#I NEVER NOTICED IT BEFORE BUT I ALWAYS SEEM TO COME BACK TO IT

[flofaiiry]

how jack abbot shows love

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ told through the five love languages ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

warnings: written somewhat informally (some uses of “i think that…” etc), fem!reader, sort of implied but not specified age gap, in the physical touch section there's oral f!receiving & other sort of smutty details also praise (good girl etc) and a hint of oral m!receiving in the words of affirmation i couldn't help myself, everything else is just fluff!!!

wc: 2.2k

note: wanted to write some cute fluff to try and get outta this mini slump bcs i have been hitting a WALL when trying to write smut lately. i'm not sure if this has been done before but i thought it was a cute idea!!! dividers are by @ diviniyae !! also sorry if some of these are shorter than others :(( send me an ask if there's anything u want me to elaborate on & i'll try my best !!!

♡ acts of service

if you work together jack always comes down from the coffee shop in the cafeteria with two cups in hand. he memorized your order after the first time he heard you say it so he likes to make sure you've always got one at the start of the shift.

jack knows how much you love to cook but hate cleaning afterwards, so he'll slip into the kitchen while you're working & wash the dishes you've used. you always say something along the lines of, "it's okay, i can do it after," but he just shakes his head and says it's only fair that if you cook he does the cleaning.

he fixes things around the house, buys more of the moisturizer you use when he notices you're running low, replaces things you've lost etc etc. what's most important to note is that he never draws attention to the fact that he's done these things. he knows you'll notice, and doesn't feel the need to make it about him and make it seem like he wants something in return.

has breakfast started and coffee in the pot before you wake up & sometimes even brings it to you in bed if he's feeling extra fancy. if you're sick you don't even have to say the word, he's taken everything off your plate and will be there for you however you need him.

"i don't think i can go to work today," you say, voice weak and exhausted. jack has to bite back a smile at how extremely congested you sound. he strokes a hand over your hair, "i know baby. i already called your work 'n told them you wouldn't be coming today." you look at him with a little bit of disbelief in your eyes, "i can't believe they were okay with that." he shrugs, "they weren't. not at first. told them it was doctor's orders, just didn't specify the doctor was your boyfriend." you smile and shake your head a little bit, "i can't believe you." he just leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, "go back to sleep."

he remembers what songs & artists you like and has added them to his playlists so that they come on when he's driving. he loves the look on your face when you recognize the song after a single beat & are amazed at how he knows it's your favourite.

jack has no problem taking on a little extra if he can see that you're worn out or just extra tired lately, if he can take something off your plate & make the day easier for you then he does it, no questions asked- he knows you'd do the same for him if he needed.

♡︎ gift giving

jack is the epitome of a "this reminded me of you so i got it," boyfriend.

out getting groceries and sees a bouquet of flowers that are exactly the same shade as the colour you chose for your nails? they're coming home with him. new local vendor in the lobby at the hospital & they've got all kinds of trinkets he knows you'd love? he's taking out his wallet.

he sees you scrolling on pinterest or tiktok before bed, he notices the videos and images you linger a little longer on & save for later. if there's something you've been eyeing but hesitating on buying- a box shaped suspiciously like that item appears on the kitchen table a few days later.

you make a joke once and call him your sugar daddy or something, he just shrugs and tells you if it makes you happy then he wants you to have it. he doesn't necessarily buy you things to "spoil you," you can afford to buy the things he gets you for yourself, but you often hesitate to spend money on yourself. jack notices, and he hates that you think you aren't deserving of that sort of thing so he takes it upon himself to show you that you are.

and circling back to the bouquet thing- he 100% makes sure you have fresh flowers on the table all the time. it doesn't matter if you've been together for 3 weeks or 3 years, this man will bring you flowers before a date.

if there's something you collect, whatever it may be - cds, vinyls, charms - literally anything, if he's out somewhere and sees them or a specific one you've been looking for he gets it.

"didn't take you as a charm bracelet kinda guy," robby teases coming up beside jack and looking over his shoulder. jack just shakes his head, eyes scanning through the vendor's display, "it's not for me." robby smiles, "ah," he mouths, "for the lady?" jack nods, "she's got a whole box full 'a these things, but somehow no butterflies," his eyes stop on one charm, he picks it up slowly, before showing it to robby, "so i'm getting her the butterfly."

jack never forgets things like your birthday or anniversary. he doesn't need to have them marked down on a calendar or in his phone, he just remembers. for these bigger moments, the gift he gets you is obviously more significant. not to be cliche, but one of his favourite gifts to give you for the occasion is jewelry. probably half of your collection is stuff he's gifted you over the course of your relationship.

he remembers if you're a silver or gold girlie, if you've mentioned liking studs or dangly earrings more, if you like dainty chains on necklaces or more chunky ones. he remembers all of it. so when he goes to the store he tells the associate all this, who then brings out a few pieces they think emulate that the best. he loves the idea of you thinking about him whenever you decide what to put on in the morning, or that when people ask where something's from you'll say, "my boyfriend got it for me."

♡ physical touch

jack loves! to! be! touching! you!!!!! he's constantly got his fingers laced through yours when you're walking together or just near each other. when he's driving, he's got a hand on your thigh. he definitely does the hand on the lower back thing whenever he's guiding you somewhere or you're in a crowded place. he just always wants you to know he's there.

he can tell when you've had a long day at work & will wordlessly come over to you and just let you bury your head in his chest, running his hands up and down your back soothingly and kissing the top of your head. he lets you cry if you need to cry, not saying anything until you're ready & just holding you in the meantime.

he loves loves LOVES when you lie down on the couch with your head in his lap so he can run his fingers through your hair. he finds it so calming & grounding & cute that you fall asleep almost every time he does it.

jack kisses you like the answers to all the worlds problems can be found on your lips. he's more than happy to kiss you all night long and never escalate it into anything more. it's not uncommon for you to just lie side by side in bed, lips moving in perfect tandem, legs all tangled up and hands all over each other.

in bed, jack is a very giving lover. sure, he likes sex, who doesn't, but nothing gets him off more than seeing you feel good and knowing he's the one making you feel that way. his favourite place to be is with his head buried between your legs, fingers working you through your nth orgasm of the night with your hands tugging at his hair because it just feels too good.

all you can see is jack's salt and pepper curls peeking out from between your thighs. he’s already make you cum once but that’s not enough for him. his tongue’s licking diligent strokes up your slit, two fingers curling inside you to hit just the right spot that makes your hips buck into his mouth and your back arch off of the bed. he brings his free hand to your hip, keeping you from squirming too much as he sucks at your clit. the noises you make only encourage him, and you swear every time you moan his name you feel him smile against your cunt.

♡ words of affirmation

phrases along the lines of: "good job" & "i'm proud of you" & "i love you" & "you're so beautiful," fall from jack's lips like they're the easiest things in the world to say. he obviously truly means them but he takes extra care to vocalize it to you because he sees the way you light up when he does.

he’s a big texter for sure, since a lot of the time when he’s at work he doesn’t have time for anything more than a quick check on his phone. before you move in together he texts you good morning & good night every day & asks you if you got home safe. messages you throughout the day if he's not with you to ask how you're doing or ask you if you’ve eaten anything or even just to tell you that he’s thinking about you.

to get a teeny bit nsfw, jack definitely has a huge thing for praise. loooves to call you a good girl, tell you how pretty you are, how good you taste, how well you take everything he gives you etc. he’s very vocal esp when you’re giving him head, telling you how good you feel and how you’re doing such a good job.

if he’s in a store & they’ve got a pretty card he thinks you’ll like, he’ll buy it for you just to write a little love letter in it or something.

jack walks in through the door with a few bags of groceries in one hand and a little pink envelope in the other. he sets down the bags in the kitchen before going over to you to hand you the letter. you take it, a little confused, you genuinely wonder if you’ve forgotten about your birthday. when you open it, it’s a beautiful, fancy hallmark card. inside, a few paragraphs written with whatever pen he found lying around in the car. he watches you read it with a little smile on his face, seeing how it almost brings a tear to your eye when you read it- just sentence after sentence about how much he loves you and how you make every day better by just being in his life and how lucky he feels to have found you.

i’m not sure if this falls under words of affirmation but he definitely loves pet names & nicknames and stuff like that. terms like baby, sweetheart, baby, honey, my love, all of it. even if it’s just a nickname for your first name, he likes to have that sort of special connection with you.

♡ quality time

if he’s not at work or sleeping off a night shift jack is with you.

he loves to take you on dates, whether they’re just simple dinner and a movie’s or more elaborate day trips somewhere or walking around downtown all day. his favourite kinds of dates are the ones where you get to talk- so admittedly movies aren’t his preference. he loooves talking to you, hearing what you have to say, bantering back and forth on a hot topic, and just the sound of your voice in general.

but you’re both busy people, and often don’t have the time or energy to be going out all the time, which is fine because jack is more than happy to just spend a lazy night in with you. maybe you order takeout or maybe you cook something together, as long as he’s with you he doesn’t care.

sometimes though when one or both of you are just absolutely drained, he likes to just do nothing with you. scrolling on your phones with your feet in his lap, wordlessly watching the news side by side. when words are too much effort, he’s more than happy to just be next to you.

jack gives me big reader vibes. one day he takes you to a cute little indie bookstore where you each pick out a book to spend the rest of the day curled up in bed together reading.

he also loves to travel, so you two definitely go on trips whenever your schedules line up. he loves planning itineraries but always works in days for you to just lounge around the hotel or by the pool.

“what’s this?” you ask, nodding at the plane tickets stuck on the fridge. jack looks over at you, “i noticed that we have a week off at the same time next month so i thought we’d go somewhere.” you take the tickets from under the magnet, reading them over. “bahamas!?” you say excitedly once you spot the destination. he nods walking over to you, “needa get out of this depressing pittsburgh winter. spend some time by the beach, drink in hand, getting tanned and attacked by seagulls.” you laugh, and pull him into a hug, “thank you baby,” he smiles into your shoulder, “of course, we need this. been workin’ our asses off lately,” he pulls away to press a kiss to your cheek, the leans in right next to your ear, “plus i really like the way you look in a bikini, so that’s a bonus.”

send an ask if you want me to write one of these for any other characters!!! (robby, pope, etc!!!) or if u want me to elaborate on any points :P

[lauraneedstochill]

silence my storm

pairing: Jack Abbot x resident!reader summary: Abbot falls harder for you without even noticing, but he struggles to apologize for what he said. He might lose you before he finds the right words. part 2 of Can’t pretend

warnings: rivals to <friends> to lovers, slow burn, implied age gap (you can ignore it) / descriptions of war; mentions of dr*gs, horrible parenting and losing loved ones, dealing with PTSD and panic attacks / PITTFEST (mass shooting, blood and injuries), ANGST. but there’s a silver lining! ♡ / words: 9.5K / author’s note: I imagine Danny Glover as Donny because that man would def talk some sense into Jack ♡ this part is intense so buckle up! / {you also can read it on AO3}

As long as Abbot can remember, he always managed to stand out. He was unruly as a kid, flouting authority and speaking out against injustice. He got teased for his skin sprinkled with freckles, for curls that turned auburn in the sun; he was hated for his inability to yield. The same attitude got him into the army, the same relentlessness helped him push through the combat training — in ten weeks some men were broken and remolded to fit in; but not Jack. He was resilient and fast and competent — with first aid, hand grenades, and rifles, during the obstacle course and field exercises; he joked that it felt like a summer camp. It also felt like the perfect place for him, and the medic training only strengthened his resolve. He didn’t seek attention but he attracted people with his biting humour and his never-fading perseverance. And he believed he could withstand it all.

Then he got deployed to hotspots, to places where the earth under his feet was scorched by blasts, heat dizzying, pulse throbbing in his head. And he watched as the villages were flattened to the ground, vehicles made of steel reduced to wrecks, and half of the things he’d learned before were proven useless. It left him hardened but it didn’t break him. Because somehow Jack always knew the way and the right words, because if he could save a life a day, it was all worth it.

But then came the war zones, and those weren’t about saving as much as they were about survival: on battlefields, in trenches, on desert wastelands that stretched on for miles, sand swirling in the air, legs heavy with fatigue, skin slick with sweat. And death tore people limb from limb, never a negotiator but a butcher, only allowing Jack to dig more graves. Those years flayed him of his assurance and his ardor, and he was knocked down, beaten, maimed, his body scarred and heart shattered, the damage that seemed irreparable, pain that left so many soldiers hopeless. But Jack got right back up.

And he got rougher at the edges and he talked less, but he decided to give life another chance. Jack studied with the same diligence and he threw himself into his work, as persevering as before, as tough as ever. The patients found his stoic demeanor calming, and other doctors respected him for cutting to the chase and thinking quickly. And undeniably, there is some comfort in being the one people can rely on, a beacon that guides through the darkest nights.

But you make Jack feel like he is invisible. And that’s a first.

It would make sense for you to glare in his direction, to let hostility cut through your tone when he’s around. You do none of that. On Monday, when Robby finally comes back — sunglasses tucked in his hoodie pocket, a giant cup of coffee in his hand, a smile so big his cheeks must hurt — you rush in barely a minute after and greet him, quite warmly. You say nothing to Jack although he’s standing right there next to him. Jack stops himself from following you with his gaze and listens to your retreating footsteps. It’s Dana who is glaring at him.

Robby is yet to notice it, his eyes on the board. “I see, the house is packed as always. How’s everyone been doing?”

“Peachy,” Dana deadpans, then moves a medical tablet to him with one hand. “Enjoy.”

His smile wavers at her tone, his gaze darting from her to Jack. “And how is our new senior resident?”

Abbot doesn’t meet his eyes. “Good.”

“Okay, what’s with the one-word answers?”

Princess rolls her chair closer with a smirk: “She’s very good.” Robby groans and she huffs. “What? It was more than one word! Everyone’s so cranky post-COVID.”

“First of all, my test came back negative so it was not COVID. And I do not appreciate you guys trying to ruin my mood this early in the morning,” Robby remarks although he doesn’t sound offended.

But his gaze wanders back to Jack as if he can read something from his reticence, as if he had suspicions before he even came through the doors. “Dr. Abbot, why don’t you tell me about the patients admitted overnight?” Robby suggests nonchalantly. “Come on, let’s take a walk. I’ve heard it’s good for health.”

Jack’s thinking of an excuse to stay. But then he sees you coming back, fresh scrubs on and face focused, and he almost turns around after you, he almost calls out your name. He has to reason with himself: it shouldn’t be a public conversation, you’d never want it to be. And he is yet to find the words for his regret. So he complies with Robby.

They step away, and Jack looks down at the screen, a colored spreadsheet with names and traumas. Robby cautiously looks around. And then he asks:

“So, back to the new resident. Are you getting along?”

Jack accidentally walks into a gurney someone left behind, curses under his breath and forces out: “Like I said, everything’s good.”

Robby hums, hardly convinced and clearly concerned. But not surprised. “You know what I’ve been thinking of recently?”

“I’m sure you are about to tell me.”

“You coming to work here. Remember your first few weeks?”

Those weren’t easy — not to live through, not to reminiscent of. Jack can recall some bland moments and hollow dialogues, a lot of pitying glances given to him. He had to bury his wife six months prior to that.

“I know I wasn’t a ray of sunshine—”

“You were kinda insufferable,” but Robby’s brown eyes are filled with sympathy as he says that. “I mean, obviously no one blamed you. I can only imagine how hard it was in the beginning.”

A crease settles in between Jack’s brows. “And you are reminding me of it why exactly?”

Robby stops, his hand landing on Jack’s shoulder. “Listen, we all adapt to new environment at our own pace. It’s easier for some people but for others, it can take time. And we, as the attendings, should give them that time and not take anything personally or rush to conclusions. If someone isn’t an open book, it may mean they have reasons to keep things to themselves.”

Jack only gives him a confused nod; although the words make sense to him, he can’t grasp their full meaning. “Okay?”

“Glad we are on the same page,” Robby gives him a pat and swiftly turns around.

“What about the patients?”

“Oh, I skimmed through the list, I’ll look up the rest if I need to. Go get some sleep.”

And Jack surely needs it. But Robby’s words stay on his mind, and the incomprehension bugs him, so much so that he comes back to the nurse station. Dana ignores him, loudly tapping on the same one key. He leans to her, lowering his voice:

“Was I insufferable when I first started here?”

“Why the past tense? You aren’t any better now,” she quips dryly.

He can’t hold back a heavy sigh, and when Dana casts a glance at him, he is equally tired and contrite. She grants him some reassurance, albeit begrudgingly.

“You were fine, Jack. All things considered. We knew you’ve been through some tough times. But you are a damn good doctor, and that’s all that matters,” she looks back at the computer. “Although you did scare half of our staff with your silent staring and your tactical knife. Please tell me you don’t have that thing with you.”

“I will refrain from answering that,” Jack straightens up, and her short chuckle gives him hope.

If only approaching you was just as simple.

It’s not that Jack cannot admit that he was in the wrong. Taking accountability for your mistakes helps you to learn from them, his therapist once told him, and words can hurt as much as they can heal. Jack’s had his fair share of hard conversations and harsh truths, and he would never shy away from either. But when he thinks of your heartbroken gaze, his usual equanimity escapes him, and no apology seems good enough to make up for his outburst. Still, he owes it to you to try.

Jack hopes to seize the moment before his night shift, he spends the day gluing together a small speech: he was unfair, he was wrong, he’s sorry. His gaze finds you as soon as he steps into the ER — a habit he doesn’t know how to get out of (nor does he want to). It’s almost laughable how hard it is for him to summon up the courage, it feels like every step to you takes twice as long. He is about to say it — Hey, can we please talk — but you breeze on by him, and then it is too late. Jack persuades himself the timing wasn’t right: he doesn’t want to distract you from your work, he’ll wait until you get a couple of free minutes.

You do not spare him even a second of your time.

It doesn’t seem unfounded: you are busy with patients, you help the nurses with case files, you keep an eye on Whitaker, and offer guidance to anyone who asks for it. Jack’s persuasion wavers but he clings to it, he is dead set on fixing things, he’s never been a quitter.

But your determination is a match for his — and you are awfully proficient at silent treatment.

One day of Jack’s futile attempts bleeds into two, then three, then a full week. And every time you walk past him like he doesn’t exist, like bones and tissues he is made of turned to dust. It should be a relief that you don’t make a scene; instead, your coldness wounds him, a deep incision somewhere at his ribs. And Jack is torn — he wants to put more effort in, he is afraid of taking it too far: it will not help his case if he ruins your lunch break or creeps up on you at the locker room. And it will make him reek of desperation.

But the uncertainty starts gnawing on him, a new bite with each day he fails. The short apology he crafted loops through his mind non-stop — until it sounds like a useless jumble of words, until Jack isn’t even sure him talking to you will not make things worse. You come and leave on time, you offer him no mercy, you master your avoidance as if he is a plague. And Jack is plagued with agitation, and by the third week he is already losing sleep: if he wasn’t desperate before, now he sure as hell is.

Jack checks his phone again because he keeps mixing up the days: it’s Tuesday, he came an hour early and hasn’t seen you yet. He pootles to the vending machine to give coffee another chance to wake him — and suddenly catches a familiar voice.

“Darling, I truly do not want to be a bother, but I have a friend here and I was wondering if you can —”

“Donny?”

It’s been a few years but he hasn’t changed one bit — six feet tall, gaze sharp but eyes warm, russet brown, short grey hair that looks silver against his dark skin, a charming half-smile. He’s also got a huge bruise on his forehead, and there’s a wheelchair he’s ignoring, leaning on the table with one arm.

Princess grins at the man and nods at Jack. “This is the friend?”

“No, this is my biggest pain in the ass,” Donny retorts but his smile grows bigger.

Jack smiles back and walks to him. “Of course, you can’t live out your retirement in peace. Did you head the ball again, sergeant?”

“You’re just jealous 'cause you suck at basketball,” Donny unceremoniously hugs him. But his poise falters slightly when Jack looks closer at his injury. “Apparently, I need a head CT. I keep telling 'em it’s no big deal —”

Jack shakes his head, silently tapping on the chair — Donny rolls his eyes and sits down without protest. “Page me when radiology is ready to take him,” Abbot tells Princess, then smoothly wheels Donny away. “Let’s get you comfortable in the meantime.”

“Do I get a cute nurse?” Donny curiously glances around. “Who can you page to sneak me a Margarita in here?”

“You get me and a cup of ice you can munch on.”

“Jesus, you do know how to kill the buzz.”

“This is me giving you preferential treatment.”

“Aw, you are honoring our unshakable camaraderie? Or have you gotten softer with age, Abbot?”

“It’s neither, but if you die on my watch, Martha will skin me alive.”

“Actually, she’d probably drink to it — we divorced last year.”

“Good for her.”

Donny snorts with laughter, boisterous and unapologetic, slapping Jack’s hand wrapped around the handle. He is about to talk back but then someone catches his attention — Donny turns his head, and his voice turns mellow:

“Oh, here you are, my angel! I was looking for you. Should’ve known the best doctors are the busiest.”

Jack pulls up short — not in reaction to Donny’s words but at the sight of you, standing a few feet away and looking right in his direction. And then the strangest thing happens — a miracle like an oasis in a desert, like a flower blooming in the dead of winter: you smile.

Jack’s breathing hitches.

And he watches like you a blind man who’s seeing sunrise for the first time in his life. It’s faint but undeniably sincere — joy dancing at the corners of your lips as you come near, your gaze kind when you talk to Donny. “Haven’t I told you to take it easy?”

“You know I can’t sit still, I like doing things. I’ll rest when I’m in the grave.”

“And I’d rather it happen later than sooner,” the words are stern but your voice is gentle, caring — something Jack suddenly wishes to deserve too. But you talk to Donny as if there’s just the two of you. “What was it this time?”

“That atrocious painting! I swear Martha superglued that thing to the wall. I spent an hour trying to tear it off, had to go grab a ladder. And I don’t know, maybe I slipped on the puddle of my own sweat,” he grumbles, a tad bit embarrassed. “And now I’m waiting for you guys to stuff me inside that noisy metal barrel. I better not get stuck in that thing.”

“You’ll fit just fine,” you say simply, gaze grazing his head: nothing too alarming for you to stare at. “You can close your eyes and pretend that you’re on a beach. Somewhere in Santa Monica, just like last summer.”

“Yeah, minus the imminent bump on my head,” he cackles. “Do you get lunch breaks in here? Will you come talk to me when you have a minute?”

“I’ll find you after you get a CT,” you promise — and then brush his shoulder with a quiet remark: “You are in good hands.”

And Jack can’t help another glance at you but you already round the corner to disappear somewhere in the hall. So he keeps his face straight and finds Donny a bed, then helps him sit against the pillows.

“You fell off a ladder? Should’ve mentioned it,” Jack takes the tablet and pulls up his medical records.

Donny squints at him. “Hmm, that’s weird. Man, what is this feeling...”

“What, does your head hurt? Vision getting blurry or —”

“It’s the tension between you two!” Donny hisses. “Why were you so awkward around her?”

Jack opens his mouth; then closes it, unsure. He’d love to know how you and Donny met but he doesn’t want to snoop around. His eyes are on the screen, his tone flat:

“Your angel, huh?”

“Oh, I’m sorry I don’t have a cute name for you. Your grumpy face doesn’t exactly call for it.”

“Luckily this face comes with a smart head and steady hands. That’s what you’d want from a doctor.”

“Well, aren’t you a modest one,” Donny doesn’t sound amused. “Now stop deflecting and tell me what’s going on. Were you hard on her, is that it?”

Jack wants to say yes. He was insensitive, he was an idiot, and now you’re giving him a cold shoulder, and it’s been driving him insane. But whining will not make things better. And Donny’s wisdom and support should be offered to you, not Jack.

Donny gives him a level stare. “Listen, I know seventy-eight doesn’t exactly instill fear. But I still can pack a hefty punch. And I swear I’ll punch you if you aren’t treating her right,” — and he immediately relents, his words in between a plea and a request. “Man, I’m serious. Go easy on her, the girl’s been through hell.”

“Haven’t we all?” Jack mumbles.

There is no bitterness and no harbored resentment — it’s just how life has been for Jack. And Donny is aware of that so he isn’t judging. He thinks over what he is about to say. Jack reads his file: irregular pulse, complaints of fatigue, some swelling of the legs.

“You know I’m not the one to sugarcoat all the crap we’ve been through,” Donny tells him bluntly, and it’s the truth. “When I hear random folks raving about their picture-perfect military days, I always call them out on their bullshit. But if there’s one thing I am grateful for, it’s the people. My closest friends are from the army and none are finer,” Donny holds a pause, like he is climbing over an imaginary fence, into an imaginary vault your secret’s hidden in — but not anymore. “Her brother was in the army too.”

Jack stops reading. He hesitates because he realizes right away that this is personal, this isn’t a story meant for just anybody to know. But then again, he knows nothing about you. How bad can this one story be? He looks up, and Donny continues.

“He was definitely one of the good ones. Damn, Sammy was a gem, such an enthusiastic kid. We served in Syria, and it was a shitstorm — well, you know what it’s like — but I can’t remember him complaining once. Good morals, quick reaction, awesome shooter.”

A happy ending is unlikely so Jack calculates the options: killed in combat or crossfire, body delivered in a sealed coffin. Or maybe never found, left somewhere in a foreign land, bones crumbling into dirt, a ghost that haunts his family for years.

“He got sent off to Kabul, a lot of snipers did. Back when Bush thought Al-Qaeda just ambles out in the open, waiting for the brave americans to show up and shoot everyone dead.”

“So, shitty planning?” Jack guesses.

“More like no planning. They got stranded in the mountains, Sammy and his squad. Lost contact with the base, half of them massacred within a week. He dodged a lot of bullets but he took a nasty fall — arm twisted backward, pulled his shoulder out of its socket.”

Jack instinctively grimaces. “That’s 11 out of 10 on the pain scale.”

“He gave it a 100. They were out of meds, completely lost, he was in and out of consciousness. Then, by sheer fucking luck, they found some tiny village, and one of the locals sheltered them. He was no doctor, and I’m sure he meant well... He suggested opium for the pain. The guys agreed.”

Abbot thinks he’d rather step on a landmine again. Any death in combat is a tragedy, but at least it’s quick. Addiction kills you slowly.

“They popped his shoulder back into place but the pain lingered,” — and Jack imagines torn ligaments and damaged blood vessels, the bruising changing color from red to blue. “It was hard to wear a backpack, hard to sleep at night.”

Abbot deduces grimly: “He needed more opium.”

“And he came back an addict,” Donny nods. “It wasn’t just opium, it never is. But Sammy did try to get better, I’ll give him that. Two years in support groups, in therapy, going from one rehab to another. And she would always follow him around, pay him visits, send him letters. She refused to give up on him, and he loved her to pieces, and we all wanted for him to get a grip… I wish I could tell you why he never did. He just kept falling off the wagon, and eventually, he ran out of money. So he borrowed some — from the people you should never be in debt to. And when he didn’t pay in time, they thought: what’s a better bargaining chip than his dear sister?”

Jack wishes he could go back in time and tell Donny he doesn’t want to hear this story. Heavy, hot rage already simmers in him — at the mere thought of someone hurting you; it also pains him deeply.

“They roughed her up, pretty badly. And one of them got out a gun — on trial, they insisted they didn’t mean to fire it, they just wanted to scare Sammy so he’d pay. The guy aimed at her but then a fight broke out, and someone pulled the trigger. Sammy pushed her away at the last second. The bullet went right through his heart. He probably died before those fuckers even managed to escape. When the cops arrived, they had to drag her away from his dead body. She was fifteen.”

Jack wants to bang his head against the wall.

And he thinks of you freezing at the doors, of how your gaze didn’t meet his when you were wiping off his blood, of your strained voice. And you weren’t reckless, weren’t prideful or condescending. You were afraid he might get hurt trying to keep you out of harm’s way. Because it happened to you once before, because it tore your heart in half. And his words made you relive that.

“It’s hard to bounce back after that. I don’t know how she did. Not with her parents' help, that’s for sure.”

Jack clears his throat; his voice is marked by sadness. “They aren’t very close?”

“I still can’t believe they are related,” Donny rants. “I’ve heard that money ruins people but her parents set a new low. Couldn’t say a single good word about their own son at his funeral. Didn’t care to console their daughter. They were ready to fuck off as soon as the priest gave his speech but she didn’t want to go. And they just left her at the cemetery, can you imagine? I was the one to give her a ride home. And I swear, at some point that evening I contemplated murder.”

And he doesn’t say the exact words, but Jack reads between the lines: you’ve got no other family. You had to grow up having no one to rely on.

“They wanted her to get a banking job. Said she shouldn’t spend her life digging into someone’s guts, it is not very lady-like. But she studied day and night, managed to get a scholarship — hell, I didn’t even know they offered those in med schools. The day after she got into residency, she cut ties with her parents. Haven’t spoken to them since. And I guess the silver lining is that she did become a good doctor, despite it all.”

Abbot gets paged to radiology. But his thoughts are far away — in his childhood home, at the dining table in the kitchen: here’s his mother with her contagious laughter, his father with the deep voice and crude jokes, the comfort of a family meal and sharing conversations. There were arguments too, even fights — his dad and he were too alike to compromise sometimes. But he knew that his parents would have his back, and they always did. Not getting that support as a child sounds hard, harrowing. You must’ve been very lonely.

Donny studies him for a moment. “So are you gonna tell me what you did or should I start throwing punches?”

After all the truth he’s just learned, it feels wrong to lie. “I... I did go hard on her. But I will apologize,” Jack says firmly and faithfully, like a vow. And he can’t help but admit: “You are right, she really is great.”

Donny can’t resist a chortle. “I’m always right. You should know by now.”

His CT comes clean but he does reluctantly complain of headache. Jack figures it’s a mild concussion and lists the basics: take paracetamol for the pain, rest for a week, no physical activity. No alcohol.

“Not even a splash of whiskey? Not even a tiny —” Donny reads no from Jack’s unblinking stare. “You are no fun, Abbot. Like, at all.”

“Your liver will thank me.”

“My liver is attached to me, and right now I’m not feeling very grateful,” but Donny isn’t aggrieved either because he swiftly adds: “Where’s that cup of ice I was promised?”

The walk to the ice machine and back takes Jack about five minutes. He hears your voice first — and he can tell you’re smiling just from the sound of it. Jack sees you from afar and gets his hunch confirmed: Donny is scrolling on his phone to show you something, his face expressions eliciting a laugh from you, genuine and carefree. And when you are like this — not wearing your usual defense, not rushing anywhere, not weighted down by every bad thing you had to live through — there’s so much light in you, Jack finds it hard to look away. Warmth threads through him, quiet and calming, and he can’t stop looking.

And he is drawn to steal more glances at you, like would a treasure hunter carefully steal pieces of art.

Jack catches on to small things: you mindlessly tap on the corner of the chart when you’re deep in thoughts, you often bite the inside of your lower lip while you are reading, eyes darting quickly from left to right. And he wonders what your favorite books are, and if you spend your evenings cozied up under the covers in the dim light of your bedroom. But what is readable to him under the LED lamps of the ER is weariness that spills under your eyes and tugs at your limbs, your voice quieter and your pace falling off a little.

On Wednesday you have to stay an extra hour when one of the patients goes into preterm labor: it ends with her hemorrhaging, blood trickling on the floor, and Robby steps in, and everyone is loud and maybe slightly panicking. You aren’t — still steady and unwincing and knowing all the right steps, no guidance needed, no mistakes made. But then you walk out and pull the edges of your sleeves down to your fingers, as if you’re cold, as if your grit is frailing, and it makes Jack’s heart ache. He grabs a knitted blanket he has stacked deep in his locker — thick, soft, bright plaid, a handmade gift from one of the army vets he treated years ago. He leaves it at the nurse station, as if by accident. You almost miss it on your way out, but then your eyes glide over it — and you can’t help but touch it, putting your whole palm onto the fluffy wool. It’s just a speck of comfort before you back away, hands quickly tucked in the small pockets of your denim jacket.

But the next day, when Jack trudges to the ER after another failed attempt to sleep, he sees that you’re already dressed to leave — your hoodie half a size too big, your hair down and head titled as you talk to Dana, — and you are holding to the blanket with your fingers, relaxed or tired enough not to fight a smile. He lingers at the doors and gazes at you for a long minute. And then he sneaks into one of the waiting rooms so your face won’t fall at the sight of him. When he comes out, you are gone, but the blanket still has some of your warmth. And he aches all over.

On Friday there’s a storm alert, and the evening comes dreary and drizzling. Jack isn’t surprised that they get a car crash victim barely ten minutes after he is in. It is a woman in her thirties — with a head injury and three broken ribs, clothes wet with rain and blood, her vitals weak. But somehow her daughter is intact, and she’s brought in by one of the paramedics: six years of age, tight curls and a tiara on her head, poofy dress that’s sky-blue and sparkling. And she can’t stop crying.

People are drawn to help — the nurses come to offer her kind words, to bribe her into calmness with some sweets. But her sobs turn into wails, cheeks red, and body shaking, and she’s too terrified of everything to be reasoned with. And Jack is bothered by how powerless he feels, how much he wants to be of help too but has no clue where to begin. There was a time when he really wanted kids; but recollecting it feels like reopening a wound he spent years on healing.

You emerge out of the trauma room and take the gown off with one swift motion, your gaze already on the girl. But you tread carefully, slowly, waiting until she sees you coming with her teary eyes. Then you crouch down next to her.

“Why is a princess crying in our hall? You are shedding tears all over your beautiful dress,” and your fingers smooth out the layers of satin and tulle, and she glances down at your hands. You give her a small smile: “You look just like Cinderella.”

She stops mid-sob, stares at you, then at her own dress again, bright sparks of glitter caught in the blue. She manages out, sniffling: “S-she is my fav-vorite.”

“Isn’t this what she wore to the ball where she met the prince?”

The girl goes quiet, wipes her nose. She gives you a nod — and then another one, more certain. Her words come out calmer: “Like in the movie.”

“Even prettier up close,” you assure her easily and wipe off her tears with your fingertips. She’s pouting but she isn’t crying anymore. You brush away a curl that stuck to her wet cheek. “I know you must be scared but you are safe now. And our best doctors are trying very hard to make your mom feel better. You just need to hold on for a little longer,” you murmur. Her lower lip trembles yet she fights against it, small hands grabbing the sparkling fabric. Her eyes are woeful but yours are warm, as is your voice. “What is that Cinderella’s mother used to say? Something about being kind and having courage.”

She looks like she’s about to burst into fresh tears. Instead, she shakes her head with defeat, curls bouncing at the movement.

“I don’t— Don’t think I have a lot of courage.”

“It’s okay, honey. You can take some of mine,” you tell her and take her hand in yours, fingers gently massaging the skin above her wrist. Her breath is even, all of the tears dried up; and timidly, she smiles. You get up, your hand still holding hers.

“We have a room with coloring books and a teddy bear who can keep you company. And on the way there I’ll let you pick a jelly, any flavour you like. How does that sound?”

She agrees eagerly, and you breathe out a short laugh, then lead the way. And Jack’s gaze stays on you, his own breath stilled — and a thought crosses his mind before he can stop it, vivid like a falling star: you will be a great mom. And in the next second, he forces himself to look away, to push back a myriad of other thoughts suddenly sparked into existence. Because it is unreasonable, because he fucked up, because it’s wrong to even think of that.

But it doesn’t feel wrong.

He battles with himself for half an hour. The girl’s mother pulls through — Jack learns about it from Robby who goes around looking for the kid.

Dana shrugs with the utmost indifference. “I didn’t see where they went. Dr. Abbot, any chance you did?”

He knows you must be still in the waiting room, and maybe now it’s time — he’ll walk in and make apologies, away from any prying eyes. He will be genuine and repentant, he’ll take all the blame. At this point, he isn’t above begging.

“I’ll bring the girl,” Jack mutters.

His heart rate instantly speeds up as he approaches, throat dry and body stiffening, even before the room comes into view. Jack breathes in and pulls the door handle — and right at the entrance, he comes to a halt.

It’s quiet inside, and on the small uncomfortable couch stuffed in the corner, you and the girl are sitting, covered with his knitted blanket. And you are asleep. The tension in his chest evaporates as he watches you — your head pressed to the wall, your face peaceful, and he wishes for nothing more than for you to always feel like this.

Jack takes one step in, and the girl peeks out from under the blanket. She puts a finger to her mouth, then slowly gets up, the blue dress shimmering and rustling slightly as she moves. The kid confidently struts to Jack, wraps one of her hands around his, holding the teddy bear in another. She looks up at him and whispers: “How is my mom?”

“She’s alright,” Jack whispers back. “You can come see her.”

She tugs at his hand, and Jack glances at you, commits the moment to his memory, convinces himself he’ll make it quick. The girl brims with excitement but she acts polite and walks slowly. And she peppers him with questions: how many rooms are there in the hospital? Can you fix everyone who’s hurt? Can doctors wear dresses at work? Are all of them as tired as the lady who gave her the orange jelly? Jack winces at the last one. But he likes talking to the kid — it’s actually quite easy, fun, not scary at all. When they reach her mother’s room, she turns to look at him again.

“This is Mister Courageous. You can take him,” she gives him the plushie, the bear’s paw pressed into Jack’s palm. The girl beams at him mischievously, and he sees her dimples when she adds: “Maybe you need some courage too.”

But with all his courage, Jack is short on luck: when he rushes back to you, the waiting room is empty, his blanket folded and left lone on the couch. It is upsetting because tomorrow is his day off; but he comes up with a flumsy consolation: he has more time to think over what he should say, to phrase it better. So in between the patients, he mentally constructs another speech, tactful and heartfelt, no less than you deserve to get. His nerves are eased a little by the morning; he gets home and gets about five hours of uninterrupted sleep: no dreams of oceans, no nightmares filled with fog.

The afternoon is sunlit, warm against Jack’s skin when he draws back the curtains. He takes a shower and makes lunch, then does the dishes and the laundry. And he turns on the police scanner — out of boredom, out of habit, just so he’s always in the loop. His day off lasts for about ten more minutes before the PBP frequency roars to life:

Shots fired. Multiple GSW.

He grabs the walkie and turns up the volume. It’s Code 3 — and he knows its meaning from the memo: Backup requested. Proceed immediately. All available units.

Jack gets ready like’s about to go back into combat — he dresses up in under two minutes, with measured breathing, and quick steps, and cold composure. He takes out the bag he’s got packed for emergencies: a mini ultrasound, tactical crickits, tourniquets, hemostatic dressings. He thinks about going to the ER on foot because the roads will get busy in no time. But he decides against it — running the distance with his prosthetics isn’t the wisest choice: it will be a long shift, he’ll need all his strength.

So he gets the keys to his pickup truck, hurries down the stairs and into the parking lot; he slams the driver’s door shut, then his foot presses on the gas. In nine minutes Jack’s already going through the sliding doors — Robby exhales when he sees him.

“Brother, I’m so fucking glad to see you,” he gives Jack a hug, his face laden with worry.

“I heard the news on the police scanner, drove here as fast as I could.”

“Yeah, I figured. You just missed the briefing.”

“Let me guess, colored slap bands? I’m in the red zone?”

“You and me both. Go grab yourself a fancy orange vest,” Robby nods toward the table already crammed with supplies.

“How many are we expecting?”

“I don’t know but it doesn’t sound good. Pittfest must’ve been packed.”

Dana walks past them, visibly nervous and holding up the phone. When Robby looks at her, she shakes her head no.

Abbot gets alarmed. “Wasn’t Jake supposed to go there?”

“He was, I gave him my ticket a month ago so he could take his girlfriend with him. But he went down with a nasty cough, and they had to cancel plans. Apparently, it’s COVID.”

“And he definitely didn’t get it from you,” Jack chuckles.

But Robby isn’t smiling, and Dana doesn’t put the phone away, doesn’t stop calling. And there is a feeling that crawls up Jack’s spine, like winter frost crawls up a window pane:

something is off.

He takes a look around, scanning the crowd of residents and nurses, and everyone is talking in hushed voices, and many faces that he knows now wear the expressions he doesn’t like seeing: fearful, hesitant, dismayed. A few are managing alright — Mateo and McKay are reassuring Javadi, Santos is helping Mel tie a gown, going over the instructions out loud. Whitaker is standing silent, his fingers clasped together and green eyes anxious, like deer’s.

That’s when Jack realizes that you aren’t here.

“Where’s your star resident?”

Robby averts his gaze. “She u-um... Took two days off. I heard that she’s been working overtime, and I didn’t want her to burn out. Seemed like she’s been a bit stressed these days.”

Jack is stung by guilt. Because he suspects it’s not just work that got you so stressed, because he is the one at fault and —

“Whitaker said she planned on going to Pittfest.”

Robby’s words have the effect of a grenade, the air knocked out of Jack’s lungs like doors out of a building by a blast. And he’s left deafened by the shock wave: Jack can see Robby talking but no sounds reach him, drowned out by the ringing in his head. He has to focus to read Robby’s lips — he’s saying you will be alright. You’re a tough kid. You are probably helping everyone who’s injured. You are too busy to pick up the phone.

But Jack’s imagination is adept at picturing the worst: deep wounds, deadly wounds, your heart flatlining, lungs stopping, every hopeless case from the textbook. And even worse is the razor-sharp realization:

he had so many chances to tell you.

Now he may never get another one.

His throat tightens like he’s about to get sick. A nurse bumps a disaster bin into him on accident, and Jack steps aside, unsteady on his feet. He has to bandage the pieces of his composure back together, and he desperately hammers disbelief into his head: no, you might actually survive, there is a good chance that you will.

He holds on to that thought like it’s his lifeline.

Jack gets the gloves and safety glasses, stands closest to the doors, waits for the first wave of injured. And once he sees it — fresh blood, torn flesh — the autopilot finally kicks in: Jack moves like he’s on the battlefield, where time is critical and every second counts. In the ER, it does too. In the red zone, it’s 5 minutes per patient, after that — it’s OR, ICU, or morgue. So Jack gives orders and intubates and cuts into bodies, his hands busy with tubes, bandages, and blades; he fights for every life. But then he notices a gurney fully covered — the first corpse — and he goes to look under the blanket, and his hands shake, a tremor that seeps down to his bones.

And it is getting harder to shake off his fear, to act like all his thoughts aren’t consumed by you.

Unwittingly, Jack looks for hoodies and denim jackets, for your hair color, for anyone whose face resembles yours. In the second hour, two more victims die, both male; in the third, they get a dead body from a civilian’s car — a woman, headshot to the head, a quick death. And every muscle in Jack cramps up when he sees her: it’s not you but it could’ve been. Maybe they’ll bring in your corpse next.

And he can’t take a full breath.

Jack makes up an excuse to leave for just a minute. He walks into the bathroom and presses his head against the cold tile wall. He slowly counts to 60 and gets back out, chugs half a water bottle. Then he sees Robby running out of the corner of his eye. Jack gazes after him — one second, two, three, four. And then his gaze stumbles upon you.

Dark green shirt, sleeves stained with crimson, blood drained from your face. But you are standing on your feet. You are walking on your own.

You are alive.

Relief hits him so hard, he almost chokes on his emotions. The ringing slowly fades as his lungs finally gulp air, his eyes now glued to you. You bring in an old man — one of the guards, shot in the leg: you stopped the bleeding, and he is responsive. Ahmad is following you, his shirt bloodstained too, a mark one of the victims left. He doesn’t care, he keeps mumbling something to you but you weakly wave him off. Your left sleeve is bunched up at the top like there’s a bandage underneath, and your every move is slowed down like you are fighting off exhaustion. Jack’s legs carry him to you with zero hesitation.

Robby glances at him and back at the old man. “I’m taking this one. His vitals are surprisingly good.” Then he barks out at Ahmad: “Go change your shirt, you look like you got stabbed. You’ll give someone a heart attack. C’mon, now!” — and he wheels the old man away, Mel treading on his heels. A nurse groans behind them at the amount of blood splattered all over the floor.

But Jack couldn’t care less about the patients, his focus on you, his voice aching. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him with your hand pressed to the wall, a little breathless, almost soft. Involuntarily so. Because of course he doesn’t deserve any of your softness. “Where’s the pink zone? I want to stick around.”

He wants to argue with you but then you meet his eyes, and your gaze is disarming, striking, and Jack is too guilt-ridden to oppose. So he concedes and points you in the right direction, then watches as your silhouette moves through the waves of white and red until you are out of sight.

Jack drinks more water and helps Mel with intubation. Whitaker passes by, maneuvering between the wheelchairs and the gurneys — he asks for extra bandages, and Robby shouts in reply that he’ll bring some. Princess asks around with irritation who the hell left bloody handprints on the wall.

“Speaking of not getting drenched in blood,” Robby comes running. “I just removed the absolute perfection of a tourniquet. Great placement, no cardiac issues, didn’t get a drop on me. Not that you can tell,” he jests tiredly and changes gowns.

“The old guard from the fest?” Jack asks absentmindedly.

“Yep. We patched him up so good, he’ll be dancing in a month.”

Whitaker’s face is suddenly splashed with incomprehension. “Wait, that can’t be right.”

Robby turns to him, one brow raised in a silent question.

“You just said the tourniquet worked well. But it’s his gurney that left a trail of blood at the entrance, I almost slipped on it,” Dennis explains.

That same feeling bites into Jack again — there’s something wrong. It’s something bad. Ahmad strides into the hall, clean shirt on, still half-unbuttoned because he’s in a rush. And he goes straight to Robby.

“Hey, man, can you reason with your resident? I ain’t no doctor but I’m pretty sure she shouldn’t be running around with a bullet in her shoulder.”

There is a lull — like one before a bomb strikes.

Then Robby roars: “She what?!”

And Jack’s already on the move, looking for you, heart in his throat, blood running cold. You never made it to the pink zone — you stagger in the hallway, holding yourself against a wall, the cotton shirt balled up in your hand. You wear a tank top, and now Jack sees it all so clearly as if he’s looking at an x-ray: your left shoulder slumped down, an entry wound right of your shoulder blade — the bullet must’ve missed the bone because there’s still some movement and you aren’t bent in pain. But dark maroon is smeared down your arm, the bandage soaked, the streaks of blood running to your wrist.

Then you sway slightly on your feet, and Jack reaches you just in time to catch you. Your eyes dip shut, and in a second you are unconscious, your body going limp and lifeless in his hands. Jack searches frantically for a pulse when he notices:

there is no exit wound.

So your shoulder is a minefield, six arteries waiting to explode on contact with the bullet — and now the count goes on for minutes. He knows that, he’s dealt with that, he should get to work. But he can’t move, swept by a wave of horror, dread filling him up like icy seawater.

Someone is yelling.

Someone is running to him.

A gurney hits the nearby wall, the metal screeching against concrete.

“Up, up, up!” McKay moves the gurney closer to him. “Why didn’t anyone check her for wounds? Does she have a pulse?”

“Yes,” Jack manages, voice hoarse, fingers unsteady on your neck. He moves them under your chin — and there is a beating, faint like a ripple on the water, enough for him to let out an exhale. “She does have a pulse.”

He picks you up and places on the gurney, one of his hands immediately slick with blood. McKay swiftly moves you through the hall with Robby running by her side, his face wracked with distress. “She didn’t say anything, she— Fuck, I should’ve asked.”

Jack is wracked with so many feelings that they are tearing him apart. He should’ve asked you too, he should’ve noticed, how could he not. How could he keep his penitence a secret for so long. The trauma room you’re wheeled into quickly fills with people — as if in some unspoken pact, it’s mostly women: Santos, Javadi, Mel; Dana is looming at the doors. Dennis peeks in from behind her back.

But in the sea of faces, Jack is only seeing you.

He registers some fragments, freeze-frame shots flashing through his mind: your body turned on one side, wound splashed with antiseptic, someone’s gloved hand gliding the transducer over. The gel mixes with blood, the clumps of it being wiped off your skin, more bandages pressed to the wound, more fluid leaking, soaking them. He knows the bleeding’s not arterial because it would’ve been much worse. It doesn’t make him feel better.

“Jack!” McKay calls out to him again; he only hears it on her third attempt. There is a rumbling outside — the thunder rolling in, a harbinger of rain.

“She’s O-neg, and we are short on blood bags. That’s your type, right?” Cassie asks louder. “Can you donate?”

“Yeah,” Jack replies distractedly. It takes a few seconds for the words to settle in. “How do you know her blood type?”

“We donated together,” Javadi hurriedly explains. “I mean, technically she was the one donating because I didn’t really— I’m kinda not a fan of needles and— Sorry, doesn’t matter. She’s O-neg.”

Jack gazes from you to Robby. “Did you locate the bullet?”

“It grazed the scapula and snuggled close to the axillary artery. No metal shards,” but the unease flickers through Robby’s concentrated face.

Because it isn’t just the arteries and bones: it’s webs of muscles, nerves and vessels — the bullet going through all that would leave a lot of damage. It can leave you in so much pain, you won’t be able to move your arm. It can put an end to your career.

The thunder claps once more. The nausea threatens to bubble up Jack’s throat again. “What caliber?”

“Pretty sure it’s a .22.”

Robby darts a glance at him, and Jack can read its meaning: a .223 bullet would’ve shattered the bone. Would’ve been lethal. A .22 is smaller, so you have better chances to recover. And Jack will get a chance to —

The monitor starts beeping as your blood pressure drops. More bandages are thrown out wet. The rain outside loudly scuds against the walls and windows.

“You sure the artery’s intact? She is still bleeding,” McKay notes, brows furrowed.

“Arterial comes in a different color,” Robby’s expression mirrors hers. He peers at the image on the screen, eyes narrowing, a moment that is unbearably too long. Then his brows shoot up. “It’s not the artery, it’s the vein.”

Your heart rate is bright before Jack’s eyes, the number inexorably increasing: 120, 124, 127, 130. Robby is aware of it too — he quickly moves the ultrasound machine away. Then puts on a new pair of gloves.

“The ORs are packed so we need to deal with this in here. Cassie, you’re with me, everyone else — get back to your patients. We will update you guys when I’m done.”

Jack’s gaze wanders back to you — your tank top cut in the middle, the fabric ruined, your shoulder marred by the open wound that will leave a lifelong scar. He only now realizes that he’s been holding to your green shirt. He grabs it tighter.

“Let’s do a direct transfusion,” he breathes out.

Robby has no arguments against it, and Dana rushes in without command. She rummages through the supply closet. “Hey cowboy, come sit.”

“I’ll stand—”

“No, you will sit. Don’t waste your time on testing my patience,” she stares him down.

Jack stalks in and takes the chair closest to you, his gaze fixed on you, his voice dull. “You can drain me.”

Dana glances at him with a huff. “I’d like to avoid that.”

She pulls his sleeve up, wipes his arm clean with antiseptic, then works fast: a cannula in, connected to the transfusion tubing, then to your vein. Then Dana gives him another look and asks more quietly: “Are you okay?”

Jack looks numbly at his blood flowing, then to the drops of yours left on the floor, harsh red against the muted blue. Robby inserts a tube into your throat. And Jack is not okay, he is very far from it. “I’m not the one on the table,” he notes despondently.

The fear stays wrapped tight around his ribcage like barbed wire.

Your arm is scrubbed with hydrogen peroxide, and Dana helps to hold it up. Your pulse is thready, and all the sounds are muted in Jack’s head, his mind clouded like the sky before the storm, the waves of agitation churning in. His gaze darts to your vitals then to the instruments — scalpels and forceps catching light, steel stained, dark crimson. He watches Robby work with bated breath: it’s dilute epinephrine irrigation to reduce the bleeding, then suture ligation to make it stop.

The red number of your heart rate is slowly going down. Jack’s nerves are tight like a taut string.

He is too overwhelmed to show any reaction when the bullet is extracted, the edges of your wound sewn, the breathing tube removed. He doesn’t notice when Evans takes the needle out and puts a band-aid on his arm. He barely feels his legs when he stands up, his eyes snag on your body being wheeled out to transfer to your room.

Jack follows you without a doubt, with no questions, in a heartbeat.

He leaves his vest at the nurse station, the reasoning he’s come up with is believable enough: his leg’s been hurting, he just needs a break. He takes the stairs and gets up to the patient’s floor right when McKay is coming out of your room. Jack snaps out of his pensiveness only when he’s sitting by your bed.

And he’s afraid to move.

He can’t concentrate on any thought, he doesn’t dare to make wishes, he’s learned not to rely on prayers. So in the silence that’s broken by the thrumming rain, he watches as your chest falls and rises with each breath. Jack balances right at the very edge of slumber, and the exhaustion is weighing on his body but he doesn’t let it up a bit. It feels like time is stretching into endless hours — in truth, it barely takes one. And then he sees your fingers twitching.

He anxiously drags his gaze — up from your hands to chest to shoulders. When he looks at your face, you are already slowly blinking, eyes on the ceiling. You let out a quiet groan — and unexpectedly, it’s followed by your voice:

“If this is about me being reckless again, I really don’t want to hear it right now.”

The hand Jack reached to you freezes midair.

You aren’t angry or annoyed, just tired — which hurts him more. All the unsaid words feel heavy on his tongue; he swallows them without a sound.

“I’m gonna call Robby,” he mumbles and quickly leaves the room.

Jack pauses when he’s outside, his heart pounding so fast he needs a minute to calm down. He takes a few deep breaths, one thought cycling through his mind like mantra: you are alive, he didn’t lose you, all his apologies can wait.

He doesn’t go back in with Robby. Instead, Jack leans against the wall next to the door and listens in on the conversation you are having. Robby holds back his discontent but you do offer him an explanation: you didn’t want to bother anyone, it didn’t seem too serious, you thought you’d ask for help when the ER’s less busy. Then come the standard questions: how much the shoulder hurts, how freely can you move your injured arm, is there still any discomfort? Jack’s getting mildly irritated with how long this process takes because he thinks you only need more sleep. And he does too. He bites his tongue when Robby finally walks out.

“We’ll monitor her overnight, probably will discharge her in the afternoon,” he taps on the tablet, then stretches his arms. “God, I’d kill for a glass of scotch right now. Wanna make a beeline for the bar across the street? I have about an hour left.”

“I think I’ll stay put. Maybe see if Evans needs some help with paperwork, or check up on Shen,” Jack trails off.

In all honestly, he feels like his legs are filled with lead. As soon as Robby leaves, Jack picks a chair and puts it right next to your room and almost falls on it, his limbs lumbering, his body worn to a frazzle. The floor is quiet, and he tells himself he’ll close his eyes just for a minute.

... He wakes up on inhale.

At first, he doesn’t know why.

The weather has calmed down, the raindrops tapping in the distance, the buzz of people echoing somewhere far enough to not be a bother. Jack rubs the back of his neck, his muscles tense, his mind a little drowsy — and he catches a small sound, something like a gasp. Then comes another one, sharp, desperate, like someone is struggling to breathe. And that someone is in the room he’s sitting next to.

Jack leaps off the chair and thrusts the door open, and instantly he meets your eyes — wide, terrified, lips trembling and parted. You are sitting in bed, one hand pressed to your chest as you are helplessly gasping for air. He rushes up to you, his voice low but firm, calm, coaxing.

“Hey-hey, you need to breathe through your nose,” Jack says, but you only shake your head, your fingers digging into the white hospital gown.

He sits on your bed and takes your hand before you can scratch into your skin through the thin fabric. “Can you think of a phone number? Any number. Try saying it out loud but backward,” he suggests, his gaze never leaving yours. “What’s the last digit? Let’s start with just one. You can do it, c’mon. Think about it and tell me.”

It takes you about a minute — with each new second your panic wanes, slowly but surely, like thick fog giving way to clear skies. Your voice cracks when you force out:

“T-two.”

“Okay, that’s good, you’re doing good,” Jack praises quietly. “And what’s the second to last?”

Without thinking, he brushes the inside of your palm with his thumb. You don’t recoil. You keep looking at him, and your voice grows stronger, and you are letting more and more air in as you name the remaining digits.

Only when he hears the tenth, Jack figures out: “That’s the ER number.”

You drop your gaze. “I don’t know many phone numbers. It was the first one that came to mind.”

But what he hears is that you don’t have many people you can call. He wishes there was a decent reason to share his number but he can’t think of any.

“How are you feeling?” he asks cautiously.

You take a deep breath in, then out. “Better, I guess. Thank you. I didn’t mean to bother you, it was just a bad dream.”

Jack guesses that it’s more than that: more serious, long-lasting, the imprint your trauma leaves behind, not letting you forget. Because he knows — from memories, from the experience, his own included. He almost sounds apologetic when he notes:

“That’s how PTSD usually works.”

“Isn’t this too soon?” you chuckle mirthlessly. “I was hoping I’d get one good night while I’m on morphine.”

But then your gaze flits back to him — and it’s wondering and heedful, like you are afraid to hurt him. Your question comes out in a whisper: “Did you have to deal with it too?”

Jack is taken aback although it’s not offense that paints his features — it’s genuine surprise. Did you ask around about him? How else would you know? You give him an explanation before he can find the words to ask.

“The dog tags. You tug at your chain sometimes when you think things over. That’s how I noticed,” and it’s your turn to be apologetic.

But your reply is softened by a smile, and you don’t move your hand away from his. It’s not the topic Jack likes bringing up: he’s rarely met with understanding, and he hates being pitied. But you don’t give him pity — instead, you look at him like you want to treat him gently. And he feels like he’d talk to you just about anything.

Jack slowly nods. “Hard to avoid PTSD if you’re in the military. But therapy helped. Lots of therapy, lots of patience. The good old recipe.”

“Can’t wait to break the news to my therapist,” you let out half a groan, half a laugh. “I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic.”

“My therapist would’ve loved it,” Jack blurts out.

You give him a puzzled look. But you sound intrigued. “Okay, you need to elaborate on that. Or find a better therapist.”

Jack breathes out a chuckle. “He just likes solving things — problems, puzzles, murder mysteries. And I feel like he’s getting a little bored of me. Sometimes when he is writing in his notebook, I wonder if he’s just got a crossword hidden in there.”

“Oh, mine loves baking. I used to leave with hands full of pastry. I shared it with colleagues, I even started feeding birds. It’s kind of a relief that we switched to online sessions. Pretty sure half of the pigeons in my neighborhood now suffer from obesity.”

A smile crosses Jack’s face — not at the thought of chubby pigeons but at the realization: you find it easy to talk to him too. But then your hand trembles in his, and instantly Jack is on alert for trouble: his eyes dart from your shoulder to the needle taped to your arm.

“Are you in pain?” Jack frowns. “What’s your morphine dosage? You can get a little extra if —”

“No,” you refuse sharply, and Jack’s acutely aware he chose the wrong words. You only sigh and tug at the blanket with your other hand. “It’s not about morphine, it’s just... My blood pressure is usually low so I get cold easily.”

Jack perks up: that’s something he can actually help you with. “Wait, I’ll be right back,” he promises and rushes out like he just got a second wind.

All his enthusiasm is blown out by the chaos in the ER: it takes him a mortifying amount of time to find where his wool blanket disappeared. He searches the entirety of the nurse station, goes through his locker, he checks both bathrooms and even ventures out into the morgue. He’s running past the entrance when he glimpses Shen — with the said blanket thrown over his shoulders.

“Hey man, look what I found!” Shen blithely tells him.

Jack darts to him and yanks the blanket off, his gaze burning. “Don’t. Just don’t ever touch this.”

Shen blinks uncomprehendingly. “What? It’s not like it had your name on it!”

When Jack comes back, he finds you curled up on the bed, the thin bedcover brought up to your neck, hands folded under your cheek. He tiptoes closer and puts the blanket over you, then tucks you in. He’s checking the IV line’s placement when all of a sudden, your fingers catch his palm — as if on impulse, or maybe out of habit you are unconsciously forming.

“You are so warm,” your voice is barely above the whisper.

His hand stays pressed to yours as you doze off, and Jack stands still. For a minute, five, ten; he doesn’t feel like moving.

And then, without letting go of you, he manages to reach the chair and pull it closer to your bed. He sits down and lowers one of the side rails, then leans to you, his elbows sinking into the mattress, your steady breath grazing his skin. Jack rests his chin on his free arm and watches you — with peacefulness that’s akin to tenderness, with some other feeling that fills him up with warmth.

And slowly, he gives in to sleep, lulled by the sounds of the rain and monitors, his hand tangled with yours, his thumb on your pulse.

GSW = gunshot wound / PBP = The Pittsburgh Police;

shout-out to @/thedarkesthistories who made a post about everything Jack’s got in his backpack ♡

I did a lot of research (the FBI agent watching me through my laptop was probably hella confused by me reading case studies and watching surgeries lmao) BUT obviously, I am not a doctor so please forgive me for any inaccuracies;

the title is a quote from “Wake” by SYML ♫

dividers by @/cafekitsune & me.

some bad and good news. the bad: this chapter originally was coming close to 20K and... no, I don’t think many people would’ve read that. so we’ll have 4 chapters in total instead of 3. the good news: the next chapter is half-written so hopefully it won’t take me forever to finish it (fingers crossed).

English is not my first language, so feel free to tell me if you spot any major mistakes!

I also want to take a moment to thank everyone who left a comment and reblogged my fic(s). obviously, I am grateful for every like I get. but if I’m being honest, my imposter syndrome often beats all the motivation out of me, and as much as I enjoy writing, I spend an embarrassing amount of time on self-doubting. I know my fics aren’t everyone’s cup of tea (I rarely write short stories, I don’t include smut in every single one, my writing style might seem overloaded or too detailed... the list goes on), and that’s fine. but I also have an unfortunate habit of joining fandoms a little too late. which feels like walking into a cafeteria where all the tables are already taken, and no one intends to spare you a seat. I don’t feel like a part of a community and at the end of the day, I write for myself. which is why it’s so rewarding when people find the time to say something nice about my fics and to share them. thank you so much to every single one of you, that means a lot to me. ♡

[xylatox]

One room over || csb

Izzy I am finally reading it god <//3 I am so excited literally the jjk mention alone has me giddy 

You haven’t seen him since, but you found other friends. A girl that you were seated beside (Thank you, seating chart, you say to this day) and her older sister Jisoo, who you later found out was in the same class as Soobin. 

I love it when brackets are used like this in fics and ugh. Mc’s first interaction with soobin is so cute i could cry.

“Are you okay?” Soobin’s soft voice takes you out of your thoughts, making you look at him again. “Yeah,” you nod. “Thank you, Soobin.” 

This is so cute ahhh :((((( 

So, he let his feelings get the best of him. He’s never done anything about them, but they were there and he knew about them. 

I will always be soft when the guy just falls first and doesnt do anything about it

Please do. His eyes soften but he doesn’t say anything, biting back the words that hang on the tip of his tongue. He can’t. No matter how much his heart wants to, he knows better than to be reckless and admit his feelings in the middle of the classroom just because you said something you don’t even mean. 

I wouldve loved to see how this would play out

His hand moves up on its own, coming to cup your face. But when he realizes what he’s doing, he quickly pats your head instead. That was the first and last time he was close to confessing or taking a step forward he could never take back again. He couldn’t. The more he watched your smile, the more he knew he had to hold back his feelings no matter what. 

IZZY I WILL PASS OUT

 “I could learn from Ryan,” you roll your eyes. Right. There he was again. Soobin’s smile falters for just a second, his mind drifting to the “absolute love of your life” as you like to call him. You knew him for just a little over a year and somehow, he managed to become one of your best friends. Which, if he was honest, was pissing him off. 

No another man got her😔 And a moment to appreciate how bubbly her personality is its so cute

“What is it?” Soobin blinks as he sees Ryan leaning on the wall beside him, watching them with a smirk on his face. He shakes his head, glancing towards where you ran off before looking back at Soobin. “Nothing,” he answers, walking off with a knowing smile. Soobin frowns, sighing before following you. 

Oh he knows I just know he does

His cheeks grow hotter as he notices a few of the watchers commenting how cute you two look together and some of the new fans asking if you’re his girlfriend. He doesn’t answer any of them but they sit in the back of his mind, thinking about them, about you. You don’t seem to pay them any attention but he wonders what you think of them, of the thought of you and him together. 

This has me so giddy >< I love this streamer au so bad

“You should work on your expressions,” Beomgyu comments, the sound of a drawer opening and then closing again heard in the background of their call. “What are you talking about?” Soobin asks confusedly, frowning. “My chat has been asking me about you and her. Apparently it’s ‘super obvious’ with the way you look at her.” 

CRYING GIGGLY EVERYTHING EEK!!

Soobin’s surprised face makes you chuckle. “Let’s take a picture, you look nice today,” you encourage, pushing him towards a body sized mirror in the hallway. He has to blink a few times before he takes out his phone but still doesn’t say anything, trying to calm himself down. This isn’t a date, he has to remind himself every time you look up at him with those sparkly eyes and make his heart race just a bit faster. 

Izzy :(((( im so soft oh my god

“You mean like the fact you practically asked Taehyun to marry you the first time I introduced you?” He teases and your eyes widen as you slap his hand. 

I would do this too if i was her

“Listen and see,” he smiles warmly and you roll your eyes in disbelief. The room gets quiet again and you bite the inside of your cheek so you won’t say something stupid. He shifts in his place, sighing. “If you tell me what’s bothering you it’ll be a lot easier for me to help.” 

Oh hes so in love with her with that mentions of The Shade

“In that case, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.” 

FINALLY AHHH!!!

“You can touch me, Soob. It’s okay.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he holds your waist again, careful, like he’s afraid to break you. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You won’t,” you assure him gently. “I’ve known you for so long there’s no way you could make me uncomfortable with some physical touch. Hug me, hold me,” you lean closer to him, lips brushing over his ear, “kiss me, ask me on dates, do whatever you want, baby.” 

Theyre so cute ill fucking pass out

He nods hesitantly. “I am. Present tense.” Your hands fall to his shoulders, punching him with your fist gently (it’s more like a caress) as your head drops to his shoulder as well, hiding your face from him. “You can’t do this, that’s not fair,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to get yourself to stop blushing. 

Man they are so darn cute fr

When he pulls back, he looks like you’ve just handed him the stars he thought he could never reach. 

This line >>>

I LOVE how awkward Soobin is its so him coded hes so cute ugh

“Have you ever thought about the fact you and Beomgyu are like Itadori and Megumi?” You wonder, snacking on a bag of chips while watching the two interact. Soobin raises an eyebrow. “Who am I supposed to be in this incredibly wrong scenario?” He sounds almost offended and you have to sit up because of how oblivious he is. Funny, isn’t it? 

Crying I love JJK and I love them :::( they really do fit them

“A boy,” he admits, his heart feeling heavier as he puts himself out there. “But I’m not–” his throat tightens when the words come out. Except for you, there was no one else he’s told. No one who he would trust enough to share the information with. “No one else knows so don’t–” 

I KNEW IT. IZZIY i swear I thought it was a guy then i thought i misread and oh my god I KNEW ITTTT

He leans back with you, his arms resting on your waist as he lays down, his back pressed against the mattress. “Just for the night,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Let me want you a bit more.” 

I WILL PASS OUT. I love how bottom coded soobin is someone sedate me

“You’re beautiful.” You learnt to accept his compliments after some time (because you’re not sure if there has been a day in which he wouldn’t compliment you in some way) but they still worked on you every time, making you blush.

O god i really will pass out

“I love you,” he mumbles, just like he has many times before. But this time, it’s different after all. Because this time, you can say it back. 

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper, sealing the words with a kiss.

OMG I CANT BELIEVE IT ENDED :((( IZZY im so glad i finally got to reading this oh my god its so sweet i swear. I love them soso bad

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

IN WHICH after looking for an apartment for months you finally find a nice place, but it's too big and expensive for you to live alone in it so you ask her two best friends, hoping they could help you out.

pairing– childhood bsf!Choi Soobin x fem!reader

featuring– original characters, members of txt

genre– Fluff, Smut

contains– foreigner!reader, jealous!soobin, childhood friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, roommates au, streamer!soobin, streamer!beomgyu, uni romance, sunshine!reader, she has a lively personality, Soobin is in love, like really desperately so, Soobin has a license and a car, one sided pining, Soogyu shipped as a joke, jujutsu kaisen mentioned

smut warnings– inexperienced!Soobin, dry humping, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex + creampie, breast play, missionary, oral (f. receiving)

word count– 20k

playlist

↪ izzy speaks... I'm finally getting to my old ideas!! I was so excited to write this (even though I struggled a bit as I actually don't play many games myself) and I'm really happy with how it turned out! I hope you'll enjoy it just as much <3

only lightly proofread!

The first memory of Soobin you have is from when you were ten, freshly moved into town, with no idea how to say anything but a short and simple introduction. You were in Korea for a month, still trying to figure out the alphabet and all the school paperwork in your hands written in what seemed like hieroglyphics as you walked through the school hallway, trying to find your way around. 

“I give up,” you groan, your hands falling back to your sides as you look around, hoping for any clue on where the principal’s office might be. You debate calling your dad, asking him to pick you up and begging him in the car to turn down his promotion after all and take you back home because it’s hell here, but you stop yourself. 

Instead, you take a few eager steps forward, determined to reach the office no matter what. But to your luck, you find yourself on the other side of the school, blinking quickly as you try to make sense of the situation unfolding in front of you. Three guys hovering over another boy who keeps his eyes on the textbook in front of him, trying to make it look like he isn’t intimidated by them. But you notice the slight flinch of his arm when one of them raises his voice. 

You frown, trying to find the right words. Whatever you could say, you weren’t sure if they would understand you. You knew there wasn’t a high chance of them speaking English, and you definitely didn’t know how to tell them to get lost in their language. 

You’re not sure how much time passes when you just stand there, trying to figure something out but eventually, they notice you. You watch them exchange some words that sound like curses, completely ignoring your presence as they press him further, demanding something from the poor boy in the chair. 

“Leave him–” Before you can finish your sentence, a strong voice interrupts you, the Korean echoing through the empty classroom. It makes them all back up without hesitation and you turn around as well to see what was so scary behind you. Your eyes meet with an older man who you can only assume is one of the teachers. He asks you something but you just shake your head, trying to explain that you don’t understand him. It’s useless because before you can even open your mouth, his attention redirects to the boys behind you, talking to them instead. 

After a short moment, his eyes travel back to you, tilting his head slightly as he observes you. “You’re the new foreign student?” Your eyes widen at his English, immediately nodding. You introduce yourself, asking him about the principal’s office. “Yeah, you’re all going to the principal’s office,” he mumbles, yelling at the boys again. You blink a few times, watching them pass by and grumble something under their breath as they follow the teacher outside. 

The boy from the chair walks last, his head down and his bag swinging on his shoulder. He looks around your age, even though his height suggests otherwise. You quickly catch up to him, asking if he’s okay. He glances at you, scanning your features before nodding. You smile, offering him your hand with a memorized introduction. “Soobin,” he hesitates before grabbing your hand, frowning a bit as you shake it. He doesn’t say anything else and you don’t either, just quietly walking towards the principal’s office, preparing to get questioned about what had happened. 

You quickly learnt the names of the three guys in your first week, everyone telling you to stay away from them when they heard about the incident you walked in on. Apparently, ‘Hyunwoo and his dogs’ as the kids liked to call them, were quite famous for their behaviour. From drawing on all the possible tables in school to more violent rumors, one you might have saved Soobin from that day. 

You haven’t seen him since, but you found other friends. A girl that you were seated beside (Thank you, seating chart, you say to this day) and her older sister Jisoo, who you later found out was in the same class as Soobin. She helped you understand a lot of materials and kindly explained everything she could within her English skills, while Jisoo took you under her wing in the social sense, telling you everything about everyone and making sure you knew who to avoid interacting with. You were grateful to both of them, you still are to this day. 

The second time you met Soobin was almost six months later in the hallway when you were rushing to your next class and accidentally bumped into an upperclassman. You mumbled an apology and tried to push past but it was already too late.

 “Watch where you’re going,” Taeyang, one of Hyunwoo’s ‘dogs’ pushes you, and before you can stop the fight from happening, a group of kids creates a circle around you, some of them cheering and some whispering about what is happening. You sigh, running your hand through your hair. 

“Foreigner is fighting with Taeyang in the hall right now!” 

Soobin immediately looks up from his textbook, eyes widened as he watches everyone in the class stand up and rush outside to see the situation for themselves. “Oh god,” Jisoo mumbles from behind him, quickly pushing through others to get there first. He stays seated for a while, waiting for everyone to leave before standing up and making his way out. 

The argument is already at its peak when he arrives, trying to make his way through the crowd of people. 

“Let’s go,” Jisoo tries to tug at the hem of your shirt. “Stay out of it, Yoon,” Taeyang warns her immediately, taking a step forward. You swallow a lump in your throat as you look up at him, ready to take whatever is coming. “This little bitch thinks she can push me and then tell me to watch where I’m going.” 

“That’s enough.” You jerk your head to the side when you hear the voice, your brows furrowing in confusion as you watch Soobin place his hand on Taeyang’s shoulder and push him back. “You’re crossing the line. Leave.” It’s obvious from the look in his eyes that he wants to argue, fight maybe even, but with the way Soobin towers over him and stares him down, it leaves him no other choice but to back up. 

“You think you can scare me?” 

“I don’t care if you’re scared. What I care about is that you’re going too far. Especially since you’re in the wrong,” he states calmly, casually moving to stand between him and you, covering both you and Jisoo from Taeyang’s sight completely. You blink a few times, confusedly glancing between your friend and the giant in front of you. 

“Soobin doesn’t do fights,” Jisoo leans in to whisper into your ear. “No matter if Yeonjun or Beomgyu are involved, he avoids these situations no matter what.” 

“Whatever,” Taeyang mumbles after a moment of hesitation, pushing past the crowd to get away. You watch him confusedly, trying to figure out how. How could he start a whole fight with you just to run away the second another boy shows up? 

“Are you okay?” Soobin’s soft voice takes you out of your thoughts, making you look at him again. “Yeah,” you nod. “Thank you, Soobin.” 

After that day, it became somehow easier for you to find your way into his life. Joining him at lunch, going to his class during break to spend time with Jisoo but eventually just striking up a conversation with him instead. You just wanted to befriend him. 

And you did. 

Everything turned into a routine shortly after, from eating together and spending time with each other during breaks, to studying together and hanging out outside of school as well. You often accompanied him to pc cafe’s and laughed as he argued with his best friend over who was better, and in return, he always paid for your drink. It was comfortable with Soobin, and you soon started calling him your best friend. 

For Soobin, it was the same. It was comfortable hanging out with you. He could be himself without having to worry about what you thought of him. He watched you get along with his friends, immediately blending in, he admired you as you told him about your day when he walked you home—also a routine you started after a few months when you realized you live in the same direction—and he was there for you every time. No matter how bizarre your problem was, he was there, and he made sure you understood that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

But over time, his affection towards you started turning into something more. He started noticing the little things you did, like scratching your nose when you tried to focus on something really hard, or how you always doodled in the corner of your notebook when you were zoning out. He tried not to pay attention to those things at first and ignore the weird feeling in his stomach every time he talked to you, but he eventually realized that wasn’t an option. 

So, he let his feelings get the best of him. He’s never done anything about them, but they were there and he knew about them. 

Jisoo caught onto them as well, he believes. She never said anything to him about it or you as far as he knew but it was obvious from the way she looked at him whenever he was around you. Still, he acted as if he couldn’t see it, deciding it would be for the best to just ignore whatever he was feeling so he wouldn’t ruin your friendship. 

“Soobin!” The fifteen year old turned around immediately at the familiar voice, his eyes wide with question as you ran into his class, the biggest grin on your face. “Yes?” 

You hold up a piece of paper in front of him, beaming like the ray of sunshine he knows you as. “Look!” 

“I told you you’d do great,” he smiles back, scanning the A- on top of the page written in red ink with his eyes. “It’s only thanks to you! God, I could kiss you right now!” You exclaim, almost tearing the paper in half from excitement. 

Please do. His eyes soften but he doesn’t say anything, biting back the words that hang on the tip of his tongue. He can’t. No matter how much his heart wants to, he knows better than to be reckless and admit his feelings in the middle of the classroom just because you said something you don’t even mean. 

His hand moves up on its own, coming to cup your face. But when he realizes what he’s doing, he quickly pats your head instead. That was the first and last time he was close to confessing or taking a step forward he could never take back again. He couldn’t. The more he watched your smile, the more he knew he had to hold back his feelings no matter what. 

“Let’s go, you should get to your next class,” he mumbles instead, averting his eyes from you. Get a grip. 

You blink at him through your lashes but nod. He’s right. You do need to get to your next class. You just wanted to show him your accomplishment first. After all, he was the one who sat with you and explained all the material to you for hours. “I’ll see you later then,” you smile, hiding the test result back into your bag. “Our place?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, something you can’t quite name flickering in his eyes. 

The soft ringtone echoes through the room, the flash making Soobin glance to the side. “Fuck,” he mumbles, focusing on his monitor again. “I need to take this, you got it for a second?” 

“Yeah, go ahead,” his best friend, Beomgyu, answers, and Soobin immediately mutes himself, giving an apologetic look into the camera for his watchers. He notices a few comments asking who is calling him and what kind of call he is receiving but he doesn’t answer any of them, picking up his phone and turning off his webcam. 

“Soobie!” You exclaim and his lips immediately curve into a smile. “Yeah?” He asks, relaxing in his gaming chair. “I found the perfect apartment!” You explain and his eyes immediately widen in excitement as well. You’ve been looking for weeks now but everything was always either too pricey or far from university. “Yeah?” He’s pretty sure you can hear the smile in his voice but he doesn’t care. “Is it close?” 

“Super close! I could even skate to school if I wanted to.” 

“You? Skate?” He snorts. “Like on a skateboard?” Just the idea of seeing you trying to balance a skateboard was hilarious to him. He knew that if you put your mind to it you could do it, but until then, he was free to imagine you falling over and over again. 

 “I could learn from Ryan,” you roll your eyes. Right. There he was again. Soobin’s smile falters for just a second, his mind drifting to the “absolute love of your life” as you like to call him. You knew him for just a little over a year and somehow, he managed to become one of your best friends. Which, if he was honest, was pissing him off. 

It felt as if you were incapable of leaving him out of conversations and even though he knew he had no right to feel this way, he was jealous. 

“Sure you could. Call me when you do so I can come along and see you fall over and over again.” And so I could make sure he doesn’t try anything. 

“As much as I love you, you’re such a brat sometimes,” you shake your head at him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. “You got that from Beomgyu.” 

“Take that back,” he fake gasps, making you laugh. There is a smile on his face again right away, his eyes softening when he listens to your laugh. “Anyway, that’s not why I called. I was thinking…maybe, we could come look at the apartment together again tomorrow. It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It’s definitely too big for me to live there alone.” 

“Are you suggesting I move in with you?” Soobin blinks a few times, trying to figure out if this is a joke or one of his many dreams coming true. There was no way, right? “And finally get to escape Beomgyu’s nasty room? Please.” You laugh on the other side of the phone, again. 

“He probably wouldn’t like hearing that.” 

“Good thing he is in his room with headphones and I’m muted then.” 

“Wait, shit, am I interrupting your stream?” Your eyes widen immediately, apologies slipping from your lips. “It’s fine,” he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. But…you’re serious, right? This isn’t one of your jokes?” 

“I swear on my family that I seriously want to move in with you,” you assure him. Soobin could feel his smile growing even wider, looking at his computer screen to make sure he was still muted and his webcam was off. He wasn’t sure how he would explain his smile if he weren’t. He must have looked stupid smiling like a ray of sunshine just because his best friend was calling. 

“Isn’t it still too big though? Don’t you want to look for something smaller?” 

“I’m actually planning on calling Ryan right after we hang up. He’s been looking for a place as well so we could kill two birds with one stone. I wanted to ask you first, though.” 

“Ryan?” Seriously? What was with his luck lately? “None of your girlfriends?” 

“I do not want to be the reason you start hooking up with Jisoo or any other of my friends for that matter. So no, none of my girlfriends,” you roll your eyes, chuckling. You think it’s a joke, it was meant to sound like that, but before you can add to it, he interrupts you. “I don’t want to hook up with any of your friends,” he grumbles, taking it more seriously than he should. You frown, “Okay? Sorry, I didn’t think you would actually hook up with my friends.” 

Soobin sighs, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what’s gotten into him all of a sudden. “No, I’m sorry. So, tomorrow you said? What time?” 

“Two pm! I remember your schedule correctly, right? You don’t have a lesson then, do you?” 

“Nope, two pm is great,” he nods slightly, looking at the chat under his stream. They were currently laughing at something Beomgyu did but he wasn’t sure what it was. “I should get back, looks like Beomgyu did something stupid.” 

“Yeah, of course. Have fun, I’ll join in a bit,” you smile, saying your goodbyes before hanging up. Soobin rests his head against his chair as he places his phone down again, groaning quietly as he hides his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure if this little arrangement you had in mind would work but he wasn’t going to miss out on his chance just because of some one-sided beef he has with Ryan. That would just be stupid. 

So the next day, he finds himself standing in front of the address you provided him at 1:50, nervously looking around and trying to find you with his eyes. Instead, his eyes fall on a boy, his fluffy hair falling in front of his eyes. “Hey,” he calls at Soobin, making him force a smile as he waves at him awkwardly. “You got here earlierly.” 

“Yeah,” Soobin shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Didn’t want to make a bad impression before even moving in.” Ryan chuckles, nodding, “Didn’t expect any less from you.” Soobin frowns, trying to figure out what that even means. He doesn’t say anything else though, simply joining him by his side. 

Ryan is around Soobin’s height, slightly taller actually. His hair is black, catching small waves at the ends, and his eyes are a lighter shade of brown than Soobin’s. He’s in all black, like every time he’s met him, comfortable in his loose shirt and jeans. Every time they stand beside each other, Soobin wonders if that’s what you’re into. He looks down on his outfit, a white button-up with light blue jeans, a completely different aesthetic from Ryan’s. 

Soobin shakes his head, snapping out of his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure what he was worried about. Sure, Ryan might play the guitar, make music, skate, possess English skills that he could only dream about and be a foreigner (which was also the reason you started talking to him in the first place), but that didn’t mean he was going to steal you from him, did it? 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to arrive as well, greeting both boys with a hug. Soobin’s hands wrap around your waist, carefully inhaling the soft scent of your hair as he lingers in the hug for a little longer than he should. You giggle as you step back, smiling at them warmly. “Should we then?” 

You follow the owner around the empty house, pointing at certain areas and chatting about how you could decorate it and where to put what furniture. Both guys just keep nodding to you, figuring it was for the best to just have your moment. You don’t mind. 

“Okay, I’ll let you look around on your own. Just shut the door when you leave and send me a text,” she squeezes your arm lightly with a warm smile and you nod immediately. She’s sweet and has been treating you with nothing but respect and kindness since she laid her eyes on you so it was easy to return the favor to her. 

“I will. Have fun on your date,” you smile, prompting the guys to say their goodbyes as you watch her leave. “You two have gotten close,” Ryan comments with a snort, making you roll your eyes. “Yeah well, I want to live here so it’s normal to have a good relationship with the owner, don’t you think?” He shakes his head at you but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Well then, what do you think?” You look between the two boys, hopeful. Soobin smiles at you immediately, unable to hold back when he sees the spark in your eyes. “It’s really pretty,” he mumbles, his eyes soft. You beam right away and it makes him even less sure if he was talking about the apartment or you. “Yeah, you weren’t lying when you said it was, and I quote: ‘the only and greatest apartment to ever exist.’” Ryan laughs. You resist the urge to kick him in the leg and decide to turn to Soobin instead. 

“I’ve heard the connection is great and the internet doesn’t crash or anything, so you could stream and play games without any problem. And! We could set your console in the living room and play together on the couch, that’d be fun, right?” 

Soobin nods, “Yeah, that sounds great.” 

“So you guys are happy? We can talk about the arrangement and settle everything? Please say yes, I’m going insane over here.” Both boys chuckle and nod, making you jump up immediately. “Okay, in that case what do you think about…” 

The three of you walk around the apartment once again, deciding where to have the kitchen corner, which bathroom will be yours and which the boys, and then also assigning the bedrooms. Ryan immediately took dips on the smallest one, saying something about it being cozy and just spacious enough for him and his music, which left you and Soobin. 

“It’s yours,” he says calmly as you stop in the largest room. You glance up at him, shaking your head. “No, no, you should have it. You need space for your computer and all, you should take the room. I’m fine with the other one,” you assure him but he doesn’t budge, trying to use the gentleman card and saying you should have the first pick as the female. Jokes on him, you immediately played around with his words and said you want to pick the slightly smaller one. He wanted to convince you to have it but before he could open his mouth again, you ran off. 

“What is it?” Soobin blinks as he sees Ryan leaning on the wall beside him, watching them with a smirk on his face. He shakes his head, glancing towards where you ran off before looking back at Soobin. “Nothing,” he answers, walking off with a knowing smile. Soobin frowns, sighing before following you. 

And just like that, after a little paperwork and preparation, you slowly start moving in, until the apartment is full of boxes, furniture, books, and laughter from all three of you. It doesn’t take long for you to ease into a comfortable rhythm, dividing chores and setting some ground rules to avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings or fights. 

It all feels easy, honestly. You spend every morning in the kitchen together before leaving for school and then relax together again over dinner. It often ends up with all of you disappearing into your own rooms and studying or simply doing your own thing, but every once in a while, you stay longer, playing games on the TV with Soobin or watching a movie with Ryan. You always laugh loudly with them, and it makes you appreciate them a tiny bit more. 

“This is the last time I let you pick a game,” Soobin mumbles, staring at his computer screen, headphones on and his stream on his other monitor. It’s been a good two hours and half of him and Beomgyu playing roblox games and every time it was Gyu’s turn to pick what they were going to play, he came with some terrible, cringe one, full of thirteen year olds telling them both they were fucking their moms. It was interesting, for sure, to see what was going through the heads of kids these days. 

“Not my fault you don’t know how to have fun.” Soobin rolls his eyes, looking over at the chat. Half of them were sending a laughing emote, while the other half encouraged Soobin to play more, having fun while watching him suffer. “Let’s play something normal, please.” 

“Chat, this is him just saying he wants to play doors. Again,” Beomgyu scoffed. “Fine, we can play but if you die at the beginning again I swear I will drive to your apartment and choke you to death.” 

“Warning received,” Soobin snorts. “Let’s finally get through level 100, it’s embarrassing at this point.” Beomgyu couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t the first roblox stream they did together and somehow, they always ended up playing at least a few rounds of the game but never made it past level 80. Either Soobin died too soon by the stupidest death possible, or he lost the run at level fifty. Either way, Beomgyu always ended up alive alone, with little to no chances. 

The game started and like always, it took them more than way too many tries to have them both alive by the time they reached level seventy, both hiding in their own closets as Soobin swore he saw the light flicker. Beomgyu was skeptical about believing him at first but as the closet shakes and a dark shadow runs in front of him, he sighs in relief. 

“Okay, let’s just stay alive for a bit longer,” Gyu comments, running to a door with number seventy one. It’s just a few doors later that Beomgyu dies on accident, leaving Soobin alone. There’s a loud curse that leaves his lips and it causes you to peek into his room. Soobin notices you in the corner of the stream recording and pushes his headphones off while keeping his eyes on the game as he gets through another door. “Sorry, am I being too loud?” 

“No, it’s fine,” you shake your head, smiling awkwardly as you come closer. It’s not the first time you’ve appeared in one of his videos but it still feels embarrassing. You wouldn’t say you’re exactly fit for the camera. “What are you playing?” You ask, answering yourself when your eyes land on the screen. “Hey, Beom,” you lean even closer so you reach Soobin’s microphone, giggling slightly. 

Soobin watches you, really hoping no one is about to kill him because he can’t focus on anything other than your figure beside him. He is in so much trouble. 

Your name leaves Beomgyu’s lips like a prayer, almost begging you to take over and push through the levels which has the chat laughing on the side. You look at your best friend to see if Gyu is exaggerating or if he really needs help. He only gives you a shy smile, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Alright, get up. You’re getting benched,” you laugh as he stands up from his chair and you sit down instead, greeting the chat warmly before focusing solely on the game. 

Soobin brings another chair to sit on, leaving it in the background as he watches, a part of him absolutely in love as you interact with his chat and push past the levels, the other part feeling angsty. You’re right here, making him feel like the luckiest boy on the planet but at the same time, you’re as far as you can be. 

His cheeks grow hotter as he notices a few of the watchers commenting how cute you two look together and some of the new fans asking if you’re his girlfriend. He doesn’t answer any of them but they sit in the back of his mind, thinking about them, about you. You don’t seem to pay them any attention but he wonders what you think of them, of the thought of you and him together. 

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, you manage to pass level one hundred and Soobin snaps out of his thoughts as your loud cheer echoes through the room. You turn to face him immediately, excitement written all over your face and he gives you one of his proud smiles, wishing to do nothing else but wrap his arms around you and never let go. 

“Okay you can die now, I want to play something else,” Beomgyu says, making you turn again which causes Soobin’s face to fall for a brief second. “I should go. I can’t steal Soobin’s job entirely,” you laugh, the sound sending a wave through Soobin’s body. Yeah, he was fucked. 

You really do leave shortly after and Soobin ignores all the comments asking about you, playing for another hour before he ends the stream, sighing loudly as he leans back in his chair. 

“You should work on your expressions,” Beomgyu comments, the sound of a drawer opening and then closing again heard in the background of their call. “What are you talking about?” Soobin asks confusedly, frowning. “My chat has been asking me about you and her. Apparently it’s ‘super obvious’ with the way you look at her.” 

“I don’t look at her anyhow,” he argues and a scoff leaves Gyu’s lips. “Say that to the fans and editors because I’ve seen you, it is super obvious. I want to tell you you have nothing to worry about, I really do, but who knows what she’s going to think when people start shipping you together and pointing out you are head over heels for your best friend.” 

“They already ship you and me together. They do think I’m head over heels for my best friend,” Soobin rolls his eyes, trying to make a joke out of the situation. Because Beomgyu was right, and he wasn’t sure how he would explain it to you if you believed them. 

“Babe, I thought we were keeping it a secret,” Beomgyu gasps dramatically, making him laugh. “And also, we divorced the moment you decided to move out and live with your side chick and arch nemesis.” 

“Okay, stop calling them that.” 

“Why? Am I speaking lies? You literally told me and Yeonjun that you were going to die living with your biggest enemy and jerking off material in the same house.” 

“I didn’t! Stop calling her those weird names, god,” he groans, closing his eyes from embarrassment. Beomgyu laughs on the other side of the phone. “Then do something so I can finally call her your girlfriend because this isn’t even funny anymore.” 

“I’m hanging up,” Soobin proclaims, completely ignoring his best friend and the incredibly stupid topic of conversation. “Have a good night.” 

“Coward!” Beomgyu accuses him with a laugh before saying his goodbye and hanging up. Soobin sighs, staying seated in his place for a while longer before finally deciding to stand up and leave his room to get something to eat. 

He comes into the kitchen right when you’re in the middle of plating a pizza on three plates, making him raise his eyebrow as he comes closer. “I didn’t know you brought pizza.” You look up at him and smile as you hand him his portion. “Not me. Ryan did. His date bought it apparently,” you wiggle your eyebrow teasingly. Soobin blinks quickly to hide the surprise on his face, holding onto the plate with his two pieces. “I didn’t know he was seeing someone.” 

“It’s a secret, act like you don’t know or else he’s going to kill me. He said it’s top secret information but who would I be to keep anything from my favorite best friend?” You lean closer to him, whispering with a soft giggle. You pull back and smirk, “don’t say that to anyone either, though. I can’t have them know you are my number one.” 

Soobin feels like he stops working for a second. Your perfume reaches his nose, already making him weak in the knees. And as if that wasn’t enough you keep saying things that mess with his head. Things that definitely aren’t good for his mental health. He isn’t a psychiatrist but he is sure that if he attended therapy the first thing they’d tell him would be to stop thinking about you like you’re his soulmate and distance himself. 

“Also, Ryan said he’s going to be out tomorrow night so we’ll have dinner without him.” Soobin hesitates, taking a bite of his food as he watches you. “Do you want to go out then?” He asks, a little more hopeful than he should be. “We can get something to eat and do something fun.” 

“That sounds great,” you beam immediately, grinning widely as you pick up the two plates from the counter. “Late night drive around with some maccies is what I’ve been craving.” 

“Okay, then we have a plan,” he smiles and you walk off to Ryan’s room, letting him know you’re going to watch a movie together and that if he needs anything, he can just text you. 

He doesn’t. Because all he can think about for the rest of the night is that Ryan is seeing someone who isn’t you. The day couldn’t get better. 

“Come here,” you shake your head, making your best friend look up. Soobin blinks a few times but listens, closing the distance between you. You undo his tie, causing his eyes to widen. You don’t say anything, simply redoing it to make it look better. It’s been his thing, wearing button-ups with a tie every day and making it look casual but somehow, he still managed to mess up. It was kind of cute, honestly. “There,” you smile, taking a step back to take a proper look. 

Soobin’s surprised face makes you chuckle. “Let’s take a picture, you look nice today,” you encourage, pushing him towards a body sized mirror in the hallway. He has to blink a few times before he takes out his phone but still doesn’t say anything, trying to calm himself down. This isn’t a date, he has to remind himself every time you look up at him with those sparkly eyes and make his heart race just a bit faster. 

He wraps his arm around your waist and you lean closer to him, smiling into the mirror as he takes a picture of the two of you. You ask him to send it to you immediately after it’s done and he just nods, mumbling a quiet “will do,” before grabbing his car keys and stepping into his shoes. 

You grab a jacket from the hanger, following Soobin out of the door as you rant about being hungry and how it took him forever to end his stream and dress up. He doesn’t argue with you because he knows you’re right. It’s already way past 10pm. He knows he is lucky he offered to buy otherwise you might actually choke him. 

You sit in the passenger seat, scrolling through your playlist as you try to find something fitting the vibe while Soobin drives off, taking you to the closest McDonalds like you asked the day before. “Oh. My. God. This is it!” You exclaim and Soobin glances at you, raising an eyebrow curiously. When Home by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros starts playing on his car’s speaker and you show him the playlist you’ve made with him when you were in high school, his eyes soften. 

“That was definitely one of my most played songs a few years back,” he mumbles, taking a turn to the right. “And it was your fault because you loved borrowing my phone for music.” You giggle, placing the phone down and looking out the window. The sun has long gotten down, now replaced with a night sky full of stars. It was quiet, the only sound interrupting your thoughts the song you put on and occasional cars in the other line. 

Soobin only stops the car once he gets to the drive through, lowering the music so it’s barely audible. You don’t even get a chance to speak up before he is already ordering, making sure to get everything you could possibly want. You just watch him, admiring him from your place. It’s easy with him, comfortable, and every time you see him act so boyfriendable, you wonder why he doesn’t have a girl already. You know this is exactly what girls search for in guys, you aren’t an exception. After Jisoo pointed it out one time, you realized you always looked for a piece of your best friend in the guys you dated. 

“Anything else?” He turns to you, the softest smile on his face and you just shake your head, your lips curling into the same stupid grin. “Okay, that’ll be all then,” he says happily, slowly driving the car forward to pick up the drinks. He puts a coke in the middle of the two of you before handing you a milkshake, placing his own beside the coke. 

The happiness is obvious on your face as you get your hands on the food and Soobin drives off, trying to think of a spot to park the car so he could eat as well. “God, this is exactly what I meant when I said I want to have late night car dates with you back when we were little with no idea how cars work,” you take a bite, leaning into your seat. “This is so good.” That’s when an idea flickers in his head, turning the car around as soon as he can. “Remember when we used to hang out at the playground and you’d dream about staying there forever?” 

“Oh my god! And then you’d tell me that’s not possible because I’d catch a cold and die alone because you wouldn’t stay there forever with me! I was so mad at you and cried to Jisoo about not wanting to die alone!” You laugh at the memory. 

“I just wanted to make you go home where you’d be safe,” he proclaims, his eyes focused on the road. “But if it wouldn’t work and you’d want to stay there, I would have stayed with you forever,” he says casually, so simply that you don’t think anything of it because in reality, it’s just a few words. But he is anything but calm as he secretly glances at you in the rearview mirror, hoping to catch something in your expression. You giggle again, sharing the briefest smile with him before taking a sip of the coke. 

He should feel disappointed or sad that his words do nothing to you. He should. If it was him, and you told him you would stay with him forever, he might as well drop to one knee and propose to you immediately. But you aren’t him. And even though he knows you don’t feel the same attraction to him like he does, he can’t seem to feel the sadness or anger. All he feels is happiness. Happiness that despite all that, he can still have you like this, beside him, laughing as you talk about childhood memories, looking equally as pleased as he is. 

Your eyes widen when you notice him parking near the playground you were so obsessed with when you were younger. “It still stands,” you whisper, the sound so quiet you think he doesn’t even catch it. “They’ve made some changes throughout the years but yeah, still stands.” You turn to face him, your expression a mixture of happiness, gratefulness, but also vulnerability because of all the memories the playground holds. His eyes soften, if that was even possible anymore. “Let’s go?” 

You settle on the top of the slide, your legs tangled together as you try to fit into the small space for kids. All the food is placed between you, and the only sounds filling Soobin’s ears are your giggles as you play with your food and tease him endlessly. He takes out his phone and you grin, posing with your milkshake. He laughs as well, putting the phone down beside him as he takes a handful of fries. 

A comfortable silence settles over you, the street lamp casting a soft light over his face. He leans back, watching the sky as if he wanted to count every star possible. 

“Do you ever wonder how we work out?” His eyes flicker back to you, his expression slightly confused. “What do you mean?” 

“Just that…I know people used to think we were a weird duo. Remember when Yeonjun saw us hanging out for the first time and asked you if I didn’t black mail you into dealing with me?” You laugh quietly at the memory, taking another sip of your milkshake. “But then again, I guess you do keep similar types of people around you.” 

“Did you just accidentally compare yourself to Beomgyu?” 

You gasp, trying to sound offended. It doesn’t last long because you end up laughing again. It’s always easy to laugh with him. “I mean, I guess. I don’t know what I’m talking about, honestly. It’s probably the fact we’ve been friends for so long and I already know all your deepest darkest secrets so I can’t ask about that.” 

“You mean like the fact you practically asked Taehyun to marry you the first time I introduced you?” He teases and your eyes widen as you slap his hand. “Come on! Don’t go revealing my secrets like it’s nothing! Plus, we were eleven and unlike your other friends, he was the only one treating me like a lady instead of your little punching bag!” You complain. 

“Definitely not my fault Yeonjun and Beomgyu were immature little shits,” he laughs. “Yeah, well, they still are,” you huff even though you know it’s far from that. Yeonjun has turned into a gentleman who helps old people carry things when he sees them struggling without a second of hesitation, and Beomgyu has been nothing but respectful to every woman he’s met since you slapped him for making an inappropriate joke back when you were fourteen. 

Soobin shrugs, unable to hide the smile on his face, “It’s good you’re always there to put them back in their place then.” You roll your eyes playfully, your eyes narrowing in mischief that doesn’t pass by unnoticed by your best friend. But before he can ask what you’re thinking about, you quickly untangle your legs and sit at the top of the slide, glancing at him over your shoulder. “First one on the swing wins.” 

The night is filled with laughter and stupid jokes as you move around the playground. You get to the swing first, partly because you gave yourself an advantage, but mostly because he has no desire to win. He does get down as well though, and ends up lazily swinging you back and forth while you talk about how school is going and he tells you about today’s stream. It’s intimate, and anyone walking near would think you’re on a date, but the thought doesn’t even cross your mind for a brief second. 

Soobin can’t say the same thing. Because with every brush of his hand on yours, every joke you crack, every memory, and every smile he gets from you, the more he has to remind himself that this is just a casually friendly hangout and he has no right to think of you in the way he does. If he allows himself to believe anything else it won’t go nicely for him. Because no matter how much he wishes to have you more than he already does, he knows it’s not possible. 

“I think we work out because you’ve always just been you around me without being worried about what I’d think and I’ve always admired you, knowing I’d do anything for you just to keep you in my life.” 

The words come out before Soobin can think them through. It’s raw, so vulnerable that he can’t bear looking you in the eyes afterwards, turning around and walking back to the slide to grab all the trash you left there. You blink a few times, smiling like a little kid as you watch him comfortably reach for everything when the memory of little Soobin flashes into your mind and you remember how much he struggled to reach it before. You’ve both surely grown a lot. 

“We should get back, it’s late,” he mumbles, still avoiding looking you in the eyes. You don’t point it out even though you’re confused on why that is and follow him to his car, quickly dozing off as he drives off and Everyone Adores You (at least I do) by Matt Maltese from your high school playlist plays in the car. 

You’re not sure how you got to bed last night but you don’t exactly care either. All you care about is that your makeup is wiped off and you can get ready without cursing at yourself for sleeping without doing your night routine. 

You join Ryan in the kitchen with a warm greeting and he gives you an awkward smile, immediately making you narrow your eyes as you question what happened. Sure, he wasn’t exactly a morning person but that never stopped him from smiling for real when he saw you. He sighs, a sound so heavy and tired you know whatever he’s about to tell you isn’t going to be good. 

You sit on the couch and talk about his date from last night, the English echoing through the apartment. It was always easier for the two of you to talk in English as you could express yourself better and get the emotions out right, especially if it was just the two of you and you didn’t need to worry about leaving anyone out of the conversation by them not being able to understand you. Normally, if you were having a conversation in English and Soobin joined you, you’d try to switch to Korean as quickly as possible, but this time it just didn’t feel right. So you let Ryan talk without pointing out the fact Soobin stood on the side, frowning as he tried to make sense of what he was saying. 

“Who has a boyfriend?” He asks confusedly and when the Korean reaches Ryan’s ears, he switches as well. “It’s just–” he sighs again. “My date from last night. I found out good twenty minutes into the date because guess what, he was the fucking cook in the restaurant and I was just there to make him jealous.” 

You feel sorry for him. This was the first time since he moved to the country that he was brave enough to go on a date with someone and this is how it turned out. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug, rubbing soft circles on the back of his neck instinctively. You don’t even realize you’re doing so but Soobin does, and as soon as he sees you like this with Ryan, something in him boils. No matter how many times he reminds himself he has no right to feel jealous, the emotion creeps up his spine before he can stop it. 

“You can’t blame yourself for how things turned out. You couldn’t have known. Next time will be better. I can help you find–” 

“I’m done with dating. Never was for me anyway,” he interrupts you, pulling back so you let him go and he can stand up. “If it was, I wouldn’t be this way.” His last words hit the hardest but before you can call after him and tell him he’s wrong, he locks himself in his room, leaving you frozen on the couch, feeling as bad for him as you can. 

“I thought girls love musicians. He has a lot of fans, doesn’t he? Surely there is someone who would love him in a way he deserves,” Soobin comments as he prepares his breakfast, scanning your face for any signs that you might be looking to love him in that way. “It’s complicated,” you mumble as you join him, glancing at Ryan’s bedroom door. “I just wish he wouldn’t think so badly of himself.” 

Ryan leaves the apartment as soon as he steps out of his room again to get to his morning lessons on time while you and Soobin watch him from the kitchen. You wish him good luck before he can leave and he smiles slightly but doesn’t say anything else, wanting to be left alone as soon as possible. You don’t blame him, honestly. 

“Should we go as well?” Soobin asks, breaking the silence that’s taken over the apartment. “Yeah, I’m just going to run to the bathroom real quick,” you nod, doing as you said before leaving with Soobin by your side. 

You notice a few girls chatting and giggling while watching you as soon as you step on campus but you don’t pay it much attention, convincing yourself you’re imagining it. It’s not until your third lesson that you share with Jisoo that you find out the looks weren’t just in your head. 

“How could you not tell me?” She questions, offended, as she plops her bag onto the chair beside you. You blink confusedly, turning your head to face her. “Tell you what exactly?” You ask confusedly, watching her sit down. “That you’re dating?” She scans your face for an answer before her eyes widen. “Oh my god, you’re not dating!” She gasps, quickly searching for something on her phone. “I thought that you finally got together! God, I got totally fooled!” 

She hands you her phone and your eyes land on Soobin’s new post. He posted last night, shortly after you made it back home. The first picture is of you and him in the hallway, the picture you made him take before going out. You swipe to look at more, your eyes scanning the photo of the food you had, all laid out on the top of the slide, your figure on the side. The next one is the one with a milkshake. It makes you smile. The last one is of the night sky, all pictures put together under one description: Healing night. 

You bite back your smile, your ears catching red as you open the comments. There are girls calling you pretty, some people asking if this is a hard launch, a few asking where the pictures are from, but a heavy amount of the comments are just people saying how good you look together. 

Your eyes widen and you give Jisoo her phone back, trying to figure out what the right words are. “You’re blushing,” she comments before you get the chance to tell her you’re not dating your best friend. “I’m not,” you argue and she eyes you up and down. “Hm,” she hums as if she just understood your whole. “Have you ever thought about Soobin in a romantic sense?” 

“What? No. He’s my best friend,” you shake your head to refuse but for some reason, the thought flickers in your head. Being with him, going on dates similar to last night, having a partner that knows you like no one else, someone you trust with your life. It’d be nice to have someone who’s already so close to you become something even more. But it’s Soobin you’re thinking about, the same boy who watched you on every step of your childhood since you moved, the same boy who saw all your embarrassing moments and showed you that opposite gender friendships were possible. 

It’s Soobin, the same boy who could never think what you’re thinking about right now, so why does your heart race a bit faster at the image of it? 

“So? That’s not a disease, love,” she reminds you and a part of you questions if she just wants to hear you say you’re in love with your best friends. Unfortunately for her, the answer will be no. You’re not in love with him, even though you’re now stuck with the image of dating him in your head. “I never said it was. I simply never thought about him in that sense.” 

“And are you now?” 

“What?” 

“Are you now thinking about him in that sense?” 

You blink, opening your mouth to protest. No sound comes out and you end up closing it again, which leaves her with a knowing smirk. You scoff, opening your laptop instead as you try to focus on anything else. 

Jisoo doesn’t bring it up anymore, obviously pleased with your answer, or the lack thereof, but that doesn’t mean it just disappears like you wish it would. Throughout the rest of the day, there are a few more girls who come up to you just to ask if you’re dating Soobin and each time, you tell them the same thing. “He’s just my friend, we went out because we live together and no one wanted to cook.” 

Every time you say so, they give you a smirk or giggle in exchange before running off again and you know they don’t believe you. For all know there might be a rumor going around the school already that Soobin, the streamer half of this University watches in their free time, is dating you. 

“No, I’m not dating Choi Soobin, the pictures you’ve seen weren’t from our date,” you sigh automatically when you hear someone clear their throat behind you to get your attention. Your eyes widen when you see Ryan, relief brushing over you. “God, you wouldn’t believe the day that I had.” 

“I’ve heard,” he nods, walking beside you. “I talked to Jisoo earlier, she finds it all amusing.” 

“Of course she does,” you scoff. “She’s been trying to get me to admit my feelings or something.” You tell him about your conversation, leaving out the fact that ever since you found out about it, you’ve been unable to focus on anything other than your best friend. And when you thought about it, you couldn’t even blame them for believing you were together with him. 

“Why don’t you confront him about it?” You frown slightly, fixing your bag strap as it slides off your shoulder. “About what? It’s not like it’s his fault we look like a couple in those pictures.” Ryan shrugs. “Well, that’s true but you could ask him about it, find out what he thinks and all.” 

“No, he’s going to think I’m weird for paying attention to things like that,” you whine, making him roll his eyes at you. “I know you, and I know you’re thinking about him so take a step forward and ask him if he’s thinking about it as well otherwise it’s never going to happen. He’s too big of a coward to say anything.” 

“You don’t make any sense,” you mumble, taking out your keys and unlocking the door when you get to the apartment building. “You say that because apparently I’m the only one with eyes. Do you genuinely not see the way he looks at you?” 

You stop midstep, hitting Ryan with your bag on accident as you turn to face him, blinking confusedly. “What?” He sighs, pushing the door open and taking a step inside when you don’t move. “Just focus on his eyes at dinner,” he says, walking off before you can ask anything else. 

He knows it’s not his place to say anything but honestly, he’s had enough of Soobin’s longing glances you somehow never caught. And if there was the chance you would now look at him the same and he’d have to live watching the two of you pine after each other, he’d much rather just tell you about Soobin’s feelings instead of waiting for him to confess. 

Sitting on your bed with a study sheet opened on your laptop is doing nothing to help you memorize the material and after a few minutes, you end up closing it and giving up. It’s unbelievable how much of an influence just one day can have on your whole thinking. You keep replaying the comments in your head along with Jisoo’s and Ryan’s words. 

And then, before you can stop it, you think about how it’d be like if you did date Soobin. Your gaming leveled up with cuddles, kisses and confessions added to the mornings spent together, dates that leave people feeling jealous because of how great he is to you, the sleepless nights full of need replaced with his comfort, his fingers making you finish faster than your own– 

You quickly shake your head to snap back, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. You were never supposed to think of him that way. 

Making your way out of the room again and almost colliding with Soobin as he tries to go to the bathroom is not ideal since you can’t even look him in the eyes but you hope he doesn’t notice. You’re not ready to explain that you’re avoiding him now because, ever since people started thinking you were dating, you haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about him.

You apologize before running into the kitchen, your eyes screaming for help as soon as Ryan turns to you. He simply laughs and shakes his head, paying attention to the rice he is cooking again. “What? You’ve seen a ghost?” 

“This is all your fault!” You complain. “You messed with my head. You and Jisoo both did.” 

“Oh no, is this the part where you realize he is also a man and has a dick he can use?” Your cheeks turn red but thankfully you can stop before your imagination goes wild. “Shut up! He literally lives here!” You whisper yell at him, checking if he’s still in the bathroom and can’t hear you. “You didn’t deny it,” he points out immediately, turning off the heat. 

“I hate you.” 

“You love me,” he corrects with a smirk, making you roll your eyes. “I’m never speaking to him again and it’s your fault, just so you know.” 

“Who aren’t you talking to?” Soobin’s voice makes you close your eyes in regret. “No one, doesn’t matter,” you brush it off, hoping he’ll leave it at that. To your luck, he walks closer to you instead and eyes you up and down. “Are you okay?” He asks, the worry in his voice hitting you. His eyes look broken as well, something deeper behind them. This all because of you? You swallow, smiling at him as you nod, assuring him it’s all good. 

“The dinner–” you start but Ryan interrupts you by clearing his throat, giving you one stern look. “Is going to take a bit longer and Ryan said he’ll take care of it, so can we talk?” You ask even though every part of your body tells you to do the exact opposite and run away as far as you can from this conversation. Preferably pretend you never got yourself into this situation. 

“Of course,” he nods, glancing at Ryan quickly as if to ask if anything was going on. He just gives him a reassuring smile and encourages for the two of you to leave. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? What’s going on?” 

“Let’s sit down,” you say, shaking your head and following him to his bedroom. You make yourself comfortable on his bed while he sits down on his gaming chair, trying to read through you and see what you’re thinking. He stays silent, giving you all the time you need and simply watching you. That’s when you notice it, the look in his eyes Ryan mentioned. There’s something—something you can’t quite name, that makes you feel at home. You weren’t sure what love looked like but you could imagine it being pretty damn close to what you see in his eyes. 

“The photos from last night are really pretty, I’m still waiting for you to send them over,” you start, carefully observing him. “Right, sorry, I completely forgot,” he apologizes, taking out his phone without any hesitation. Your own rings in your pocket and you assume it’s the pictures. “Thank you,” you mumble, playing with your fingers in your lap awkwardly. “No problem.” 

“We should…do it again. I had fun. It reminded me of a lot of memories,” you keep your eyes down but you can still feel his gaze on you as he tries to read you. You’re sure he sees through you but you can’t bring yourself to actually ask what’s on your mind. “I’ve been listening to the playlist as well, it needs an update.” 

He hums, his eyes never leaving yours. “The Shade, Rex Orange County.” 

“What?” 

“You should add that to our playlist,” he explains. 

“What is it about?” 

“Listen and see,” he smiles warmly and you roll your eyes in disbelief. The room gets quiet again and you bite the inside of your cheek so you won’t say something stupid. He shifts in his place, sighing. “If you tell me what’s bothering you it’ll be a lot easier for me to help.” 

You hesitate before sighing as well. “Do you ever read comments under your posts?” You ask, watching his eyes widen. Yeah, he definitely knows what you’re talking about. “Sometimes, I guess,” he says, trying to sound calm. You hum. “The pictures from yesterday…” you trail off, rethinking your words. “A lot of people asked if we are together, and that we’d look good as a couple. Some people asked me about it today as well,” you admit. 

“The fans get like that,” he mumbles, averting his eyes from you. “They keep trying to find anything about my personal life they can. You don’t need to pay much attention to it. After all, they ship me and Beomgyu as well,” he laughs awkwardly and you catch the slight discomfort in his voice. “It’s just what comes with the job.” 

You listen to him, keeping quiet and taking in his words. Maybe he was right. It was just how fans get, what happens when you decide to put yourself out there for the world to judge, but if what you caught in his eyes was anywhere close to what you thought, you couldn’t just drop it. 

“So you never thought about…us? Together?” You ask quietly, your heart skipping a beat when his eyes lock with yours again and you see the flicker of emotion behind them again. It definitely wasn’t just in your head. Something like an attraction was hiding in his eyes and you felt stupid for not noticing earlier. 

Soobin doesn’t answer right away. You can see his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers tighten slightly around the hem of his sleeve like he’s bracing himself. “I did,” he admits and for a second you feel like your heart stops beating. “But that’s just stupid, right? It’s nothing, doesn’t mean anything. The fans got into my head and I’m talking nonsense, forget it,” he blurts out so quickly you almost don’t understand anything. 

“Soobin, calm down.” He looks at you, vulnerable, and you fight the urge to get up and swallow him in a breath-taking hug. “I’m not saying it’s…wrong, or stupid.” 

“I’m sorry. Forget about it, really. I’m so, so, so sorry.” A part of you breaks when you see him like this, looking like he convinced himself thinking about you in that sense was wrong, that he wasn’t allowed to. It hurts you to see someone so important to you blame himself for something he doesn’t need to because of you. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you assure him, slowly getting up from his bed and walking over to him. You kneel in front of him and hold his hands in yours so he keeps his eyes on you. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind if you did think about me that way,” you smile slightly, looking up at him through your lashes. “Maybe I’d like that.” 

His hands squeeze yours without even realizing, his breath shaking as he comprehends your words. He doesn’t say anything, barely even blinks, out of fear that if he moves even just slightly, you’ll disappear and he realizes it’s all just a dream. 

But you stay, holding his hands as if it’s the most normal thing in the world and there’s nothing to worry about. He exhales quietly, finally closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel. The warmth of your hands, your soft voice as you assure him you’re there and real, and the scent of you that he is convinced he can never get enough of. 

“In that case, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.” 

Dinner was quiet that night. Ryan tried to ask you how it went and if you’re with him now, but you just brushed him off, stealing glances and smiles from Soobin the whole evening. It was a bit awkward and new, but you didn’t mind. Just knowing you weren’t the only one thinking about it was enough for now. 

You decided to watch a movie with Ryan when you were done eating and even though your attention was now on the movie options, you noticed Soobin’s glare before he disappeared back into his room without another word. It made you blink a few times, almost as if to see you weren’t imagining it. When you averted your eyes from the now closed door, Ryan didn’t forget to mention you were blushing. 

And so, you spent the whole night thinking about what was going to happen now. Would anything really change? Honestly, you wanted it to. For some reason, after hearing your best friend has been in love with you for almost as long as you’ve known him, had a bigger impact on you than you thought it would. And after dreaming of holding his hand and kissing him the whole night, you wanted nothing more than to do so in the morning. 

Soobin and Ryan are already in the kitchen when you wake up and make your way over, sharing a warm smile with them and a quiet “good morning.” Ryan answers you first, greeting you before running off to the bathroom, saying something about being late. Bullshit. Still, you let him do whatever he wants and walk closer to Soobin, your smile more cautious now as you try to see where the line lies. 

Soobin looks at you the same, wary but happy. He leans against the kitchen counter, his eyes flickering to where Ryan just disappeared before landing back on you. You raise your eyebrow, stopping in front of him. You hold his hands carefully, searching for any sight of discomfort before you bring his hands to your waist, leaving them there. The emotion behind his eyes switches immediately, now way more calm and soft. “Good morning,” he greets you, squeezing your waist lightly to make sure it’s real. 

“Slept well?” You ask, gently placing your hands on his biceps. “Yeah,” he nods, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You smile, stroking his arm in a reassuring motion. “What were you planning on getting for breakfast? I’m starving.” He quickly blinks before letting his hands fall back to his side when you switch conversation, making you shake your head. You don’t push him though, watching him as he moves around the kitchen to prepare one more toast for you. 

You grab the plate from him with a “thank you,” when he’s done and jump up onto the counter, encouraging him to come closer to you. He listens, standing between your thighs. You put the plate beside you and cup his face, your breath shaking as your eyes flicker from his to his lips. 

“You can touch me, Soob. It’s okay.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he holds your waist again, careful, like he’s afraid to break you. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You won’t,” you assure him gently. “I’ve known you for so long there’s no way you could make me uncomfortable with some physical touch. Hug me, hold me,” you lean closer to him, lips brushing over his ear, “kiss me, ask me on dates, do whatever you want, baby.” 

Soobin shivers under your touch, your words messing with his head more than they should. His breath hitches and his grip on your waist tightens to steady himself. The nickname rings in his ears and his neck turns pink, slowly raising his head to look at you. “Can you say it again?” 

Your smile widens and you brush your thumb across his cheek. “Baby?” You tease him, watching his reactions. “Oh, god, who would have guessed you’d get this cute for me?” 

He blushes, trying not to think much about your words. It was embarrassing. “You need to give me time to adjust. I’ve never…you know I haven’t been with anyone before.” Your eyes widen in realization, “because you were in love with me?” 

He nods hesitantly. “I am. Present tense.” Your hands fall to his shoulders, punching him with your fist gently (it’s more like a caress) as your head drops to his shoulder as well, hiding your face from him. “You can’t do this, that’s not fair,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to get yourself to stop blushing. 

Soobin turns his head slightly to look at you, his breathing uneven as he watches you from so up close. It’s a sight he thought he could only dream about. His hand moves from your waist to your lower back, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. It’s partly to calm you down even though he thinks it’s not going to work, but mostly for himself. He needs to feel you under his hand, know that you’re real and this is now his reality. Because, god, does it feel like a dream. 

You raise your head again, gazing into his eyes. You both hesitate and his hand stops mid movement as he looks at you. He gives you a small nod and you lean closer, pressing your lips against his gently. He kisses you back, even though you can feel how much he’s thinking it all through. You smile into the kiss and just that simple motion is enough to calm him down and allow himself to enjoy it, his lips soft against yours. 

When he pulls back, he looks like you’ve just handed him the stars he thought he could never reach. 

You leave the apartment first, rushing to get to your first lesson with the kiss still lingering in the back of your mind, the feeling of his lips against yours vivid. There’s a smile on your face when you get to class and it takes all your strength to make yourself focus on the new material instead of your best friend. 

Jisoo notices the change as soon as she sees you. Obviously. She smirks as her eyes scan you, trying to figure out what it is that’s different. “You look overly happy,” she says and your grin widens. “I am,” you nod. “What’s the occasion?” 

“I may or may not have kissed someone this morning,” you admit and her eyes widen immediately. “Oh my gosh!” She exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer so others won’t hear your conversation. “It’s Soobin, isn’t it? Please tell me it’s him.” You laugh, nodding, and she squeezes your hand in excitement. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’ve been secretly cheering you two on ever since I saw how he looked at you when we were little.” 

Your eyes widen. “Has everyone always seen it except for me?!” You whisper yell, questioning how you could be so blind for all those years. “Ryan pointed it out as well.” 

“And that’s exactly why I always loved Ryan,” Jisoo giggles. “And? What else? I need to hear everything!” You chuckle, briefly looking around before turning back to her again and telling her about everything. From the way your mind went crazy after she asked you if you’ve ever thought about him in a romantic sense to this point, repeating how cute he is over and over again. 

That’s when you realize the saying “speak of the devil and he shall appear” is very true. Because at the same time, your phone starts ringing, lighting up with Soobin’s contact info and making the flutter in your stomach return. Your eyes soften immediately and you give Jisoo one apologetic look before picking up. 

“Yes?” You ask softly, already smiling. 

“Hi,” his voice is soft even through the phone. 

“What’s up? Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, all good. You’re free for an hour at 12, right?” You blink and nod, for a second forgetting he can’t see you. “I do, I was planning on having lunch then.” 

There’s a short pause but you don’t rush him, calmly waiting for his answer while listening to the faint rustle of movement on his end. 

“Would it be weird if I asked to join you? Wait, no, I mean,” the slight panic in his voice makes you chuckle. He’s cute. “Can I take you out for lunch? Is what I wanted to ask,” he sighs, the relief obvious. 

You bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from smiling like an idiot, briefly glancing at Jisoo. She already has one of her warm smiles on, cheering you on from the side. “Of course you can,” you nod. “That would be great, actually.” 

“Okay, yeah,” he says, voice softening, calm. “What about the restaurant near the library? Yeonjun said that one is pretty good, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Let’s go there,” you agree. There’s another pause, this one comfortable. “Okay,” he repeats, a bit awkward. “I’ll meet you there then?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll see you there.” 

“You’re so sickening, it’s cute,” Jisoo shakes her head with a laugh. You roll your eyes at her but don’t argue. “I hope it works out for you, genuinely. Soobin is nice and we both know he’d go out of his way to take care of you.” You smile sheepishly, your cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, but I’m still worried to fuck it up,” you admit. “We are best friends, we’ve always been.” 

“And that’s not going to change,” she assures you. “He’ll always be your best friend first, but if you’ll let him, I’m sure he’ll gladly take on the job of your boyfriend as well. You’re not going to ruin anything.” 

You nod, taking in her words. She’s right, you know she is. Deep down you know that no matter what, there was nothing that could make you stop being friends with him, but you were scared nonetheless. You never hesitated when it came to relationships, believing that you were either meant to be or not and there was nothing you could do about it, but with Soobin, you didn’t want to risk the second option. 

Jisoo seems to see right through you because she spends most of your lesson talking to you about how amazing Soobin is (as if you didn’t already know that) and how you were going to be even more inseparable as a couple, wishing you all the luck in the world. It seizes your worries, which you’re thankful to her for. 

The restaurant is quiet to your surprise. You expected it to be messy during lunch hour but even though the place is full, it’s calm and cozy. Your eyes fall on your best friend as soon as you step inside, a smile creeping up your lips as you walk to the table for two. “Hi,” you greet him, taking a seat across from him. He smiles back at you, making your heart race faster. “Hey.” 

“Did you already order something?” You ask, immediately regretting how awkward you sound. Was this how it was going to be with him from now on? “No. Waited for you,” he says, pretending to scan the menu. He doesn’t do too well because you catch his eyes on you, stealing glances as if you were still something he could only dream of. 

“What is it?” You wonder, a smile spreading across your face. You feel like a fresh teen experiencing her first summer romance. Maybe that was what you and Soobin were supposed to be a long time ago—teenagers in love who no one believed would last but they pulled through anyway. You could imagine it. Sharing your first kiss with him, spending all those Christmases together as something more than just friends, going on a bunch of dates and thinking you could never be more in love. 

“You’re pretty,” he says casually, watching as your cheeks turn pink under his words. “You don’t have to say things like that,” you shake your head even though you wish he would tell you a lot more. “I want to. I wanted to tell you so many times over the years but always held myself back. And now that I have the opportunity…I want to tell you as many times as I can.” 

Yeah, Choi Soobin knew how to mess with your heart. 

You feel hotter, knowing your ears must be red now as well. “You…” you swallow the rest of your sentence when your eyes lock with his, every word you’ve ever learnt disappearing from your brain. You were in trouble. You avert your eyes, ignoring the tingly feeling in your stomach and focusing on the menu on the table. 

He doesn’t say anything else, his own heart playing games with him as silence settles over the two of you. He isn’t as secretive with his glances now but still tries to keep them low, not wanting to seem like a creep but unable to help himself. He watches you order, talk about an assignment for one of your classes and a new movie that just came out. He doesn’t hesitate asking you if you want to watch it with him tonight, and you don’t waver with your answer either, saying you’d love to do that. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize suddenly, making him raise his eyebrow in confusion as he sips on his coke. “What for?” 

“Not seeing you sooner.” It hits like a dagger but he still shakes his head, setting the glass down. “That’s not something you can control.” You gaze down onto the table, rethinking your words. “I just… You’ve always been so good to me,” your eyes meet his and his heart shatters when he sees the regret and shame behind them. It wasn’t often that he’d see you be this vulnerable. Of course, there were moments in your life that were worse, and he was there for all of them, but knowing he was the reason for your feelings broke him more than rejection ever could. 

“And I will continue being good to you,” he assures you before you can continue. “I can’t imagine the feeling of… why did you keep liking me? You’ve seen my worst, have been the target of my jokes and I’ve never even looked your way like that, it–” 

“You’re smart, so incredibly smart you learned a new language when you were ten just because you wanted your dad to have the job he always wanted, despite the fact you missed your friends and hometown. You care about people and make them feel welcome around you, always doing your best to be nice to everyone unless they’ve done something. You’re confident, funny, talented, and absolutely beautiful,” he says without any hesitation, his words pure, full of sincerity, and it feels like he heals a part of you you didn’t know was broken. “But most importantly, you bring out the best of me. You make me come out of my shell, you help me when I’m lost, and you never for a second doubt me. I don’t think there’s a reason why I wouldn’t have fallen for you.” 

Your grip tightens around your own glass of soda, his words ringing in your ears over and over again. You couldn’t recall a single time any of your exes would have said anything just remotely close to what he just did. He’s been there all along, so perfect and in love with you, and still, you managed to look through him. 

His hand reaches for yours from across the table, giving it a gentle squeeze so you look up at him. When you do, there’s a smile on his face, the same one you’ve only seen him give you over the years—a smile meant just for you. 

It’s the same smile that makes you realize the past isn’t what’s important right now. It’s the fact you’re here now, on a date with your best friend, finally seeing him. And you plan on making the most out of it. 

Once you both finish eating, it’s only a matter of time before you leave. Soobin offers to pay for your meal and you let him, lacing your fingers with his as you step outside. You don’t need to say more, falling into a soft rhythm as you walk through campus hand in hand. It feels nice. And every little smile exchange makes you look forward to how this is going to continue. 

“Come closer,” you urge, eyeing Soobin up and down as he sits down a full seat over on the couch. He turns his head to face you, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Still, he listens, moving to sit right beside you, his arm draping around your shoulders when you lean to rest on his side. “What did I tell you? You don’t have to hold back,” you tilt your head slightly to look at him and he nods. “It’ll be better after a few days.” 

It’s a quiet promise that makes you smile. You turn your attention back to the Tv as the first episode of jujutsu kaisen starts playing. After getting back home, you’ve all eaten dinner together and then Ryan disappeared off to his room with his nose basically pressed to his phone. You wanted to question him about it but before you could, Soobin’s hand gently rested around your waist and he asked if you wanted to watch the movie you mentioned earlier. You had no choice but to leave Ryan’s mysteries for another day. 

Once the movie was over and half of the snacks you brought for it were eaten, Soobin begged you to rewatch jujutsu kaisen with him, claiming that it was life changing. You realized at that moment, you can’t say no to him. 

So now, you were stuck by his side, watching a show about a teenager eating fingers instead of going to school. 

“Have you ever thought about the fact you and Beomgyu are like Itadori and Megumi?” You wonder, snacking on a bag of chips while watching the two interact. Soobin raises an eyebrow. “Who am I supposed to be in this incredibly wrong scenario?” He sounds almost offended and you have to sit up because of how oblivious he is. Funny, isn’t it? 

“Megumi, obviously.” 

He scoffs, glancing at the screen. “Megumi is the most boring character there is.” Your eyes widen. Now it’s you who is offended. “He’s my favorite,” there’s a small pout on your lips that makes Soobin close his mouth immediately, slowly regretting ever saying anything. “He reminds me of you.” 

He opens his mouth before shutting it again, realizing there isn’t much to save the situation. Megumi really wasn’t his favorite, but what was he supposed to do when you said you liked him because he reminded you of him? “I’d rather you be Itadori then,” he mumbles. 

Your eyes light up again, a winning smirk spread across your face. You move to lay on him again so you can continue watching, this time resting your head in his lap and occupying the rest of the couch with your legs. He blinks a few times, just watching you for a second before brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, carefully caressing your head and playing with your hair, slowly shifting his attention to the show playing. 

He’s not sure when you manage to fall asleep but when he looks at you to ask about what you think of the fight scene happening, he sees your eyes closed and lips slightly parted, your breathing steady. He smiles, lowering the volume of the Tv before grabbing his phone and sending a quick text to Ryan, asking him to bring a blanket over since he can’t stand up right now. 

“She fell asleep?” Ryan wonders as he comes out of his room, phone in one hand, the other carrying the blanket. Soobin turns his head to face him, nodding. “Yeah. Thanks, I would have gotten it myself but I don’t want to wake her up.”

 “All good,” he shakes his head, lingering a little longer than probably necessary, eyeing the two of you on the couch, simply just happy that this is how you get to spend your evenings from now on. Soobin notices, raising his eyebrow confusedly. “Do you have a problem with anything?” His words come out harsher than expected, making Ryan’s eyes widen. 

“Why would I have a problem with anything?” 

“Don’t know. Maybe you’re jealous,” I would be. He doesn’t finish the sentence, he doesn’t need to because Ryan is already pressing a hand in front of his mouth in order to not wake you up with his laugh. “It looks like you’re the one being jealous,” he laughs, glancing from Soobin to your sleeping form again. He thinks of it as a joke, convinced there’s no way Soobin would actually think he’s being jealous over him, but as his eyes scan his expression, he figures that’s not the case. 

“And you’re completely serious right now,” his eyes widening at the realization. “God, you think we have anything going on between us? I was the one who helped her figure out the possibility of being with you.” 

Soobin doesn’t say anything, just watching him, observing. He doesn’t understand. Ryan was possibly the only other boy who’s seen parts of you you didn’t show to other people, the same parts he fell in love with. He saw you in your prettiest dress and even though Soobin was too gagged to look anywhere but on you, he just assumed Ryan looked at you the same way. Because to him, it was crazy that any boy wouldn’t want you. 

Ryan hesitates for a second, rethinking the whole situation before sighing. “Really, there is absolutely nothing you have to worry about when it comes to us. There’s a better chance of Jisoo getting with her before I do.” Soobin’s expression doesn’t change and so he continues. “Remember my last date?” The question makes Soobin frown, unsure what that has to do with anything. 

“A boy,” he admits, his heart feeling heavier as he puts himself out there. “But I’m not–” his throat tightens when the words come out. Except for you, there was no one else he’s told. No one who he would trust enough to share the information with. “No one else knows so don’t–” 

“I won’t,” Soobin assures him quickly when he catches the change in his tone of voice, his built up jealousy and insecurity slowly fading away as he realizes how incredibly wrong he’s been all along. Of course, that’s why you said it was complicated when he asked if there weren’t a bunch of girls who liked him. He feels stupid. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s…whatever,” he mumbles, suddenly awkward. He needs to get away as soon as possible. “If anything just…text me again, I guess.” Soobin opens his mouth to answer but before he can do so, Ryan is already on his way back to his room, not looking back again. Soobin sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks down on you. “I’m an idiot, huh?” He mumbles, beginning to play with your hair gently again. “Petty, jealous, idiot.” 

You hum in your sleep, shifting slightly which only makes him chuckle. “Looks like you agree.” 

Your neck hurts when you stir awake. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, whining quietly. Blinking a few times, you get your eyes to focus again. They widen immediately when you see Soobin’s head resting against the back of the couch, sleeping. You turn to the side, the Tv turned off already and the coffee table just like you left it before falling asleep—full of half eaten snacks and empty bags. You slowly sit up, careful not to wake him up. He looks peaceful, his lips parted, a bit of saliva rolling down his chin. You chuckle. He’s cute. 

You clean up the mess on the table, humming quietly to a song currently playing in your head. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep for but when you’re done with everything and check your phone, it’s already two am. 

You come back to the couch, gently pressing your hand on Soobin’s shoulder. “Binnie,” you coo softly, watching him hum in his sleep as he shifts slightly. You smile, you never stop smiling when you’re with him. “You should sleep in your bed,” you say, hoping to wake him up. His eyes open for a second but you’re not sure if he even sees you because they close immediately after, his hand finding yours almost on an instinct. You yelp in surprise when he pulls you closer and you fall on to his lap. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you. You doubt if he even knows what he’s doing. 

Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing. That might be the better scenario. 

“Soobin,” you coo again, kissing his cheek gently. “Let’s go to bed. This can’t be comfortable.” You kiss his nose, then forehead, gently squeezing his shoulder again. This time, it actually works and he opens his eyes, blinking a few times to make sense of the situation. “What’s going…” Before he can finish his question, you place another kiss on his forehead. “Let’s go to bed, it’s late.” 

“Will you stay with me?” He asks, his voice a bit hoarse from the sleep. Your eyes widen in surprise, just for a second, before they soften. You cup his cheek, smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I will,” you nod. His grip tightens around your waist, his head falling to your shoulder as he inhales your scent. 

If this is how he gets every time he is sleepy, you hope he never gets the rest he deserves. 

“Come on,” you get up, holding his hand as you force him up on his feet as well. His fingers lace with yours, following you tiredly as you guide the way to his room. He accidentally kicks the couch on his way but you don’t say anything, chuckling quietly. 

“I’ll change to my pajamas and will be right back, okay?” You turn to him when you reach his room. He nods slowly, his hand falling back to his side. He opens the door, lingering for a second. “You’ll come, right?” You smile again, assuring him you will before leaving to your own room. 

When you get to Soobin’s room again, he’s sitting on his bed in his pajamas. “Aren’t you tired?” You ask, closing the door behind you. He looks up, extending his arms towards you to come in. “Yeah, but I was waiting for you.” You close the gap between you, standing between his legs as his arms settle on your thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh. He looks up at you and your heart immediately skips a beat. “You’re pretty,” he mumbles, his hand carefully sliding up to the hem of your shorts. You blush at his words, “I didn’t know you were so needy when you’re tired,” you whisper, chuckling. 

He hums, and when his hands move to your ass, you sit on his lap again, running a hand through his hair. “When I told you to be like this earlier you couldn’t even look me in the eyes,” you tease him and he just grumbles. “What is it, baby?” 

“You’re here,” is all he says before kissing your jaw. “I don’t want to hold back when you’re right here.” His words echo in your ears and without a second of hesitation, you kiss him. He leans back with you, his arms resting on your waist as he lays down, his back pressed against the mattress. “Just for the night,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Let me want you a bit more.” 

Your breath shakes as you grind on top of him, looking for any sign of discomfort. A soft, shaky whine escapes his lips and his grip tightens. “Is this okay?” He nods, his eyes closed, refusing to look at you. “Soobin,” you whisper, feeling him harden under you as you grind once more. “Look at me.” 

His eyes flutter open, scanning your face carefully before his gaze drops to where your bodies meet. “Is this okay?” You ask once more, this time getting a proper response. “More than okay,” he assures you, watching you move on top of him. His breathing is anything but steady, his eyes glued to your body as if you’d disappear if he even just as blinked. “I don’t–” his voice breaks in half when you sit directly on his tip, your shorts clinging to your body as you rub yourself on top of him. “I’m not sure what to do.” 

“It’s okay,” you nod, understanding. “You don’t have to do anything. Let’s just feel good, hm?” He nods, his hands carefully sliding up your thighs. He can do that. He can stop overthinking it and just enjoy the moment, as long as he’s with you. 

His hands slowly wander under your shirt, keeping his eyes on you to check if he’s not overstepping as he cups your breast. You bite your bottom lip, nodding slightly to him. You let him squeeze your breast, let him explore what his touch does to you. He watches every reaction, every muffled moan that leaves your lips, and every move of your hips. You never stop rubbing yourself on him and with each passing second, he feels like he is about to explode. 

Leaning down again, you crash your lips with his in a hungry kiss. He doesn’t hesitate kissing you back and pulling you closer, if that’s even possible. He thrusts his hips up on instinct, a soft whimper escaping his lips. “Wai– Wait, fuck,” he curses, looking at his wet pants and your shorts. Mistake, he realizes. Seeing the mess you managed to create already only makes it harder for him not to cum in his pants. 

You slide your hand under his shirt, tracing the line of his abs slowly before moving down to his waistband, glancing up at him for approval. “Please,” he nods, prompting himself up on his elbows as he watches you. You move aside, biting your bottom lip as you give his hard on a squeeze through the pants before pulling them down. Fuck. Soobin was tall, you knew that, of course, but you didn’t expect him to be packing down there so much as well. 

“Have you thought about me before? While jerking off?” You watch his ears turn red, figuring that’s a yes. You squeeze your thighs together, eyes flickering between his cock, abs, and face. In the ideal world, you could ride all of them. “Want to show me?” 

Soobin sits with his eyes glued to your body, his right hand wrapped around his cock, moving up and down in slow motion. You sit opposite him, your legs spread apart, pajama clothes somewhere on the floor, long forgotten by then, and your chest on full display. “What else did you think about?” You ask, watching his eyes scan your naked body. 

His eyes fall down to your fingers on your clit, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I– Your boobs,” he admits slowly, avoiding looking you in the eyes from embarrassment. “Kissing them, holding them, uhm,” he bites down his moan as the image clouds his mind, his cock twitching in his hand and breath shaking. “About how you’d look if…if we were…” 

“Yeah?” You can see that he’s close to finishing, barely able to speak without moaning or whimpering. It was hot. 

“My imagination has nothing on reality,” he mumbles, curses slipping past his lips as he watches you finger yourself, his hips thrusting into his hand with more force than before. You smirk, “that good?” He nods, opening his mouth to say something, but before he can do so, you pull out your fingers and bring them to his mouth. 

He knows he should feel embarrassed. He probably looks like a teenage boy who’s never touched a woman in his life—which he wouldn’t be far from actually—when he reaches his orgasm as soon as his lips wrap around your fingers, but he can’t seem to care. Not when you taste this good, not when you’re looking at him as if it was the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Can I..?” He asks with the biggest puppy eyes possible and even though you don’t know what he’s asking for, you nod. He moves closer to you, spreading your legs more before his hand caresses your thighs, slowly making his way to your core. His fingers replace yours, rubbing your clit the same way he watched you do so moments ago. You moan under his touch, guiding his hand lower and giving him a reassuring nod before he inserts two of his fingers into your hole. His fingers are longer than yours, without a doubt, and it shows. “Just like that, fuck, exactly there,” your eyes roll back when he hits your spot, listening to your moans as he pumps his fingers into you. 

Soobin closes the distance between you, his free hand cupping your cheek as he kisses you again while his other hand brings you to your orgasm, muffling every one of your moans with his lips. “Was that okay?” He asks, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You giggle, your breathing heavy as you press your forehead to his. “You’re doing amazing,” you nod. “Absolutely fucking amazing.” 

He giggles with you, exhaling in relief. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and kisses you again, this time with less need but much more affection, hoping you can feel all the years he’s spent loving you from afar coming up on the surface. 

The following days became easier. You watched the nervousness and wariness in his eyes slowly change into something comfortable and familiar. He stopped being so hesitant, greeting you with a kiss every morning as if you were an old couple, holding your hand when you walked around campus, and taking you out on dates any chance he got. It was nice, and you could feel your heart skipping a beat every time his gaze lingered on you even a second longer than necessary. 

You could see yourself growing old with those eyes. 

“What are you hiding?” Soobin comes into the kitchen just as you’re leaning over the counter, a teasing grin on your face and Ryan a few steps beside you, smiling at his phone. He could recognize that smile from miles away, it was the same one he had for years on his face when he talked to you. 

“I’m not hiding anything,” he says, way too quickly to your liking. “You’re trying to see things where they’re not.” 

“What’s going on?” Soobin asks, wrapping his arm around your waist. You straighten your back and he immediately rests his head on your shoulder, watching Ryan with a spark of curiosity. His eyes flicker between the two of you, hating that it was so easy for you to see right through him. “Nothing’s going on, alright? Can’t I text people?” 

You frown. “I never said you can’t. But you’ve been texting someone for ages and it makes me wonder why you haven’t told me anything about it.” Soobin can almost hear the pout in your voice and places a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Because I told you I’m not dating again. It’s just a friend, and I don’t see a reason why I should tell you I have a new friend.” 

“You don’t have to close yourself off for everyone because one date didn’t go right,” Soobin meets his eyes and Ryan swallows everything he wanted to say when he hits a soft spot. This was nowhere close to how he wanted his evening to look like. “Didn’t you say you were going to stream tonight?” The question comes out harsher than intended but before he can apologize, Soobin nods slightly. “Yeah, I am,” he agrees, giving Ryan one last look of sympathy before turning to you. “Want to join me?” 

You blink, glancing between your two roommates. You want to stay, ask Ryan more and assure him that whatever he set his mind on is stupid, but you can see how tired he is of this conversation. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore and you know when to stop minding other people’s business, even if they’re your best friend. “Yeah, sure, let’s go,” you nod. Soobin catches the sigh that leaves your lips but doesn’t comment on it, lacing his fingers with yours instead and leading you to his room. 

“You can’t be mad at him for keeping in,” Soobin says, sitting down on his gaming chair and extending his arms for you to come in. You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you stand between his legs. “I know, and I’m not. I just… I don’t want him to deal with everything on his own.” His hands slide up the back of your thighs, a pitiful smile on his lips. 

“I’ll talk to him later, okay? Maybe he’ll tell me something,” he offers, bringing your hand to his face and kissing your knuckles. “Don’t beat yourself over it. He’ll tell you about it when he’s ready.” 

You nod, sitting on his lap with your hands on his shoulder. “Have I told you you’re absolutely amazing yet?” He chuckles, closing the space between you and pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. “You can tell me that as many times you want,” he smiles into the kiss, a soft giggle escaping your lips. 

“What’s the plan tonight?” You wonder when you pull back. He turns on the chair, his arm wrapped around your waist as he turns his PC on. When he types in his password and you notice it being your birthday, you can’t help but smile, your cheeks turning pink as you lean into his chest. “Phasmophobia,” he says, showing you the game. You watch his screen as he explains some of the rules of the game with the gameplay, nodding quietly. You let him talk, listening to his every word. It’s honestly attractive. It’s not like he’s doing much, but it’s enough. 

“Yeonjun hasn’t played it yet and we were thinking of texting Kai to join us but if you want, we can connect your laptop and you could play with us instead?” He turns his head to you, his face mare inches away from yours. You blink, shaking your head, “you said you haven’t played with Kai in a long time, you shouldn’t exclude him just because of me.” 

“I want to play with you,” he states firmly. “You should know by now I’d choose you over the boys any time.” If you were blushing before, you must look like a tomato right now. Before he can say anything else and send you into a spiral, you kiss him again, your hand on his neck as you pull him close. He doesn’t take long to catch up, pushing his tongue between your lips and deepening the kiss, his fingers digging into your waist. “You’re too good to me,” you whisper. 

“You’re the one too good to me. I’m just treating you as anyone you’ve ever given a chance to should have.” 

“You should be a poet instead,” you mumble, averting your gaze from him. You know he’s about to say something more, but he’s interrupted by an incoming call on discord, the screen flashing with The Choi’s group chat. Thank God, honestly. Whatever he wanted to say would probably make your heart race faster than it already does and you don’t need a heart attack right now. 

You accept the call, the first thing you hear being Beomgyu’s grumble. “We’ll have to use walkie talkies in the game, why are we starting a call here?” Soobin chuckles quietly, leaning forward and resting his chin on your shoulder, clicking through something on his screen. “He’s new to the game, cut him some slack,” he says and you catch a faint curse on the other side, assuming it must be from Yeonjun. 

“Whatever, who cares. Is everyone ready now? Can I text Kai? He might be asleep though, he said something about pulling an all-nighter the night before and feeling like passing out when I talked to him earlier.” As soon as Yeonjun finishes his question, Soobin turns his head to look at you again, looking for an answer in your eyes. You nod slightly, his smile widening immediately. 

“Don’t bother. I have our fourth player. She’s sitting on my lap as we speak.” 

It wasn’t a secret to any of your friends that you and Soobin were something now. Apparently, they knew so even before you did. Soobin looked terrified when Beomgyu told you a few days ago that he’s glad he finally had the balls to ask you out because it was getting annoying having to listen to him enthuse about how in love with you he was. All you could do at the moment was laugh. Then, after Beomgyu left, you showered Soobin in kisses on his bed and he promised to tell you how in love he is more often if that’s what he gets in return. He was adorable. 

The two boys greet you immediately, asking about how your day was and if Soobin is being annoying. It makes you chuckle because he is anything but. You talk with them for a bit, Soobin’s hands still wrapped around you and hugging you tightly. You love moments like these. 

You’re not sure how much time passes but eventually, you leave to get your laptop while Soobin prepares his stream, his camera and microphone already on when you come back. You place the laptop on his bed—which is also the place you agreed on sitting before even though it wasn’t exactly ideal to be in the same room while using walkie talkies—and join his side, greeting his chat with a smile. 

In the blink of an eye, the comments change from simple hello’s and questions about what the plane for today is into more personal ones—mostly about your relationship. A few people ask about your name, new fans you assume, but most of the people are asking if the rumors are true and you truly are dating. It was kind of obvious by now. Just a few days earlier, Soobin made a new post on his instagram with pictures from an actual date you had. They were cute, and made it into your highlights as well. 

He turns his head to you, not answering any of their questions. A sign of the same vulnerability you saw almost every day at the beginning flickers in his eyes, the question hanging in the air. You know which one made him like this. Are you two dating? You haven’t put a label on anything, didn’t think it was needed, but when your eyes meet his, and you see the hope in them, you want a label more than ever before. 

You smile, a gentle, soft one that always makes him calmer and turn towards the camera. “You got us,” you nod. “We are dating. But no, he does not fall into the streamer stereotypes and does shower every day, so I’m not in any danger,” you laugh, briefly glancing at Soobin. He looks puzzled, but his expression lasts less than a second, immediately being replaced with excitement and a hint of relief. 

“Wouldn’t want to stink near my beautiful girlfriend,” he grins and you have to roll your eyes at how cheeky he sounds. You shake your head at him, but the smile on your face never disappears. “Get your game ready, pretty boy. I don’t have the whole night for you.” He cocks his head to you, a teasing smirk on his face as he mouths “you sure?” at you. You fight the urge to throw a pillow at him. 

“What on Earth are they doing?” You laugh, watching Beomgyu and Yeonjun move their characters in the lobby, getting into some weird positions they definitely wouldn’t be able to recreate in real life. Soobin laughs with you, shaking his head. He was playing around with settings now, trying to convince you to go on pro mode. Neither Yeonjun nor you knew if that was something you wanted to jump into but thankfully (or possibly unfortunately) you had Beomgyu on your side, arguing with Soobin immediately that you weren’t ready and it would end up with him being alive alone again. 

“Everyone get ready,” Soobin commands, your earlier laugh replaced with a chuckle immediately. “Yes, captain,” you joke, and even though you see him rolling his eyes, you also notice the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. 

Soobin helps you out during the game a lot, always walking around beside you so you don’t stay anywhere alone and don’t get yourself killed, reminding you what certain keys do, and working with you on figuring out what kind of a ghost you’re dealing with. Anyone new joining his stream probably doesn’t even know Beomgyu and Yeonjun are in the game as well. You barely know of their presence yourself. 

After three successful rounds, Soobin finally convinced you to play on pro mode, still staying by your side as he ran around, trying to figure out the ghost’s spawn place. Yeonjun walked right behind you, holding a camera in his hands while Beomgyu stayed in the van, laughing his ass off as he watched you through Yeonjun’s camera. It slowly turned into Soobin continuously telling him to do something and him arguing that you had it all covered already. It had Soobin grumbling and his chat laughing. 

You played for two hours and half until Beomgyu had to leave—a date as Soobin informed you earlier—and you all decided to call it a day. You stretch out on the bed, pushing the heating laptop off your legs. Soobin leans back in his chair once his computer is turned off, turning to face you. “Had fun tonight?” 

You smile, nodding. You open your arms and he doesn’t hesitate getting up from his place and making his way over to you, plopping down on top of you. You giggle, bringing him down to kiss him. “So much fun,” you answer, wrapping your arms behind his neck. 

“You were so pretty,” he praises, placing a soft kiss to your nose. “I wanted to kiss you every time you gave me that clueless pout,” he whispers, this time leaving a kiss on your cheek. You giggle, cupping his cheeks and making him look at you. “Kiss me twice as much now then.” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice, already claiming your lips. He wraps his hands behind your back, keeping you as close as possible until he decides to change positions, his lips never leaving yours as he sits down and helps you onto his lap. His hand moves up to your neck, thumb brushing your cheek as he deepens the kiss. He could go like this all day if he could. 

You run a hand through his hair, forcing him to pull back when you tug at a few of his strands. He groans, eyes meeting yours. You bite back a moan yourself when you look at him, every sane thought you had until now disappearing out of the window when he looks up at you like that. “Love,” he whispers, his hands trailing down your sides until he makes it under your shirt. “Yes, baby?” You smile innocently, pretending that his touch doesn’t send shivers throughout your whole body. 

“You’re beautiful.” You learnt to accept his compliments after some time (because you’re not sure if there has been a day in which he wouldn’t compliment you in some way) but they still worked on you every time, making you blush. His hands move to your back again, unclipping your bra with ease. You help him get your shirt off, your bra following right after. He smiles, one of his hands cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other settles on your waist. You can’t even blink before his mouth meets your other boob, his tongue circling your nipple. 

You run your hand through his hair again, a soft whine escaping your lips as you grind on him from the pleasure. He glances at you briefly, and when he sees your eyes closed, the moans that leave your lips showing him just how much you’re enjoying yourself, he sucks harder, taking his sweet time with each of your breasts. 

“Baby,” you whine, rolling your hips against his. He finally pulls away, meeting your eyes with a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Please.” 

Your back presses against the mattress, your boyfriend hovering on top of you and kissing his way down your body. Once his mouth reaches your pants, he tugs them down slowly, kissing your inner thigh. You open your legs for him without hesitation, causing a groan to leave his lips. He settles himself between your legs, kissing his way up from your thigh to your clit. “Just a small taste,” he begs, sucking on your clit the same way he sucked on your nipple moments ago. 

It’s been days of exploring each other’s bodies, finding out what pleasures the other and what doesn’t. It took some time, but he’d like to say he knows how to get you off without any problems now, one of those things being your newly discovered obsession with riding his nose. 

And what kind of a boyfriend would he be if he didn’t give you the opportunity to do so? 

Soobin presses his nose against your clit, his tongue pushing past your folds. Your moans fill the room shortly after, even if you try to keep it down so as not to disturb your roommate, gripping the sheets on your side. You roll your hips against him, your eyes rolling back when his tongue enters your hole. As if that wasn’t enough on its own, his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you where he wants so he controls all of your pleasure. 

“Wa–Wait,” you gasp, your orgasm building in your stomach faster than you can comprehend. He simply hums against you, not bothering with looking up as he licks you. “So pretty,” he mumbles again, sucking on your clit. You gasp, finding his hair with your fingers and trying to tug him away from you, your legs closing simultaneously. 

Fortunately, he only pulls back once you reach your orgasm, finishing on his mouth. He licks his lips clean, smiling. “You,” your breath catches and you’re not even sure what you want to say. Did so fucking good? Were absolutely amazing? Take better care of me than anyone else? 

“It’s okay,” he coos, coming up to kiss you. He brushes your hair from your face gently, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You can do one more, right?” You don’t answer, you can’t. All you can think about is, where did you even learn all that? 

But you know the answer. From you. Everything he knows, he’s learnt from you, because he wanted to. He learnt how to talk, when the right time to kiss you is, where to press at times, and how to be a good mix of someone who could—and wanted—to please you, and the same person he was before who didn’t even know a handful of positions. 

His thumb gently circles your clit, causing a few whines to leave your lips. He keeps his eyes on you, waiting for your answer. Even though you told him before it was okay to overstimulate you sometimes, he didn’t need to do so. He was glad he could make you feel good, even if it means having to take care of his throbbing cock alone in the bathroom. 

But you wouldn’t let that happen, slowly nodding. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “I can take one more.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips before getting his clothes off, too busy admiring your naked body to look where they ended up after he threw them to the floor. 

Soobin rubs his cock between your folds, his eyes glued to your body. “Wanna go raw?” you offer and his eyes immediately widen. He has condoms, somewhere in his top drawer of his desk, but at the moment, he completely forgot about something like protection, his mind too occupied with different thoughts. “Can I?” He looks up and you smile, nodding. 

“Fuck,” he curses, aligning himself slowly. He looks up once more for reassurance and when you chuckle, telling him it’s okay, he thrusts his tip in, giving you some time to adjust before he slaps his hips with yours. You gasp immediately, your moans coming out broken as he starts moving. 

Soobin’s soft praises mixed with his groans fill your ears, your eyes rolling back as his fingers lace with yours and he slows down again, hitting just the right spot. At that moment, even though your head is empty, one singular thought manages to pop up. I love you, Soobin.  

You don’t say anything though, holding his hand with your mouth wide open and head thrown back. Yeah, he is good. 

His thrusts turn sloppy, his energy slowly dying out as he reaches his climax. You came just seconds ago with his name falling from your lips as if you were a broken record and now it was finally his turn. You wrap your legs behind his back, keeping him in place and making sure he doesn’t even think about pulling out. You need to feel him filling you up, showing you you’re his. And he’ll gladly do so. 

“Shit,” he gasps, squeezing your hand tighter as he finishes, his eyes wide. “Fuck– That was so good.” You giggle, relaxing your legs again and trying to catch your breath. He curses again when he pulls out of you and hears you whine, fighting himself not to get hard again. He lays down beside you, dropping his arm around your stomach and pulling you flush against his body. 

“I love you,” he mumbles, just like he has many times before. But this time, it’s different after all. Because this time, you can say it back. 

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper, sealing the words with a kiss.

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez @bamgeutsz @lovingbeomgyudayone @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @saejinniestar @dawngyu @xylatox @thetxtdevil @biteyoubiteme @heesmiles @t-102 @jellyyjn @feet4liferss @soobinieswife @yunxiang0524 @xodidarks @jellyyjn @bunniwords @cocoalmond @tteokbunni @chaotic-floral @fancypeacepersona @beomgyusluver @ros1eluvsbinnie ✶⋆

Want to get notified? Join taglist here !

[ochacoca]

hey could u write an angsty fic where the reader thinks akaashi is too good for them pls thank youuu

I WOULD GIVE YOU THE MOON

3rd year!akaashi x gn!reader

now playing ♫ moon song by phoebe bridgers

IN WHICH your boyfriend doesn't let the thought of you not being good enough for him haunt you.

word count: 1,286 words

content: angst, hurt/comfort, 3rd year!akaashi, 3rd year!reader, pre-established relationship, happy ending

Ever since you began dating, you never understood how someone like Keiji ended up with someone like you.

He was so attentive, so thoughtful, and so kind. He had his weird quirks that made him unique. Keiji remembered every small detail about you. How you liked your tea, how to calm you down, how to put you to sleep at night when your mind won't stop running laps. He was an amazing partner and you couldn't ask for more.

You'd consider yourself a good partner as well. But, you were just.. you. You were the one people approached to ask about your other friends, not you. The one who was always asked to take a picture of the group instead of being asked to be in the photo.

Anytime you tried, you couldn't find anything unique about yourself. Not your personality, not your looks, you were just average. That's what you thought of yourself and that was what you've grown up to think, even though Keiji insists otherwise.

But more recently, you've felt this weight on your shoulders. Anytime he'd bring you breakfast in bed, anytime he'd show you affection, or anything else he does on a regular basis, you would feel this churn in your stomach.

I don't deserve this.

The thought used to come and go before you even had time to acknowledge it. But now, it's all you think about.

And you become more fixated on your appearance. You couldn't blame it on the bright white lights in your bedroom or the warm yellow lights in your bathroom. Your hair was dry and frizzy, you had deep eyebags from the late nights you stayed up overthinking. You looked sick. But this never stopped his compliments.

“You look so pretty, my love.” He'd whispered in your ear when he sees you staring at yourself in the mirror for so long. He'd wrap his arms around your waist as he stood behind you, resting his chin against your shoulder.

You would always smile and thank him. But deep down, you always thought he was lying. Just trying to make you feel good about yourself, or trying to convince himself in the process.

You couldn't bring this up to him though. You wouldn't. All you could try to do was to try and be enough for him so he wouldn't find it in somebody else.

The hangout had been Bokuto's idea. After the third years graduated, there wasn't much time where the old volleyball team was able to see each other, so he curated a get-together where everyone was able to come. Even her.

You didn't hate Yukie Shirofuku. You could never. She was such a sweetheart, but you envied her with everything inside you.

She was so confident in herself without lifting a finger. So effortlessly gorgeous when you had to put hours into yourself to look at least a bit decent. When she laughed at something Keiji said, throwing her head back and holding her stomach, you felt your stomach twisting sickeningly. You hated getting jealous with every bone in your body. You wanted to brush it off, but it was hard. You didn't want to be that type of partner.

With her shine in the room, you felt invisible.

You tried to be active all night. Engaging in different conversations and such so it wouldn't seem you were in a bad mood. You didn't want to ruin the atmosphere with your negativity. But Keiji being Keiji, he already knew something was up with you.

“Are you okay?” He whispered in your ear, placing his hand on your thigh and rubbing it softly.

You moved your head to face him, slapping on a fake smile in hopes he wouldn't notice how badly you wanted to leave. “Hm? Yeah, I'm fine.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously but nodded, not wanting to push it any furthur incase you got uncomfortable. But after a few minutes passed, he could see it in your body language. The way you shifted in your seat, how you picked at your nails and cracked your knuckles.

“Do you want to go back home?” He whispered again in your ear. You sighed, you couldn't deny it anymore. You nodded and he nodded back before standing up and gathering your things.

“Okay, I'll drop you off.”

You stood up beside him and gently grabbed his hands. “But what about your friends?” You said. You didn't want to be the reason he didn't hang out with his friends.

But he only smiled at you and shook his head. “I have more opportunities to see them again. Let's go.”

You had been avoiding his gaze since you left Bokuto's house. You would see through your peripheral at every red stoplight in the car how he'd look at you, with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips slightly parted. However, you continued to look out the window. Now, you're standing in front of the door to your house, waiting to go inside. You unlock the door and twist the knob to step in, but Keiji's hand catches your wrist before you could open it wide enough.

“Wait.” He mumbled. He gently tugged you towards him, placing his hands on your shoulders and rubbing them softly. “Just wait for a minute.”

You finally met his eyes for the first time in an hour. He had concern etched all across his face. You could see it in the way he furrowed his eyebrows, the look in his eyes, his lips pursed. “You're not okay.”

The lump formed in your throat immediately. You swallowed it down, letting out a broken laugh before speaking. “I'm sorry.” Your voice broke slightly. “It's just.. I didn't like seeing her around you.”

“With who? With Yukie?” He asked with a tone of disbelief. There was a pause in the air, and he already knew with your silence that he was right.

“I'm sorry-” You started but he cut you off before you could finish your sentence.

“Stop,” He said quickly while shaking his head. “you don't have to apologize, darling.”

“It's just..” You trailed off.

“Just what?” He asked as he tried to coax out the answer from you, with the same softness he only showed for you. You took a shaky breath and exhaled.

“Sometimes I just think you can do better, you know?” You avoided his gaze as the lump in your throat grew stronger. “I feel like you’re wasting your time with me. I can't give you what you deserve.”

“What?” His expression softened. It looked like your words physically pained him to hear. “Stop it..”

“Keiji–”

“Stop.” He cut you off as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours while softly taking your head in his hands. “Y/n, I would give you the moon if I could.

He peppered soft kisses all over your face. On your forehead, your cheeks, your temple, before finally pressing them against your lips. “Why would you think you wouldn't be enough for me?” His voice cracked and it broke you.

You didn't have an answer. You could only shrug and try looking away from him as you fought off the tears that formed in your eyes, only for Keiji to gently direct your face to look in his eyes again.

“You are perfect for me.” He whispered softly to you, pressing his body even closer against yours as he embraced you. “All I want is you.”

©OCHACOCA 2025 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other platforms!

[lucydixon]

Sweet on you

GIF by @jst2guyz

Summary: You and Erik are friends who seem, to everyone around you, including the Campbell family, to have a deeper relationship than either of you is willing to admit. When you express wanting your nipples pierced one afternoon, Erik jumps at the chance to offer his services.

Warning: NSFW, Needles, Piercing, Hand Stuff, Unprotected P in V

You and Erik had been somewhere between friends and maybe more since high school. You didn’t kiss and weren’t sleeping together, not in that way at least. You’d spent plenty of nights sharing his bed, and you'd woken up in his arms too many times to count after a late night at the Campbell family home.

From the outside, the two of you looked like a couple. You teased one another relentlessly, exchanging flirty banter and hanging off of eachother constantly.

Even his family wasn’t sure where you stood.

Neither of you had ever had a serious relationship that had lasted all that far beyond the introduction to the other. Every partner either of you had ever had was unsettled by how close to eachother you were, and they always wound up asking you to choose. 

You’d never not chosen each other. 

There was tension, sure.

More times than either of you could count, you’d gotten a little bit too close, and found yourselves inches away from locking lips, or allowed your casual touching to venture beyond the line of friendship, your fingertips would brush over his stomach when he was walking around the house shirtless, his running over your exposed collarbones or the curve of your waist whenever he had access to either. 

But, anytime things got a little too real, the two of you laughed it off. 

“How bad did it hurt when you got your nipples pierced?” You asked Eric absently, chewing on the end of your pencil while you sketched in the margins of your notebook, legs draped over his lap while he played videogames on a Sunday afternoon. 

“Not as bad as it hurt to pierce my dick.” He scoffed without tearing his eyes away from the TV. 

“Think I could take it?” You asked, genuinely waiting to know what he thought. 

Nobody knew you better than he did.

“Probably,” He shrugged “There’s no way it’ll hurt worse than getting your ribs inked did. Why? You want me to pinch them so you can find out?” 

A lazy smirk crept across his face and you kicked him lightly. 

“No, I don’t want you to pinch them.” You rolled your eyes “Asshole.” 

“I just don’t know if I wanna deal with the healing time.” 

“That’s the worst part.” He bobbed his head thoughtfully. “I think you could handle it though, you’re tough.” 

“I think I’m gonna do it.” You muttered, nodding decisively to yourself after a moment. “Tomorrow.” 

“Tommorow?” He raised a brow, looking away from his game finally. 

“Before I chicken out.” You shrugged, “Is Janey working tomorrow?” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoah!” He exclaimed, tossing the controller aside to look at you like you’d lost your mind “You’ve got an expert piercer right here and you want Janey to do it?” 

“If you wanted to see my tits, you could’ve just asked.” You told him, biting back a smirk when his cheeks noticeably warmed.  

“C’mon, sweets” he groaned, trying to play it off “I could really use the scratch. You let me do it and that’s fifty bucks in my pocket.” 

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. He’d been calling you that for ages. Neither of you were sure when it had started or where it had come from, but you never asked him to stop so he never did. 

“Yeah, okay.” You conceded, holding your hands up in surrender. “Fine.” 

“Alright, sweets,” Erik started getting set up the following evening after he'd finished with all of his clients for the day, and waved you over to the piercing chair “strip.” 

“You could at least buy me dinner first” You gave him a light shove, shrugging off your coat while he chuckled under his breath. 

You pulled your shirt over your head and draped it over the back of the chair, then made yourself comfortable. You’d purposefully not worn a bra so that you didn’t have anything rubbing up against your fresh piercings. 

When Erik turned to face you, he wasn’t sure why your bare chest had caught him so off guard. 

He’d seen them in tanktops and sports bras, but to see your tits in all their glory without a stitch of fabric covering them was something else entirely. 

His eyes raked over the soft swell of your breasts and the little, pink buds adorning them. 

They were perfect and looked like they’d fit beautifully in the palm of his hands. 

He’d be lying if he said that he’d never thought about it. 

Erik felt his breath hitch in his throat, but covered it up with a cough, trying not to look like he was ogling you despite that very much being the case. 

The fact that you were just sitting there comfortably, making no attempt to hide them from him, even for a moment, made his dick twitch in his pants. 

He rolled his stool closer to the piercing chair so that it would hide the bulge slowly growing from your view, determined not to ruin this. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking when he offered to do it. 

Maybe he did just want to see your tits. 

“Do you want them vetical or horizontal?” He asked you, swallowing hard. 

“That’s a thing?” You asked, looking amused “People get verical nipple piercings?” 

“Some people.” Erik shrugged “I take that as a no on the vertical?” 

“Correct” 

“Okay, I’m gonna mark them out with a pen” He muttered, grabbing one off of his station before hesitating. “I’m gonna have to like, touch you.” 

“Oh, really?” You smirked softly “Here I was thinking you could pierce my nipples without touching me at all.” 

“Alright.” He rolled his eyes “Laugh it up sweets, I’m about to cop a feel, so you’d better savour it.” 

“Oh, I will.” You scoffed, but still, you shuddered when he reached out and touched you gently. 

The side of his hand rested on your breast, fingers carefully pinching the little pink bud while he placed a dot on either side, ducking down to make sure it was even. 

He was close enough that you could feel his breath fanning over your chest and you couldn’t deny the way it made you feel. 

He moved onto the other side, just as diligent and shockingly professional about the whole thing while you watched, breathing shakily. 

Your cocky, teasing stare was was long gone, replaced by a soft look and lightly parted lips. 

You wondered if he could feel your heart racing in your chest. 

Erik was far too busy fighting the urge to engulf your nipples with his mouth to notice anything. 

He was trying so, so hard to pretend that you were just any other customer. As if it would keep the nerves settling in his chest from getting any worse. 

He wasn’t sure that the two of you had ever been in such an intimate position. 

It shouldn’t have felt intimate. Not when he was just doing his job. 

But it was you. 

Even though he was talking you thorough the whole process, you still jolted when he came near you with the clamp. 

“Easy, sweets.” He warned, looking up at you teasingly as he clicked the clamps “don’t get all squirmy on me now. You’re gonna fuck it up.” 

“I’m not getting squirmy.” You defended, huffing softly “just do it.” 

“I’m trying!” He chuckled, slowly fastening the clamp so he could grab a clean needle. “Don’t look while the needle’s going through it.” 

“Yeah, okay.” You grumbled, looking up at the ceiling. 

“Do you want me to count?” Erik asked, lining the tip of the needle up with the marks he’d made. “Or just do it?” 

“Just do it-” Your sentence ended in a gasp when you felt the needle pierce the bundle of nerves 

“Fuck Erik!” You whimpered, fighting the urge to look “That fucking hurt!” 

“Of course it did, it’s a needle.” He rolled his eyes “Want me to kiss it better?” 

“Shut up.” You huffed, able to hear the smirk in his voice. 

He put the bar through it and started on the other one right away. 

You made the same gasping sound when the needle went in, but this time, you didn’t complain. 

“There.” He undid the clamp and sat back, admiring his work, acutely aware hat he probably wasn’t going to ever get to stare at your tits so blatantly ever again. So, he was taking full advantage. “Done.” 

You looked down and inspected the little metal bars through your nipples before beaming at him. 

“What do you think?” You asked, looking back down at them “Cute, right?” 

“Very.” Erik scoffed, biting back a remark about just how good they looked. 

He tossed his gloves into the bin under the table, and you immediately reached for your bag before even putting your top back on. 

“Nah, you don’t have to pay.” Erik waved you off and you faltered, staring at him. 

“I thought you needed the money?” You frowned, brows pulling together slightly. 

“I said it’s fine.” He insisted, very clearly avoiding eye contact.

“You fucker!” You gasped, “You did just want to see my tits!” 

He made a huffing sound and you knew that you were right. 

“Erik Campbell, you sly dog.” You teased, reaching out to grab his chin and force him to look at you “I told you yesterday. You could’ve just asked.” 

“Stop,” he groaned, trying the pull away. 

“No, way!” You exclaimed, tightening your grip and looking far too amused. “tell me the truth. Was this all some ploy to cop a feel?” 

You didn’t seem weirded out, which was throwing him off a bit. 

Did you want this as much as he did?

His breathing shifted, a little ragged as he considered the possibility. 

“What if it was?” His voice didn’t waver, his gaze suddenly sharp instead of embarrassed, darting down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. 

Now it was your cheeks heating up. 

You swallowed hard. 

“Then I’d tell you again,” you breathed, leaning forward slightly in your seat, “You don’t need a ploy, Campbell. Don’t need tricks or excuses. You could’ve just asked.” 

“And what?” He scoffed softly, resting his hand over your knee, fingers digging into the soft flesh. “You’d have flashed me?” 

“I’d have let you do a whole lot more than look.” 

“Yeah?” he couldn’t help the gleam of disbelief in his eyes, hiding behind the blatant hunger. 

“Mhmm.” You hummed, releasing his chin to let your hand trail down his neck and rest on his shoulder. 

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” He muttered, breathing deeply as you kept getting closer and closer “You’ve been teasing me for years, sweets.”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t tease me too, Campbell.” You nuzzled his cheek with your nose once you got close enough.

“I’m not the one walking around in short little skirts.” Erik’s fingers inched up your leg “You think I don’t notice when you rub up against me in the morning? The way you squirm whenever you’re sitting in my lap? That little smirk when you act like you can’t feel me getting hard?” 

“What about you, huh?” you all but purred, “I’m not the one who only sleeps in their underwear. Don’t think I can’t feel you rubbing right back in the mornings, Erik. You’re just as bad as I am. The way you hold my waist when we’re at concerts or on the train? That’s a little more than friendly, don’t you think?” 

“We’ve always been a little more than friendly, sweets.” he hummed, raking his nails over the skin just below the hem of your skirt “You know that as well as I do.” 

“What’s a little more then?” 

You yelped when Erik pulled you off the table and into his lap suddenly, grabbing onto his hair. 

You could feel his bulge pressed up against your scantily clad clit, arching your body into him slightly as a whimper slipped past your lips. 

“Watch the piercings.” he pulled back slightly to growl at you, hands resting on your ass, over your skirt. “That’s some of my best work right there.” 

“You watch them.” you huffed, tilting his head back with the grip you had on his hair. 

Your bottom lip was jutting out in a soft pout and he’d never wanted to kiss you so badly in his life. 

So he did. 

Your lips collided roughly, slotting together and immediately moving at a near frantic pace. 

Years of tension bubbled up to the surface and you were really struggling not to press your upper body flush against his. His hands kneaded the plump flesh of your backside roughly and you moaned into his mouth. You could feel your panties soaking right through and were sure that you were so wet that you’d soak through his jeans if he didn’t take them off very soon. 

Your hips rocked into his and he couldn’t help but groan. 

You swallowed the sound happily, hands trailing down his shoulders to tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours while you continued to grind yourself up against him, getting yourself more and more worked up.

Erik happily shrugged off his t-shirt, tossing it across the room before grabbing the bottom of your thighs and standing. 

You whined when he set you down, but the sound turned into a gasp when he spun you around and pulled you back into his lap. 

Your back pressed up against his bare chest as he hooked your legs over his knees and spread you wide open. 

You could feel the cool air against your soaked panties and let your head fall back on his shoulder, giving him great access to the side of your throat. 

His mouth was on you, hot and wet, sloppily pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck while you squirmed in his lap, making little needy, breathless sounds. 

“You know how long I’ve been wanting to touch you like this, sweets?” he muttered into your throat, hands running up and down the insides of your thighs, coming so close, yet still too far from your aching core. 

“How long?” you panted, about ready to let your own hand fall between your legs to get some relief. 

“Since the day I met you.” he growled, finally caressing the drenched fabric acting as the sole barrier to your burning heat. “God, you’re fucking soaked, aren’t you?” 

“Maybe I’ve been waiting for you to touch me like this for just as long.” You whined “please, Erik.” 

Your pleading almost had his cumming in his pants but he squeezed his eyes shut and goaned loudly into the back of your shoulder. 

Just as you were opening your mouth to start really begging, he suddenly pulled your panties to the side and ran his finger along your slit.

You jolted, hips bucking into his hand involuntarily as you hissed.

“This what you want, sweets?” he breathed, struggling to keep his composure. There was a slight vulnerability in his tone.

He needed you to say it. 

Needed you to tell him that this was okay and that it wouldn’t ruin things because he just couldn’t lose you and if stopping then and there was it took to make sure he didn’t, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat. 

“Yes,” You gasped, breathy and desperate, “Oh god, please. Yes, Erik, yes! I want this.” 

That was all he needed. 

The sound that tore its way out of your throat when his finger sunk into your drenched hole was other worldly and send a shudder up his spine. 

Your entire body melted into his, and he was sure that if he wasn’t already sitting down, his knees would have buckled. 

“Promise me I’m gonna see you tomorrow.” It was a demand, really, but he needed to hear it. 

“I promise.” You panted, crying out when he worked a second finger into you “Fuck- of course you will. You’ll see me tomorrow and every day after that.” 

“Think you can get rid of me, Campbell?” You rocked your hips into his hand, moaning lowly 

“you’re stuck with me, baby” you were practically fucking yourself on his fingers, only vaguely aware of the words coming out of your mouth in between desperate whines and mewls. “Always have been, always will be” 

A shaky breath fell from his lips and for a moment, he was glad that you couldn’t see him. 

“You’re mine, sweets.” he muttered into your ear, his breath fanned over the sensitive skin and you shuddered. Your movements slowed and your breath caught in your throat “Aren’t you?” 

“Course I am, Erik.” you breathed, leaning further into him, “now, are we gonna keep talking, or are you gonna take your pants off?” 

A soft growl left his throat and in an instant, you were being tossed back onto the chair while he stood abruptly, fumbling with his belt buckle. 

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his clear eagerness, but the laughter died in your throat when he finally got his pants down around his knees and pulled you to the edge of the chair, prying your legs open roughly so he could line himself up with your cunt. 

“Last chance to turn back,” He breathed, running the head of his cock through your folds. 

You could feel the cool metal of his piercing nudging your clit and throught you might come undone then and there. 

You forced yourself to look up at him instead of letting your eyes roll back inside your head. 

“Fuck that.” You panted, desperate to feel him inside of you. 

After one last deep, shaky breath, Erik teased your entrance with the head of his cock, easing it into you painfully slowly in long, but shallow thrusts. 

That piercing of his dragging along your walls was damn near eupphoric. 

He’d only made it to the halfway point, exercising an impressive amount of restraint despite the urge to slam into you, before you started gasping and groaning, already teetering over the edge. 

“You already gonna cum for me, sweets?” He cooed teasingly, albiet shakily “God, you’re so fucking hot. You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” 

All you could do was nod, screwing your eyes shut in complete bliss. 

“Fuck, that feels so fucking good.” He groaned, letting his head fall back while he quickened his shallow thrusts, timing them in between your little desperate pants. “So goddamn tight.” 

You were so wet hat lewd squelching sounds filled the air, background music to the symphony of sounds pouring out of your mouths. 

As soon as he felt your walls fluttering around him, Eric sunk into you until he bottommed out. 

You gasped, but didn’t have time to adjust before he was pounding your poor cunt, fucking you hard and fast through your orgasm. 

“Holy shit,” He panted, slamming himself home over and over while you convulsed around him, your cunt squeezing him so tightly that he couldn’t have stoped his own release even if he’d wanted to. 

You could feel the hot ropes of cum painting your insides and clenched around him, milking his balls of all you could while he sloppily thrust into you, slowing to a stop.

For the third time, he picked you up and sat himself on the piercing table, keeping himself buried deep inside your still pulsating cunt while you both caught your breath, still be careful with the fresh piercings. 

“Does this mean you’re gonna clean these piercings for me every day till they heal?” You sighed contently after awhile, brushing your fingers over his chest. 

“Gonna have to hang out with me extra if I’m gonna do it twice a day, every day.” he breathed, smiling softly, and blinking at you tiredly “You sure you can commit to that?” 

“I’m pretty sure I can live with that.” 

“Then yeah.”

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[lilbluustar]

high on you

pairing— innocent fem!reader x bf!anton

wc— 2.7k

content and warnings— inexperienced reader, substance use (weed), altered perception, mild intoxication, romantic/sexual tension, innocent x experienced trope, self-insert vibes, intimacy under influence, nighttime and melancholic setting, emotional subtext (he's not as well off as he seems), soft touches, spicy build-up, smut; car sex (mdi).

note— that live left me thinking... i couldn't sleep, GOD, i needed to capture something!!! so sorry if you see mistakes, lmk if u saw some!!!!

the road to the overlook was narrow, full of poorly lit curves, the kind of route most people avoided if they didn’t know the area well.

but anton knew it by heart. he could get there even with his eyes closed if he wanted. he’d done it countless times.

alone.

always alone.

because this place… wasn’t a tourist spot, or a romantic getaway.

it was his refuge.

he came when the world felt too heavy. when his house felt like a cage and his thoughts wouldn’t stop running. he’d sit on the hood of his car, light a joint, and just… disconnect. without having to explain anything to anyone. without wearing any mask.

but this time, he wasn’t alone.

you were next to him, in silence, looking at the city stretching out below like a sea of floating lights. your fingers moved nervously over your coat, like they were trying to take the place of your thoughts.

“didn’t think you were the type to come to places like this,” you murmured, without turning.

anton leaned back in his seat, eyes on the clear sky.

“i’m not. but this place… it’s not for just anyone.”

you glanced at him, smiling with curiosity.

“so why me?”

he hesitated for a fraction of a second. then he spoke, with that calm tone of his that always seemed to hide something more.

“because with you… i don’t feel like i have to fake anything.”

the air grew tense, but not uncomfortably so.

it was the kind of silence that comes right before something important happens.

anton opened the glove compartment. took out a lighter, a small metal box, and a ready-made joint.

you watched, saying nothing at first. your eyes flicked from the joint to his face, as if looking for something.

“do you come here to smoke?”

he nodded.

“to think. to be alone. to forget everything for a while.”

“you need it that often?” you asked quietly.

anton lit the end and took a slow drag before answering.

“more than i should.”

you looked down.

there was something about him that disarmed you without trying.

that way he spoke without saying much. that tiredness hidden behind his smile.

“does it bother you?” he asked, noticing your silence.

“no,” you replied quickly. too quickly. “i’ve just… never been with someone who does.”

he let out a short, raspy laugh.

“never?”

you shook your head, a little embarrassed.

“do you want to?”

the question caught you off guard.

“what… what if it makes me feel weird?”

anton finally looked at you, with that kind of gaze that seemed to go deeper than it should.

“then i’ll stay with you. until it stops feeling weird.”

you hesitated.

but there was something in his voice.

something in the night.

something in him.

he held out his hand.

your fingers brushed against anton’s.

“just a little…”

he handed you the joint, your hands touching for a second longer than necessary.

you brought it to your lips, awkwardly, and after just one hit, you started coughing.

anton let out a soft laugh.

“easy… it’s your first time.”

“that was… awful,” you said between coughs and laughter.

“you’ll get used to it.”

he looked at you with a tenderness disguised as irony. you leaned back, the stars slightly spinning above your head.

“you’re doing fine,” he murmured, taking another slow drag. “for your first time.”

“i feel… light.”

“that’s the idea.”

the silence returned, but now it was softer.

more intimate.

like the night was wrapping around you both.

outside, the city lights seemed to dance. literally. you squinted, staring through the windshield.

“do they always look like that…?”

anton turned his head toward you. his expression was relaxed, with a small smile that wouldn’t go away.

“only when you’re high enough to see beauty in such simple things.”

“they’re like… giant fireflies.”

anton let out a nasal laugh.

“you’re so high.”

you covered your face with your hands.

"don't say that!"

"why not? you look..."

he stopped.

you looked at him, long lashes, red cheeks, glossy eyes.

"i look…?" you pressed, tilting your head.

"cute," he answered, almost in a whisper. "with your little eyes like that, and that face… like you don’t know whether to laugh or fall asleep."

you let out a soft laugh, a little more free this time.

"do you always talk like this when you’re… you know…?"

"only when i don’t want to lie."

a silence full of unspoken meaning wrapped around you.

you rested your head on the seat, watching the distorted lights beyond the window.

your skin felt different, softer. like the breeze from the car was gently brushing over it.

"it feels like… like time is moving in slow motion."

"it is," anton said. "or at least… it feels that way when you're with someone you don't want to leave."

you looked at him.

his eyes were half-closed, but still, he didn’t stop looking at you.

as if he was afraid that blinking might make him lose this moment.

"are you okay?" you asked.

anton nodded.

"yeah. i just… like looking at you."

you blushed even more. the mix of warmth, soft lights, and his low voice wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

"that sounds very… very intense."

"it's just that your…," he whispered. "you have something strange. i don’t know what it is."

you laughed, looking down.

"you have something strange too."

"yeah?"

"yeah… like your sadness… doesn’t feel scary. it’s almost… beautiful."

anton went silent. his chest rose slowly as he inhaled.

you didn’t know if you had made him uncomfortable or touched something too deep.

"no one’s ever told me that before," he murmured. "that my sadness was beautiful."

"that’s how i feel… when you’re quiet, looking at the sky. you seem like you want to escape… but you don’t."

he looked at you. more intensely now.

like suddenly, you weren’t that high anymore… just closer.

"anton…" you said, breaking through the murmur of the distant city. "why me? really. why not someone else?"

he stared at you for a few seconds. took one last drag and put out the joint with his fingers.

"because sometimes… when the world hurts, there’s only one person who doesn’t make it worse."

you blinked.

he leaned a little closer.

"can i kiss you?"

anton nodded, catching your lips with his.

the feeling was different, like it was the first time you’d kissed him.

it felt overwhelming, and every kiss made you crave the next one, unable to stop,

like the taste of the joint was becoming addictive between his lips.

you needed him close,

you had never felt the need to feel someone this near, like your life depended on it.

so, without thinking too much, you sat on his lap.

anton wrapped both arms around your waist, as if he felt the same need— to hold you close enough just to breathe.

suddenly, you leaned back a little, breaking the kiss for a few seconds, laughing at something anton had said— you didn’t even remember what exactly, just that it had tickled something inside you and left it lingering on your lips— and your fingers accidentally brushed against his, which were resting on your butt.

the touch was so light, but it felt like a spark.

anton didn’t pull away.

neither did you.

you kept laughing softly,

but it wasn’t about the same thing anymore.

it was about the weight in the air.

about how the silence between you now tasted different.

"we're doing a lot of new things today," you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

anton looked at you. his eyes still a little glassy, darker now.

"yeah…" he replied. "and i don’t want it to stop."

you stared at him, your faces only inches apart.

the background music felt distant.

the only real thing was the way you looked at him,

the way your skin was asking for more contact.

“what else do you want to try?” you asked, with that kind of courage only a distorted sense of reality could give you.

he smiled, almost guiltily. scratched the back of his neck.

“i don't want to scare you...”

“try me,” you whispered. “i don’t think you can.”

anton swallowed hard.

his eyes dropped briefly to your lips.

“i want to know… i want to hear your moans” he finally said, voice low, rough, so direct the air seemed to freeze.

you looked at him without moving. like the world had hit pause just to give you both space.

“here…?” you asked, your voice barely trembling, but not backing down.

anton leaned in just a little more. the warmth of his breath made you shiver.

“here. only if you want.”

you nodded, very slowly.

there was no fear in your eyes.

only curiosity.

craving.

and he… he was about to fall apart.

anton leaned in, and with painful slowness, brought his fingers to your jaw.

“you look so fucking pretty like this…” he whispered. “red cheeks, lips half open, those shiny little eyes…”

you didn’t say anything. he just moved his hand down to your bare knee, stroking it, making you tremble slightly.

his hand slid down your neck, slow, unhurried.

the touch of his skin felt like soft fire.

you closed your eyes for a second.

“touch me,” you whispered, barely breathing.

anton slid his fingers down your exposed thigh, trembling too.

“like this…?” he asked, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

you bit your lower lip.

“yeah… but more.”

his lips brushed yours with an almost cruel patience.

he didn't kiss you, he just left them there.

“you're going to drive me crazy," he murmured.

“you already are.”

and this time, you were the one who kissed him.

the kiss you shared was slow at first. exploratory. but soon, your breaths mingled with pent-up desperation.

anton pushed you gently against the horn, his hand seeking the edge of your waist, reaching under your shirt as if the mere touch of his skin could anchor him to reality, you felt him trace lines on your lower back with his fingertips.

each caress was like liquid electricity.

each kiss, deeper. more charged.

the music followed, distorted, distant. but the sound of their heavy breathing was the only thing filling the car.

“is this okay?” anton asked in a raspy, panting voice as he brushed the edge of yor bra with his fingers.

you nodded, barely, already lost in the sensation of having him so close.

“yes, take it off, i want more, anton," you said, barely a whisper.

and he... lost control.

he lowered his head and kissed your neck with devotion, his tongue tracing slow circles that made you arch.

“shit... your skin is so hot," he whispered against you, feeling you tremble with every slightest touch.

his hand slipped under your bra, caressing your perky nipples with a tenderness that contrasted with the tension in his jaw.

you gasped, and your back arched as if his touch was a line of fire.

“anton..." you murmured his name between gasping breaths.

“say it, again," he whispered, running his hand down your belly, leaving traces of warmth that made you go wild.

“anton...”

his voice broke as he brushed the edge of your underwear, going no further.

“tell me what you want," his eyes looked at you with a mixture of hunger and tenderness. as if he was about to disarm.

“i want... i want to feel you, inside me, to fuck me," you said, unfiltered, your eyes reddening, your cheeks burning and your body vibrating with every word.

anton growled low, his voice low and almost animalistic.

“you're killing me, you know?"

you smiled, slightly, as you guided his hand a little lower.

“then kill me too," you whispered.

the city lights, distorted through the fogged window, seemed to move slower.

the world outside disappeared.

he leaned over you and kissed you again, this time deeper, rawer. your bodies collided, soft but desperate, as if they wanted to melt.

his other hand caressed your thigh from the inside, and the sensitive skin made you moan barely, swallowing the sound against his mouth.

“shhh...” anton smiled “i don't want the car to become a scandal... yet.”

 you smacked him on the chest, laughing between moans.

“you idiot.”

“you idiot, too" he whispered against your collarbone, slowly lowering himself, as if he had all the time in the world... though you both knew that at any moment, desire would make you lose your patience again.

“you're too pretty like that," anton whispered, kissing your reddening cheek. “so... fucking cute.”

you couldn't speak. your breathing was erratic, your eyes clouded with more than just smoke. your skin was living fire and anton's fingers were like embers igniting it with every caress.

his hands moved down confidently, with restrained hunger, until they removed your underwear with desperate slowness. the brush of the air made you shiver.

“is that all right?” he asked, almost with a broken voice, while his fingers began to play with your folds, every now and then gently pulling them apart, as if they were being assaulted.

“yes... more than fine," you gasped.

“shit... i swear this is fucking crazy.”

he lowered his head to your neck, kissing you urgently. the car was an oven. your bodies, two magnets.

you helped him pull down his pants, just enough to free his hard length.

you didn't want to waste any more time, you were so aroused, any touch no matter how slight was too over-stimulating and overwhelming for you, you guided your pussy to his hard member, crossing your legs around him.

“anton...”

“i know, baby. i know.”

the penetration was slow at first, like a whispered confession between moans.

you both held your breath.

“god... you're so tight...” he grunted against your neck, moving inside you with a rhythm that went from tender to devastating.

“so big toni... more... please...”

“like this? do you like it when i give you this deep?” his words came out between his teeth, his hips slapping against yours, with a controlled but rough rhythm.

you nodded, biting your lip, as he watched you with a mixture of desire and raw tenderness.

“look at you... so fucking sweet... so good for me...”

the seat creaked, sweat trickled down your skin, and your gasps filled the car like a forbidden song.

“you love it, don't you?”

“y-yes... please, anton...”

“you look beautiful like this... being so mine” and with a deeper, wilder movement, you broke completely.

you moaned his name in a ragged sigh, your back arched and your eyes watery with ecstasy.

he followed you seconds later, collapsing against your chest, his head resting on your shoulder, panting as if the world had stopped spinning.

a warm, thick silence fell between the two of you. you could only hear their gasping breaths, the slow rhythm of their hearts trying to calm down.

outside, the lights were still distorted.

inside, everything felt... soft. soft. incredibly real.

anton stroked your hair, still inside her, still trembling.

“you're... the most beautiful thing i've ever touched in my whole damn life," he whispered.

you smiled weakly, eyes closed, her body still shuddering.

“is that the after high talking... or you?”

anton looked at you, kissing your forehead.

“it's me... but more honest than ever.”

they embraced like that, skin to skin, synchronized breaths, no need to say more.

the warmth of the car, the softness of the moment... contrasted with the intensity of what they had just shared.

“hey, anton...”

“mmm?”

“i don't think i'm going to let you come to this lookout alone anymore.”

he laughed, softly, burying his face in her neck.

“i'd love it if you didn't.”

a moment of silence. one of those soft ones. the kind that says more than a thousand words.

he looked up and watched you, as if for the first time.

“i didn't know i needed this... until it happened.”

you smiled, kissing his cheek.

“i didn't either.”

outside, the sky seemed to melt into shades of purple.

inside, just the two of you... hugging, skin to skin, hearts a little more disarmed.

and for the first time in a long time, anton didn't feel the need to run away.

not from the gazebo.

not from you.

not from himself.

[katemoneymartinsgf]

hi hi this might be asking a lot, but I can’t seem to find any other ones can you write a pazzi fic where they’re just friends with benefits and one of them can’t communicate properly and they break up and they both get different partners, but they’re jealous

Friends With Benefits |pazzi|

a/n: hey so sorry i disappeared, im currently in the process of switching from swim polo and dive to basketball and i could kms. Sorry this is rushed . Writing more tonight. Thank you sm for all the love.

-

It wasn’t a plan.

No one sat down and said this is what we are — there were no rules, no boundaries, no timeline. Just two people who spent a lot of time together. Who laughed a little too hard at each other’s jokes. Who sometimes lingered after practice, eyes locked a little too long across the gym.

And eventually, a night where Azzi leaned against her doorframe in a hoodie and shorts, and Paige stepped into her apartment like she belonged there.

That was the first time.

No big moment. No strings.

And maybe that’s what made it easy.

At first.

—

They never talked about it. Not the first time, or the second, or the seventh. Azzi would text Paige after lift, a simple you up? or bring snacks. Paige would show up. Hoodie, slides, her usual crooked grin. They’d mess around, sometimes fall asleep tangled up, other times not.

It was light. Familiar. Comfortable in a way that made too much sense.

“We’re just chillin’,” Paige told KK once, when she caught the way she looked at them in the film room.

Azzi told Ice the same thing the next week.

No one really bought it.

But no one pushed, either.

—

They were careful, in their own way.

No kissing in public.
No holding hands.
No overnight texts unless they were already in the same bed.

And it worked.

Until it didn’t.

—

It wasn’t just about the physical part. That came easy. Too easy. Paige knew exactly how Azzi liked her coffee in the morning. Azzi always remembered to steal extra protein bars for Paige after away games. They had inside jokes. Routines. Favorites.

But they never let it be anything more.

Not out loud.

Not where it counted.

—

It started to shift in ways neither of them said anything about.

Paige noticed that Azzi never posted pictures of her. Not even a blurry background cameo on her story. She knew Azzi was private, but still. It stuck with her.

Azzi noticed someone comment “miss u” on Paige’s most recent Instagram post. She’d liked it without thinking. It made Azzi’s chest tight in a way she didn’t have words for.

But neither of them brought it up.

They kept pretending.

Kept moving.

—

It unraveled slowly.

That’s what made it worse — the fact that there wasn’t a single fight or blow-up, just a gradual slipping. A quiet growing apart. Like missing each other in their own shared space.

Paige noticed it first in the way Azzi didn’t reach for her hand anymore after. How she didn’t lean in to kiss her shoulder in the dark like she used to. How the silence started stretching longer between conversations.

Azzi felt it too. Paige stopped staying as long. She’d pull on her hoodie faster. Mumbling “gotta get up early tomorrow”even when they both knew she didn’t.

Still, they kept coming back. Kept showing up. Kept telling themselves it wasn’t serious, so it couldn’t really hurt.

But it did.

—

The last time it happens, Paige stays late at practice. Azzi’s already home when she shows up. There’s a movie playing, something Paige picked without asking.

Azzi’s quiet the whole night. Her laugh is soft, but her eyes don’t match it.

They hook up.

It’s slower than usual. Not out of passion, but something heavier — like they’re both holding on too tightly to something already slipping away.

After, Paige lies beside her, fingers brushing Azzi’s bare waist. Azzi doesn’t move closer. She just stares at the ceiling.

“You good?” Paige asks softly, her voice barely above the hum of the TV still playing in the background.

Azzi nods.

“Yeah,” she says.

But she doesn’t mean it.

And Paige knows it.

She leaves before sunrise.

Azzi wakes up alone.

She doesn’t text.

Paige doesn’t call.

And neither of them says goodbye.

—

Two weeks later, Paige sees her at a team hangout — sitting across the room, head tilted toward a girl Paige’s never seen before, someone new, someone with long braids and easy laughter and hands that rest a little too comfortably on Azzi’s knee.

Paige doesn’t say a word.

Just watches from across the room.

Later, when someone asks if she’s okay, she shrugs. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

—

A week after that, Paige brings someone to the team dinner.

She’s tall. Pretty. A bit too loud. Laughs at all of Paige’s dumb jokes.

Azzi watches from her spot at the end of the table. Doesn’t say much. Smiles when people talk to her. Pretends she’s fine.

KK clocks it immediately. Leans over to Ice and mutters, “They’re gonna explode.”

No one disagrees.

—

But for now, they keep pretending.

They’re not in love.
They’re not jealous.
They’re just chillin’.

Even if it’s killing them.

Paige sees them together for the first time in a real way at that charity event the team’s forced to attend.

Black outfits. Media passes. High ceilings and polite claps. Azzi shows up with the same girl from the team hangout — her name’s Jada, apparently. She works with the athletic department, helps with NIL deals. She's all smiles and polished charm and the kind of presence that makes you notice when she walks into a room.

She has her arm around Azzi’s waist the whole night.

Paige tries not to care.

She’s brought someone too. Tia — volleyball player, grad student, pretty and warm and not from this world. She says all the right things. Laughs at all the right moments.

But Paige can’t stop watching Azzi.

Even when she looks away.

Especially when she catches Azzi looking back.

—

“Y’all okay?” KK asks, bumping Paige’s hip as they wait in line for something unnecessarily overpriced.

Paige sips her drink and shrugs. “What do you mean?”

KK lifts a brow. “You haven’t blinked since we got here.”

Paige forces a laugh. “I’m chill.”

KK hums. “Sure.”

Paige doesn’t say anything else. Just stares down into her cup like it holds some kind of answer.

—

Later, Azzi walks by her in the hall near the photo booth setup.

They don’t say anything at first.

Just a glance. A breath.

Then Azzi, stopping: “You clean up nice.”

Paige lifts a shoulder. “Tried to match your energy.”

Azzi’s smile is tight. “You did.”

There’s a pause. Not awkward, just heavy.

Azzi’s voice drops slightly. “She’s pretty.”

Paige nods. “So is Jada.”

Another pause.

“You look happy,” Paige says.

Azzi’s gaze doesn’t move. “Do I?”

“You want me to say no?”

“I want you to tell the truth.”

Paige swallows.

Azzi’s the one to walk away this time.

—

That night, Paige gets in bed with Tia and feels everything too sharply. The way her sheets feel colder than usual. The way Tia kisses her like it’s easy. The way she doesn’t flinch when Paige rolls to the edge of the bed to avoid too much contact.

Tia doesn’t notice.

Or maybe she does.

And pretends she doesn’t.

Just like Paige.

—

Azzi doesn’t last much longer either.

Two weeks into “official” with Jada, they go out to a small team dinner. The music is loud, everyone’s talking over each other, and Azzi is smiling so hard her cheeks start to hurt.

She doesn’t see Paige come in until Jada’s hand finds her lower back and Paige’s voice cuts through it all with a quiet, “Hey.”

Azzi turns.

Paige’s hair is pulled back. She’s in a cropped hoodie and jeans. She looks… good.

Too good.

Azzi clears her throat. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

Paige shrugs. “Wasn’t going to. KK dragged me.”

They stand there too long, just looking.

Jada slides her hand back into Azzi’s. It feels wrong the second it happens.

Paige nods toward it. “You two seem good.”

Azzi answers too fast. “Yeah.”

Paige gives a tight smile. “Cool.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything.

Doesn’t correct herself.

Even though she kind of wants to.

—

That night, Jada asks if she’s okay. Says she feels Azzi slipping.

Azzi lies.

Says she’s just tired.

Then she spends the next hour staring at a picture Paige posted on her story — a blurry shot of a Gatorade bottle and her socks on the couch.

And the background.

The edge of her old hoodie on the coffee table.

The one Paige never gave back.

—

They don’t text.

But both of them are reading into everything.

One teammate’s like, “You and Paige cool?”

Azzi says yeah.

Another asks Paige what happened with Azzi.

Paige says, “Nothing.”

Nothing.

Like that word doesn’t mean everything.

Paige’s phone buzzes twice on her nightstand. Then a third time, harder. She doesn’t even look at it.

Her date — the one she’s been “sort of” seeing, the one with the playlists and the folded sweatshirt Paige never asked to keep — is sitting on the edge of her bed, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

“I’m not stupid,” she says.

Paige finally looks up.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You think I don’t notice the way you freeze when she walks in? How your voice drops when you talk about her?”

Paige stays quiet.

“She’s still in here,” the girl says, pressing her palm to her own chest. “And you know it.”

Paige swallows hard.

“I can’t compete with someone you never got over,” she says, and this time it’s not angry — it’s just sad.

And that’s worse.

Paige doesn’t argue.

Because she’s right.

They don’t talk again after that.

—

Azzi’s comes undone just as quietly.

It’s after practice. Jada’s waiting outside, in her car like always, hair tied up, sunglasses on.

Azzi climbs in, tosses her bag into the back.

Jada doesn’t say hi.

“Where were you last night?”

Azzi doesn’t answer.

“You said you’d come over.”

Azzi shifts in her seat. “I forgot.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Azzi looks at her.

Jada’s jaw clenches. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

There’s no use denying it.

Azzi nods. Just once.

And the silence that follows is louder than anything she could’ve said.

—

Neither of them talks to the team about it. But the team knows.

Sarah watches Paige drop 26 in scrimmage, then walk out without talking to anyone.

KK catches Azzi staring at the bleachers like someone’s supposed to be there.

Even Ice, who usually keeps to her own lane, looks between them one day and mutters to herself, “Just kiss already or go cry in a parking lot.”

—

The breaking point doesn’t come big.

It happens at a team dinner. Nothing special. Someone brought cookies. Everyone’s loud and joking.

Paige is quiet.

Azzi walks in late. Eyes find Paige without even trying.

And it’s KK who finally breaks.

“I swear to God,” she says, standing up mid-story. “If I have to watch y’all look at each other from across the room one more time like this is some CW drama—”

Paige blinks.

Azzi blinks.

KK points between them. “Go outside. Figure it out. Lock yourselves in a room. I don’t care.”

Sarah claps once. “I’ve been WAITING.”

Even Ice nods. “Clocked it months ago.”

Azzi opens her mouth to argue.

Paige doesn’t.

She just stands up.

“Come on,” she says quietly.

And Azzi follows.

—

They end up outside on the porch. The night is cool. The air feels thick.

Neither of them speaks at first.

Then Paige turns around, arms folded over her chest.

“You said I was still yours.”

Azzi nods. “I meant it.”

“You don’t get to say that.”

“I know.”

They stare.

“I tried to move on,” Paige says. “Really tried.”

“So did I.”

“Why didn’t it work?”

Azzi’s voice is soft. “Because I still wanted you.”

Paige exhales hard.

“I didn’t know how to ask for more,” Azzi adds. “I thought if I did, I’d lose you completely.”

“You lost me anyway.”

“I know.”

“And I didn’t fight for you either,” Paige says, the words like gravel. “I just… let it happen.”

Azzi steps closer. “We both did.”

The porch is quiet.

Azzi’s voice cracks. “But I never stopped.”

Paige looks at her.

“Loving you,” Azzi clarifies, eyes shining. “Even when I wasn’t allowed to say it.”

Paige’s heart stumbles.

“You still love me?” she asks, barely audible.

Azzi nods.

Paige steps forward. Closer. Inches away now.

“I never stopped either,” she whispers.

And that’s it.

That’s everything.

The first kiss back is gentle. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just full of everything they’ve been too scared to say.

They stay there like that. Foreheads together. Hands clasped at the middle. Breathing like it’s the only way to hold steady.

When they walk back in, nobody says a word.

But everyone knows.

Because sometimes love doesn’t have to be clean.

It just has to come back.

[matchpointrogers]

bucky barnes thunderbolts!era fwb in the watchtower hiding it from everyone :P

help me hold on to you ⏾⋆.˚

fwb thunderbolts! bucky x thunderbolts! reader

tw for smut! slight angsty bucky, mentions of torture/hydra kinda

the first time you had bucky barnes in your bed, his dog tags had dangled against your face, cool and metallic against your flushed skin, branding you as something akin to his. it wasn't soft, wasn't tender. it was all tongues and teeth, his hand resting gently around your throat, never gripping enough to remind him of the times he'd been there before. he used your pulse thrumming beneath his thumb as a reminder; you were alive, real, safe. before, before he was ever the winter soldier, before the thunderbolts, before mission after mission splintering his mind, back when he was just bucky, it had been different. he had this way about him, a cunning grin that you'd shamefully fawned over in photographs, and women had wanted to impress him. now, though, with his metal arm and the cold demeanor he couldn't seem to shake, women tended to avoid him. they saw him as a threat, or a challenge, never just bucky. that was, of course, until you came along.

you'd fallen into each other accidentally at first, brought together by something like inevitability. you never cowered from him; that was the first thing he noticed about you. next came the softness of your gaze, despite the hard exterior you'd been forced to keep up. then, the gentle brushes of your hands against his skin as you bandaged him up after missions. tension built, nights spent with lingering glances, secret touches surrounded by your team. he'd finally snapped when you returned from a mission 2 days later than planned, unharmed but shaken, refusing to talk to anyone but him about what you'd seen.

"it was awful," you told him, voice shaky, drink in your hand like a crutch, "i knew hydra was awful, of course i knew, but- bucky, i'm so sorry they did that to you," his brows furrowed, pinched together, "what do you mean? what did you see?" it all came spilling out then. graphic descriptions of the facility you and yelena had been sent to raid, empty but full of information that you needed, leftover from the avenger's efforts. the terrible things you'd seen, the ancient screens playing looped footage of bucky. him, bound to what appeared to be a surgical chair, screaming like his life depended on it. him, forced to kill over and over, until he was just a hollow shell of a man. him, begging for steve, for his mother, for anyone to come and save him. your heart had broken, over and over, more and more for this poor man, so accustomed to the torture. he'd taken it all with grace as if he was hearing about someone else and not a past version of himself.

he let you finish, let you get it all out, comforted you as if it wasn't his burden to bear. "i was built to withstand it," he said when you were finished, like it was so simple, "it doesn't make what they did alright, i understand that. but i'm okay, i mean that. i've come a long way, and there's no sense in you worrying, alright?" you wanted to argue, but he had that look in his eye you knew all too well, the one that told you his resolve wouldn't be slipping anytime soon. "yeah, okay," you nodded, finishing your drink with a sigh. "let me walk you up to your room," he stood, holding his arm out for you to take, "and you're sure you weren't hurt, right?" "i'm sure, bucky," you nodded, looping your arm through his, "thank you for checking on me,"

he walked you up as promised, his hand now settled against your back, light enough to prevent coming across as pushy, but firm enough to let you know he had you. you thought, as you walked, that bucky always had you. every mission, he laid his life down for any one of the team, but especially you. he went to such great lengths, every minute, to keep you safe. the idea of this man, this great man, who had been through so much, now devoting his life to protecting other people, was enough to have your eyes stinging with unshed tears by the time you reached your bedroom. "what is it?" he asked, the moment he detected the shining of your eyes, "are you hurt?" "no," you shook your head, a teary laugh escaping your lips, "i'm okay, buck. just- i'm just grateful. you've been through so much, i'm so grateful you're still here, that you're still so good," "oh, красивый," the word caused your brows to furrow, glancing at him curiously. "nothing," he shook his head like he was shaking off a ghost, "you're just very sweet,"

he lingered in your doorway, leaned against the wood, watching as you sat at the edge of your bed. "suits you," he gestured to the plush green bedspread, "i figured that was your favorite, ever since you made a fuss about picking that green flower when we were at the edge of the city," you looked up at him, brows knit, "you remember that?" "i remember everything," he said it as if it was obvious, as simple as breathing, because to him, it had been. you weren't sure how it happened after that. he'd closed the door behind him, stood between your legs, towering over you as he stroked the side of your face with his thumb, an expression that only told you he was holding himself back. "it's me," you murmured, voice uncharacteristically soft, "you can let go, bucky,"

that was all it had taken, the final chip in the iceberg. he kissed you with a fervor, like he was building a new home in your mouth, like he was going to consume you. you knew, distantly, he would. he was stern but gentle, holding you tight but never bruising. his name was on your lips like a prayer, like an absolution, the culmination of your deepest, untapped desire. you reveled in the cool steel of his dog tags, in the bite of his metal arm brushing against your thigh, holding your legs apart to make more room for his broad frame. he kept his eyes on you the entire time, giving you the privilege of watching him unfold, the black of his pupils eating up the blue of his eyes. his lips were bitten until they were red and swollen, his face relaxed for the first time since you'd met him.

"красивый," it fell from his lips again, quiet like he hadn't meant to say it, unable to hold it back when he watched you come undone beneath him. afterwards, you laid your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, your fingers trailing the planes of muscle. "what does it mean? красивый," you cringed at your awkward pronunciation, awaiting his explanation. he didn't give you one at first, just rolled over, pulled his clothes back on with a stifled yawn. he leaned down, pressed a kiss to your head. "don't think we should let the team know about this yet. i'm not trying to run out on you, but you know how they linger," you nodded, smiled hazily up at him, "yeah, it's alright," he paused in the doorway, looked back at you, "it means beautiful,"

everything after that was a blur. stolen kisses behind constantly revolving doors, hands held beneath tables, the brush of thighs when the team got together in the debriefing room. his scent started to linger on your pillow, never having time to fade out completely before he was laid back against it again, the smell of sandalwood and cinnamon, warm like the chai lattes you both liked to sip in the mornings, a rare luxury he allowed himself. the only other luxury he allowed was you, the nights spent curled alongside you in your bed, learning the slopes and planes of your body until he could feel them in the dark. he could recognize the bait of your breath, the soft repeating of his name, committed it to memory until you took up enough space to drown out the nightmares. he'd dreamed of war for so long it was all he knew, the screams, the pleas for him to stop. you were slowly pushing them out, replacing them with your pleas for more, for him to stay. he dreamed of you meeting steve, the three of you being the best of friends back in brooklyn. he dreamed most often of you just the way you were, fighting and uncrushable spirit, bright eyes and sure footed, unshakable determination to do the right thing.

he knew you'd been through things, knew your strengths had not always been an asset, but a curse. he recognized the familiar flinches on missions, the comfort you sought out in the strangest of places, the way you always felt safer when you were cold. he knew you, in some ways, better than he knew himself. he'd almost slipped up, many times, almost called you his girlfriend, his partner, something more than just a friend. he wasn't sure what you were, really, just that you were more himself than he was. he'd finally found something to come home to, another way to heal after all the pain, all the work he'd done. "steve would have loved you," he told you once, watching you draw the curtains closed in his bedroom, your presence filling his space with a light he hadn't felt in years, "would've told me you're too good for me, probably," he smiled when he said it, but the thought pained him, the concept of anyone wanting to take you away from him. "well, he would've been dead wrong," you grinned, dropping into bed beside him, curling up in his lap, "i would've hated to have to fight your friend,"

you were sure yelena knew. she hinted at it more and more, but never pressed, only joked that it was about time. you ignored her, but couldn't ignore the warmth in your chest at the thought of being known, the idea of getting to love bucky publicly. it terrified you, at first, the idea of loving him. but then it came as easy as breathing. he'd placed his dog tags around your neck one night, in a moment of desperate tenderness, entranced by watching them rest against your chest, your skin warming the metal. "they look better on you," he told you, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, "моя звезда," "bucky," you half laughed, half scolded, "no fair. you have to translate," "my star. my beautiful star, моя прекрасная звезда," you kissed him to keep from crying, muffling your moans with his lips when he pulled you into his lap, buried himself inside of you with a newly familiar ease. you kept the tags tucked beneath your shirt and gear, your fingers finding them each time you got overwhelmed or afraid. he was always there, a ghost around your neck, keeping you company no matter how far you went.

he called you to his room one night, months after that very first time, needing you in more ways than he could describe. the second you opened the door, he was on you, pushing it shut and pressing you against it, his lips on yours, hungry and warm. he had you on the bed in seconds, stripped of your clothes soon after, touching you like he'd die if he stopped. "beautiful," he mumbled, cradling the back of your head as he kissed you, sucking in a breath as he slid inside you. he had you beneath him, holding your face in one hand, his metal arm holding your leg up gently. "god, bucky," your eyes rolled back as he worked you the way only he knew how, having learned your body like nothing else, "oh, right there," he let his head fall forward, resting his forehead against yours, hovering just over your lips. "я тебя люблю," he whispered, breathless, "te iubesc, eu te amo, Ich liebe dich,Je vous aime," he had you coming undone before you could question it, his metal fingers cold against your clit, working circles onto it. "oh, god, yes," you gasped, clutching him tightly, trembling in his arms. he groaned as he came, your name on his lips in perfect repetition.

"what were you saying?" you asked, curled in his arms moments later, your chest still rising and falling rapidly, "what language was that?" "russian, romanian, porteguese, german, french," he muttered, running his fingers through your hair, "i know some japanese as well, some others. if you're interested," "just want to know what you said," you rolled your eyes with no real malice, "in english, please," "maybe you should learn russian, smart girl," he teased, tickling your side lightly, "i'll even say it slow for you," "i'll just google it," you huffed, rolling over to reach for your phone. he moved to stop you, a shining look of fear in his eyes, "wait-" you'd already typed in a butchered version of the romanian version, your eyes darting from the phone screen to bucky's conflicted expression. "bucky, this- it says i love you, so i'm sure i spelled it wrong-" "i love you," it fell from his lips like an admission of guilt, "in all of the languages i know, i love you. but this is the only one you can understand, so it's the only one that matters. i love you,"

"oh my god," you dropped your phone onto the bed, your eyes welling with tears, "you-" "it's been a long time since i was sure of anything. i learned to second guess everyone, everything, but you? you're- god, you're this shining beacon, this impossible way to move on, this hope. you're you, you're beautiful and strong and it's such a privilege to know you at all. and i don't deserve you, but i'll die trying to become the sort of man who does," "bucky," you laughed, breathless, "bucky, you idiot, of course you deserve me," you fell into his arms, buried your face in his neck, "i love you, i- i don't know those languages, te amo is all i know, but this is my favorite," you pulled back to kiss him, quick but meaningful, "i love you," he looked like he might sob, pulling you tight to his chest, holding you with both arms enveloping your body. "i love you," he repeated into your hair, voice trembling. "i love you," you murmured, "it feels so good to finally say that,"

later, when he'd fucked you speechless once again, he played with your fingers, humming contently. "we should probably tell everyone," you yawned, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, "not that they don't already know," "i'll tell everyone in the world," he laughed, "we'll tell them in the morning, alright? can't believe you're my girl," he kissed you, short and sweet, "we can tell them we're going steady," "it's not the 40s anymore, old man," you teased, but a part of you ached for that brooklyn boy and all the dates he'd never get to go on, "but yeah, sure. we're going steady. hey, maybe you can take me down to the sockhop-" "shut up," he groaned, burying his face in your neck, but you could feel his smile against your skin. "i mean it," you said softly, "i want to do all the things with you that we never got to do," "there's no one i'd rather do it with," he brushed his lips against your cheek, "моя звезда,"

[wildflowersandvibranium]

Muscle Memory : Chapter One

Pairing: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS Restaurant Owner Bucky Barnes x Cardiac Surgeon Female Reader Alternate Universe

Series Summary: In a town that never forgets , she thought she could hide the bruises behind a perfect smile and life. But someone from her past sees too much—and remembers everything. sorry its so vague just don't want to give too much away!

Chapter Word Count: 3.1k +

Series Warning: DOMESTIC VIOLENCE!!! its a big theme in this series so protect yourself if that is triggering for you! Physical and Verbal Abuse to Reader (never from Bucky) , injury , trauma , nothing graphic. Will update accordingly as the story goes on!!!

Chapter One Warnings: mentions of abusive father & abusive fiancé to reader , protective comforting Bucky , mentions of blood , injuries and bruises , mentions of food and drinks , ft: Wanda Maximoff and OC! Tyler (readers fiancé)

If i missed anything let me know!

Author Note: my first series everrrrr im so exciteddd this is my baby and have had the idea for something like this since before i started writing! Next chapter is already written and will be posted soon! if you would like to be tagged let me know!! enjoy bbys 💖

Chapter One Chapter Two posting June 4th!!!

SERIES MASTERLIST 🫶🏼

MAIN MASTERLIST 🌷

The city hadn't changed much since the years she had been gone. 

Not really anyway.

Sure , a few new high-rises had wedged themselves into the skyline like eager newcomers squished together in a family photo , but the old angles were still there , stoic , sharp, familiar. 

Streetlights blinked in the same rhythm she had remembered. 

The sidewalks hadn’t forgotten her footsteps.

 Every block and street corner seemed to hum with memories , as if the pavement itself still carried the echoes of teenage laughter , secret tears , and plans whispered under a sky full of stars.

The hospital loomed tall and pristine in the distance , sterile and gleaming. 

But to her , it didn’t look cold. 

It looked like triumph. 

Like reclamation.

Like she’d pulled herself from the mud and built a cathedral with her own hands. 

It stood on the same hill where she’d once sat with blooming bruises and a heart too shattered for her young age 

Where she would always look up and swear that one day , she’d make it. 

That one day , she’d wear the white coat , sign the charts , hold the scalpel , save the lives.

Now she was Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. Cardiothoracic Surgeon and head of the entire department. 

Not a visitor. Not a student. Not someone passing through.

She had come home.

And yet—

As the moving truck sputtered away down the street , leaving the scent of diesel and the echo of squeaky brakes in its wake , she stood frozen on the front step of the townhouse. 

Her townhouse. The key dug into her palm as she gripped the metal.

. Her stomach was a fist , clenched tight and turning.

“Looks good , huh babe?”  Tyler’s voice broke the moment. 

He slipped up beside her and smashed his lips into her face kissing her cheek ,  too rough , and too hard. 

His arm wrapped around her shoulders like a noose dressed up , and disguised by comfort and his false charm.

“Yeah , it looks great. ” she said meekly.

But her eyes stayed focused on the street instead of the home. 

Tracing the curves of the curbs and gutters she once knew like the back of her hand. 

She could still see the old versions of herself darting past mailboxes and garbage cans , chasing time , chasing escape.

Tyler didn’t notice the catch in her voice when she answered.

Or at least he chose not to.

Inside her jacket pocket , her hand clenched around the metal keyring as the years came crashing back. Trying to ground her spiraling mind. Being back here came like a flood.

The summers. 

The scraped palms. 

The nights hiding from her father’s drunken rages. 

She remembered the feel of bark against her skin as she climbed the backyard oak , the sting of bruises and cuts she didn’t talk about , the muffled arguments that never stayed inside her family's walls. 

Bucky Barnes had been her lifeline—mud on his knees , flashlight in hand , whispering jokes in the dark while she tried not to cry too loud.

Even as a small boy who didn't understand how your dad , who all he knew of parents was nurturing love ; could hurt a girl like you so badly.

 But he would still hold you as you wept on his shoulder wetting his little polo shirt with your tears.

She could still hear his voice telling her they’d leave someday. 

That they’d go far. He would take her away from here and from the pain. That they’d never come back unless it was on their terms. Not forced.

And they actually had.

They left the city and went to the same college in the next state over. 

She’d go on to study hearts. He’d studied business.

They had run. Two kids with a car full of borrowed time and little money they saved.

They had done what they dreamed about.

But even the best dreams crack when reality sets in.

✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

Her ring caught the sunlight. 

It was beautiful—flawless. A large round diamond sat on a thick gold band. It was impressive and some would say remarkable. 

She would get stopped by women in grocery store lines saying how they wished they had a man like yours. Or you would get flooded with the “you are one lucky girl” 

You scoffed thinking of that. Lucky.

Tyler had proposed in Paris on a weekend trip just the two of you , he got down on one knee in front of the eiffel tower with a camera crew he’d hired for the moment. 

It was public , polished , perfect. Just like him.

What no one saw was what came after the perfection and cameras. 

No one saw the beating you endured if you looked at the pizza delivery guy a beat too long , or if a barista wrote his number on your coffee cup. 

Tyler would show you with his fists and strength how you weren't good enough or pretty enough. That you're stuck with him because he's the only one who can love someone like you.

People didn't see the way he always apologizes too fast after the beatings , always circling back saying it was your fault. 

He had brainwashed you into staying, believing his words in between slaps and punches.

The way his smile turned mean when he thought no one was watching. How his touch sometimes lingered in ways that weren’t tender or loving.

How she had learned to brace herself every time he raised a hand or tight fist near her at home.

✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

That first night back to her hometown , after boxes were half-unpacked and furniture half-placed where it belonged, Tyler unbuttoned his shirt in the kitchen and groaned utterly exhausted

 “Let’s get dinner. I found a spot people swear by around here”

She dropped the last box she carried into the kitchen with a soft thud. 

“Yes please, I'm starving , what were you thinking?” 

“Found this restaurant and pub downtown , called Buck’s. It's really popular ‘round here.”

The name hit like a punch to the ribs.

Her breath hitched.

“Buck’s?” she repeated , too fast.

He didn’t notice.

“Yeah. Local staple or something. Said it got a new owner recently looks good online.” He smirked. “Should be fun.”

She forced a nod , but something inside her had already shifted. 

It was subtle , almost imperceptible , like the first hairline fracture in a porcelain vase that was just about to crack.

   ✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

Buck’s looked like something out of a memory she’d tucked away too carefully.

The kind you don’t mean to keep , but never really lose. 

It hit her the second she stepped inside—warm amber lighting spilling across polished dark wood floor and ceilings , the low murmur of conversation and laughter , clinking glasses with the clack of the pool balls being pocketed  , and the faint scratch of a needle on vinyl as some old soul record spun behind the bar.

It smelled like smoked cedar , aged bourbon , and something sweet sizzling from the kitchen , probably a fresh cobbler or pastry.

It had to be Bucky’s place. 

It felt like him. 

It was honest , solid , warm at the edges and stubborn in the bones.

And there , along the back wall , were a large gallery of photos.

Black and white , sepia-toned , some a little faded with time. 

High school football teams , parades , the town's winter festivals , and a massive framed shot of their old neighborhood during a block party.

 She saw it instantly: the two houses side by side , hers painted in peeling blue and white shutters , his in sun-bleached brick with ivy vines crawling up the sides. 

That same crooked and overly worn fence. And that same tree she used to climb when the yelling got too loud.

Her fingers twitched at her sides.

Tyler was talking to the hostess , probably making a show of using his full name. Always networking , always turning charm into currency. 

She kept her eyes low as they followed the hostess to a table near the bar , but her ears strained for a sound she hadn’t heard in a decade.

And it came booming from the kitchen.

The black double doors swung open with a familiar squeak.

A voice called out something to the bartender—gruff , amused , easy.

She didn’t have to look , she knew.

But she did anyway.

And there he was.

Bucky Barnes.

Not seventeen anymore. 

Not that reckless boy with scraped red knuckles and a mop of brown curly hair.

No—this man was grounded. Worn in the way good leather is worn , weathered by life , yes , but built to last. 

He was a true man now. His beard was thick , touched with sun or maybe lightning with stress. His hair was pulled back in a small knot at the nape of his neck. His black T-shirt clung to shoulders broader than she remembered , and his sleeves were rolled high , revealing strong muscles and tanned forearms that moved with a calm purpose.

He looked like he belonged here. 

Like he'd carved this place out of his own heart and life and made something beautiful out of it.

And then , his eyes found hers.

It was like being punched in the throat and kissed in the best way , all at the same time.

A split second of stillness.

No breath. No noise.

Till his mouth moved before his mind betraying him.

“Y/N?”

It left his mouth half-disbelieving , half-hopeful , like maybe saying it would make her real.

She stood by the table as Tyler sat down , heart hammering like it was trying to break right out of her chest. 

“Hi.” she whispered.

He crossed the space between them in seconds. 

His arms went around her without hesitation , and she let him. 

She melted into him like a memory finding its shape again. 

His scent hit her like a freight train of nostalgia. Soap , whiskey , and something smoky she couldn’t name , probably whatever was on the grill currently.

“You’re really here,” he said softly against her ear , his voice hoarse.      “God, it’s been…”

“Too long , I know , I got a job at the hospital so I'm back for good.” she said, and it felt like truth was unburied.

They sat there just–smiling , taking in the other after years of yearning.

Then she remembered. Tyler.

She pulled back , the present slamming into her like a cold wind. 

“Um sorry t-this is Tyler, my fiance, and Ty this is Bucky , he owns the restaurant” she said , her tone shifting as she stepped aside her voice laced with something like shame or guilt.

Tyler stood and offered his hand , perfectly pleasant. 

“It's good to meet you , Bucky. Nice place you’ve got. Y/N used to live around here.”

Bucky’s eyes stayed on her for just a beat too long. As she was looking down at her feet.

Then he looked at Tyler and shook his hand. 

His grip was firm. Controlled. “You can call me James , and yeah. We grew up together next door.”

“Oh okay , James. So are you two like childhood friends?” Tyler said with a question.

Bucky gave a nod , slow and unreadable eyes flicking back to her. “Something like that.”

Then with a nod to Y/N he was gone , retreating to the bar like nothing had happened. 

Like the earthquake of seeing her again , here , hadn’t cracked his foundation wide open.

But when he came back with drinks , his hands were steady.

 He placed the glass in front of her , and as she reached for it with a “Thank you” , her sweater sleeve slipped back.

Just a few inches. Too much.

The bruise on her arm was yellow at the edges , fading and older, but unmistakable.

His eyes flicked down.

He saw it. But said nothing.

Maybe it was from her recent moving , a couch hitting too hard or a box being dropped he tried to convince himself.

But the smile that had been there just a moment ago didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. 

His jaw clenched. The muscle twitched once.

He turned and walked away , saying something about getting back to work.

He didn’t look back as he walked towards  the kitchen.

✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

They finished dinner , but the food tasted like nothing. She was numb.

Tyler kept up a steady stream of chatter , about how impressed he was with the décor and vibe of the place , how his clients would love this place , and how maybe they should come here more often. 

She nodded when it seemed appropriate , murmured agreement when he looked her way for her input , but her mind wasn’t in the room or focused on the food she was now picking at. 

It was back at the bar. 

Back on Bucky’s face. Back on that fraction of a second when the bruise on her arm shifted the entire gravity of the evening.

He had seen it.

Of course he had.

She wondered if he’d known instantly , or if his brain had a moment to mistake it for something else. 

He knew what bruises like that meant. Knew what kind of silence came with them. They had both lived together in that silence once.

And now , he was watching her live in it again.

Tyler reached across the table , fingers lacing with hers.

She didn’t flinch this time but only because she had learned not to. If she flinched or recoiled from his touch in public Tyler got angry and would “give her something to flinch for” at home after words. 

When they paid the bill and Y/N gave a small wave to Bucky as they were leaving , they walked out into the cool night air. 

The sky had dipped into a deep navy , and the streetlights flickered to life in a staggered procession. She wrapped her arms around herself , more for comfort than the cold.

“Not bad,” Tyler said, stretching like a man satisfied with himself. “Good food. Friendly people. Might even beat that French place downtown I saw had better reviews.”

She forced a smile. “Yeah. I-It was nice.”

Her voice stuttered wearily; it didn't sound like hers.

And then , across the street—a familiar voice cut through the night like a firecracker.

“Y/N?! No way!”

She turned instinctively , and a blur of red hair was already coming at her.

“Wanda?” Her voice cracked under the weight of disbelief and joy.

Wanda Maximoff hit her like a hurricane of happiness , throwing her arms around her with a squeal that made a couple people on the sidewalk turn their heads. 

“Oh my God , what are you doing here? Are you back back?!”

“Yeah back for good , I just moved in,” Y/N managed, laughing through the emotion thick in her throat. “Took a position at the hospital.”

Wanda’s eyes widened. “Wait—the cardio position? That’s you? Vision said some hotshot was coming in to lead the department , but he never said it was you!”

Y/N flushed , laughing for real this time. “Hotshot’s a bit of a stretch Wans.” 

“No way, you’re a legend already.” Wanda grabbed both her hands. 

“You have to come to my wedding. We’re doing it here—Buckys letting us use the rooftop. I’ll text you the date!. You better not have plans.”

“I—uh—”

“Please. Everyone’s gonna lose their minds when they see you.”

“I’d love to , of course I'll be there,” Y/N said , surprised to realize she meant it.

Wanda beamed , already pulling out her phone. 

“Perfect. I’ll text you. And , hey! Welcome home, okay? You're really home.”

She gave one last hug and jogged back across the street to her group, disappearing into the night with a smile over her shoulder.

Y/N stood still for a second , stunned by how effortlessly the past had folded itself back around her like a worn-in sweater. The warmth of it. The weight of it. 

Her phone vibrated and she saw the invite from Wanda sent with lots of kissing emojis.

“Small town,” Tyler muttered. “Everyone knows everyone.”

There was a tone in his voice , slight, off—but she didn’t take the bait.

She just smiled quietly , pocketing her phone and hands.

As they walked down the block toward their house , her eyes flicked back—just once.

Inside the restaurant , behind the tall windows glowing golden in the dark , she saw Bucky.

Leaning against the bar still , towel over his shoulder, arms crossed tight. Watching. Not glaring. Not starring.

Just watching her.

His face was still. But his eyes—

His eyes burned.

He had seen the bruise. And he had seen the way she flinched when Tyler lifted his hand , even if it was only to brush away a stray hair on her forehead.

He had seen it. He remembered what that looked like.

He remembered it too well. And this time , he wasn’t seventeen. He wasn’t helpless. He wasn’t leaving.

This time, he had roots here. A life. A place that was his.

And now , she was finally here, too.

-end

CHAPTER TWO POSTING JUNE 4th!!

thank you so much for reading! 🥹

Comments , Reblogs , Likes and Requests are always loved!

(although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience)

They let me know that you are enjoying what I'm publishing and gives me motivation to write more and more! :33

[abbysdollie]

The blackest day. Misogynistic Abby x fem reader.

Hi Angels !! Here’s the misogynistic Abby fic ! Writing this was definitely something, please mind the warnings because this one is pretty dark. There is no smut !! I love you guys and please take care of yourselves ! 𓆩♡𓆪

CW: misogynistic Abby duh. Slapping, punching, hair grabbing. Degrading names used. Abuse is the norm for people. Just lots of abuse. Abby is so mean. Huge warning for domestic violence !!

DARK CONTENT AHEAD YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !! MINORS AND MEN DNI !!

When you and Abby first got together, you thought you had found the love of your life, your soulmate, but as time went on, you started to realize maybe you were blinded. You ignored all the red flags in the beginning, and there were quite a few. You started noticing them towards that one-year anniversary mark with her, the videos she would send you on Instagram or TikTok. The photos she would like to send you.

They all had a common theme, it was all tradwife content where it was obvious that the woman was not happy with her 10 kids and her husband who looks abusive as fuck. Or those videos of women who would live as 1950s housewives—it was all odd, yet you never questioned it. After the wedding with Abby, you notice so many changes in her. She was always making super misogynistic comments. Things like

‘Women belong at home.’

‘Women obey their partners.’

Always something along those lines, the comments angered you to no end. Abby seemed to forget that those apply to her too. So you fought with her over them, telling her to watch it, but you soon would figure out that Abby’s plan was to break you.

Abby comes home from work, that day in particular you didn’t really do anything cause you didn’t have the energy. when she gets back her demeanor is different, the air feels thick, suffocating, it's not comfortable. Her footsteps echo loudly as she makes her way towards you. Abby had a mean look on her face, looking around she found nothing.

“What did you do all day?” Abby's voice is loud and it echoes around the room. Looking at her you look confused, what does she mean? You woke up, got ready, ate, cleaned a bit and then relaxed. What more did she want?

“What do you mean?” she didn't let you finish before her hand grips your forearm, yanking you up she drags you to the bedroom and opens the closet. Abby throws all your clothes on the bed except the ones she got for you—all your pants, leggings, tops, all of it gine. The dresses, skirts and shirts Abby got you are staying. “Abby what the fuck are you doing? Are you insane?” Ignoring you, she takes them all, throws them in a bag, and drags you and the bag out to the backyard, to the bonfire pit.

“Wait Abby, no—what are-” All of your clothes are dumped, and Abby throws a match in before you can stop it. You watch in shock and horror as your clothes are burning. You scream at her but she gets sick and backhands you hard. Yanking your arm she drags you back inside to the kitchen where she throws you against the counter. “Youre a married woman know your fucking place, from now on there are rules, rember them or face the consequences.” You're still shaking and crying from the clothes and slap. It takes you a little bit to recover from the events that played out but when you do it’s all hell from there.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you Abby?! What was that for?” Screaming at her pushing at her chest, Abby’s hand grabs your wrist squeezing tightly. Harshly she shoves you against the wall knocking the wind out of you. Gasping, you try to wiggle out but she’s way stronger than you.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that woman, you understand me? Come on answer” the way she said that added more fuel to the flame inside of you; what you do next catches Abby off guard. You spit in her face and push at her chest. Running to the living room you grab your keys and grab your keys, and Abby follows you out. As you got coser to your car you see all four of your fucking tires slashed, what the fuck?? You can't dwell on it for too long before Abby grabs you by the arm and tries to drag you back, seeing you are not letting her win easily, so you give her hell.

Screaming, kicking her leg, flailing your arms in all directions trying to hit her, unfortunately she overpowers you and gets you inside, where she throws you over her shoulder, making her way to the bedroom. Abby throws you on the bed, but you quickly get up.

“Abby what the fuck ! what the fuck is wrong with you ? I will not let myself be disrespected like this.” It's like talking to a brick wall. Abby's back is turned to you the whole time. After a while of hurling insults at her, she finally turns around, but you don't expect her to backhand you across the face, not giving you time to recover before landing another slap to your cheek. Her hands cradle your face, but not in a gentle, caring way, no. It's a harsh grip, one that hurts and will leave your jaw aching.

“Things are going to be run differently from now on, okay? I expect you to be up every morning at 6am sharp, help me get ready for work, get breakfast ready and my lunch should be ready too. I want you to dress in whatever I choose for you every day now, no more whorish clothes. I expect this house to be clean everyday and dinner on the table when I come home, you better start acting like a proper woman because we will be having dinner at my parents house in two weeks. understood ?”

You felt sick to your stomach. Was this really the woman you married? No, it couldn't be. No, no, you had to change her. I mean, could you? Would she give up these misogynist traditional ways? You don't know actually, and the chances of Abby agreeing to a divorce were so slim. Feeling tired and defeated you just agree.

“Yes abby” abby looks at you and releases your face, giving both of your cheeks kisses. The night goes by normally as if nothing happened but the sting on your cheeks were the reminder of what's to come.

A week goes by and you feel exhausted and completely hopeless. Abby is relentless in her ways not letting you have any breaks except for when you sleep, this is the definition of hell to you. Everything had to get through Abby first which made it so hard to do anything, you wanted that outfit, she had to approve first. You want to go out with them; Abby has to say yes and know your exact location. It was just Abby centered everything; you soon found that fighting against Abby was futile because she was not afraid to put you back into your place. The slaps, punches, kicks, punches, hair pulling, burns ,was all that she used. Your body was broken and beaten, bruises everywhere, cuts all over you, and it had only been a week. Abby was not the woman you once knew.

Talking to the other women in the neighborhood did you no good, because they were envious and jealous that you had gotten to marry Abby and be her wife. To them, the abuse and you begging them for help were dramatic, and every marriage has a bit of abuse in it. Quickly you put the pieces together and came to the conclusion that these women were equally as brainwashed as Abby.

You saw how they covered up the bruises, the eye bags from barely getting sleep. Discussing the best concealer and foundation out there for those bruises and eyebags and burn marks. This was the norm for them and it killed you. How do you get away from this? I mean could you?

The family dinner was a disaster. Abby gave you absolute hell that day; she came home from work earlier, and she was pissed to see that her suit wasn't ironed. You desperately tried to explain to her that you had ironed it but the hanger probably left a small crease, the answer pissed her off because next thing you know her fist comes swinging at you face full force. You get knocked back into your vanity, where your bottle of perfume falls over, landing right on you. Tears well up in your eyes as Abby crouches down in front of you, grabbing your jaw in her strong grip, forcing you to look at her even though your eye is in pain.

“Do not give me backtalk, ever. Now get up and make yourself look decent, dont fucking embarass me infront of my family, okay?” Abby lets you go and you just sit there reflecting and crying. What is this life? Quilt, you get up and see that there is a big black bruise on your eye now. Sighing heavily, you just get your dress on and do your makeup and hair. After an hour you go and meet Abby downstairs; she sees you and smiles, “My beautiful girl, let's go now.”

The drive is hell for you. Lets just say when you get there it's known that they hate you, the comments about your appearances, needing to lose weight, maybe investing in plastic surgery. Or how you're not a good housewife and that Abby needs to “keep you on a leash” or “train you better” as if you were a fucking dog. You kept your mouth shut because you were afraid of Abby, her icy cold glare daring you to say something. The night goes on and by the end when you and Abby finally leave its like a fresh breath of air on the drive abby is silent the whole way home which is kinda nice but the silence is super eerie. When she gets home she goes straight to the couch, her legs spread, she lets out a big sigh and loosens her tie. You plop down on the couch opposite to her and talk.

“Your family is kinda crazy, i mean wow your mother -” You didn't even see her get up before you felt a slap on your face. You hold your cheek and look at her, she was undoing her belt, rolling up her sleeves she brings the belt down onto your back. Getting up you try to run away but she grabs your hair and throws you on the ground, your legs start swinging trying to kick her legs. You scream and cry, but she doesn't let up.

“Who gave you the right to talk about my family that way, you whore? I own you okay, you're mine.” her belt swings down on your legs and back, your throat hurts everythings sore. At the end when she's down she tells you to clean yourself up and goes to bed, leaving you all alone sobbing on the cold floor.

Tags 𓆩♡𓆪 @bvtchbait @sleepinginherbed @sleeplessbunni @abbysluckycharm @meowiu @elsroseytoy @elswhore @tqlepatia @messybruises @graciedollie @h2pinky @tiffys-posts + let me know if I missed you or if you wanna be tagged !!

[lsunstreakerl]

1.4k darkbull! max POV, post-kidnapping, domestic max/carlos/daniel/oscar. featuring a question that makes everybody internally panic and pancakes. no smut, but darkbull, so. mature content implied and all that.

It slips out when Max is in the bath. Oscar is sitting on the floor, back against the wall as he scrolls his phone, Carlos is in the kitchen, and Daniel is behind Max, gently running shampoo through his hair.

"Did Red Bull kill my dad?"

He can feel Daniel freeze against him, and Oscar stops scrolling, eyes widening as he fights to stay still. Daniel recovers first, folding a palm across Max's eyes.

"I'm going to rinse."

Max dutifully keeps them shut as warm water rushes across his hair, a few stray drops running down his nose. Daniel's fingers are confident as they scrub across his scalp, and Max is relaxed, feels more like a human shaped lump of goo than anything else.

"Where'd that come from?"

His voice is even, but Max notices the thin thread of tension, the lack of outright denial. Oscar is still tense, but his fingers are moving on the screen, texting someone. They've all got the wrong idea.

"I don't care if they did, I am just..."

He leans his cheek against Daniel's shoulder, sighing. He's so comfortable here, spoiled by his three boyfriends.

"I am wondering."

Daniel hums softly, one hand stroking across Max's side underwater. He does it frequently when he's nervous, like a self soothing motion, except he does it to Max. It works well, always makes Max want to dip back into his fuzzy headspace where he doesn't have to think at all.

"I wasn't around for that, so I wouldn't know, and neither would Oscar. I'm sure if you have suspicions GP would talk to you about it."

It's a good deflection. Max doesn't care that much, it's really only crossed his mind because they're reaching Jos' death date. Normally he doesn't think about it at all, but in light of everything that's happened with Charles, learning about the trackers and the drugs... the idea had crossed his mind, and he hasn't be able to shake it.

"Okay."

He stays curled into Daniel as he's lifted out of the bath, and then Oscar has a warm towel scrubbing at his head, and Daniel has wrapped him in another one. Max leans into it, finally getting his feet underneath him, and he snorts when Oscar lifts the towel and he can see his hair in the mirror.

"Osc, mate."

Daniel laughs, ruffling his hair further, and there's an amused note to Oscar's voice.

"You look like a hedgehog."

He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"But a sexy hedgehog."

"A what—"

Max cuts himself off with a laugh, squinting at Oscar. Daniel squeezes his hip, dropping another kiss at Max's shoulder. They'd fucked him before he got in the bath, but sometimes they like going again afterwards— Carlos claims it's something about seeing him so relaxed, naked except for his jewelry that never comes off.

Still. Max wants to eat first if he's going to be coming again.

"Dinner?"

His voice is hopeful, and both Daniel and Oscar seem to snap back to themselves, nodding. Max slips into a pair of shorts— they must be from the private AlphaTauri line, because they're shorter than anything else he owns, with an embroidered Red Bull logo just above his thigh. The shirt is definitely not his, wide in the shoulders and well worn. It probably belongs to Carlos, but Max knows he doesn't care.

The kitchen smells like cinnamon, and Max makes it two steps behind the kitchen island before Carlos is tapping at his nose, gently nudging him back out.

"No, I'm not done yet."

Max wrinkles his nose, resisting the urge to sneeze. There's flour on Carlos' hands, which means there's probably flour on his nose now as well.

"But you are making pancakes."

Carlos grins, pointing a finger at him.

"Yes, making. As in, I am still working on them."

Max will eat raw batter, he doesn't mind. He tries to sidestep Carlos and get past him, but he feels Oscar's hands wrap around his waist, tugging him back into a slim chest.

"Don't worry Carlos, Danny and I will keep him entertained."

Max pouts, but he lets himself be dragged into the living room, immediately perking up when he realizes Daniel is laid out on the couch, loading up Call of Duty. Oscar groans, dragging over a large pillow on the floor as he sits, back leaned against the couch. Max curls up just behind him, folded shins resting against his shoulders as he takes his own controller.

------

He wins every round. Oscar is getting better, but Daniel is still completely hopeless, and demands kisses after each lost round as reparations for how Max must be cheating. Max tells him primly that is of course not how it works, but indulges him anyway, settling halfway into Daniel's lap. His fingers creep up Max's thigh under the hem of his shorts higher each time, and he grins against Max's mouth when he shivers.

"Daniel."

Oscar sounds mildly annoyed, flicking Daniel's knee.

"Food."

Daniel sighs, shifting Max off of his lap.

"Killjoy."

Oscar is the strictest of the three of them about trying to keep Max on a schedule during non racing weeks. Max thinks it has something to do with how he'd seen him with Charles, constantly disoriented and begging for anything.

If they wanted to keep Max tied down for an entire day, he'd let them. But he's unsure if it would bring back bad memories or not, and Oscar seems to know Max's limits even better than he does, so he likes to listen.

He curls into his side of the couch, eyelids heavy, dropping one arm off the side to clasp his fingers together with Oscar. They've all been perfect this week, always knowing exactly what Max needs.

Oscar squeezes back, repositioning slightly so Max can be comfortable. Daniel has switched to a different channel— there's a sailing competition on now— and Max can hear Carlos singing softly in the kitchen as he drifts back off.

------

There's a heavy hand dragging through his hair, and Max can smell cinnamon and Carlos' cologne, blearily waking up. Carlos is leaned back against the couch, and he has Max pulled on top of him, lying against his chest. Max shifts with a small noise as the conversation around him cuts off, and then Carlos' fingers are tipping his chin up, kissing him gently.

He sighs into it, eyes still half shut. Daniel has a palm curled warm over his ankle, and Oscar has his head resting against his thigh. Carlos pulls back, reaching over to a plate on the coffee table, tearing off a chunk of the pancake at the top of the stack.

Max shifts, preparing to wiggle his arm out and grab it, but Carlos uses his arm across Max's stomach and tugs him back in place, hand splayed wide across his skin. Max rolls his eyes but drops his mouth open, letting Carlos nudge the piece between his teeth.

They've all got their own little kinks they think he doesn't know about— Daniel with his blindfolds, Oscar with his tears, Carlos and his constant need to be taking care of Max in his entirety. There's been a few times where Max has been near or entirely immobilized, and while the other two flit in and out, Carlos never leaves.

Max used to think Carlos got off on his helplessness, and sometimes he still does, but he's learned over the years that Carlos enjoys the softness just as much. The quiet moments where he's kneeling in front of Max and wiping at his lashes, when he holds him close in the evenings and presses kisses into his hair.

Moments like this one, where he's carefully tearing off chunks of pancake to feed to Max. Max goes along with it like he always does, listening to Carlos' heartbeat under his ear, playfully nipping at his fingertips when he's not quick enough to withdraw his hand.

He's fairly confident they don't want to fuck again. Everything's too languid, orange light spilling in through the window, syrupy slow and sweet. There's a chance they end up falling asleep out here— a rarity, but not unheard of.

He stretches his legs further into Daniel's lap, twisting to tuck his face into the crook of Carlos' shoulder. GP will want to talk to him about Jos tomorrow, because Max has no doubts that was who Oscar had texted, but for now he's content just like this, spoiled and sleepy.

[the-drift-journal]

Commitment

Summary: The whole marriage thing always sort of scared JJ, but when it came to you, it was something he longed for.

Warnings: Language, kissing, slight biting (as a joke), marriage, this one's pretty long

You and JJ had taken the boat out to get some gas and he had run into the marina while it was filling up to grab two ice cream sandwiches, which the two of you had just finished. JJ was sitting back against the edge of the boat, one leg crossed over the other as he listened to the sounds of the marsh as the sun went down. He wasn’t really looking at anything in particular, more so just spacing out and enjoying the peacefulness of it all. You smiled as you watched him and tucked the wrapper from your ice cream into some random cup holder, not caring that you would hear about that from Pope later. JJ looked over at you, noticing your smile and your eyes focused on him.

“Whatcha starin’ at?”

“You.”

“Why’re you staring at me?” He asked with a slight tilt of his head and your smile grew at his question.

“Cause I like your face.” The response came from you like it was obvious why you had been staring. It was quite true, you were very fond of his face, from his baby blue eyes right down to his jawline.

“Oh, you like my face, do ya?”

“It’s a good face…” You moved closer to him and intertwined one of your hands with his, holding it up as a sort of gesture, “…I like these too.” He smirked at your continued list of things you liked about him as he grabbed one of your hips and pulled you towards him.

“My hands? Whaddya like about my hands?”

“Dunno, just like ‘em.” He had a soft smile on his face as he listened to your response. God, he loved you. You trailed your fingers up his arm for a second before biting his bicep lightly. It was just right there, out in the open, and it looked very biteable. That’s the only available explanation you had for that action. JJ clicked his tongue as he huffed out a laugh, dragging you closer to him.

“You little weirdo. C’mere.” A moment of silence passed between the two of you before JJ spoke again. “Hey… can I ask you somethin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Promise you won’t freak out.” He watched your face intently and you tried to figure out why he seemed so serious all of a sudden. You turned around in his lap so it was easier to look at him. “Y/n, seriously. Promise you won’t freak out.”

“Why would I freak out? Did you do something stupid?” You squinted your eyes in suspicion as you looked at him, trying to figure out what the hell he was getting at.

“No, no. S’not something I already did… it’s something I want…” You nodded slowly as he spoke, letting him know that you were somewhat tracking with what he was saying.

“Something you want…” He nodded and looked away for a second, his fingers fiddling with the edges of your shorts. JJ took a deep breath before looking back up and meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah… and I’m nervous you’re gonna like… hate me for it.”

“Okay, first of all, not gonna hate you for it. Second of all, what is it? Do you want some random tattoo or something?” You knew he had done some random stick and poke, but maybe he wanted another one? You kind of never knew when it came to JJ, and you were still under the assumption that it was something stupid.

“Not a tattoo. M’ much more nervous about this than getting a tattoo.” You furrowed your eyebrows at the continued serious tone in his voice.

“Just say it, Jayj.”

“Promise me. Promise me you won’t say no right off the bat.” You tilted your head as your suspicion grew. His constant need for reassurance was making you nervous.

“Alright… I don’t know why you’re so nervous, it’s not like you’re gonna say you wanna get married-” You watched his face change as those words left your lips in a rather flippant tone.

“Funny you should say that…” He went quiet as he trailed off, hearing the word ‘married’ come out of your mouth. He was worried you were going to figure out where this was going and bail, and one of his hands that had found your hip a few moments ago, tightened its hold. “Before you say nothin’, just let me talk, alright?”

“Right… but I just said ‘married’ and you-” He held up his finger to stop you, cutting you off before you could ramble.

“I know, I know, but let me talk, okay?” JJ took a deep, shaky breath as he tried his best to quiet his thoughts.

“Kay-” You nodded as you looked at him, your brain wracking to figure out where this was going and why he reacted that way to you bringing up marriage.

“Alright, alright.” He took another deep breath, his hand still holding onto your hip but with less firm of a grip, shaking ever so slightly from the nerves. “I’m not great with words, so…” He sighed softly as he closed his eyes for a second before opening them again. “I love you, alright? I love you like I’ve never loved anyone else… you know that.”

“Yeah.” You responded in a soft tone with a small nod, wanting to let him know you were listening without making him lose his train of thought.

“So, I wanna do this right, cause you deserve that and a hell of a lot more…” One of his hands lifted to gently hold your cheek, feeling a comfort wash over him as you leaned into the touch. “I’m just gonna say it straight up so you don’t freak out…” Your eyes darted back and forth between his own as you watched his every move. “…I wanna marry you.”

“…See, now I get the reaction you had earlier when I brought it up.” You bit your bottom lip between your teeth after speaking with a smile. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.  

“And… you haven’t said no yet.” His thumb traced your jawline as he looked at you intently.

“Not gonna.” His smile grew as he heard those words leave your lips.

“Yeah?”

“Jayj, I’m on board as long as you realize that we’re only 19.” Sarah and John B had technically been married since 17 because of that maritime law or something, so why does it matter if you’re 19?

“I know, I know. Not saying we gotta get hitched tomorrow or anything, just someday, you know? I know it’s probably dumb and crazy to be thinkin’ of these kinds of things right now, but I just- I want to be with you for the rest of my life…” He spoke in a soft tone, honestly meaning every word he said even if he felt a little awkward for pulling the ‘for the rest of my life’ card. “…I just really love you.”

“Why couldn’t we?” Your question sort of threw him off for a moment, thinking you would agree with him for thinking it was stupid to talk about these things right now.

“What do you mean ‘why couldn’t we’?”

“You said you’re not asking to get hitched tomorrow…” He looked at you with a sly smirk as you explained.

“You trying to go get married tomorrow or somethin’?” To which you replied with a simple shrug of your shoulders. “You want me to put a ring on it right now, baby?” The nickname alone made a smile appear on your lips. He knew the likelihood of that was quite low, but it wasn’t like he didn’t want to think about it… imagine it. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a ring to put on your finger.

“We can find something around the boat to be a ring…” You smiled as you spoke and started looking around for something that resembled a ring sort of shape. You didn’t care if it was a bent paperclip on your finger, you just wanted to get married to him.

“Y/n, we are not finding some trash off of the boat to be a ring, that’s where I’m drawing the line.” You shook your head as you kept looking around, pulling your hand from his as you did so. Normally, yeah, JJ was willing to cheap out on things like the used and quite moldy wood he had found on some random property to build the surf shop, but not on this. Not on you.

“Oh c’mon, there’s gotta be something…” You assumed he didn’t have a ring. Knowing JJ, that seemed like a fair assumption, that he would admit, but he truly did. John B had given Sarah a piece of his bandana as a ring and that was fine for them, but he wanted to do this for real.

“You’re ridiculous.” He smiled as he took your hand to stop your search.

“I need my hands to find a ring.” You looked at him, trying to pull your hands from his tight grip. You were sure you could find some random thing that would fit on your finger.

“Calm down, would ya?”

“I’m just-”

“Impatient, I get it.” He teased with a smile and a nod. You opened your mouth to quip back at him as you squinted your eyes.

“Not the word I was going to use.” He smiled as he deferred the conversation back to the topic at hand.

“Baby, you’re not going to find anything worth wearin’ around and calling an engagement ring.”

“But I want something to put on my finger.” You protested his point, wanting to feel the weight of something on your left ring finger. Wanting it to feel real.

“Can you just relax for a second?” His question was spoken in a quiet, pleading tone as he finally got you to still. “I got somethin’ for ya, but you gotta chill.”

“Okay…”

“Close your eyes. I’m serious.” You rolled your eyes before closing them like he had asked. “You’re not gonna peak?” You sighed and nodded, holding up your pinky for a short moment to mimic a pinky swear.

“Not gonna peak.” You heard him move around for a second and his hands left your body where they had been holding onto you.

“Alright, open ‘em.” You opened your eyes hesitantly… there was a small wooden box and inside of it was a simple, silver band with a dainty marquis-cut daimon on the top of it. Fuck… he actually had a ring.

“That’s…” Your eyes watered as you looked at it.

“Yep.” JJ nodded as he gently slipped it onto your finger. You held your hand up closer to your face, just to study the thing. It was perfect. It was simple, and it was you. You wouldn’t change a thing about it. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face when he watched you look at it with tears in your eyes, wiping a stray one with his thumb before putting his hands back in his lap.

“JJ… you- I-”

“You like it?” Your eyes wandered up to his at the sound of his question. Did you like it? It was the most perfect thing you had ever seen.

“That’s a whole ring…” He laughed and nodded, pulling you into his lap so you were facing sideways. His arm went around your waist and his other hand grabbed yours to trace the ring that now adorned your finger.

“Sure is… you like it?” He repeated the question, a small flicker of insecurity flaring up in him until you nodded.

“I- holy shit.” He rested his head against the side of yours as he pulled you closer to him.

“That a good ‘holy shit’ or a bad ‘holy shit’?”

“A really good ‘holy shit’.” He smiled at the fact that you still hadn’t answered his question. He could read the context clues though, and he was pretty sure you liked it.

“How do you even have a ring?” You looked at him, scooting back just a touch so you could do so.

“You thought I would give you some random trash I found lying around?”

“No, but-”

“I’ll have you know, I can be romantic when I want to.” He spoke softly as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“No, I know… I know you can, just… how do you even have it.” Being broke teenagers wasn’t exactly the best ordeal to be able to buy a ring, let alone a legit one like that. Sure, there was the surf shop, but that covered living expenses and the ‘necessities that can’t be sacrificed’ as Pope had so dramatically called them.

“I’ve had it for a minute. Been keepin’ it for a good time.” You searched his eyes as he spoke. He’s had it? He’s just been holding onto it and waiting? You didn’t even know how to wrap your brain around that, especially when JJ tended to ‘do’ before thinking.

“But I still… how do you have a ring though? It’s like a real ring, Jayj.” JJ knew very well what it was, he had bought it himself.

“Told ya, I bought it a while ago. Just been waiting for the right time.”

“Bought?” He chuckled as you repeated the word. The poor girl was so confused and so impatient to get to the answer.

“What? You think I stole it or something?” To be fair, it was a valid thing to think. It wasn’t like he hadn’t stolen a whole host of things before. He was actually quite good at it.

“I may or may not have had that thought.”

“You think so little of me…” He shook his head disapprovingly just to tease you.

“It’s kind of a valid thought.” JJ smiled at your words as he shook his head, looking back down at the ring and tracing his thumb over it.

“It’s not stolen, I can assure you that…” He saw the confusion on your face as he reiterated. “Baby, I do work. I’ve got a job n’ shit. The whole thing. Been savin’ up.” You smiled as you looked at the ring. “I can see your brain workin’ overtime. Quit thinkin’ so much.” JJ lifted your chin to get you to look at him.

“M’just-” He cut you off, pressing his thumb to your lips to get you to hush for a moment.

“You’re thinkin’ too much.” You smiled against his finger before he moved it from your lips. A few moments of silence passed; a comfortable silence as you both just took it in.

“Jayj?”

“Hm?”

“We’re like… engaged.” You were actually engaged. A ring on your finger and everything.

“Yeah, we are…” He just stared down at that damn ring sitting on your finger. “Kinda doesn’t feel real, huh?” You responded with a slow shake of your head, your eyes on the ring just the same as his before he looked up at you, analyzing your features and the expression across them.

“And yet here you are, obsessing over it after havin’ it on your finger for like, two minutes.” You nodded with a small smile and an ‘mhm’ in response to his comment.

“Typical me.” JJ huffed out a small laugh as he moved his hands back down to your hips, tracing the skin that was visible where your shirt had ridden up.

“That’s my girl.” He muttered, almost to himself before he turned your chin towards him and pressed his lips to yours.

[bxeckers222]

summary: your job took you back to dallas, where you knew you would see Paige, your ex girlfriend.

word count : about 6k

warnings!! // smut, fingering (r!receiving), strap (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving)

pls don’t judge it’s my first time writing so i hope you enjoy

It’s been 3 months. 3 months since I last watched her play, since I last went to her apartment after her game like I always did. Since that stupid argument that ended everything. god i miss her. I can’t seem to shake the thought of Paige Bueckers.

It was a dumb argument, really. Something about how she felt suffocated, how she needed space. But I did everything for her. How could she feel that way?

I’m back in Dallas, something for work. I work in the media field, sports specifically. I was always here, it was nothing new. There are plenty of things to photograph. Magazines, blogs, you name it, it needs pictures. Not to mention the fact that I’m damn good at what I do. My agents told me that I would be photographing a sports game today, and god i prayed it wasn’t for the Dallas Wings.

Sure enough, my day couldn’t get any worse.

I was sitting in my hotel room, when my agent texted me.

“Hey, y/n. Today, you’ll be taking pictures at the Dallas Wings game. Have fun!”

“fuck me.” I thought. I knew it was my job, but the idea of seeing Paige after everything felt insufferable. After all, it’s my job, and I knew it had to be done.

“Thank you, boss! Will do!” shit. this was all getting too real now. I glanced at the clock, the time reads 4 p.m. A little over 2 hours until I face her again.

6 pm. fuck.

i walked into the gym with my camera in hand, all eyes were immediately on me. Fans, coaches, basically everyone knew my past with Paige, it wasn’t a secret.

Through piercing eyes and other camera flashes, I found my way to a corner of the gym and started setting up my camera. Nerves were through the roof at this point, and I can feel my hands shaking as I fidget with the camera lens.

after i had finished setting up my station, i turned to sit my bag down and that’s when i locked eyes with her. yes, her. the same girl i was in a screaming match with 3 months ago, the same girl i dreaded seeing, the same girl i was still so stupidly in love with. the same girl i couldn’t help but miss despite everything. Paige. Madison. Bueckers.

i had never seen someone look away so fast. her eyes were there, and then they weren’t. my heart immediately dropped to my stomach, i felt like i couldn’t breathe. it’s like a wave of deja vu i couldn’t get rid of and that same feeling i had 3 months ago was back. i thought i was over it, or atleast i hoped i was, but holy shit. those blue eyes, those stupid, beautiful blue eyes, know how to get me every time.

it didn’t effect me. i promised i wouldn’t let it effect me.

fuck. did it?

no.

wait.

it did.

it effected me more than i wanted to admit. those two seconds her eyes were locked on mine, honestly, felt like home. felt like everything was like it was supposed to be. but wait, shit. it’s not my place to feel like that anymore.

the game starts and Paige was in her element. moving gracefully and efficiently, like she was born to be here. she was. this was her home, not me anymore, if i ever was. i was reading too much into two seconds of eye contact. Paige was born for basketball, not to be suffocated with a love like mine.

it’s around the start of the second quarter when i see it. shes shooting foul shots and i notice it. i notice the same spin she does with the ball before she shoot’s. i always noticed the little things. how she would always pray before she ate, and before games. how she would always stay close to me when she was drunk, and that stupid fucking spin with the ball before foul shots. everything’s coming back to me, and not at a good time.

i managed to make it through the rest of the game, taking pictures and moving around the court, trying everything i could to keep my mind off her. did it work? not so much.

the game ended, the wings lost, but are we surprised? my main goal was to get out of there before i did something i regretted.

would i regret it?

yes.

would i?

i dont want to find out.

i had just zipped my bag and began to walk towards the exit of the gym, and thats when i felt it. there was eyes on me, not just the eyes of nosey fans, or old friends, but her eyes. i knew. i just knew. i turned to look and there she was, staring at me the same way she did when we locked eyes earlier. i didn’t know what to do, so i gave a small smile. and that’s when i seen it, she mouthed “wait.”

wait?

like here?

i waited.

i knew i shouldn’t. i knew this would be heartbreak all over again, but i couldn’t bring myself to walk out. i needed to see what she wanted.

after a few minutes she walked over to me. “hey” she said. just simple, but enough to make my breath hitch. “hey, paige” i say back. “you played well” she let out a small laugh, a laugh that sounded like dancing in the kitchen at 3 am after we got wine drunk, and a laugh that felt like home.

“thanks. but we still lost, so i couldn’t have played too well” i gave her an almost sympathetic smile, i knew how much she hated losing. she hasn’t lost this much since, well, ever actually. she was known for winning. that’s who Paige is. she wins on every level.

i know i shouldn’t ask. but i have to.

“how have you been?”

fuck. this might hurt my feelings.

“i’ve been okay, actually. a lot of work, but i’m managing. you?”

okay. not as bad as i thought.

“i’ve been okay too. a lot of traveling lately, but it pays off”

she smiles. not a cocky one, not an arrogant one, but a true, genuine smile. one i haven’t seen in a while. especially not from her.

“good. that’s good. i’m glad you’re still doing what you love”

that’s when i almost said it. i almost told her right there that i still loved her. still doing what i love, but not with the person i love. and that shit hurts.

“mhm, you too. i’m happy basketball is working out well for you”

“thanks y/n. you always believed in me, seems like you still do. even when you seen my shitty team play”

i let out a small laugh, not forced, but because im getting more comfortable. “you’re not shitty, you just have some things to work on, that’s all. and i do still believe in you, you’ve always been great”

there’s that smile from her again, i can feel my cheeks heating up, and i look away quickly trying to regain my composure.

she notices, of course she fucking notices. and she knows just how to get under my skin.

“wanna go get dinner? on me?” she asks.

was she serious?

she was.

“yeah. i’d like that”

“good, we can catch up. let me go change and we can head out of here”

“sounds good” fuck. i can’t believe i’m doing this. this is the “thing i’d regret” that i was talking about. but do i regret it? we’ll see later.

she comes out about 10 minutes later, her hair is down, she’s wearing sweatpants and a uconn t-shirt that fits her perfectly. god she’s beautiful. she’s so fucking beautiful.

“ready?” she asked me

“i’m ready”

we walk out and get in her car, she offered to drive. she always drove when we were together, mainly because i didn’t like it and she knew that.

as we’re driving, the silence is awkward at first. that’s when she speaks up.

“where do you wanna go?” she asks

“up to you. you know the places around here a lot better”

“there’s this good ass tex mex place down the road a bit, sound good?”

“definitely, heard the tex mex is good around here”

“it is, trust”

we pull into the parking lot of this restaurant, it’s nice, but not “date” nice. just two friends trying to catch up.

right. friends.

“this place is great, i think you’ll like it.” she says. “i hope so, it smells good”

“i come here all the time after bad games, pretty sure everyone knows me on a first name basis by now”

i laugh again, she always knew how to make me laugh.

“im sure they do. i’m sure they all think you’re great”

why the fuck would i say that?

she gives me that look. THE look. the look that says everything. i can see it. she still loves me.

“they’ll think you’re great too” she says back with that same beautiful smile.

we sit down and order, casual talk here and there,

nothing too major. we go back to her car after we eat and get in, i’m expecting to just go back to my car and leave, to not speak to her again after this, but boy did life have other plans.

“so” she starts, “you haven’t seen my new apartment, wanna come over”

holy shit. before my brain even registered what she said, my lips started moving

“yeah, of course”

what the fuck. why would i say that. that seems eager. or maybe, that’s exactly what she wanted.

“good, i was hoping you would say that”

she starts driving again, there’s silence, but it’s

not awkward this time. the stars are out, and she’s playing old r&b music. that was always her favorite, it seems like it still is.

i was looking out the window, admiring the scenery when i heard it. the intro to Love by Keyshia Cole.

that was our song. in my mind, it still is.

i expected her to turn it down, or skip it. but no, she turns it up and looks at me.

as she glances over at me, she places her hand on my thigh, and rubs soothing circles on it with her thumb. oh my god.

“i know you remember the words, i know you remember how this is our song”

she was right, i did. i remember everything

she starts singing and gently pats my thigh, a silent way of telling me to sing too. we sing our

song until we eventually pull in at her apartment. her hand stayed on my thigh the whole way back, and i honestly didn’t mind. i felt like i was right back to where i was supposed to be.

she steps out of the car and opens my door for me, all of the memories rushing back. her apartment is huge, much bigger than the one back in Connecticut. much nicer too.

she leads me inside and she shuts the door behind us, she kicks off her shoes and sits her bag down, before sitting down on the edge of the counter.

“so? what do you think? much better than the last one huh?”

much better. accept in this apartment, i’m not yours, and you’re not mine.

“i like it a lot. i see you still got that championship net hanging up” i gesture to the net hanging on the wall

“of course i do. that was one of the best days of my life” she answers back.

before i can say anything else, she speaks up again.

“not better than today though. i’ve missed you”

my breath catches again as i look back at her.

“you have?” i ask quietly

“i have. more than i’d like to admit”

“i’ve missed you too Paige”

there’s a silence again, not awkward, but filled with the tension of unspoken words. words i can’t seem to find yet.

“i didn’t expect you to talk to me” i finally say

“why not?”

“just didn’t figure you would”

“i wanted to since the moment i saw you walk in, i just couldn’t until the game was over”

“im glad you did”

“me too y/n. me too”

this is getting dangerous. i can’t hold back. so much has already been said, why not say more?

i speak up again.

“why’d you invite me over Paige? i don’t mean to bring this up but you said i made you feel suffocated. why would you want to be around me?”

she just looked at me for a moment, not angrily, but something i couldn’t quite place.

“it was never you, y/n” she finally spoke up “the stress, late night practices, preparing to pack up and leave my whole life in Connecticut behind, it was all too much for me.”

she hesitates before adding

“and you were just there, letting me take it out on you. you didn’t deserve that.”

“and i’m sorry. for everything”

i wipe away a tear i didn’t even realize was falling.

“i thought it was me all along. i didn’t know” i say through a shaky voice.

“it was never you. you were perfect, and you still are.”

before i know it she’s off the counter and her lips are on mine. she tastes like the same vanilla lip balm she’s been wearing ever since i’ve known her. she backed me up to where i was leaning against the wall, and her kisses are becoming more urgent.

“you have no idea how much i’ve missed you” she mutters between kisses

“how fucking sorry i am for letting you go.”

“how i beat myself up for it every day”

“how bad i’ve missed having you like this. as mine”

i can feel that familiar heat forming between my legs. i need her, and she knows it.

“no p, don’t say sorry. i’m still yours. don’t be sorry. i’ve always been yours” i say back breathlessly, my hand moving to rest on her hip underneath her shirt.

she didn’t say anything back, instead she picks me up, to where my legs are around her waist, and carries me to her bedroom. still kissing me the whole way there.

once we make it to her bedroom, she lays me down on the bed and straddles my lap, taking her shirt off, as well as my own. i’m a mess at this point. i can feel my wetness seeping through the purple thong i had picked out because i knew it was her favorite color. was i expecting this? no.

but i was hoping, praying.

she removes my shirt in a swift motion, tossing it aside somewhere in the darkness, tossing hers down there too. she begins to kiss down my neck, and down my chest, before moving her hands to the clamp of my bra, and taking it off me, tossing it aside too.

“god you’re beautiful” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

she began to mark my chest, a silent promise to let everyone know i was hers. cupping my breast’s with her hands and sucking on them.

i let out a silent moan, my hands tangling in her hair.

she moved her hand to the waist band of my shorts, tugging them off. and she wasted no time.

she began kissing down my stomach, stopping just before my the lace of my panties.

“wet for me already mama?”

god she knows exactly what to say. i just nod my head.

“cmon baby i wanna hear you say it”

i nod again “mhm, yeah p, just for you”

she moves lower and begins to kiss my inner thighs, her movements slow and teasing. my fingers still tangled in her hair, letting out another low moan.

she slips my panties down my legs, and tossing them aside with the rest of our discarded clothes.

“don’t think i didn’t notice you were wearing my favorite color. you wanted this huh?”

“of course i did. but was i expecting it? definitely not”

“should’ve known i couldn’t stay away for much longer”

she lets out a breathless laugh and wastes no more time, she licks a stripe up my folds and closes her lips down around my clit.

my back arches, tugging on her hair slightly

“fuck paige”

“that’s it baby let me hear you”

i moan louder this time, bucking my hips into her.

“ ‘tastes so fuckin good ma “

“missed you so much”

i can feel myself getting wetter by the second.

the moans continue coming as she eats me out. she slips her middle and ring finger into my mouth, never slowing her movements.

“get em’ wet for me baby. show me you want it”

fuck i wanted it bad.

she works her tongue faster, eating me out like she’s starving. i close my lips around her fingers, coating them with my saliva.

she pulls her fingers out of my mouth with a pop, and pushes them into me, curling them to hit my g-spot.

i’m convinced the neighbors could hear me moaning her name.

“yeah paige, just like that. don’t stop. holy fuck, don’t stop”

she hums against my pussy, sending vibrations straight through my core. my back arches again, her fingers and tongue working at fast pace.

“you’re clenching baby, i know you’re close. cum for me, let me taste you”

she moves her fingers faster, thumb circling my clit, fingers curling, and her name in my mouth like a prayer.

“p-paige.. gonna-”

“i know baby, i know. go ahead”

that’s all it takes, the feeling i know all too well returns to my stomach. with one final moan, and one last thrust of her fingers, i cum for her.

she works me through it, slowing down but not stopping. she pulls her fingers out and begins to kiss up my stomach again, before reaching my lips, letting me taste myself.

she says against my lips.

“did so good for me mama. got one more in you?”

i nod my head

“ nuh uh pretty girl, gotta hear you say it “

“p-please p, i want more” “i need it”

that’s all she needed.

next thing i know i was on my knees, face in the pillows, ass in the air.

i hear the click of the harness, the strap. the purple strap we bought together.

she climbs behind me, wetting the strap with her spit. she positions herself and makes sure i’m comfortable, before placing the tip at my entrance

“you sure you want this? wanna be fucked good?”

holy shit i’m dripping at this point.

“please baby. i want it so bad. i want you so bad”

she pushes the strap all the way in, starting out steady before picking up pace.

i moan loudly this time. “baby, f-feels so good”

this clearly boosts her ego, as she slaps my ass, hard.

“love taking it from me don’t you? stretching you out like this. so tight for me”

pain and pleasure shooting through my body, making my eyes roll back as she continues to fuck me.

“god Paige, don’t stop.”

she picks up her movements, slamming into me harder than before, her fingers moving around to circle my clit

overstimulation has set in, but god it feels good. she feels good.

the moans are getting louder. they won’t stop.

“there we go baby. want the whole building to know who’s got you fucked up like this”

“let them know.” she adds.

i’m sure they knew. they had to have. her name falling out of my lips loudly, i had no control over the sounds i was making.

“paige baby, gonna cum again. feels s’good”

“you got it mama, go ahead. cum on my cock, let me feel you”

that was i all i needed.

my second orgasm came crashing over me like a wave, body going limp as i moaned into the pillow, she helped me ride out my orgasm then pulled out, while removing her hand from my clit. she takes the strap off and throws it in the floor, laying down beside me.

she pulls the blanket over us and speaks softly

“you alright baby?”

“trust me, i’ve never been better” i retort back

there’s a silence before she speaks up again

“i want you to know that i don’t want this to be just a one night thing, i miss you. i’m serious about trying to make this work again. i’ll do anything.”

“me too. i love you paige, i never stopped”

“i love you too y/n. so much”

i pull her in for a soft kiss, and lay my head on her chest. and for the record, i don’t regret anything.

[timetomakeanewwish]

@merrrrrrrrrrru

So I’ve been obsessed with your Apollomes lately and today I got inspired and wrote a little tiny fic for you, it’s mostly focused on Apollo because he’s my favorite and I love to make him bleed. Hope you like it 💜☀️

Apollo doesn’t want the fact that Python spawns back and fights him for control of the Oracle of Delphi every one hundred years or so, to be widely known, so he keeps it a secret from people who he doesn’t trust because they could use it against him, and he keeps it a secret from people he does trust because he doesn’t want them to get in trouble for not reporting it to his father.

It’s not an easy task given that every single aspect of him is geared against deception, every time he tries to lie his essence turns against itself for doing something contrary to his nature, everyone knows that he is a very bad liar but not even Hermes knows the reason why (it would hurt Hermes to know that he’s in pain) so he doesn’t lie, he just omits the truth or changes the conversation when it seems that is going in a direction he doesn’t want it to, he’s the god of music, he’s really good at directing his audience conversation partners attention to where he wants it to go.

Apollo is also the god of prophecy so he always knew that one day his deception would have to come to an end, it’s just that he never imagined that it would be revealed like this.

Hermes coming for a surprise visit at Mt. Parnassus where the Oracle of Delphi was located, forgetting that it was one of the days that Apollo supposedly sequestered himself in his domain of prophecy, forgetting that no one was supposed to be there while Apollo ascertained the future of Olympus to later tell the Olympian Council about any dangers that may come, simply forgetting that for once he could not go to wherever Apollo was, that rare though it was he did not always have access to Apollo, forgetting because he was a little more exhausted than he was used to being and he wanted to go home, to his safe place be coddled a little by Apollo.

Hermes entering the deep and labyrinthine caves that led to the heart of the domain of prophecy.

Hermes being too exhausted to realize that something is deeply wrong.

Hermes seeing a trail of liquid light that leads deeper and deeper into the caves and wondering if Apollo is experimenting with paints again.

Hermes entering the clearing where Apollo was and having to give his sight a minute to adjust because everything was so damn bright, and after finally being able to see clearly, spotting Apollo who’s leaning against one of the caves walls and carefully keeping an eye in Python’s body that was slowly disintegrating.

Hermes being stopped in his tracks as he processes the fact that Apollo is wounded and bleeding in front of him (which should not be possible with the way his healing usually worked).

Hermes making an horrified sound at the realization of what all the liquid light that he has been seeing all around the cave systems is.

Apollo finally noticing that he’s not alone in the heart of the Oracle of Delphi and finally spotting Hermes.

Apollo trying to rush to Hermes side because he’s in distress and Hermes should never look like that and almost collapsing because Python’s venom in his system is making his healing take longer than it should.

Hermes catching him before he falls to the ground.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Sending love and hugs your way! 🫂💗

I’m not sure if you’re still doing the comfort/fluff blurbs. But a rainy day in with Logan, watching movies and building a pillow fort because why not 🥰🥰 (he wouldn’t admit it but I feel he’d love a pillow fort lol)

Rainy Days and Clint Eastwood

Logan Howlett X Reader

He insists on watching Clint Eastwood movies

A/N: Omg dami. I appreciate you waiting as long as you did for me to redo this after it got deleted and honestly I like this version MUCH better lol. Hope you enjoy! Also, pretend that you and Logan have a surplus of pillows and blankets.

Warnings: Fluff, thunderstorms, flirting, Clint Eastwood quotes lol

"You shoot to kill, you better hit the heart. Your own words, Ramon."

Ramon aims his gun, firing off two shots at the cowboy character. Loud bangs echo into the room, making you jump. The men around Ramon, including him, all stare in anticipation at the body on the ground, sweat covering their faces.

"Oh-" You quietly mutter under your breath. Logan glances at you- a faint smile growing on his face.

Alas, despite taken 5 shots already, the lone cowboy stands up, and continues walking closer.

"The heart, Ramon. Don't forget the heart. Aim for the heart, or you'll never stop me."

"Okay so either he's a mutant or he's wearing a vest."

"Baby they never make people mutants in these movies."

"Mm. Cuz they're bigots."

Logan chuckled. His hand squeezing you reassuringly and pulling you closer. "Enjoying the movie now huh?"

"Only, because the Clint Eastwood guy reminds me of you."

"That so? The only way to keep your attention is it?"

You giggled, responding with a mischievous maybe before shushing him to continue focusing on the movie.

Rain pattered on the window, distant thunder rumbled. The home was chilly, but snuggling next to Logan- a real human furnace- had kept you warm. His arm wrapped around you, hand scratching your arm gently up and down while you were tucked safely into his side.

Logans had reached down to the bowl of popcorn that was in his lap- only to discovered unpopped kernels and a few burnt pieces. He looks at you accusingly, who was currently snacking on the last bit of it.

"What? You're a slow eater." You shrug. "It was getting cold."

"I'll make some more." He unwraps his arm from you, grabbing the bowl to sit up. You fell onto your side onto where he was sitting, his body no longer the support to keep you sitting up. With his back to you, you took noticed of his rear in his sweatpants- reaching out to pinch a cheek.

He jumped in surprised, "Hey!" He looked over his shoulder, brows creased. Trying his best to look angry- but you could see the amusement in his eyes.

"You got a cute tush Lo."

He grumbles, continuing to walk away, "Damn right." You heard him mutter, resulting in a loud cackle from you.

You continued watching the movie- utterly fascinated by the scheme the cowboy seems to be playing in order to get as much money as possible. Rain began to hit the windows harder, drawing your attention to the gray weather outside. A flash of lightning struck, and you counted the seconds.

1

2

3

4-

The thunder rumbled through the house. Indicating the storm was pretty close. You remember when you were a kid how storms terrified you. You were told that counting after a lightning strike would show you how far away storms were. You would anxiously watch the skies through your window for every strike of lightning and counted each time- until the higher the number become and gave you a sense of relief the storm was leaving. The shorter it was, you would get nervous- and resort to building a fort to keep you safe.

Grown up, you've grown out of the fear. The storm was making you nostalgic anyway.

You sat up, beginning to gather the collection of blankets in the living room, including a few stored in an old antique seater chest. For some reason, every time you go to the store- you always end up coming back with a new blanket.

Unfolding them and displaying them out- you started plotting. You wanted your fort to be cozy- and also be able to see the tv for you and Logans rainy movie day.

You were in the process of grabbing chairs from the diniing room, stacks of books for weight, and placing a blanket over the tv when Logan came back with a fresh bowl of popcorn.

You hadn't noticed him yet, focused on your plan before he cleared his throat, startling you.

"What in the world are you doing?" Logan asks, a hint of a grin on his face.

"A fort. Blanket fort." You say, matter of factly.

"A what?"

"Don't tell me you don't know what a blanket fort is." You put your hands on your hips. He quirked a brow.

"The name gives it away."

"It's fun! You ever make one when you were a kid?"

"Uh..No...Not exactly."

"Right. You were born in like 1562 or something. Probably wasn't invented yet."

"You're a little off on the dates princess."

You smiled as he approached you, popcorn bowl in hand. He examined the mess of blankets, chairs, books, and other various items. "So what's the point?"

"it's like making a little cozy...cave I guess." You shrugged. "It's warm and quiet. We can fill it with snacks and pillows and more blankets." You leaned forward, wrapping you arms around his hips and tipping your chin up at him. "Our own little love nest."

"Hm." He hums, tipping his chin down to nuzzle over your nose. "Guess the mess would be worth it then." His voice low, his eyes meeting yours with an excited glimmer.

"Definitely."

"Alright, lets get started."

You clapped your hands excitedly, taking the popcorn from him- not before munching on a few. Directing him in your idea, he agreed and you both got started.

You got distracted by the movie and popcorn throughout- while Logan become extremely focused- careful to make sure the fort was sturdy. Once the main part was finished- you climbed in and Logan used to your muffled voice squeal and call it perfect- your head peaking out. "We need so many blankets. and pillows."

"Here." He handed you a few couch pillows, and a quilt.

"No." You climbed out. "So much more. Be right back."

You disappeared, and Logan moved on to continue putting the fort together. Making sure he could fit comfortably. You came down soon after, covered by pillows and blankets from your bed- you went to work to create your nest.

Making it as soft as possible, you covered the floor with blankets, pillows, more blankets- and a few extra pillows to lay your heads on.

Finally finished, you got Logan to climb inside to lay down. He looked around, and you tried to read his expression.

"Well?" You tilted your head. "What do you think?"

"Mm. Yeah...Not bad." He gives you a small shrug. "Kinda...cozy."

He doesn't look at you, but you could see in his eyes, and his body language they way he relaxed into the blankets. Logan, being the ever stoic man he could be- you've learned to read between the lines with him.

He absolutely loved it.

"C'mon." He urged you to curl up next to him, but you held your hand up.

"Wait- I'll be right back."

You climbed out of the fort, disappearing between the blanket doors. Coming back a few minutes later with drinks, snacks, and the remote. Once everything was settled, you curled into his side- using an extra blanket to cover the both of you. You could hear thunder booming- only much more muffled from the fort shielding you and Logan from the storm outside.

"Yeah, this is pretty nice." He mutters quietly, squeezing you closer. You hummed- turning your attention back to the movie, nearly over now during your fort ordeal- eyes growing heavy as you snuggled into Logan's side again.

"What do you want to watch next?" Logan asks, looking at you when he recieved no response. You were dead asleep within minutes.

He admired your peaceful face, grabbing the remote at your side to turn the tv off- leaving off the sound of rain and thunder that was slowly fading further and further away. He pulled you to his chest, and allowed himself to slip into a slumber with you.

[inkyquillstories]

ReQuest: The Unaired Merlin Episode (A Body Swap Tale)

Note: If you’d like to see my other stories in its raw (NSFW) form with more photos/videos, you can join my discord server here: https://discord.gg/mMY9wSu4rS 

This ReQuested story is from Joseph from the discord server. Thank you for your request. 

If you have requests, prompts, photos you’d like me to use in future stories, feel free to message me and I’ll try my best to write them as soon as I can.

“The Mirror of Thalor”

It began with a whisper and an unearthed scroll.

Deep in Gaius’ chambers, Merlin pored over ancient parchment as the old physician read aloud, voice low with caution.

“The Mirror of Thalor... a relic from the Old Religion, once used by sorcerers to hide themselves in plain sight. Dangerous magic, but effective,” Gaius said.

Merlin’s eyes sparked with quiet excitement.

“Perfect,” he murmured.

An assassin hunted Arthur. Word had reached Gaius through a rider who’d seen the killer slip into the woods east of Camelot. The man was known to be silent, ruthless, and never failed a contract. The target: the Crown Prince of Camelot.

Arthur insisted on making the journey to Eldenmere as planned. Honor demanded it. Pride, more so. But Merlin had other ideas.

“Let me take your place,” Merlin said.

Arthur blinked, caught off guard. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I can’t let you die. And I have magic. You don’t,” Merlin said plainly.

For a moment, Arthur didn’t know what to say.

That night, they stood before the Mirror of Thalor. A smooth, obsidian slab hidden deep in the catacombs beneath the castle, pulsing faintly with forgotten power.

“This feels very stupid,” Arthur muttered.

“Coming from you, that means something,” Merlin replied with a smirk.

The mirror shimmered. Merlin placed a hand on it and whispered words no one had spoken in centuries.

In a blinding flash, they both gasped.

Merlin staggered back. He was taller, broader, stronger. He looked down and saw Arthur’s hands, his chest, his armor.

Arthur yelped. His voice cracked strangely high.

“What the hell! Why do I feel like a gangly deer?” Arthur cried.

They stared at each other.

Merlin’s grin widened.

“Look at me. I’m…” He flexed Arthur’s arm. “I’m strong.”

Arthur, in Merlin’s body, stared down at his own thinner frame, the oversized tunic, the slightly awkward posture.

“This is humbling,” Arthur said.

“You mean humiliating?” Merlin teased.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “I’m starting to understand why you walk like you’re always about to fall over.”

“And I’m starting to understand why you strut like a rooster with a sword,” Merlin replied.

But beneath the banter, there was something new… a flicker of curiosity. Merlin moved with Arthur’s weight now. His steps sounded heavier. He inhaled deeply and caught a faint musk clinging to the armor.

“Do I really smell like this?” he muttered, half to himself.

Arthur, sniffing his own sleeve in Merlin’s body, wrinkled his nose. 

The next morning, Merlin as Arthur, led the royal procession out of Camelot. He struggled at first, nodding too enthusiastically, gripping the reins like they might run off. Sir Leon watched him with a furrowed brow.

“You seem different, sire,” Leon said.

“Just sore,” Merlin said in Arthur’s deeper voice. “Lots of royal things. Sitting. Judging.”

He chuckled nervously. Arthur’s body felt powerful. His voice, commanding. When he barked orders, men listened. It sent a thrill through him. He adjusted in the saddle, amused by how solid his thighs felt under Arthur’s chainmail. No wonder the prince liked to ride everywhere. He must feel invincible.

Back in Camelot, Arthur slumped against a haystack, rubbing his lower back. “I don’t know how you do this,” he groaned to Gaius. “Everything aches.”

Gaius handed him a poultice.

“And yet you never notice him limping,” Gaius said gently.

Arthur didn’t answer. But he watched his own servant’s hands, now his own face, moving in the mirror. He hadn’t realized Merlin’s fingers were so slender. His jaw so defined when he frowned.

“I look tired,” Arthur murmured.

“He always is,” Gaius said.

The attack came at dusk. The assassin leapt from the trees, twin blades gleaming. Merlin, still in Arthur’s body, barely managed to parry. He wasn’t as skilled with a sword, but he held his ground. He ducked and stumbled. A blade grazed his shoulder. Blood trickled.

Desperation surged. He whispered a word under his breath.

“Teleca,” Merlin said.

The assassin tripped, flung backwards by invisible force. The men around him saw nothing. Only a lucky break, they’d think.

Arthur, breathless and muddy in Merlin’s form, arrived moments later. Their eyes locked.

“You’re hurt,” Arthur said, his voice tight.

“Your shoulder’s stronger than it looks,” Merlin replied, panting.

Arthur stared at himself… at Merlin. There was something tender in his voice.

“You did well,” Arthur said softly.

Merlin, still panting, grinned through the pain. “You always underestimate me.”

Arthur tilted his head, amused. “Not anymore.”

That night, they stood once more before the Mirror of Thalor. The magic pulsed faintly, waiting.

Merlin looked at the mirror, then back at Arthur.

“So... do we do it now?” Merlin asked.

Arthur looked at his reflection. Then at Merlin’s slender form which is his own for the time being.

“What if we didn’t?” Arthur said.

Merlin blinked. “Didn’t what?”

“Didn’t change back. Not yet,” Arthur said.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

Arthur shrugged. “I want to see what it’s like. How you live. How you think. I’ve never had so little pressure.”

Merlin gave a crooked smile. “And I’ve never had so much muscle. Or attention. I could get used to this.”

Arthur chuckled. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Says the one with my hair,” Merlin replied. “You’ve been touching it constantly.”

Arthur grinned and ran a hand through the messy dark mop. “It’s soft.”

They both laughed.

Silence fell. They stood side by side, looking at themselves in the mirror, each inhabiting the other's life, body, and burdens.

“One more day,” Arthur said.

“Two,” Merlin added.

They smiled.

And the mirror remained untouched.

The End.