantly. “Snagged it in the station lobby.”

“I thought you said you needed the restroom.”

“I did,” you said, smirking as you flipped through the book’s pages. “And then I saw this. Couldn’t resist.”

Spencer narrowed his eyes, glancing at the bright, cartoonish cover. “It says meant for ages 10 and up.”

“And last I checked, I am most definitely over the ripe old age of 10, Genius.”

Spencer shook his head, a small, begrudging smile finally breaking through his earlier apprehension. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, but there was a lightness in his voice now that made you grin even wider

“And yet,” you countered, “here you are, stuck with me for the next four hours. Lucky you.”

Spencer sighed dramatically, but you didn’t miss the warmth in his eyes.

The train rattled gently as it picked up speed, the two of you settling into your books. Spencer had opened his novel, but the words on the page blurred as his attention kept drifting. You weren’t exactly helping—constantly shifting in your seat, furrowing your brow in concentration as you hunched over your word search book. He tried to focus, he really did, but his gaze kept flicking away from the neat lines of his novel.

You were stuck on the word minimal when he finally caved.

“Top left, vertically,” he said without looking up.

Your brows furrowed for a moment before Spencer reached over and pointed it out for you. “Oh, thanks!” you replied cheerfully, circling the word with gusto.

At first, it had been helpful, funny even, maybe even a little cute. But by the third time he chimed in with a casual, “Parachute. Bottom right, backwards,” you were ready to stage a mutiny.

“You’re ruining word search!” you declared, tearing the book away from his gaze, clutching it dramatically to your chest.

Spencer laughed, an unrestrained, boyish sound that made your cheeks flush. “It’s not my fault you’re so bad at it!”

You gasped, leveling him with a mock glare. “Spencer Reid, you take that back right now!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, still grinning, “but it’s like you have horse blinders on or something.”

“Oh, if you’re so good, why don’t you do it?”

It wasn’t a challenge so much as an invitation, but Spencer, being Spencer, took it as both. He snatched the book from your hands, scanned the grid, and completed the puzzle in a little under two minutes.

“Show-off,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help smiling as he handed it back launching into an explanation about linguistic patterns and visual recognition.

You both settled into a rhythm, solving the rest of the puzzles side by side. You held the pencil—because, as you put it, you deserved the pencil holding honor—though Spencer still pointed out words before you even had a chance to finish reading the list.

“Butterfly. Horizontal, top left,” he said without missing a beat.

“I saw that! I was getting to it!” you protested, circling the word with exaggerated flair.

Spencer smiled to himself as he watched you, his book long forgotten. Just as you had your favorite version of him, he had his own of you, one he’d never admit aloud. There was something about these little moments—when your carefully curated wit gave way to playful exasperation—that he absolutely adored. No clever retorts, no sharp-edged humor, just you. 

The two of you had been working on the word search together for a while now, the small book balanced precariously on the shared armrest between your seats. Naturally, you’d both leaned in closer without realizing it, the space between you narrowing as the train rattled along. But after a few jerks on the track Spencer notices you shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your expression tightening just slightly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice gentle as he glanced at you.

“Armrest’s digging into my side,” you admitted, twisting a little as if to escape the offending object, the smile you tried to muster falling a little short. 

“Ah,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact, “Put it up, then.”

The version of you from an hour ago might have quipped something sarcastic, turning the moment into yet another teasing exchange. But travel fatigue had set in, and the closeness of Spencer—his voice, his warmth, the way he seemed to notice everything—had you more flustered than you cared to admit.

“Oh. Okay,” you murmured, your voice quieter than usual as you moved the armrest up and shifted in your seat. The tension in your posture eased as you repositioned, feeling the strain fade. 

“Better?” he asked, his head tilting slightly as he studied your face.

“Mm. Slightly.” you replied, though the truth was that it was a lot better. Without the armrest, you found yourself acutely aware of how close he was—his arm brushing against yours, the subtle scent of his cologne, the way his knee bumped against yours when the train swayed.

Spencer nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer, but the faintest hint of a smile lingered on his lips. He shifted slightly too and returned his attention to the forgotten book in his lap. But his fingers drummed idly on the cover, and you could tell his focus was no longer on Sherlock Holmes.

“Let me guess,” you said after a moment, trying to ground yourself in the familiarity of banter. “You’re going to tell me the science behind why train seats are designed to be this uncomfortable?”

Spencer glanced at you, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Actually, I was going to say that the armrests are poorly engineered for optimal comfort. But now that you mention it—”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” you interrupted, groaning as you rolled your eyes, though your grin betrayed you. “Spare me the ergonomics lecture, Doctor Reid.”

Without the armrest dividing you, the space between your shoulders disappeared almost entirely, a quiet sort of intimacy neither of you acknowledged aloud. At first, it was just the puzzle again, you gently nudging the book towards him every now and then, his finger tracing a word before you could even spot it.

“Reindeer. Top right, diagonal,” he said for the third time, his tone just shy of smug.

You circled furiously with a huff. 

It didn’t take long for your enthusiasm to bubble over, the book tipping dangerously toward your face as you leaned forward in an effort to beat him to the next word. After the second near miss, Spencer plucked it from your grasp entirely, holding it at what he claimed was the optimal distance for focus while on a moving train—Though he still let you retain your pencil holding privileges. 

You leaned back with an exaggerated sigh, resting your chin in your hand as you scanned the page. Now, your shoulder didn’t just brush his in passing—it lingered, resting lightly against his as you stretched toward the book in his hands. The contact was unassuming, almost accidental, but you made no move to pull away, and neither did he. Spencer noticed—you were sure of it. How could he not? But if he minded, he didn’t say anything. You caught the faintest twitch of his lips, the smallest sign that he was aware. Maybe even liked it. 

You found yourself leaning more and more, your eyelids growing heavy as the minutes passed. Spencer’s presence was warm beside you, an unspoken comfort that made it easy to drift. It felt like the simplest, most natural thing to surrender to it. You’d handed Spencer the honor of holding the pencil 2 puzzles ago as your head slowly tilted, the weight of it pulling you so temptingly toward his shoulder. A soft sigh escaped you, and before you knew it, your eyes had fluttered shut. Spencer glanced down at you, the way your breathing softened, a perfect stillness that made his chest tighten. 

He didn’t know if he should move away. He knew he didn’t want to. So he stayed where he was, fingers curled loosely around the book, watching as the rhythmic back-and-forth of the train mirrored the gentle rise and fall of your chest. After another slight lurch, your head finally made contact with his shoulder. Spencer stilled, his breath catching in his throat. The way your hair brushed against his cheek while your knee pressed gently against his. How your hand lay across his on the book, a lingering trace of your last attempt to spot a word before he did.

It was all too much for Spencer—and yet, it was just right. 

He dared not move. He didn’t pull back, even though your hair tickled his face. His knee remained pressed against yours, despite the rhythmic sway of the train threatening to break the contact. His hand stayed where it was resting beneath yours on the book, his fingers loosely curled around the pencil, though the book was long forgotten. He stayed, in this unexpected, perfect stillness.

Before he could stop himself, his head had tilted and found its place upon yours. It was comforting, the contact grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. Spencer let his eyes close, the steady hum of the train and the warmth of your presence lulling him into a strange sense of calm.

When the train finally eased into the station, the gentle jolt stirred you awake. You felt your cheeks warm as the reality of the crowded station seeped back in, the intercom announcements and bustling crowds breaking the intimacy of the moment. Spencer’s eyes were still closed, his breathing even. With a small, almost reluctant sigh, you nudged him awake, the touch soft but insistent. He blinked, looking at you with a hint of confusion that melted into a small smile when he realized where he was.

“Hey,” you murmured, a touch of embarrassment in your voice.

“Hey,” he replied, a soft warmth in his expression. 

“You dropped my word search,” you mumbled, nodding toward the book now resting forgotten on the floor between your feet. 

 “Hm?” He sat up straighter, looking at you with a bit of sleep still clouding his gaze. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you shifted, a little embarrassed at the way you’d curled into him, “I’m sorry I slept on you.”

Spencer’s smile was soft and reassuring. “S’fine. I didn’t mind.”

You felt a flush creep up your neck, spreading heat to your face. You quickly bent down to grab your bag, fingers fumbling with the strap, hoping the movement would distract you. But before you could lift it, Spencer’s hand closed over the strap. You feel your heart thump at the gesture, the simplicity of it making you pause for a moment longer than necessary. The sight of your bag in his hand was one you could get used to. It was a sight that made you think of Sunday mornings and shared coffee mugs. Dangerous thoughts. 

As you stepped off the train, you instinctively reached for your phone, its screen lighting up with an influx of notifications. Hotch’s name stood out among the messages.

“Hm. Hotch asks if we need a driver for the ride back,” you said, raising your phone to show him, “Says he’ll send a van if we want.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed as he looked at the screen, the thoughtful expression on his face almost too easy to read. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice casual but with a note of curiosity.

You shrugged, the practiced ease of your movements not quite matching the fluttering in your chest. “I think we’re fine,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light, “unless you want to?”

“Yeah,” he smiled then, the corner of his lips tilting up, “Think the train was just fine.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: north by clairo saw you in a dream by the japanese house

[darylbrainrot]

KISSING IN CARS

WHERE you go on a terrible date, so hamzah makes you feel better (4.8k words) ⤷ hamzah x f!reader, friends to lovers (kinda), yearning, and fluff

As we wake up in your room, your face is the first thing I see. The first time I’ve seen love and the last I’ll ever need.

— kissing in cars (bonus track), pierce the veil

You and Hamzah have been friends for years, meeting through a mutual friend. You met him during the start of 4freakshow, and you were close. You called and texted practically daily and told each other everything even though you lived miles apart. When you finished high school, you moved into an apartment in Toronto, Canada, to give yourself the independence you craved.

So when Hamzah asked a huge favor, in which he asked if he would be able to move in with you until he got on his feet after moving into Canada in 2021, you of course said yes. It was your best friend after all, so having the opportunity to see him every day after only seeing him behind a screen was a huge blessing. So you told him yes and that he would be welcomed in for however long needed.

And before you knew it, he lived with you. Living in your homey apartment together with shared responsibilities. It was something you loved, something you both loved. The number of times you’d be able to hang out with him, the silly little “girls” nights out you and him would go on in which he always insisted on paying, or the number of times you both would stay home and cozy up on the couch and binge movies were some of the things you loved about living with your best friend.

But in the years of living with each other, you developed feelings for him. It was tricky managing these feelings. You saw him every day, saw him in the mornings to nights. You saw how he looked in the mornings, his curly hair all ruffled with his movements in his sleep, the way his voice would be raspy when he told you good morning, and the way his eyes were half-lidded from waking from his slumber. It felt like a dream seeing him in such an intimate light, only for you to realize you can only look and not touch because he wasn’t yours.

That was one of the most painful pills you had to swallow, that was the only con with him living with you.

So, you tried getting over this silly little crush you had on him. It felt impossible, but to be totally honest, it never left. You only pushed it down further and further till you made yourself believe you didn’t like him anymore.

You went on dates, texted guys, hooked up with some here and there, but deep down you knew that it would never be what you wanted— all because it wasn’t him, it was never hamzah that you saw in these romantic moments.

—

Today you had another date, it was with this guy named Daniel. You and him have been texting for a couple of weeks, debating on when and where would be the best time to go on a date for the both of you. But your schedules lined up and today worked the best.

He wasn’t ugly, he was attractive. He had nice big eyes, wavy hair, and a nice muscular build. You didn’t realize it, well maybe you did, but, you had looked for a version of hamzah in him. Daniel had features he shared with Hamzah. You were trying to look for hamzah in Daniel. Guessing that if you couldn’t have hamzah, you’d go for something as close to the original.

Yet, even though you felt anxious, you got ready. Hours spent doing your hair, makeup, and outfit to see Daniel. You felt pretty, those countless hours you put in your appearance for some guy who didn’t know who you truly were.

Hamzah was out today, filming a vlog with Martin for new content for their channel slushy noobz. So you had the whole apartment to yourself while getting ready.

Finally, the clock struck 3:30 which was a sign for you to leave the apartment and start driving your way to this cute little diner. It wasn’t that far away, only a 20 minute drive.

You arrived at the diner, finding a spot to park, and you headed inside. It was a retro diner, with hues of blues, pinks, silvers, and white adorning the walls giving it a bright atmosphere. It was cute, even though the colors could be an eyesore, you enjoyed this place.

Sitting down in a booth by the window, the baby blue vinyl of the booth chair sticking to your legs as you scooted closer to the window. You took a look at your phone, sending Daniel a quick text that you arrived at the diner. Unconsciously checking if you have received a text from Hamzah, you started to scroll mindlessly on Instagram looking for something to pass the time till your date arrived.

A few minutes later, a server came up to your table.

“Hello miss, I will be your server today. Are you ready to order?” Her notepad was ready out in her hand, a pen accompanying it.

“Oh, not right now, I’m waiting for someone. Thank you.” You sent her a kind-hearted smile as she nodded in approval. Sending you a smile, you saw her walk up to another booth.

You sighed, checking your phone once again for any messages only to see that Hamzah texted you.

hamzah: hey hamzah: where r u? hamzah: I just got back home from filming with Martin and saw u weren’t here, I brought u some food you: sorry!! I forgot to tell you I went out, I’ll be back in a couple of hours I think you: save me that food tho, don’t eat it pls hamzah: okay I’ll leave it in the fridge hamzah: if it’s gone don’t blame it on me, it was the cats.

You smiled at his texts, he always managed to put a smile on your face even through small actions.

you: how’d filming go? What did u guys do hamzah: it went good!! We and Martin just went around a mall and ended up doing another mukbang lol you: so is the food you got me the left overs? hamzah: no never, i got u ur own order that I thought ud like

Reading his text, you went to message Daniel a quick text.

You: hey, just got here at the diner - you: hey Daniel, u running late?

No response. Maybe he just is running late, I mean it has only been 10 minutes since you got here. You’ll give him another 10 just incase he really is running late. Sighing, you opened back hamzahs texts. You were both chatting about whatever, talking about funny things hamzah saw with Martin during their filming today.

You always replied with full enthusiasm that hamzah always had when talking about things he enjoyed. Giving him your full attention even though you were only texting. You always gave him your full attention, even if he wasn’t talking to you, you would always gravitate towards him. Whether it was giving him small glances you hoped he wouldn’t notice, or just being around his general vicinity. Knowing he was there near you was comfort enough.

Before you knew it, another 15 minutes passed. You’ve been sitting here for a total of 25 minutes probably looking like a buffoon to the workers here and those who are eating here. Even though realistically, you didn’t really care about this date, it felt humiliating to be stood up. You felt like you had a big giant poster taped to your head with bright bold letters saying “I GOT STOOD UP!”.

It was whatever— truly. It’s not like you even cared. It’s not like you felt that you would never get or enjoy a successful relationship because you were still stuck on hamzah. Hamzah was perfect, everything you could ever want but you knew he didn’t want you.

Well, you didn’t have solid proof that he didn’t want you. It was more of an educated guess that he didn’t want you. Maybe it was you just being biased and being self-conscious. Self-deprecating thoughts were the only thoughts you knew— as toxic as they were, it was the only comfort that you knew.

So of course you never wondered too hard if Hamzah actually wanted you in the way you wanted him. You wanted him in a way that was not platonic, you wanted to hold him, and soothe away his worries with kisses and pecks that you knew he deserved and longed for.

Sighing, you got up and left. Starting your drive back home form another unsuccessful date. Another con of being stood up was the waste of time you spent on makeup, hair, and a cute outfit.

Finding parking in your apartment lot, you checked the time and it was now 4:40. Sighing and locking your car, you made it up to your apartment room and opened the door.

You hung up your keys and found Hamzah laying half asleep on the couch with red and blue laying at his side with some crappy tv show put on as a sort of white noise for him.

Hamzah hearing the front door open, he turned around to look at you with those half-lidded eyes that you always loved and that messy head of curls that sat oh so perfectly even in their ruffled condition. It was ethereal how beautiful he was when he didn’t even try.

He shot you a confused look, he took note of your bad posture, heavy eyes matching the heavy look of your shoulders, and the slight frown you had that matched the furrow of your brows. A small prominent wrinkle formed between your brows, the one that he always found cute but never spoke out about it.

“You go on a date?” He asked, confused as he took account of your appearance. Your hair done the way he always found complemented you best, the outfit he always loved seeing you in, and your makeup done to perfection— accentuating the apples of your cheek and every divot and curve of your perfect face. The face he could stare at for hours without shame.

Oh, how he yearned to be those men you would with on dates. He knew how they were based on how you described how the dates were after you got home. They either went well but ghosted you after one more week of talking or they completely stood you up. God, he wanted to be that man taking you on a date and show you he wasn’t like them. To show you he could appreciate every single little detail about you.

To show you he loved every single flaw and imperfection you thought you had because, to him, they were never imperfections, they were little details that made you perfect. Even though you got agitated easily, he found that endearing, even though you mentioned how your face was asymmetrical, he never noticed that but only noticed the pure and raw beauty behind that supposed asymmetry. Because asymmetry is always more dynamic and interesting in art, and you were the most beautiful piece of art ever. As if you were hand-painted by Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Rembrandt, Vincent van Gogh, and Pablo Picasso, themselves.

He would treat you right. He knew that. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement that he knew was 100% correct.

You nodded to his question, throwing your sweater on the backrest of the sofa where Hamzah's head didn’t occupy.

“How’d it go?”

“Got stood up, this is like the millionth time now. I think it’s a sign from heaven.” You chuckled a dry laugh.

Hamzah was upset, not at you but at that douchebag who stood you up. What could he not see in you? You were perfect in every way.

As you sat down by Hamzah's feet, red and blue crawled towards you asking for some cuddles. Hamzah cut your thoughts short.

“Get up, we’re going out and I’m driving.”

“What?” You asked, confusion lacing your face. Those wrinkles that Hamzah loved forming between your brows again.

“You heard me, I’m taking you out. We can’t let this day go to waste— wait first, let me put something decent looking on.” He said, as he ran to his room to look for something nice to wear. He had settled on wearing some nice jeans, a plain colored sweatshirt, and some boots.

He didn’t want to go all out because he wanted you to be the main center of attention. He wanted people to turn their necks and look at you rather than look at him.

But you were still confused about what Hamzah was planning.

He came back to the living room to see you sitting down on the couch with red and blue on your lap. You turned around to see him, noticing his attire and complimenting him.

“You look nice, hamzah, but um- what are you doing”

“Well since that dude stood you up, I’m taking you on a date.” He said as he grabbed his keys from where he left them on the coffee table in the living room.

“You know you don’t have to do that, it’s not that big of a deal.” You sighed, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You admired what Hamzah was doing for you.

“Well, I’m not doing it because I have to, I’m doing it cause I wanna. So get up and let’s get going.” He smiled at you, reaching his hand to the couch so you could take his hand.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you debated if you should go. Going on a date with a guy you secretly liked for a year and more seemed like fun, but it could also cause you harm. Deciding to fuck it, you grabbed his hand and he pulled you up.

Both of you bid farewells to your cats, you made your way out of the apartment to hamzahs car. Still, hand in hand, something you wished for for god knows how long.

Finally reaching his car, you went to open the passenger seat until Hamzah beat you to it, opening the door wide for you. Giggling at his chivalrous act, you sat down and thanked him.

He made his way towards the driver's seat and started the heater.

“Connect to the car and play whatever playlist, I have an idea of where to take you.”

Nodding, connecting with Bluetooth, you started to play the playlist you and Hamzah had made together a while back when you both were in school. It had some of your old favorite songs, both of your music tastes blending together almost seamlessly.

Nodding along with the lyrics and melody of the song, you asked Hamzah a question.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see when we get there. I saw this place a while back when I was driving back home after going over Martin’s place and it reminded me of you.” He looked at you as he started to drive off from the parking space, giving you glances as he went to the road.

“Can you at least give me a hint so I can guess?” You said, looking out the passenger window to try to look for hints at where you were going.

“Hmm, you’ve mentioned you wanted to go here before, like 5 months back or around there.” He said, turning to you as he kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his leg.

You were trying to recall from the countless conversations you've had with him on places you've mentioned that you wanted to go. Biting the inside of your cheek, brows furrowed, you were in deep thought. And before you knew it, you arrived at the place that Hamzah wanted to take you.

"We're here," Hamzah said, as he parked his car and turned to look at you to wait for your reaction. Nothing but admiration and sweetness behind those big eyes you loved.

You looked out the front windshield, reading the name and seeing how it was a record store. You remembered that you mentioned wanting to go to a record shop for new records because you wanted to expand your collection, wanting to have more records to play on your record player.

You turned to Hamzah, a big grin on your face. A look of pure appreciation on your face.

"You actually remembered I wanted to go to a record shop?" That smile on your face never leaves.

"Of course I did," he said as he took off his seatbelt and got out, quickly hurrying his way towards the passenger door and opening it for you.

"Thank you so much, sir." You laughed, nearly forgetting about the fact that you got stood up.

You guys entered the record shop, it was nice, It was filled with warmth and had a crazy variety of records from your favorite bands and singers. The aesthetics of this record shop kind of matched yours, which made you wonder if that's why Hamzah said it reminded him of you.

You started looking around on their organized shelves, hamzah trailing behind you as he watched you. He had this look of pure care and longing behind his eyes as if all he truly needed in his life was you by his side. He thought you looked most beautiful in this state, a strand of hair tucked behind your ear with more hair flowing over your shoulder like a waterfall, the concentration in your eyes while you look for your favorite albums, and the slight upturn on the corner of your lips. The lips he had dreamt about meeting his own lips.

"Are you going to buy any, Hamzah?" You said, while moving the variety of records around looking for the one you've been wanting for a long time.

"Maybe, ill probably look for that Kendrick album I've been listening to non stop." He said, taking a look around at the selection in front of him.

"GNX? I always hear you blasting it whenever your in your room or showering," taking a quick glance at his direction, you see him shuffling through the R&B genre, looking for that specific album.

"Is it seriously that loud?" He laughed, never noticing how loud he was playing his music.

"Yeah, I'm surprised we haven't gotten noise complaints from our neighbors." Smiling as you looked though the pop-punk genre and pulling out Bleed American by Jimmy Eat World, one of your top albums that you were looking for.

Continuing to look through this genre, Hamzah made his way towards you after finally finding GNX.

"Which other records are you looking for?"

"uh- im looking for Take This to Your Grave by Fall Out Boy, Riot! by Paramore, Move Along by The All-American Rejects, and This Is Forever by She Wants Revenge. I don't know if I should buy them all or pick certain ones, I have a bit extra money I've been saving for myself because I was planning to buy them but you beat me to it today and brought me to a record shop," counting the records you wanted on your fingers trying to pick between buying them all or only buying a couple or so.

"What are you thinking to do?" Hamzah asked, creating a plan in his mind if you only decided to buy some.

"I think ima buy the Paramore and She Wants Revenge albums, ill probably buy the others when it won't break my bank account." You said as you found the two albums you were talking about.

Hamzah nodded along, already looking for the other albums you mentioned to buy you them. He was going to pay for today after all, he wasn't going to let you pay let alone only walk out with two out of the four records you've been wanting for so long.

He found the other two you wanted and hid them behind his GNX vinyl, following you as you just looked around the cozy shop, admiring the decore and the variety of colors the records gave the shop, while Hamzah was only admiring you.

You two had spent roughly an hour and a half at this shop, noting that the time read 6:48 pm now.

"Wanna go out to eat real quick then we head home?" Hamzah asked, noting the time as well as he felt his hunger rise.

"Yeah, how about fast food? We haven't had that in a while."

He nodded as you both made your way towards the checkout, the worker behind noting you both and sending you both a nod.

Placing all 5 types of vinyl on the table, you somehow still didnt notice the extra two that Hamzah snuck on the checkout, and as you go reach for your wallet in your jacket pocket, you realize that Hamzah beat you to it. His card was out already as he passed it to the worker as the cash register display read a total of 170 dollars.

You, confused, look at Hamzah with a type of stare full of confusion and hesitation.

As the worker passes Hamzah a bag with all the records, you both start heading out of the shop.

"Why did you do that? Buying 3 records would not cost that much, too, did you put other ones in there?" You asked him, still confused over that whole interaction.

"Because I wanted to and those other records are for you, I know how much you've wanted them so I bought them for you." He states matter of factly.

Still confused, you both made your way towards his car, sitting in there quickly. You were still on about how he casually dropped nearly 170 dollars on you just because you had a bad date.

"How do you casually just spend that much money on me just because I had a bad date? Like I do appreciate it a lot, don't get wrong, but that's like an insane amount. Are you sure you don't want to go back in the shop and return at least a couple back? Like that seemed way-"

Hamzah says your name, trying to calm your rambling, but you still continue. You didn't ignore him, you were just stuck in your own thoughts and overthinking.

"-too much to spend on me for no reason. Like I'm being so serious right now, that was needed. You taking me out here just because of something I mentioned a while ago made my day basically, so this wasn't needed honestly," you were rambling now, moving your hands around to make a point towards Hamzah, trying to get your point across.

He said your name again, putting a hand on your knee for you to shut up, respectfully of course.

"Hey, I don't care that it was too much. I know you've been wanting these albums so that's why I bought it for you. I wanted to take you out so you can enjoy yourself, I already had it planned to buy you whatever you wanted from the beginning." He said, holding eye contact with you, not a single lie behind his words.

Your mind was running faster than it had ever run before, words were practically flowing out of your mouth and you couldn't stop it.

"But like why? Like- we're best friends and I don't think it's that casual for best friends to drop that much money on each other, right?" You were grasping at straws now, looking for a reasonable reason for why he spent that much money on you. It wasn't just about the money if you were being honest.

It was the feelings behind it. He brought you all this way to buy you something he knew you'd been wanting for god knows how long and it scared you. It scared you because you were noticing how hard it was to hide these feelings that you had for him. It wasn't just some simple crush—it was more than you "liking" some guy because if you were being totally honest with yourself, you loved him.

And that is insane to admit because you have spent years pushing these very feelings down and down till you couldn't anymore— and now it felt like you couldn't push it much further down before you explode and have to confess to save yourself from some pain.

It felt as if you were the moon chasing the sun, so close but so far. Only able to admire from afar, but never reach. He was always your sun. Always managing you bring your spirit up on a hard day, always being able to make you laugh on those gloomy days, and always sticking to your hip when things get rough. That's why you had such deep-rooted feelings for him. He was everything you could have wanted.

"You still don't know?" Hamzah asked, his face full of emotion yet you couldn't place your finger on what he was feeling.

"Still don't know what?" You asked, biting at your lip. Anxious that you missed some type of memo.

Hamzah's brain was filled with millions of thoughts coming at the speed of light, he didn't know if he should say it. Didnt know if it was the right time or if you would even feel the same. But, he can't keep this a secret for much longer. Your face, your smile, your everything was engraved into his brain and you were the only thing he would ever want to see. He knew he needed to be truthful right now, when would he have another chance to tell you how he truly feels about you?

"I-" He clears his throat before continuing.

"I don't see you just as a friend," he takes a breath before saying your name in that same sultry voice of his you loved, "You've always been on my mind and not in a friend type of way. I don't know any other way to say this other than being straight forward but— I honestly think I'm in love with you. Actually, scratch that, I know that I'm in love with you," you released a breath you didn't even know you were holding. A breath full of anticipation and nerves.

"I have been for such a long time that I thought you knew and you were just avoiding the topic- you're everything I want and I'm sorry if this is a bad time to mention it- and I feel like I'm rambling right now but Im like super anxious right now if I'm being totally honest... and if you don't feel the same I totally understand but I just need a straight answer if you do or don't because I feel like I'm going crazy every day-"

And before he can finish his sentence, you leaned over the center console and kissed him. You were nervous to act so bold, you were nervous that he was going to reject you somehow even though he just professed his love for you. But your overgrowing self-conscious thoughts stopped as soon as he kissed back.

Both of you put the same passion and emotion behind the kiss as the other, a very obvious emotionally charged kiss. Both of you spent years wanting this, dreaming of this happening but now you didn't have to dream or imagine it happening because it was now your reality.

Noise left both of your lips as the kiss grew to be something more heated. You slowly moved back, taking in air that now has turned hot. Looking at him with flushed cheeks and plumper lips. He stared at you with the same look he always gave you, one of pure affection and love.

You giggle, him giggling with you as well. That slowly turned into a full-blown laughing fit.

"Dude, we're actually so dumb, how did it take us this long to realize we felt the same about each other." You laugh, taking deep breaths in after feeling like you had the air knocked out of you from laughing so hard.

"I don't know, I thought I dropped enough hints for you to realize." He smiled at you, his lips slightly swollen.

Your smile on your lips grows bigger when you realize Hamzah has some of your lipstick on his lips, "you have my lipstick on your lips."

"Now I'm a pretty little princess so I don't mind."

Smiling, you give him a small peck on his lips before he finally starts his car and drives off to your shared apartment.

"How about we skip the fast food and we share those left overs? I just want to lay down after all this" You say, still shocked over everything that happened.

Hamzah nods, agreeing with your plan because all he wants to do now is lay down with you on the couch with both of your cats.

"Oh, and the next date we go on I'll pay." You stated, leaving no room for questions.

a/n: sorry if this is a bit cringy LOL, also new chapter will be out by late today so like around 11pm cst I think.. :p

[allsteddie]

Under the Spotlight [Part I]

Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson hate each other. At least that's what the press is saying. Also known as the Actor!Steve AU.

[Part II]

It starts like this: Steve is in Los Angeles. He’s just began shooting his new period drama show and the first round of promotion is starting as well.

Personally, Steve doesn’t like this part of his job very much. It’s tiring, and also kinda boring, talking to the press. They’re always asking the same questions, always trying to make Steve give out more information about his personal life or trying to get on his good graces by flattering him in the most obvious ways. If he could, Steve would stick to just acting, but he’s still not famous enough to skip talking to the press and going to events if he wants his shows and movies to catch the public’s attention. So, he sucks it up and tells Robin she can let the reporter in so Steve can start his sixth(?) interview of the day.

The woman is nice enough, he guesses. She asks about the show, what Steve can share with his fans, what his fans can expect of this new role. Then, of course, just like every single reporter that came before her, she asks how Steve felt about working with Nancy Wheeler for the first time since they broke up. It’s so predictable that Steve would roll his eyes if he could. Sadly, he can’t. It wouldn’t be polite of him; it wouldn’t look good. So Steve plasters one of his trademark smiles and says the same thing he did to the other reporters.

“Nancy is a great actress and one of the best friends I have. Working with her is always a joy.”

And it’s not even a lie. Nancy is great and she is one of his best friends. Their relationship ended, yes, but it was a mutual understanding, and they parted in good terms, with no bad blood between them. They broke up almost two years ago, there’s no reason for things between them to be weird anymore.

That’s not what the press wants to know, though. They just want Steve to let something slip so they can explore it, distort it and publish it as truth. Steve’s been in this industry for enough time to know how it works.

The reporter seems unimpressed by his mild answer. She insists, mentioning Jonathan Byers, Nancy’s new boyfriend (fianceé, actually, but that information is not public knowledge yet) just to see if she can get a reaction out of him. Poor woman, she’s gonna have to do better than that.

When she realizes Steve’s not going to give her anything, the woman deflates. She moves on to other topics, prods Steve a little about his personal life, but her heart is not there anymore, Steve can see it.

“Alright, Steve, we’re almost done here, I promise,” the reporter (Anna? Anne?) says. “We asked your fans to send us questions on our Twitter page and selected a few.”

“Okay.”

The woman takes a minute to go over her notes.

“Okay,” she says, straightening her posture on the armchair she’s sitting. Steve does the same, more out of respect than anything. “@lysa_07 asks: did you always want to become an actor, or did you think about following a different career?”

“When I was in school, I played basketball and wanted to go pro. I was pretty good, actually, some universities offered me a scholarship and everything, but I got injured when I was in my senior year. Had to go through knee surgery and eight months of PT just to be able to walk by myself again.”

“So acting was your second choice?”

“At first, yes. But looking back I think I’m better off where I am right now. I loved playing basketball when I was a kid, but by the time I got injured it was more about winning than anything else. The fun I used to feel when I was playing was not there anymore because I was always worried about failing and letting my team and coach down. So, I guess even if I didn’t get injured, I would eventually have given up on basketball anyway. Living under that kind of stress is not for me.”

Nodding, Anne(?) types something on her tablet. “Yeah, I get that. I was on the soccer team in high school, the pressure really is crazy,” she agrees. “Okay, second question. @harringtons_fan_5_ever: What do you like to do in your free time?”

Steve chuckles. “Call me lame, but all I want to do when I have free time is go home, see my dogs and sleep as much as I can. There’s nothing better than that.”

“They don’t travel with you? Must be hard being away from them for so long.”

“They’re old dogs, travelling is too stressful for them now. And, yes, I miss them like crazy, they’ve been with me for over ten years.”

“Oh, I see. I hope you get to see them soon, then.”

Another pause as the reporter types something else on her tablet. Steve takes the water bottle on the small table beside him and takes a sip, his throat a little parched after talking for so long. He hopes the woman is being honest and they are almost done, because Steve can’t wait to get the hell out of here.

“Last question is from @justaccoffingirlie,” she says. “It’s two questions, actually. First, she asks: In terms of music, what are your favorite genres? And follows with: what do you think about Corroded Coffin’s last album?”

“I guess pop and classic rock are my main choices when I’m making a playlist,” Steve answers, thoughtful. “Sorry, but what was that second question?”

“What do you think about Corroded Coffin’s last album?”

“Is that a band?” he asks, a small frown forming on his face as he tries to make sense of whatever the woman expects him to answer. “I’ve never heard of them before.”

“Yes, it’s a metal band. They’re very popular, their new tour has been sold out for months. They released their third album a couple of months ago.”

“Seriously? People listen to a band named Corroded Coffin? Wow, I had no idea.”

For the first time since the interview started, the reporter smiles brightly, nodding once again, this time with more enthusiasm.

“Yeah, they’re pretty big, you know!?” she says. “Their fans are very passionate.”

“Oh, good for them, I guess.”

“It sure is. Thank you very much for your time, Steve. We should publish this interview in two weeks. We’ll send all the details to your team when the article comes out.”

“Sure. It was great talking to you.”

In retrospect, Steve should have suspected something was not right. Anna had looked too satisfied by the end of their little chat. But he suspected nothing. After almost two hours, Steve just wanted to go back to his hotel room. He had a plane to catch that night and an eight-hour flight to Europe awaiting him.

-

-

Two weeks later, that interview he’s given is the last thing on Steve’s mind.

The make up team is working their magic on him whilst Steve reads for the last time his lines for the scene they’re about to start shooting that morning. Nancy is in the chair beside him, chatting with the hairdresser as the woman works on her as well. It’s all a little chaotic, but familiar enough for it to be relaxing in a way.

That is, until the door to the make-up room is slammed open and a pissed off Robin shows up on the threshold.

“Robin? What happen—” Steve begins to say but stops when Robin starts beating him with what seems to be a rolled-up magazine.

“You are a dumbass!!” she says, hitting him with no mercy. “Why do you do this? Do you fucking hate me, Harrington?!”

“What the hell, Robin!? Stop!”

The make-up artists scramble away from the woman, letting Steve all by himself to deal with her. Traitors!

“You. Are. An. Idiot!” she says, furious.

Steve grabs her wrist when she tries to hit him again and takes the fucking magazine out of her hands. That doesn’t stop her; Robin just starts slapping him with her bare hands.

“Hey, Robin, come on, stop hitting him,” Nancy, beautiful, sweet Nancy says, coming to Steve’s rescue. She grabs Robin’s arm and pulls the other woman away from Steve, forcing her to sit down on the chair she had previously been using. “Breathe, Buckley, you’re not making any sense.”

“You want me to make sense? I’ll make sense. I’m gonna kill this fucking idiot!!”

Steve gets up from the chair before Robin can reach him again. “You’re crazy!”

“Of course I am! You’re always trying to make my life difficult by opening your big, fat mouth. Why can’t you shut up, Harrington? Why?”

“What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did!”

“What did he do, Robin?” Nancy asks, just as confused as everyone else in the room.

Robin takes a deep breath, massaging her temples.

“Look at the fucking magazine, Steve,” she hisses.

Still lost, Steve unrolls the magazine and looks at its cover. It’s him. It’s a picture from a photoshoot he did a month ago, his name printed in big yellow letters announcing his interview on page 17.

“They published my interview, so what? Why are you pissed at me?” he asks, staring at the flattering picture with narrowing eyes. There’s no mention of Nancy on the cover, which is good in his humble opinion.

“I’m pissed at you because you are a dumbass who doesn’t know how or when to shut up. Why did you have to mock Corroded Coffin? Have you lost your mind?”

“I did what?”

“Oh, Steve,” Nancy says, mournful. “Tell me you didn’t do that.”

“I have no idea what she’s talking about, Nance, I didn’t mock anyone.”

Nancy grabs the magazine from his hands and opens it, flipping pages until she finds Steve’s interview. Her eyes roam over the page for a moment, then she lets out a small sigh.

“’When asked about Corroded Coffin’s new album, Steve Harrington claimed he has never heard of the band before and found funny the idea of a band with such a silly name being so famous,’” Nancy reads aloud, whilst Robin glares daggers at him. “’Seriously? People listen to a band named Corroded Coffin? Wow, I had no idea.’”

“I never said their name was silly!” Steve defends himself.

“But you implied it, that’s more than enough for these people, you know that,” Robin says. “What were you thinking, Steve?”

“Oh, come on. You’re overreacting, Robin. No one’s gonna care if I find a band name funny or not. Relax, woman.”

“Sorry, Steve, but Robin is right,” Nancy says, closing the magazine and giving it back to Robin. “Corroded Coffin’s fans are crazy loyal. They’re gonna go nuts when they read this.”

“Not you too, Nance.”

“But it’s true, Steve. Seriously. Corroded Coffin has one of the biggest fanbases I’ve ever seen. Their concerts are always packed. I went to one of their concerts with Jonathan last month and the crowd was insane; they screamed so loud my ears were ringing for hours after the show.”

“If they’re so famous, why haven’t I heard of them before?”

“Because you’ve been listening to the same ten artists since High School, that’s why,” Robin says, flicking him on the forehead. “Pray to God that their fans don’t take this shit to heart, Harrington. Because if they do, they’re gonna make your life, and by extension my life, a living hell.”

“At least he didn’t say anything about Munson,” Nancy laughs. “Now that would be a bad call.”

“Who?”

“Oh my God, you’re hopeless,” Robin groans, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration.

She throws the magazine at Steve, then storms out of the room, slamming the door shut and without looking back.

Steve frowns at the magazine in his hands, his own face looking back at him from the cover as if mocking him somehow.

Robin was just overreacting, right?

[hxxsxxng]

Do You Believe in Fate? s.jy

「pairing」 : childhoodbestfriend!jake x afab!reader

「synopsis」 : read the preview here

「word count」 : 15.3k

「genre」 : A lot of angst, smut, somewhat fluff, college au

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!! cursing, lot of nicknames, mentions of alcohol, consumption of alcohol, hangover, poor mental state, kissing, cuddling, alcoholism, toxic friends (not jake), teasing, crying, begging, distress, groping (consentual), unprotected sex, pulling out, loss of virginity, lowkey size kink, oral (m and f recieving), titty sucking, sharing a bath tub, mentions of hospitalizations, implications of potential death, depression. this is a repost

「authors note」 : i want to thank everyone for motivating me to finish this story and writing this was truly an experience that will effect me as a writer moving forward. i am tagging all of my mutuals so hopefully i could get some feed back! i love every last one of you

「taglist」 : @jakeflvrz - @simhinata - @eternality - @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby - @jakesangel - @yjwsgf - @diorsyun-deactivated20241118 - @en-ner-jay - @yeonzzzn - @hoonieesm - @hoonheepretty - @jaysupremacy - @cherry-park - @heeslomll - @alvojake - @taeghi - @dollyyuen - @sumzysworld - @wonsbaer - @simpjay - @sjylouvre - @starboimoon - @blurryriki - @yzzyhee - @sincerelyrki - @hoonven - @heeseungsbm

It was the summer before me and Jake’s junior year of university. We have been working all summer and it’s another other day at the office. Putting in check information for the bank was a lot more boring than I expected . Wake up, go to work, come home, sleep, repeat. There was no time to do anything else. We were always told that if we went to college, we would have a good job. That proved to be wrong. 

Both Jake and I are going through college together, though he landed a way better paying job than I did. When it comes to bills, he ends up having to pay more than me, but he swears up and down that it is not a big deal.

I set down my mug. I hear my phone ring. It’s Jake. “Hello?” he should be at work. “Hey Pumpkin, I got out early today, were there any groceries that we needed?”

“Oh, no I can’t think of anything.”  “Okay, Stay safe, I will see you later.”

Jake never really got time off of work but when he did, I usually tried to stay out of his hair and let him relax. I just continued to run reports, pretty much twiddling my thumbs until the clock struck 5 and I would make my way out of this hell hole.

Traffic was terrible as usual. A usually 7 minute drive turned into an hour. Days like this I just want to get home and throw all my stuff on the ground and lock myself away in my room. Maybe watch some TV. Or listen to some music while my computer is hooked up to it. Anything that distracts from knowing I have to go back to the job I hate the next day. My thoughts are interrupted by a honk coming from behind me. The light turns green. Thank God. But as soon as I pull away from the curb, a car pulls out in front of me. Damn those stupid drivers. I don’t even know how many times this month I’ve had to pull over so they could let someone pass. It isn’t worth getting into a fight with them about. I try to ignore them.

I made it back to our house just in time for the sun to still be out. I made way into the house and Jake was in the kitchen. It was an unusual sight. His after work routine typically consists of cracking open a cold one and playing his computer. “Hey princess” he greeted me.

I stand at the front door, taking off my shoes and hanging my keys on the rack. “What has you in a good mood all of a sudden” I ask suspiciously.

“Well since I got off work early, I figured i’d come home and suprise you with dinner since you just been eating so much take out recently” he replied nonchalantly. The thought makes me sick. “You didn’t need to do that Jake.” “Oh yes, I did. You haven’t been cooking for yourself for a couple months now. I wanted to show you how much your best friend cares about you” he says.

Reguardless of what I say, the food is made and there is no taking it back. I guess I can’t really argue with him over it.

“And besides, I know you have missed your mom cooking pasta for us when we would go to her house in Australia, I figured I should make some do you instead” he adds.

I slowly approach the table. He is still finishing up plating everything. He looks up at me and smiles. “It smells good” I say flatly. He takes off the oven mitts and wipes his hands on it. He sets my plate down in front of me and he pulls out the chair to my right and takes a seat.

“So how was your day Jake?” I asked awkwardly. He starts digging in and responds, “Not too bad. What about yours?”

“Same shit different day. Boss is always yelling at me and the company keeps treating me like garbage even though I am the only one who actually gives a fuck.” I complained, eating a piece of garlic toast. It tasted good, surprisingly good, considering the amount of spices he used.

“Well I am glad it’s Friday so you can take some time to unwind over the weekend” he attempts to comfort me but at this point i’m too tired.

“I guess.” I poke at my food a little bit. Why does Jake’s job seem so perfect? he easily makes twice as what I make and I rarely hear him complain about working either.

“You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to, I am not going to force you.” I guess Jake noticed me being hesitant about eating the rest of my meal.

“It’s not that I don’t want to eat it’s just that I’m really stressed and I don’t want to keep you here listening to me complain about the same things over and over again”

“Look at me” he said. I slowly lift my head for my eyes to meet with his. “I promise I will never get tired of listening to you” he reassured.

There he goes again, sending those butterflies flapping in my stomach. I don’t understand why he is so gentle and compassionate. It gives me goosebumps. I decide I might as well stop procrastinating and start enjoying the evening. “Thank you” I say, giving him a small smile. His face immediately lit up. It’s kind of cute. The rest of dinner went rather smoothly. Jake kept the conversation going, mostly talking about my day and what his was about, and then we would drift off into silence. He looked so relaxed and calm that I felt completely at ease. Even if I knew I should feel bad for keeping him up with my whining, I couldn’t bring myself to.

I stand up from the table and wash my plate. “I don’t know if anyone told you today, but you look gorgeous as always” he sneaks up behind me. “You don’t look too bad your self Jakey” I returned. My face was already a dark hue of red.

I decided maybe tonight I won’t rot away in my room. It’s a Friday night, I’ll have a little bit of fun. Still inside the house though. It is probably too cold outside anyway. I realize I am still in my work clothes. I return to my room to take them off and throw on my most comfortable pair of shorts and a talk top and take my Nintendo Switch to the living room.

Jake was already waiting there for me. He had a bottle of wine and 2 empty glasses. He looked up when I entered and smiled. I gave a shy smile and sat down next to him. He pulled me closer to him, pressing himself against me. Our legs intertwined under the couch. For a moment I forgot about the work situation and the world. In that moment it just felt nice to sit close to someone who cared for me unconditionally.

“What were you wanting to play?” he breaks the silence. “I was thinking we could play some Mario Kart” I suggested.

“Yeah we can, but you already know I’m gonna kick your ass”. He loves teasing me. I punched his shoulder and chuckled.

~~~~~~~~~~

He is in my bed. I just woke up and he is in my bed. I don’t know how to react. Maybe I drank a little too much? I really don’t remember anything after playing a few rounds of Mario Kart. He looks so peaceful. His dark brown hair all tangled up on the pillow. The way his biceps look in his black tank top. He doesn’t snore, but the way he breathes when he sleeps is very cute. There is a slight hint of stubble on his chin, almost like he hasn’t shaved in awhile. His lips are slightly parted. His face shows such contentment and relaxation. He looks so damn beautiful. I have to admit he is pretty attractive and I think he knows it. And I can’t help but wonder about what would happen if I leaned forward and kissed him. His soft lips pressed up against mine. I think it would be okay. Probably wouldn’t hurt. Scratch that, it would probably hurt a lot.

I woke up surprisingly early for a Saturday morning. Usually I am in bed until noon, but it’s only 9:30. Opposite of me, Jake likes to start his weekends bright and early, so it is a bit strange that he isn’t awake by now. I won’t bother him. It’s probably better this way. I roll over onto my side facing away from him. I close my eyes trying to fall back asleep. But it seems to be impossible. My mind is too preoccupied and Jake’s body is far too close to mine for my liking. I groan quietly. It doesn’t help at all.

I crawl out of bed, doing my best not to wake Jake up. As soon as I step out of the room, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. It’s my mom. I guess I hadn’t returned and of her texts last night. She asks if I have slept okay and if I’ve eaten breakfast. When she sees I haven’t. She sends me a picture of the last time I was at her house eating spaghetti. “Just eat something sweetheart and take care of yourself” she reminds me gently. I sigh deeply before replying. “Mhmm thanks mom” I set my phone down on the kitchen counter and rummage through the fridge, hoping to find something appetizing for breakfast. As I search, I can't stop thinking about waking up next to Jake this morning. We've been best friends for so long, but recently I've started seeing him in a new light. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, how considerate he is, it stirs up the feelings I've been trying to suppress. I shake my head slightly and settle on making some eggs and toast.

As I cook, memories of last night come flooding back. The wine, the laughter, the gentle way he pulled me close on the couch as we played games. My heart flutters just thinking about how natural and right it felt being cuddled up next to him. But I can't read too much into it. Jake is my oldest friend, he probably sees the intimacy as purely platonic. The sizzle of the eggs brings me back to reality. I quickly plate the food and grab a mug of coffee before heading to the living room. I'll just relax and enjoy this lazy Saturday morning.

I'm about halfway through my breakfast when I hear Jake's footsteps shuffling down the hallway. He emerges, hair sticking up adorably, letting out a big yawn. "Mornin' sunshine," he says with a sleepy grin. I feel my cheeks warm at the nickname. "Morning. I made some extra if you want it," I reply, nodding toward the kitchen. "You're the best." Jake passes over to dish up a plate, giving me a perfect view of his lean back muscles stretching against his thin t-shirt. I quickly avert my eyes as he returns to the couch. As he sits next to me, our arms brush and I feel that spark of electricity again.

Jake doesn't seem to notice, just digs into his eggs happily. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he speaks up again.

"That was a fun night last night, wasn't it?" His eyes meet mine with a warm smile. "We'll have to do it again soon." I return the smile, hoping he can't see the longing behind it. "Yeah, it was really nice." Nice to just relax and be ourselves without any expectations or pressures. Nice to feel...that close to him.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

~~~~~~~~~~

Jake has a friend named Jay. When Jake isn’t at work or at the house, he is most likely hanging out with Jay. Jay is a go with the flow kind of guy and was kind of a womanizer. There’s nothing wrong with it, but I try not to hang out with Jake when Jay is there for that reason.

Jake and Jay always go out for drinks on Saturday nights. I can’t remember the last time he was home on a Saturday night and I didn’t have to take care of him the next morning. He routinely stays at Jay’s house that night then gets an Uber back here the next morning.

Jake and Jay's Saturday night routine carried on like clockwork most weekends. Around 9 PM, Jay would pick Jake up and they'd head to their usual bar downtown. The two friends would drink heavily, telling outrageous stories and shamelessly checking out any attractive women who passed by.

For Jake, it was just a guys' night out away from work stress. But for Jay, it was a chance to flirt and see if he could add another notch to his bedpost. Jake didn't partake in that behavior himself, but he also didn't reproach Jay for it. He figured it was just Jay's way.

Come last call, the two would be pretty sloshed. Instead of dealing with an Uber that late, Jake would just crash at Jay's place. He'd wake up hungover the next morning and request a ride from a car service back home.

When he arrived home disheveled, I'd already have water and painkillers ready for him. I hated having to nurse him after these nights, but it was better than having Jay's leering presence around me. His constant objectification of women made me deeply uncomfortable. So I put up with Jake's hangovers to avoid that part of their friendship dynamic.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Jake opens the front door. I can hear him complaining about his headache already. He sets his keys down and immediately lays down in the couch.

"Hey babygirl, where is the aspirin? Do we have any aspirin left?" he asks groggily. A small chuckle escapes my lips before I turn around to look at him, smiling slightly. “I already got it out for you, and here is a glass of water”. His eyes are closed as I place the pills in his hand and he smiles once they make contact. “Thank you so much for taking care of me princess.” he praises as he shot the tablets into his mouth.

I giggle. This man is ridiculous. A loud yawn escapes his lips and I smile. As much as I hate seeing him like this, I am content with letting him have his fun every once in a while. His shirt is buttoned incorrectly, showing off his muscular chest. I look back at his face. His eyes were opened and he noticed me staring.

“What’s wrong Princess?” he slurs. “Do I look stupid or something?” “No Jake, you look great” I reply truthfully. “You just looked a little tired is all.”

Jake rolls over on the couch and turns onto his side. “I know you’re going to tell me I should rest more, but it’s so hard to sleep when you’re not in the same room.”

“Really? You usually fall asleep within seconds. Why is that?” He shrugs. “Don’t know babe. Just don’t like being alone.” I frown. That’s true enough. Jake never really liked being by himself. Ever since we were in diapers, he had always been surrounded by people. His parents, coworkers…me.

I decide to ask something rather personal instead. Maybe that will distract us for a while. “How’s your mom doing lately? Do you miss her?” Jake doesn’t respond right away. He starts fidgeting under my gaze. His hands begin picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion.

“Yeah, yeah. I miss her. I wish she wouldn’t be working so much now. She used to work less back when we were high school, you know? I still get worried sometimes” he answers with a slight edge in his voice. “It’s okay Jake. You know she likes working for your dad. It helps pay for everything” I remind him softly. He nods slowly. After a few moments, he finally breaks the silence.

“Why do you ask?” I guess he was caught off guard by the question. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen them, Australia isn’t in walking distance, ya know.” I try to cheer him up.

He sighs and looks down at the couch. “I guess I just wish I was able to spend more time with her like I did when I was younger. It doesn’t matter though.” He shakes his head dismissively. “She’ll come visit whenever she can. I’m just glad we both decided to live somewhere else for college. I would definitely have missed our family trips.”

“Oh…” I bite my lip unsure what to say to comfort him. He’s always taken his mother very seriously. Even when he was young he often complained that she worked too hard and stressed herself out, which only made him madder. In all fairness, she did work extremely hard—even harder than he ever could. And now that she has found some semblance of stability, he worries that he won’t be able to provide for her the lifestyle he wanted for her.

I reach out and pat Jake's arm reassuringly. "I know how much you miss your mom. But she's doing what she needs to in order to help take care of the bills and your dad. You know she'd be here if she could."

Jake nods slowly. "Yeah, you're right. I just wish there was more I could do from here, instead of feeling so helpless being so far away. I know my dad would want me there as well" He runs a hand through his tousled hair. "At least I have you around. Don't know what I'd do. You kinda of bring a feeling of home to me. I hope that made sense.”

I feel my cheeks flush a little at his words. "Well, you know I'll always be here for you," I reply, trying to keep my tone light.

“Thank you sweet heart.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Our parents went to University together. That’s how they met. My mom met Jake’s mom in a sociology class, and they have been best friends ever since. Being college bestfriend basically guarantees that your kid will have someone to grow up with, and they took advantage of that. He has litterally been there for every life event my mom felt was important enough to let him in on.

Though we didn’t become friends by choice, we were latched onto eachother ever since we were introduced. I remember I would ball my eyes out when even Jake got sick because it meant I couldn’t hang out with him after school or have play dates on the weekends. As we grew up, the situations weren’t as innocent. I would confide in him when I was upset, and he would hold me in his arms after my nightmares. I even found comfort in him after my numerous hearts breaks in highschool. Though none of my relationships were ever that serious, I was still unmistakably heartbroken.

Jake was never really a ladies man in highschool, or in general. He studied more on acedemics, which I guess was a good idea considering where he is now. Although I’d never said anything about it, his dating career was pretty dead for several years. In my opinion, it seemed unfair to Jake to not go on dates after highschool. While I understood why he wasn’t interested, it seemed a waste not to try. After all, I’m sure he could get any chick he wanted if he tried, I mean look at him. He had grown from a cute kid playing video games to one who had a perfect body and gorgeous features to match. So yeah, I loved that he was a boy and my friend. But there was no way I could give myself completely to such a man, especially with our history.

Jake is a lot different when I’m around, a lot more caring and loving. I’m reminded of all those times when I would find Jake crying when we came back from vacation during our sophomore year, or how he would suddenly appear at my room door at 5am looking for reassurance or help. At the time, I thought it was because he needed someone to talk to about the things troubling his mind, but now that I think about it , it’s kind of obvious he’s lonely. His dad has been in and out of the hospital recently. I don’t really want to push Jake into going into detail about his condition because it might make him emotional, but I just know that it is another thing that is weighing on him.

When I first started seeing him more and more recently, I thought maybe he wanted us to become closer friends. I mean, he was always talking about how much he adores spending time with me, and how grateful he is to me for saving him and bringing him back to life. I think the situation with his parents are weighing down on him more than I realize.

~~~~~~~~~~

The rhythmic tapping of rain against the window pane fills the hushed stillness of my bedroom. I lie awake, Jake's sleeping form curled up beside me, his head pillowed on my chest. His eyebrows are furrowed even in slumber, mouth turned down in a soft frown - the worry lines etched across his features never seem to fully fade these days. Gently, I brush some stray locks of hair off his forehead, my thumb tracing over the crease between his brows. Jake's been carrying the entire weight of his family's struggle on those broad shoulders.

A quiet sigh escapes his lips and he burrows deeper into my side, one arm slinging possessively over my waist. We've been a tangle of limbs like this more nights than not recently. After the latest bout of bad news about his dad, Jake sought me out like a man wandering through the desert in desperate need of water. I remember the rawness in his voice as he begged to stay in his room, to be held and comforted, the same way I always have. Whatever Jake needs from me, he'll never be turned away.

Trailing my fingers through Jake's hair, I allow myself to drink in every detail of him in this rare moment of peace. The slight upturn of his perfectly sloped nose. The way his plump lips are parted just enough to allow shallow puffs of breath to ghost across my skin. He really is beautiful in the most masculine, rugged way. Not that I'd ever say that out loud - it would be mortifying if Jake caught me ogling him like some lovesick fool. Then again, I've been a lovesick fool for the better part of a decade when it comes to him.

Lost in the flow of my thoughts, I don't even register the soft snuffling noises at first. It's only when Jake's eyelashes start fluttering that I glance down to find him blinking up at me groggily. Without a word, he shifts until his head is cradled in the crook of my neck, placing a slow, scorching kiss to the exposed skin of the side of my neck.

The world seems to screech to a halt. That...was definitely intentional. Purposefully intimate. There's no way it was an accident or a brief moment of sleep-hazy confusion. Not with the way Jake's pupils are blown wide, his lips parting to reveal the tip of his tongue darting out to wet them instinctively.

Just as quickly as the spark ignited, Jake seems to deflate, burying his face into the juncture of my neck and shoulder with a muffled whimper. His hands are fisting in the fabric of my sleep shirt, clutching me with a white-knuckled grip like I'm his lifeline back to the surface. Like if he doesn't hold on, he might drown. "Hey hey hey…" I gently stroke the length of his spine calming him. "You're okay now, everything is alright, relax..." Jake's breathing gradually slows. Gradually, he begins to relax, his fingers slackening their death grip in my shirt.

A few moments pass in silence before he lifts his head and looks directly at me. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, probably from all the crying. They’re red and glassy, a stark contrast to his usually flawless complexion. "Sorry," he murmurs. I shrug slightly. "Don't apologize." After a few sniffles, I feel his breathing become more consistent and his face is dry. He starts to do that cute breathing that I talked about. After I realized that he has met some sort of peace and fell asleep, I fell asleep soon after.

~~~~~~~~~~

The morning light filters in through the cracks of my blinds, shining over Jake's sleeping body in a soft glow. My eyes trace the line of his jawbone, the gentle rise and fall of his bare chest as he breathes. He looks so tranquil like this.

Jake smells so fucking good. If I could lay on his chest and take it his scent all day, I really would. Not to mention his face is extremely handsome. He has the face that other guys wish they had. It’s very obvious he takes care of himself.

I can't stop replaying that moment from last night over and over in my mind. The heat of Jake's lips pressing against the skin of my neck. Part of me was desperate to surge forward then and seal my mouth over Jake's, to finally give in to the magnetic pull that's been drawing me to him.

But I didn't. I couldn't. Because I'm also terrified of what exploring these feelings could mean for our relationship.

Losing him isn't an option I can fathom. And he seemed to make the same choice in that moment by turning away, burying his face against my neck with a whimper that could have been either anguished or relieved.

We're cowards, the two of us. Content to dance around the fire instead of being set ablaze

Part of me wonders if Jake was hoping for something in return. Maybe a kiss? Maybe he did it to show it trust and comfort for me. He knows what he is doing. The moment his lips touched my neck, my whole body shivered. I wanted more but I contained myself.

My body still hums with the memory of his kiss, nerves tingling with equal parts of dread. I want to reach out and trail my fingertips over the golden skin of his forearm, to breathe him in and see if he tastes how I've imagined on my tongue.

How many more moments like last night can I survive before the truth comes out? I don't have the answers. All I know is that I'm still undeniably his - body, mind and heart.

It has been too many nights where I imagine his lips against mine. The way he chills my spine when whispers in my ear makes me crave hearing his voice. I wonder what he would be like in a relationship with me, he treats me like a princess already, I don’t know how much better it could get.

My mind drifts to memories of him holding me tight when I was upset, his muscular arms engulfing me in a warm embrace. The feeling of safety and contentment that would wash over me in those moments. If I could experience that every night by his side, it might just be pure bliss.

I fantasize about waking up intertwined with Jake, our legs tangled together as we trade kisses and touches unhurried by the outside world. Combing my fingers through his bed hair while he peppers light kisses along my jawline.

Maybe there could be slowmake-out sessions on the couch, all heated caresses and desperate roaming hands before things inevitably progress further. I would lavish every sculpted line of Jake's body with devoted attention. I imagine he would be an attentive, generous lover, just as giving in the bedroom as he is in every other aspect of his life.

I also can’t get over the mental hurdle that maybe it is kind of gross that I see my bestfriend this way. I could easily mistake all of the kind things he does and how he treats me as something more than what he intends it to be, and that would make me uneasy. I have never done anything sexual with him and anything that would imply sexual attraction, yet I am still here wondering what it is like to have sex with him.

~~~~~~~~~~

I really need to get my feelings sorted out soon because they are just going to keep building up until they eventually burst, and I really don’t want Jake to witness that.The week went the same again. and again. and again. Wake up, go to work, do nothing after. But recently, Jake got a promotion at his job, which was grounds for celebration.

The local diner is busy with the lunch crowd, the air thick with aromas of burgers sizzling on the griddle and fresh baked pie. Jake and I slip into our usual corner booth, the cracked vinyl cushions molding to our forms like old friends. This place has been our go to spot since we started university here. We've shared so many moments in this very booth over the years. Happy celebrations or acing a big exam.

Which is why the thick tension clouding the air between us right now feels so alien. Instead of our usual easy camaraderie, I can barely look at Jake without my pulse kicking up. The memory of his firm chest brushing mine, those plush lips just a table length away, has my skin flushing hot. I squeeze my thighs together secretly, desperate for any kind of friction to alleviate the slow burn of arousal low in my belly.

Just being this close to Jake is enough to have that want unfolding all over again. Filling my head with flashes of how it could feel to finally give in - his weight blanketing me, our bodies moving together in a sinuous rhythm as his mouth trails searing kisses along my neck. "Hey." Jake's low rumble jolts me out of the vivid fantasy.

"You're zoning out, sweetheart. Everything okay?" My cheeks flame darker, that suddenly seems too intimate. I duck my head, but not before catching the unmistakable smirk curling at the corners of Jake's lips. That insufferable, cocky smirk he knows drives me crazy. I want to kiss it off his stupidly perfect face. Or maybe bite at the sharp line of his jaw, put that arrogant look to better use while I'm straddling his lap and--

"Fine," I mumble, hooking a loose strand of hair behind my ear to avoid meeting Jake's eyes. The small movement causes our elbows to brush together on the tabletop. His skin is so soft. Jake's brow furrows, like he doesn't miss the way I've gone tense and flustered all over again. Before I can blink, his hand is covering mine. Those long fingers tenderly stroking along my knuckles, smoothing over my suddenly clammy skin.

Slowly, purposefully, Jake tugs my hand closer until my palm is cupping his scruffy jaw. I suck in a sharp, shaky breath at the contact, at being able to feel the rasp of his five o'clock shadow against my sensitive skin. Jake holds me there for a moment, those meltingly warm eyes boring into mine like he's trying to read my mind.

Then, in the most tempting act of torture imaginable, Jake presses his lips to my wrist in the barest brush of mouth against pulse point. I swear I could die right then and there. He slowly pulls away, looking up to meet my eyes once again. Our gaze meets, intense and lustful, filled with a hunger that only he knows how to create. This feels so wrong, so dangerous. The fact he's staring down at my lips, licking his subconsciously causes a slight hitch in my breathing. A tiny part of me wants to lean forward and press my lips to his. But I stop the impulse with the thought of what we did last night, and the consequences of getting caught again.

Instead, I let out a sigh and break eye contact before pulling my hand away and placing my elbow on the table. I rub my thumb across my wrist absentmindedly while avoiding Jake's gaze, the words I want to say stuck somewhere inside my throat like rocks. There isn't anything I can do. What I have with Jake is different now. I'm scared shitless to tell him how I truly feel.

"What's wrong? Are you alright?" Jake asks, worry laced into his tone. He places a hand on my thigh, making me jump slightly. “It’s nothing, really” I lied. The server comes over to the table to take our order. “What could I get started for you to drink” he says.

-

Our meal goes by normally, Jake pretending that he had done nothing earlier. Afterward, we head home, the silence thickening the further into town we get. There’s nothing for me to say, no reason to prolong this conversation I’m dreading anymore. He must sense my sudden change of mood. He drops his arm from around my shoulders and lets his hand fall limply back onto his knee.

We walk silently in the direction of our house. Neither of us speaking. It’s almost as if we’re both waiting for the other to make the first move. I have an overwhelming urge to turn to him and kiss him.

~~~~~~~~~~

I can’t stop thinking about Jake. He is the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I go to bed. Over the past few weeks, I feel like he has become a lot more touchy, which don’t really mind. He smiles for a little longer when we eat together. We have slept in each others room a lot more often than before. I may just be over analyzing it.

Jake is going out with Jay again. As usual, I don’t plan on him coming home tonight, and I will wake up to a hungover Jake. Jay isn’t really the friend to take care of you when you feel ill, so that responsibility is left on me.

I hate to admit, but when Jake isn’t home for a night, I fight the urge to sleep in his bed. I have been sleeping in his bed with him so often that it leaves me in withdrawal when we aren’t in the same bed.

Just being in his room, his scent diffused in the air, it makes me miss him so much more. Even without thinking about the fact that it is his room, the bed is so much more comfortable than mine, which is all the better reason to sleep there.

I walk in, already in my shorts and t-shirt, and wonder around. He has the picture of us that his mom took when we were first leaving for Korea framed on his nightstand.

I pick it up and examine it closely. It is the one photo where we didn’t appear stiff. I remember the day clearly; I was standing with him, grinning broadly. I never expected to smile so much when I was young, but my memories of our trip leave a bright happy feeling inside my stomach.

I set the photo back down and I lift the blanket from the corner of the bed. I slide into the bed, laying on his side like I usually do when he isn’t here. I instantly melt into the sheets. I scroll on my phone whilst fighting my eyelids to stay awake, but eventually I fall asleep prematurely.

Jake usually keeps his room pretty cool, which calls for cuddling closely under the blankets. In the middle of my sleep, I am shot awake when my cold limbs are instantly warmed by an unexpected sensation. Why was Jake home?

Jake continues to get comfortable under the blanket, not even batting an eye at the fact that I was just sleeping in his bed. I pull him closer by his waist to fulfill the rest of the warmth that my body craves.

“Why are you shivering sweetheart, you could have turned on the heater.” he worries.

“I wanted the temperature to be tolerable when you got back in the morning” such a stupid explanation. “Speaking of, why are you here right now? what happened to Jay’s?” I questioned, completely forgetting how we got into this situation in the first place.

“Jay was feeling ill so we called it a night pretty early, I only got three shots down.”

Jake runs a lazy finger over my hip bone and leans in to nuzzle the crook of my neck. Shit. He’ll notice the way I react to his touches and I won’t be able to explain myself. Fuck.

“I thought I would come to my room and catch up on sleep but look what we have here instead” he says with that stupid smirk on his face.

“Oh- oh I’m sorry.” I slowly pull away from him to make way back to my room. “No babe, please don’t go, I want you to stay” he begs while keeping our fingers latched to keep our extended arms together. He then latched his hand around my wrist to slowly pull me back down to his level on the bed. It’s all happening too fast. He uses the same hand to comb his fingers through the strands at the bottom of my hair on the back of my head, and keeps his hand there entangled. He uses his hand to guide my head into a sensual kiss. He gently pressed his lips against mine. So plump, so dreamy. I reciprocated the kiss instantly, matching his pace and moving our lips in sync so perfectly. The way our lips intertwined so naturally gave me actual chills.

After giving me what I have dreamt about for years, he pulls away, leaving a string of saliva to connect our lips. He looks into my eyes, his pupils as voids. “Please stay” he whispers again. I nod dumbly, my brain still short circuiting as Jake bites is bottom lip. He’s so fucking beautiful, my eyes are practically burning holes into his lips.

His fingers gently run over my cheekbone, lingering on my jawline, tracing along my nose. “How did I ever deserve someone as beautiful as you?” he murmurs. His voice is full of admiration and love and affection. He trails his fingers along my jaw, pausing to lightly graze my collar bone, making goosebumps erupt across my skin. The heat radiating off Jake’s body is practically burning me alive.

Without thinking about it for a second longer, I close the gap between our lips again. We moved in sync, in harmony. It feels like my lips were only made to kiss his. He rests his free hand on the side of my face and uses it as grip to deepen the kiss. Kissing him I had a sense of saftey. The longer our lips were together, the more open I was to his attempts at adding tongue into the mixture. It was a sloppy wet mess, but is all I have ever wanted.

I slide my hand between out warm bodies and feel across his obvious bulge in his boxers. He instantly let out a groan when I took his imprint into my palm. I stroked it gently as we continued with intertwined tongues. His grunts and breathlessness was insanely arousing.

It was clear that we were both extremely sleepy. After a few more minutes of kissing, we eventually pulled away, with no words spoken.

I try my best to hold in my moans as the warmness travels up my body like lava. He stops tracing my collarbone to trail his hands up the side of my body, stopping to stroke a line of soft kisses along the side of my neck.

My hands grasp tightly at the material covering Jake’s shoulder blades and I use that leverage to get back under the blankets with him. We both face eachother, with our legs crossing randomly over one another. He once again rests his head in the crook of my neck, leaving a kiss like he did once before. Only this time, I know his true intention.

~~~~~~~~~

The fall semester is starting back up again. Junior year, both is our schedules are jammed packed with upper division classes. Having to balance so many classes and still having to work to keep up with the bills for the house, Jake and I hardly see each other. Even though I love spending every single day with him, I feel like I’m living with a ghost whenever I see his empty seat. When I wake up every morning to find him gone, my heart starts to ache. It hurts knowing that we might not spend as much time together. I know that the sooner that this semester ends, the easier everything will be.

The end of the semester wasn’t going to be soon though, it’s barely September. I’ve decided to try and set a study date with Jake and make sure nothing was overlapping the times. We eventually agreed apon Thursday night after he got off of his afternoon job. Maybe around 8 o’clock. I was getting a head start on my Statistics work before he showed up because I knew it would take me a while. He eventually showed up close to 8:30.

I had my headphone covering my ears, shoulders slumped over my desk, and he comes up behind me and take my shoulders in his hands and sensually massages. “Ah thank youuuu~~~ my muscles are tight” I jumped at the unexpected pressure. He drives his thumbs a little bit deeper into my blades and slides his straight arms down my stomach for a hug. “I missed you” he griped with puppy dog eyes, resting his head on my shoulder. I take off my headphone and hold both of his forearms and pull him deeper into this awkwardly positioned hug.

After a few seconds he pulls away and grabs out his bag with his laptop, and runs to his room to grab his chair to pull up next to mine. I was still seated, watching, unable to take my eyes off him. He settles himself and puts the laptop on his knees in front of him. He opens his notebook, and turns the page to the worksheet for this month. My fingers naturally find their way to his back and scratch gently while he looks over his work. They made their way up his clothed back and into his hair and I ran them through this tangled hair. He let out a sigh of fufillment and he allows himself self to close his eyes to fully take in the relaxing feeling. He breaths in deeply and slowly, taking in my coconut scent.

“Fuck it” he says under his breath.

He turns in my directed and crashed his lips into mine with no hesitation. He wraps his arms around my neck, deepening the kiss. I was startled at the quick change in plans but my lips soon melted into his and I was under his control. My tongue dances along his bottom lip, asking for entrance as he obliges and gives access. He lifts me from my chair and pulls me over to straddle his thighs.

He guides his lips to mine again, running his hands down my back as he pushes me lower into his lap. I wrap my legs slightly around his waist for some sense of support. The sensual make out and lap straddling goes on and on, until he breaks away slightly to speak, “You can move if you want sweetheart”.

He reconnects our lips and I find myself needing any sort of friction to ease the pressure building between my legs. Subconsciously grinding my core over his thigh slowly. I bite down on his lower lip causing him to suck on my tongue immediately as a response. God, he tastes so good, like the cocoa butter lip balm I got him for his birthday.

I continue grinding over his thighs picking up the aggressiveness, as he continues to run his hands through my hair. “Feeling desperate, darling?” he teases, smirking as he tries to pull me back into a kiss. “Shut up” I harden my fist and hit the front of his shoulder. He always finds a way to tease me. He chuckles as we connect our lips once again.

He slides both of his hands under my thighs stands up from his chair, and I wrap my legs around his body as he carries me to the bed. He slowly lays me down on my back with my legs still wrapped around his waist. He doesn’t break the kiss but as soon as he sets me down, I can feel his erection bulging through his pants rubbing against me sweet spot. We stop kissing momentarily as he looks at me, with lust filled eyes. He lets one of his hands rest on my chest, while the other traces along the side of my neck to my chin, tilting my head upward and pressing his forehead against mine. “Look at how gorgeous you are right now,” he says with pure adoration. “I can’t help myself when I’m with you.” A sudden surge of desire hits me and my hands grip his hips tighter as he starts to trail kisses on my jawline. I can feel an undeniable wetness spreading in my panties. I am becoming desperate.

I placed my hands at the bottom of his shirt and began lifting it up, but he finished the job and lifted it over his head and threw it to the side. I have seen Jake shirtless a million times over but this time is different. It feels more intimate than the last ones I have seen. I felt my throat tighten as my eyes were drawn to his chest which looked absolutely flawless. “So beautiful” I whisper and I trace my fingers over his abs and chest. His body looks perfectly carved and sculpted by a god. “It’s all for you, baby” he cooed.

I reach my arms around his back and gently dig my nails into his skin as he continues to kiss me. He grabs the bottom of my shirt and pulls it over my head, revealing my breasts. I wasn’t wearing a bra since I had been home all afternoon, and I definitely wasn’t expecting this. As soon as he sees them, he takes one of them in his hand. He holds my right breast in his palm and gently rubs it between his thumb and index finger.

His gaze remains focused on my chest as his mouth begins to travel down, taking his time to enjoy each and every piece of my body. He stops to give me another kiss before placing his lips on my nipple. He sucks on my nipple whilst his teeth nipped at my flesh, causing me to moan lowly. I grabbed his hair pulling him closer to me. I grind my pelvis onto his dick, eliciting a groan and he removes his mouth, making a ‘pop’ sound, to look at his next target intensely. He took my other breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue around my nipple and softly sucking, making me arch my back and having a moan escape my lips. Jake trails his hands down my waist while keeping his mouth latched to me.

His fingers went into the top of my sweatpants and I stopped him. “I have never done this before” I admitted. “Do you want me to stop?” he questions. How could I ever want him to stop? He is the only person I have ever imagined losing my virginity to. That aside I simply answer “No, Jakey, I trust you”

He continues to pull me pants down and off my legs and throws it to the side like he did with the other articles of clothing. He licks up my neck and comes to my ear. “I have never done this either, we can learn together” he whispered. Hearing this made my noticibly more wet, the way he whispers into my ear raises every single hair on my body. The thought of us having our first times with each other made this whole so much more meaningful and made me a lot less hesitant.

The only thing I have left on are my black panties and Jake looks like he is a man with a mission. I grab his bulge through his jeans and gently massage. He becomes a groaning mess as I palm his desperate tip. He is barely even able to keep his lips a decent distance apart for me to kiss him. “Fuuuck your hand feels so good” I take my other hand to start unbuckling his jeans, which he seems to have no problem with.

I pulled the belt off and unbuttoned his jeans and pulls them down, to where he took them all the way off. All he has left is his boxers. I can clearly see the imprint of he large cock through the thin fabric. I furrowed my eyebrows. “Does it look too big?, we can stop now if we need to” he questioned, seeing the fear on my face. I gulped and said “No, I can take it.”

I continued stroking through his boxers and he moved my panties to the side and rubbed gently on my folds. I gasped at the feeling. The better it started to feel, the less and less I was able to focus on Jake and more on myself. He had me wrapped around his finger. No amount of masturbating could compare to the way he is making me feel within these few minutes.

He slid his fingers down my clit and inserted one. He pumped it in and out until I felt that I was ready for more. Then 2. It hurt a little more but I slowly got used to it. He leaned his head down while his fingers still stuffed me and started leaving kisses on my clit. For having so little experience, he worked his finger and tongue like a professional. The way his tongue danced across my sensitive bud made my body shutter, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“I love the sounds of your whimpers” he moaned against my clit teasing me. I couldn’t even respond. My breathing quickened, and the more his fingers fucked me, the more I could tell how wet I was getting. I whimpered again and I gripped his hair signaling how good he was making me feel. “It tastes just as sweet as I imagined” he praised. He has imagined this before? What else has he imagined?

His fingers slowed down and he slipped two inside of me simultaneously. My hips bucked up and I let out a small gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. He continued working his fingers inside of me. He was eating like a man who hadn’t seen a meal in a week.

“I want to taste you now.” I protest, pulling his face up for a kiss. His eyes look like he is drunk as his tongue swirled with mine and he gave me a slow deep kiss. He sucked on my bottom lip, then bit me, and finally opened his mouth and licked my tongue with his. He pulls away and allows me to pull his boxers past his hips and onto the ground. His dick sprung out. God, it was a lot thicker than I imagined.

I take the base of it and put my lips against the tip, swirling my tongue around. His muscular hand combs through the top of my hair and gently grips it as I begin to take more of his length in my mouth. I could feel it sliding smoothly in and out of my throat. His grip on my hair tightens and he guides me to take more in moderation. “God yes baby, that’s it” he encouraged. I looked up at him, the room filled with breathy moans and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. I felt the waves of his voice vibrating through my lips as he spoke, causing goosebumps to erupt across my entire body. I could feel my juices flowing through my pussy and down my belly.

I continue sucking him until he is almost completely buried inside my mouth. He leans down placing his lips beside my ear. “I don’t think I can hold out much longer” he whispers, making me smile.

He slowly pulls himself out of my mouth and lifts me back onto the bed. I use my arms to cover my chest, I am a little nervous. He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “Don’t hide yourself, you look perfect darling” he said proceeding to take my tongue in his mouth. God this man loves using his tongue. I have never felt this type of intimacy before, and to think I am covering that ground with my bestfriend, was not how I thought it was going to go to say the least.

He brushes his tip in between my folds, spreading my wetness around. “Are you sure you want to keep going? We can stop here, just say the words and I will stop” “Please keep going” I am practically begging. He seems to enjoy my obvious desperation. He guide the tip in slowly, trying not to overwhelm me. He goes in a little deeper. I wince in pain. “Ah baby go a little slower” I pleaded. I didn’t want him to stop but it was definitely starting to hurt. He held the same spot for a few more seconds, then slowly pushed more in. I have gotten used to the stinging, as it slowly turns to pleasure.

“Shit princess, you’re so fucking tight” Jake praises. He was getting lost in his own world since he has never felt a warm pussy wrapped aroung his dick before, especially not one like mine. I felt his tip hit the enterance of my cervix. He bottomed out. He didn’t move. He didn’t even want to move, he was just enjoying the moment of his cock being buried deep inside his bestfriend. “You ok babe?” he asked, concerned by the lack of movement from me. “Yeah, just give me a second” I replied, attempting to get myself under control.

I began to relax, letting the warmth envelop my entire body. I signal that his is able to move. He slowly pulls his cock out of my cunt, and immediately pushes it back in. He rests both of his arms next to my face and comes down to kiss me. I can see the faint beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “You do not know how long I have been wanting to do this” He whispered into my ear. Once again, Jakes words send a tingle down my spine. He instantly latched himself onto my neck, sucking harshly while still keeping a slow pace down below. I grip his brown head of hair as he leaves purple marks on my skin, bruising my neck. He pulls out and goes back in, this time at a consistent rate.

Our torsos are in complete contact and he sets both of his hands under my back. I wrap my legs around his waist to allow him deeper access, which he so desperately needed. His lips were locked with mine. Our tongues were dancing along with each other as well as our chests. Every time he would suck on my lower lip, I moan against his lips.

“This is what I have been dreaming about” He says breaking away and kissing my nose. He finds me comfortable with his picking up the pace, and he did with no hesitation. He nuzzles into my neck with his hair partially resting on my face. There was no pain left to feel and my whole body was washed over with pleasure. His length fit so perfectly into my warm cunt, like we were make to only fuck eachother.

Jake head still right next to mine, I turn my head and whisper “Jakey, it feels so gooood~~~~” with inconsistency in my breathing. Jake’s ears were pleasured as if he were listening to his favorite song. He slowed down the pace, only to drive his dick deeper into my swollen cunt with each thrust. “Oh my god it’s feels so fucking good, you taking my cock like this.” he whines in my ear. He pulls away from my neck and just watching himself fuck into my pussy.

There was so much sweat on his face it was so fucking hot. It was dripping off his chin and onto my shoulder and neck. His hair was starting to get wet. He took both of my legs over his shoulders, making sure to maintain eye contact. Each stroke was deeper and deeper. Faster and faster. He was getting desperate. I don’t know how much more my inexperienced pussy can handle. He takes his thumb and gently rubs my clit. Ugh, I have never felt this sort of sensation before, being fucked at the same time.

My moans became more uncontrollable and my legs started to close in. “Fuckkkkk Jakey I am about to cum” I am on the verge of tears, overstimulated with pleasure. The pressure on my clit mixed with the repeated abuse of my cervix was enough to drive me over the edge. “Mmmmm yes doll, cum on my cock” he says lowly. My walls tighten around him and my hips are shaking. My heart is beating at 1000bpm, not a coherent thought left in my fucked-dumb mind. He practically has to pry my legs apart to maintain access to my slit. He holds my hips in place as he gives me a few more strokes. His became less and less powerful.

Once he felt his orgasm coming, he quickly pulled out of me, letting out a loud groan, and shot his strings of white cum all over my tummy and chest. The room was filled with loud pants and the scent of sex. “You are all I have ever wanted” I reach up to tuck his hair behind his ear, not minding the fact that his face was soaked. We rest our foreheads together and rub our noses across each other as we both try to catch our breath.

After a second of recovery, He runs to the bathroom and grabs a rag to clean me up. I could barely move my body, my entire entity was more than sore. It hurt to move, all I could do is lay there. Jake returns with a cold washcloth, and starts wiping off my stomach. “Do you need help getting cleaned up babe?” he asks, sitting down beside me, his arm around my naked torso. “Could we take a bath together?” I suggested.

A bath together after the fact is far more intimate, and could give us some time to talk things over. “Of course” and smiles. “I can go get it set up right now, darling, you just rest for a few minutes” He gives me a kiss on the nose and forehead before heading to run the faucet.

~~~~~~~~~~

I don’t know how I could let this happen. I lay on my bed rerunning all of the events writhing the last hour in my head. I really don’t know why we both allowed it to go that far. I admit, I loved every second of it, but now that it’s over, we have to deal with the effects.

Jake comes back from running the faucet. He looks tired. Maybe a bath is something we both need. “Come here sweetheart” he brings a towel and sets it on the counter.

The bathroom mirror was completely fogged over. “Are you trying to make soup out of us?” I said jokingly. “I know you like taking your showers hot, so I thought maybe it would be the same for baths” he chuckled.

I dip my toes into the half full tub. Jake was right, the temperature was just how I liked it. I held onto his shoulder as I submerge my other foot. The water lapped over the rim of the bath tub.

I keep hold onto his hand so he can guide himself into the tub, taking a lot more balance and tolerance for him to try to get used to the boiling water. “God damn, you like it hot hot” he teases though I can see him furrowing his eyebrows at the heat.

“Oh don’t be such a baby” I tease him right back. He pouts playfully. I love seeing that kind of reaction from him. “I don’t mind” he mumbles in embarrassment, trying to hide the smile on his face.

Once his feet were able to get used to the water, we both slowly sat the rest of our bodies into the tub. Jakes hair is a mess, it’s going in all different directions. I reach out to tuck some of it behind his ears for him, and then cup his face in my palm. I stroke his cheek with my thumb. He tilts his head, there he goes with those irresistible puppy dog eyes again.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asks. I remain in eye contact with him. “Were you being serious? When you said you have dreamt about… that…?”

He’s silent. So much blood rushing to his face his cheeks are like strawberries. He scratched the back of his head. “I mean yeah… why wouldn’t I” he hesitated.

“I mean look at you, you are insanely attractive and we live together and have known each other forever. Of course my mind is going to wonder. It has wondered many more times than I would like to admit.” he explained himself.

Unintentionally, our bodies kept inching towards each other in that bath. I am some how a mere 6 inches away from his face. “Why haven’t you ever told me how you felt?”

“Because I was scared on how it would change our friendship”…. he had the exact same fear as I did. He was also afraid of losing one of his best friends. “If I tell you how I feel, you might think it’s weird or something” he whispers into my ear. “No I will understand, we have known each other our whole lives. How would it be weird?” I say softly.

He hesitates once again, and I can hear his heart start to pound. He closes the gap between us and rests his forehead on mine. “There is so much you don’t know” He breathes, still looking deep into my eyes. His words caused a flicker of anxiety inside of me. “There is so much I want to know about you, darling” I reassure.

“Well for starters I never thought this thing between us would become anything more than just friends” he confesses. It is hard for him to admit such things, but he has to show me that I matter more than he thinks. “It scares me, and I’m sorry that I let it go too far. I guess it’s because I’ve been waiting so long, and everything has changed so fast” he explained, he still had this worried look on his face like I were going to shut everything down. Everything had changed so fast.

“You have to stop worrying so much about me. You can trust me, okay? I’ll never judge or hate you or think any differently of you. All I want is for us to enjoy our first time together and enjoy each other. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you are to me”. I caress his face with my hands.

A small smile graces his features while he gazes back into my eyes. I lean forward and capture him in a long passionate kiss. Our lips moving in sync, tasting each others taste as if it was our first time doing it. We pull away and stare at each other. He places both of his palms on either side of my face, leaning in even closer. I place my lips in line with his.

My fingers run through his soaked hair, though I don’t know if it use from sweat or from water. “Jakey, if I am going to be honest, I have been feeling the same way. On nights where we don’t sleep in the same bed, I find myself getting less sleep and craving your warmth. I don’t regret anything that’s happened between us tonight. Admittedly, I have been wanting to do that with you for so long” I started ranting.

“When you were making love to me I felt like I was floating away and it felt so good I just wanted to stay here forever, like nothing else mattered. There wasn’t anything I wanted more than to stay in this moment forever with you, but we both know that isn’t possible.” he continues, his voice cracking.

“Making love?” I chuckle. Such an interesting word choice. “Be quiet” he pushes back. “I’m just joking, but I agree”

He was clearly getting tired, letting out a yawn and fighting the force of his eyelids trying to close. “We should get to bed” I suggest. We soak the last few moments of the now comfortably hot water and get out of the tub. “You better not get water all over the floor, Jake” HE ALWAYS DOES THAT.

He grabs a towel for me and and one for himself and he wraps mine around my whole body width and pulls me for a hug. “I am glad we took a bath together sweetheart, try to get some rest” he whispers, and leaves an innocent kiss on my forehead.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks consisted of school, work, and sleeping in the same bed with Jake pretty much every single night. We would exchange passionate kisses and I would bathe him when he was too tired from work or hanging out with Jay. And he would do the same for me. We never went as far to have sex again. We weren’t scared but we felt like we should wait.

We are on our way back to Australia for fall break. Jake will finally get to see his parents and I will get to see mine. We get to have a whole week without having to worry about responsibilities. Which I know both of us desperately need. We touch down in Australia around maybe 3pm on the first Saturday of the break. We only brought carry on luggage for convenience and time.

“Have everything?” He questioned me as we were getting out of our seats. “I think so” I smile, so excited to see my parents. We arranged for Jake’s mom to pick us up from the airport. She had a large SUV able to fit all of our stuff comfortably. Once we passed through all of the security and customs, Jake calls her to see where she is parked. On speaker I hear her say “9 rows down from the south enterance” she explains. “Thanks mom, see you in a sec” Jake says about to hang up the phone. “Thank you Mrs Sim” I make sure she hears before he presses the red button.

We hurry to get out of the packed airport so meet up with his mom. The weather was cold and misty and it was hard to see. When we finally arrived outside the south enterance, we could hardly believe what we saw. Layla comes up running at full sprint in me and Jake’s direction. She jumped up onto bother of us, layering our faces and arms with slobbery licks and he tail wagging so hard it may as well had fallen off.

Once Layla was all calmed down we put our luggage into the trunk. We swing up the door and the vehicle seems oddly empty. “Where is dad?” Jake questioned his mom. “He is getting worse…. he wasn’t able to make it today, I had to take him back to the hospital last night” she explained. I could already see the heart break in his eyes. “Oh” We packed everything up and his mom offered for me to sit in the front seat. Honestly, I wanted to sit in the back seat and comfort Jake, so I made up the excuse that Layla should sit in the front.

The mood in the car ride home was off. I don’t know if it was from the weather or his fathers health but Jake was not as energetic as he was before. I know he doesn’t deserve everything happening to his dad so I will just try to support him through it.

~~~~~~~~~~

I never really gave it much thought, but the more I put the pieces together, I think maybe the reason Jake is so insistent on getting black out drunk with Jay on the weekends may have to do with his father.

Jake has never in his life had a healthy coping mechanism. I remember a lot through out grade school, he would feel guilty or take blame for things that were not his fault, just to mediate the situation. When he did this, he did not react to the discipline very well, but it seems like he would much rather face conveniences than to start an argument over the original problem.

Jake let a lot of people take advantage of him, and it is still something that we have to work on, but knowing the situation with his dad, I know he has a lot more things to worry about now that usual.

Many of the people excluding his parents are alcoholics, any family event we went to together, the main thing being passed around was a bottle. When we were younger, things made him build resentment towards them but the older we got, the more willing he was to try alcohol, only adding more and more each time until he is where he is at now.

Jay isn’t the type of friend to stop this behavior either. I will never understand why Jake is such good friends with him cause he never seems to have the best intentions or good interest in mind. I can’t be the one to tell him that they should stop being friends cause at the end of the day, Jake’s relationship with alcohol won’t be healed in a split second.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing really eventful happened over the span of the after noon, the rain put everything to a halt. I slept in the guest bed in Jake’s house for the first night but was unable to fall asleep for the majority of the night. Jake’s mom rushed into the room around 1:30 am.

“Hey are you awake? We have to go the hospital, it’s my husband. Please wake up Jake while I grab the keys” She said with an extremely shaken voice full of urgency. I shoot out of the bed and put my shorts back on and practically run down the hallway to Jake’s room. It is locked. I bang on the door frantically. “Jake! Jake get up now we have to go” I echo through the door. Quickly after he swings open his door with his shirt in his hand, in the middle of putting it on.

The SUV was already started when we got out the front door and we ran to get into the car and soon as we sat down she reversed and tried to explain. “He slipped into a coma. They said they are trying everything to get him to wake up but they have no idea why it happened because he was in decent shape before” she says with tears forming in her eyes.

I reach up to the front seat to scratch her shoulder to try and calm her. I don’t think there is anything someone can do in this situation to calm someone in this much distress down but I tried. She is going dangerously fast down the highway. I know that she has been working hard to keep them afloat and thing we’re starting to get better. After that I couldn’t stand to listen anymore and closed my eyes hoping that by some miracle she wouldn’t end up killing us.

After what seemed like hours we reached the hospital and were quickly taken to another private room where we could talk with him alone. Of course his dad wasn’t going to be able to say anything. But Jake still wanted him to listen. He took his fathers hand a caressed his palm with his fingers while he said what he needed to say. Once he was done, I gave Jake a hug as his red face were completely covered in tears.

“He will be okay, I promise” I reassured him. We walked out of the room to discover his mom sitting next to the window, face completely void of emotion. He hasn’t spoken a word since we have gotten here.

“You know…. he was really excited for you both to come back. He was practically counting down the days” she admitted, wiping a tear from here eye. “I was so excited with him” she added. Her words shatter my heart. How is she not screaming in anger right now. Angry at the world for doing this to her innocent husband. That was something I admired about her. She was always able to contain her emotions well, almost too well.

Seeing both her and Jake in this state was absolutely terrible. I knew it would only take a miracle to fix this given his dads condition. “It’ll all be okay, Jake, don’t cry” I assure him. “It won’t, how am I supposed to deal with this? How am I supposed to go back to school without seeing him, talking to him… it hurts” “There is still a chance that he will make it Jake, don’t give up on it. I know he wants you to wait for him”

He couldn’t say anything, all he could do was bury his face into my shoulder and sob. He tried to form words, but they were only choked noises which caused him to cry even harder. “Shh its okay, I am here” I assure him. Me, Jake and his mom spent the night in the hospital. His mom slept in the room with his dad and me and Jake slept in a guest waiting room. Well, I was the only one who was able to get some sleep. Jake was up all night worrying about his father. I could hear him crying as I were trying to fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks had passed and his fathers condition remained the same, and to be honest, Jake and his mom seemed like they kind of accepted that this was the way that things were going to be.

We were back at the house, his mom would just go to work and lock herself in her room until she had to go to work again and Jake and I were preparing to go back to Korea for the Winter semester.

Mrs Sim did not want to see us leave, and she made it very clear. We were her last hope with everything going on with her husband. I really wish me and Jake could stay back to support her but we have jobs and bills that we have to get back to, and life can’t just pause for us. We promised we would let her know how we are feeling, how much we missed each other and everything else that went along with saying goodbye.

We leave in 3 days, and we made it our mission to hang out with his mom as much as we could before we left. She hasn’t taken a break either… no time to her self she just has to keep working to pay for the house and the piling medical bills.

Those last few days, we took Mrs. Sim out for lunch at her favorite Thai restaurant. She seemed to genuinely smile for the first time in weeks as we joked and reminisced about times when all 4 of us were together. One night, we rented some classic movies she loved and made her favorite snacks. We cuddled up on the couch, enjoying the familiar feeling of just being together as a family again, if only briefly.

Jake and I helped around the house as much as we could - running errands, doing yard work, and cooking meals to give his mom a little respite. We made sure to soak in every moment because we didn't know when we'd all be together like that again.

~~~~~~~~~~

When it came time for our early morning departure back to Korea, Mrs. Sim took us both in for a tight hug, her eyes brimming with tears. "Take care of each other," she whispered hoarsely.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ Jake grabs our suitcases out of the trunk and his mom pulls me to the side.

“Please promise to take care of him for me. You have always been a safe place for him, I can only imagine how he has been feeling” she begged. I held bother of her hands in the palms of mine. “I promise, Mrs Sim, I will do everything in my power to take care of him, don’t worry. You have other things to worry about” I reassure her pulling her into a hug.

Layla climbs through the back of the car from the front seat and jumps out of the trunk to say good bye, jumping all over me and Jake just like when we first arrived. “Yes you’re such a good girl” he scruffs up her ears while giving her a kiss on the forehead. I gave Layla some belly rubs before his mom guided her back into the car.

“Please text me when you board, and call me when you land, I need to know that the two of you are safe.” said his mom. “Of course” we pulled her into one last hug. “I love you guys” she sobbed “I love you too” we said in unison as we walked towards to enterance, leaving his mom in the parking lot.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ride back home was hard for Jake. 10 hours of restlessness. The only time I saw Jake act kind of okay was at our layover in Manila. I tried to leave him be for most of the trip.

-

We landed at the airport in Seoul and made our way back through customs and immigration, I swear the process of getting out of the airport is more stressful than planing a trip itself. We load our things into my car, missing the excitement that Layla brought to the car ride.

Before we got into the car, Jake comes behind me and turns me around into a hug. “I am really worried about her… my parents have been together for so long I can’t imagine how she would react with out him” he cried into my arms. “Your mom is a strong woman, I know it. She has you and I know she will be able to get through it.” I rub his back and lay my head into the crook of his neck.

I walk him over to his door and open it, letting him get into is and rest, we still had a 45 minute drive back to our place. I just let him ‘rest’ his eyes the whole way and I sat in silence trying not to wake him. The ride was bumpy, or maybe I was more aware of my surroundings not given that Jake wasn’t talking my ear off the whole time. I don’t mean it as a bad thing but he does a great job at keeping me company in the car. But that element was absent this time.

We were outside of our house quicker than expected. Jake was still fast asleep, he looked up he most peaceful than I have seen him these past few weeks I really did not want to wake him up. “Jakey we’re here” I whisper and gently grip his shoulder. He groans. He untucks his arms from under his shirt and rubs his eyes, trying to adjust to the light.

We make way up to the door, he didn’t bother grabbing anything out of the car but I was completely okay with grabbing everything if it meant he would get some rest. As soon as we stepped in the door, he took off his shoes and hurried to his bedroom, he didn’t ever bother changing his clothes before plopping onto his bed in pure exhaustion.

I found myself following him to the bed and sitting on the edge and grazing his back with my fingernails. My hands made way up to his hair and I combed his strands with my fingers. He turns over to lay on his back and I sit and admire his beautiful face while his eyes are closed. So peaceful. I couldn’t fight the urge to lean down and give his a soft peck before heading back to the car.

He didn’t seem to mind, his lips were soft as they instantly melted into mine for a few seconds. He didn’t seem supprised or shocked at all. He made it feel natural. “Thank you” he said, barely audible. I leaned in for another kiss, a smile building on my face as our lips met. No verbal response was needed, my smile against his spoke for itself.

~~~~~~~~~~

We had gotten back into our normal work and school schedule following the break. I still was not seeing Jake as much as I would like and it seems like I was getting less and less information by the day on his dad, which worried me. I tried to call Mrs Sim every single day to check in and get updates, as well as update her on mine and Jake’s life. She treated me like a friend. Like a daughter. I am very thankful to be accepted by her in that way.

Jake was clearly getting more stressed with work and school and I couldn’t figure out a way to ease the stress for him, all I could do was hope that it wouldn’t end up being too much.

Mrs Sim told me briefly once while we were on a phone call that me and her call way more often that her and Jake do. Jake has always been a texter and his Mom simply had to deal with not hearing her baby boys voice as often as she would like, which is why it was weird when me and Jake were laying in my bed around 11pm and his phone starts ringing.

Both of us were on the verge of falling asleep and the light from his phone screen made the situation more uncomfortable. At first Jake just reached over and turned off the ringer.

“Hey did you even see who it was? What if it was important” I question his instinct to end the call. “Fine let me look” he groans.

He reached over and grabs his phone and looks at the screen ‘Mom’ is what it read. “Answer it!” I urged him. Jake was hesitant. I think he thought that this was going to be the call, which he has been preparing to avoid at all costs.

Instead of letting the line go to voicemail, I snatch the phone out of his hand and answer if myself. “Hello Mrs Sim, is everything alright?”

“I am so glad to hear your voice. Is Jake around? It is important. Put it on speaker” she said.

“You’re on speaker” I informed her.

“Jake, your father is home, I picked him up about an hour ago. The doctor said that septic shock caused him to go into the coma, and they were able to treat the infection and keep him steady with some blood and IV fluids. He woke up yesterday and has shown no signs of complication ever since. I will take him back in a few days for testing and a check up. They saved him Jake… They saved him.” His mother explained ecstatically, crying tears of happiness.

Jake’s face immediately lit up, with what I could see from the light of the phone screen. He instantly started crying.

“Baby I wish you were here right now. he misses you so much” he claimed.

Jake couldn’t even speak through his tears and his hitched breathing. “I love you so much mom, tell dad I love him and I will see him soon”

He sets the phone down and buries his face into my chest, letting out full on sobs. the toll that this situation has taken on his body physically and mentally was very obvious and I know he has been wanting good news.

~~~~~~~~~~

Weeks had passed and we came back to Australia for the Winter break. Jake was more excited than ever. When he saw his dad get out of the car at the airport, I had never see Jake run so fast in my life. Their hug seemed like it was out of a movie and he had been latched to his dad everyday since being back at his house.

His parents kind of picked up on me and Jake’s relationship, and didn’t question why I was wanting to sleep in Jake’s room and not the guest room any more.

We were laying there facing each other, admiring each others beauty in the dim moon light shining through the blinds.

“Tell me Jake, do you believe in fate?” I questioned lowly.

He looks somewhat startled. “Y’know, I have never really thought about that. After everything that has happened this year, I think I would say that I do” he confirmed, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah I think I do too”

[formulaic-one]

THAT brocedes interview

That gave me heart palpitations. I feel CRAZY.

Here's a full transcript:

DC (On Toto Wolff and Zac Brown missing Christian): Your yin needs and yang, Nico, I would say on that one, so in most respects I think they probably are.

NR: It's like Senna and Prost, who suddenly, when Prost retired, Senna realised, 'Oh damn, I hate that guy, but I actually want him to be here.' And they became best friends afterwards

DC: Well, your world championship win in 2016, would you look back on that so fondly now if it hadn't have been Lewis Hamilton that you beat, who was your teammate and your big rival at the time?

NR: No, of course not, that really made uh- was a big part of it for sure, so you are right, in that sense.

DC: So do you miss Lewis now?

NR: Uh (laughs nervously)

DC: (unintelligible) just ask the question-

NR: uh- I- I'm okay, I'm okay

DC: Are you still next-door neighbours?

NR: We uh-, we live in the same building, yeah, so we catch up from time to time. But we have a very nice, mutual relationship now UM-

DC and MB: "A very nice mutual relationship...."

NR: Moving on-

DC: Have you- has he still got your safe? Was it when he first moved in, you put his- your little safe in his apartment?

NR: The other way, he put his safe in our apartment.

DC: Yeah, you looked after the jewellery for a bit.

NR: I was considering whether I should kind of like I should forget where I put it when he next asked for it but then I did give it back.

MB: When I was driving for McLaren and you two kids, were karting at the time, came in and terrorised the motorhome, you were so annoying as kids, you and Lewis, running 'round the place

NR: Yes, uh-

MB: Causing havoc, I've always wanted to tell you that actually.

DC to MB: And there you were trying to have a nice quiet moment.

MB: Well me and Nico have a mutual relationship, as of now anyway.

NR: The worst was the hotel rooms we left behind because we shared a hotel room for two years. Uh and we would have- like- wrestling competitions (laughs) in the hotel room. They (the hotel rooms) would not look- they wouldn't be at their best afterwards.

DC: Bit like rock and roll on tour was it?

NR: Yes yes yes

DC: Sometimes I love a rain delay because you get the sort of information we never actually expected to get when you came into work that day.

..... after some talk about the weather .....

NR: Is there any way- I just got sent this funny picture of Lewis and I as thirteen-year-olds, is there any way for me to get that on screen or?

The photo in question:

NR: I just got that yesterday, because we were always on holiday together you know, we were best friends at the time. So here was us actually at my parents house, quading, flat out quading, always with an engine, full speed on everything. And Lewis was proper nuts, like he was nuts. Completely. I remember once we went jet skiing together, I was on the back of him, on the same jet ski, oh my goodn- I made- I had such a big shunt, I flew off in the biggest way. And then we went with two stand up jet skis, and we were- I was watching him go off this giant wave from the ferry, he did not lift. He was- I'd never seen someone go so high, airborne and he came crashing down and knocked open his chin, when he smacked down onto the jet ski as he landed, just completely- so he was lying there half unconscious, I had to- I had to go like check that he's okay, his chin was cut open, a complete nutcase,

[harrysgal]

SOMETHING DIFFERENT

harry styles x yn stylist — social media AU

I’ve been stuck with I dig your cinema for a while now, so I wanted to do something different to distract myself and somehow came up with this. Idk I just went along with this idea I had in mind and stopped when I reached the 30 pictures. Of course that means I didn’t get to finish it yet, but here it is anyway. Sorry if it sucks.

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liked by someone, bestie and 87k others 

magazine EXCLUSIVE: Jessie Moss and Harry Styles have split after nearly five months of dating. 

“Jessie and Harry have spent a lovely time together, but ultimately they just weren’t the right fit for one another,” says a rep for the actress.

Read the full statement at the link in our bio.

view all 1,014 comments

harryone ???????? harrytwo i’m sorry but WHAT THE FUCK??  harrythree no way 😲   harryfour i’m so confused right now harryfive wasn’t he giving an interview and talking about her like a week ago?!  jessiefanone well this sucks :( he really seemed to like her

harrysix this is ridiculous cmon. i fully refuse to believe it’s real harryseven first time he’s so public about a relationship and they just break up like this? OUT OF NOWHERE?

↳ harryeight that’s what i’ve been saying! the man was WHIPPED  ↳ harrynine this wasn’t mutual, i’ll tell you that much…. ↳ harryten also the fact that her fans are dead silent right now is soooo weird  ↳ harryeleven always knew she was too nice and cute to be true 

jandh4ever NO NO NO NO NO STOP  jandh4ever WHY WOULD THEY BREAK UP  jandh4ever THERE’S NO WAY THIS IS TRUE  jandh4ever NO WAY jandh4ever I DONT BELIEVE IT  jessiefantwo Guys, just read the article. Someone from Jessie’s team released the statement, so it’s real. They broke up, and that’s it. Let’s give them some privacy, it’s not our business. 

↳ harrytwelve i bet you’re all happy right now, arent you? you guys never supported harry as her bf even tho he was clearly really into her ↳ harrythirteen so true. what a despicable fandom 

harryfourteen oh boy :( hope they are both doing okay! 

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liked by harryone and 5,431 others 

harryupdates Harry in London today! 

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harryone baby was mad :( harrytwo no bc a fan said they didnt approach him bc they felt like he wasnt in the mood and i totally get them now harrythree he was supposed to be at the wedding, too :(  harryfour did you guys see that video on tiktok of someone saying they overheard him on the phone and apparently he was talking about jessie??

↳ harryfive yes but im not sure I believe them. I mean anyone can say anything just to get attention… 

harrysix this whole thing makes me so sad for him like he really doesnt seem ok :( harryseven the way he just turned around as soon as he saw the pap lol im laughing sorry

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liked by jessiefan1, jessieupdates and 35,891 others

magazine EXCLUSIVE: Jessie Moss spotted kissing longtime friend just one week after split from Harry Styles. 

The Golden Globe-nominated actress was spotted in her hometown attending her childhood best friend’s wedding—where she was also seen sharing a passionate moment with longtime friend Nathan Griffiths.

“It was meant to be,” a guest at the wedding shared. “We all knew. We were just waiting for Nathan to make a move.”

Another insider added, “They are really happy together. The timing is complicated, but they’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

The photos surfaced just days after Moss’ team released a statement confirming the split. “Jessie and Harry have spent a wonderful time together, but ultimately, they just weren’t the right fit for one another,” a representative for the actress told MAGAZINE.

Read the full article at the link in our bio.

read all 3,681 comments 

harryone damn  harrytwo oh my  harrythree well… I guess now we know what happened 🧍🏻‍♀️ harryfour no bc for her team to release the statement so fast before the wedding means she KNEW what was about to happen harryfive I can’t believe she would do this to him???? harrysix has anyone checked on myparents on twitter? girl must be losing it lol harryseven I’m so sad and disappointed I don’t even know what to say 😞  harryeight i had a feeling the break up was suss but damn… i didnt know i would end up hating that girl jessiefanone i hope my baby doesn’t get canceled :( nathan and her have been friends for so long… it’s not a surprise they’ve always been in love with each other 

↳ harryfive if she’s always been in love with him then why did she even start dating someone else??? ↳ jessiefanone ＠harryfive i mean, have you ever been in love with a friend? it’s not that easy… i’m sure she didn’t know this would end up happening… 

jessiefan2 can harry’s fans please leave jessie alone? she’s never said one bad word about him and it’s not like she chose to hurt him on purpose 

↳ harrysix really??? have you read the article??? bc it surely seems everyone but harry knew about this ↳ harrynine she didn’t choose to hurt him but she definitely made sure to make herself available to kiss someone else 

harryten ngl i dont blame harry for never speaking about his relationships… look how messy this turned out to be  harryeleven at the end of the day, all I hope is that harry gets to live his happiest single era now… man def deserves it :( jessiefanthree I KNEW IT I KNEW IT OMG THIS IS THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY ENTIRE LIFE harrytwelve god i hate her fandom so fucking much

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👤 nathangriffiths

liked by nathangriffiths, herbff, jessiefan1 and 301,957

jessiemoss sometimes unexpected things happen in the most unexpected ways 💖

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liked by jefezoff, harry_lambert, gemmastyles and 301,765 others

harrystyles I’m so happy to announce that ‘Love On Tour 2022’ is finally coming to the UK, Europe and South America.

Public on sale begins on Friday, January 28th. Check your venue website for further information about your show.

I’m so excited to see you. Thank you, I love you. H

view all 16,765 comments  harryzero hii omg there you are :’) we missed youuuuu harryone YESSSS LET’S DO THISSSSS harrytwo 💘💘💘 can’t wait to see you!!!  harrythree there’s no better way to get over someone than to go on tour all over the world  harryfour baby really said who cares about my ex i have my fans im gonna visit all of them 🥲 harryfive all im saying is: singlerry in south america harrysix YESSS!!!!! take all my money i dont care it’s all yours i just want to see youuu harryseven hope you’re doing okay <3 we love you!

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harryone, harrytwo and 51 others

singlerry As a proud supporter of Harry’s single era, I don’t only bring this blind to your attention, but I also say that I hope it really is about him and says nothing but the true. GO FOR IT BABE!

view all 10 comments harryone not deuxmoi making him sound like a whore 😩 harrytwo honestly i hope it’s true, too. hope he’s kissing everyone and having the greatest time harrythree i volunteer in case he runs out of options harryfour okay i don’t actually believe deuxmoi, sorry lol but also the idea of harry just going out and being single like a normal human being (man) sounds really funny to me idk harryfive you guys should check twitter right now…….. lol

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liked by harryone, harrytwo and 2,376 others

harryupdates Harry leaving a club in London last night. 

view all 139 comments

harryzero MY BABYYYY  harryone it’s been two months guys how did we even survive all this time without him :(  harrytwo man is looking gooooooooooddddd harrythree BOY LOOKS HAPPYYYYYY harrythree i bet he kissed the girl!!!!! 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 harryfour SINGLERRY IS SO HOT AND I’M SO HERE FOR IT harryfive hope he’s having the time of his life <3

↳ harrysix sounds like he is… he was seen flirting with multiple girls all night hahaha  ↳ harryfour that’s what i’ve been saying: he’s in his single era and i’m here for it lol

harryseven looking good, single, and healthy 🔥 harryeight nathan who??? harrynine lmao jessie moss you will be regretting this loss for the rest of your life !!

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liked by harryone, harrytwo and 75 others

singlerry okay so no signs of harry out partying tonight BUT (!!!) it’s almost 3am in london and he JUST followed this girl on ig

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harryone shut up 😯 are you serious? harrytwo pls !!! to be in harry’s mind at 3am harrythree some people are just so lucky harrythree some people are never me harrythree im never some people harryfour why do i feel like i’ve seen her before? 🤔

↳ harryfive because i’m pretty sure she’s the stylist that works with lambert ↳ harrysix she is, yessss! she was in LA when lambert styled jessie for those red carpets ↳ harryfour so she’s the one who styled jessie when lambert styled harry? ↳ harrysix yes! haha  ↳ harryseven what???

harryeight okay what’s the big deal? sorry i really dont get it  harrynine guys if she’s a stylist and works with lambert maybe it’s work related

↳ harryten i’m sorry but have you seen her profile?? that man did NOT follow her at 3 in the morning bc of work lmaoooo

harryeleven well idk about you but i just followed her, too 🥵 harrytwelve i need more info pls i mean what’s the gossip here? he just followed, right? so…?

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liked by harrystyles, bestie, harry_lambert and 37,019 others

yourinstagram so sorry I haven’t checked my phone lately xxx

view all 105 comments 

bestie except to text me x

↳ harry_lambert and to text me x ↳ yourinstagram indeed x ↳ yourinstagram so if you need me contact my friends, please xxx

someone stunning as usual  sometwo girl that body 😭 share the secret i beg you harryone my jaw lays on the floor harrytwo I will not say it, I will not say it, I will not say it…  harrythree we see you harryyyyy harryfour harryyyyy!!! that was quick lolll  harryfive omg guys stop being embarrassing he’s not 12 give him at least some privacy??

↳ harrysix this is instagram… im pretty sure he knows he’s not going to be private here 🤷‍♀️ ↳ harryfive still!!! stop calling him out!!!  ↳ harryseven yeah… especially bc it could be just work related and here you are making things awkward… so please stop

harryeight girl at least follow him back 😭 poor guy jessiefanone why am I still following you? 🤮 jessiefantwo nathan didn’t like this post!!!!

↳ jessiefanthree no he didn’t!!!! ↳ jessiefanfour that’s the jessie effect!  ↳ jessiefanfive can you imagine knowing guys only care about you when the real ones aren’t available? so sad  ↳ jessiefansix also guys, our theories about what happened make so much sense it’s crazy 

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liked by harry_lambert, bestie, harrystyles and 27,651 others

yourinstagram this week was one of THOSE weeks. meaning I’ve been exhausted all day every day whilst feeling the luckiest on earth with the greatest job that I love more than anything in the world. 

thanks again ＠harry_lambert for bringing me in to your journey. I love you just as much as I love all my mini slutty skirts xxx

view all 56 comments  harry_lambert as much as the mini slutty skirts? 😯  harry_lambert damn that’s real babe, thank you harry_lambert also this is OUR journey x  harry_lambert and also I love you x bestie you two teaming up was the greatest thing that could’ve ever happened to me. I love you both ＠harry_lambert ＠yourinstagram  someone mother of the internet  sometwo the balance between posting work mode pics but still bringing the mini skirts up  cousin do you ever get a family discount or something?

↳ yourinstagram haha come over next week i might have something for you

harryone is he taking you on tour with harry, too? 👀 harrytwo not me checking if he liked her post (of course he did!!) and if she finally followed him back (no she didn’t!!) 

↳ harrythree girl ＠yourinstagram plssssss just follow him ↳ harrythree boy must be just waiting for the day he gets an interaction

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unfortunately only 30 pictures allowed...

[helenofsparta2]

This is another sentence in Heroes of Olympus, that I absolutely despise. It completely misrepresents the relationship development between Percy and Nico at the end of PJO.

By the end of the original series, Nico and Percy were clearly written as friends (at least from Percy's perspective). Nico's phase as the "angry loner following the ghost of Minos" ended as early as the last third of "Battle of the Labyrinth". After that, in the last chapters of that book, in "The Last Olympian" and in the short story "The Sword of Hades", Nico was still guarded, yes, but also witty, sincere, and determined to help. A growth that Percy very much recognized and understood.

Their relationship, while complex, had softened into something which at least resembled a genuine friendship and mutual respect.

So to read Heroes of Olympus and read about Percy describing Nico like he barely knows him is really annoying. It feels like the emotional progress between them was wiped completely clean, and their shared history almost completely ignored. There is a clear dissonance between how their relationship was portrayed at the end of PJO and how it was suddenly redefined in Hoo.

Here are some of their interactions in "Battle of the Labyrinth", "Sword of Hades" and "The Last Olympian", just to prove my point:

“Thanks for coming after us,” I told him at last. Nico’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t seem as angry as he used to—just suspicious, careful. “I owed you for the ranch, Percy. Plus…I wanted to see Daedalus for myself. Minos was right, in a way. Daedalus should die. Nobody should be able to avoid death that long. It’s not natural.” “That’s what you were after all along,” I said. “Trading Daedalus’s soul for your sister’s.” Nico walked for another fifty yards before answering. “It hasn’t been easy, you know. Having only the dead for company. Knowing that I’ll never be accepted by the living. Only the dead respect me, and they only do that out of fear.” “You could be accepted,” I said. “You could have friends at camp.” (Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 16)

“Nico…you, uh, kind of gave yourself away.” “What do you mean?” “That wall of black stone? That was pretty impressive. If Kronos didn’t know who you were before, he does now—a child of the Underworld.” Nico frowned. “Big deal.” I let it drop. I figured he was just trying to hide how scared he was, and I couldn’t blame him. (Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 17)

Before she could say more, Tyson called, “Percy, come quick! It is Nico!” There was smoke curling off his black clothes. His fingers were clenched, and the grass all around his body had turned yellow and died. I rolled him over as gently as I could and put my hand against his chest. His heart was beating faintly. “Get some nectar!” I yelled. One of the Ares campers hobbled over and handed me a canteen. I trickled some of the magic drink into Nico’s mouth. He coughed and spluttered, but his eyelids fluttered open. “Nico, what happened?” I asked. “Can you talk?” He nodded weakly. “Never tried to summon so many before. I—I’ll be fine.” We helped him sit up and gave him some more nectar. (Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 18)

Nico turned and saw me, but he didn’t look mad. “Saying good-bye,” he said hoarsely. “We missed you at dinner,” I said. “You could’ve sat with me.” “No.” “Nico, you can’t miss every meal. If you don’t want to stay with Hermes, maybe they can make an exception and put you in the Big House. They’ve got plenty of rooms.” “I’m not staying, Percy.” “But…you can’t just leave. It’s too dangerous out there for a lone half-blood. You need to train.” (Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 19)

“When will you go?” I asked. “Right away. I’ve got tons of questions. Like who was my mother? Who paid for Bianca and me to go to school? Who was that lawyer guy who got us out of the Lotus Hotel? I know nothing about my past. I need to find out.” “Makes sense,” I admitted. “But I hope we don’t have to be enemies.” He lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry I was a brat. I should’ve listened to you about Bianca.” “By the way…” I fished something out of my pocket. “Tyson found this while we were cleaning the cabin. Thought you might want it.” I held out a lead figurine of Hades—the little Mythomagic statue Nico had abandoned when he fled camp last winter. Nico hesitated. “I don’t play that game anymore. It’s for kids.” “It’s got four thousand attack power,” I coaxed. “Five thousand,” Nico corrected. “But only if your opponent attacks first.” I smiled. “Maybe it’s okay to still be a kid once in a while.” I tossed him the statue. Nico studied it in his palm for a few seconds, then slipped it into his pocket. “Thanks.” I put out my hand. He shook reluctantly. His hand was as cold as ice. “I’ve got a lot of things to investigate,” he said. “Some of them…Well, if I learn anything useful, I’ll let you know.” I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I nodded. “Keep in touch, Nico.” (Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 19)

Nico tapped at his silver ring. “But that’s not the real reason I’ve come. I’ve found out some things. I want to make you an offer.” “What?” “The way to beat Luke,” he said. “If I’m right, it’s the only way you’ll stand a chance.” I took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m listening.” Nico glanced inside my room. His eyebrows furrowed. “Is that…is that blue birthday cake?” He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if the poor kid had ever had a birthday party, or if he’d ever even been invited to one. “Come inside for some cake and ice cream,” I said. “It sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.” (Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 20)

I glanced at Thalia. She didn’t seem too enthusiastic about the whole track-a-thief-with-a-flower-thing. Then I looked at Nico. Unfortunately, I recognized the expression on his face. I knew what it was like wanting to make your dad proud, even if your dad was hard to love. In this case, really hard to love. Nico was going to do this, with or without us. And I couldn’t let him go alone. (The Demigod Files: The Sword of Hades)

Not a single drop. I can’t let a single drop of water touch them. The River Lethe fought me. It didn’t want to be forced out of its banks. It wanted to crash down on my friends (Nico and Thalia), wipe their minds clean and drown them. But I held the arc. (The Demigod Files: The Sword of Hades)

Thalia and Nico were still entranced, staring at the goddess as if she were their long-lost mother. I thought about other friends I’d seen die- Bianca di Angelo, Zoe Nightshade, Lee Fletcher, to name a few. “I’ve made my peace with them,” I said. “They’ve passed on. They’re not ghosts. Now, let my friends go!” I slashed at Melinoe with my sword. (The Demigod Files: The Sword of Hades)

“Are you sure you want to stay here?” I asked. “Persephone will make your life miserable.” “I have to,” he insisted. “I have to get close to my dad. He needs a better adviser.” I couldn’t argue with that. “Well, if you need anything-“ “I’ll call,” he promised. (The Demigod Files: The Sword of Hades)

The scene shifted. Now I was outside the pavilion, hiding in the shadows of a Greek column. A boy stood next to me, eavesdropping on the Titans. He had dark silky hair, pale skin, and dark clothes—my friend Nico di Angelo, the son of Hades. (The Last Olympian, Chapter 2)

Nico slid off Mrs. O'Leary's back and crumpled in a heap on the black sand. I took out a square of ambrosia—part of the emergency god-food I always kept with me. It was a little bashed up, but Nico chewed it. "Uh," he mumbled. "Better." "Your powers drain you too much," I noted. He nodded sleepily. "With great power . . . comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later." "Whoa, zombie dude." I caught him before he could pass out again. "We're at the river. You need to tell me what to do." (The Last Olympian, Chapter 8)

I looked down at my clothes. They were slashed to pieces and full of bullet holes, but I was fine. Not a mark on me. Nico's mouth hung open. "You just . . . with a sword . . . you just—" "I think the river thing worked," I said. "Oh gee," he said sarcastically. "You think?" (The Last Olympian, Chapter 8)

Like, Percy and Nico had such a fascinating, complex, but also heartwarming friendship at the end of "The Last Olympians" and they went through so much together. And yet, Heroes of Olympus completely regresses their relationship as if none of that mattered.

This is probably my fourth, or fifth post about them, but i don't care. Their relationship deserved so much better. I fear, I'll never shut up about them:(((((

[lalaluna20]

High school sweethearts

jinx x reader highschool modern au

(my first jinx writing)

Before school

jinx is a total lover girl. she’s completely lovesick the second you guys start dating (even in the present she’s still lovesick)

she wakes up 20-30 minutes before you do trying to come up with the perfect good morning message. she just wants to make sure you start your day off with a smile.

she usually gets to school an hour before it starts just so she can spend time with you. 

she’s often drags her university athlete sister vi out of the house each morning. making the exhausted college student drive to your favorite coffee shop just so she can surprise you.

“I got you your favorite!” she exclaims handing you the drink. “aww, thank you baby.” you say softly, giving her a hug. which she happily returns, taking it as a silent win.

often hangout places are: your first period, the commons, the library, or your favorite teacher’s room (like that headcannon that jinx’s favorite teacher is viktor).

you guys would often work on homework you forgot to do the night before. Or would talk about your night, if you had good dreams and what not.

if you had to retake, makeup a test or get some extra help on a topic you didn’t understand, she would wait for you until you get done. still wanting to be close and spend time with you, even if that means spending time with you for a minute before having to part ways for class.

During school

jinx has separation anxiety so she’ll try to spend as much time with you. walking you to each of your classes, even if that means she’ll be late to her own. sits next to you in your shared class. will often ask the teacher if she could get paired next to you. thankfully the teachers say yes because surprisingly you both actually focus and don’t mess around. she’ll also try to have all the same classes as you.

“baby you can take ap physics. it’s okay i promise” you reassure her. jinx who is currently choosing between ap environmental vs. ap physics. she really likes robotics and engineering, she also plans to pursue that as her major in college so it makes sense for her to take. “but you’re not in it” :( she whines. “yea but we have 4 same courses, which means we have potentially 4 classes together.” 

if she can’t walk you to your next class then she’ll hurry to her class just so she can text you how she misses you and maybe a few insta reels. 

“sorry i can’t walk you to class baby :(“ “i miss you, i love you <3”

if you guys have the same lunch, you eat with her and your guys friend group. more times than not you guys are in your own little world. you often hear her talk about your day and vice versa. if you guys were interacting with the rest of the group it was often filled with jokes and laughter.

if you guys have different lunches she try to meet you during the passing period between the two lunches. walking you to your class, giving you a quick squeeze and kiss on the forehead.

(idk if yall’s schools have academic focus time but it’s basically like a class period where you can go to other classes to do retakes, get help from teachers, etc.) If you guys have different aft teachers then you’ll mutually agree which class to go to. making sure you make a pass in advance. If you can’t go to aft with her due to a retake test or needing help, best believe she’s blowing up your phone with insta reels.

if you guys have different last periods than you best believe she’ll be waiting for you. if her class is near by than she’ll be there the second the bell rings. if you guys are on opposite ends of the school than she’ll be their in a minute or two.

you’re currently walking with your one friend who you have last period with. as you guys walk to the usual exit you run into jinx. who is happily walking your direction to meet up with you. “honestly i think i did pretty good on the test the only thing that got me-“ you couldn’t finish your sentence due to being tackled by your girlfriend. “hey baby, hey [your friend’s name] what were you talking about?” she greets and ask cheerful. holding your hand tightly, happy to be with you again.

after school

y’all would walk to the last drop mostly everyday. jinx’s fathers were pretty chill and absolutely adored you so you were always welcomed.

your parents were iffy at first just because they didn’t want their teenage daughter at a bar, but when they picked you up after your first time over, they completely fell in love with the bar and jinx’s fathers.

you guys would study together for hours. either in the back of the bar or her room. if you guys find yourselves needing help you would sit at the counter. often getting help from slico and vander while they put together drinks.

sometimes you would go to her hide out. where she would work on the inventors project to work with ekko. while they work you’re working on math homework. if you look up from your work, jinx would take that as a sign needing help.

she would literally drop everything just to help you out.

If you’re unable to go to the last drop after school, she’ll go to your house so she can hang out with you.

you guys would work on homework for 40 minutes and then take a 20 minute cuddle break.

wanting to be a good girlfriend she would make sure you guys had snacks and drinks. the second you ran out of your drink, she would get you a refill. you would feel bad, not wanting her to feel like a servant, but she’ll just brush you off saying. “i like taking care of you Toots.

i hope you enjoyed -love luna

[purplereina11]

🏀 Based after Eleven 🏀

Chapter 3

It started as playful online chemistry with someone unexpected-Alexia Putellas. Flirty banter turned into late-night texts before a heated moment on a club balcony shifted everything.

Now it was post game meet-ups, no-strings friends-with-benefits arrangement. They shared passion, comfort, and the grind of pro sports. But as the season went on, lines blurred.

It was supported to stay simple. These things never do however. Not in professional sports. The option to stay isn't always yours.

You walked cautiously down the supermarket aisle, mentally running through your shopping list, when you froze mid-step. Alba stood directly ahead, inspecting a row of cereals with a thoughtful frown. Your heart leapt into your throat; suddenly, you wished you'd decided to shop anywhere else today.

She turned slightly, catching sight of you out of the corner of her eye. Her face immediately flushed scarlet, matching your own instant embarrassment.

“Oh...hi,” you offered weakly, voice strained with awkwardness. Your hand rose stiffly in a half-wave.

Alba cleared her throat, looking down at the cereal box she held like it was suddenly the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen. “Hey.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched between you both. You shifted nervously, desperately searching for something—anything—to break the tension.

“So,” Alba started abruptly, eyes carefully averted, voice tight with forced casualness. “About yesterday...I’m sorry. I really should've knocked.”

“No, no,” you rushed out quickly, wishing you could disappear into thin air. “That was totally our fault. I mean—my fault. Your sister didn’t—I mean—we didn’t mean—”

Alba finally glanced up at you, her mortification mingled with reluctant amusement. “Let’s just both pretend it never happened, okay?”

“Deal,” you said quickly, relief flooding your voice. “Definitely forgotten.”

She chuckled softly, visibly relaxing as you both accepted the shared embarrassment. “Good. Because I’m pretty sure Alexia wants to bury the memory, too.”

You laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, we haven't exactly talked about it yet.”

Alba gave you a knowing, gentle smile. “Well, I’m guessing my sister is going to be more careful about locking doors from now on.”

“Probably a good idea,” you joked softly, some of the tension easing. “We’ve learned our lesson.”

She chuckled, finally meeting your eyes again, the awkwardness slowly fading into amusement. “Anyway, I’ll...see you around?”

You nodded, relieved the moment was finally easing. “Definitely. Preferably under different circumstances next time.”

“Agreed,” Alba said with a soft laugh, backing away toward the checkout. “See you around.”

As she disappeared around the corner, you exhaled deeply, shaking your head. Alexia was right—her sister was definitely never letting either of you live this down.

The second you were safely back in your car, you pulled out your phone and called Alexia. She answered almost immediately, voice cheerful and teasing.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?”

“Funny,” you replied dryly, leaning back against the seat. “Guess who I just ran into at the supermarket?”

Alexia paused, clearly sensing the hesitation in your voice. “Please tell me it wasn’t my sister.”

“Bingo.”

“Oh my god,” Alexia groaned softly, embarrassment obvious in her voice. “Was it bad?”

You laughed, tension easing slightly as you remembered Alba’s equally mortified expression. “Honestly? I think she was even more embarrassed than I was.”

Alexia sighed dramatically. “Well, that’s reassuring. Did she say anything?”

“She offered to mutually erase yesterday from our memory,” you said lightly. Alexia laughed softly, a relieved, genuine sound. You chuckled, shaking your head affectionately. “Look, I think we’re fine. Alba handled it better than I expected. Awkward, yes, but survivable.”

Alexia’s voice softened warmly. “I guess I owe her dinner or something.”

“As long as you don’t eat at the table,” you teased playfully, feeling the tension of the awkward encounter fade completely.

“Deal,” Alexia agreed, her voice filled with humour and affection. “But maybe next time we’ll keep it in the bedroom.”

“No promises,” you teased softly, grinning to yourself.

She laughed again, warm and genuine. “You’re impossible.”

“You like impossible.”

“Unfortunately, very much so.”

You smiled, heart relaxing completely. Yesterday’s embarrassment already felt lighter. “Then I’ll see you later?”

“You better,” Alexia replied warmly. “Just avoid my sister on the way.”

“No guarantees,” you joked, already planning your next move. “But I’ll try.”

—

You stood outside Alexia’s apartment door, your finger hovering over the buzzer when footsteps approached. You turned, surprise and dread mingling in your chest as Alba appeared in the hallway.

She halted abruptly, eyes widening when she saw you. “You again,” she said, raising an amused eyebrow. “Should I knock first this time?”

You laughed awkwardly, shifting on your feet. “I’d hope she wasn’t naked with someone on her dining table.”

Alba smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort, as she pressed the buzzer herself. Alexia opened the door moments later, smiling brightly until her eyes landed on Alba standing next to you.

“Oh—Alba?” Alexia’s voice lifted in surprise, eyes darting between you and her sister. “What are you doing here?”

Alba folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Did you already forget we had dinner plans? You invited me remember”

Alexia winced slightly, cheeks flushing pink as her gaze flickered to yours apologetically. Clearly, this wasn’t part of the evening she'd planned.

“Oh, right,” Alexia stammered awkwardly, stepping aside. “I…must’ve forgotten.”

“I can see why,” Alba teased, shooting you a pointed look as she stepped inside. “Clearly you had other plans.”

You smiled sheepishly, offering an awkward shrug. “I can come back later—”

“No, stay,” Alexia quickly insisted, touching your arm gently. “We’ll figure this out.”

Alba glanced knowingly at her sister, struggling to contain her amusement. “Relax. I don’t mind company. Just no dining table activities this time, please?”

Alexia groaned loudly, cheeks reddening immediately. “Seriously, Alba?”

Alba laughed softly, stepping toward the living room. “I’ll behave, but you two are never living that down.”

As Alba walked ahead, Alexia leaned closer, whispering apologetically, “I swear she does this on purpose.”

You chuckled, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “Maybe. Think she’d notice if we put a film on for her and disappear”

Alexia’s eyes narrowed playfully. “She's not a toddler, and don’t start.”

“Too late,” you teased softly, pulling her toward the living room. “Now let’s survive dinner with your sister, and we can finish our ‘plans’ afterward.”

She rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. “Deal—but no tables tonight.”

You laughed, glancing ahead at Alba’s amused expression. “Agreed. At least not while she’s here.”

As the evening went on, your initial embarrassment was slowly replaced by laughter and comfortable teasing. Alba’s presence turned into an entertaining session of embarrassing Alexia with stories from their childhood. She wasn’t near as harsh as she appeared.

“You know,” Alba began dramatically, grinning wickedly, “Alexia acts tough now, but did she ever tell you she cried when she found out Santa wasn’t real?”

“Alba—don’t you dare,” Alexia warned, cheeks bright red.

You laughed, leaning forward eagerly. “Oh, please continue.”

“Or when she had a crush on that awful singer when she was fourteen—what was her name, Alexia?”

Alexia groaned, covering her face. “Alba, I swear…”

“Oh, and don’t get me started on the time she tried to impress someone by learning how to skateboard—ended up with a broken wrist and still tried to act cool about it.”

You laughed harder, watching Alexia bury her face in embarrassment. “Keep going,” you encouraged, grinning at Alexia’s playful glare. “I’m learning so much.”

“Enough,” Alexia insisted, fighting back a smile despite her embarrassment. “You’re both impossible.”

Alba winked at you, clearly satisfied. “I have plenty more stories for next time.”

Alexia sighed dramatically, burying her face briefly in her hands. “There won’t be a next time”

“We’ll just cut out the middle man,” Alba teased affectionately, nudging her sister gently. “We’ll go for drinks without you. I like your friend”

You laughed again as Alexia hid her face in her hands, clearly giving up on stopping her sister’s playful assault on her dignity.

—

Sunlight slipped through the blinds, gently waking you the next morning. You opened your eyes slowly, taking in the comforting warmth of Alexia curled beside you, peacefully sleeping, her hair softly spread across the pillow.

The peaceful, easy intimacy between you felt strangely natural—dangerously natural, even. She stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open, instantly meeting yours with a sleepy smile.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice raspy from sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Sleep well?”

She stretched lightly, curling closer against your chest. “Perfectly. You?”

“With you here? Always.”

She chuckled quietly, tracing gentle circles against your skin. “Careful. Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

You smiled warmly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Maybe just a little.”

She laughed softly, shifting slightly to prop herself up on her elbow, looking down at you playfully. “I have to meet Alba for brunch. She’s dying to interrogate me after yesterday’s supermarket encounter.”

You grinned teasingly. “You know, I bet your sister has a whole list of questions prepared by now.”

Alexia groaned softly, hiding her face in your neck. “She definitely does. She was texting me questions until midnight.”

You laughed, gently brushing a hand through your hair. “I can hear it already—‘How long have you two been sneaking around?’ ‘Are you serious?’ ‘Are wedding bells ringing soon?’”

Alexia lifted her head, eyes narrowed but playful. “You’re enjoying this entirely too much.”

“Maybe just a little,” you admitted, eyes twinkling mischievously. “But it’s your fault. You introduced me.”

She shook her head fondly, pretending annoyance. “Just wait. She’s insisting on another dinner soon.”

Your smile widened. “Sounds like fun.”

“For you, maybe,” Alexia retorted, but her lips were curved in a smile. She kissed you quickly, reluctantly shifting out of bed. “I really have to go, or I'll never hear the end of it.”

You watched her dress, warmth filling your chest, completely at ease. She then got lost in her phone, clearly another text from Alba “Tell your sister she’ll have answers soon enough,” you teased lightly as she finally pulled on her shoes. “But maybe skip the details?”

Alexia smirked, tossing you a playful glare from the doorway. “No promises.”

You laughed as she left, already looking forward to the inevitable next hook up.

---

Alexia took a sip of her coffee, trying to ignore the knowing smirk Alba was aiming her way. The crowded café hummed softly around them, providing just enough privacy for Alba’s probing questions.

“So,” Alba began again, a teasing gleam in her eyes, “you and your basketball star... ‘casual,’ huh?”

Alexia sighed, rolling her eyes. “Alba, please. I told you—it’s just physical. We’re keeping it casual.”

Alba raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Casual? Alexia, you practically live at each other’s places.”

"We have a lot of sex" Alexia shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her sister’s eyes. “We’re busy, schedules match. It’s just convenient.”

Alba laughed softly, shaking her head. “Convenient? Really? Convenient enough to spend every waking moment together?”

“We don’t spend every moment together,” Alexia retorted quickly, cheeks warming despite her attempt to stay casual.

Alba raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Oh, please. You talk about her constantly, smile whenever her name comes up, and literally blush whenever your phone buzzes. Casual doesn’t look like that.”

Alexia sighed, smiling reluctantly into her coffee. “It’s just physical. Fun, uncomplicated.”

Alba leaned in, voice softer, gently pressing. “Are you sure about that? Because from what I’ve seen, especially the way you look at her—Alexia, you’re way past casual.”

Alexia hesitated, fingers tracing absent-mindedly around the rim of her cup. “It’s not supposed to be serious. It went without saying that we agreed on it being casual.”

Alba smiled knowingly, her voice filled with quiet sympathy. “Well, your heart clearly missed the memo.” Alexia rolled her eyes, but couldn’t deny the truth hidden in her sister’s words. Finally meeting Alba’s gaze, Alba spoke softly, reaching over to squeeze Alexia’s hand reassuringly. “Just protect that soft heart of yours.”

—

The ball slipped from your fingers just a half-second too late. Another turnover.

You gritted your teeth as the opposing team capitalised—fast break, easy layup. Your coach shouted for composure from the sidelines, but the damage was done.

The crowd roared as the scoreboard flashed the new reality:

58–64.

Third quarter. The game that could win you the League—first of four titles this season—was slipping away.

You paced near the top of the key during a timeout, jaw tight, heart racing. You wanted this. Needed it. But the other team was commanding the court with a calm precision that grated on your nerves. And the refs?

They were killing you. Phantom fouls. Missed travels. You couldn’t believe what was happening. As you made your way to the huddle, you muttered under your breath, barely keeping it together.

When the game resumed, it only got worse. Another no-call as you were shoved mid-drive. The whistle didn’t blow. You spun around, arms flung wide, storming up to the ref.

“Are you kidding me?! That’s the fifth time! What game are you watching?!” No answer. Just the cold, flat blow of the whistle against you. Offensive foul.

You froze, stunned. Hands on your hips, you turned toward the sideline, scanning the crowd, and that’s when you saw her.

Alexia. Front row, edge of her seat, eyes locked on you. Beside her, Alba was half-hiding her face in amusement, and next to her, a woman with the same fierce presence as Alexia her Mami.

And before you could fully process what was happening, Eli stood slightly and called you out. “Shut your mouth and keep your head!”

Clear. Stern. A mum voice if you’d ever heard one. It cut through the noise. Through the adrenaline. Through your boiling frustration. You blinked, stunned. Even the ref hesitated, lips twitching at the delivery. The arena reacted with a wave of laughter and surprise. The cameras caught all of it—your face, frozen mid-protest, mouth halfway open.

Alexia didn’t even flinch. She just reached over, calmly grabbed her drink, and sipped it like this was completely normal.

The internet was already having a field day.

Fan Tweet: "Alexia Putellas Mami just told [Your Name] to shut up 💀 ICON."

Clip circulating on socials: 📸 “When your situationship’s Mum coaches you mid-game…” 🎥 [Zoom-in on your stunned face, then cutting to Alexia calmly sipping from her drink like nothing happened.]

You shook your head in disbelief, half-laughing as you walked to the free-throw line, the frustration replaced with something else—focus.

It landed like a coach’s order. Maybe more. You looked at Alexia, who just smirked at you knowingly. The fourth quarter began—and everything shifted.

You stopped trying to control the refs. You started controlling the game. You locked in—locked them out. And when the final buzzer blared and confetti rained down, you stood at centre court, hands on your knees, breath heavy, eyes scanning the crowd again.

Alexia clapped slowly beside her, pride in her eyes. Alba was already laughing, phone in hand, recording the moment for future blackmail.

And Eli? She was nodding. Firm. Respectful. A little impressed. And that—for some reason—meant everything from a woman you hadn’t met.

You could barely feel your legs. Every muscle burned. Your lungs felt like fire. But you pushed through it—one final sprint, one last defensive stand, one more shot clock to survive.

The buzzer blared.

Game over.

You sank to your knees, stunned.

72–68.

The crowd erupted, a wall of sound crashing over the court. Your teammates screamed, rushed toward you in a blur of arms and jerseys, some laughing, some crying. But all you could do was stare up at the scoreboard in disbelief.

You’d done it.

History.

The first women’s basketball league trophy ever for Barcelona. The club that had never made it out group stages, the ones always fighting at the bottom of the table. The one people never bet on. The one the media overlooked, the sponsors ignored, the fans once barely filled the stands for.

Not anymore.

The arena was shaking with noise. And you—sweat-soaked, bruised, breathless—knelt at the centre of it.

You were the one who led them there. But getting there hadn’t been clean. The game had been chaos. The opponents had you cornered for most of it—pressing hard, dominating tempo, calling out every pass before it even left your hands. And the refs, they were no help. You’d lost your cool more than once, snapping in Spanish, pacing the sideline like a storm. At one point, you even turned toward the crowd, mouthing off loud enough for half the arena to hear.

As confetti rained down and your teammates swarmed you in celebration, the announcer’s voice rang out over the loudspeakers, barely heard over the chaos: “History made tonight! For the first time ever, Barcelona are the Women’s League Champions!”

The crowd was thunderous. Chants of Barca pulsed through the arena like a heartbeat. People waved banners, phones lit up like stars, camera flashes catching every second. Streamers exploded from the rafters in team colours. It felt unreal. You stumbled back a step and lifted your hands to the air, letting the roar wash over you.

Then the chant started: “M-V-P! M-V-P! M-V-P!”

Your teammates pushed you forward, yelling for you to take it in, pointing to the crowd like they wanted you to soak it all up.

You turned slowly in a circle, overwhelmed and dazed, eyes sweeping the crowd until they found her. Alexia. Front row. Hands cupped around her mouth as she yelled your name with a grin so proud it made your knees a little weak. Alba stood beside her, filming with one hand and fist-pumping with the other. And Eli was clapping slowly, steadily, nodding with that same calm intensity as before. Alexia winked. It hit you harder than the win.

The announcer’s voice boomed again, calling for both teams to line up for the trophy presentation.

As your team gathered near half court, arms around each other’s shoulders, a staff member handed you a fresh towel—then paused.

“You ready?” she asked, smiling like she knew you weren’t. You glanced toward the giant, glistening trophy sitting on the table at centre court.

“Not even close,” you said, smiling wide. “But let’s go get it anyway.”

And just like that, the moment you dreamed about became the one you’d never forget. You caught a glimpse of the crowd, Alexia standing, clapping proudly, her smile glowing. Alba beside her, already filming for her inevitable ‘accidentally viral’ post. And Eli was nodding. Firm. Respectful. A little impressed. And that—for some reason—meant everything.

The trophy gleamed in your hands—heavy, solid, real. Gold reflected off the arena lights as you raised it high above your head, your teammates screaming in unison around you. Medals clinked against chests, confetti stuck to sweat-soaked faces, and the sound of pure joy echoed from the stands to the rafters.

Liv and Maya were on either side of you, arms slung across your shoulders, laughing breathlessly as your names were still being chanted by the crowd.

“This is insane,” Liv shouted, eyes wide as she looked out at the thousands of fans waving flags and singing at full volume.

“I’m gonna cry,” Maya added, laughing even as she wiped her eyes. “This is actually happening.”

And then it began. A ripple of music swelled through the speakers—the unmistakable notes of Cant del Barça.

The team fell into a natural rhythm, arms thrown around each other’s shoulders in a tight circle. You, Liv, and Maya were pulled right into the middle of it.

“Tot el camp…” someone began, and suddenly the whole arena was singing.

Without hesitation, you joined in.

“És un clam, som la gent blaugrana…”

Maya blinked at you in disbelief. “Wait… you know the words?”

You grinned wide, eyes shining. “Of course I do. Im shocked you’ve been here longer and don’t”

Liv laughed, nudging you. “You sound like you were born here.”

“Tant se val d’on venim,” you sang louder, smile growing, voice blending perfectly with the team and the roaring crowd.

Alexia, standing a few feet away with, caught your eye. Her lips parted in surprise—clearly impressed—as she watched you sing every line flawlessly, your eyes alight with happiness, the lyrics rolling off your tongue like second nature.

She grinned, shaking her head fondly before joining in herself.

The chorus hit “Barça! Barça! Baaaaaarça!”and you threw your head back, singing it with your entire chest, arm around Liv as she jumped beside you, laughing uncontrollably.

In that moment, you weren’t just the MVP, the league winner, the historic name on the headlines. You were one of them. And judging by the fans’ reaction, the chants, and the flood of posts already exploding online with clips of you belting the anthem with the fan they saw it too.

You belonged. And you were only just getting started.

The noise faded as you stepped through the tunnel, leaving behind the roar of the crowd, the blinding lights, the chaos of cameras and champagne. On this side, the air was cooler, quieter. The echoes of celebration still rang faintly in the distance, but here, it was just... still.

And waiting in that stillness leaning against the concrete wall, eyes soft, arms folded across her chest, was Alexia. She looked up the second she heard your footsteps. No words yet. Just a slow smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth, something shining in her eyes that made your chest ache in the best way. You didn’t say anything either. You just walked toward her—and she met you halfway.

The hug wasn’t rushed, or dramatic. It was quiet, steady, grounding. Her arms wrapped around your waist, yours slid around her shoulders, and for a long, perfect moment, neither of you moved. You breathed her in, familiar, calming, solid, while the weight of everything you’d just achieved slowly settled into your body.

Alexia buried her face lightly into your neck, her voice low and full of something deep. “I’m so proud of you.” You closed your eyes at the words, arms tightening around her. You’d heard cheers all night, praise from teammates, coaches, even strangers. But this. This voice, this moment, meant more than all of it. “Seriously,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her hand cupped your cheek gently. “You made history out there.”

You smiled, heart thudding, unsure if it was from the game or just being near her like this. “We made it. Finally.”

“You didn’t just make it,” she said softly. “You led it. You held that team together. You earned every second of tonight.”

You looked at her, taking in her expression—the softness in her eyes, the slight crack in her voice—and something inside you melted. She smiled, brushing a piece of damp hair off your forehead. Alexia leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours. The noise of the world stayed outside. For now, it was just you, her, and the quiet celebration that didn’t need confetti or cameras. Just this. Just her. The women who you were meant to just be casually sleeping with for convenience.

You pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, your hands still resting on her hips, her fingers gently brushing your jaw. A beat passed between you—quiet, warm, intimate.

Then, with a crooked grin, you tilted your head slightly. “Is it weird that all of this… kinda made me horny?”

Alexia blinked, caught off guard for half a second—then laughed softly, biting her bottom lip as her eyes dropped to your mouth. “Wow,” she said, shaking her head, but clearly amused. “The trophy, the confetti, screaming fans, the historic win—and that’s your takeaway?”

You shrugged, unapologetic. “I mean, it’s not the only takeaway. But something about winning in front of thousands of people and then seeing you right after looking this good…” Your voice dipped, teasing. “Kinda does it for me.”

She chuckled, leaning in closer, her lips brushing just beside your ear now. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I just made club history,” you murmured, grinning. “Let me be a little unhinged.”

Alexia tilted her head, pretending to think. “You know,” she said slowly, fingers grazing the hem of your jersey, “you do look pretty good with a medal around your neck.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Her hand slipped around your waist again, pulling you a little closer.

You exhaled a quiet laugh, heartbeat picking up again—very differently this time. “Maybe I’ll let you fuck me wearing just.. that”

Alexia smirked, brushing her lips lightly against yours. “Oh, now theres an image I like the thought of.”

—

The hotel room still smelled faintly of champagne and adrenaline. You’d only just come down from the high of the post-match celebrations, your medal still draped loosely around your neck, damp hair towel-dried from a quick shower. The room was quiet, lights dimmed, your body finally beginning to crash after the chaos of the night.

You hadn’t even changed into proper sleepwear—just a hoodie and shorts, slouched on the edge of the bed, scrolling through the avalanche of mentions and videos online. Then came the knock. Three soft raps. Familiar. Tentative. You stood slowly, pulse already rising with something far too familiar to be nerves. You didn’t even check through the peephole—you knew.

You opened the door. And there she was. Alexia stood in the hallway of the team hotel, in an oversized coat thrown over something much more casual underneath—sweats, sneakers, and her hair up in a loose, messy bun. No cameras. No entourage. Just her. Just for you.

She didn’t say anything. Just looked at you, soft eyes meeting yours, lips slightly parted, like she’d been deciding whether to come all night—and finally did. “Hey,” you said gently, stepping aside.

“Hi,” she murmured, slipping inside, brushing past you with a faint brush of her fingers against yours. The door closed with a soft click behind her. You turned, and Alexia was already looking at you like she had in the tunnel—not with wild adrenaline or smirking sarcasm—but with that quiet intensity. The kind she never gave away lightly. “You sure you’re not too tired to entertain a visitor?” she asked playfully, stepping toward you.

You laughed under your breath. “I should be. But apparently, winning league titles gives me a second wind.”

She smiled, walking closer until her hands gently rested on your chest, fingers brushing the edge of your medal. “You were incredible tonight,” she whispered. “I mean it. Every second.”

You let her words settle, your hands resting at her waist. “You already told me that.”

“Didn’t feel finished,” she murmured, rising slightly to press a soft kiss to your lips. You melted into her instantly, the rest of the world dropping away for the hundredth time that night. The clamour of victory, the lights, the fans, all gone. Now it was just her. Alexia pulled back just slightly, voice lower now. “You still feel like celebrating?”

You grinned, heart thudding again, you stepped back, pulling her deeper into the room—and into a night that belonged to just the two of you.

—

The early morning light spilled through the cracks in the curtains, casting a soft golden hue across the hotel room. Alexia was still half-wrapped in your hoodie, barefoot, her hair slightly messy from the night, and her grin even messier. You peeked through the peephole of your hotel room door like a criminal. The hallway was quiet. No sign of teammates. No staff. No coach.

“Alright,” you whispered, turning back to her. “Now’s the time. Let’s go.”

Alexia laughed quietly, stepping toward the door but stopping just before it. “Wait.”

You blinked. “Wait? Now you want to wait?”

She leaned in, lifting her chin. “One more kiss.”

You gave her a look. “Seriously?” She just raised an eyebrow, and that look—that look—was unfair. You sighed, giving in instantly, cupping her face and kissing her slow, just once. You pulled back, breath brushing her lips. “There. Now—go.”

But she didn’t move. She bit her lip, then smirked. “Okay… one more.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing under your breath. “You’re trying to get me caught.”

She shrugged innocently. “Maybe just a little.” So you kissed her again—quick, soft—and reached for the door handle opening the door, a voice rang out from the hallway: “Well, well, well…”

You both froze. There they were: Liv and Maya, in their sweats and team-issued hoodies, coffee cups in hand, mid-laugh already.

Alexia immediately stepped back like a guilty teenager, hiding behind you, but it was too late. They’d seen something they shouldn’t.

“Is that Alexia Putellas sneaking out of your room at 7am?” Maya grinned, raising her eyebrows dramatically.

“I—uh—morning run?” you tried weakly.

Liv cackled. “Pretty sure the coach said no visitors. You literally lasted less than twelve hours.”

Alexia peeked out from behind you, clearly amused, totally unbothered. “I mean I have stamina but twelve hours is long even by my standard.” Alexia jolted her hand coming to her abs where the back of your hand had abruptly connected with seconds earlier,

“Oh my god, she’s not even trying to deny it,” Maya laughed, nearly dropping her coffee. “This is iconic.”

Liv leaned against the wall, smirking. “You breaking rules for friends now?”

You shook your head, already defeated. “No. Just—”

“Just sex, right?” Maya said with a wink. “Because casual definitely looks like this.”

Alexia looked at you, eyes twinkling. “They’re worse than my sister.”

You groaned. “Can we just... forget this happened?”

“Absolutely not,” Liv said, raising her cup. “This is going straight into team folklore.”

Alexia leaned up, gave you one last kiss on the cheek, and whispered, “Totally worth it,” as she squeezed your arse, before walking past Liv and Maya with the confidence of someone who knew she had nothing to be sorry for. She didn’t break any rules.

Maya watched her go, shaking her head. “You really are down bad.”

“Bite me” You grumbled

You were halfway through your breakfast—headphones in, hoodie up, trying to mind your business—when Liv dropped her phone onto the table in front of you with a dramatic thud.

“Have you seen this?”

You pulled out one earbud, glancing down. The screen was open to X and a photo already making the rounds. A blurry zoomed-in shot of none other than Alexia, leaving the team hotel in the early morning light, hoodie over her head, hand brushing her hair back, clearly trying not to be seen.

The timestamp - 6:42 AM. The caption - “👀 Alexia Putellas spotted leaving [Your Name]’s team hotel before sunrise… 👀🏀🔥”

And the comments were already unhinged:

“They’re DEFINITELY not just friends.” “Yo… she didn’t even try to sneak out low-key.” “Power couple move tbh.” “They win one title and suddenly it’s hotel hook-ups?! 😭”

You blinked. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Liv said, biting into her toast casually. “You’re trending again. Congrats.”

You didn’t even get the chance to respond before your phone buzzed—official team group chat.

Coach: “[Your Name], my office. Now.”

You sighed, slouching lower in your chair.

Ten minutes later, you sat across from your coach, arms folded, trying to look less guilty than you felt. Management was seated beside her, stone-faced. Coach didn't yell. That somehow made it worse. She just looked tired.

“Do you understand what kind of attention this brings to the club?”

You shifted. “It was just a picture. No one got hurt.”

“Not the point,” she said sharply, then took a breath. “We’re in the middle of the most pivotal stretch of the season. League is done, yes, but we still have three more trophies to play for. Do you know how fast distractions like this spiral?”

You frowned. “It’s my personal life.”

“And it stopped being just yours the moment you two became headline news,” the director added, tapping his pen. “You're not just a player. You’re the face of this run. This team has never been here before. We can't afford this kind of noise.”

You opened your mouth to push back—ready to argue that you’d performed, that you’d delivered when it mattered, that you deserved some breathing room.

But then Coach leaned forward, eyes steady. “No one is telling you to end anything. We’re telling you to lock in.Whatever you and Alexia are doing—it can’t come at the cost of this team.”

The weight of that landed harder than any tabloid headline.You looked down at your hands, jaw clenched. Finally, you nodded once. “Understood.”

Coach eased back in her seat, watching you carefully. “You’re too important to this team to throw focus away now. Get to the end of the season. Then kiss whoever you want whatever you want. Deal?”

A reluctant smile tugged at your mouth despite yourself. “Deal.” You walked out of the office ten minutes later, a bit humbler, a little quieter—but more focused than ever. Three more trophies. No more headlines. Well... not unless they were the kind you earned.

—

You were doing exactly what they told you to. You locked in.

Practices? Sharper than ever. Practices were clinical. Ruthless. 

Film study? Front row, taking notes.  

Weight room? First in, last out. 

Game prep? Obsessive.  

Sleep, eat, train, repeat.

No distractions. No headlines. No slips.

You became exactly what they wanted—an elite athlete tuned so tightly into the goal that nothing else mattered.

You showed up to every session, gave every ounce of energy, and when the cameras turned on, you smiled like everything was fine.

Every drill, every session, every media day—you showed up like your whole career depended on it. And in a way, it did. With the next trophy just around the corner, your focus had to be absolute. That’s what they wanted. What they expected.

So, you delivered.

But in the quiet moments—walking back to your hotel room, lying in bed after lights out, glancing at your phone during a water break—the guilt crept in.

Your texts with Alexia had turned into a one-sided scroll. Alexia’s messages still sat there—unread, unanswered.

Proud of you

How’s your body holding up

Did you land okay

Come over  

Saw your post. That pass was 🔥

Thinking of you. Even if you’re MIA.

Are you ghosting me or just training like you joined the military?

Don’t disappear on me

Say something.

You stared at those messages more times than you'd admit, thumb hovering over the keyboard, a dozen drafted replies never sent.You didn’t respond. . Not because you didn’t want to—but because you didn’t know how. Everything you’d been told lately echoed in your head: No distractions. Stay focused. Don’t lose the momentum.

 You weren’t ignoring her to be cruel. You were doing what they told you. What was best. Right? But then came the post. You didn’t see it until Liv threw her phone at you in the locker room.

“Your girl’s getting bold.” You raised an eyebrow, catching the phone mid-air, and read the tweet Alexia had just put up.

At first it looked like nothing. Just text. No tags. No media. But you—and everyone else—knew exactly what it meant.

@alexiaputellas: Even champions can fumble the ball.

One line. That was it. But it hit harder than any headline. The replies were instant. Explosive.

“Uhhh… 👀” “Wait is this about HER???” “Someone go check on [Your Name] 💀” “Alexia has entered her cryptic queen era and I’m LIVING.”

Your heart sank. Not from shame—but from the sharp realisation that she’d waited long enough. It wasn’t bitterness. It was disappointment. And that hurt worse. One line. That was it. But it hit harder than any headline. And suddenly, the silence you’d kept felt heavier than ever.

You sat in the breakfast room, shoulders tense, phone in your hand, staring down at the screen while the team buzzed around you. For a moment, you weren’t MVP, or a title-winning captain, or the locked-in professional they wanted. You were just a person who hadn’t replied to someone who mattered. The noise around you fading as your stomach twisted with guilt. You hadn’t just gone quiet. You’d erased her. That was never the deal. Your heart sank. Not from shame—but from the sharp realisation that she’d waited long enough.

It wasn’t bitterness. It was disappointment. And that hurt worse. You didn’t knock. You just stood outside Alexia’s apartment door, heartbeat thudding in your chest like it was trying to escape. Your hoodie was soaked through from the light rain outside, your jaw clenched, fingers flexing like they didn’t know what to do if they weren’t gripping a ball.

You’d barely had time to think on the walk over—just move, just get to her. Every step had been powered by regret, anxiety, and the echo of that tweet playing on a loop in your mind.

Finally, the door swung open. Alexia stood there, eyes wide, her expression shifting instantly from surprise to concern the moment she saw you. You didn’t say anything at first. You just stood there—dripping, exhausted, chest tight. “Hey,” she said softly, stepping aside. “Come in.” You nodded silently and walked past her, into the familiar warmth of her apartment. She closed the door behind you, and when she turned, her voice was even gentler. “You okay?”

You exhaled, a laugh escaping—dry, bitter, exhausted. “No.”

Alexia didn’t press. She waited, arms crossed loosely, giving you space even as her eyes searched your face.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” you said, voice raw. “I thought I was doing the right thing—shutting out the noise, focusing on the games. Everyone’s in my ear. The coaches. The media. Management. It’s like… if I breathe wrong, I ruin everything.”

Alexia’s expression softened, and she moved closer, slow, like she didn’t want to spook you.

“I’m under so much pressure, Alexia,” you admitted, finally letting it out. “Not just to win, but to be the one who wins it for everyone. Like if I slip, I don’t just let down the team, I let down history, the whole damn fucking city. And I didn’t know how to balance that with you. And I hate that I let that get in my head.”

Your voice cracked slightly, and your hands went to your temples like you could press the stress out of your skull. Alexia stepped closer, reaching out, her hands lightly resting on your forearms. “You don’t have to do it all alone.”

“I thought I had to.”

“You don’t,” she said firmly, stepping in until you could feel the warmth of her body against yours. “You never did.”

You looked down at her, eyes stinging. “I just didn’t want to mess up the one thing that actually feels good in the middle of all this.”

Alexia reached up, brushing her fingers gently along your jaw. “You didn’t mess up. You've got a lot of pressure. I get it. But you can’t shut me out just because things get heavy. That’s when I’m supposed to be there, i'm your friend remember”

You exhaled, the tension finally cracking in your chest as your forehead dropped to hers. Her hands slipped around your waist, holding you close. You wrapped your arms around her fully now, holding her like an anchor. And for the first time in weeks, you let yourself breathe. “I didn’t mean to push you away,” you said, voice raw. “I thought I was doing the right thing—shutting out the noise, focusing on the games. Everyone’s in my ear. The coaches. The media. Management. It’s like… if I breathe wrong, I ruin everything.”

Alexia didn’t say anything. She just stepped aside, gently took your soaked hoodie from your shoulders, and hung it near the door. Then, without a word, she moved into the kitchen and started opening cabinets.

You stood in the middle of her living room, soaked through, heart pounding, frustration still knotted tight in your chest. “I feel like I’m carrying this weight I didn’t ask for. Like I don’t get to have an off day, or complain, or even feel tired without someone saying I’ve lost focus.”

The sound of a pan setting on the stovetop echoed softly.

“I can’t win without it being picked apart. If I do well, it’s expected. If I struggle, it’s headlines. And I keep thinking, what happens if I mess this up? What happens if I’m not enough?”

Alexia silently placed slices of bread into the toaster, then started cracking eggs into a bowl.

“I'll be like Cersi Lannister in game of thrones paraded through the streets naked whilst they shout shame at me” you continued, pacing slowly as the words spilled.

You missed the smirk on Alexia's lips as she was routing in her fridge, "Dramatic as always Eleven" she muttered to herself, "Although a good view would be had" she mused your naked body flicking into her mind. Meanwhile you were still obliviously ranting in her living room, Alexia was listening, she promised.

“I didn’t mean to shut you out, I just didn’t want to bring all that weight to your doorstep. You didn’t sign up for this chaos. You signed up for a friend and sex, you have your own chaos to deal with, you might need to tell me how you remain so chill by the way because I’m freaking out”

The scent of butter hitting a warm pan filled the room. She was making something simple—comforting. Familiar. She still hadn’t said anything to you directly, but her actions were louder than any words.

“I thought if I just kept my head down, I could carry it all. But it’s too much sometimes. And I didn’t know how to say that without sounding weak.”

You finally stopped pacing, rubbing your hands over your face. Alexia turned slightly from the stove, her eyes meeting yours, soft but steady. “So you decided to say nothing at all.”

It wasn’t judgment—it was truth. And it hit hard, but clean. You nodded slowly. “Yeah. I did.”

She turned back to the stove, flipping the eggs, then quietly said, “Sit down. Eat.”

So you did. You sat at her kitchen island while she finished making two plates—eggs, toast, a little grated cheese on top, perfectly familiar. She slid one plate in front of you, then sat beside you without another word.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was safe. And somehow, just watching her move around the kitchen—barefoot, focused, unbothered by your storm—was enough to remind you: you didn’t have to carry everything alone.

Not here.

Not with her.

—

You got back to your apartment late, all attention on the end goal—training had run long again. The gym lights had dimmed hours ago, and your body ached in all the usual places, the good kind of sore. The we’re chasing something big kind.

You stepped off the elevator, towel slung over your neck, earbuds still in, head down and distracted as you scrolled through team messages. But something made you pause just before your hotel room door.

You looked up.

There, hanging from your door handle, was a small beaded bracelet alternating red and blue. Two singular white ones in the middle. The number 1 on each.

You blinked, pulled it gently off the handle, turning it over in your hand. A friendship bracelet? Your chest tightened as you smiled slowly, already knowing exactly who it was from. You looked around the hallway, even though you knew she was long gone by now. She’d probably left it and ghosted the floor like some sort of stealthy bracelet bandit.

Tied to it was a tiny folded piece of paper, barely the size of your palm.

You opened it.

Now it’s official. Your best friend (and more, depending on the day)

You exhaled a quiet laugh, heart full, cheeks aching from smiling so suddenly. You turned the bracelet over once more, then slipped it onto your wrist, tying it securely.

Not flashy. Not dramatic. Just hers.

And somehow, that meant more than anything anyone had said to you all week. You grabbed your keycard, stepped into your room, and texted her right away.

You: Best friend status confirmed. I expect a new one every time we win something.

The typing bubble popped up almost instantly.

Alexia: Then I better start making more.

You stared at the bracelet, twisting it around your wrist, still smiling to yourself in the quiet. Some victories weren’t loud. Some weren’t even on the court. This one stayed wrapped around your wrist—constant, soft, and exactly what you needed.

— 

You hadn’t even noticed it. The cameras caught you in the tunnel before the league game, you won with games to spare. You were just tying your shoes, focused, locked in, nodding along to your pregame playlist, sweat already dotting your brow.

But someone zoomed in. And the internet never missed a thing. By halftime, it was everywhere.

A close-up shot—your wrist, resting casually on your knee, bracelet fully visible. Beads in the unmistakable red and blue of Barça.  

And two small white beads—each stamped with the number 1.

The tweets came in like a storm:

“Wait a minute… is that [Your Name] wearing a Barca-coloured friendship bracelet??? Who gave her that?!”

“The two 1s… is that #11 for her or #11 for Alexia… or both??”

“Not to be delulu but are we witnessing a secret code???”

“Y’all it’s giving soulmates and I’m spiralling.”

Some fans pulled other photos, circling the bracelet from different angles.

Others started dissecting the numbers.

“Alexia wears 11. [Your Name] wears 11. Two 1s = 11. Come on.”

“It’s literally Barça colours AND 11. They’re not even being subtle anymore.”

“If Alexia shows up wearing one, I’m dead!💀”

It wasn’t long before fan edits flooded social media—clips of you both in your respective kits, side-by-side photos, a slowed-down montage of that walk by from the tunnel after the game that felt like years ago, and now… the bracelet.

Meanwhile, you sat in the team meeting, scrolling with one eyebrow raised, Liv glancing over your shoulder.

She smirked. “You seeing this?”

You sighed, not even annoyed—just amused. “They’ve gone full detective mode.”

“Can you blame them? You did show up in custom-coded jewellery on camera.”

You looked down at your wrist, where the bracelet rested against your skin, those twin 1s catching the light. It made you smile—more than you meant to.

You pulled out your phone and took a photo of it, sending it directly to Alexia.

You: Are they right? Do you have one to?

A minute later:

Alexia: No

You: The number thing is driving them insane.

Alexia: Let them wonder. We know what it means.

You twisted the bracelet around your wrist again and leaned back in your seat, smirking. Let the internet spiral. Let the cameras zoom in.  You were still focused on the games ahead—but now, the fire in your chest had a different kind of fuel.

Your lucky bracelet was doing its job. And maybe, just maybe… it was doing more than that.

—

Your flight to Milan was early—stupid early—but you couldn’t leave without seeing her.

You barely slept anyway, brain too wired from training, nerves for the semifinal starting to churn in your gut. So when the clock blinked 4:43 a.m., you grabbed your duffel and made your way to Alexia’s apartment, hoodie over your head, sneakers barely tied.

She buzzed you in without a word.

You stepped inside, quiet and slow, trying not to think about the fact that in a few hours, you’d be boarding a plane with your team to fight for your next title. But that pressure melted the moment you saw her.

She walked into the living room rubbing sleep from her eyes, dressed in only a pair of loose Barça training shorts and a black sports bra. Her hair was messy, falling around her face in the way that made her look dangerously good without even trying. You stood there for a second too long—just looking.

She caught your stare immediately, one eyebrow lifting, lips curving slightly. “You’re looking at me like you forgot how this works.”

You dropped your bag by the door. “I didn’t forget. That’s the problem.”

Alexia padded over to you, bare feet silent on the hardwood, and stood close—closer than you needed her to. “Thought you were trying to stay focused.”

“I am focused,” you said, voice lower now, eyes flicking down her body and back up. “Just... not on Milan at the moment.”

She smirked, resting her hands lightly on your hips. “You’ve got a few hours.”

“That’s all I need.”

She leaned in, her lips brushing against your jaw as she whispered, “Then shut up and take what you came for.”

You didn’t need a second invitation. Your hands gripped her waist, pulling her in as your mouth found hers, hungry and immediate. She kissed you back with the same intensity—like she needed you just as much as you needed her. Like this was how you breathed. You walked her backward through the apartment, her body pressed against yours, warmth and want radiating between you. When the backs of her knees hit the couch, you didn’t stop—you let her fall into it, following her down, fingers already slipping under the waistband of her shorts.

Whatever came next in Paris could wait. Right now, it was just her. Her skin. Her mouth. The soft gasp she gave when your lips found her collarbone. The way her nails dug into your back, grounding you and pulling you deeper all at once. This wasn’t a distraction. This was you—fuelled, centred, alive. By the time you finally lay tangled together on the couch, breathing hard, fingers still laced, the sun had started to rise through the blinds.

Alexia turned her head slightly, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “Go win in Milan.”

You smiled, lips brushing her temple. “I’ll win for you.”

“Good,” she whispered. “But just so you know... I’m still your lucky charm.”

Your fingers brushed over the bracelet on your wrist. “Yeah,” you murmured. “You really are.”

[artsyannierose]

Do you think it’s in-character for Sonic to like Amy back? I’m curious because some may think it’s not. I’d love to know your thoughts!

HELLO ANON IM GLAD YOU ASKED I HAVE AN EXCUSE TO RANT ABOUT SONIC’S CHARACTER BC I LOVE HIM A LOT AND I FEEL LIKE NO ONE REALLY WANTS TO THINK ABOUT HIM ON HIS OWN!!

short answer: absolutely BUT whether it’s in-character depends on the way his feelings are portrayed.

long answer: Have you ever wondered why everyone has their own personal love language? In this essay I will-

anyway

let’s take a step back and just overview sonic’s character a little bit:

(amy got him those…btw…)

Essentially, at his core, Sonic is a character who values his freedom and the freedom of others at his very core. His main drive to keep moving is motivated by his love for adventure and that thrill of adventure. Romance is never and will never be his top priority, it’ll always be adventure, so y’all gotta understand that first. But his friends come to a close second.

And that’s where the line between romance and friendship starts to blur a little bit. What do I mean by that?

Well let’s look at his relationship with Amy purely as a platonic relationship: Sonic and Amy are the best of friends.

Argue with the wall if you don’t agree idgaf

They hang out quite a bit more than Sonic does with other characters, and Amy is the closest non-sibling relationship that Sonic has. Tails is his little brother; yes they’re close and yes they hang out a lot, but again it’s a very sibling-like bond. That’s not necessarily a bad thing and I’m not dismissing it—I really, REALLY appreciate Tails and Sonic’s relationship. It’s very cute and a very mutual thing in my opinion. A lot of people might say that Sonic only inspires Tails while Tails provides gadgets and brainpower for Sonic, but that’s just not true. FOR ONE SONIC’S CANON IQ LEVEL IS LIKE 178 IF IIRC HE’S SMART GUYS. HE DOES NOT NEED TAILS TO BE HIS BRAIN. HE MADE HIS OWN FRICKING PLANE. But Tails is the person he can always rely on and pretty much talk to about anything. PRETTY much. But there’s also that small underlying role model that Sonic should be for Tails to some extent, because he is Tails’ older brother.

Knuckles is #2 out of Sonic’s closest friends, and his main role is being a rival/challenge to sonic without being a threat to him. They’re still extremely close friends who would die for each other after all. They bicker and Sonic does love to tease knuckles quite a bit since knux is so quick to get angry. But they still respect each other and know that they can rely on each other. Also lowkey they’re kinda the not-so-friendly homie relationship; if tails and sonic are wholesome homies, knux and sonic are the “we beat each other up /aff” homies

and then we have Amy. Sonic’s closest female friend. genuinely argue with the wall if you can’t see that. SONIC DOES NOT HATE AMY HE VALUES HER AS A FRIEND AND CLOSE COMRADE sorry i hate people who say sonic can’t stand amy are you guys THAT media illiterate

So Amy is the closest thing that Sonic has to a friend who is a complete equal to Sonic, and let me explain why I say that AMY is his equal, and not someone like Metal Sonic or Shadow.

First off, Amy is not in any way a rival to Sonic. Sure she’s been paired against him multiple times in Team Sonic vs Team Rose, but it���s all on friendly terms and sillies. Second, she’s the one of the ONLY character who shares the exact same thirst for adventure that Sonic does. Heck i’m pretty sure one of her opening lines in Sonic Adventure was something along the lines of “it’s so boring when Sonic’s not around.” She doesn‘t care much for a normal, mundane lifestyle anymore than Sonic does. yes she’s a little more grounded than Sonic is in general and likes doing stationary things like baking and gardening, but she still gets bored easily. Her idea of fun can consist of picking flowers or decimating badniks (i love her sm)

Lastly there’s no strings attached to her love for Sonic, she just loves him for who he is and who he inspires her to be. Her favorite thing about him is his free spirit, which heaven forbid she ever tie down. The second she expressed that to Sonic, he was IMMEDIATELY became much more comfortable around her, because he understood where she was coming from and what her true intentions were. After that he started hanging out with her way more often and he was also really comfortable with her in general (i’m talking specifically about the idw comics here). He can talk to her about just about any problem because she understands; she’s been with him much longer than most others. Bro she was introduced before Knuckles, technically speaking…and she’s gone through the same experiences and adventures that he has. The only thing that Tails has different from Amy in terms of being able to talk about problems is that in the past I feel like Sonic has wanted to protect Tails from certain things (though this seems to have changed in Frontiers with Tails’ whole thing being more independent and growing up) but he really doesn’t have to do that with Amy because he doesn’t have the same older sibling urges if ykwim.

tldr: amy’s sonic’s bestie that is most like him who’s also on equal footing with him

(rip tails in the bg)

Okay then, now let’s talk rOmAnCE

Sonic’s history in the romance department has been….messy to say the least. Always baffles me because Amy has been right there the whole time…

And it seems to me that each time Sonic is depicted in a steady, strong relationship, at least some part of his core character is sacrificed for that. I feel like this is especially evident in the Archie Comics, like, you mean to tell me Sonic willingly accepts becoming king and staying tied to a kingdom?? Like that’s not inherently wrong but that’s definitely not game Sonic—that is Archie Sonic AND THATS FINE. its just a different iteration of Sonic, like how movie Sonic is drastically different from game Sonic

yeah this?? i hate this. a lot. why was he such a ladies’ man in the pre-reboot archie comics 😭 ALSO DONT TELL HIM TO SLOW DOWN STOP THAT

DONT KILL ME HANG ON, I ACTUALLY LIKE REBOOT SONALLY. I THINK ITS VERY CUTE

this? this is adorable and feels like sonic⬆️

this?? sorry i cant take it seriously

im not talking about sonelise tyvm

And that’s why I don’t even like the idea of sonic really settling down with amy perse idk if that’s a hot take 🫣

he needs someone who’s willing to basically either drop everything and travel wherever he goes or be willing to tag along whenever needed even if they’re busy, and amy does that pretty well

Amy doesn’t mind following Sonic to the ends of the earth and to hell and back if needed. which sonic team knew exactly what they were doing crafting her character to fit sonic’s its literally a match made in heaven aksjfnhehgfrlsfnegraojvr

Anyways’s the big question:

Is it in character for Sonic to like Amy?

Well why don’t we look at a few examples where his feelings are either strongly hinted at or outright shown

Ima start with Frontiers cause it’s the most recent mainline content we have

I hope we all know about the (scrapped?) open-world voicelines…

”Wish we were sharing an umbrella Amy…”

…sir?? sonic?? sonic the hedgehog?????? WOULD YOU LIKE TO REPEAT THAT-

sonic is originally japanese. sharing an umbrella in japan means you’re a couple. i rest my case.

I REST MY CASE

do i. even have to elaborate.

thanks sonic for being so dense for 3 decades😒

so essentially that indicates that he HAS made up his mind now? and it’s pretty obvious as to what considering the way he treated her pretty much the entirety of Frontiers

mostly the thing with frontiers sonic is that all of this is to himeslf, like a soliloquy…more on that in a sec

~

We could talk about the IDW comics but most of that is a little too subtle for me to call really “returning the feelings” and im lowkey too lazy to go find the panels im thinking of so maybe i’ll do that some other time

however i’ll just leave this:

casual familiarity how i adore you (HE JUST GRABS HER NO SECOND THOUGHTS IM CRYING)

~

you think i was gonna make a long essay post on sonamy and not talk about sonic x?? did you?? DID YA???

*explodes*

HOW IS IT THAT THIS WAS LIKE IN 2003 AND WE STILL HAVENT GOTTEN A BETTER SONAMY MOMENT THAN THIS ITS TRULY TIMELESS…

BIG INHALE OKAY SO i think the major takeaways from this are

This is a private moment

Amy matters a LOT to Sonic

Sonic’s not one for words but rather actions

One, yeah, this is something that is special to Amy and Sonic, to the point where even the audience doesn’t know what he said to her because its muted (stellar choice in my opinion because it adds a lot more weight to them) but its pretty obvious that he either said “Aishiteru, Emi” or “Daisuki, Emi”, both of which mean “i love you Amy” on a pretty deep level. But the point is that its between them and between them only. Even later in season 3 when Amy talks about it, she’s deliberately cut off before she can repeat what Sonic said to her that day. Obviously this isn’t supposed to be public knowledge

Two, the context is that Sonic has literally been stuck on another planet for quite some time, and most people either gave up on him ever returning or thought he was dead. But not Amy. And guess what? The first place he goes to—he literally BEELINES there as Super Sonic—is straight to Amy’s house. He wanted to see her first and likely reassure him that he was okay because he knew that she’d be worried sick. Also I think he just missed her in general…

Three, he knows what a white (or lavender idc) rose means and deliberately chose that flower to give to her upon his return. And again with the muted words, his actions speak louder to us as an audience than a simple “i looooove you amyyy” and this is generally a common theme with Sonic, especially in Sonic X (probably the most accurate representation of Sonic outside the games).

btw this can be taken as platonic but man do i want to yap about it:

amy KNOWS sonic can’t swim and even in her barely conscious state she tells him to basically leave her for dead. HIS SAFETY IS STILL HER TOP PRIORITY. but does sonic listen? nahhh. there were literally hundreds of other people perfectly capable of rescuing amy but noooo he went in and dove after her because HIS top priority was HER safety

again, actions speak louder than words

also the whole thing how he didn’t just restring the bracelet she made him, no, her tied a new string to the original ones and went and got more shells?? that are found next to his biggest fear??? yeah that speaks volumes about how much he treasures that lil gift of hers

lastly its kind of small but i really appreciate how he just lets her hug him and reciprocates too? it’s very adorable

so more sonamy huggies for the soul <3

THE “AMES” GET ME EVERYTIME AAAAAAAAAAA

and actually sonic doesn’t really do physical intimacy that isn’t teasing, like remember when TAILS’ GIRLFRIEND JUST D I E D AND HE DIDNT HUG HIM (i have a bone to pick with sonic here)..

idk sonic is generally a not very emotional character; he can’t cry, he doesn’t get angry, he can’t blush, all these mandates indicating he keeps his emotions to himself

the largest range of emotions we see in sonic are whenever he’s with amy; confusion, fear, embarassment, flusteredness, etc.

~

most other iterations of sonic are some sort of au or canon divergent so i wont talk about those buuut lmk if i missed something im sure i did

SO. IN CONCLUSION.

what have we learned? (i sound like a teacher)

Sonic values freedom over everything

amy doesn’t want to take away Sonic’s freedom, she wants to join him

Sonic doesn’t mind Amy’s affection as long as she’s not overwhelming

sonic is pretty private when it comes to his feelings or intimate moments with amy or anything else really

and i have one final thing that i want to bring up to drive my point home that some people may not take as canon but hey it exists

well there you go! that’s sonic’s characterization. yes he likes amy but isn’t showy about it. that’s essentially what i’ve been building up to.

he’s not gonna go yell to the world that he loves his girlfriend sososososo much but like in private? hell yeah (though rn its more like they both know that amy loves sonic, duh, but they also both know that sonic likes amy and they’re just chilling with it, not quite dating but two friends that know they like each other)

And me personally? i like to see them as top notch battle couple with an hair tearing amount of romantic tension lol cause yeah thats my jammm

oh and then theres boom sonamy with the most amount of sexual tension ive ever seen between cartoon hedgehogs

So to answer your question directly: yes it’s in character for sonic to like amy as long as it’s mostly a private thing between him and her <3

my lang teacher wishes i could write with this much passion on my argumentative essays

ok bye thanks for coming to my ted talk have an absopositively splenderrific day 🙈

[ennkis]

enemies to lovers w kenan??🙏🙏

EYE TO EYE (kenan yildiz x reader)

summary : in which y/n and a certain turkish-german football player dont see eye to eye

face claim : no one exact

notes : thank you for the request !! hope its like you wanted :3

pairings : kenan yildiz x reader , childhood "enemies"

Ever since you can remember, Kenan has been a constant presence in your life. From childhood, you two never saw eye to eye. He was always around, whether it was a family dinner, a holiday gathering, or a neighborhood barbecue. The day your families became intertwined marked the start of what seemed like the ideal love story—the boy and girl next door. But reality was far from that.

As your families grew closer, it seemed like opposites attracted for them. Kenan was considered the typical jock: charismatic, popular, always surrounded by friends, and stereotypically, a football player. You, on the other hand, were far more reserved but possessed a strangely attractive confidence.

Kenan always challenged you. As the years passed, your dynamic didn't change. Your parents wanted you to be friends, but neither of you made the effort. Despite your parents' close friendship and frequent attempts to foster a bond between you, neither cared enough.

As you both grew older, the dynamics shifted subtly. The teasing evolved into playful banter, and the challenges turned into a mutual respect for each other's strengths. Yet, beneath the surface, there was an unspoken understanding that perhaps there was more to your relationship than met the eye.

"Y/n, the Yildiz family invited us for a get-together. Make sure you're on your best behavior," your mother said. You never really understood it; it wasn't you who made a huge deal out of your petty arguments. Hell, it wasn't even you who started the arguments. But it was never Kenan who got scolded; no, he was too perfect for that, wasn't he?

"And please, no more fighting. The last barbecue was more than enough." Ah, yes, the last barbecue—it ended with a small fire and a broken ankle. Obviously, it was my ankle; his football career would be in shambles if he broke his ankle during a friends and family event. But it wasn't my fault; he brought up the famous debate of who's the GOAT of Formula 1. I mean, you're literally German, what do you mean you don't think Schumi is the GOAT? The debate was supposed to be settled by a friendly game of pingpong, but it didn't end so friendly. What was I supposed to do, not dodge the racket he THREW at me? In my humble opinion, my actions were more than justified.

As my mom knocked on their front door, we were greeted by Engin, Kenan's father. Their house was cozy, shared between the parents and three boys. Every time we went over, the atmosphere was welcoming.

Kenan stood at the doorway, a sheepish grin on his face as he welcomed us inside. "Hey, Y/n," he greeted me, his tone surprisingly friendly despite our history.

"Hey," I replied, trying to mask the uneasy feeling his presence always seemed to stir in me. His eyes held some sort of amusement, as if he could sense my discomfort. I walked past to enter the familiar space of their kitchen connected to the backyard entrance.

Engin ushered us towards the backyard where the rest of the family and a few guests were gathered around the barbecue grill. Kenan's brothers were playing football in the yard, their laughter blending with the hum of conversation.

"Hope you're hungry," Engin chuckled, flipping a burger on the grill. "We've got plenty to go around."

Kenan slid next to me as we walked to the table, his voice low. "So, how's life?" he asked with genuine interest.

I hesitated for a moment, surprised by his sudden sincerity. "Um, it's been alright," I replied cautiously. "Busy with school and all."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I get that. Are you still into that video editing thing you were doing last summer?"

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise that he remembered. "Yeah, actually. I've gotten some offers from certain companies."

"That's really cool," he said with a nod, a hint of admiration in his voice.

We reached the table where the food was laid out, and Kenan held out a plate for me to take first. I couldn't help but notice the small gesture of consideration, a far cry from our usual banter or tense interactions.

"Thanks," I said quietly, feeling a flicker of warmth towards him that I hadn't expected. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Kenan than the cocky football player I always assumed him to be.

As the evening went on, the atmosphere at the barbecue shifted from tentative civility to a surprising ease between Kenan and Y/n. Engin's expert grilling skills were matched by his knack for storytelling, keeping everyone entertained with humorous anecdotes from his youth. The smell of grilled meat filled the air, mingling with laughter and the occasional cheer from the ongoing soccer match in the yard.

Kenan and Y/n found themselves drawn into a playful banter over who could stack their burger higher with toppings, each trying to outdo the other with combinations that ranged from classic to unconventional. It became a mini competition, with Kenan daring Y/n to try his "ultimate burger creation" while she countered with her own daring concoction of flavors.

"You're seriously putting pineapple and jalapenos together?" Kenan raised an eyebrow, eyeing Y/n's bold choice of toppings skeptically.

"Why not?" Y/n grinned mischievously, carefully balancing the overflowing tower of burger ingredients. "It's a winning combo."

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief as he expertly flipped another burger on the grill. "Alright, I'll admit, you've got guts. Let's see if it actually tastes as good as it looks."

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the backyard, Kenan's brothers approached with mischievous grins on their faces. "Hey, Kenan! Y/n! How about a friendly game of football?" they called out enthusiastically, kicking a soccer ball playfully towards them.

Kenan glanced at Y/n with a raised eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You guys sure you want to challenge us? You might regret it," he teased, his competitive spirit already rising to the surface.

Y/n chuckled, feeling a surprising rush of excitement at the prospect of playing alongside Kenan instead of against him for once. "Bring it on, boys," she replied confidently, flashing a grin that mirrored Kenan's.

With a nod from Kenan, they divided into teams—Kenan and Y/n against his brothers. The game started with playful banter and competitive energy, but something shifted as they played. Kenan's skill on the field was undeniable, his passes precise and his movements fluid. Y/n found herself naturally falling into sync with him, their teamwork surprisingly effortless.

They communicated with quick glances and nods, strategizing on the fly and covering each other's positions seamlessly. Kenan's brothers put up a good fight, but Kenan and Y/n's teamwork proved to be a formidable force.

"Nice pass!" Kenan called out as Y/n dribbled past Eren with skillful footwork, earning an approving nod from him.

"You're pretty good at football, Kenan. You should consider becoming a professional," Y/n joked with a playful smirk.

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head modestly. "I don't know about that. I'd probably miss all the glamour of backyard games like this."

"Get a room, lovebirds," His brothers teased from the sidelines, a mischievous grin on their face.

Y/n rolled her eyes, playfully nudging Kenan. "Ignore him. They're just jealous that we make a better team than they do."

The game continued with laughter, cheers, and occasional playful taunts exchanged between teams. As the friendly competition progressed, Kenan and you found themselves enjoying each other's company in a way they hadn't before. The usual tension and rivalry gave way to shared goals and a shared sense of accomplishment each time they scored or defended together.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky and the game wound down, The brothers conceded defeat with good humor, congratulating Kenan and Y/n on their victory.

"You guys were awesome!" Kenans brother exclaimed, grinning broadly as he bumped fists with Kenan and Y/n. "We'll have to challenge you again sometime."

Kenan chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Anytime, little bro. Just be prepared to lose again," he teased playfully.

As they gathered their breath and laughter echoed in the cooling evening air, Y/n couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of camaraderie with Kenan. Working together had brought out a side of him she hadn't seen before—the focused, determined athlete who also knew how to have fun and appreciate teamwork.

"Thanks for the game, Y/n," Kenan said quietly, his tone sincere as he glanced at her with a soft smile.

You nodded, feeling a smile tug at your lips in response. "Likewise, Kenan. It was... refreshing," she admitted, surprising herself with the honesty of her words.

As they shared a meaningful smile, the evening continued with laughter, shared stories, and the hope for more moments like this—where they weren't basically on the verge of killing eachother, but actual friends, if not more.

im sorry this kinda doesnt have plot and sounds kinda npc but erm ! ignore that plz