#and it was a bit of a thing to get them both to leave

[guppiechuu]

baby, baby, baby 𓂃🧸۶ৎ ˚ʚɞ˚ l.h.

exboyf idol!heeseung x youngmom!reader

length: 12.1k

contains: angst, hurt/comfort, abandonment issues, second chances, gaining back trust, ot7 hangouts, lots of teasing (of reader and heeseung), flirting, slow burn, co-parenting, mild explicit language, therapist jungwon, happy ending

warnings: none really... mentions of young single mom and absent father

synopsis: you never planned on seeing Heeseung again, let alone with another man's child on your hip. but when a run-in at the grocery store turns into an evening at your messy, toy-strewn apartment, you're forced to face everything you left unsaid. you're not the same girl he left behind all those years ago, and he's not the same guy that did the leaving. so where does that leave you now?

the question: how much are you willing to bet on second chances? the answer: everything.

an: finally posting this monster oh my god. this was meant to be a <1k word oneshot, but turned into a full-on fic. excuse me and my indulgences, i just have daddy issues and am in love with lee heeseung. 

an 06.02: i edited this a ton and added like 1000 words cuz i needed more hehe so enjoy!

——

You cursed under your breath as your shopping bags began to slip through your fingers. From your hip, Hana fussed unhappily, tiny hands clawing at your face as you struggled to adjust your grip on her.

“S’cuse me,” A woman said, giving you an annoyed glance as she stepped around you. The others behind you made sounds of frustration as you struggled to wrangle your babbling child and groceries out of the store’s entrance.

“Would you mind getting out of the way?” A man asked impatiently as one of your bags slipped.

“I’m sorry,” You said, face burning with embarrassment.

Hana began to cry, her tiny body impossibly strong as she twisted in your arms, trying to escape your grasp.

“Jesus Christ,” He muttered, pushing past you.

You bit your lip, hair falling in your face to hide the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Everything was so hard. Ever since your ex had moved out, you’d had no one to help you.

No one to stay up with Hana when she was fussy, no one to entertain her so you could sneak a quick shower in, no one to get groceries while you washed, and fed, and tended to her.

Your parents were a state away, your friends busy with work or travel—none with kids of their own. No one who understood what you were going through. Standing in the doorway of the grocery store, you felt, for the first time since Hana's father left, the true gravity of how alone you both were.

Another exasperated sigh came from behind you as Hana began to cry in earnest, her shrill voice piercing the air of the store.

“Should’ve left her at home with dad,” An older woman said, tsking as she stepped around you. “New moms these days, thinking they can do it all on their own. That kind of attitude kills marriages, you know."

You opened your mouth to defend yourself—to tell her that you couldn't kill a marriage that didn't exist, to even just curse back at her—when the paper bag you’d managed to hold onto split open, the contents spilling out onto the floor.

“For fuck’s sake,” A man said, shoving past you. His shoulder caught yours, knocking you off balance.

Hana’s weight threw you off-kilter, and you stumbled to the ground, holding her tiny wriggling body to your chest.

You wanted to cry.

Beside you, someone stooped to the ground, hastily grabbing the groceries that had fallen out of your bag. You looked up, the apology already forming on your mouth. As your eyes landed on them, the words died in your mouth. 

Heeseung.

Your heart skipped. 

He didn’t say anything as he gathered the rest of your things, giving you a hand up. His eyes were glued to the squirming toddler in your arms. 

With your groceries collected, you were able to step to the side, Heeseung’s hand still on your arm. The customers who’d gathered behind you filed past, one man glaring at you as he did. 

“Finally,” He muttered. 

Heeseung’s head snapped in his direction. “Fuck off,” He shot back. Then, looking from Hana to you, he chuckled nervously. “Sorry.”

You were speechless.

How long had it been since you’d seen him? Three years? Three years since he boarded the jet that had carried him out of your life forever. 

You remembered it like it was yesterday—ENHYPEN was going on tour, he wasn't sure when he'd be back, or when he'd have time for you again. The group had just started to take off. This was the big break, he’d said. The one that would start the rest of his life.

Going with him was out of the question. Long distance was brutal. Fans were possessive of their favorite members, and a girlfriend was a risk that management couldn't afford. It took all but a few hours for him to be cut from your life. Gone. Erased. Entirely. 

And now, here he was. Lee Heeseung, the great heartbreak of your life, standing in the middle of your friendly neighborhood grocery store, eyes darting back and forth between you and the one-year-old clinging to your hip. 

Hana made a noise, reaching a hand out at him curiously. He glanced at her, his expression softening. He smiled as he leaned forward, cooing gently while she fiddled with the earring that dangled from his ear.

Your chest tightened.

“Here,” He said, taking the bags from your hands. “Where did you park?”

——

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Heeseung said quietly as he put the last of your things into your car.

He looked just as you remembered him—tall, handsome, soft-faced, and even softer-voiced. He carried a bag of his own, full of items that sent you back to your school days with him—glossy packages of instant ramen, cling-wrapped kimbap, and those energy drinks he always liked.

You tore your eyes from them, trying to shake the memories of late nights in his dorm from your mind.

“No,” You said, meeting his eyes. God, his eyes. Just as deep and intense as you remembered them. “I should be thanking you. Back there,” You gestured awkwardly, “I was… It’s been a long day.”

His eyes darted to Hana again. You could practically see the question forming on his lips, but he was still the Heeseung you knew, far too polite to outright ask.

“Hana,” You said, smiling at the pink-faced toddler in your backseat. "She's one," You added quickly, watching for his reaction.

He nodded, his expression conflicted, like he was working through his thoughts. “I didn’t know…” He said slowly, looking back at you.

“I know. I… didn’t want you to,” You admitted. “You had a lot going on."

His face dropped. “Y/n, I want you to know, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” You said simply, looking down. “You had a life to live. Dreams to chase.” You smiled at him, genuine, although something deep in your heart had begun to ache, starting the moment you’d locked eyes with him. “I was always proud of you for going."

“I shouldn’t have left like that. I know you wanted me to go, and I’m glad I did, but I…” His fingers toyed with the strings of his bag nervously. “…I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”

You shook your head, pushing the memories away. “Don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge.”

From the car, Hana began to cry again. It was well past her dinnertime, which meant she’d be inconsolable until you got her home and into her high chair, which was… still broken.

You bit back a curse, remembering that you’d needed to run to the store to replace it today. A week of trying to feed her without it had proven nearly impossible. Especially now that you were alone.

You turned back to Heeseung, trying not to feel disappointed that reality was sweeping you two apart again. What was that phrase? Right person, wrong time? Well, this was two for two.

“Anyways," You said. "Thank you. Seriously. I was losing it in there.”

“You headed home now?” He asked, looking between you, as if trying to keep the conversation going. Hanna was bawling, fists clenched angrily.

You nodded, pulling a snack pack from your bag and tearing it open, hoping it’d be enough to satiate her until you got home. If you could get her fed, maybe you’d have time to take care of all the other things that were piled on your to-do list.

There were dishes waiting for you, and sticky counters, and laundry. So much laundry. The light in your room had gone out and needed replacing, but you barely had enough time to sleep there, let alone perform a maintenance job on it.

You sighed out a tired laugh, rubbing your face with your hand. “Um, yeah. She needs to be fed and put to sleep, and there’s some housework stuff. You know, never a boring day,” You joked half-heartedly.

Heeseung hummed. Then, hesitantly, asked, "Where’s her dad?”

The question knocked the wind out of you.

He gazed at you curiously, a hint of concern in his eyes. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably. This was the one thing you didn’t want coming up.

The baby? Sure. Your embarrassing moment in the store? Fine. Even the state of your hair and clothes, covered in stains and baby powder and spit-up, whatever.

But the fact that you were alone, that the person you’d chosen to father your child was nowhere to be found, that stung in the back of your throat. Nothing had changed. You were still the one being left behind. 

Heeseung read the look on your face. “Oh,” He said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” You cut him off, not sure if you could take the awkwardness of this conversation any longer. “But, yeah, I should go. I have… a lot to do at home. Everything’s on her schedule these days.”

“Can I help?”

You felt your breath catch for a second time. “What?” You laughed nervously.

Heeseung nodded at your groceries and at the squawking baby in the back seat. “Can I help you? We’re on break. Been doing pretty much nothing but sitting around the house, gaming all day. I’ll come over.”

“Heeseung…” You started, images of your messy baby-proofed home springing to mind. As if he needed to see any more of the disheveled single mom life. “You don’t have to do that, really, you’ve helped enough—”

“Y/n, we've known each other for a long time. I can tell you’re up to your neck right now. I want to help,” He said earnestly. “Will you let me?”

You held your breath, searching his face for some clue as to what this meant for you two. Ten minutes ago, you had no idea he was even back home. And now... he was asking for a step back into your life.

The inside of your cheek stung as you chewed on it. Finally, you sighed. "What the hell. Fine. Here, let me write down my address for you."

There, at the corners of his eyes, you caught it. That glimpse of joy in his expression, of hope. It confused the fuck out of you, but you just waved to him, climbing into your car and wondering what this meant for you.

——

It was practically impossible to walk across your house without tripping over one of the toys that littered the ground. There were dishes all over the kitchen counters, soup stains on the wall behind Hana’s highchair where she'd thrown her spoon, dirty laundry spilling out of your closet and across the floor.

Heeseung didn't seem to care at all.

In fact, the only thing he seemed to care about was your daughter. Her small fists, the rosy color of her cheeks, the bubbling sound of her laughter. You'd known Heeseung liked kids—you'd talked about having them once—but what you didn't know was how much they loved him.

He and Hana hit it off immediately, faster than you'd ever seen her take to anyone before.

Without a high chair, you’d been struggling to find the best way to keep her stationary long enough to feed her. Heeseung, however, only propped her on his leg, one hand around her stomach, the other holding her plastic pink Hello Kitty spoon.

It was like magic.

No crying, no spitting. No throwing or hitting. You watched in wonder as she sat there, hands resting on his forearm. The perfect little angel you always bragged about back in full swing.

Her preoccupation with him gave you a chance to not only make her dinner, but get her pajamas out and set up her bath for later. It was the most you'd managed to get done in a single hour in weeks.

Having Heeseung there wasn’t just helpful, it was... overwhelming. His presence filled your senses—the smell of his cologne intermingled with Hana's baby lotion, the feeling of him moving around the kitchen behind you, his voice mixing with her giggling nonsense in the living room.

It was intoxicating. It was dangerous. Because part of you wished—had always wished—desperately and against all reason, that this was what your everyday looked like.

You tried to dissuade that wish as you bent over the kitchen sink, elbow deep in soapy water and dirty dishes. Heeseung came in from the dining room, holding Hana's little bowl and matching spoon in one hand, her bib in the other.

"All done," He said, placing them on the counter. "Finished the whole thing." He sounded proud. It made your chest tighten.

"That girl sure can eat," You said lightly, grabbing the dishes and submerging them under water.

"Mmm, just like her mom, then," He joked.

Being there with him, joking with him, it stirred something in you. Something you'd spent a long time trying to forget. Your throat closed as he came up behind you, dry hand sliding over your soapy one.

"What—" You started, but he was already pulling the bowl from your hands, nudging you out of the way.

"I got this. Go finish up with her."

You pressed your lips into a thin line, ignoring the fluttering sensation that crawled up your throat. He was helping, just like he said he would. It was meaningless.

Still, the feeling of his palm on the back of your hand had your heart stuttering.

In the solitude of the bathroom, you rested your chin on your hand, watching as Hana dunked her plastic horse under the soapy bathwater. She held it up to you, babbling through the bubbles on your face.

You sighed. "What d'you think? Should we let him stick around?"

She slammed her horse back into the water with a squeal, sending water over the edge of the tub.

“Yeah,” You muttered, half to yourself. “That’s what I thought.”

You looked over at yourself in the mirror, leaned against the edge of the bathtub, your clothes and hair damp from your daughter’s splashing. So different from the girl that Heeseung had left behind all those years ago. The one he once swore he’d come back for.

You felt childish for even remembering that. Everything was different now. He could have anything he wanted. The girls around him were exactly what you weren’t, what you’d stopped being the moment you found out you were pregnant. They might have been your age, but they weren't saddled with motherhood.

You, on the other hand, would never be able to escape it again.

All anyone seemed to talk about with you was the baby. How old she was now, if she’d started talking yet, how well-behaved she was.

Even running into Heeseung, the first thing he looked at was her. It was like watching yourself fade from existence, all trace of what once made you you vanishing into nothingness. 

You weren’t fun. You weren’t spontaneous. Not anymore. Motherhood had drained you of all that youthful vitality Heeseung had once loved so much about you. You felt bland. Boring. Nothing to call your own except for your daughter, who seemed to be the most interesting part of your life nowadays. 

Looking at Hana now, you knew there was no way that Heeseung was going to make a permanent return to your life, not when there was a child involved.

And yet.

And yet, Heeseung was still around when you were done with Hana’s bath. 

He’d finished the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. He’d put the rest of your groceries away and tossed all of Hana’s toys back in their bin. He even took the trash out, and was offering to fix the light in your room when you stopped him.

“Are you gonna make me kick you out?” You said, hands on your hips.

The corners of his mouth quirked, his brow lifting. “You really are someone’s mom, huh?”

“Heeseung.”

“Come on,” He laughed, “I’m already here, I might as well fix it. You really want me to go?”

No, of course you didn’t. Of course, you wanted him to stay and help you with your light, and fix your leaky shower head, and make your daughter laugh herself all the way to sleep.

Of course, you wanted him to find a million other things to help you with, and to let you keep imagining what life would be like if he were to be there. To really, truly be there.

What, were you supposed to say no to all that?

By the time the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Hana was dozing off in Heeseung’s arms, her cheek flat against his shoulder.

You watched from the kitchen doorway, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of them. He swayed slightly, bouncing up and down with a hand to her back.

No one held her like that. Not even her dad. He’d wanted almost nothing to do with her. The diapers, the crying, the mess. He’d decided enough was enough before she was even born. But Heeseung…

“She’s incredible,” He said, glancing back at you. His face was soft, shoulders relaxed. It looked almost like she was as comforting to him as he was to her, with her hand wrapped around the fabric of his shirt.

Your throat was tight. “She is. Takes after me, you know,” You joked, trying to ease the effect that this scene was having on you. Your face was warm.

He chuckled, pursing his lips as she stirred gently. After a moment, he said, “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”

You leaned against the doorframe. “It wasn’t something I wanted you to hear from someone else.”

“Yeah,” He said. “Still.”

Still.

He finally looked up at you, and you saw it—how much he was holding back. How hard this was hitting him, all at once. Sure, it had been a long time, but the emotions on his face were like a second language to you. You could read them in your sleep.

“I’m not asking for anything,” You said quickly, maybe too quickly. “I’m not—bringing you here because I want something from you.”

“I know,” He said. But he kept holding Hana anyway, and when you laid her down in her room for the night, he was still in the living room, waiting for you.

“You do all this on your own?” He asked, keeping his voice low.

“Every day.”

“You’re amazing,” He whispered.

“Thanks,” You laughed.

He followed you into the kitchen. “I always knew you’d be a good mom.”

The comment sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“What?”

“Yeah, didn’t I ever tell you that?”

You stared at him. “No.”

“I’m sure I did.”

“I think I’d remember if you did. So, no.”

He flashed that smile, the one that used to make you weak in the knees. Still made you weak in the knees. “Then I was an idiot.”

You scoffed, eyeing him skeptically. “Whatever. My house is a mess, and I have literally no social life. Look at me, I’m covered in baby food, and I’m not even the one who fed the baby.”

“Yeah, well,” He shrugged, that stupid smile on his face. “You make anything look good.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re making fun of me.”

He gasped. “What? No, I’m just a very supportive friend who happens to know that you manage to make everything look sexy, even being covered in baby food.”

Friend.

“Heeseung.” You used to be the love of my life. 

“What!” He grinned. “You’re the one who keeps blushing.”

“I am not blushing.”

He shook his head as he laughed, the sound light and pure. “I missed you. God, I missed you a lot.”

You tensed.

“That first year of tour was hell,” He reminisced, leaning back against your counter. “We hardly slept, or ate, or got any moments to ourselves. It was just go, go, go. All day, every day.” He glanced at you. “But being away from you was by far the worst part.”

“Whatever,” You said quietly. There was a lump in the back of your throat.

He hovered as you finished putting the dry dishes away in your cupboard. “It was hard without you there. You know, you’re the reason I debuted in the first place. Because you believed in me.”

Did you ever believe in me? You wanted to ask. Lingering resentment was seeping from the back of your mind, coloring those happy memories a shade darker. How was it so easy for you to leave me?

“It was hard looking out for everyone without you there,” He chuckled. “You always made that part easier. That’s how I know.” 

“Know what?” You said, eyes on the plates in your hands. 

“That you’d make a good mom. You were already halfway there with me.”

You froze. “Heeseung,” You said slowly, “Don’t.”

“What? I’m just saying—”

“No, you’re not. You’re flirting.”

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Is that illegal now?”

You stared at him. “We can’t do this.”

His smile faltered, just slightly. Enough that you knew he’d heard the part you didn’t say aloud: Not again. I can’t do this again.

“I’m not trying to mess anything up,” He said quietly.

“But you do, Heeseung. You walk in, and you smile, and she adores you, and then what? You go back to your life, and we’re left here pretending this never happened? I’ve been there, done that, okay? And I can’t— I won’t let it happen again.”

He opened his mouth, but no answer came.

“Look, I get it. You were gone for a long time. Being back home carries a lot of weight, I’m sure. But you can’t…” You looked at him, chest aching. “You can’t just come in here and make me feel like nothing’s changed when it has. I mean, look around. I have a kid now. I can’t— I’m not like you. Not anymore.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, a look of hurt flashing behind his eyes.  

You ran your hand over your hair anxiously. It was late, you were exhausted, and you were letting your emotions get the better of you. You knew you should stop talking and just send him home, but you couldn’t.

“You have your whole life ahead of you,” You said. “You get to pack up and travel the world, do whatever you want, meet whoever you want. I don’t. That ended for me the second I had her.”

“Y/n,” He frowned, but you cut him off.

“I thought…” Tears pricked behind your eyes. “I thought that maybe things would just be a little different. That I’d still get to—” You caught your breath, the weight of everything you’d gone through rising suddenly, knocking the breath from your lungs. “And then it ended all over again. When her dad left.” 

You saw the way his face hardened, a look you hadn’t seen in years. Hurt. Angry. Protective. 

“I’m alone, Heeseung,” You whispered. 

“That’s not true—”

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s not! You have me—”

“Then where were you!?”

His face fell. You didn’t want him to see you cry, but you were dangerously close. Being near him, seeing that god forsaken look in his eyes, like he was angry with himself, it killed you. 

“I didn’t know,” He said quietly. “If I had—”

“You would have, what? Cancelled your tour? Come racing home to help your ex with some other guy’s baby? That’s not true and you know it.” 

“I would have found a way to be there for you.”

“Really? You could have called. Once, even. You could have checked up on me, but you didn’t. You packed your things and you left. That’s all anyone ever does, is pack up and disappear.”

“Don’t, y/n. It’s not the same thing. I never would have left you with our kid like that,” He said seriously.

Our kid. The words seemed to burrow into your chest, curling up around the part of you that was still so angry, so hurt, so betrayed. 

“No,” You said bitterly, wiping your eyes roughly with your sleeve. “You just left me. Not as big a deal, right?”

He flinched, those big, sad eyes of his wincing painfully.

You knew it wasn’t fair. You knew you were being cruel now, prodding a wound that was clearly still open in both of you, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted, just once, for someone to tell you that you were worth fighting for, that the way he and Hana’s dad had both abandoned you wasn’t your fault. That you weren’t defective. Disposable. 

Heeseung held your gaze, brows creased. “I deserved that,” He finally said.

You looked away, jaw clenched. 

He took a step toward you, slow, like he was scared you might push him away. “You’re right, I did. I left. I let you believe that I didn’t care about you. I thought… walking away would make things easier. That it would hurt less, instead of dragging it out, making you wait for me. You had a life of your own waiting. I couldn’t do that to you,” He reasoned. “And look at you! You brought a kid into the world, y/n. You never needed me, or anyone else. You’re strong.” “I’m not,” You argued. 

“You are,” He said firmly. 

You shook your head, arms tightening around yourself. “I’m not strong. I’m surviving. That’s not the same thing.”

Heeseung didn’t argue this time. He gave you an apologetic look, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t mean to come here and upset you. I wanted… I really did want to help, y/n.”

“You have,” You said, not meeting his eyes. It was hard to speak without your voice shaking, and you didn’t want him to see you cry. 

His voice softened, gaze dropping to the floor. “I know I can’t change the past. And you don’t trust me. But we’re back home until the next album’s finished.”

Your chest tightened. So, he was sticking around. Great, you thought to yourself. Just what you needed on top of everything else you had going on. 

“If you need me, you can call me. You know that, right?”

You said nothing. Heeseung got his things and left, mumbling apologies as the door closed behind him. You had to catch your breath against the doorframe as the sound of his car faded down the street. 

Here you were again. Watching the door swing closed behind him, wishing you were brave enough to ask him to stay. 

That night, you went into Hana's room and curled up in the chair beside her crib. Looking at her—the soft fat of her cheeks, the way her tiny chest rose and fell so steadily without a care in the world—was the only thing that kept you from breaking down completely. 

You watched her silently, the occasional rogue tear slipping down your cheek. Three years worth of emotions had bubbled up to the surface, crashing over you like a tidal wave of memories and regret. The house was empty again. You were alone. 

For the first time, you confronted the hard truth you’d been trying to ignore: no one was coming to save you. You were on your own.

——

Heeseung must have looked upset, because the moment he got back to the dorm, the others were on him.

“Where were you?” Sunoo asked, looking up from his game.

Beside him, Jay, Sunghoon, and Jungwon were sprawled on the couch. Jake watched from the floor, stretched out on his stomach. Niki was curled up in the chair, half asleep. 

“Nowhere,” Heeseung mumbled, kicking his shoes off. 

“You look like shit,” Jay said bluntly.

“Thanks.” 

“I thought you were just stopping at the store?” Jake turned to look at Heeseung over his shoulder. “Geez, you really do look terrible.”

Jungwon looked at him curiously. “Are you okay?”

Heeseung’s mind was still spinning. He could barely form a coherent thought, let alone answer their questions. He brushed them off, wanting nothing more than to disappear into his room in solitude. 

But these were his group members, his best friends, and they always knew when something was wrong. They switched the game off and trailed after Heeseung as he made his way to his room, shoving his door open. It bounced against the wall loudly. 

Heeseung winced, dropping onto his mattress. His body felt worn, his mind foggy, like he’d spent all day on stage instead of laughing with you in your kitchen. He still couldn’t believe he’d spent the day with you. In fact, he could hardly believe anything about what had happened. 

There were no words to describe what Heeseung had felt, seeing you again for the first time. It was like every one of his senses dialed in on your figure crouched in the door, your hair falling over your shoulders. His throat had closed, his fingers curling into his palms by his side. 

His heart had nearly leapt out of his chest completely. 

And then, there was Hana. 

He hoped he didn’t look as surprised as he’d felt, but he knew the chances were small. You’d always been able to read his emotions. You’d been the one to ask him out, after all—sick and tired of how painfully obvious his feelings for you were. No one else had ever came close to understanding him the way you did, not even the guys.

You probably saw right through his easy attitude, straight to the heart of his reaction: seeing you with Hana had scared him shitless. 

He pressed a hand to his face. I’m never offering to go to the store for the others ever again, he thought hopelessly.

Jungwon appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. The others poked their heads out from behind, waiting for him to say something first. Jungwon might have been younger, but he was their leader, through and through. 

He always knew what each member needed in moments like these. For Heeseung, it was space. And time. Jungwon just stood there for a while, not saying anything. 

Heeseung’s voice was rough when he finally spoke. “I saw y/n.”

More silence. 

He hadn't talked about you in a long time, mostly because it brought his mood down every time someone so much as mentioned your name. Years later and he was still upset about the way you'd left things. 

And now he knew that you were, too.

“I ran into her at the store,” He continued. “Her bag had ripped so her stuff was everywhere, and people were getting pissed.” Fucking assholes. “I couldn’t just— turn the other way, pretend I didn’t know her.”

No one argued with that, but Heeseung still felt the back of his neck go red. 

"So I went up to her. I helped her grab her things. She..." He trailed off. "We went back to her's after." 

Jake shoulders dropped, looking relieved. "So, what's with the long face? Haven't you been dreaming about this since, like, we left?" 

“Yeah, I’m surprised you’re back here,” Jay smirked. “She didn’t want you to stay the night?”

"She has a kid." 

That shut them up. 

She has a kid. The words sounded foreign in Heeseung's ears. He still hadn't fully wrapped his head around it. The girl he’d been hung up on for years was a mom.

Jungwon’s eyebrows shot up. “Like.. has has?”

Heeseung nodded. “A little girl. Her name’s Hana.” 

“So that means she’s…”

“Single,” Heeseung said incredulously, falling backwards onto his mattress. The entire situation was mind boggling. “Hana’s dad isn’t around. Not sure why. All I know is that it was sudden. He just packed up one day and… left.” 

Just like I did, He thought bitterly. God, he’d made a number of mistakes throughout his life, but that had to be the worst of them all. 

“Damn,” Jungwon said under his breath. “That’s a lot.”

Sunghoon shifted his weight anxiously. “How did she seem?” 

Heeseung swallowed. “Tired. She looked so tired. And sad. I could see it in her eyes, even though she was trying not to show it.”

“She didn’t ask for anything?” Jake asked.

“No. She doesn’t want anything from me. She made that pretty clear.” Heeseung dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know what to do. I thought I’d moved on, or at least that I was done holding onto her. But seeing her like that…” His voice cracked, and he looked away. “It’s like everything I’ve been trying to forget just—came back all at once.”

Jungwon finally stepped into the room, going to sit beside Heeseung. The others trailed in after him. It was crowded with all of them there, but Heeseung was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude that they were with him. That he didn’t have to spend the night alone with his thoughts.

Like you were now. He thought of you alone in that house, working through the motions of your reunion by yourself. It made his chest ache.  

“Shouldn’t have left her,” He mumbled, mostly to himself. 

“Are you going to see her again?” 

“I don’t know,” He mumbled. “We argued. I think she doesn’t want to believe I could ever be there for her. That I’m just going to leave again.” His throat tightened. “I can’t blame her for feeling that way.”

“Are you?”

“I— no, I don’t want to. But she’s afraid to trust me. And I’m scared, too! What if she’s right? She’s always right. I don’t wanna cause her more trouble…” 

Now that he was talking, he couldn’t stop. The others listened intently, nodding along, humming sounds of understanding. 

“I’m scared that the more I try to get closer to her, the further I’m going to push her away. She has enough shit going on in her life right now. I don’t want to add to that. But I can’t just let her be. Not when I know she’s too proud to ask anyone else for help.” 

“No, not y/n.” Sunoo hid a laugh behind his hand. “That girl would rather die than rely on anyone else. She’s always preferred to figure it out on her own.”

“I know. I don’t want to fuck up her life anymore than I already have.” 

“Hey, at least you’re not the asshole who knocked her up,” Jay said lightly.

Heeseung bit his lip, suddenly worried he was going insane.

Worried because the smallest part of him almost wished that he was. He would have never left you alone. And… Well, he’d always liked the idea of you with his kids. He meant what he said earlier—if anyone was going to make a good parent, it was you. 

A baby would have killed his career for sure, but… he almost preferred that to the idea of you struggling through parenthood alone. 

“So what are you going to do?” Jungwon asked. 

“I don’t know,” Heeseung sighed, sitting up. “What if I try to be there for her, and I make things worse? What if she’s right not to trust me? I don’t want to—” He ran his hands through his hair anxiously. “I can’t hurt her again. I’d rather never see her again than have that happen.” 

Jungwon pursed his lips, thinking. “It is true that you’ll have to leave again when the next album is finished.”

The others nodded, murmuring in agreement.

“Tour life isn’t exactly fit for a kid.”

“There’s always the chance that people find out about you two.”

“You’d have to be apart for a long time.”

Jungwon nodded. “But… do you love her?”

Heeseung’s face went red. “What?”

“Quit acting embarrassed. We had to listen to you go on about her for a year straight after we left. I think you can tell us if you’re still in love with her.”

He pursed his lips and frowned, mulling the question over. Was he still in love with you? 

Who was he kidding, of course he was. How else could he explain the way the world seemed to blur when he caught sight of you in the store? How his body was moving to help you before he even had time to think about it?

Heeseung was in love with you. As in love with you as he was the day he left. Why else had he spent all day at your house doing chores, enjoying every minute? The way you moved around each other, the sound of Hana’s voice responding to yours, the way he could see pieces of you in her. God, he’d only known that girl for a day but he was already feeling protective of her.

Of both of you. 

He sighed. “Yes… I do. I am.” He pressed his thumb into his palm, where he’d brushed the back of your hand. “I really missed her,” He mumbled. “But I’m scared to mess everything up. Again.”

 “You’re not gonna do that,” Sunghoon said, leaning against the wall. 

“Yeah, come on. I’ve never seen you make the same mistake twice.”

“Thanks,” He muttered, still unable to shake his fears. 

“If you really love her, you’ll find a way to make it work,” Jungwon assured him. 

Hearing that brought a small amount of relief to Heeseung’s anxiety, but he still wasn’t convinced. “What if she doesn’t want to see me?” He asked quietly.

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Honestly, you’re so dramatic. If she doesn’t want to see you, she’ll tell you. Did she?”

“No… not explicitly…” 

“Then you still have a chance. Don’t screw it up.” 

Heeseung chuckled lightly, feeling slightly better. “I’ll try not to.”

“Screw your feelings, we miss having her around,” Sunghoon joked. 

“Yeah, I wanna meet this kid,” Jake said eagerly. “If she’s anything like y/n, she’ll fit in just fine with us.”

Niki hummed in agreement. “Yeah, we never agreed to your break up.” 

“Mm. Very inconsiderate of you,” Jay said. 

Heeseung laughed, for real this time. He felt his chest untighten for the first time in hours, his shoulders dropping, his jaw unclenching. God, he was grateful for his friends. They were right. 

Heeseung had been losing his mind over what he should do when there was really only one option in front of him: to prove to you how serious he was about you. Whether or not you were able to fix things between you two, that didn’t matter to him. 

All he cared about was showing you that you could trust him. That you weren’t alone in this, no matter how long you’d spent believing otherwise. 

Seeing you today confirmed what he’d known the second he’d left all those years ago: you were the only one for him. And meeting Hana—feeling the warmth of her against his chest, smelling your perfume on her skin, noticing the way her lips curved up in the same shape that yours did—it was the final nail in the coffin. 

His life would never be complete without you in it, one-year-old and all.

——

Heeseung’s reappearance in your life didn’t happen immediately.

In fact, it was a few weeks before you heard from him again. Lost in the throes of trying to find a babysitter so that you could pick up an extra shift at work, his text was left buried in calls from your landlord and notices about upcoming bills.

Heeseung Are u busy this weekend? I have some overexcited friends who are anxious to meet that baby of yours.

It sat unanswered for a day. 

You didn’t know it, but every single one of the 24 hours that passed before you got back to Heeseung was like knives in his skin. The day dragged by, long and torturous, as he sank deeper and deeper into the belief that maybe he’d been wrong, and you didn’t want to hear from him after all. 

He was relieved when his phone buzzed on his desk, your name popping up on his screen for the first time in three years. 

Y/N Oh god.

Y/N Are u really gonna bring them over here??

Heeseung Not if you’re not okay with it.

Y/N It’s not that I’m not okay with it. it’s just… weird

Y/N Never thought I’d be introducing your group members to my kid.

Heeseung Definitely weird.

Heeseung Always figured they’d meet ours first but this works too.

Y/N Heeseung.

Heeseung What? Just saying.

Y/N 🙄

Heeseung I’ll be good. I promise. Saturday?

He chewed the edge of his nail as he watched his screen, heart racing at the base of his throat. Your text came in and he couldn’t help the smile that took over his face. 

Y/N Yeah right.

Y/N See you then.

You had precious little time to clean up before they got there. When you heard Heeseung’s knock at the door, you were part-way through clearing Hana’s things out of the living room. 

Sweaty, hair a mess, sticky toddler on your hip, you pulled the door open to a group of faces you hadn’t seen in years. 

The guys stood there for a second, taking you in. Sunoo was the first to break the silence, his face widening into a grin. “Wow,” he said, “Motherhood really does suit you.”

You rolled your eyes, your face warming as you shifted Hana on your hip. “Shut up, Sunoo.” 

Hana peeked out at them, fists clutching your shirt nervously. 

Jake’s eyes went wide as he crouched down, level with her. “Hi,” He said, his voice going soft. “You’re so cute, oh my god. Mind if we come in?”

Hana smiled shyly, burying her face in your shoulder.

“Sorry about the mess,” You said, stepping aside to let them in. “Can never seem to keep anything clean these days.”

“You should’ve called us,” Sunoo pouted. “We could’ve helped.”

“No way. You guys are busy enough as it is.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jay said. “You should see how these guys live”

“Oh, shut up, Jay. Your room is disgusting. I don’t know how you live in that filth.”

“My room is disgusting!? Should we talk about how you keep the living room—”

“Get out of the way!” Jungwon complained, pushing past them. 

Heeseung was the last to come in, messy-haired and bare-faced. He looked nervous, but his shoulders droppe when he caught sight of you.

He paused in the doorway. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah,” You said. “It’s fine. Just… don’t expect her to start doing tricks or anything.”

“Are you sure?” Sunghoon asked, peeking at Hana. “I heard kids can dance these days.”

“Please,” You scoffed. “She can barely get a spoon from her plate to her mouth.”

They laughed as they filed in, avoiding the toys that were scattered around the floor. For a moment, no one wanted to sit down. They crowded around you, pulling funny faces to make Hana laugh, reaching out to pinch her face. 

Heeseung hovered beside you, eyes flicking to yours. It felt good to have him close. You’d never had this many people in your house before, not since having Hana. His presence was steadying. Reassuring. 

You found yourself wanting to stick close to him as well. 

They followed you into the living room, pointing at the photos and finger-painting scribbles hung up on the walls. You noticed Heeseung from the corner of your eye, bending down to grab things from the floor as he went, tossing them into Hana’s toy chest the same way he had when he first came over. 

It was instinctual, that desire to help you, to take some of the load off your shoulders. Always had been. 

“How are you, y/n?” Jungwon asked, “Besides the cute baby and messy living room.”

“Um,” You sighed, “I’m… managing. Getting used to doing all this on my own. It’s hard but rewarding, too.” You smiled at Hana, pressing your lips to her head and breathing in the soft, sweet baby smell of her hair. “She makes it worth it.”

Your voice was easy, your face relaxed, but Heeseung could see the fatigue in your body. Your shoulders drooped, Hana’s weight sagging in your arms. 

Getting used to doing all this on my own. You’d never know how sad it made him to hear you say that. 

“I can’t imagine how tired you are,” Jake said, watching as Hana curled a hand around his finger.

You laughed lightly. “I definitely don’t sleep the way I used to. Or, at all, really,” You admitted. “You don’t even want to know how long it’s been since I’ve showered.” 

“I can see that,” Sunoo teased, gesturing at the myriad of stains across your shirt. “I like the baby food. It’s a good look on you.”

“Glad to know it’s working on you, jerk,” You said playfully. God, you missed having these guys around.  

“Do you want me to take her?” Heeseung asked. The question caught you by surprise. He seemed so easy about it, like it was something he did every day. “You can take a quick shower… if you want.”

“What? No way. You guys are friends, not my babysitters.”

“Not yet,” Niki said, leaning down to coo at Hana’s face. 

“Seriously, we don’t mind,” Heeseung insisted.  

You bit your lip sheepishly. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely. We’re professionals.” Sunghoon said seriously. 

“I mean, we are terrible at music,” Jake added, “But picture books and stuffed animals? I think we got it.”

“Go,” Heeseung insisted softly. “We’re here. Let us help.”

You hesitated. It was such a small thing—showering, putting on a fresh t-shirt—but it felt huge. Like accepting their help would mean finally admitting just how worn out you were. 

There was also your protectiveness over Hana, too. You’d never left her with anyone but your parents before. It was why finding a babysitter had become such an ordeal—trusting anyone with your child took an incredible leap of faith.

But then you saw the look in Heeseung’s eyes. The hopeful, almost desperate need to do something for you. He held your gaze, steady, solid. 

As if in answer, Hana reached out for him, squirming away from your grasp. She’d always been good with faces, and he was wearing the same jacket he’d worn the first time he came over. She stretched towards the familiarity of his arms and you surrendered, allowing her to climb into them.

“She likes you,” Jungwon said, a big grin on his face. 

“Yeah,” Heeseung said, unable to hide the pride in his voice. “I like her, too.”

Seeing her in his arms again brought back the same feeling from before. The one that made you want to see Heeseung with your daughter all the time. 

They just looked so… at home together. Like Hana had known him since the start. You hated to admit it, but you were starting to wish that she had.

“All her toys are in there, and there’s snacks in the fridge if she gets fussy. If she gets really upset I’ve got a pacifier in her room—”

Heeseung nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking up at your rambling. “She’ll be great.”

You sighed. “Okay, but if she starts crying—”

“We’ve got it,” Jay reassured you.

Sunoo shot you a wink. “Go on, mama. We’ll look after her.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and slipped down the hall, feeling, for the first time in a long while, that you had people in your corner. It was a good feeling.

——

“She sorta looks like you, Heeseung.”

“Oh, stop teasing him. He’s not gonna let us come back with him next time.”

“You’re so full of it. They don’t look anything alike.”

“She’s got a real Shin Min-a look to her. Old school.”

“She looks like her mom,” Heeseung said, only half-listening to what his idiot friends were debating about. 

His attention was mainly on the tiny human balanced on his thighs, her hands tangling in his hair. She was a stout little thing, skin slipping under the slippery fabric of her shirt as he kept a firm grip on her. 

A Laker’s jersey. Your guys’ favorite team. 

He took a deep breath, trying to steady the emotions rising in him. Just being there—with Hana, with you—it was enough to make him crazy. He tried not to feel dizzy as Hana’s hands moved to his face.

“She missed you,” Jungwon said quietly, fidgeting with a plastic airplane in his lap. 

For a second, Heeseung thought he was talking about Hana, but no. He was talking about you.

Heeseung glanced at him. “You think so?”

“You should’ve seen the way she was looking at you when she opened the door.” 

Jay snickered at him, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Yeah, she was totally checking you out, man.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“It’s true,” Niki chimed in, tossing a stuffed rabbit at Sunghoon. “Don’t act like you didn’t notice.”

Heeseung just shook his head. “She’s just… It’s been a long time.”

Jay shook his head. “Nah, man. You’re still important to her.”

“It’s obvious,” Sunoo agreed. “If Jay noticed it, it’s real.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“Well, you’re not the most observant of people, are you?” He said, side-eyeing him.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. He hoped they were right.

——

The guys started coming around more often after that. They always insisted that they were restless at the dorm and liked having somewhere else to hang out, but you knew it was more than that. 

It became something of a tradition to have a big meal at yours at the end of the week, and as time passed, it became easier to rely on them. It felt good to have a kitchen full of noise, a table that wasn’t empty, a house that shook with laughter and music.

They’d bring bags of groceries over and cook these huge, chaotic dinners to share in your dining room. The kitchen was left a mess but they always cleaned up. 

Weeks went by and Heeseung stayed behind more and more often, tidying up the rest of the house with you, even helping to put Hana to bed. 

Despite your reservations, you liked having him there. You liked the way he’d come through your door unannounced, toting drinks for you and a snack for Hana in his bag. You liked the way he’d get up from the couch when he heard her fussing, and how the others teased him about it in front of you.

“Is that your baby now or what?” Jungwon would laugh, eyes flicking between you and Heeseung with that knowing look.

You’d turn red and Heeseung would just shake his head, smiling. 

Even in your hardest moments, he was still showing up for you. Providing you with the comfort and stability that you were trying so hard to give your daughter. You tried to remind yourself not to get too used to his support, but there was no denying it—it was easier to take care of Hana when there was someone taking care of you, too.

“I don’t know what to do,” You sighed, reaching down to pick her back up from her crib. Your phone was tucked between your cheek and your shoulder, Heeseung on the other end of the line. “I’ve tried everything. She just won’t settle.”

His voice came through rough and scratchy with sleep. It was late, and he probably should’ve been asleep hours ago, but you’d started calling each other. A lot. If he wasn’t there in person, he was on your speaker phone, talking to you and keeping Hana entertained. 

“Do you wanna try feeding her again?” He asked, yawning. 

“I’ve tried. She doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want anything.” You sighed as Hana let out another ear-piercing wail. Her face was red and blotchy from crying. It looked like another all-nighter for you. 

“Can you take her to your bed? I think she just doesn’t like being away from you.”

That was certainly true. Hana was getting clingier and clingier these days, spoiled by all her uncles constantly wanting to hold her. 

“I can’t, I’m scared that I’ll fall asleep,” You said. 

Countless horror stories about parents falling asleep with their babies in their bed had left you anxious to bring her to yours. It was moments like this that you wished her dad was there—that you had someone to take turns staying up with.

“I’ll let you go,” You sighed. “I’m gonna try walking her around the house or something, maybe another bath. Sleep well, okay?”

He hummed as you ended the call, the vibration tickling your ear through the phone. Almost like he was there with you. At least one of you would be able to get some sleep, you thought enviously as you pulled Hana to your chest. 

Only, ten minutes later there was a knock at your door. 

“Heeseung?” You stared at the man in your doorway. Hana scratched at your face as she wailed up at you. “Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, smiling as he stepped over the threshold. “Wanted to make sure she was okay,” He said, as if that was a reasonable explanation for showing up at your house at 2 a.m.

“She’s fine,” You said, half-stunned as you shut the door behind him. 

Hana let out a disgruntled whine at not having your attention. You raised a brow at her, shaking your head. “You’re such a little drama queen. Look, you’re not even upset anymore.” 

It was true. Hana’s cries had slowed to a sniffle as she gazed at Heeseung with wide, glossy eyes. He held a hand out for her to grab onto.

“Had to make sure mom was okay, too,” He said quietly, thumb brushing over her knuckles.

You looked up at him, your chest tightening. His hair was a mess, poking out from under the hood of his sweatshirt. A rush of emotion washed over you at the sight of him, at the dark circles under his eyes, the tired smile on his mouth. The way he was trying—really trying—to be there for you both.

“You didn’t have to,” You mumbled, averting your eyes. 

God, even in his most sleep-deprived state he was gorgeous. Eyes burning into yours in the low light. His body hummed with that quiet power that had drawn you to him in the first place—that confidence, that steadfastness. How he seemed perfectly at ease no matter where he was or what he was feeling inside. 

Standing next to him, you felt slightly less exhausted. Like simply being around him was enough to energize you. 

“I know,” He said softly, “But I wanted to.” 

He stepped forward, hands slipping under Hana’s arms with a tenderness that made your heart sting. She let out a giggle as he lifted her up, hands smacking against his chest as he settled her against him.

“She’s always happier with you,” You said quietly. It wasn’t a complaint. Hana really was calmer around Heeseung, and that brought you a sense of peace that you weren’t quite sure how to explain. 

He looked at you, his expression softening. “She’s happier when you’re okay,” He murmured. “Come on, let’s try this again.”

Despite his best efforts, Hana was still unhappy in her crib. She clung to his arm as he tried to place her down, voice going up several octaves. You winced at the volume, grateful that you didn’t share walls with your neighbors. They’d have lost their patience hours ago. 

Heeseung didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t even flinch as she shrieked, clawing at his hands in frustration. He just scooped her back up, resting her against his shoulder and muttering reassurances over her cries. 

You tried for an entire hour—walking her around the house, reading her favorite books and making sure to do all the funny voices, swaddling and unswaddling her, over and over and over. The best luck you had was in your room, like Heeseung had suggested, which both heartened and annoyed you at the same time. 

How were you supposed to deny a man with such good instincts? 

“You are so dramatic.” You shook your head as Hana hiccupped from your pillow, smiling like she’d never been crying in the first place. 

“I wonder where she gets it,” Heeseung said lightly, sitting down on the other side of her. 

You tried to stifle a yawn as Hana stretched out, both of your eyes drooping. 

Heeseung couldn’t help but smile at the both of you. He’d never met your ex—hadn’t even seen a picture—but he didn’t need to know that Hana hardly took after him.

 Her smile, her mannerisms, that was all you. She was yours, through and through. 

“Come here,” He said, pulling Hana closer to him to make space for you to lay next to her. 

“I’ll fall asleep,” You protested. 

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

Anyone else, and you would have said no. Anyone but him, and you’d have insisted they leave, resigning yourself to another brutal night of no sleep. 

But it was Heeseung. He propped himself up on one elbow, his arm curved over Hana’s head. 

You sighed in resignation as you settled in on the other side of her, your hand resting over her stomach gently. His hand came down to brush the hair away from your face. His fingers were soft against your temple, the same gentle touch that you used to love so much. 

Anyone else and you would have turned them away, but it was Heeseung, and he watched the two of you sleeping like you were the most precious things to him in the world. 

——

When you woke the next morning, the sun was peeking through your window, filtering through your blinds and washing your room in soft, white light. 

In front of you, Hana was still sound asleep, her fists clenched by her head. On the other side of her, Heeseung was there. Still on his side, shoulders curved inwards protectively. His arm was still stretched out above you both, his hand resting gently against your hair. He’d fallen asleep that way, holding you both like you were his to care for. His to protect. 

And waking up that morning, you realized that maybe you were. Maybe you wanted to be. You slipped out from under his hand, trying not to disturb either of them as you rolled the ache out of your shoulders. 

You padded into your kitchen, warm light spilling across the floor. Leaning against the counter, you finally admitted to yourself that you had a problem. 

Heeseung was doing it. He was making you believe.

You let out a breath. 

The nightly calls, the small gestures, the way Heeseung was there for you, it was working. Are you really falling for this? You thought stubbornly, trying to reason your way out of the way you felt about him. How much of it was real, anyways? And how much had you made up in your desire to have him close? Your mind screamed at you not to trust any of it. 

He was an idea. You didn’t need him. 

But you wanted him so bad. 

Your heart warred against this truth, desperate for something—anything—to convince yourself otherwise. But it wasn’t easy to do. The life he’d painted around you in just under a month was like something out of a dream. One you’d had before the baby, before the breakup, when you still felt like dreams like this had merit.

It was everything you’d ever wanted, and that made you suspicious. What reason did the universe have for giving this to you? When it had been so intent on taking things away? 

Your thoughts were interrupted as Hana came crawling into the kitchen, slapping her hands on the cool floor. Heeseung trailed in after, looking exceptionally tired with his hair sticking up in awkward places. He yawned, scooping Hana up with practiced ease and perching her against his chest. 

“Hey,” He said, bringing her over to you. “Did you sleep well?”

You took her grabbing hand in yours, kissing a good-morning into her hair. “Thanks to you. You’re so good with her,” You said, trying to keep your voice even. Your stomach was fluttering nervously. “I don’t know how you do it.” 

He shrugged, giving her a little bounce that sent her squealing with laughter. “It’s easy. She’s a charmer. Just like her mom.”

Your heart stuttered, and you looked away, fighting the stubborn burn in your chest. Heeseung saw it, though. He always saw it.

“I’m glad I came, y/n. Seriously. I slept great.”

“You slept terribly.”

“Alright, fine, I slept pretty badly, but it was worth it,” He insisted. “And I’d do it again. And again, and again, and again,” He laughed, nuzzling his face into her chest. “Can the guys come over today? Unless you want the day to yourself… I know we’ve been over a lot. I can go home if you want.”

Words could not describe how badly you wanted him to stay. “Yeah, of course. I like having you guys around.”

I like having you around, is what you should have said, but you didn’t have to say it for Heeseung to know what you meant. The smile on his face told you that he understood completely. 

It was already the beginning of the end for you when the other members came over and started teasing you both mercilessly. Weeks of hanging out at yours had made them bold—and it was clear that they wanted you to address what was going on between the two of you.

“Should we start packing your room up?” Sunoo asked, side-eyeing you both as he came in.

“You might as well just move in, bro,” Jay said, clapping his hand on Heeseung’s back.

You scoffed. “Yeah right, not until he starts paying rent.”

Jay smirked. “He’d do it.” 

“Shut up,” Heeseung mumbled, rolling his eyes.

Their banter might have embarrassed you once, but it felt natural now. The way they spilled into your living room, fighting over who got to hold Hana and which toys she wanted to play with more more—it was hard not to feel like this was how it had always been. 

You clung to whatever thin resolve you had left as you watched them all with your daughter. No matter how much you tried not to, your gaze always landed back on Heeseung. The way he lifted Hana into the air, blowing raspberries into her stomach until she was screeching with laughter. The way he handed her off to someone else and insisted on helping you get her lunch ready. 

Things between you and Heeseung became… different. 

It didn’t fluster you as much when the others teased you for being attached at the hip anymore. And you didn’t mind when he’d sit with his arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers brushing the back of your neck.

For every inch you gave, he seemed to take a mile. Eventually, it became commonplace for him to collapse on the couch right next to you, thigh brushing yours, arm stretched behind your shoulders.

The others stopped asking if Heeseung was leaving with them. They knew he’d choose to stay with you. 

“Are you just gonna stand there staring at me all night?” You asked, your back turned as you put your dinner leftovers into the fridge. You could feel his eyes on the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Maybe,” He said, “I like watching you.”

“You’re insufferable.”

He smirked, eyes glinting. “You didn’t seem to mind earlier. When I put my arm around you on the couch, you didn’t move.”

Caught. 

“That was different,” You managed, keeping your voice even. He didn’t need to know how much of a rise that simple touch had gotten out of you. 

“Was it?” His voice was low as he came to lean against the counter beside you, arms crossed. “Felt pretty natural to me.”

Weeks passed and lines got blurrier. He touched you. A lot. Practically couldn’t keep his hands off of you—brushing a strand of hair from your face, a hand on your lower back, a stroke of his thumb against your temple. 

By the time you realized it was happening, that you were really, truly falling for him again, it was too late. 

Waking up with your head on his chest, Hana curled between you—it was too late. 

His arms resting on either side of you against the counter, his chest to your back as Hana sat on top of it—it was too late. 

His hand running back through your hair in front of everyone as he tried to find the scar you’d gotten from hitting your head on his dorm door all those years ago—it was too late.

As much as you tried to manage your affinity for him—remind yourself that he had always been friendly, that this was just a passing thing for him while he was bored at home—it was during your weekly dinner as a group that your feelings became impossible to deny any longer. 

You were in the kitchen, putting the dishes away when you heard a sharp crash from the other room—the sound of glass breaking.

Your heart skipped as you dropped the bowl you were holding and ran towards the living room. Someone had knocked a cup from the table, the shards spraying across the floor. 

Heeseung was on his feet in a second, scooping Hana up away from the broken pieces, stepping away as the others got up. 

You paused in the doorway, your breath catching as you watched him. The others stepped around him to clean up, bickering lightly about who was to blame, but Heeseung’s focus never wavered. He murmured something in Hana’s ear, pointing at the broken cup, bouncing her gently as they swept up the shards.

He looked up and caught your eye, and it was suddenly so clear. 

You’d been an idiot. 

Looking at Heeseung now, it was impossible for you to deny any longer. Heeseung loved you. How had you managed to convince yourself otherwise?

Old grudges rose in the back of your mind—he left you. he left like it was nothing, like everyone else does, and he’s going to do it again—but for the first time, you pushed them away with ease. 

They were words. 

And what use were words when there you had actions to prove them otherwise? 

Something about that moment, the way Heeseung had gone for Hana first, letting the others handle the mess while he made sure she was alright, made your doubts melt away. His first instinct wasn’t to scold whoever had knocked the glass over, or even to help clean it up.

It was to keep your daughter safe. 

You spent the rest of the day with a lump in the back of your throat, the awkward ache of all the things you wanted to say to him. He seemed to notice your change in attitude, that something was bothering you, and he stuck even closer than he usually did, stopping to ask you if you were okay multiple times.

“Will you stay behind?” You asked, glancing up at him. “After everyone goes.”

He looked surprised, but nodded. “Of course.”

The others eventually left again, wanting to go out for dinner. Heeseung promised he’d catch up with them but they just rolled their eyes, not believing him for a second. 

With the house empty again, it was impossible for you to dance around it anymore. 

Hana was down for her nap—eased to sleep by Sunghoon and Jake’s rendition of her favorite bedtime story. Heeseung was leaned against the counter, as if half-expecting you to say something. And your words sat heavy in your throat, aching to come out.

“You don’t know how much it means to me,” You murmured finally, looking up to meet his gaze, “Having you and the others here. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.” 

“You don’t have to make it up to us, y/n. We’re happy to help.” 

“No,” You said, shifting uneasily. “I dont know how I’ll make it up… to you.” 

His eyes widened slightly, but you went on before he could answer, afraid that if you didn’t talk now, you’d never be able to again.

“I know…” You started, cringing internally at how difficult this was for you. Your feelings were so strong, why was it so hard to explain them? “I know I was harsh on you when you came over the first time. You were being kind, and I got defensive. I’m not proud of how I behaved at all,” You admitted. 

“Y/n…”

You stopped him. “Just—let me finish.”

He closed his mouth, but you saw the anxious twitch of his brow.

“You didn’t have to come back. You didn’t owe us anything, not after the way we left things and definitely not after the way I spoke to you. But you did anyways.” You crossed your arms, feeling self-concious. “I didn’t think that I would ever have this again,” You said, gesturing at the things left over from their visit. “I really thought I was going to do this by myself. And that was fine, I’d made my peace with it, but now…”

You paused, your eyes flicking to the picture Hana had drawn with the others—a mess of scribbles that resembled a house, and a group of people standing in front of it. “Now it’s different. And that’s hard for me.”

Heeseung swallowed, as if gathering every ounce of his strength to keep his voice steady. “It’s okay if… if you don’t want me here, y/n.” He held your gaze bravely, but you could tell the idea hurt him. “If this is too much, if you’d rather… I can go—”

“I don’t want you to go.”

He blinked, startled. 

“I know I’ve been guarded, and I’ve been pushing you away. But… but seeing you with her, and with me—it’s made me realize how much I’ve missed this. How much I’ve missed you.”

Heeseung’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t quite believe you. You almost smiled. He was so reserved, hands clenched at his sides, braced for what you were going to say. 

“I know I talk a big talk but… I don’t want to do this alone, not if you’re willing to be here. Not if you’re willing to… to be with us. I don’t want you to go.”

“You don’t want me to go.” He said it slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. 

You bit your lip, laughing a little bit at the look on his face. “No, I don’t.” 

Then, his face broke into a grin. His shoulders dropped and he was stepping towards you, pulling you into his chest like he’d been waiting to do it for years. 

And he had. He really had.

His touch was overwhelming. His arms wrapped around you, the heat of his throat warm against your cheek. You buried your face into his neck, breathing in the smell of his cologne and the lingering smell of kid that was all over him. All over both of you. 

You pulled away, giddy with nerves and relief. “Happy?”

“Happy,” He breathed. “So… what now?”

“I don’t know… what do you think?”

He quirked his head, lips twisting into a smile. “I think… I’ve been waiting a long time to kiss you again.”

Your heart skipped. “Then what’s stopping you?”

He smiled lazily, like he was half-dreaming, and brushed his nose against yours before pushing his lips onto yours. You melted against him, so happy you could hardly think straight.

Heeseung pushed you back against the counter, his hands on your waist as yours threaded through his hair. 

“I was an asshole,” He mumbled against your mouth. “I’m sorry” 

You shook your head, breathless beneath his lips. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

Besides, you thought, that was years ago. And the Heeseung in front of you now was not the same one that had left you behind. 

Not by a longshot.

[moonstruckme]

hi angel!! can you please write a fic with sirius x shy reader where she meant to be going out with sirius and his friends where some girls who have previously liked him and shes feeling nervous/insecure about what they'll think of her so she drinks a bit for liquid courage and later on sirius takes care of her listening to her drunk babbling and reassuring her? thanks lovely!!

Thank you <3

cw: intoxication, feelings of inadequacy, some mature implications but nothing happens

Sirius Black x shy!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The thing is, Mary is really lovely. She’s sweet, bubbly, gregarious. One of those people who makes you feel in on the joke. And she’s beautiful, so you can understand why Sirius dated her. They must have been a perfect match. 

You, you need three gin fizzes before you can even begin to match Mary’s natural congeniality. Not to mention the rest of Sirius’ friends. They’re a fun, chattery bunch, each clever and funny and entertaining in their own individual but reliable ways. Your packed corner booth covers so many topics so quickly it makes your head spin. 

You find some solace in the women’s toilets. White fluorescent lights that bring attention to the makeup smudged just underneath your eyes, it’s here that you realize you may have overdone it. You look at yourself in the mirror as you release a slow breath, listening to the laughter outside the door from within your little bubble of quiet. 

When you force yourself to go back out, Sirius is waiting. 

“Hi.” Your liquid courage seems to abandon you without the rowdy pub atmosphere to bolster it. This is just you and Sirius in a dim hallway, your boyfriend’s smile igniting a familiar warmth in his eyes and nervous flutter in your gut. “I could’ve found my own way back,” you say. 

“I didn’t think you couldn’t.” Sirius steps into your space, hand on your waist as he presses his lips to yours gently. “I just wanted a chance to do that without getting loads of shit for it.” 

You smile. “There would have been booing,” you agree. 

“Oh, definitely. James would’ve pretended to be sick.” 

You rest your forehead on his shoulder. Selfishly, you want to keep the both of you here a little while longer. Sirius seems to understand this, his hand drawing back and forth over the sliver of skin between your trousers and the back of your shirt lazily. 

“Mary had to leave,” he says, “but she threatened me with all sorts of vile things if I didn’t give you her number. She wants you to have coffee sometime.” 

“That’s nice,” you hum, really extraordinarily pleased. “Why’d she have to go?” 

“She forgot she was supposed to meet a friend at ten.” 

You smile ruefully. That sounds exactly like a girl like Mary. Her only flaw is that she has too many people who wish for her company and not enough time to devote to them all. 

Sirius smells nice. Like clove and nighttime, and a little bit like the greasy chips James ordered for the table. You imagine you smell like gin and fizz. You mumble your question into the neckline of his shirt, so that the warmth of your breath warms the cotton and Sirius makes a confused tsking sound. 

“I can’t hear you when you talk like that, baby,” he says, encouraging you away from him with a hand on your cheek. You look up at him through heavy lashes. 

“Have I embarrassed you?” you murmur. 

Sirius looks like he’s going to laugh. You won’t be able to take it if he does, you think. You’ll have to lose Mary’s number as well as his and move across town. 

“What?” His voice is amused, brows raised. “No, you haven’t. Not at all. Why would you think that?” 

You shrug, embarrassed. “There’s makeup under my eyes.” 

“Is there?” Sirius’ smile grows. He adjusts his hold on your face, licking the pad of his thumb. “I didn’t notice, but we can’t have that, can we? Hold still.” 

You don’t hold still, shying away the first time he reaches for you. But Sirius understands that it’s not him you’re trying to get away from; he’s patient and diligent, wiping beneath your lashes with careful touches. You feel hot from the tips of your ears down to your chest. 

“There. Perfect as ever before.” He plants a smiling kiss on your lips. “Is that all, lovely?” 

“I think I’ve maybe had too much.” 

Concern touches the space between Sirius’ brows. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“No, I just—well, no one else had as much. I feel like they can tell I’m faking.” 

Sirius is frowning properly now. Inadequacy rings baldly in your tone. His thumb strokes down your cheek. “Faking what?” he asks you. 

“Being good at this,” you murmur.

“You are good at this.” He seems defensive, as if you’re discussing his shortcomings and not your own. “You don’t—there’s no one way you have to be. Sweetheart, I want you here because I want my friends to meet you. It sort of defeats the purpose if you’re putting on someone else for them to meet.” 

“I just—okay. I’m not jealous of Mary. That’s not what this is.” You’re talking a bit too fast, drink lubricating your throat so near anything seems likely to come out. “But I can see how you two would have worked together, and how she works with your friends—she fits in. Everyone’s so fun, and you’re all fast with your jokes, and I’m, I’m not that. I can try, but I think…” Your voice quiets. “I’m not very good at it.” 

As you’re talking, Sirius’ eyes are narrowing. He’s brazen in his thoughtfulness, seeming to size you up while he listens. Whatever audacity is left in you sputters out under the weight of that look. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asks after a moment.

You hum softly. 

“I don’t know how you’ve not managed to pick up on this, because I haven’t been trying for subtlety” —he draws you closer by your waist, until you’re nearly stepping on his toes— ”but I think you’re perfect. Really. You can go out there and ask anyone at our table, they’ll tell you I’ve been saying it since a week after we met. Marlene would probably love to tell you, actually, she found it rather irritating.” 

You look down at his throat, but Sirius encourages your chin back up with his finger. “You’re fun,” he says. “You’re loads of fun. And you’re just as quick with jokes—actually, you’re loads funnier than Remus, though you can’t tell him I said that.” 

“Sirius,” you chide, suppressing a smile. 

“Dead serious,” he says with a straight face. “Really, lovely, just because you’re not as outspoken as all of us twats fighting to shout over each other doesn’t mean you don’t have important things to say. They know that, they all know that. And can I tell you something else?” 

You hum again, made wary by the glint in his eye. 

Sirius leans closer to your ear. “I sort of like that you’re usually only loud for me. In private.” 

Your laughter comes out suddenly enough to startle you both, you closing a hand over your mouth while Sirius leans away, grinning. 

“God, sorry,” you whisper, looking around in case you’ve attracted attention, “that was loud.” 

“Well, we are in private.” 

“You’re awful.” You hide against his front, giggling. 

“Yes, yes, I’m awful and you’re perfect.” Sirius kisses your hair. “I know all of this already, it’s only news to you. Listen, I don’t mean to rush you, but we probably should get back to our table before they send James for us. They were already complaining about you being too long in the loo before I left; they’ve grown rather attached to you.” 

Your brief silence must communicate enough of your surprise, because Sirius laughs. 

“Oh, right, yeah. They really like you. Shocking.” 

[bowtiepasta]

kita’s sitting contentedly on the porch in sweatpants and a t-shirt with sleeves he very clearly cut himself. there’s a cup of cold tea sweating by his knee, moreso lukewarm by now, your bare feet in his lap, and a hummingbird chipping away at the fruit his grandmother spent the afternoon cutting.

the air smells like citrus rinds and fresh-cut grass. his thumb runs along the bone of your ankle, calloused from farm work but soft where it counts.

“you look real smug over there,” you say, squinting at him without lifting your head. “like you aren’t the idiot that spilled juice all over your shirt an hour ago.”

“ain’t smug,” he doesn’t look up, keeps thumbing at the arch of your right foot. “just comfortable.”

you hum. “comfortable with the idea of marryin’ me?”

that gets his attention. his eyes meet yours, adoration immediately settling in them. “that a proposal, or you just flirtin’ to get outta helpin’ with dishes?”

you smile, oh so sugary-sweet, “can’t it be both?”

the bird dips down toward the plate, pecks at a chunk of melon and flits away with it.

kita watches it for a second, then turns back to your feet in his lap. his thumb goes back to rubbing at that same little spot on your ankle — second nature.

“she said you were good luck,” he says suddenly.

you blink. “who did?”

“gran.”

your heart stutters. “she said that?”

“mm.” he shrugs like it’s nothing, but his cheeks are turning pink. “said the tomatoes grew sweeter this year, and she hasn’t yelled at that godforsaken neighbor in weeks. thinks it’s ��cause of you.”

you snort. “i’ve been here, what, three times total?”

“apparently that’s all it took,” he says, serious now. “she likes you. really likes you.”

you raise a brow. “that surprising?”

kita sits up straighter, suddenly full of conviction. “yes. it is. you don’t get it — gran doesn’t like anyone. she’s sweet to their face, sure, but the moment they’re out the door it’s all ‘that one’s got no sense,’ or ‘he dresses like his mama never taught him how.’”

you laugh, leaning on his shoulder. “she said those things about the twins, didn’t she?”

“whispered it while ‘samu could still hear, too.” he shakes his head, sounding in awe. “but you? she lets you sit in her recliner. she makes you iced tea from scratch, not the jug mix.”

“boiled the leaves herself,” kita says, holding up a hand like he’s swearing in court. “haven’t seen her do that since my uncle’s birthday. not even for me.”

your foot slips off his lap, and he catches it again without missing a heartbeat.

“i mean it,” he murmurs, quieter now. “she loves you. and to me that’s… big. real big.”

your voice softens. “you care what she thinks?”

“course i do.” he looks a little embarrassed now, gaze not-so-subtly traveling down to your ring finger. “the woman raised me. it matters. a whole bunch.”

there’s a short pause. the cicadas kick up louder in the bushes right on cue, and the last bit of sun stretches long shadows across the porch.

“you know,” you say, voice as soft as the dying light, “you keep rubbing my foot like that and i might have to actually marry you out of obligation.”

kita huffs out a laugh, hands working at your calves now. “might?” he echoes. “actually..? even after all the things i’ve done for you today?”

“all you’ve done for me?” you push his face away with your palm, smiling ear to ear despite yourself. “i was the one who peeled the grapefruit. didn’t hear me complain when it squirted me in the eye did you?”

he grins. “my brave soldier.”

“damn straight.”

“but really,” he starts again, thumb pausing at your heel, “you ever think about it?”

“foot rubs?” you deadpan. “dream about ‘em.”

kita chuckles again, the joy you are to be around. “marriage,” he clarifies. “with me.”

“sometimes.”

he leans back onto his elbows, looking out toward the yard where the hummingbird’s darting back toward the fruit plate, stealing a melon slice.

“i think about it,” he confesses. “think about what flavor cake you’d want, if you’d wear your hair up or down. think about you in white. had a few dreams about that last one.”

you look down at your hands, gather them in your lap. “you’re too good at that.”

“too good at what?”

“sayin’ stuff that makes my heart feel all wobbly.”

he laughs, your favorite sound. “think your heart’s wobbly now — wait ‘til i get down on one knee.”

you stretch your toes against the inside of his thigh, playful. “if i was mrs. kita, you’d still be good to me if i hogged the covers, let hair go down the drain?”

“when you’re mrs. kita.” he corrects, palming your thigh now. “ain’t stopped me before.”

“those are boyfriend duties,” you say, hand over your heart. “sure you could handle wife-level chaos?”

“darlin’,” he says, nosing your cheek before he kisses it, “i’d carry your chaos around in my shirt pocket if it meant i got to call you mine.”

you groan. “enough of that, shin.”

his eyes crinkle at the corners. “hmm? of what?”

“i’m gonna start doodling hearts on my skin around your last name like we’re in middle school.”

he leans in, tucks the stray hairs from your face behind your ears. “go on and do it. looks good on you.”

“what does?”

his voice dips. “my name.”

you reach forward and tug at the hem of his cutoff, an attempt to cover up the shade of red you’ve quickly turned into within the past couple of minutes. “…can’t believe i’m fallin’ for a man who can’t cut even sleeves.”

“can’t believe you’re gonna marry him,” he teases.

you kick at him, yet you don’t bother denying it.

then you pad barefoot into cool floorboards, screen doors clattering shut behind you.

in the kitchen, the fan spins overhead. the scent of old wood and lemon cleaner clings to everything, comforting in a way you never expected a home to be.

you lean against the counter to rinse the peach-sticky plate at the sink, water running cold.

“dry towel’s hangin’ on the oven,” a voice calls.

you glance back.

his grandmother’s at the table, sorting green beans into a big metal bowl. her hands move like clockwork — snap, flick, drop — she’s done it a hundred times before. probably thousands. doesn’t look up, but the corners of her mouth twitch like she knows.

i see you. i’ve seen this before. i know exactly where it’s going.

you reach for the towel, dabbing at your arms.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to drip,” you mumble, guilty while the mess collects on the wood. “i’ll go wipe it up.”

“don’t fuss,” she clicks her tongue. “you’re fine.”

you hover there awkwardly for a second, unsure if you should offer to help or scurry back out. before you can decide, she sounds out again, hushed.

“he’s steadier with you around.”

your hand stills on the wool.

she drops another into the bowl. “always been a good boy. but you — you make him settle, not slow down. there’s a difference, there is.”

your throat goes dry. “that’s kind of you to say.”

“don’t say nothin’ unless i mean it.”

you bite your lip, eyes stinging. “i care about him.”

“i know,” she says simply.

silence settles again, thick like molasses. then she adds, so quiet you nearly miss it:

“and if he does it right, he’ll marry you on that back lawn under the dogwood tree, same as his grandpa married me.”

you swallow, unsure how to respond.

she finally looks up, meets your gaze square. “that sound alright to you, sweetheart?”

you hum, soft and teary. “sounds like a dream.”

“good,” she goes back to her beans. “now go on and tell him i ain’t pickin’ no more unless he gets his lazy behind in here and grabs the second bowl.”

“yes ma’am,” you nod, barely containing the smile.

outside, kita’s still on the porch, bent over the cups, humming under his breath — some old country tune he often falls back on when his hands are full and his heart’s even fuller. (like right now.)

the screen door thwaps shut behind you.

you bump his arm with your hip and whisper, mischievous. “you’re in trouble, shinsuke.”

“what? why?”

“she says you gotta help with the beans.”

he groans dramatically, flopping back like he’s wounded. “throw me to the wolves just like that?”

you grin, sitting next to him. “might be worth it to get in on her good side. gonna be mrs. kita, after all.”

his eyes cut to yours, boyish and in love. “might be sooner than you think. ‘m not just messin’ around when i talk about you bein’ my wife someday.”

“got a ring tucked behind them peach slices?”

“not yet,” he says. “though i do have a down payment on somethin’ shiny. if you’re patient with me.”

you smile so wide your cheeks start to hurt. “good thing your gran says i’ve got that in spades.”

kita’s fingers still on your palm, face softening.

“she’s right,” he murmurs. “always is.”

[averyisnotpresent]

long time coming family-friend!pazzi au

𓇼 in which: azzi fudd has been counting down the days until her summer vacation begins and she gets to reunite with her best family-friends. but something feels different about this year. why are her quiet moments with paige so loud, and why does her stomach curl when they embrace like it never had before? (slightly TSITP inspired)

𓇼 warnings: swearing, sexual content (fingering- both receiving)

𓇼 wc: 8.8k

𓇼 avery's note: hi! this is my first time writing smut so i hope it's not too bad. some events in this story are kinda childish i guess you could say, but obviously i wasn't gonna make them minors so just ignore that! also imagine azzi's like 5 inches shorter than paige (it's for the plot😉) live react if you can! | my masterlist

The cool breeze combs through Azzi’s curly hair and the beaming sun lights up her tanned skin. The light illuminates the smile plastered onto her face, the one she’s been wearing this whole car ride. These summers were the things Azzi had been counting down the days until, getting more and more eager as the “days until” countdown she had on her phone got lesser and lesser.

She begins to pack up the things splayed around her as she passes the bright blue sign: “Silver Lake, MI”. The best memories Azzi can think of come from this place, on the beach, fruity drink in hand, but most of all, the people she spends it with - the Bueckers.

From the very first Silver Lake getaway, Azzi and Paige stuck like glue. Azzi might have only been 8 years old, but everyone surrounding them knew those two were inseparable, and would continue to be. 10 years later, Paige just finishing her freshman year of college and Azzi preparing to start hers, their bond was no different. The two girls had been texting nearly every day of the school year, not being able to contain their excitement until they got back to where they were happiest.

Azzi messily folds up the blanket she had been wrapped in and stuffs it in the backpack laying at her feet. The warm Michigan air floods Azzi’s skin when she rolls the window down further and breathes in the salty smell of home. She peels the navy hoodie she had been wearing over her neck, leaving her outfit to be made of jean shorts and a flowery tube top. Strings draw two lines from the hem of her tube top over her shoulders and back down: her pink bikini top peeking through. 

Jon, Azzi’s young brother, elbows her in the side from the seat next to her: “Who you tryna’ impress, huh?”

“Nobody. This is just how I dress, weirdo.” Azzi shoots back, rolling her eyes and tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “It’s like 90 degrees. I just don’t wanna melt into a puddle the second I step outside.” Jon smacks his lips, giving Azzi an eye roll of his own before kicking the back of his dad’s seat.

Before Jon can even open his mouth, Tim lifts his hand, quieting Jon down before he can pester him. “Three minutes tops and we’ll be there. Bob just texted me saying he and everyone else got there a little bit ago.” Azzi and Jon both grin wider than they were before, excited to see their loved ones after much too long of a time apart.

The three minutes pass slowly, agonizingly even. Azzi unbuckles her seatbelt before Tim has even got close to the white house’ driveway and her door is open before he can even think about shifting into park.

Sitting on the porch is Paige, long blonde, slightly wavy, hair cascading down her pale back and lips curved into a smile just as big as Azzi’s. Blue swirly basketball shorts cover her legs and a plain white t-shirt hangs off her tall frame. Paige slams down the phone in her hand, letting it topple over to the ground when it flips off of the table she set it on, and runs over to Azzi.

Azzi chuckles a little under her breath, giggling at how funny Paige looks running over to her, but doesn’t seem to care much when Paige wraps her arms around her waist and embraces her in a tight hug. Paige rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder as her breath fans into Azzi’s ear. “Hey, Az.” Paige whispers, excitement filling her voice, but also some sort of relief. Like she couldn’t stand another minute being away from the curly head.

Azzi goes to greet Paige back, but before she can get any words out, Paige lifts Azzi up, spinning her around by her waist and watching as Azzi’s smile grows, despite her groans of protest and the look of annoyance in her eyes.

“I was about to say I missed you, but y’know what? I’m not so sure I do after that.” Azzi says, and while her voice has a tone of sass, Paige knows underneath it all she’s joking. Or at least she hopes so.

“I would argue back, but I’m actually a kind person and am happy to see you. I swear the school years seem longer every year.” Paige answers back, finally surrendering Azzi to the ground and letting her out of her grasp.

She takes this time to fully drink in the picture of Azzi. She looks about the same as last year, but she seems to be glowing in a way she never had before. She seems to carry a newfound confidence with her. Paige knows Azzi never would have worn something like this last summer, at least not anywhere where her brothers could see her, that is.

Azzi brings her head up from smoothing out a wrinkle in the flowered fabric and her dimples pop out as she smiles from Paige’s sentiment. “Maybe I missed you too, Bueckers. But only maybe.” Azzi admits, a purplish blush flushing her cheeks with her slight white lie.

“Hey, Paige!” Tim hollers from behind his family’s car, “You wanna give me a hand with these bags or what? Put those empty hands to work?”

“I gotchu.” Paige accepts, leaving Azzi in her flushed state to go grab a bag or two from the Fudd’s trunk. She daps Tim up before he pulls her into a hug.

“Good to see you kid.” Tim greets, used to being ignored during these trips for his daughter. Paige agrees, then hoists Azzi’s backpack from the backseat over her shoulder and grabs the matching duffel bag in her free hand, the other holding Katie, Azzi’s mother,'s beach bag.

Paige trudges forward with the bags weighing down her arms, Azzi shamelessly letting her eyes follow the Paige's flexed biceps. Her sleeves are slightly rolled after the straps of Azzi’s backpack moved them, and the slopes of her arm knot with every step.

“Did you wanna carry any of your things or am I your butler now?” Paige teases, already halfway into the house, Azzi following suit.

“Y’know what, I think I’m okay actually. Thanks for offering though.” Azzi jokes, letting Paige carry her things up to the room she designated hers a decade ago.

“Yeah alright, princess. Don’t be expecting me to do anything else like this.” Paige scoffs, and Azzi knows she’s rolling her eyes in front of her. Once Paige sets Azzi’s stuff down on her bed, leaving Katie’s beach bag at the top of the stairs, she grabs Azzi’s hand and tugs her right back down the stairs.

“That your suit on under there?” Paige confirms, earning a nod from Azzi as well as a knowing look. She does this every year.

Paige grabs two towels from atop the kitchen table downstairs and folds them over her shoulder. “We’re heading to the beach!” Paige calls up to her parents, she gets no response and just shrugs before grabbing Azzi again and rushing outside.

“Be safe!” Katie yells, still helping her sons get their things out of the car and trying to settle an argument between Jon and Jose over God knows what. Azzi rolls her eyes, annoyed with how protective her mom still is, but can’t be bothered for long.

Her and Paige start down the worn-grass path down to the beach, birds around them singing, like they’re just as happy as Paige and Azzi to be back.

“So,” Paige starts, “UCLA, huh? They’re lucky to have you.” Paige sounds a little bitter as she says the last part. She had been hoping Azzi would come to UConn with her, so they could finally see each other without having a year break in between. But Azzi was striving for somewhere with better academics. She had always been smart, and so had Paige, but never like Azzi.

Azzi got into UConn of course, but she knew she’d be doing herself a disservice if she went there. And thought it hurt Paige, she understood.

“I’m sorry, P. I wanted us to live out our little eight-year old dreams, but it just wasn’t gonna work.” Azzi admits. Her voice is sorrowful, like she truly means everything she’s saying.

“We’ve got all of summer. And when these summers stop, we’ve gotta promise we’ll still see each other.” Paige pleads. She knows she sounds immature, but that’s always what these summers are. She can be a kid again. She can be herself again. And she gets to be herself with Azzi.

“Agreed. Now stop being sentimental, we just got here!” Azzi scolds, punching Paige lightly on the shoulder without any malice behind it. Both girls smile at the contact and the grins stay put as they keep walking.

“So,” Azzi begins a new line of questioning. “How has college been? You finally find yourself someone special?” Paige has always been a fan-favorite everywhere she goes with… well, everyone. Guys and girls basically fall at her feet whenever she goes out in public and while Paige never complains or really turns them down, she never says yes either.

Paige has the kind of demeanor where you catch her eye from across the room and immediately are sucked in. She has the most genuine eyes, and if you see them once, they’re pretty hard to forget. She’s attractive, there’s no getting past that, but in a sort of mysterious way. Where you wonder why she doesn’t say yes to all the people offering themselves up to her. Not that Azzi’s been wondering or anything. ‘Cause she definitely hasn’t.

“Unfortunately I’ve been pretty busy with, you know, the academic part of college.” Paige laughs at Azzi’s question and slightly giggles while she answers. “A couple people tried, but no one stuck. What about you? I saw that guy you went to prom with on your Instagram. What’s up with him?”

Azzi scoffs out of what Paige interprets as disbelief, like she couldn’t believe Paige would even think that. “JD? He’s just a friend. One of his friends was going with Miranda, you know Miranda,” Paige nods along, “and I needed a date, so.” Azzi pauses, swallowing and breathing in for the first time since before she started her explanation. “End of story.”

Paige nods, not really having anything much else to add to the topic. “You look different this year, Az.” Paige admits after a few moments of silence. Not awkward though, it never is with them. At least before now.

“Different?” Azzi repeats, not sure if she heard Paige right. Paige nods and Azzi racks her brain for what she could mean. “Good different or bad different?”

“I dunno.” Paige starts to explain casually. “More - I don’t know - sure of yourself, I guess. Less shy.” Paige looks over at Azzi to see her facial expression which she can’t read. Paige has always prided herself with being perceptive, knowing how people are feeling, but she has no idea what Azzi’s thinking. To clarify, she speaks again, “Or maybe I’m making it all up. It’s been a while since last summer.”

Azzi knows what Paige is saying. She is different, I guess you could say, than last summer. Less scared. I mean, she’s an adult now. She can’t be scared to go to a party or wear a crop top anymore. Or maybe she can. But her friends from back home are very confident that she can’t.

“Azzi?” Paige breaks Azzi’s dissociation. “You in there?” Paige asks, waving a hand in front of Azzi’s wide, brown eyes. “I asked if you wanted to jump off the dock.”

Azzi blinks quickly a few times, bringing herself back to focus at the sound of Paige’s slightly raspy voice. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.” Azzi mumbles out, trying not to stumble over her own feet.

The two girls reach the beach, the sand hitting their feet and sticking to the bottoms of their sandals. “Race you to the dock?” Paige suggests, the little kid competitiveness she never grew out of shining through.

“Oh, you are so on.” Azzi challenges, counting down to three and sprinting like her life depends on it. Just like when they were little.

Some things never change.

Paige reaches the dock first, just like she’s been doing for the past ten years and Azzi groans as she arrives just a few seconds too late. “You’re like five inches taller, this is not fair!” Azzi complains, pouting like she did when she and Paige did this the first time.

As Azzi bends over and catches her breath, her hands falling to her knees and her breaths short and loud, and Paige watches her, hard. The way her chest rises and falls, and her teeny little bikini top poking through more and more with each breath. The way little sweat beads wet her forehead and collarbone before she quickly wipes them away.

But, before Paige can allow herself to get too wrapped up in the brunette, she places her large hands on either side of her shoulders and pushes her into the water.

Azzi lets out a squeal as she falls into the water, clothes on and all, her side hitting the water with a splat.

As she swims back up the surface she pushes a loose curl out of her eye and catches her breath from her unexpected entrance. She pulls a hand up from under the water and flings a big splash of water at Paige, soaking through her white shirt and getting in her eyes.

“Chill, I was gonna get in anyways.” Paige says as she strips her clothes, peeling off her now very wet shirt and dampened shorts. She’s wearing a black bikini, though it’s not as feminine as Azzi’s is. The top is cut with a straight line rather than Azzi’s triangle bikini, the two girls’ personalities showing out in their styles.

Azzi studies her as she strips, and thinks that maybe Paige is the one who seems different this year. She looks at Azzi like she’s never done before, and Azzi smiles wider than she ever had. A year is a long time I guess.

Time to change.

“Throw me your clothes, Az.” Paige offers, holding her arms out to catch Azzi’s drenched clothes. Azzi struggles to unbutton and slide down her shorts while she treads water, her legs being just barely too short to stand in the deep blue water.

Once Azzi’s left in her bikini she throws her clothes up to Paige, who catches both pieces with one hand like it’s nothing, balling them up and lying them next to her clothes.

“Watch out, princess.” Paige warns as she jumps into the cool water, cannonballing and drenching Azzi, if it’s even possible for her to get wetter than she already is.

“God, you’re so annoying, Paige.” Azzi says as she spits water out of her mouth, coughing slightly when Paige comes to the surface.

“Yeah, but you still love me.”

“Can’t seem to figure out why.”

☀︎༄.° two weeks later ☀︎༄.°

Azzi is scrolling on her phone in bed when a knock arrives at her door and she knows who it is even before the blonde strolls into her room.

Cooking book in hand, smug smile on her face, and hair pulled back into a low bun, Paige hangs in Azzi’s door frame, leaning against the wood like she wants something Azzi has.

“Can I… help you, Paige?” Azzi laughs, pressing her phone into her white comforter, shutting away Instagram and zoning into Paige.

“Can you help me bake? I was ‘sposed to make cookies for tonight but I might have burned them. Only like hypothetically, though.” Paige’s cheeks flush, slightly embarrassed with her cooking skills, even if she claims it’s not her fault.

“How do you even mess up cookies? Put the ingredients in, put them in the oven for like 8 minutes and you’re done. They’re like the simplest dessert.”

“Are you gonna gloat or actually help? ‘Cause I can make you eat burnt cookies if you want.”

Azzi pushes herself off her bed, pushing a few empty candy wrappers to the side and brushing off the invisible dust on her tank top. “I’ll help.” Azzi grudgingly agrees. “Only because I’m terrified for what you might make me eat.”

Azzi and Paige wind down the stairs of their beach home, finding their way to the kitchen with giggles and smiles shared between them along the way.

As they arrive, Azzi sees the tray of Paige’s first baking attempt, the ashes falling through the slots of the cooling dish and landing on the marble counter.

“Again, I pose the question: How do you even mess up cookies this badly?” Azzi laughs, not even trying to hide her disbelief with Paige’s… lack of talent, we’ll say.

“I think I forgot a couple things. Like y’know the eggs… and maybe the flour and baking soda.” Paige comes to the conclusion that she forgot at least half of the ingredients and left them in the oven for double the time they needed, but Azzi’s just grateful she didn’t burn the house down.

“Open up that book and find the recipe. Then you're gonna let me tell you what ingredients to get and I’m gonna double and triple check you actually got all of them.” Azzi orders, her voice stern but still partly playful.

“Yes, ma’am.” Paige smirks.

Azzi’s stomach churns. She doesn’t know why.

Paige flips through the old cooking book, its pages yellowed and filled with oily fingerprints from all of the times her and Azzi did this in years past. “We wanna do chocolate chip right?” Paige asks and Azzi nods her head to confirm.

“Alright, I got the page. Oven goes to 375.” Azzi walks over to the silver oven, making a tone out of the beeps as she punches in the numbers to preheat the oven.

Azzi walks back over, Paige’s eyes along with her, and steals the cooking book from Paige. “Go to the pantry and get both sugars, flour, baking soda and powder.” Azzi demands, Paige leaving her side to go get the ingredients.

Paige comes back with the containers balanced on various parts of her body, the large bags of flour held tightly in her oversized hands. Azzi’s watches as her fingers flex from the weight of the bags.

Her stomach continues to churn. Reason still unknown to Azzi.

Azzi’s leaned against one of the set of cabinets, reading the manual for what materials for Paige to get next. “We need vanilla extract and chocolate chips, too.”

Azzi, not realizing she’s in front of the cabinet that holds both of those things, continues to engross herself in the cooking book, mind forgetting Paige and the organization of their kitchen.

Paige, not finding it necessary to ask Azzi to move, reaches her hand over Azzi’s head, her hand meeting the cabinet handle with ease. Paige’s hands are now full with more cooking supplies as she comes down, and Azzi, who still hasn’t realized the precarious position they’re in, is stagnant in her position from earlier.

Paige begins to tip off balance, leaning away from Azzi as to not hit her, but out of sorts from the way she’s leaning. As she starts to slip she quickly lets the bag of chocolate chips drop the counter to free up one of her hands, which falls to Azzi’s bare waist for stability.

“Thanks for moving, princess. Almost knocked me over.” Paige thanks sarcastically, her hand still wrapped around Azzi’s hip bone, her cool hand heating up at the contact with Azzi’s warm skin.

Azzi looks up from her book finally, her eyes first finding Paige’s bright blue eyes, then her pale hand on her, then up to her eyes again. Paige looks deep into Azzi’s brown eyes, staring with some sort of uncertainty and nervousness. Her hand shakes ever so slightly, so minimally that Azzi barely even notices it, goosebumps forming under Paige’s calloused palms.

Neither girl moves, cooking book still in Azzi’s arms, vanilla in Paige’s free hand, slight perplexed smile on both girls' faces. Paige breathes in, her grip on Azzi tightening as she does, not in a harsh way, just like she wants to be closer.

Paige is the first to break the silence: “You’re so pretty, Az. You know that?”

Azzi breathes out shakily, her and Paige’s trance broken and suddenly the silence between them is loud. Uncomfortable.

She can hear the air conditioner purring, the fridge buzzing, her parents talking faintly with Paige’s on the porch on the opposite side of the home.

Azzi’s the first to pull away, Paige’s hand falling to the counter, the contact making a loud ‘slap’ noise as its descent finishes.

“Did you get the stuff?” Azzi asks, ignoring Paige’s compliment and focusing back in on the task at hand.

“Yeah.” Paige says slowly and softly. Her voice has a slight tone of surprise, like she was expecting Azzi to say something different. Or maybe less expecting and more so hoping. “Yeah I got ‘em.”

☀︎༄.° three weeks later ☀︎༄.°

Azzi was shoving a few of her clothes and as many blankets as she could find into her duffel bag as the sky began to turn from a light blue to a deeper navy. The birds were loud, the sun was hot, and the bugs were buzzing, but she didn’t care.

This was always the best part of summer.

One night a summer, the Bueckers and Fudds slept under the stars, sometimes in tents if it was raining, but no matter what: the last day of the vacation, this was their tradition.

The kids played a game of flag football that grew much too competitive much too quickly and the adults played cornhole and sipped on their beers.

Tim and Bob self identify themselves as chefs, and cook every typical barbecue food you could think of, and nothing more than a grain is ever left over.

The beach house sat atop a hill, the backyard stretching at least three acres, with a clear path down to the beach that was just their own, until their younger neighbors tried to sneak in occasionally.

Azzi loved the privacy: loved feeling like she had a place that was just her own, and her family’s of course.

As Azzi finished packing in an extra pair of socks, Paige walked in through the open door, her navy backpack slung over her newly tanned shoulder.

Paige’s bright red, burned skin finally turned to a tan, her pale skin never tanning easily. Like clockwork, Paige gets a near third degree burn halfway through the summer when she’s decided “sunscreen isn’t for her” and everyone else groans, knowing they’re in for at least a week of her complaining after.

“Do you know if it’s supposed to rain tonight? Your dad was asking if we should grab the tents.”

Azzi shook her head, knowing her weather app told her there was a 0% chance from when she checked earlier. “Just bring our sleeping bags from the laundry room. I’ll be out in a second.”

Paige nods, leaving Azzi to zip up her bag and turn off her lights. The kids made a rule years ago, much too outdated at this point to still be following, that they couldn’t bring phones, and once outside, they couldn’t go back in. Hence, sleeping in a gross tent rather than in their warm, more importantly, roofed, beds.

The families piled in outside, throwing their bags and blankets to the couches on the back porch and leaving to go set up the games. Azzi shook the can of washable spray paint in her hand, drawing poor wavy lines in the grass to make a makeshift field with a halfway line and some uneven end zones.

The teams had been the same as long as Azzi could remember, and once Drew, Paige’s much younger brother, was born, he just joined in with Paige, not really being old enough to contribute anyways.

Azzi played a quick game of rock-paper-scissors with Jose, the boy winning the game and awarding himself the position on offense. He stood behind Jon, who held the football in his hands, bent over and ready to throw.

Jon threw the ball to Jose, who caught it with ease. Jon ran out into the field waiting for Jose to pass it back, Paige sticking to him like glue, her tall figure towering over his. Azzi instructed Drew to count to five and then run over to Jose and pull his flag.

Drew counted softly, Azzi holding him in place as he counted to five in less than two seconds. “You little cheater.” Azzi teased before letting him go after a real count of five.

Drew chased after Jose, trying to pull at his red flag. Jose managed to pull himself away from Drew, throwing a rushed pass to Jon near the halfcourt line. Jon threw himself forwards in an attempt to catch the pass, pushing Paige over with him and both of them toppling to the ground.

They both fell to the hard dirt with a bit of a groan, the grass not very forgiving after it’d been run around on and mowed so many times. Azzi rushed over to Paige, Jon already being helped up by Drew. Paige sat up slowly, lifting her shirt up at the hem to see if a bruise was forming.

Azzi watched intently at the reveal of skin, irritated but not purpled yet. Azzi saw a flash of Paige’s soft ab lines, the ones that had seemed to distract her all summer long. Azzi offered her hand out to Paige, the older girl accepting with a slight grimace.

She stood up with ease to Azzi’s relief, and let her shirt fall out of her grasp as she did. “Don’t worry, Az. I’m good.” Paige responded before Azzi could even ask, seeing a look of worry painted across her face.

“Second down!”

-

The girls, finally out of breath and sweating, too tired to keep going in their football game, take to the porch where their dads are calling out frantically that dinner is ready and that they have to “rush over before their burgers burn.”

Jon and Jose sprint over, pushing each other as they do so, trying to get first pick for their dinner. Azzi and Paige take their time, Paige’s arm casually swung over Azzi’s shoulder, giggling in her ear about how badly they beat Azzi’s brothers.

They both grab their paper plates, filling them up with various dishes: corn, mac and cheese, hot dogs - the barbecue basics.

As they take their seats, the girls waste no time before digging into their meals, Azzi messily biting into her ketchup drenched hamburger. As she pulls her food away from her mouth, a swatch of ketchup stays on the corner of her lip, accentuated even more when she looks over to Paige who’s laughing at her.

“What are you laughing for, weirdo?” Azzi teases, slapping Paige on the bicep playfully.

Paige, not seeing a need for explanation, leans in closer to Azzi, her hand finding the crook of Azzi’s neck and her thumb caressing the corner of her plump lips.

Her thumb swipes the ketchup out of the slit, before bringing it to her own mouth and licking it off.

“Ew!” Azzi exclaims. “Paige, that’s disgusting.” She continues to complain. “You are such a child, my God.”

Paige just chuckles, her stomach beginning to hurt from laughing for so long. “Shut it, princess.”

-

Eventually the night slows down, the clear sky starting to form bright stars and the families setting up for bed. People’s t-shirts were replaced with hoodies, for the most part, which all had “Silver Lake” plastered across the chest or the sleeve, another one of their traditions.

“Paige, will you throw me my sleeping bag?” Azzi asks as she throws her curly locs into a bun above her head. She forgot to pack her bonnet, so a simple high bun will have to do.

Azzi watches as Paige pushes through the pile of sleeping bags, looking for the ones she brought for herself and Azzi, however she comes back up with a guilty and embarrassed face.

“I… may have grabbed the big sleeping bag and thought I grabbed two.” Paige scratches her head, holding up the queen sized sleeping bag and pointing to the otherwise bare couch cushions, all the other sleeping bags already claimed.

“Whatever, it’s fine. Jon is totally gonna kill me if I go back inside to get it.” Azzi sighs. “I swear, Bueckers,” Azzi points, but Paige cuts her off before she can continue.

“One of these days I’m gonna kill you. Yeah I know.” Paige rolls her eyes having heard that phrase spoken by Azzi a few times more than one.

Paige and Azzi drag their sleeping bag out to the top of the hill, near the path to the beach, like they’d always done. Paige takes off her t-shirt, crawling into the sleeping bag in just her shorts and sports bra.

She catches Azzi watching her, her eyes not watching her face but her figure and how it moves. “You good over there, Az?” Paige asks, trying to swallow back the smile that is tempting to form on her face.

“Just get in the bag, Bueckers.”

Paige obliges and Azzi follows, doing the same. Azzi lies facing the opposite direction of Paige, their backs grazing but not pressing against each other.

“Good night, Az.”

“Night, P.”

-

It’s silent outside, all animals have gone to bed, even the annoying hummingbirds that always seem to want to bother Azzi while she sleeps. Jon and Jose are fast asleep, as are Paige and Azzi’s parents. The stars still shine and they seem to be the only thing awake at this ungodly hour.

Oh, and Paige along with them.

She stirs in her sleeping bag, not wanting to move too much as to wake Azzi up, but unable to find a comfortable position.

Around two hours have passed, it’s probably a little past one in the morning and Paige has officially given up. Sitting up in her sleeping bag and pushing her pillow behind her, to the back of the tent, she breathes in loudly.

No movement from Azzi.

Paige clicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth, trying to be obnoxiously loud.

Still, Azzi sleeps silently.

Paige leans down to Azzi’s shoulder, blowing on the crevice between her neck and jaw, hoping the breath of air will jolt the curly head away.

Still, nothing.

Paige rolls her eyes and gives in, tapping Azzi on the shoulder and watching as her eyes flutter open, turning towards the blonde.

“What the fuck, Paige.” Azzi groans, rubbing her eyes open and sitting up, knowing she’s now gonna be unable to fall back asleep.

“I can’t sleep.” Paige explains, not making eye contact with Azzi and fidgeting with her fingers.

“Tough luck. Go on a walk or something.” Azzi complains, annoyed with Paige for taking away her precious sleep.

“Let’s go to the beach.” Paige blurts, watching as Azzi turns to her with an annoyed look.

“No way, Paige. My mom would kill me. It’s also, not sure if you’ve realized or not… but the middle of the god damn night.”

“C’mon Azzi, it won’t kill you. Let’s have some fun. It’s our last night together for a while.”

Azzi stirs in her position, contemplating if she’s actually going to agree to this or not. She knows she’s not gonna be getting back to sleep anytime soon, but it’s also basically the witching hour and though she won’t admit it to anyone, Azzi never really got over her fear of the dark.

Azzi knows Paige does have a point. She probably won’t see her until at least winter break, minimum, after this and she doesn’t really want them arguing about who gets to go back to sleep to be their parting memory.

“Alright, fine. But we’re coming back quickly and going so quietly that we won’t even wake up a fly.”

Paige nods, already agreeing in the silent part that Azzi wants her to oblige to and starts to stand up. She pushes her sandals over her feet and throws Azzi her flip flops from beside her hoodie.

The two girls tip toe out of bed, sneaking past their families and suddenly very grateful they chose to put their sleeping bags so close to the beach path. They start down the trail, not saying much until they’re excessively far away from the house and their families.

“What are you thinking about?” Azzi ponders aloud, reading through Paige easily. She’s still whispering, though she’s not sure who she’s trying to stay quiet for.

“How do you know I’m thinking about something?” Paige challenges back.

“‘Cause it’s the only time you can’t sleep. Otherwise you’d be keeping me awake with your snoring.”

“I do not snore!”

“Oh, yes you most certainly do.” Azzi giggles, recalling the annoying, yet somehow fond, memories of Paige keeping her awake and forcing her to go sleep in a different room with the soft sound of her snores.

“Whatever. I wasn't thinking about anything. Just couldn't sleep, ‘dunno why.”

“Liar. But I'm not pushing because I’m still barely awake.”

At this point, the girls are walking on the beach, sand curling between their toes as Paige directs them forwards towards the ocean rather than turning so they can walk further in the sand.

“Paige Madison, we are not swimming in this lake right now.” Azzi looks over to Paige, abandoning her whispers and talking, more like scolding, at a normal level.

“C’mon princess, lighten up a little bit. We used to do it all the time.”

“Swim at night?” Paige nods. “Uh huh. Usually while the time has a PM after it, though.” Azzi fights back stubbornly, still not wanting to allow herself to give in.

“Neither of us even have suits on.”

Paige plasters a knowing look on her face and Azzi immediately allows her lips to draw a face of fear. “No way. I’m not going skinny dipping right now. This has not gone well in any horror movie and I don't want a true crime documentary made after us.”

“Alright, well I’m getting in. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Paige pauses as her and Azzi get further and further onto the dock. “But, please don’t make me swim by myself.”

Paige pouts, jutting out her bottom lip and tilting her head slightly at Azzi. Even in the dark, dimly lit sky, Azzi can see the sparkle in her bright blue eyes and can feel herself giving in bit by bit.

Azzi sighs, dropping her shoulders in silent agreement and beginning to strip her clothes. She watches as Paige rids herself of her clothes first. First her basketball shorts, then her sports bra, and finally her boxers. Azzi watches with intent, sucked into the vortex that is Paige Bueckers.

Azzi follows in the undressing task, going slowly while Paige climbs down the ladder and into the water that’s only gotten warmer along with the summer air. Azzi strips herself of her athletic shorts and underwear, then her maroon hoodie, and finally her teal bra.

Paige has to stop herself from letting her jaw drop as she watches Azzi unclasp the bright colored bra. It pairs so well with her dark, tanned skin, and Paige can’t help but find herself glad Azzi can’t see her expression.

Once Paige is off the ladder and Azzi is bare, the brunette starts her own descent down the ladder, climbing down slowly, inadvertently teasing an already flustered Paige.

Azzi suddenly has a realization that she should have had before she agreed to get into the water, or when she undressed, or even before she submerged herself in the deep water.

She can’t stand here. Her feet touch the sandy ocean floor and the water sucks in her mouth and nose along with it, her eyes and forehead barely protruding through the water’s surface.

“I can’t stand, Paige.” Azzi groans as she swims her body back to the ladder, beginning to tread water along the way. “I’m getting out. We’re going back.”

“No way, we just got here. I’m not walking half a mile back after not even being in here for a minute.”

“Alright, well that’s great for you, but I’m not treading water for half an hour, so you can walk back on your own.” Azzi’s already begun to start climbing back up the ladder when Paige blurts it out.

“Just c’mere.”

Azzi turns around while on the ladder, half of her body freezing in the cool air and the other half still covered by the water. “Excuse me?”

“Swim over here. I’ll hold you.”

A look of bewilderment and disbelief is painted on Azzi’s face because… what?

“Are you crazy? I don’t have a bathing suit on, Paige! That’s weird, even for us.” Azzi adds the last part, knowing that even for a decade-long friendship, that’s a bit much.

“How long have we known each other Az? Ten years. It’s nothing I haven't seen before. I promise. Just let me have a good last swim here. Preferably not alone.”

Azzi’s never been able to say no to her. Never in their ten years has she ever learned how to not give in to Paige, how to look away from her warm eyes and decline whatever ridiculous thing she wants from her.

Azzi, sighing once more, climbing back down the ladder and swimming over to Paige, her curly bun fallen down her back, hair tie sunk underneath the water, never to be seen again.

Azzi wraps her arms around Paige’s shoulders, her fingers intertwining at the nape of Paige’s neck, bumping the bottom of her low, messy bun.

Paige brushes the bare skin of Azzi’s thigh, wrapping one leg around her waist, Azzi bringing the other to match by herself.

They both know this is weird. They both know this isn’t something friends do. But neither of them are moving. And neither of them seem to be disgusted with the other.

Paige tries to ignore the fact that she can feel Azzi’s clit against the skin below her navel.

Paige tries to ignore the fact that she can feel Azzi’s nipples, hardened from the cool air, palming her own chest.

Paige tries to keep her eyes locked on Azzi’s, and Azzi tries to do the same, but both girls are failing miserably, their eye contact growing weighted and heavy.

They just stand there for a few minutes, Azzi wrapped around Paige with care and Paige holding her up with ease. They both study the night sky, the stars rendering a beautiful picture above their heads.

It seems impossible, but the girls seemed to have grown closer than before Paige first picked up Azzi. Azzi seems to be more pressed into Paige’s stomach, and Paige’s hands have seemed to travel closer to Azzi’s ass from their former placement on her thighs.

Azzi meets Paige’s eyes, this time firmly locked on hers, and they both just stare. They have the same expression mirrored on either side of each other, salacious and hungry, yet also fearful. Both girls seem to shake a little with each breath before Paige finally speaks.

At a whisper so low that Azzi can barely make out the words, Paige breathes out, “Can I kiss you?”

Azzi just looks deeper into Paige’s eyes, trying to stop herself from letting her eyes flicker down to Paige’s lips. But she can’t.

Like she physically can’t.

So she leans in, pulling Paige’s head closer to her with the hand around her neck, and slots their lips together. Paige tastes faintly of salt and vanilla, probably from the chapstick she’s always applying and Azzi can’t get enough of it.

Azzi kisses her like she’s starved and Paige kisses her back just the same. They breathe into each other, chests pressing further and further into each other as they do so, voracious and needy.

Their senses are heightened from their bare states, no skin of Azzi’s left untouched as Paige’s hands begin to wander around Azzi’s shaky body.

The two girls only pull away occasionally to catch their breaths, like they can’t take a second away from each other’s lips.

Paige is infatuated with the way Azzi tastes: better than she ever could have imagined.

Paige slips her left hand out from under Azzi’s thigh, catching the little drop with her right forearm, which is now laid out under Azzi’s ass.

Paige’s left hand slides up between their chests, palming one of Azzi’s breasts, earning her a quiet whimper from the curly head. Its noise is swallowed by Paige’s mouth, but all that does is urge Paige on more.

Her hand continues to graze across Azzi’s body, pinching her nipples, and Paige grows more and more hungry with each soft moan from Azzi’s mouth. Paige is in utter disbelief with how pretty Azzi sounds and she can’t imagine she’s gone so long without being serenaded by its sound.

Paige’s kisses begin to trail down Azzi’s jaw and quickly find her neck, Azzi mindlessly tilting her head so Paige has more area to work. Paige’s tongue touches every inch of Azzi’s neck, trying to find the places to suck on that make Azzi go mad, and trying to memorize them for later.

Without even realizing she’s doing it, Azzi begins to slightly push herself onto Paige’s stomach, trying to give herself some relief against the ridges of Paige’s abs.

Paige quickly realizes what Azzi is doing and is grateful to see that she seems just as needy as Paige is right now.

At the same time Paige finds a particularly sensitive spot towards Azzi’s collarbone, Azzi catches her clit on just the right part of Paige’s stomach and she lets out a loud moan as Paige sucks the skin and lets it go with a ‘pop’.

“Do you need me, Azzi?” Paige whispers against Azzi’s neck.

Azzi nods promptly, forgetting about embarrassing herself and being consumed by the need pulsing inside her.

Azzi feels Paige smirk against her neck as she kisses back up from her neck to her lips and continues to play with her chest.

Paige positions her right arm, the one that’s balancing and holding Azzi up, so that she can reach where Azzi needs her the most.

Paige wastes no time, beginning to draw slow, tantalizing circles over Azzi’s clit, and Azzi begins to melt like putty into Paige’s hands. She can’t silence the pathetic noises that are coming out of her mouth and she can’t help her want for more.

She presses herself further down into the pads of Paige’s fingers, wanting, scratch that, needing more pressure from the blonde.

“Fuck Paige-” Azzi murmurs out, her words coming out jumbled and broken up, Paige removing her ability to form coherent words.

Paige shifts her hand down from Azzi’s clit to the bottom of her lips, her finger splitting them open and taking a dive into the wetness.

Azzi’s slick mixes with the lake water around them and while water surrounds them, Paige knows the slick her fingers are feeling is not that kind of wetness.

“Holy shit-” Paige murmurs, in disbelief with Azzi and herself for how wet she is. “You this soaked or is it the lake?” Paige asks, though she already knows the answer.

“Jesus-” Azzi whimpers out, unable to breathe properly. “It’s for you, P.” Azzi admits, squirming under Paige’s touch, desperate for any kind of contact from the blonde.

“For me, huh?” Paige gloats, never missing a chance to feed her own ego. Paige traces her finger around Azzi’s wetness, gathering it with her fingers and dragging it along her center.

Azzi twitches as Paige drags the slick up to her clit and presses deep on either side of the sensitive bud. “Paige… fuck- just-” Azzi tries, she really tries to get her words out, but she chokes on her own moans and can’t take the throbbing much longer.

“What do you need, princess?” Paige taunts, her movements getting slower and softer, her kisses still peppering down Azzi’s neck.

“You.” Azzi manages, chasing Paige’s fingers as they move slowly, trying to press herself down harshly.

“You already have me.” Paige smiles against Azzi’s skin, knowing that’s not what she meant.

Before Azzi can open her mouth to clarify more or to protest, Paige shoves her fingers inside Azzi’s center, pumping them in and out slowly to start, but gaining more urgency as she goes for longer.

The harsher she presses down, the louder Azzi is for her, and Paige has never been so turned on in her life. Azzi is a jumbled mess. The only words she can get out are broken swears and “please”, though she doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.

“Paige-” Azzi pleads out, grinding down on Paige’s fingers as she strives for the release she’s hungry for. “My god.”

“Say my name again, Az. Say it again for me.” Paige asks, though she’s not really asking, more so demanding.

Azzi obliges and lets out another string of curses as well as a moan that Paige makes out to have her name written underneath the breathy sounds.

“You’re-” Azzi pauses to swallow and tries to breathe. “Fuck, you feel so good, P.” At this point, Azzi’s nearly blacked out. She barely knows what she’s saying, just mumbling out whatever comes to her brain and letting herself be handled by Paige.

“You’re doing so good, Azzi. So good for me.” Paige whispers into Azzi’s ear, the sensual tone making Azzi more needy and starved for Paige’s touch.

A few more minutes pass, and Azzi can’t stay like this forever. Her movements have become completely broken up and she’s a mess. Her hair is flipped over to one side, and Paige is still moving with the same urgency.

Her head is thrown back and Paige is still attacking her neck, leaving marks she’s sure will still be there in the morning.

“I can’t… last much longer, P.” Azzi groans out, her words so broken that Paige can barely understand what she’s trying to say.

“It’s okay, Az. Let go for me. Let me feel you.” Paige slows her words at the last part, trying to make herself sound more sensual and less nervous than she really is.

With that, Azzi taps out, leaning into Paige as she collapses, Paige’s movements not slowing until Azzi’s fully come down.

Even under the water, Paige can feel the shaking of Azzi’s legs, and with Azzi leaning right into her ear, the pretty sounds she’s making are louder than ever.

Paige feels herself growing wetter with every moan from Azzi and every whisper of her name.

“Oh my god… fuck-” Azzi moans out with her climax, too spent to be ashamed of how loud she is at this point.

Paige works her through it, her fingers still pumping, harder than ever, as Azzi continues to shake and press into her shoulder.

Eventually, Paige’s movements slow and she slowly pulls her fingers out of Azzi. Her hands return to their previous position on either side of Azzi’s thighs, a much more stable way to hold her, as she leans in for a kiss to her lips.

This time it’s slower, less rushed. Less hungry and needy. But there’s still a hint of that underneath: Paige now desperate for a relief of her own.

They kiss slowly for a few moments, Azzi catching her breath against Paige’s lips and readjusting to the silence she created with the halt of her whimpers.

After a while of their chaste kisses, they heat back up again, this time Azzi initiating the harshness of it all. She starts to explore Paige’s mouth like it’s a piece of art she’s trying to memorize and store for later, and Paige just lets it happen.

She lets Azzi control what’s happening, hoping if she lets this happen, she’ll get the same release Azzi did.

But Azzi’s not as quick moving as Paige, she likes to take her time getting to know Paige deeper. Her lips tattoo the skin of Paige’s neck and chest and Paige groans, partially out of pleasure, and partially out of frustration with Azzi’s pace.

Not being able to take it anymore, Paige tightly grips Azzi’s hand from behind her neck and slides it down her stomach. Azzi traces Paige’s abs along the way before she gets down to Paige’s wetness, and even then, she goes painfully slow.

She immediately inserts a finger inside Paige, but the one isn’t enough, and she’s going so slow that Paige barely feels anything except a little pressure.

“You’re killing me, Az.” Paige complains, though the whimper at the end of her sentence tells Azzi that annoyance isn’t the only thing in her tone. “You’ve gotta let me feel good.” Paige pleads.

“But I am making you feel good.” Azzi whispers innocently, tilting her head with a bit of a mischievous grin. “Patience, P.”

Patience is something Paige has never had, and now is definitely not the time she’s going to acquire it. She takes a hand out from under Azzi and reaches it down to her own clit, circling it with urgency and finally getting some relief: the kind Azzi’s refusing her of.

Azzi quickly notices and pushes Paige’s hand away, much to Paige’s chagrin. “That bad, really?” Azzi teases. “Fine.”

Azzi shrugs before pounding three of her fingers into Paige, the inside of her wrist palming Paige’s clit as she does so.

Paige is so worked up that she barely lasts two minutes of this, her body surrendering to Azzi quickly.

“Fuck.. Azzi…” Azzi cuts Paige’s babble off with a kiss. She can already tell Paige is about to unravel for her.

Azzi swallows the moans that pour out of Paige’s mouth, smiling as she does so. She finally slows her fingers when Paige seems to stop her shaking and calm down slightly.

Azzi can’t believe Paige managed to hold both of them up while doing that, and she sits back for a moment before realizing that she can’t believe what just happened as a whole.

As Paige finally comes back to Earth, she seems to have the same realization as Azzi. Both of them looking at each other with concerned looks on their faces.

“I- I’m sorry.” Paige is the first to speak. “I wasn’t trying to… do this when I woke you up. I promise.” Azzi can tell the statement is genuine, and she knows Paige too well to think that’s something she would do.

“Don’t apologize.” Azzi breathes out, Paige sighing a sigh of relief at her response.

It’s silent again, Paige still holding them up as they look into each other’s eyes, trying to get a sense of what just happened.

“Did that mean something, P?” Azzi questions, asking what she knew Paige was wondering too.

Paige sucks in a deep breath of the cool air before answering with a look of sincerity. “Yeah. I ’dunno, Azzi. I’ve been tryna’ read you all summer.”

“I love you.” Azzi blurts out and though the girls have been saying that for years, it carries a different weight now. And Paige knows that. She can tell in the way Azzi refuses to meet her gaze after she says it.

Paige pulls Azzi into another slow kiss, this one pure and wholesome in a way their others weren’t. “I lov-” Paige starts but Azzi quickly interrupts.

“I knew. I know.”

A beat of playful silence waves over the two girls. Paige joking rolls her eyes, accompanied with a large smile as she lets go of Azzi and swims closer to the ladder slowly. Azzi peels herself away from Paige's hips and follows behind, both of their legs sore, lips swollen, and necks bruised with kisses.

After Paige and Azzi have dried themselves off as best as they could without towels, Paige circles back. “You knew? And you made me wait all summer for you to say something?”

Azzi grins a little while nodding, chuckling at herself as she does so.

“You are so fucking infuriating.” Paige crosses her arms jokingly.

“Am I? Do you remember the lake about three minutes ago or?”

“Oh, I could say the exact same for you, Azzi.” Paige challenges back.

Paige stumbles over something rough at her feet, a pile of towels someone had left on the beach from the day prior. She leans down to pick two of them up and hands one to the girl beside her.

Ignoring their theft, they wrap their bodies in the stolen towels and Paige reaches down to grab Azzi’s hand.

They walk back to their families and sleeping bags with wide grins and fingers intertwined, the moon smiling down at them as they walk.

Long time coming.

[ssapphosviolets]

Acts of Service

Sevika x gf!reader

Inspired by part of my recent work:

Sevika's job is cruel and grueling, but providing small acts of service makes her feel like a normal person at the end of the day. It's a reminder to herself that she's a lover, that she hasn't lost her way of caring, that she is more than her job. If it was up to her, her girlfriend wouldn't ever have to lift a finger again.

or; Sevika's acts of service

(lowk adhd coded reader bc samesies)

.oOo.

Sevika sighs when she steps foot into her and her partners shared closet, or should she say stepped foot onto her partners clothes. She sighs; not out of annoyance or frustration, maybe a little out of inconvenience, but she's unable to feel any real malice behind it. She's always known, even before moving in together, how forgetful and messy her partner could be.

Messy isn't Sevika's choice of words though. Her girlfriend certainly isn't dirty or slobbish. She just has a tendency to become very easily distracted, often leaving traces of her forgetfulness behind as her brain had already moved on to its next task. Maybe disorganized was a better word. But that didn't seem right either. It's not the first time Sevika has failed to capture her partner in words though.

It's not uncommon that there's forgotten clothes left behind as her girlfriend rushed to get ready for work earlier that morning. Or that there's jackets and sweaters left on the couch and the backs of chairs that had been forgotten about. Or that only Sevika's side of the bathroom sink has more than an inch of visible counter space. Or that there's a pile of laundry sitting on top of the dryer that her partner swore she would put away "tomorrow".

Sevika loves this about her partner. While at first her girlfriend was shameful of this forgetfulness, always profusely apologizing at the realization of her mess, Sevika had done more than enough to reassure her that she really doesn't mind. Sometimes to this day her partner does feel apologetic, but it's no longer from guilt or anxiety, it's more so out of frustration with herself.

Sevika appreciates that it gives her an easy service to do. For most people, coming home from work to almost tripping over a small pile of clothes would be enough to set them off. When Sevika comes home from a long day to a pile of clothes, she uses this task to allow herself a release from that hard and rough front she puts on all day at her job. It took 10 seconds to put away her girlfriend's clothes, and 10 seconds to be reminded of who she really is. She's still a human who has the ability to do no harm. Who is not only capable of loving, but also of being loved.

This mess is an indicator of her and her girlfriend's safety. She's safe, in their own home, where expectations and pressures are non-existent. Her girlfriend is safe, even feels safe enough to leave a mess in the first place. The ability to let yourself be messy around someone is something only a deep trust can bring about.

Sevika turns those 10 seconds into 30 as she chooses to fold up one of her own shirts, placing it on top of her girlfriend's side for when she gets home from work.

.oOo.

While her partner may be forgetful, Sevika always remembered. She never minded having to remember for the both of them. Though sometimes the questions of "Do you know where-?" can get quite repetitive, Sevika knows it's only asked because her girlfriend knows she has it handled. Sevika takes great pride in the underlying confidence and trust that her girlfriend has in her to take care of things.

"Do you know where my lighter is?" Sevika looks up from her place on the couch, where her eyes were buried in a book. "You have probably 10 around the house, babe. Which one?" She easily averts all of her attention towards her partner, not minding the interruption one bit. Not from her, at least.

"I don't know, just any of them?" She hears the opening and closing of drawers as she searches. Sevika sighs and shifts, her hand grasping onto the circular clipper lighter, and she gets a quick flash of pink and grey in between her fingers as she pulls it out. It's one of her girlfriend's lighters, to be exact.

"Here, Hun." She holds the lighter above her head so the girl can see it from behind the couch. She hears the immediate footsteps on the creaking wood of their living room, until the lighter is gleefully snatched from Sevika's fingers. Her partner leans over the back of the couch, pressing a kiss to the top of Sevika's head. Sevika's own hand snakes around to hold the back of her girlfriend's neck, and she tilts her head up to capture her lips before she has a chance to pull away.

"I want that one back though, it's always my backup for when you lose your other nine." Sevika teases, nothing but adoration showing through not only her eyes but her tone as well. She can't hide the smile that graces her dark tinted lips when she sees how flustered the girl gets.

.oOo.

Sevika has a love-hate relationships with mornings. She loves the quiet moments she spends with her girlfriend as they get ready together, but hates when they inevitably have to part ways for the day. So she cherishes every second of their quiet mornings.

She finally rolls out of bed when the bathroom light has remained on for a couple minutes too long, sleepily trudging through their shared bedroom to reach the light. She's met with her favorite sight: her girlfriend leaned over the sink as she does her makeup for the day.

Sevika was never one for makeup, but there was something so attractive to her about watching a partner do it. Maybe it was because she loves the femininity of it, or maybe it was the intimacy of being allowed to share such an important part of a daily routine with someone. She's too tired to really consider the "why's" at the moment.

She takes a step towards her girlfriend and presses her own front to her back, her arms wrapping around the girls waist. Sevika watches in the mirror as her girlfriend's smile grows. "Morning, Vika." Her partner mumbles tiredly, adoringly. "Morning, hun." Sevika responds in a similar tone.

She stays where she is as she watches her girlfriend brush on her mascara, before deciding she should stop being a lovesick little puppy and actually help out a bit. She pulls back only slightly, just enough to reach for the necklace laying down on the counter beside her. The necklace her girlfriend has had for years, that one piece of staple jewelry that she is never seen without.

Sevika wordlessly wraps it around her girlfriend's front, and carefully clasps it around her neck. Her girlfriend had moved on to her lipstick by the time the chain and charm rested firmly against her chest. Sevika grabs her rings next, and once she's sure her girlfriend can finish her task with a single hand, she softly grabs the other in her own.

She slides on each of the rings, knowing the exact placement of each one. She intertwines her fingers as the last ring is in place, and repeats the same process on her other hand as soon as the lipstick is set back down on the counter. Not a single word has to be spoken, but when they lock eyes in the bathroom mirror, a silent appreciation is made known.

[undyingdecay]

OKAY!! hear me out. reader x john walker where they’ve talked beforehand about reader getting pregnant and them having a baby. but!! kinda CNC i guess where reader is like “no! you have to pull out!!” and john is like “you feel too fucking good, i’m so sorry” 🫠 but obviously it’s fine. sorry for the brain rot and word vomit

(banging on the bars of my enclosure i WANT HIMM)

you and john, of course, had spoken about starting to settle down. it wasn’t some picture-perfect conversation over candlelight or at the foot of a bed tangled up in satin sheets. no — it was late at night, one too many beers deep, both of you bone-tired from the world and sick of it kicking the shit out of you. some movie was playing low in the background, something old and dumb that john grumbled through the whole way, and you’d said something offhand about being a good wife.

and he went quiet after that.

not in the stiff, pissed-off kind of way he sometimes got when he couldn’t say what he meant, but in that soft, heavy way — the one where he’d let a big, warm hand slide over your thigh and just hold it, thumb moving in slow circles like he was trying to memorize the shape of you.

after that, it was inevitable.

you were looking at rings.

then finally buying a house — nothing fancy, just good bones and a yard big enough for the dog he swore up and down he didn’t want.

a little german shepherd pup that pissed on the floor and chewed his boots.

“too much goddamn work,” john grumbled. “i’m not taking care of some mutt.”

and yet two weeks later, you came home to find them curled up together on the couch, the pup dozing against his broad chest, john’s hand absently scratching behind her ear like it was the most natural thing in the world. you didn’t even bother teasing him about it. just smiled, pressed a kiss to his temple, and the next morning you quietly tossed your birth control in the trash like it’d never existed.

you’d both wanted this. maybe too much.

ready to live out those stupid little daydreams you used to laugh at, pretending it could never be you. a house. a dog. maybe a baby if life didn’t spit in your face first.

but john was a hardass.

and you were stubborn.

so even after all the talks, even knowing you were both aching for it, there was still this push and pull between you. a give-me-take-it, say-no-make-me game that neither of you ever really meant but both of you loved to play.

and that night, it was thick in the air.

the way he had you on your back, legs trembling against his waist, his cock driving into you hard enough to rock the bed against the wall.

the thick, heady smell of sweat, sex, and that faint ghost of his cologne still clinging to his throat, the way his dog tags slapped against his chest with every rough thrust.

it slipped out before you could think.

“john — no, you have to pull out. you promised.”

and the minute you said it, you knew.

knew from the rough sound that tore out of his throat, from the way his hips stuttered for just a second before grinding deeper, harder, like he was trying to climb inside you.

“too fucking good—you’re so fucking wet, you want this so bad—fuck—don’t you?,” he groaned, voice cracking with it, low and desperate. “can’t. can’t stop now.”

you tried to wriggle, nails digging into his broad, sweat-slicked shoulders, some weak little protest about how you weren’t ready. about how this wasn’t what you agred to.

but your cunt betrayed you — clenching down, wet and eager, the thick slide of him dragging against every oversensitive nerve ending you had. and you hated how much you loved it.

“i’m sorry,” he groaned into your neck, and he wasn’t. not even a little bit.

his grip on your hips tightened, fingers leaving bruises he’d smirk at later.

“told you we’d start trying soon, didn’t i? i meant it.”

you felt his cock twitch inside you, that telltale pulse, and you were done for. the heat, the stretch, the desperate, filthy promise in his voice sending you right to the edge.

and when he finally came, it was a guttural, broken sound — hips jerking, cock spilling hot and thick inside you, enough to spill out around him in slick, messy drips.

he stayed buried to the hilt, grinding those last few lazy thrusts into you, unwilling to let any of it go to waste.

the room was heavy after that.

nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, the faint hum of the ceiling fan above.

his big hand brushed through your hair, cradling the side of your face as he leaned down and kissed the corner of your mouth.

“guess we’ll see what happens now,” he murmured, voice soft and smug, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

and you knew then — there wasn’t any going back.

you didn’t want to, either.

[wosospacegirl]

Stuck with you - part 9

Summary: Y/n’s used to Alexia’s overprotectiveness and the pressure of her career—but Kika? The shy, socially awkward teammate who’s starting to make her feel things she didn’t expect.

Warnings: y/n's sulking, Kika disappeared from training, Alexia's noisy, and Vicky's really bad at signalling with her hands.

Word count: 4.8k

a/n: Sorry it took so long to update. The last few weeks were hard, but not harder than Y/n and Kika's relationship, so let's go.

..

Y/n woke up the next day.. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, and for exactly thirteen seconds, she didn't remember what had happened the other day with Kika.

It was the best 13 seconds of her life.

She went down to have breakfast, but god forbid they had a normal, casual breakfast in the Putellas household;

Y/n was stabbing eggs, a frown on her face, remembering Kika's words over and over again.

Across the table, Olga and Alexia were staring at her, not saying anything, just staring pitifully at her.

She hated it, of course. It mmade her feel vulnerable, and it wasn't even 7 am yet.

"What?" she snapped, glaring up from her plate. "Why are you both looking at me like that?"

Olga reached over to squeeze her hand gently. "Cariño, please. Just tell us what happened."

"Nothing happened," Y/n said, pulling her hand back and grabbing her juice, as if the glass could shield her away from Olga's interrogation.

"Eso no es justo," Alexia huffed, taking a bite out of an apple.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "What's not fair?"

Alexia leaned forward, her mouth full. "We always tell you about our relationship, when we argue…when we make amends, it's just fair that you do the same with us and tell us what happened at the book club!"

Y/n lifted her eyebrow. Alexia was never this much interested in her personal life in general, she would only ever intrude in Y/n's business if it was impacting her physically; normally, she would just leave the emotional part for Olga to deal with.

So for her to almost beg to know what happened between Y/n and Kika only meant one thing: it was eating her alive. Curiosity got the best of Alexia Putellas.

"You lie! You guys never tell me anything," Y/n said, waving her fork at them. "You two are, like… weirdly secretive… You went on a date last week and didn't even tell me! I was worried that someone had kidnapped the two of you for money!"

"Okay, now you are being dramatic," Alexia said. "We didn't tell you because we just didn't think it would be a big deal, not because we wanted to keep it a secret."

"I called the police," Y/n said flatly.

"I know," Alexia replied stoically. "I remember the police lights."

"Forget the police," Olga said, waving her hand. "That does not make us secretive, we just had a… communication lapse."

"I still don't know when your anniversary is!" Y/n said. "And I've been living with you two before you got engaged, don't you think that's a bit weird?"

Alexia rolled her eyes. "Our anniversary is on October 31st."

Y/n tilted her head, confusion on her face. "Halloween? Who asks somebody to marry them on Halloween?"

"Alexia does," Olga murmured, spreading butter on her bread. "Ever the romantic."

"Oh, come on, Olga," Alexia turned to her wife, a slight pout on her face. "You said yes!"

Olga ignored Alexia, turning her attention back to Y/n, her voice soft. "Nena, we're just worried. You've been off since yesterday."

"It looks like you're more nosy than actually worried," Y/n said, deadpan.

"Well… maybe a little," Olga admitted, shrugging. "But can you blame us? You haven't dated anyone since Laura, and that didn't end up well. We just wanna make sure you don't get hurt again."

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I haven't dated anyone and I'm not even close to that with Kika, so you don't need to–" she made quotation marks with her fingers, "–worry about me."

"Well, I would say you two are almost dating," Olga corrected, holding up a finger. "She came to have dinner here a few months ago, you guys talked, you bought her books, you two went on a date, that's practically dating."

"We're not dating," Y/n said firmly. She really couldn't keep having this conversation, not when she knew Kika had no interest in her. "Nothing happened yesterday. And I don't want to talk about it."

Olga opened her mouth, probably to push again, but Alexia beat her to it; her arms were crossed, her eyes narrowed in that same determined way Y/n had come to know.

"I'm going to find out," her captain said. "Even if you don't tell me… I'll get Kika to spill it, she's too nice not to."

"I think that's some sort of abuse of power," Y/n groaned, letting her head fall down against the table.

"It might be… it might not," Alexia said, chin up. "Who would know?"

"I need new guardians," Y/n murmured.

"Oh, come on, you love us," Olga said cheerfully. "Plus, we're kind of the only ones you got, so…"

"That's comforting," Y/n said, eyes back to her plate. She had barely eaten anything.

She thought about threatening Alexia: if she tried to pry information about the date with Kika, Y/n would never speak to her again. 

But deep down, Y/n knew it wouldn’t matter.

When Alexia wanted to know something, she would go to hell to find it. God forbid La reina not know something about her teammates, or else, about her kind-of-adopted-sister…?

…

Monday

The next day, Y/n noticed Kika wasn't at training.

At first, she felt a wave of sadness, which she guessed was how her body physiologically reacted to the absence of Kika, but then her conscious mind reminded her of everything that had happened at the book club, and then she convinced herself that Kika being gone for the day was probably for the best.

Her ego was still too bruised to face Kika right now. If she was being honest, she didn't know when she would feel ready to see Kika again. It would be too much of a reminder that she wasn't wanted in the way she envisioned herself to be.

The whole "I've only invited you so you wouldn't feel alone" hit her deep in her chest, hurting her in a way she didn't allow Kika to.

That's why she didn't let people get too close. It hurt.

Vicky and Salma, blissfully unaware of the tension, cornered Y/n in the locker room after practice once everyone else had already made their way to the pitch.

"So…" Vicky wiggled her eyebrows playfully. "Tell us everything. Did you hold hands?"

"Did you kiss?" Salma asked, way too casually for Y/n's liking, as if it was her right to know what happened.

Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to wriggle out of the circle they had her in.

She wasn't in the mood to entertain their teasing or to remember everything once again. Olga and Alexia were annoying enough at home, she didn't need that at training as well.

"Just… not now, girls," Y/n said in a low voice.

The tone in her voice surprised even her. It was soft, not the usual grumpy way she had grown accustomed to. It wasn't a bark. She was tired… sad. She wished people around her would understand that and just leave her be.

Vicky and Salma exchanged a knowing glance before the realisation hit them. They had stepped over a boundary. 

"Oh," Vicky said, tone shifting as she caught on. "Uhn, maybe it didn't go well, then…"

Y/n didn't answer; she just got her boots and left for the pitch. The ball wasn't going to ask her to make a podcast about her failed date.

The rest of the day, Y/n didn't see Kika. Although when she was on her way to the bathroom, she heard a conversation between Esmee and Alexia. She didn't stop to listen or anything, it just happened that the laces to her boots untied at the same time.

She bent down and listened through the corner of the wall.

"She's not coming?" Alexia asked. Y/n could picture her face, mouth slightly open, eyebrows raised. "I heard Romeu saying something like that, but when I asked, he told me he couldn't say… Is it private?"

"Yeah," Esmee told her, in a voice that sounded like she didn't want to have this conversation. "She's not feeling good."

"What's wrong with her?" Alexia asked.

"Uhm, well–"

"Is it the flu? I can take her to the hospital if she wants, Olga can make some soup and bring it to her house or–"

"No, it's not the flu," Esmee replied. "She's just not feeling well… emotionally."

"Oh," Alexia said in a knowing tone. "Do you know if it’s because of what happened in the park? I'm not sure if Kika told you about that?”

Oh, for god's sake. Alexia was going out of her way to find out about her date. 

She was even interrogating poor Esmee, who had no idea of what happe–

"Yes."

Yes?

"I don't know much about it," Esmee continued. "She just told me she messed something up and that she wanted to give Y/n some space."

Y/n must have gasped, because Alexia’s face appeared around the corner immediately, uncovering Y/n's hiding spot.

"Y/n?" Alexia said, eyes squinting. "What are you doing on the floor?"

Y/n froze, but her brain tried to come up with something, anything, that wouldn’t make her seem like an idiot.

"Hm, just tying my boots," she said. "So I don't fall and… hurt my face, you know?"

Alexia didn't answer. Instead, she turned around and said goodbye to Esmee, who had a confused expression on her face, but also didn't say anything. Then she helped Y/n off the floor. 

The two walked to the locker room in silence. Alexia opened the door, checking that they were alone, before she made Y/n sit on one of the benches.

Y/n rolled her eyes. 

Not the bench talk again.

"What happened?" Alexia asked seriously, her arms crossed tight on her torso. "And what did Esmee mean about Kika wanting to give you space? Did you two fight? Can you fight in a book club?"

Y/n dragged her hands down her face. "Alexia, if you keep pressing on this, I swear to god, the vein in my head is gonna burst."

Alexia leaned over, touching Y/n's forehead. "It does look a little weird. You should check it out."

Y/n pushed Alexia's hand from her face as she got up from the bench, walking to her cubby. "Just… let me deal with this."

They didn't share a word as they left the training centre, but Alexia kept sighing, as if it was oh so inconvenient that Y/n hadn't shared what happened with her.

Y/n ignored her, as always. 

She spent the drive home thinking about Esmee and how she knew about the park, about her and Kika's date–how Kika had told her.

Had Kika told her everything? Had Kika told Esmee what she told Y/n? About the whole wanting to hang out with her because she didn't want Y/n to be left out?

Probably not, Kika wouldn't do that. 

She wouldn't disclose it, right? It was a rather…private thing to talk about, no?

Perhaps Kika only told her vaguely that they went on a date and it didn't work out.

Y/n hoped so, at least.

..

Tuesday 

It was lunchtime. And once again, no sign of Kika.

Esmee, Jana, Vicky, Salma, Sydney and Y/n sat together at the table. The conversation was flowing nicely, but Y/n was quiet, just sharing bits here and there, but not really engaging in any topic.

"And then she said I should be the one to text first," Jana said, her voice filled with frustration. "Which is ridiculous, right? Why would I reach out first after the date if I was the one who invited her?"

"Yes, you're right!" Salma agreed.

"It just seems like she's always waiting for you to do something,” Vicky chimed in, her mouth full of food.

Jana was talking about one of the girls she was going on dates with, but Y/n didn't remember which one it was this time.

The only thing on her mind was a certain Portuguese girl, and how she didn't want anything to do with her.

She had truly believed Kika wanted to spend time with her–wanted to be around her because they clicked. At least Y/n thought they clicked. Obviously, Kika didn't think the same.

That date's only purpose was to remind Y/n why she kept her feelings at arm's length. They hurt. They always hurt. It was so much safer to have nothing, to shut it all out, than to open yourself up and risk being disappointed.

Her spiralling thoughts were snapped away as she felt a hand on her wrist.

"You're gripping the knife too tightly," Esmee said quietly. "Your hand is all red… messing with your circulation."

Y/n blinked, looking down at her hand, realising she really was unconsciously gripping the knife too tightly.

"Oh," she mumbled, "Didn't notice it." She released her grip, holding it properly now.

Vicky leaned forward, pushing her plate out of the way. She rested her elbows on the table.

"Okay," she said, looking at Y/n, "You seriously need to tell us what happened at the park. You've been sulking ever since! We've been giving you space, but… You can't hold it all in."

Y/n flinched at the word. 

Sulking.

It was a pathetic word. She felt pathetic.

"I'm not holding anything in," Y/n told them, eyes on everyone at the table. "This is just who I am, I don't like to talk about feelings."

"But you need to!" Vicky rolled her eyes. "We've had this conversation a dozen times already."

"You know people get sick, right?" Salma chimed in. "Like with real diseases because of suppressed emotions?"

Now it was Y/n's turn to roll her eyes. 

"Suppressed emotions? Please! You guys are talking like I have some sort of PTSD. I just went on a date that was clearly a disaster."

"But why was it a disaster?" Sydney asked. "Did Kika punch a dog or something? I can't really think of her doing something wrong or bad."

Y/n turned to Sydney, her eyebrows raised. "How do you even know what we're talking about? I haven't told you anything about Kika!"

"Vicky told me," she said casually. "Now, are you going to tell us or not? I have physio in like thirty minutes, I don't want to be left hanging."

Y/n ignored Sydney, just giving Vicky a very sharp glance. She really needed to stop sharing her secrets with Vicky. The girl couldn't keep her mouth shut for more than two seconds.

"Did she find out you didn't read the book and got mad?" Salma questioned, drinking her juice. "Because if that's what happened, then it's a very dumb reason."

"Yeah," Vicky agreed vehemently, as if she hadn't just told Y/n's secret crush to another teammate, "That's dyslexiphobia."

"That's not even a word!" Salma said, turning to her.

"And that–" Vicky said, arms crossed, "–is erasing somebody's identity, Salma. We should call it for what it is: dyslexiphobia."

Vicky said the last part aloud, so in a matter of seconds, every player turned to their table, faces filled with confusion as they heard the made-up word falling out of the young girl's mouth.

Y/n's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She looked angrily at Vicky."Can you shut up?!"

Vicky looked around her, realised she was the centre of attention. She looked down at her plate, hands up on her chest in surrender.

"Sorry! I just wanna know what happened!"

"Me too!" Salma said.

"Can you guys stop?" Jana said angrily, putting her fork down. "We should respect Y/n's decision to not say anything!"

Salma rolled her eyes. "Oh, that’s easy for you to say! You already know what happened, that's not fair to the rest of us who were left in the completely dark"

"Yes! I totally agreed," Vicky said, or maybe it was Sydney.

Y/n wasn't sure anymore, since the whole table continued to create assumptions about her date, and it got to a point where all of their voices blended into one another. All of that while they were eating.

Clearly, none of the Barcelona girls were gracious.

Y/n dragged her hands down her face, completely hopeless.

"Maybe Y/n tripped and fell in a very embarrassing way, and Kika got the ick?"

"What if Kika stood Y/n up?"

“Once a bird pooped on my head during a date, maybe the same happened with Y/n ans Kika and they just couldn’t recover.”

"Oh god, you three shut up!" Esmee said while scrolling on her phone. "None of this nonsense happened! Kika told Y/n she wanted to hang out with her because she felt bad and didn't want her to feel left out, that’s why Y/n is upset.”

It was like the entire table went quiet in sY/nc.

Forks paused mid-air. Sentences were left unfinished. Even the chatter of the other tables seemed to hush for a second too long.

Y/n sat frozen, like her brain was struggling to catch up with what Esmee had said.

Y/n knee, Esmee was aware of the date because she overheard that conversation yesterday… she just didn't expect Kika to talk about it in so much detail.

Kika had explained to Esmee how pitiful she felt for Y/n. So much that she called Y/n out on a date because of pure pity.

Great, everybody knew how pathetic she was.

"What did you just say, Esmee?" Salma asked sharply. "What the hell?"

Vicky straightened in her seat, caught between confusion and disbelief. "What did Kika say? Are you serious?”

"That's so bad…" Sydney said, incredulous.

Everybody but Esmee turned their eyes to Y/n, guilt and empathy in their eyes. It was the same kind of look you would give to someone who was absolutely helpless.

Y/n hated that she was that person now, that her friends saw her like that.

Y/n slowly turned her head to Esmee, who was now finally looking up from her phone, realising the weight of what she had just said.

"Esmee, did Kika really tell you that?" Y/n asked, her voice was low, but controlled, as if trying to hold every emotion in.

She still had hope that maybe Kika said that without meaning to. 

That maybe it was just the awkward way she had of expressing herself, but now that she found out that Kika had told Esmee…then it was probably a hundred per cent real.

That Kika really felt nothing, not even some sort of platonic feeling for Y/n.

Esmee's face went pale. Her fingers tensed around her phone. She looked at Y/n, then the others. "Oh. Um… okay," she stammered, "I guess I… probably shouldn't have said that."

Y/n groaned softly, pressing her palms to her face. "Oh god, I hate this whole fucking situation. Why did she even tell you?"

Esmee shrugged, a little defensive, a little unsure. "Hm… because I'm her friend? I guess? Look, I'm not trying to insert myself into whatever's going on between you two, alright? I just–ugh, sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

Y/n wasn't upset that Esmee knew. She was upset that anyone knew.

She hadn't even told Vicky or Salma what really happened in the park. Not really because it was a secret, but because it was hers.

Because it had been humiliating and vulnerable, and even if Kika hadn't meant to hurt her, she had… and now it felt like the whole thing was a story being passed around behind her back.

Like it wasn't hers anymore.

"Look–she really didn't mean it like that," Esmee said, voice gentle. "She just got nervous, and, honestly, I can't even explain it. Just… talk to her, okay?"

Y/n didn't respond.

She wasn't mad at Kika. Not really. She was just a little disappointed. Feeling like a line had been crossed, even though she hadn't asked Kika not to say anything.

In the end, she also told someone what happened. So in a way, they were even.

Y/n had told Jana. Kika had told Esmee.

The table stayed quiet for a while. An awkward and uncomfortable silence was thick in the air.

Then, Y/n began to eat again, pretending nothing had happened, not saying a word. The others followed her.

Across from her, she noticed how restless Vicky, Salma and Sydney looked, almost as if they were resonating with the urge to ask questions.

She could feel it in them. But every time one of them opened their mouth, Jana shot them a sharp look.

A silent ‘shut up. Not now.’

Y/N didn’t have it in her to speak, but she caught Jana’s eye and gave her the smallest, grateful smile.

Her friends were a little out of touch sometimes, but Y/n would’t change them for anything.

..

Wednesday.

Romeu had decided to do a split training session during the afternoon: midfielders on one end of the pitch, defenders on the other, and forwards in the middle.

Something about improving intra-position dynamics, sharpening communication and developing better passes throughout the whole pitch… It was definitely something important.

Y/n barely heard the explanation or what they were expected to be doing, and judging by the look on Jana's face, she was rather lost as well.

Y/n and Jana were supposed to be working on positioning and defensive transitions, but right now? They were both standing still, unenthusiastically stretching while staring across the pitch.

On the other side, Alexia and Kika were talking.

Yes. Kika had finally come to training after two days of not showing up.

They weren't just talking, though. They were deep in it, heads tilted in that serious conversation kind of way. Their brows were slightly furrowed, arms occasionally gesturing like they were trying to get a point across.

"Oh god," Y/n muttered. "Why does it look like they're talking about something serious?"

"Because they probably are," Jana replied, arms crossed, not even pretending to stretch anymore. "Do you think she's asking about what happened Sunday between you two?"

"No," Y/n said calmly. "I don't think Alexia would get herself and Kika distracted during training just to get some gossip."

Next to Alexia and Kika was Vicky.

She kept glancing back at the two of them and making increasingly unhinged hand gestures.

She pointed at Kika. Then at Y/n. Then she made a motion that looked like either a broken heart or… a butterfly? Y/n wasn't sure.

"What the hell is she trying to say?" Jana asked.

"Okay, okay…" Y/n squinted at Vicky. "She pointed at Kika. That's definitely Kika. Then at me… oh god. Fuck–"

Y/n looked at Jana desperately. "You were right, Jana, Alexia's definitely talking about me and Kika."

"You should go over there and make it stop," Jana said deadpan.

"I'm not going over there." Y/n's stomach twisted. "Kika is probably over-explaining herself right now."

"Then at least tell Vicky to stop signalling like that… she looks like a mad woman. Oh--" Jana nudged her lightly. "Wait, now she's… sliding a finger across her throat? Y/n, I think Alexia is threatening Kika's life."

"Shit, Alexia can just go straight ahead and plan my funeral if she wants to see me die of embarrassment," Y/n mumbled. "Seriously, tío, why does she have to always be in my business?"

"Well…" Jana said, turning her head slightly. "Maybe you should start opening up to her and Olga a bit."

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Not this conversation again."

"I'm right, though!" Jana continued persistently. "They're always there for you, I think it would do you some good to get their perspective about this whole thing."

"It's not like I kept it all a secret," Y/n tried to defend herself. "They know I like Kika, I told them that… hell, I even cried! It was humiliating!"

"If you think crying is humiliating, then you should get back to therapy," Jana said stoically.

"Forget therapy," Y/n tied her hair tighter, for no reason, maybe she hoped that it would keep the blood flowing to her brain better. "Plus, I kind of told Alexia a little bit about what happened at the park."

"Did you tell her, or did you just groan and go to your room?"

Y/n opened her mouth. Closed it. "...I groaned and went to my room."

"Exactly." Jana shook her head. "You are hopeless."

Y/n let out a miserable noise.

"Like… Vicky, signalling with her weird hand signs is better at communicating than you are," Jana said as they watched the young girl continue her attempt at communicating what Alexia and Kika were talking about. "-And that's honestly sad."

Now, Vicky was dramatically miming wiping tears from her cheeks.

"Oh my god," Y/n muttered, dragging her hands down her face. "I'm never leaving this side of the pitch again."

Y/n and Jana were focused again, ready to decode Vicky's latest hand gesture, when suddenly, Alexia turned to Vicky with a sharp look and gave her a light slap on the top of her head.

The slap wasn't hard, but the sound echoed across the field, and Y/n could hear what Alexia said.

"Vicky, stop being an idiot and go away."

Vicky froze, her mouth forming a small pout as she blinked rapidly, clearly caught off guard.

Y/n could see her expression fall, all her elaborate signals crumbling into confusion.

"She's telling her to go away," Y/n muttered under her breath.

"I know, we all heard," Jana snorted. "Damn, Alexia doesn't play around."

Vicky shuffled away from Alexia and Kika's side, her shoulders slumped, and her face in a pout. She moved to stand next to Esmee, still visibly mad.

Y/n couldn't help but smile. Alexia normally would baby Vicky around–a lot– so it was funny to see the contrast with what happened today. 

But that also only meant one thing: Alexia was having a serious conversation with Kika, or else she wouldn't mind Vicky's silliness.

Jana and Y/n still had their eyes glued to Kika, Alexia and Vicky, but it didn't last long.

There was a loud, very deliberate noise right between them.

"Hello, ladies," came a voice that was too cheerful for this moment.

Both Y/n and Jana froze, their eyes wide. It was Romeu. They hadn't even seen him approaching.

"Is there something wrong here?" he asked, his voice filled with mock sweetness.

Y/n and Jana exchanged panicked glances, immediately straightening up.

"No, nothing's wrong!" they both blurted in unison.

Romeu raised an eyebrow, a sly grin on his face. 

"Oh, I thought there was something wrong, because surely my number one defenders aren't just standing around gossiping, right?"

"Uhm, no, of course not, we're trainin,g–"

"I better not catch you two standing still for no reason," Romeu cut in, his tone hardening. "If you're not hurt, then you're supposed to be training. No excuses."

He paused for a moment, scanning the two of them, before his eyes narrowed.

"I don't want to see you standing still on a pitch unless you've got an injury to justify it, got it?"

Y/n and Jana exchanged another look and nodded at their manager. They had no choice.

Quickly, they grabbed a ball and began a series of quick tackle drills to show they were definitely not slacking off.

As they sprinted to position, Y/n shot a glance over at Alexia and Kika, who were still in their conversation, only to catch Alexia's eye for a second.

And then Kika's.

Y/n turned to look away. Less than a second later, she wasn't ready for that.

But still, she could feel Kika's eyes on her back. People often described others’ glances as a burning sensation, but Y/n didn’t feel that. Kika’s watchful eyes felt like a weight.

 Y/n didn't like it. The growing tension between them was not something she had expected to happen.

They couldn't stay like this forever. 

At some point, they would have to talk. Not about the park, necessarily, just…talk. greet each other, say Bon dia.

Ultimately, they were teammates first; they needed to have at least a somewhat professional relationship.

And if Kika didn't like her… well, fine. It wasn't like Y/n hadn't survived without her before.

She had lived almost twenty years perfectly well without Kika's attention or her smiles or the way she made everything feel a little better, brighter.

She could do it again.

At the end of the day, they hadn't even dated, kissed or held hands. It shouldn't hurt this much.

She just hoped, really, really hoped, that whatever this was between them, that Kika didn't see her as some obligation. As someone to pity, to look after out of kindness or guilt.

If Kika didn't like her, that was one thing. But if the only thing she felt for her was some sort of pity? Well… that would be worse.

a/n: hope you guys liked it <3

[katnipp]

don’t fall for me— aeri uchinaga

genre: FLUFFFF

synopsis: when y/n joins giselle and yeji for a special toxic cover, their playful smiles and quiet touches light up the room

—

y/n wasn’t even supposed to be in the lineup.

she was halfway through rehearsals for her own group’s comeback stage when her manager pulled her aside with a phone to her ear and a look that said, you’re not going to like this, but you’re not going to say no either.

“julie’s out,” the manager said. “flu. they want you to sub in for the ‘toxic’ special stage.”

pause.

“with giselle and yeji.”

longer pause.

“…and it’s tomorrow.”

⸻

within the hour, y/n was in a different building, in a different rehearsal room, wearing someone else’s outfit and letting a coordinator stick safety pins into her side while another adjusted a mic pack against her spine.

“you’ve danced with yeji before, right?” one of them asked.

“yeah,” y/n murmured, absently watching herself in the mirror as they twisted her hair into a sleek ponytail. “we did a cover together last year.”

“and you and giselle… trained together?”

that made her blink.

trained together.

they had. that was true.

but the word didn’t come close to covering it.

⸻

they’d trained in the same company, same class. same 11 p.m. vocal lessons and convenience store dinners, same flickering hallway lights and shared stretches in too-small practice rooms.

y/n had liked her almost immediately. it was hard not to like giselle. she was sharp and funny and annoyingly pretty, quick to roast and quicker to defend. and she had this way of glancing sideways at you when she was trying not to laugh, like your existence was a secret joke you were both in on.

they weren’t particularly close—trainee life didn’t leave much room for softness—but there was a pull between them, something quiet and gravitational.

they would always end up stretching near each other. switching water bottles by mistake. sharing earbuds on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, pretending they weren’t both listening for the other’s breath between beats.

y/n had kept it casual. had tried to. until one night, weeks before giselle’s debut was announced, she’d been crying alone in a stairwell after a brutal evaluation. and giselle—who wasn’t even in that building that day—found her.

no words. no questions.

just sat beside her. leaned their heads together.

after that, it was different.

after that, y/n had to delete half her private playlist just to stop hearing giselle’s voice every time she put on her headphones.

⸻

the night giselle debuted, y/n got one text:

don’t stop.

your turn’s coming.

and when it does—i better be your first collab.

she hadn’t deleted it. not even after all this time.

and now, here she was. wearing a corset she hadn’t rehearsed in, standing in a dance studio where her crush from two years ago was currently warming up, all because julie had a fever.

⸻

“look who finally showed up,” came a voice from behind her, and god, of course it was her.

giselle was in a black cropped hoodie, hair already tied up, rings on three fingers like she’d just walked off a music video set. she had a bottle of pocari sweat in one hand and the exact same teasing smirk she always wore when she knew she was winning.

y/n turned slowly. “don’t tell me you missed me.”

“i was gonna fake an injury if they didn’t get someone hot to replace julie,” giselle said, shrugging. “lucky me.”

yeji coughed somewhere across the studio.

“you always this full of yourself?” y/n asked, arching a brow.

giselle tilted her head. stepped just a little too close. “only when you’re watching.”

⸻

the first rehearsal was chaos.

yeji was the most professional, obviously—precise, focused, probably could’ve done the choreo blindfolded.

giselle… was giselle.

she picked things up fast, made jokes in between takes, somehow looked more like a pop star mid-sweat than y/n looked after full glam. and whenever they ran the chorus again, her hands landed just a bit lower on y/n’s hips than strictly necessary.

“again,” the choreographer barked. “cleaner transition this time.”

“got it,” giselle murmured, stepping behind y/n, fingertips ghosting up her side. “you good?”

“fine,” y/n said. not fine.

they moved in sync. the beat hit. giselle’s breath skimmed her neck.

after the third take, y/n dropped her water bottle.

after the fifth, giselle whispered, “you keep flinching.”

“your hands are cold.”

giselle leaned closer. “you sure that’s the reason?”

y/n didn’t answer.

⸻

the fans noticed immediately.

by the time the teaser dropped, ship tweets were flooding timelines:

“why is giselle looking at y/n like she’s the main course 😭”

“i just KNOW there’s history here. look at the eye contact. LOOK AT IT.”

someone dug up an old photo from trainee days. blurry, pixelated, barely visible—but unmistakably them, standing side by side during a showcase lineup.

caption: “this wasn’t just casting. this was fate.”

⸻

day of the performance.

the room was loud. stylists buzzed. someone’s jewelry set had gone missing. giselle was sitting on the floor, bent over her phone, and y/n was trying not to stare at the curve of her neck.

they hadn’t talked much that day.

too many people. too many eyes.

but right before they were called to the stage, as the others filed out, giselle touched her elbow.

“hey.”

y/n turned.

she held out her pinky. “for luck.”

y/n blinked. “what?”

“new ritual. just for us.”

y/n hesitated—then hooked their pinkies together. soft. warm.

giselle smiled. “don’t fall for me.”

“too late,” y/n whispered, too low for anyone but giselle to hear.

⸻

on stage, it was a fever dream.

the lights. the bass. the sound of their heels on the glossy floor.

every movement felt magnified. every look between them was real.

when giselle’s arm slid around her waist, y/n didn’t need to fake the shiver. when their hands touched during the last chorus, y/n’s fingers curled instinctively toward hers. and when giselle leaned in during the outro, whispering the final “don’t you know that you’re toxic” in her ear—

y/n almost forgot there were cameras at all.

⸻

after the stage, chaos.

staff cheered. stylists swarmed. someone threw a towel over y/n’s shoulders. her ears were ringing.

and giselle—still breathless, still smiling—passed her a water bottle.

“you killed it,” she said softly.

y/n took it. their fingers brushed. neither of them moved.

“you too.”

a long pause.

“hey,” giselle added, a little quieter. “if we did a unit together… would you hate it?”

y/n’s heart stuttered. “depends.”

“on what?”

“if i’d have to pretend again.”

“what if you didn’t?”

and then yeji yelled, “we have to go!” and the moment broke like a wave.

⸻

a fancam hit 500k in three hours.

“y/n looked like she wanted to kiss giselle. and giselle looked like she was already thinking about the second date.”

—

[cupcakeinat0r]

Still thinking of Dadbod!Miguel to this day…

“I wonder what she’s up to right now. I hope she’s having fun.”

Your voice rings against the tiles of a shared bathroom, the lights of the grand mirror bleeding into the dark bedroom adjacent to it. The only other light illuminating the space was the tv, which was for nothing because no one was watching; it was merely background noise.

“Probably running and yapping circles around them, keeping everyone up, as per usual.” You hear the rich timbre of your boyfriend from the bed. You lean back from the sink to search his expression, a knowing smile accompanied by a raised brow, framed by bifocals hanging low on his nose. Everything about your partner exuded strength, except in his vision. Poor thing could never quite make out the words of his books without them.

You and Miguel knew how energetic Gabby was. It explained her unbelievably crazy stamina showcased in her soccer games, scoring goals for her team. And as if it wasn’t uncontainable enough, Miguel insisted on always getting her ice cream afterwards, failing to turn down her precious little pleads for a sweet treat. Even though you’d give him the look, you could never deny her either. You were both push overs.

“Sounds like someone I know.” You mirror his expression, the tease in your tone registered by him.

“Hey, I’ll gladly admit to being the reason for keeping you up at night.” The gravel of his words and his dashing smile makes you retreat back to the mirror. You apply the last step of your nightly routine while smiling like an idiot. You could always play cheeky with Mig, but nine times out of ten, he’d match your energy or double it, so inevitably, you’d always lose that contest. But you didn’t mind it. You loved that Miguel was always turned on, even by the smallest of things. He was always hungry for you.

Taking your bashful giggle as a sign of his victory, he returns to his book, one that looks too small for his hands.

He speaks whilst eyes are glued to the page, “But I’m sure she’s having fun, mamita. She’s always adored her cousins. And her uncle, for that matter.”

“Gabriel is pretty good with her.” You say with a smile as you leave the bathroom.

“Yeah, maybe too good. Starting to think you and him are the favorite.” He sets the book and his glasses onto the nightstand to draw his attention all on you: the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, even bare faced and in pjs.

With curled lips and folded arms, you look down at him. Like a child waiting for his teddy bear, his arms spread out for you to fall into, like he does every night when he waits for you to finally come out the bathroom.

“Babyyy, not true,” you can’t help but look all over your man, the bed frame only just fitting him; The figure of a man who maybe lets his daughter choose dessert over sliced fruit too much, but that’s more than okay. More to cling onto at night.

You climb into bed, the sheets feeling nice and warm, but nothing compared to the beautiful blend of cushion and hardness your boyfriend has somehow mastered.

“Mamita… Gabby is crazy about you. She wouldn’t stop asking for you after the first time you went to her game with me.”

“I know Gabby loves me, but it doesn’t mean she loves you any less.”

“Oh, I know, I know…” you both shuffle in bed as you find a comfortable position for the night, tangled bodies exchanging equal parts of coolness and warmth. Miguel flinches and lets out a small ‘ay’ when your frozen-solid feet touch his legs, to which you softly apologize immediately, adding a kiss.

“But she really is in love with you. She’s actually, uh…”

He looks down at the minuscule space between you two, looking to finish his sentence,

“… been wanting to call you ‘mom’ for a bit now.”

You smile widely at the admission, “wait what?!” Your quiet disbelief makes Miguel smile, too.

“Yeah,” his voice softens. “She’s just been nervous to say so, but she’s told me.” His fingers trace shapes on your outer thigh, his gentle gaze spilling with adoration.

He lets out a short huff, “What can I say, it’s hard not to fall completely head over heels with you. I don’t blame her.” As if you couldn’t get any closer to him, he presses you against him even more. The air of his words hits your nose and lips slightly, the lowness and slight sleepiness in his voice stirring your core.

You don’t know what to say other than, “I just love you so much, Mig.” You shake your head faintly side to side. A million stars shine in your eyes, your smile ear to ear in this moment. “And to think I got you and Gabriella as a package deal. I literally won the lottery. Seeing how you are with Gabby? That’s what got me sold.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“…So it wasn’t the five star restaurants or the gifts or the trips-?” You fall into a fit of soft laughter with him.

“Baby, please, you know that wasn’t it!” You kick him under the sheets. For the entirety of your relationship, you always reminded him that the material things never mattered. You were huge on making sure he never felt taken advantage of, even though he took great pleasure in taking care of you.

“Nah, beba, I’m just messing with you. I know you’re not like that, c’mon now.” His hand messages your shoulder.

“But seriously… you’re such a good dad. I hope you know how good you’ve done with Gabby, even by yourself.”

“I try. Thank you, mama.” He humbly whispers before planting a hard kiss to your forehead, inhaling your scent.

“And thank you for treating her like your own. You treat her so good. Watching you two… I dunno, it’s like my fuel. So thank you for accepting her. And for accepting me.” Your foreheads touch now.

“I know talking to someone whose got kids isn’t always ideal-“

“What?” You scoff.

“Are you kidding? The second you told me you had Gabby, I wanted to give you another one.”

And the look Miguel gives you is all too familiar.

“Oh yeah?” His eyes look you up and down. He mumbles, “You never told me that.”

“Well, it’s true, I did… I thought it was so sweet the way you spoke about her that first dinner. And when I came over for the first time? Seeing you with her?” Your eyes widened,

“Jesus, I’m surprised I didn’t let you stay the night and-“

“And what?” Miguel cuts you off, his own breath growing short.

“Nooo, I shouldn’t say.” I feign a shameful look, your eyes darting away and failing to stifle a smile.

“Nonono,” Miguel gets on top of you, forcing you to look up at him, “Don’t stop talking now.” He starts to laugh when you do, the both of you breaking out once again that night.

“Alright, you wanna know the first thing I thought after that dinner? Our five-hour-long dinner?”

You furrow your brows, “Oh God, what?”

“I thought…” he lowers himself down, racking through and locking his fingers into your hair, cradling your head, “that she’s the one.”

Your bottom lip pouts at the declaration. “Aw baby, really?”

“Yeah…” he pauses for a moment, a guilty expression painted on his face,

“and that I also wanted to stay over and do unspeakable things to you.”

Your head falls back into the pillow and you let out a shocked laugh, cupping your mouth.

“Don’t laugh, it had been a while for me. I was deprived.” He tries his best to stay serious, but your contagious laughter is impossible to not gush over.

“Well,” you catch my breath, “not anymore.” You bite your lip, “We live under one roof now. One bed.” Your hands trail up and down his hairy chest.

He grunts, his face falling to the crook of your neck, “Gracias a dios.” He softly murmurs into your skin, “‘cuz I dunno how much longer I could’ve taken having to say bye to you at the end of every night.”

“Me either,” your sigh out.

“Baby…” you continue,

“Yes, mamita?” Your neck muffles his words.

“Guess what?”

“Hm?”

“Gabby isn’t home.” You remind him in a whisper.

Miguel lifts his head, your words clocking into his mind.

Oh, right…

“Then what the hell are we doing? C’mere.”

He sits up on the bed, placing your legs on other side of his waist. with the most wolfish smirk you’ve ever seen, marking the beginning of a very,

Very,

Very long night.

[bluewxrld07]

Been Like This Pt. 2

Lando Norris X F!Reader

Summary: After Lando's little encounter with Y/N, he sees she's got more fire than he had ever expected. He's making it his goal to make her give in, but he doesn't know the tricks she's got up her sleeve to make him fold first.

Warning(s): sly touching, mutual pining, liiiiitle bit of angst (if you blink you'll miss it), touching, dirty talk, fingering, f!receiving

A/N: I MAYYYY make this into a series...? If I should, lemme know, and also comment if you'd like to be added to the tag list. Love you all!!

Y/N ran down the corridor, nearly almost tripping over her own feet as she turned the corner.

She was late, she was so late.

She had woken up to her phone ringing for the millionth time, only to realize it wasn't the alarm she was snoozing. It was a phone call from Oscar, alongside hundreds of texts from the group asking where she was and if she was even alive.

Her bedsheets had never been shot up quicker than they were in that moment, she had never been late. She mainly overslept because of the work she was prepping for their upcoming triple header, knowing she had to get what she could do. She was gonna have rarely any time to take care of it when she was traveling.

Once the elevator doors opened, she sprinted out towards her apartment entryway doors, hands full of her stuff.

She saw the boys sitting outside in the large SUV, letting out a sigh of relief when they saw her scurrying out. "Finally! What happened?" Lando huffs, getting out of the car to help her grab her things and put them in the back.

She blows a piece of hair out of her face. "I guess I hit the wrong button on my alarms," she says as they close the trunk and round the sides. "I don't even remember falling asleep either, I'm just glad I had everything set so I could just grab and go." she explains as she takes a spot in the back of the SUV between Lando and Oscar.

"Were you working again?" Oscar trails off, and she gives him a look.

"Hey some of us have to actually take work home with us okay? Especially before this triple-header I had to make sure everything was set." she says, earning a shake of the head from Oscar.

"Sleep is important too, missy." he tuts and she playfully swats at him.

"Take a cat nap," Lando suggests as she turns to face him. He pats on his chest. "I'll even let you use me as your personal pillow." he says.

"I can't nap." she chuckles.

"Sure you can. I'll even wake you when we're near," he says, and she purses her lips before nodding slowly.

Ever since that night in Italy, she and Lando have been more touchy than they usually are. Tension grew between the two of them. Lando would get away with sly touches or kisses that looked like nothing, but felt like everything to Y/N. It drove her crazy.

Yet he wasn't the only one who would get away with things, Y/N driving Lando just as crazy as he did her.

Her little outfits or looks she would give him, knowing he couldn't do what he wanted with the room filled with people. Or the way she would dominate him with certain touches or words.

The way she would round the couch or the chair in his driver's room, take his jaw in her tiny hands, and tilt his head back to look up at her from behind while her hands traveled down his chest and sat on his thighs.

The way she would leave him flustered drove him nuts.

"I might as well, especially if I'm stuck with you lots for three weeks," she jokes, earning a playfully slap from Oscar. "I'm better than he is in most situations!" he sputters while pointing at Lando.

"We'll call it a draw." she says while earning groans from them both, which makes her laugh.

Lando pats his chest again and she smiles warmly before leaning her head against him, his hands immediately pulling her thighs over his lap to make her more comfortable.

He places a kiss on her temple as his hands squeeze and caress her legs, the feeling making her insides tingle as she closes her eyes with a hum.

"Feel good?" he mutters to her and she nods, the boy giggling lightly as he lets one of his hands travel in between her thighs and squeeze. His thumb caresses the skin there as her thighs break out into goosebumps.

Y/N let one of her hands fall against his own that sat on her skin, her breathing slowing softly as they drove to the airport.

Oscar looks over at the two, giving Lando a knowing look who brushes it away. The boys both had a quiet conversation as they drove, being careful to not disturb the sleeping girl.

Once they had arrived at the jet, Oscar was the first to get out to go help grab bags. Lando leaned his head down towards the girl whose head had fallen slightly down on his chest. Lando releases her thigh from his hold, bringing it up to grips softly at the front of her neck to bring her head up.

He smiled lightly as he stared down at her, before deciding to place a few soft kisses along her cheek and jawline as he said her name.

Her eyes begin to slowly flutter open, sighing at the feeling of his lips on her jaw. She lets a content hum leave her throat, signaling she's awake and feels his lips turn up into a grin.

His face leaves her neck to look down at her, his hand still grasping lightly at her throat with a knowing smirk. He flicks his eyes down to her lips for a split second before looking back into her eyes.

"We're here," he mumbles lightly, seeing a sleepy grin come onto her face.

"Five more minutes," she groans, but he lets out a tut. "You can go back to sleep on the jet, love. We're kind of on a time crunch because some girl I know overslept."

She shoots him a glare as she stretches, standing up to get out of the car and onto the platform.

One of the attendants handed her bags to her, the girl happily smiling and thanking them before making her way onto the small jet. She greets the pilot as she goes to find a home on the lounging seats, putting her pillow on the side closest to the window.

She was glad it was a longer flight and that she didn't have to dress nice for it. She immediately pulled the hoodie she wore up onto her head and tightened the strings to hide her face, as she slumped along the lounging seat on her stomach and closed her eyes.

The boys weren't far behind her as she hears them talking while entering the plane, the pair stopping for a second when they see her already comfy and cozy.

Once the rest of the crew had arrived and got settled on the plane, they all got ready for lift-off.

Y/N was close to being fully asleep when she felt a body begin lying across her own, making her groan out a whine. The familiar scent wafted into her nose, making her huff as she turned her head to the side to see Lando making home in the crook of her neck. "Lando get off," she whines trying to lift him off of her.

"Make some room then, pretty," he chuckles looking at her face, seeing it was covered by her hoodie and only catching the glare and furrowed brows.

"First come, first serve," she taunts while she closes her eyes. Lando hums as his hands come up to her waist and pinches her sides, getting a jolt and a squeak from the girl below him.

"Be nice and share," he says, earning a shake of the head from her. "I don't share," she hums, her eyes showing a flick of something as she says that. Lando smirks.

"Oh really now?" he plays along, letting his hands wander from her sides towards her front and trailing upwards slowly.

When he hears a sigh leave her mouth, he knows he is safe to keep moving. His eyes never leave the bits of her face he can see. "I'm not much of a sharer either," he says. "Especially when it comes to you." he taunts, his hands stopping and making home on both of her breasts.

He doesn't miss the slight gasp that she tries to hide, Lando chuckling as he watches her try to adjust in her spot on her stomach.

The way his grasp held her made her not feel uncomfortable or anywhere near it. It was a secure hold, but at the same time she knew what he was trying to do and she refused to give into it.

"Lando," she sighs, hearing the hum he gives her as he lays his head on her shoulder while his eyes never left her face. "Don't start something you cannot finish." she taunts back with a trail off of her voice.

He chuckles while stretching out his body over hers and digs his head more into the crook of her neck to place a kiss, his hands nonchalantly squeezing her chest in his hands softly.

"I think I could happily finish what I'm starting, yeah? Show you what you're missing?" he says, hearing her chuckle as she finally stares at him.

"You're still on that?' she says and he furrows his brows. "Oh absolutely."

She shook her head before turning her head away from him and towards the lounge chair. "Not going to happen." she sings before placing her hands over his comfortably.

Lando groans before he finally decides to let go of her and sit up, deciding to take place at the end of the lounge chair where her legs sit. He placed her lower half on his lap, his hands caressing up and down her legs as he let her finally sleep while deciding to conjure up a conversation with the guys behind him.

As Y/N began to finally rest, her mind kept going back to their little interaction. Their playful banners ran deeper for her, and she couldn't let him know that.

Sure, Lando would never hurt her, but he was still Lando at the end of the day. She has seen his playboy side more than anyone. She couldn't give him that side of her. Give him that vulnerable side she had. So keeping it playful was what she decided would be best.

Until she at least found someone that could hookup with to get the virgin thing out of the way.

In which she would never let Lando know she was in search of that, he would never let her hear the end of it. He would lose his shit nevertheless.

Before she could eat her mind drift any longer, she finally fell into a deeper slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lando come on, let's go! Showing up late doesn't mean showing up two hours late!" Y/N announces on the other side of his suite door, knocking once more.

The door finally opens and she looks him up and down as he buttons up his dress shirt.

"Finally!" she huffs before turning around and beginning to leave.

When she doesn't hear his footsteps behind her, she turns around to see he is still frozen in place as a smirk adorns his lips. "Just lemme take a second," he says while eyeing her. "Or maybe two." he playfully says, making her roll her eyes.

"Well you don't have even a millisecond to waste we're already going to be barely on time for this thing," she says going to grab his arm and drag him out of the hotel.

"It's just a welcoming party, nothing I haven't shown up late to before," he says.

She turns to look at him as they walk towards the entrance where the beautiful car sits waiting for them. Lando budges in front of her to open up the door and guide her inside, before rounding the car and getting into the driver's seat.

"Ok, so Oscar said he and Max are going together with Charles. They said to meet them at the table on the right side of the venue by the large wall of windows," she reads out from her phone, Lando watching her type away before setting it down.

He watches from time to time as she begins to mumble to herself about work and the upcoming schedules, a thing she does when she is overthinking.

"Pretty girl," he sings out, making her eyes snap over to him with a hum. "Take a minute and relax. Everything works out usually, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but-"

"Nope," he tuts. "Relax for the evening yeah?"

"Lando I never relax," she jokes with a knowing look towards him, making him huff out a laugh.

"Do I need to help you relax?" he says in a lower tone, making her entire demeanor harden. Lando's face never faltering as he looks over at her.

"How do you mean?" she asks innocently, making his lips turn up into a smirk.

"I can think of a few things," he says and she chuckles while shaking her head when she finally gets what he is doing.

"You're ridiculous," she chuckles. "You're also driving, Lan. So nice try."

Lando chuckles lowly at her comment, letting one of his hands leave the steering wheel and find a spot high on her thigh.

"Sweetheart, you act as if driving isn't what I do for a living," he jokes, squeezing her plush skin. Y/N feels her face begin to heat up at his touch, her eyes watching him find the slit in her dress and slip underneath.

She lets out a gasp as his hand doesn't stop, something she is used to him doing. He usually just teases her, but when he finds the crevice of where her thigh meets her pelvis it makes her realize he was serious.

Before he can get any further, she feels her confidence kick in and she grabs his wrist to stop him. He looks over at her, seeing a small smirk find its way on her pretty nude colored lips.

"I just might let it happen. On one condition," she taunts, earning a shocked look from Lando who then nods not too shortly after.

"You keep those eyes on the road," she instructs, hearing his groan. "Not even a glance?" he asks and she shakes her head.

"You only get to feel. You haven't been given the luxury of looking." she chuckles lightly.

"Yet." he says while looking over at her for a second before looking back to the road.

"Deal?" she asks and he hums with a nod. "I need actual words, sweet boy." she says in a sweet voice that always drives him nuts.

"Fuck," he sighs as his head leans back against the headrest, but never leaves the road. "Yes. Deal." he agrees. Y/N immediately felt her pulse quicken, knowing what would happen next was something very new between them. She had to keep her composure as best as she could, not showing how nervous she truly was.

Y/N then proceeds to increase in confidence as she sees the look in Lando's eyes as he watches the road as he drives, seeing his Adam's apple bob multiple times. She knew he was trying so hard to do as she told him to.

She happily helps guide his hand back to in between her thighs, her breathing becoming heavy as his hand gets closer to her most sensitive spot.

Lando fails to hide the groan that leaves his lips at the feeling of her being commando under that dress, his fingers coming into contact immediately with her slit. Y/N leans her head back against the headrest while letting out a low sigh at the feeling of his hand on her.

She decides to let his wrist go and let him do as he pleased, using one of her hands to slightly part her dress to give him more access.

His fingers immediately move up and down her slit, collecting the wetness that pools between her thighs before he finds a home on her clit. "Ohh fuck," he whines lowly. "All for me, baby?" he chuckles lowly. She nods and lets out a gasp as he rubs at her clit.

Only for him to pinch her clit a second later and make her jolt while letting out a squeak. She turns and looks at him. "If I can't watch you fall apart, you've gotta talk to me," he instructs. "Got that?" he asks as he pinches her clit once more.

"Ah yes," she gasps out, earning a satisfied hum before continuing to rub it in circles. "This is for you, Lan." she agrees watching his hand do vigorous things to her pussy.

"Such a good girl," he purrs, making Y/N let out a moan. She decides to take one of her hands and grasp at her left breast, her eyes never leaving Lando's side profile. She watches as he bites his bottom lip over and over again, trying to keep his composure as his fingers rub and press into her. "You're driving me absolutely nuts, Y/N. You little minx."

"Fuck Lando," she moans out, biting her lip as his paces fastens up and down her slit before doing figure eights on her clit every so often.

Y/N trails her free hand down to lie over his hand. "You gonna guide me now, love?" he sighs.

Y/N doesn't say anything, only keeps her eyes on him as she helps push his middle finger into her pussy. The feeling makes them both moan out, Lando almost doing a pit stop at the feeling of her how tight her walls felt just around his finger alone.

"Bloody- fuck," Y/N moans out as Lando begins to push his finger in and out of her cautiously, not wanting to hurt her as he wasn't sure of how tight it felt in her point of view.

"I've always imagined my fingers as yours," she taunts, wanting to bait him. "This feels way better than I could've ever done." she moans, making Lando press on the accelerator going faster than before.

"Please," he whines out. "Please just one look, baby," he sighs and she chuckles before letting out a mixture of a gasp and moan as he finds that spongey spot inside of her.

"Nope," she says with a sigh following. He quickens his pace inside her.

He slows for a second before adding a second finger that causes her to grab at his wrist while making curling motions, and then he pumps in and out of her quicker than his pace earlier.

It's becoming music to Lando's ears as she moans out his nickname, the boy now beginning to feel territorial to these sounds she's making. He liked that he was having this effect on her, and how compliant she became. He could tell she was still fighting with her own dominant side, but nonetheless he would love for her to take over one day fully. Let her be the one fully in charge.

Her walls began to convulse around his fingers, making her breathing stagger as one hand gripped onto his forearm as his pace never slowed while the other hand held onto the door handle next to her.

"Lando fuck, keep going, don't stop," she moans out, gasps leaving every so often from her mouth as he moaned out her own name while whispering dirty things to her.

Lando had to stop himself from parking that car as she began to hump his hand, screaming out his name as she finally hit that bursting climax she was climbing towards. Lando's own chest rising and falling heavily as he helps her come down.

He gives her a few seconds when they finally hit a red light, pulling his fingers out of her. She grabs his hand that was just now leaving the warmth of her walls. "Look at me Lan," she breathes out, the boy not missing a beat as he turns his head towards her winded frame and follows her movements.

She takes his fingers in between her own lips, letting them rest on her tongue as she sucks them clean. Lando curses in a moan at her movements, his pants tighter than they've ever been as his fingers leave her mouth with a loud pop.

"Sweet girl," he growls. She smirks at him as he takes her jaw into a squeezing hold.

"Sweet boy," she shoots back, Lando shaking his head unsure of what to say in that moment. The light then turns green before he can smash his lips onto her own, making him groan and her chuckle.

"So close," she jokes, earning a slap to the thigh as he finally just lets his hand rest there while they drove.

"You are trouble," he chuckles while shaking his head. "Absolute trouble."

After a moment like that, he swore to himself he was never going to let another man see her in that way. She belonged to him, and he would make sure she knew that.

Taglist:

@love-4-rafey-lando , @mimisweetz , @landonorrisgirlie, @majapapaya4

[4ttack-ur-heart]

The Boss’s Heart

Chapter II: Murphy’s Law

Summary: You’ve found your rhythm working for Apollo. Now, the challenge is meeting the boss of Onychinus… and running into some unexpected trouble.

This chapter does contain sensitive content so please read with caution!

Warnings: Violence, cursing, blood, reader gets mugged.

Series masterlist Ch. I

Second chapter out :) as always feedback is appreciated and I'd love to hear any ideas you guys have.

“Hey Y/n, I need those two fully automatics we just got in.”

“Very back of the second aisle, bottom shelf, silver cases.”

“What about the ammunition with the armor-piercing rounds?”

“Those are locked in the storage room. I’ll grab them for you in a few minutes.”

“One of the clients asked if we could erase the serial numbers from his firearms.”

“Tell him to find a Dremel and get to work, if they wanted us to do it- that should’ve been discussed during negotiations.”

After about 3 months of working in the warehouse, you were able to figure your way around. Apollo had taken you under his wing in showing you the way he does things. Thanks to his training, you were able to familiarize yourself with the various tasks around the warehouse. It was a lot to learn- and you still are learning, but at least now you’re able to get by.

One of your biggest concerns was working in a male-dominated environment. However, the guys didn’t pay too much attention to you in the beginning. You thought they’d resort to teasing or sexist comments- but instead, they just gave you the cold shoulder at times. Now, you’re happy to say they have started to warm up to you. Since Apollo ran the place and trusted you, it made the others understand no real malice or harm was coming from you. You were just a girl who needed a steady paycheck.

The main people you see and talk to during your shift are Tony, Freddy, Carl, Will, and of course, Apollo. There are others, but these are the guys you’ve managed to create a nice work relationship with.

Will, the first gentleman you’ve had the pleasure of encountering when you first arrived, was a very nice man. Sure, he held you at gunpoint, but that’s just because he’s had to keep his guard up his entire life. This is his first steady job since being released from prison. Like Apollo, he’s got a beautiful wife and they’re expecting their first child soon. A baby boy.

Tony was an older man with slicked-back grey hair. He didn’t have a family of his own, instead, he had various women keeping him company throughout the weeks. Tony was a bit of a player and very old-school. Sure, he’d flirt every now and then and even throw you a shitty pickup line, but he’s a sweetheart. He even claims if he was fifteen years younger, he’d be able to sweep you off your feet.

Freddy and Carl were both around your age, somewhere in their twenties. While goofballs at times, they’re very hard workers. Freddy was more the shy type; a quiet kid with a pair of glasses that he breaks at least once a week. Carl was the complete opposite, he was an active guy who loved making inappropriate jokes at the wrong times that Freddy even joined in on. Together, they add the humor and lightheartedness of the job.

It’s just past midnight when Apollo receives a call that interrupts your conversation. He doesn’t say anything, but the ominous vibrations of his phone leave him flustered. He quickly leaves without a word, scrambling into his office and shutting the door behind him. You turn to Carl, who simply shrugs his shoulders in response.

“Sylus must’ve called him.” A large thunk makes you jump. You turn around to see Will setting down a case of ammunition on the work table.

“Sylus?”

“The boss… ya know, leader of Onychinus?” Freddy butts in. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him.”

Umm, you haven’t actually. At least not his first name. Everyone here always refers to him as ‘boss’.

“Nobody makes Apollo nervous like the boss. You know how mellow he normally is, but once he gets a call from the boss, he’s a nervous wreck.” Will adds.

“Is he that scary?” You ask. The only things you’ve heard about the leader of Onychinus was that he was some mean old guy with a talking crow apparently- but those rumors were all from the streets anyways so you never gave them much thought.

“I heard he took out a group of four assassins after him with just a snap of his fingers.”

“Woah, really?” Carl takes out a cigarette and places it between his lips. “Did you know those two guys that are always with him tried killing him too?”

Will and Freddy both turn to him in shock.

“Those two guys with the crow masks? Don’t they like to worship him?” Freddy asks.

Carl shrugs his shoulders. “They do now. I heard he only hired them so he can see if they’ll succeed one day.”

You start to fade out of the ongoing conversation, your attention drifting as your gaze fixates on the heavy, closed door of Apollo’s office. Its surface, marked by time, seems to hold secrets of its own. Just then, as if he were drawn to your curious stare, the creaky metal door suddenly swings open, revealing a wide-eyed Apollo who steps out with an unmistakable urgency. Instantly, the animated chatter around you comes to a standstill, and every pair of eyes shifts toward him, the atmosphere thickening with anticipation.

“Well?” Freddy asks.

Apollo swallows hard and repeatedly clicks the ballpoint pen locked in his grip. “I guess the boss wants to pay a visit.”

All of your eyes widen at his words and there’s a pregnant pause of silence and a nervous exchange of looks.

Will clears his throat, “Did we fuck up?”

“The opposite,” Apollo lets out a shaky chuckle. “I guess the boss likes the numbers recently, and says we’ve been meeting our quotas faster than his other locations.“

Silence follows.

“He asked what we were doing differently, and I told him we hired Y/n.”

God, you can sense the weight of every gaze in the room turning towards you, and a rush of warmth floods your cheeks. You haven’t even had a chance to meet the boss yet, yet the anxiety churning inside you matches the tension in the air.

“I guess he wants to drop by tonight and check things out.”

You were pretty sure if someone dropped a pin, you’d hear it. The silence is honestly terrifying how a random trip from the big boss can result in these big brawny men becoming nervous wrecks.

“He wants to come here?” Carl asks and blows out the last bit of smoke from his cigarette before crushing the butt into an ashtray on the table.

“Uh-huh.”

“Tonight?”

“Yep.”

“Well, shit…”

———

The energy in the room has completely shifted in the last hour. Not even Carl hasn’t said a word in a while. He’s been assembling different rifles for the past twenty minutes in complete silence.

Was the boss that intimidating? It’s not like you guys didn’t do your jobs, in fact, Apollo even said the boss was impressed with the work being done.

“Y/n.” Apollo says and gently grabs your shoulder, leading you away from the others.

“Hm?”

“I need you to be sharp tonight, okay?” He tells you, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m not trying to lecture you at all cause you’re a grown-ass woman, but you haven’t met Sylus yet. He can be…”

“…scary?”

“Yeah.”

“So I’ve heard.” You answer with a tight-lipped smile.

“Now he’s interested in meeting you.”

“Wait, you’re saying he wants to talk to me?” You start to chew on your lip.

Apollo is silent for a moment. “Just be confident and respectful with your responses, okay? No sassiness either. This isn’t break time with the boys, understand?”

You nod. “I understand.”

“Good.” He pats your shoulder and walks up the metal stairs to the second level. “Boys, the boss doesn’t need to see your fucking candy wrappers on the floor! Pick it up, now!”

You’ve never seen Apollo this worked up in the three months of working with him.

———

About an hour passed after the candy wrapper fiasco. Everyone has calmed down a little bit since then. Freddy wondered if the boss had gotten caught up in another assassination attempt and wouldn’t be stopping by tonight.

That hypothesis went straight into the trash when the headlights on a fancy car pulled up to the warehouse. Will, the acting doorman, was the one who alerted everyone and now the tension has slowly increased once again.

Carl was still assembling the rifles stiffly. Freddy busied himself by tweaking the silencer on a pistol, while Tony was unloading the newest shipment onto the shelves.

Grabbing your clipboard and pen, you walked over to Tony to count the inventory. He nods at you and gives you a small smile.

“Don’t worry, kid. If you can win Will over, the boss is nothing.”

You only give him a nervous chuckle.

“Okay, we got six cases of ammo. Four scopes for the rifles...”

——

Apollo exits from his office and up the metal stairs to the mezzanine platform of the warehouse.

Will opens the door for the boss, the heavy door creaking in response. The boss’s large frame is revealed and he stands eye to eye with Will.

“Sir.” Will lowers his head as he passes, beginning to close the door.

“Don’t shut the door on Mephisto.”

Will pauses and the crow caws as a warning before flying in and landing on his owner's shoulder.

“Mr. Sylus.” Apollo nods his head, hoping his boss didn’t just see the bead of sweat drip from his forehead and fall to the floor.

“Apollo,” Sylus’s voice drawls out calmly, yet his tone leaves no room for anything other than business. “I’ve been hearing good things recently.”

Apollo clears his throat as if to shove away the last of his nerves. “Yes, sir. Our numbers have been exceptionally well and so far- the best we’ve seen.”

Sylus hums in contentment.

“Shall we discuss the numbers in my office?”

——

“Was that a bird?” You ask, looking away from the clipboard as Tony unloads the last of the shipment.

Tony wipes the back of his neck with a rag. “Yeah, the boss has this robot raven thing he built. It’s pretty cool.”

You hum, “So it’s like a pet..?”

“Pet, secret murder weapon, an annoying little thing he is.” Tony counts out on his fingers.

“Wait, it’s a murder weapon?” You lower your voice and step in closer, curious.

Tony nods. “I think so, I heard he shoots laser beams out of his eyes and he has a razor-sharp beak.”

Your mind fills with all the stories you’ve heard on the streets again. “Woah, that’s crazy.”

“Living here… it’s necessary. You should know, sweetheart. That can of pepper spray will only take you so far.”

“Lucky to say I haven’t even needed to use it.” You respond.

“Not yet.”

“Tony,” you warn and raise an eyebrow.

“I’m just saying, you’re a pretty young thing and humans are sick creatures. It wouldn’t kill you to let us teach you how to at least shoot a gun. Hell, I’ll even get you a pink one if you’d like.”

You give him a small laugh and start scrawling notes on your clipboard. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll let you guys know when I’m ready.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay.”

“But you were saying I could get it in pink, right?”

——

“How are Laura and the kids?” Sylus asks, picking up the small photo frame.

Apollo looks at Sylus, confused for a moment but slowly relaxes. “Uhh, Laura’s good. She just got a promotion at her firm. Nora just got into that preschool we were looking at and David won his soccer tournament.”

“Good, good.” Sylus walks around and picks up a rubber band ball on his desk. He tosses it in the air a few times. “You guys were able to pay off your debt, correct?”

“Yes, sir. As of last month. Now we’re just saving for college.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir.”

When Sylus met Apollo, he was nothing more than a drug addict in severe debt. He was hired by the previous manager on the spot when Onychinus bought out the warehouse. Laura was only his girlfriend at the time and their relationship was hanging by a thread. Apollo had a rather nasty attitude at the time, as one would when their life was falling into pieces. He said the wrong thing at the wrong time when Sylus came to visit and Apollo earned himself the beating of his life.

Though it sounds cruel, Apollo says it's the wake-up call he needed. He moved Laura out of the N109 Zone when he had saved up enough money and worked on staying clean. Throughout the next few months, they worked on their relationship, family, and stability.

Sylus paces Apollo’s office. His eyes drift to the computer sitting on his desk, the security feed open.

“That’s her?” Sylus asks as his sharp crimson eyes lock onto the young woman holding a clipboard.

“Yep, she’s picked up things relatively quickly and it leaves me more time to handle our clients. An extra pair of hands is always nice, didn’t know it would help so much.”

“So she’s reliable?”

“Oh, a hundred percent. She gets along with the guys pretty well, too. Luckily, a lot of the stuff we do here is routine so it was easy for her to learn.”

“Even with Will?”

“Even with Will.”

Sylus hums, a bit surprised.

“And her background?”

“Well, she worked at a bar before,” Apollo says and shifts from one foot to the other.

“A bar?”

“Mhm, her boss was just a piece of shit. I thought it would be better to get her out of there.”

“I’m surprised in you, Apollo.” A smirk hangs lazily on Sylus’s face. “I wasn’t aware you picked up strays.”

“I wouldn’t call her a stray,” he chuckles nervously. “Just lost in a way. It sucks seeing someone so young stuck down here.”

“Does she at least shoot well?”

“Well, she’s never actually held a gun before.”

Sylus raises a brow. “She does know she works in weaponry, correct?”

“Yes, sir. She’s aware.” Apollo gives a nervous chuckle. “I just have her handle the inventory and idle paperwork.”

“Just be careful, Apollo,” Sylus warns and stands up straight and heads for the door. “You know this business is risky and dangerous. She’s a sitting duck out there. I know you want to play the savior to help her, but if anything happens, her blood is all over your hands.”

Apollo’s eyes shift down, staring at his scuffed work boots. There have been some minor incidents over the years, but luckily nothing too fatal.

“I understand, sir.”

Sylus nods and reaches for the door handle. “I’ll be in touch. Teach her how to defend herself.”

It’s an order.

“Yes sir.”

——

Your brain wracks through the listed supplies of inventory. It’s not adding up.

“Dammit.” You shuffle through the papers one last time and mentally count the boxes you’ve received.

“What are we missing?” Tony asks and peeks over your shoulder.

You huff in frustration. “A case of bullets, the ones laced with the neurotoxins.”

Tony quickly scans the inventory and your paperwork as well, and he visibly stiffens. “That’s not a mistake. We’ve had our stuff tampered with before.”

“You think it’s shady?” You ask and start to chew your lip.

“Look where ya workin’, sweetheart.” Tony sighs heavily and hands you back the clipboard. “Best go tell Apollo.”

“Umm, isn’t he with the boss right now?”

“Best he hears it, too.”

Your eyes lock onto Tony’s deep brown ones, a pleading look on your face as he laughs, the creases in his eyes scrunching up.

“Go on up, kid. It’s about time you know who you're working for.”

You force your feet to move and follow Tony’s command. The palms of your hands are starting to sweat at this point and your mind runs over the conversation from earlier with the boys.

I heard he took out a group of assassins with just the snap of his fingers.

“Maybe I should wait to tell him,” you wonder aloud quietly as you approach the opening door.

You didn’t react quickly enough, your instincts catching you off guard. As you turned the corner, you collided with another person, a startled gasp escaping your lips. The unexpected force knocked you back, and you felt your waist connect sharply with the cold metal railing behind you. The sturdy barrier wobbled but held firm. For a moment, you were caught off balance, heart racing as you took in the stranger before you.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” By the time your eyes focus on the person, you know you’ve messed up.

The man raises a pointed eyebrow at you, a visible frown on his face. Cold eyes bore into your skull, and you feel a burning heat rush to your face as your wide eyes lock onto his.

The man towered over six feet tall, exuding a commanding presence. He wore a luxurious silk shirt that shimmered faintly in the light, and you vividly recalled the sensation of it brushing against your cheek when you accidentally bumped into him. Draped casually over his shoulders was a tailored blazer, the fabric hugging his muscular frame perfectly. His hair was meticulously styled, a striking blend of pale milk and ashen hues, with a few rebellious strands falling just above his intense crimson eyes, which seemed to glow with an intriguing mixture of fire and intensity.

In every way, he defied the rumors that swirled around him. Far from the decrepit figure one might expect, he looked only a handful of years older than you. Moreover, he carried an allure that was impossible to ignore; he wasn’t just handsome—his features were striking, with sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline that added to his undeniable charm.

“You must be the new girl.” The man’s husky voice is calculated as he scans over you.

You swallow hard, trying to find some moisture in your mouth to properly form words. “Uhm, yes, sir.”

Your hand stretches out to create more distance between you two and you tell him your name.

“Sylus.” He shakes your hand.

“Y/n.” Apollo’s voice calls out from behind Sylus. “Everything okay?”

Blood flows through your cheeks again as both men now lock onto you.

“Tony and I were going through the shipment and we noticed something missing. I wouldn’t normally bug you about this especially while Mr. Sylus is here, but it’s the case of bullets with neurotoxins.”

Apollo cursed and ran his hand through his hair. Sylus’s eyes shift away from you, seemingly lost in thought.

“Hm.” Sylus strokes his chin. “There was another location report missing items, too, but this might be more of an issue than I realized.”

“I’ll be in touch, Apollo.” His eyes meet yours again and you feel a swirl in your tummy. “Keep an eye out for me, Y/n. I hope to see more of you in the future.”

You nod and smile politely.

He turns around and calls something out behind him. A black blur zips out of Apollo’s office and lands on his shoulder.

So that’s the bird.

You can hear the mechanical gears whirl and shift as the bird's head turns to stare at you; its bright scarlet eyes matching its owners. The bird's head cocks to the side before cawing as Sylus walks out of the building.

——

The walk home was the same as any other night. You kick dirt up as you walk the old and empty road.

Apollo said the meeting went well with Sylus after he left. He likes the numbers, the work ethic, and the team. Aside from you bumping into him, which the guys teased you to hell and back over, Apollo told you that you did just fine.

However, you can see where the guys are coming from when they say Sylus is scary. Just one look had your palms sweaty and mouth dry.

Apollo had also informed you it was time they start training you, which you politely declined. You appreciate the guys looking after you, but you just didn’t feel comfortable.

Then your mind wanders to the missing case of ammo. Those are deadly bullets. While any bullet can be deadly, the neurotoxin-laced bullets are essentially coated in a substance that will either paralyze you or slowly poison you no matter the point of entry. Sylus said something about it possibly being something more than just a coincidence, especially with the other location missing their cases too.

The large buildings and towers now surround you as your feet step off the dirt path and onto the chipped sidewalk.

A sudden caw catches your attention. Curiously, you look up and see a bird perched on the head of a street lamp. The familiar scarlet eyes glimmer under the moon's light. What is Sylus’s bird doing out here?

Just a few more blocks.

Pieces of crumbled paper drift through the street from the chilling breeze. Cars were honking at each other a few streets over, which made you start to pick up your pace.

Continuing with your trek home, you feel something off in the energy surrounding you. With a glance over your shoulder, you miss the hand coming out of the alley and grabbing you by the back of your jacket.

On instinct, you release a scream, but the person is quick to cover your mouth. Your back is shoved against the jagged brick of the building and the person draws out a small revolver.

“Empty your pockets.” The gruff voice orders and clicks the safety off of the gun.

With shaking hands, you struggle to pull out your things.

“Faster!” He orders. “Or I’ll pull the fucking trigger.”

Your throat tightens up and tears blur your vision, making it even harder to see in the dark alley. Once your phone and wallet are visible, he snatches them quickly and opens your wallet. Cards, your ID, and even coins litter the ground as he rifles through.

“That’s it, no cash?” He shakes the gun, the metal rattling slightly. “You have to have something else.”

“I-I don’t, I swear. That’s all I have.” You choke out, forcing yourself to heave in a big breath as the tears mercilessly fall.

The man curses again and shoves you against the wall, the force knocking the wind out of you. "I can always get another form of compensation, sweetheart."

The back of his hand traces down your cheek and you whimper.

You grimace and choke out another sob as you grab the can of pepper spray hidden in the other pocket of your pants. Without another moment, you press down on the red trigger.

"Fuck!" The man hisses, his voice laced with anger and disbelief as he instinctively recoils, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the stinging spray of liquid that drips down his face like hot wax. The acrid smell fills the air, mixing with the adrenaline surging through your veins. Seizing the moment, you thrust him off you with all your strength and dart past him, heart pounding in your chest. But before you can escape, he recovers quickly, grasping your wrist with a vice-like grip that sends shockwaves of fear coursing through you.

"Little bitch!"

He raises his hand and strikes your face, your head snapping to the side as ringing echoes in your ears.

Through red tears, he reaches for the gun again, struggling to get a hold of the piece.

Before he can properly pull on the trigger, a caw rings out.

A black blur of mechanical feathers swoops down and swipes at the man.

"Ah-!" He cries out as a deep gash runs across the side of his neck, the blood leaking from the wound like a waterfall.

The bird lets out another caw before attacking the man again. Its beak continues to peck and pierce at his face, eventually bringing him down to the ground. During the scuffle, the bird briefly pauses to stare at you and caws again, as if urging you to run.

You understand the message and use the rest of your adrenaline to run the rest of the way home.

----

The next day before work, you used the best of your makeup abilities to cover the bruises on your face. Luckily, the guy didn't give you a black eye, just bruising and minor swelling on your cheek.

Your phone and wallet were still gone, too. You'd have to dip into your slowly rising savings account to afford a new one. Even after you've been so careful not to touch it.

You keep your head down as you clock in and don't greet any of the guys as you walk in. The second they see you, it's going to be countless 'I told you so's,' and you just weren't in the mood to deal with it. You couldn't even get any sleep last night, too scared to keep your eyes closed for long which only added to the fatigue on your body.

"Y/n?" A hand is placed on your shoulder, making you jump.

"Woah, sorry, kid," Apollo says. "You okay?"

"Uh, yeah I'm fine, sorry." You respond, keeping your head down as you turn slightly.

"Then look me in the eye."

Shit.

"No, the floor looks pretty good right now."

"Y/n." Not the dad voice. "I already know."

Hesitantly, you turn around and meet Apollo's eyes. His expression is stoic as his eyes quickly scan over the poorly covered bruise on your cheek.

"C'mon, kid." He throws an arm around your shoulder and leads you to his office. You notice the others quickly glancing in your direction, but quickly looking away when your eyes meet theirs.

Tony was muttering some choice words, while Freddy and Carlos hushed their words as you walked by. Will remained silent, bowing his head as you passed him.

How the hell do they already all know?

Apollo shuts the door of his office behind him and gestures for you to sit.

You take a seat on the chair across from his desk while he reaches into the mini-fridge underneath the cabinets. He pulls out an ice pack and hands it to you.

You swallow hard and take the frozen block from him, carefully pressing it against your cheek.

Apollo sits across from you. "You want to tell me what happened?"

You bite your lip and beg for the tears not to come again. You've already spent so much time crying last night. Slowly, you shake your head.

"Okay." He nods. "Can you just tell me one thing?"

Your eyes meet his concerned ones.

"Did he..." Apollo trails off, not wanting to finish his sentence.

"No." You quickly tell him, already knowing the question. He lets out a sigh of relief.

There's a pregnant silence in the office, safe for your sniffling.

"H-how did you find out?"

"Mephisto."

"Who?"

"The boss's bird."

"Oh."

Why was Mephisto there last night? Was it simply the right place at the right time?

"Listen, you're more than welcome to take some time off if you need to. I'm really surprised you still came in, I tried to call you earlier-"

"My phone was stolen." You cut him off. "My wallet, too."

"Go home," Apollo tells you. "Get some rest, get yourself situated."

"But-"

"No."

"I'm not one of your kids, Apollo."

"The hell you're not." He challenges.

You stay quiet.

“Look, we just want you to take care of yourself mentally,” Apollo says before his phone rings. He looks at the caller ID and frowns. “Hang tight, kiddo. Keep the icepack on your face.”

“Mr. Sylus?” He answers, placing the phone to his ear and pointing to the runny ice pack that you had placed in your lap. You grumble and place the icepack back onto the tender skin and turn slightly in the chair as a way to give him some privacy, only picking up bits and pieces of the conversation.

“Yes, sir, she’s with me.”

“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Got it, okay, I’ll let her know.”

Apollo places the phone back on his desk, the sound knocking you out of your thoughts. “Sylus has your phone and wallet. Mephisto picked them up after the guy bled out.”

Your eyes widen.

“He’s dead?”

“Would you rather him not be?”

"Well, I just thought..." Your words trail off. Did you want him to be dead?

Yes, no, maybe so?

The man was seconds away from taking your life, why would you feel bad someone else took his?

"I think you're forgetting who you work for, Y/n," Apollo tells you. "Sylus doesn't tolerate an attack on anyone who works for him. When I said we look out for each other, I meant it."

Slowly, you nod your head.

"How can I get my stuff back?" You ask and pull the icepack away from your bruised face, the cooling sensation beginning to irritate your skin.

"Sylus asked that you meet him at Onychinus's base. He wants to begin your training as soon as possible."

——

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[erodasfishtacos]

Threadbare - I ||FWB!H||

prompt: yn avoids because she doesn't know what else to do

word count: 3.2k

warnings: angst, cheating

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The transition in being friends to friends with benefits was surprisingly smooth for the impressively big amount of lack of communication, lack of resolution, and all over how much was swept under the rug instead of address.

It’s was a quiet tension between them that was sometimes sexual tension, sometimes angsty.

They couldn’t wait for trivia to be over so they could get their hands on each other or this other.

It was not as pleasant when someone mentioned Lauren or Ben.

How if someone brought up Lauren, YN’s eyes would automatically dart to Harry to see his reaction and she didn’t miss the ways his jaw clenched when Ben was brought up.

It wasn’t a mutual agreement of not talking about these things, acting like them coming together was conventional or that everytime they went out with their friends - they didn't tell them.

They held this secret between them, not only that they were currently hooking up but what transpired that weekend at the lake house.

Neither of them were that kind of person, who would step out on their partner, or cross boundaries they shouldn’t when they’re in a committed relationship but apparently they were that kind of people - both of them.

YN knows there is nuance.

She knows neither her nor Harry were happy in their relationship.

She knew that Lauren treated Harry like shit nearly a ninety-percent of the time.

Ben had never been all that great after the love-bombing phase was done which she had fell for the flowers and the random grand gestures.

It didn’t make it okay.

YN always had a bit of a crush on Harry.

He was a bit more attentive to her than he was to any other females in the friend group but she’d never looked into that or fed into that too much.

She brushed it off on the fact that she had a (now looking back) massive crush on him that she didn’t want to actually acknowledge because she shouldn’t have a crush on someone who’s in a relationship as she’s in a relationship with someone else.

It was fucked up.

The rest of the time of at the lake house was tense after YN had bolted from the pool, leaving Harry mid-apology but knowing better than to chase after her.

He hadn’t bothered her again - even as they both were in different rooms in the same big summer house.

She could hear him in the kitchen, starting the blender, he had to be able to hear when she turned on the shower but there was silence between them.

And it disappointed her, selfishly, she wanted there to be a knock on the bedroom door, another conversation, something from Harry.

But she was the one who ran, who made it clear that what happened wasn’t good, and YN has always struggled with avoidance, it why she hasn’t broken up with Ben.

She hated confrontation and uncomfortable situations to a fault.

Being socially anxious was in her bloodstream, and having hard conversations was like pulling teeth without being numbed first.

So the second Harry had pulled his hand back, his mouth opening to discuss what just happened - there was no other option for YN then to just avoid, flee so that she didn’t have to talk about it.

YN doesn’t come out of her bedroom for the rest of the night.

Her heart’s in her stomach because even if she doesn’t want to be with Ben, there was guilt for liking what just happened with Harry.

She couldn’t get it out of her mind when he’s cupped her breast, when the rough pad of his thumb had nudged over her nipple.

It was fucked up that her thighs were wet at the thought, at the way his eyes had honed in on her, and how fucking turned on he looked as he reached out to touch her.

She’d never felt that kind of arousal in her life and it wasn’t right, she wasn’t expecting it with Harry when she had long ago deemed him out of her league.

YN wasn’t asleep by the time that Ben stumbled in, drunk and clueless to the internal crisis of self she was having.

She kept her eyes squeezed shut when she felt him looking at her.

Determining whether she was asleep or not, and mumbled some intelligible before he was stumbling out of his clothes and crawling into bed - promptly passing out even while YN struggled to calm her mind.

+

YN knew she was making everything worse.

She knew that she needed to talk to Harry but avoidance was easier.

It was easier to not make eye contact with him when everyone clmabered downstairs in the morning.

It was easier to sit as far away as possible from him at the table when they all ate breakfast, and made sure not to look at him.

YN could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face.

She could tell that he was staring at her, willing her to look at him, and she wanted him to stop because he was being obvious - or at least she felt like he was drawing attention to the situation but if anyone notices, nobody say anything.

Then they’re down by the lake, YN’s laying on a lounger on the dock, soaking up the sun, and trying to warm up before getting into the water which was chiller than she usually liked.

It was peaceful until she can feel the wood of the dock start to tremble next to her until someone is sitting on the chair opposite her.

YN has sunglasses on that were big enough to hide her eyes completely, dark enough that he couldn’t see.

She blinked her eyes open to Harry looking at her with an unfamiliar look on his face, she didn’t know what he was feeling but he definitely wanted her attention.

YN sits up as Harry hands her something, his voice quiet and unsure, “You’ve got to reapply, you’re gettin’ burnt.”

“Thanks,” YN takes it from him, making sure their hands don’t touch even though she can acknowledge that it’s dramatic.

Even if she’s being short outward, internally there were butterflies tumbling around in her belly that he was even paying attention to her like this.

Apparently her standards were incredibly low because Ben would never do something like this.

He wouldn’t have noticed in the first place, nor used any amount of energy to go up to the house to get the bottle of sunscreen.

“Think I grabbed the right one, you said the one in the blue bottle irritates your skin, right?” Harry checks, he’s off, subdued.

YN didn’t like it but she couldn’t bring it up, they couldn’t talk about it where anyone could hear them.

The thoughtfulness, the fact that he listened when she made that off-handed comment the other day when Ben handed her the blue bottle.

“This is the right one,” YN agrees lamely, taking it out of his hand, they were both skating on uncertainty.

“You ignored me at breakfast,” Harry observes, suddenly on topic to what they really need to talk about.

And YN knows her eyes must have widened like a deer about to be hit by oncoming headlights because she wasn’t ready to have this conversation.

“Didn’t mean to,” YN lies, it wasn’t even a good one but she could feel this uneasiness starting to churn in her stomach because at the end of the day, she had this stupid fucking crush on Harry.

And now she’s seemingly on track to continuously make herself look like an immature little girl who can’t have a conversation.

Harry’s brow furrows at that, huffing with a shake of his head, “Okay. I guess it’s just in my head then.”

And YN didn’t want to gaslight him either.

Fuck.

“I-” YN doesn’t know what to say, swallowing harshly as toys with the sunblock bottle, “It’s not…in your head. I - don’ know.”

It wasn’t graceful or intelligent whatsoever, she felt tongue-tied suddenly at having to explain her poor behavior.

“I would like to talk to you about yesterday,” Harry replies, his tone is neutral, unreadable.

She'd rather not have a conversation about him apologizing, saying it was a mistake, that he wasn’t thinking, that it didn’t mean anything.

She was going to actively avoid the conversation at all fucking costs.

“Not…here,” YN glances around, no one was directly by them but it wasn’t the place to have it - in active eyeline of both of their significant others.

“You will talk to me about it though?” Harry persists, his fingertips are digging into his knees, she knows

it's

absurd but it looks like he’s actively resisting reaching out and touching her.

YN nods, the guilt revving back up because she knows she’s going to do whatever to avoid it, to not have all of her false hopes and dreams crushed.

He was out of her league, he had a gorgeous girlfriend, he was in a committed relationship, and she was too - it was stupid for her to even entertain the idea.

“Yeah, just not here,” YN agrees weakly, she wonders if he can tell she’s not being truthful with him, if he’ll call her out on it.

“Please just know that -” Harry starts to say, leaning in a bit closer in a way that wasn’t inappropriate but made if more difficult for anyone to overhear.

“Harry! Stop bullshitting and get me a fuckin’ drink!” Lauren interrupts obnxiously from the water.

By the slur of her words, she already had enough alcohol pumping through her veins, and the way she demanded from Harry wasn’t anything new but it never got easier to hear him being barked orders to.

The rest of their friends laugh, like it’s funny how Lauren talks to him.

But by the subtle sharp edge to her tone and the way that Harry’s eyes instantly go dark, his nose scrunching slightly in disgust before he hides it shows just how unfunny that interaction is.

Maybe because she sees too much of herself in Harry in that way.

Ben barking at her for things and she just does it to avoid conflict or arguements.

Nothing was funny about it.

++

YN unsurprisingly doesn’t stick to her word, Harry seeks her out two times during the day to try to talk to her.

The first time YN gets flustered, makes up an excuse about having to use the bathroom, and promptly hides in the bathroom for a good twenty minutes.

The second time, YN suddenly gets very busy helping set up the volleyball net when she notices Harry starting to make his way towards her.

And she knows by the end of the night, his patience is wearing thin - purely based off of the unamused glances he gives her.

The way he’s not anywhere near as talkative as he normally is, and his general demeanor is off - even their friends call him out a few times on it.

Now, she’s nervous to talk to him because of the fact that he’s getting annoyed with her.

She truly keeps digging the hole she’s stepped into deeper and deeper until it feels entirely impossible to pull herself up out of without ramifications.

It wasn’t until late, it was nearly eleven, and their night was in full swing.

The bonfire was blazing, everyone had alcohol flooding their systems except for YN and Harry.

YN wasn’t naturally a big drinker but tonight, she was far too uneasy to think about even sipping anything.

Whereas Harry had a beer or two but he’d been nursing them slowly, enough that he wouldn’t feel any effects of it.

YN feels like the walls were closing in around her.

The conversation was going to come, Harry seemed determined by this point, and YN has probably just made this whole situation worse by not having the conversation in the first place.

YN sneaks away to the bathroom in the house, the second floor one because it was one that no one was allowed to throw up in if they drank too much.

She did it while Harry was in the middle of a volleyball game, and she really didn’t think he’d dip out to have the conversation or pull away from the group because it would surely be suspicious if YN and Harry randomly disappeared around the same time.

But YN is wrong.

God, she’s so wrong.

Because when there’s a knock at the door, YN’s first thought is that it’s Georgia, so without thinking she opens it.

But standing there is a very very unhappy looking Harry who’s lips are in a firm line, his brows drawn inward, and his voice is rougher than usual when he says, “Time to talk.”

“What do you want?” YN has the nerve to huff, surprised by her own attitude as she steps backwards, and Harry follows her in, shutting the door, and locking it behind him.

She wants to point out that this looks so entirely shady, that they should have this conversation not in a locked room, in a house alone but she cannot find it in her to care to point that out nor does she wants to.

“I want you to stop avoiding me,” Harry replies as he crosses his arms, standing towards the door and allowing YN to put some distance between them.

There was this sick, twisted thrill shooting arousal up her spine that she was able to rile him up, get a reaction, it meant in some capacity that he cared at least a bit about her.

When Ben was mad - it turned her off completely but something about the sharp, defined cut of Harry’s clenched jaw, the puffiness of his bottom lip from his front teeth digging into it.

He looked fucking hot when he was pissed and that’s when YN realized she is in deep shit because fuck, she smitten.

“I’m not,” YN replies stubbornly, mirroring his posture by crossing her arms and popping her hip to the side, tongue poking at the inside of her cheek.

Harry looks like he wants to sink his teeth into her- she’d never seen him like this and it was fucked up but she wanted more.

Harry finally smiles but it’s not his normally, boyish grin.

It’s intimidating, sharp and dangerous, his dimples popping as he tilts his head, “I didn’t ask you if you were avoiding me. I’m telling you what you were doing. I’m done with it, we need to talk. Understood?”

And if YN could rub her thighs together without it being obnoxious she would.

It’s twisted, he’s clearly upset and she’s better than no man, thirsting over the way the vein at the side of his neck bulges, his biceps look massive as they flex, and his eyes are sparkling with fury.

“I’m sorry,” Harry takes a deep inhale, calming slightly as he becomes a tad bit more lax in his posture, “It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable and it was completely out of line for me to do. I take full accountability and I’m so fucking sorry for putting you in an uncomfortable position.”

YN takes a minute to process it because…it wasn’t the apology or the regret she was expecting to hear from him.

It wasn’t necessarily rejection.

It was genuine remorse.

“You…I’m the one who showed you them,” YN replies slowly, more confused than ever, and the arousal fizzles when she notices how distraught Harry is underneath hsis cool demeanor.

“I should have never asked. I should have never put you in a position where you felt like you had to-”

“I didn’t feel pressured or uncomfortable, Harry. I’m an adult who made decisions too,” YN points out because it was on both of them, they both participated equally in the bad behavior.

“Then why did you run away? I thought it was because I made you uncomfortable,” Harry’s shoulder slump slightly in relief, his arms uncross but he doesn’t step forward even if she wants him too, even though she shouldn’t want him to.

“I was scared,” YN admits quietly, she has to look away for a moment because his gaze was so fucking intense.

“What were you scared of, Honey?” Harry pushes, he takes a step forward, lessening the space in the small area but they still weren’t touching, and her heart was starting to fully pound like she was running a marathon.

YN finally blinks at him, teeth dug into her lip, debating whether she should tell him the blunt truth - gauging whether that will just lead to rejection but the way he’s looking at her, it makes her want to risk it, say ‘fuck it’.

“Of how much I wanted it,” YN’s voice is barely above a whisper but he could hear it in the otherwise silent house.

“Wanted what,” Harry’s voice is deeper, rougher, and it’s an almost a demand like he needs to know, that it’s not optional.

“Harry-” YN resists, barely hanging onto her morals with a fucking thread, and waiting for him to cut the string.

And he fucking does.

“Tell me, tell what you wanted so badly,” Harry pushes, his fingers are clenching like earlier, he has to restrain himself from reaching out at her.

“It scared me how badly I wanted you to touch me, wanted your hands on me, on my tits, on…yeah,” YN trails off, sheepish and her cheeks were so fucking hot in embarassment at what she’d just said, admitted.

It’s faster than YN can process, the way Harry strides forward, and handles her - twisting her roughly until she’s pinned against the wall across from the sink, it’s tight and their bodies are pressed flushed.

His lips aren’t on hers but they’re ghosting close enough that if they moved even an inch they would brush.

“Tell me I can,” Harry murmurs, there’s this sweet, desperate, needy plea in it that makes her knees weak, “ I wan’na, so bad, honey.”

YN swallows harshly, losing all sense of why this is wrong, and she finds her hands coming to his hair - gripping there and puling his mouth to hers, “Yeah, yes. You can have it.”

[angelhyun]

partition - ljn

[a/n]: yes, i got the title from the beyoncé song LOL enjoyyy ;)

pairing: bodyguard!lee jeno x afab!celebrity!reader

[wc]: 3k

-> cw: smut, car foreplay, oral (f receiving), fingering, come eating, slight degradation and voyeurism (18+, mdni)

prelude: It's hard to keep your composure as a celebrity, especially when you're constantly surrounded by your bodyguard, who is everything you want in a man and more. He's quiet, protective, and professional, but you're positive that all he sees you as is a spoiled brat. There's no way he'd be into that...right?

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It’s late and you’ve just finished up your photoshoot, changing out of the uncomfortable dress the brand had you model in. You’ve been tirelessly tugging at the zipper for the past few minutes, but it just wouldn’t budge. You were considering yanking it down, but you didn’t want to risk destroying the dress. You break it, you buy it, and you knew you never wanted to wear this thing ever again. 

Frustrated, you peek out from behind the curtain, seeing all of the makeup artists and staff occupied with tidying up. “Shit…” you whisper, more than ready to step out and inconvenience them. Finally, your gaze meets your bodyguard’s– Lee Jeno. He was leaning up against the wall in his suit, also quite tired, but he perked up once he caught hold of your gaze. His eyebrows shot up in concern as you beckoned him over, but he obliged nonetheless, taking long confident strides in your direction.

You found him so hot. Too hot to be real, quite frankly. His captivating features and Superman-like build had you in a chokehold, and it pained you that you couldn’t act on it, afraid he’d freak out and quit his job. Then you’d be stuck with some other lame bodyguard who definitely wouldn’t be as likable as Jeno was. Looks aside, he was a great guy and excelled at his task–keeping you safe.

Your eyes widened slightly when you realized he was now standing right in front of you, trying his best to keep his gaze lowered in respect due to your slight indecency. “Need anything, Miss?” he asks, his deep voice slightly quieter than usual. He was always a bit timid, but usually had more conviction when he spoke. You guessed it was due to the circumstances at hand. “Yeah, actually. This damn zipper won’t budge,” you whined. He was used to this, knowing you were a very high maintenance woman. Though, he never complained. “I’ve been tugging on it forever, I swear this is the last time I’m coming here. Could you please help me?” 

He swallows as you turn around, the zipper already halfway down your back, but trailing lower than he anticipated. He clears his throat, knowing he had to stay professional. “Of course.” he replies, his hand hovering over the middle of your back. He inhales, grabbing hold of the metal, tugging it down in one slight movement. 

“Oh,” you say, embarrassed. “Guess it likes you better. Thanks.” you wallow in self-pity at that lame joke you used to try and break the tension that was most definitely one-sided on your end. He simply nods and walks away, leaving you to finish changing. You close the curtain, internally tweaking out over how his touch lingered on your lower back. You were definitely wide awake now. Using this newfound energy–or adrenaline–you finish getting changed and gather all of your belongings, saying goodbye to everyone you worked with on set.

—

You walk out of the studio with Jeno by your side as always. He walks you to your car, well-equipped with a personal driver of course. You watch as he quickens his pace once you both approach the car, opening the door for you. Maybe chivalry isn’t totally dead. You manage to thank him quietly with a small smile despite the awkwardness that occurred only moments prior as he shuts your door, walking around to the other side of the vehicle, sliding in next to you. 

He signals the driver to pull out of the lot, knowing you both had a decently long ride back to the hotel and it was already quite late. You couldn’t stand the silence, moping in the newly installed leather seats which were your signature colour, of course. Turning to Jeno, you meet his gaze–him already looking at you with dilated eyes–catching both of you by surprise, in which he responds by quickly looking away. You try to hide your smile, deciding that the earlier tension you felt in the dressing room was definitely reciprocated. 

“Did you enjoy the shoot?” he asks, his deep yet sincere voice once again breaking the silence. You liked the quiet confidence he had. “It wasn’t too bad. I liked the environment, the staff, the line–well, everything but that last dress." you laugh softly, purposely bringing it up again in hopes of getting a reaction from him. To your surprise, his lips twist up into the hottest smirk you’ve ever seen. He looks back at you, a glint of something foreign in his eyes. “Really? I thought it looked great from where I was standing.” he compliments, and you feel those damn butterflies again. 

“Me or the dress?” you decide to match his subtle flirting, not missing what was the opportunity of a lifetime to you. “You in the dress.” he answers smoothly, maintaining that eye contact. You could already feel your arousal dampening your panties with how he was practically eye-fucking you in the confined space of the vehicle’s backseat. “I mean, it was pretty but it was also really uncomfortable. I’m glad you were there to help me out of it.” you add, truly testing the waters. How he replied to this determined everything.

“Anytime.” he answers nonchalantly. “What?” you question, voice steady. “I said, anytime. It was my pleasure.” he repeats. Oh, that was it. You knew what you wanted and you were going to get it now. He also knows you. Staying by your side practically every waking minute of the day has its benefits, and he can tell you’re ready to jump his bones. Seeing your face when he lets your hookups in and out of your room let him know exactly how you look when you’re needy, and he’s getting hard from the way he can practically read you like a book right now. That’s how he knew exactly what you were about to do. 

“Driver–” you were cut off by Jeno unbuckling his seatbelt, leaning over the console to press the button to roll up the partition himself, as you were about to instruct the driver to. He leans back in his seat, looking at you with his eyes glazed over. Recovering from him practically reading your mind so accurately, you look at him in a slight daze, snapping out of it when you see him pat his lap. 

You immediately unbuckle your belt, straddling the man you’ve wanted all this time. His big strong hands immediately find place on your hips, pulling you in closer to him. He leans in, breath fanning against your ear, making your heart beat faster. “I know you like to have things your way all the time like a little brat, but that’s not how I operate, princess. I’m gonna give you all I got, and you’re gonna take it, okay?” he asks, his voice rasps with need. Your mouth goes dry, but your panties are quite opposite. 

“What happened to that big mouth of yours? So quiet, I’ve never seen you like this. You’re usually so loud and verbal with all your other boy toys, what happened now?” he taunts, shocking you to your core. You didn’t know he had such a mouth on him either, but you weren’t going to take it for granted. Your arms that were draped over his shoulders grip his broad frame tighter, moving yourself against his lap impatiently. He lets out a soft groan at that, giving you a look that could kill. “Oh, you wanna be naughty now?” he asks lowly. 

You shake your head, unsure of what to do or say. Most men you’ve slept with would’ve been inside of you by now, driven by their desperation, wanting to live out their fantasy of fucking their favourite celebrity. Jeno taking his time with you was so new and it had you practically malfunctioning, already dumbed down by a dick that wasn’t in you yet. You lean into his touch as he gently cups the side of your face in one of his hands, understanding your inner turmoil. “I just want you to let me know you really want this too. Just one word, princess. Just say yes.” he says softly, but almost desperately, his desire seeping through his words.

“Yes.” you say almost instantly, and his lips are on yours. He kisses you with pent up frustration and lust that he hid out of respect for you. Knowing you felt the same way all this time was an additional turn on for him, his hand travelling up your side to grab the back of your head, deepening the kiss. His lips were relentless, bottom teeth sinking into your plush lower lip. You get the memo and immediately part your lips, allowing his waiting tongue inside. 

You breathe through your nose as you kiss back, getting sloppier now as your tongues collide. You tug at the hair on his nape, eliciting soft moans out of him that you swallow up. You abruptly pull back for air, smirking as you see how swollen his lips are, slightly tinted from the lip products you previously had on. “You’re a mess.” you muse, panting for air. “You’re one to talk,” he quips back with a lazy smirk that makes you want him even more, wiping the mix of your saliva off his lips. “I’m not finished with you.” he practically growls.

You respond with another grind against his hips which he retaliates by grabbing hold of your hips again in an attempt to halt your movements. He begrudgingly fishes for his phone out of his pocket, drawing your attention once more to the large bulge straining against the material of his dress pants. He always looked so sexy in those suits of his, all dressed up, looking his best just for you. He checks the time, sighing. “We’re about 5 minutes away from the hotel.” he says bitterly. “I don’t care. I can’t wait,” you beg. “I need you, Jeno–” he shuts you up with another chaste kiss. “I know, princess, I know. Don’t get all whiny on me again.” he warns.

“But I know you like it when I do that. You practically admitted in.” you remind him, to which he scoffs, looking away as if considering your words. “Alright, I’ll give you my fingers for now, but you have to stay quiet. Don’t wanna alert the driver with your pretty moans that are meant just for me, right?” he teases, but you nod, desperately wanting something to fill your drenched core. “Then,” he continues “when we reach your suite, I’m gonna fuck the brattiness out of you.” he whispers into your ear, nose dragging along your cheekbone. “How does that sound, pretty girl?” 

You respond by kissing him again, moaning into his mouth, then remembering his request. You quiet down, parting from him as he pats your thigh with a knowing smirk. “Goodness, what would all of your fans think, knowing that this is what their favorite celebrity is up to. Little Miss Perfect is about to get finger banged by her bodyguard in the back of her car. Imagine the headlines.” he taunts as you bury your head into the crook of his neck. He holds the back of your head gently to comfort you. “Don’t get all embarrassed now, pretty. You’re lucky these windows are tinted.”

He finally starts his venture into your pants, the thin material providing him with easy access. He slides his large hand down, cupping your clothed cunt with it. “Fuck, you’re already soaked.” he grunts, voice filled with arousal. You feel his fingers rubbing against your clothed clit, already writhing in his hand. “Jeno!” you whine. “Shh, I know, baby. I know. You need to be quiet, remember? We don’t want the driver exposing our dirty little secret.”

You only grow wetter from his words, feeling as if you already came. You start to impatiently buck against his hand, trying to get any form of release you can. He responds by gently smacking your mound, earning a whimper from you. “Impatient princess. The only reason I’m giving in is because we’re short on time, but you’re getting punished later.” he warns, and you nod, barely registering his words due to your neediness. 

He lifts you off his lap, his strength evident as he lays you down across the backseat. He taps your hip, signalling for you to lift them up as he slides your pants down, peeling your panties off with them. He stares down at the current state your cunt was in, already glistening and dripping with your arousal. “Fuck baby, you’re making me want to eat you out.” he rasps, holding your thighs apart as he really takes in the scene in front of him. 

“Please,” you beg. “Please, Jeno…need you so bad.” you whine once more. At the current moment, whines begging for Jeno were the only words you could formulate. You felt yourself start to leak onto the seats, which he noticed and quickly shrugged off his suit jacket, laying it down under you. “Fuck it.” he growls, diving mouth first into your sopping cunt. Your hand flies down into his hair, needing something to grip onto as he practically devours you. Your other hand covers your mouth, trying to drown out every sound escaping you. 

His tongue parts your folds, licking up from your entrance to your clit, sucking on the stimulated bud. You try to close your legs, already overwhelmed, but his broad shoulders prevent that from happening. He’s relentless as he continues to eat you out, the sounds of him ravishing you filling up the backseat. You silently prayed that the partition was somehow thick and soundproof. 

He moves down to your entrance, tongue fucking you, making you roll your eyes back in total ecstasy. His big nose nudges at your clit with his ministrations, only doubling your pleasure. “J-jeno..” you tremble, words coming out in a whisper turned into a moan. His eyes look up at you, dilated and crazed, not stopping his motions. He was clearly pussy drunk, breathing heavily through his nose, inhaling the scent of your slick while simultaneously letting it be the only thing on his tastebuds.

You wanted to tell him you were close, but he read your mind once again, moving his mouth up to your clit as he slid his hand up from your thigh. The tip of his middle finger circles your tight hole, eliciting a moan from him when he feels just how tight and wet you are. He slowly slides it in, making you gasp into your own hand, still worried about being heard by your driver. 

He starts slowly pumping his finger in and out of you while your walls squeeze him. He’s now placing kisses onto your clit, looking up at your face once more as he adds another finger, sliding his index in along with his middle. You mewl at the stretch, feeling fuller and even closer to coming. He starts mimicking scissor-like motions, wanting to open you up for him even more. You clench around the digits, signalling to him that you were almost there. 

He picks up the pace, tongue giving your clit faster yet firmer kitten licks while he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you relentlessly. He wanted to add another but you were way too tight, which only turned him on even more, watching as your arousal started to coat his fingers in white. He uses his free hand that was on your thigh to hook your leg around his broad shoulders, lifting his face up as he replaced his tongue with his thumb. “Come for me, baby.” he commands, voice horse, the bottom half of his handsome face totally covered in your slick. He’s panting and flushed—looking just as wrecked as you probably do. The sight of the man you’ve been pining over looking this wrecked from eating you out combined with his long fingers pistoning in and out of you was more than enough for your orgasm.

He pushes your hand away from your mouth, replacing it with his lips, swallowing your moans as you come down while tasting yourself on him. His fingers don’t stop, him still rubbing at your clit, coaxing you through your release. You could die happy right now, utterly satisfied just from his hands and his mouth. You could only imagine what he had in store for later. 

You’re shaking, basking in your release as you feel the car stop, suddenly hearing a couple of camera shutters. Jeno breaks the kiss, cupping your face in one hand. “You good, princess?” he asks, and you nod, slightly panicking as you release you’re back at the hotel now. The driver knocks on the partition to signal your arrival and Jeno answers for you. “Just a moment.” he says protectively. He looks down at you with complete and utter care. “I got you, baby.” he coos, sliding your ruined panties back on alongside your pants. It’s uncomfortable, but what other choice did you have. 

You pull out your compact mirror from your purse, trying your best to fix yourself up as Jeno shrugs on his suit jacket. Thankfully, the back wasn’t tainted by your come, leaving only the inside slightly coated. He wipes his mouth and face with his handkerchief, watching you reapply your lipstick, wanting nothing more than to kiss you again.

Once you both look as decent as you possibly can, he exits first, opening the door for you. Your legs were still slightly wobbly, so he steadied you, ushering you inside as you heard even more cameras shuttering alongside questions and shouts of your name coming from the group of fans and reporters lined up outside. You had no idea how they knew you'd be back at this time, but you didn’t care. Hell, you didn’t even care how fucked out you looked.

All you could think about was the massive tent Jeno was trying his best to cover up. You smirk, making eye contact with him as you walk past the receptionist to the elevators. “That looks painful.” you quietly tease, voice hoarse from your earlier activities. “It is. You’re about to make it all better for me, brat.” he sneers as he tugs you into the elevator, not even letting the doors shut before his lips are back on yours. 

Oh well, all attention is good attention in your line of work.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[a/n]: hehehe, need me a bodyguard like that. let me know if you want a part 2 about them getting back into the hotel room ;)

taglist (tysm to those who interacted with the preview ♡ as a new account, i truly appreciate it!)

@saranghoeforanton @kiannmarieee

[chimckenns]

After the inversion, Sweetheart didn’t initiate physical touch as much as they usually did. They seemed to curl in on themselves, both physically and mentally, and Milo could feel them drifting further away.

They’d smile when Milo talked to them, but their eyes never looked at him. It was like they looked past him, into the distance, never really focusing on what’s in front.

He noticed that they hardly slept too, staring at the ceiling with their eyes open. They stopped cuddling Milo while they slept too.

Milo gave them space, thinking they needed some time to be alone and process the events of the inversion, which was understandable.

But with each passing day they grew more and more distant. Milo’s core wasn’t strong enough to reach out to them, and the emptiness from the aftermath of his actions and the lack of his mate left him alone.

And he hated that feeling.

Sweetheart came back after a long day at the Department, dropping their bags. Milo met them at the door, helping them put their things away.

“Welcome home, Sweetheart. How was work?” Milo gave them his usual smile, trying to bring back a bit of the old routine again.

Sweetheart didn’t look at him, only replying with a “It was ok. Long, but ok.” Before beelining for the bedroom to change.

Milo grasped their wrist and stopped them before they could leave. He panicked. It felt like if he didn’t do anything, they’d leave for real.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on? You’ve been distant lately, and if it’s because of… what happened, then I get that. But I…”

Sweetheart turned around with a smile that didn’t reach their eyes. They looked in his direction, but it happened again. Their eyes looked right past him. Like he wasn’t even there.

“I’m ok, Milo. But thank you for asking.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

That caught Sweetheart off guard.

“I am looking at you.”

Milo gently held their face with both hands, and brought his own closer, looking into their eyes.

“You’re not here with me right now. I can see that. Come back to me.”

Sweetheart laughed, but it was empty. They tried wriggling out of his grasp, but he held them there, unmoving.

It was clear they were starting to get unnerved, breath speeding up, hands starting to shake.

“Come back to me, Sweetheart. Look at me.”

Sweetheart closed their eyes, breaths becoming shallow. They shook their head in protest.

“I’m right here, baby”

They shook their head again.

“Look at me. Please.”

He saw the tear run down their cheek before they slowly opened their eyes. His breath caught in his chest when he saw that they finally looked at him. Truly looked at him. Eyes focusing and looking right into his.

Their hand suddenly grabbed his own with surprising strength, and they became desperate - eyes filling up with tears as they touched his face, feeling his cheeks as if confirming that he was in fact alive. The longer they looked at him, the more it felt like they were falling into a spiral of panic. Eyes darting around, frantically searching for something on him.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Milo made sure to hold onto them, grounding them in the way they said helped when they were going through a panic attack.

“I-I can’t. I keep.” A hiccup. “I keep hearing you. Seeing you. The blood on your body I-“ A sniffle. “I’m scared that you’ll disappear. I know you’re right there. I was there with you. But I- I couldn’t do anything. Didn’t do anything and you almost died. I’m scared and I feel like I’m trapped in that loop of what could have happened, and-and I hear your screams and my heart feels like it’s being ripped into shreds. You remind me of what could have been. And I’m scared that if I forget that then the real you would disappear too. And I feel guilty for even thinking this because you were so selfless like you always are and sacrificed yourself for everyone else but I can’t help but think why would you and then I feel awful. I love you and I selfishly wish you’d just stay with me but you left.”

They fell limp in his arms, tears uncontrollable now. Milo caught them and held them close, stroking their hair slowly and gently shushing them. Their form flickered, panic taking over their body as the inversion replayed in their mind and in front of their eyes. Milo rocked them gently, holding them while they ride out the episode, whispering reminders that he was right there with them.

“Please don’t leave me.” It was barely a whisper, but it felt like a desperate scream.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Milo tilted their head up with his fingers, making sure their eyes focused on him, and kissed them, gentle and sweet. His thumb ran soothing circles along their cheek, forehead pressed against theirs.

“I’m never leaving you, Sweetheart. Frying my core isn’t gonna pull me away from you. I won’t let it happen. And I haven’t. I’m right here.”

He kissed them on the forehead and wiped their tears away with his thumb.

“I’m right here.”

[paxaz535]

CONTROL

reader x nika x paige x azzi , poly (yay) , vibrators used , for all my horny gals

You and Nika were at your apartment. It wasn’t until last night that you and Nika were feeling things you hadn’t brought up.

You felt like ever since you, her, paige and azzi been fucking around on each other, it’s starting to become serious. Become… real. You felt it. You wondered of Nika felt it too.

You were starting to catch feelings for both Azzi and Paige. You still loved Nika, always. She will forever be your number one… but being with paige and azzi doesn’t sound so bad.

“You’re thinking.” Nika stated.

You sighed and turned to her, “Yeah.”

She looked at you, her pretty brown eyes never leaving yours. “About them?”

You looked down and bit your lip, nodding. You expected her to be upset, maybe uncomfortable but she kept her face the same way.

“Me too.”

That’s what threw you off guard.

You looked up, your face a little stunned. Nika chuckled before nodding, “Yeah. I know what you’re thinking, baby.”

You looked at her longer this time. Not just at her face, but at the way her body relaxed the second she admitted it. Like saying it out loud lifted something heavy from both your chests.

“You do?” you asked, voice smaller than you meant it to be.

Nika leaned back against the headboard, arms resting behind her head. Her gaze never left yours.

“Of course I do,” she said. “You think I didn’t see the way Paige touches you when she thinks no one’s looking? Or the way Azzi watches you like she’s trying not to fall in love too fast?”

You swallowed. She was right. But hearing her say it out loud made it real.

“You’re not mad?” you asked, cautious.

Nika shook her head slowly. “I’m not mad. Just… confused, maybe. Like, how the fuck did we get here?”

You laughed once, quietly, because same.

“But I’m not jealous,” she added, softer this time. “Because I still have you. You’re still mine. That’s not changing.”

You crawled toward her a little, heart thudding.

“You still want me?”

“Always,” Nika said without missing a beat.

“Even if… I want them too?”

She didn’t answer right away. She sat up instead, cupped your cheek, and kissed you like she needed you to feel the answer, not hear it.

When she pulled back, she whispered:

“I do too. I think I want all of it.”

You closed your eyes, letting that sink in. Four people. Messy, complicated, beautiful.

“So what do we do?” you whispered.

Nika smiled, leaning her forehead to yours.

“We stop pretending. And we ask them if they want it too.”

You opened your eyes. “What if they don’t?”

She kissed your cheek. “Then we fuck each other in front of them until they change their minds.”

You laughed, burying your face in her neck. God, you loved her.

“But if they do…” she added, voice low and warm, “then baby, we get to make this real.”

You pulled back just enough to meet her eyes again.

“I think I want that.”

“Then let’s find out.”

—

3 Days Later

The four of you were crammed onto your couch like always—takeout boxes open on the coffee table, some random show playing in the background that none of you were actually watching.

Paige was sitting in the middle with Azzi curled into her side, legs tucked under her. You and Nika shared the other end, your thigh thrown over hers, her arm stretched across the back of the couch like a quiet claim.

It felt… normal. Or, at least, what normal had become.

Everyone was touching. Everyone was close.

And it was starting to feel like a lie to call it casual.

You’d caught Azzi watching you earlier—really watching—when you got up to grab water. Her eyes had lingered a little too long. Paige noticed. Didn’t say a word. Just smirked into her drink like she already knew.

Now Nika leaned in, close enough that only you could hear her.

“Should we do it now?”

You glanced at her. Heart in your throat. Then nodded.

She shifted forward a little, resting her forearms on her knees, voice calm, casual.

“So,” she said, like she was just tossing it out there. “Can we talk about something?”

Paige looked over, eyebrow lifted. “Sounds serious.”

“Kinda is,” Nika said. “It’s about… us.”

Azzi blinked, then slowly sat up straighter.

You spoke next, fingers laced with Nika’s now. “We were just wondering if any of you… have been feeling like this is more than just sex.”

The room fell quiet. Not tense. Just still.

Azzi was the first to speak.

“I’ve been scared to say it,” she admitted. “But yeah. It’s starting to feel like… more.”

Paige didn’t hesitate either.

“You’re not crazy,” she said. “I’ve been feeling it too.”

Your breath left you all at once. Nika’s hand squeezed yours, grounding.

“We don’t wanna stop,” you said softly. “Not with each other. Not with you guys. But we also don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

Azzi looked between you and Nika. “So what are you saying?”

Nika leaned back, letting her words land slow and careful.

“We want all of it. You. Each other. Us—all of us. If you want it too.”

Paige smiled first. Big, slow, and unbothered.

“Took y’all long enough.”

Azzi let out a breathy laugh, eyes warm.

“Yeah,” she said. “We want it too.”

And just like that, it was decided.

No fanfare. No big declarations. Just four people sitting close, like they always had been—only now, with everything out in the open.

Real. Tangled. Theirs.

-

“Ughhh, I do not wanna go. The bus ride is like six hours long!”

You flopped back on the couch, dramatically groaning about how the whole team had to take a bus trip for some random photo shoot that had to be done. A six-hour ride? In a bus? It sounded miserable.

“Well, baby, we have to go,” Nika said, stuffing a pair of socks into her suitcase without looking up. “Geno’s literally forcing us.”

Footsteps echoed down the stairs.

“Six hours for a photo shoot is insane… is it not?” Azzi asked, arms stretching over her head as she joined you. You turned toward her with a matching “right?” look on your face.

“You guys are so dramatic,” Paige called from the couch, standing and stretching. “It won’t be that bad.”

You and Azzi shot her a synchronized deadpan stare.

She just smirked. “Hey, at least we’ll be with the team.”

“Exactly,” you said flatly.

“And more importantly,” Paige added, “we’ll be with each other. How’s that sound?”

Azzi considered it. “Eh.”

The three of you gasped like she’d just told you she hated puppies.

“Wow, Az.” You spoke. Azzi’s mouth dropped, “You were just on my side!” She spoke. You just let out a sigh and turned away.

Nika laughed but her face changed. Paige clocked it, “Uh oh. What are you thinking about, Nik?”

She smirked, “What if we make the bus ride… interesting?”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Define interesting.”

Nika’s grin was all mischief now, the kind that made you nervous and turned on at the same time. She tossed her socks into the suitcase and turned to the rest of you, arms crossed, like she was about to pitch something illegal.

“Okay. Hear me out,” she said. “We each wear one.”

Azzi blinked. “One what?”

Nika raised her brows meaningfully. “A vibrator.”

Paige snorted, then immediately covered her mouth, clearly intrigued. You stared at her, mouth open.

“On the bus?” you asked.

“Mhm.” Nika looked proud. “Low setting, nothing crazy. Just… a little pressure. Just enough to keep you squirming.”

Azzi’s eyes lit up way too fast. “That sounds—”

“Insane,” you finished for her.

“Hot,” she corrected with a grin.

Paige finally dropped onto the bed beside Nika, laughing. “So what, we just edge ourselves the whole ride?”

“Nah,” Nika said, walking closer to where you were sitting and leaning down to brush a finger along your jaw. “It’s a competition. Whoever taps out first…”

“Taps out?” you asked, pulse kicking up.

“Yeah,” Paige caught on, leaning forward. “Whoever pulls theirs out first. Or begs for mercy. Or makes a noise someone else on the bus hears.”

“Loses,” Nika finished. “And has to watch the other three fuck later. No touching. Just watching.”

The room was dead silent for a moment.

Then Azzi nodded slowly. “I’m so in.”

Paige grinned. “Same.”

You swallowed. Hard. “What if I lose on purpose?”

Nika smirked. “Then you better be real quiet about it, baby.”

—

It was somehow worse—and better—than you expected.

The bus was full, just like you feared. Teammates were scattered from front to back, some with headphones in, others chatting quietly or munching on snacks. The team manager was already asleep two rows up. Geno was glued to his phone. Nobody cared what you were doing in the very back corner.

Which was good.

Because every single one of you was already plugged in.

You sat in the last two rows, split across the aisle—Paige and Azzi on one side, you and Nika on the other. Diagonal, which felt unfair, because you could see each other. You could watch.

Each of you had slipped on the remote-controlled vibrators earlier, tucked into the bathroom stalls in pairs under the excuse of last-minute peeing. Nika had handed you yours with a kiss on your neck and the softest “Don’t embarrass yourself, babe.”

Now here you all were. Four people, four toys. All on the lowest setting.

But the lowest setting didn’t mean easy.

You had a hoodie draped over your lap. Nika looked like she didn’t even know what a vibrator was—legs stretched long, earbuds in, scrolling her phone like the back of the bus wasn’t pulsing with suppressed tension. She hadn’t even looked at you yet. Just bumped your level up twice already from the remote in her pocket. The casual evil of it.

Azzi had her arms crossed and her hood up, but her leg was bouncing and her eyes were glassy. Every few seconds she pressed her thighs together and exhaled like she could will the sensation away.

Paige? Paige looked like she was feeding off this. She had the remote for Azzi and herself, one in each hand, flicking through levels like she was tuning a radio. Azzi kept slapping her thigh when it got too much.

“You’re gonna make me moan,” Azzi whispered through clenched teeth.

“That’s the point, baby,” Paige whispered back, eyes gleaming.

Across the aisle, Nika finally turned to you. Her brows lifted.

“You good?”

You nodded stiffly, hands in fists under the hoodie. “So good.”

“Liar,” she whispered, then turned your level up again.

You hissed—sharply, right through your teeth—and grabbed her thigh.

“Nika—fuck, stop doing that.”

She leaned in, grinning against your ear.

“Then stop making that little face when you squirm.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

You were. You knew you were.

Suddenly a soft thud came from across the aisle. Azzi had kicked the seat in front of her.

“Jesus, Az,” Paige muttered. “Subtle.”

Azzi groaned, low and pained. “I can’t. You turned me up and didn’t turn it back down.”

“Aww, poor baby,” Nika cooed, making her voice all soft and patronizing.

Azzi gave her the finger.

You were about to laugh—until Nika turned her remote up again.

And now you were the one jerking in your seat, breath catching audibly in your throat.

It was too loud.

From the row in front of you, KK turned around slowly. Her eyebrows rose.

“Y’all good back there?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Nika elbowed you gently.

“Yeah,” she answered smoothly. “She dropped her phone.”

KK looked at you, then Azzi—who looked like she was in pain.

Paige piped up. “She’s carsick. She gets like this sometimes.”

KK blinked.

You nodded, too quickly. “Yep. Just motion sickness. Dramamine’s kicking in.”

There was a beat.

Then KK shrugged. “Mm. Y’all are weird.” She turned back around.

The second her head turned, everyone exhaled like you’d survived a bomb scare.

Azzi turned to Paige with a wild look in her eye. “You’re so lucky I didn’t lose right then.”

“You won’t,” Paige whispered, smug. “I’m not done with you.”

Paige hadn’t touched her own settings yet. She looked fine. Maybe too fine.

Nika noticed.

“I feel like Paige is cheating,” she said, lazily scrolling through her Spotify playlist.

“I’m pacing myself,” Paige replied, eyes sharp. “Y’all are gonna burn out.”

That was fair.

Because you were already struggling, and you could tell Azzi was too.

Azzi turned to you, breathless. “You better tap out before I do.”

“Hell no.”

“You look like you’re gonna cry.”

“I am gonna cry. Out of rage. If I lose first, I swear to god—”

Nika reached over and cranked your setting to max.

Your words cut off. Your back arched off the seat. The hoodie fell off your lap.

“Nika!” you hissed, scrambling to pull it back up.

“You were getting mouthy,” she said, all fake-innocence.

Azzi cackled—until her setting spiked too. Paige was still watching you, her thumb on Azzi’s remote like it had a mind of its own.

“We’re gonna die back here,” Azzi groaned, half-laughing, half-whimpering.

“That’s the idea,” Nika said coolly.

You gripped her hand and whispered through clenched teeth, “You better not let me lose first.”

Nika just smiled. “Then don’t come, baby.”

-

The bus rolled on.

Mile after mile of trees and highway passed in a blur, but back in the last two rows, time felt slow. Heavy with heat and tension and low, buzzing pleasure.

You were holding on by a thread. Azzi didn’t look much better. Both of you were flushed, stiff in your seats, trying so hard not to move. Not to make a sound. Not to give anything away.

That’s when Paige shifted suddenly and leaned into Azzi.

“Hey,” she murmured. “Hold this for me.”

She held out her remote—the one linked to her own vibrator.

Azzi blinked. “Wait… you want me to—?”

“Control me. Go crazy. Just don’t blow our cover.”

Azzi looked dazed. But she took the remote anyway, hand closing around it like it might bite her. Paige stretched back into her seat, legs wide, arms crossed behind her head like she was settling in for a nap.

Azzi stared at the little dial, then flicked it once—barely off the lowest level.

Paige didn’t flinch.

Azzi flicked it again. And again.

By the third notch, Paige’s jaw flexed.

“That’s more like it,” Azzi said under her breath, a little smug now. “Let’s see you squirm for once.”

On your side of the aisle, Nika was watching the whole exchange with interest. She turned to you, eyes glittering.

“You want mine too?”

Your breath caught. “What?”

“My remote,” she said, pulling it from her pocket and spinning it around her fingers. “Wanna make me suffer for a little?”

You stared. You were already flushed, shaking, barely holding on—and now she wanted to hand you the power?

“You’re evil,” you whispered.

“So take it, baby.”

You reached for it—and Nika didn’t break eye contact as she slid the remote into your hand, brushing your fingers on purpose. Her voice dropped to a hush.

“Make me regret it.”

You were so going to.

The second it was yours, you cranked her setting one click above yours.

Nika’s expression didn’t change at first—she just shifted in her seat a little. Crossed one leg over the other. You watched her carefully, looking for the cracks.

Then you turned it up again.

Still nothing.

“You’re not human,” you muttered.

She smirked. “You’ll get me eventually.”

“Promise?”

“If you don’t tap out first.”

Challenge accepted.

You leaned into her space, keeping your voice low. “I know what yours feels like. I know what it does to you.”

Nika swallowed.

You caught it.

Then, across the aisle—

“Mmmff—”

Azzi slapped a hand over Paige’s mouth.

“Shut up!” she hissed. “You’re gonna blow our cover.”

Paige was practically vibrating in her seat, back arched just slightly, fists gripping the hem of her shorts. Her eyes were wide, stunned, and a little glassy.

Azzi looked so proud.

“Oh, you’re struggling,” she said softly, biting back a grin.

Paige glared, jaw clenched, but didn’t say anything. Just held on.

Until Azzi pushed the dial again.

Paige jolted—too hard.

A loud thump echoed as her knee hit the seat in front of her.

“Shit—”

KK turned around immediately.

Her eyebrows rose again. “Y’all good back there?”

All four of you froze.

You tried to speak, but Nika beat you to it—voice calm, smooth, even a little bored.

“Dropped a water bottle.”

Paige nodded too quickly. “Totally. All good.”

KK narrowed her eyes. Then pointed. “Y’all actin’ real weird.”

You gave her a tight smile. “Motion sickness.”

KK stared at you.

Then—thank god—she rolled her eyes and turned back around.

The second she was gone, the four of you broke.

Azzi wheezed into Paige’s shoulder, Paige looked like she was praying, you were clutching the remote like a lifeline, and Nika finally twitched in her seat.

“Got you,” you whispered.

She turned her head slowly, a bead of sweat just barely at her temple.

“You asshole.”

“You love it.”

“Maybe.”

You flicked her level up once more.

Nika’s thighs pressed together.

Victory.

Across the aisle, Paige was panting. “Okay, okay, pause. Azzi, pause it. Just for like, five minutes.”

Azzi gave her the most evil smirk. “Nope.”

“I will moan your name on this bus.”

“Okay—okay fine,” Azzi said, laughing, and dialed her down a few notches. “You win for now.”

Nika looked at you and then at Azzi. “It’s giving top energy.”

Azzi grinned. “She likes it when I win.”

Paige leaned over, flushed and breathless. “She’s lying. I’m gonna ruin her later.”

You stared between them, heart pounding, thighs sore from holding tension for so long. The remotes were still in your hands. Nika’s chest was rising slightly faster now. Paige looked ready to fold.

And there were still four hours left on this damn ride.

-

The hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of a snack wrapper were the only sounds outside of your four-person chaos.

Everyone was sweating, in different ways.

You leaned against the window, cool glass doing absolutely nothing for the way your core pulsed with need. The remote in your hand—it felt like holding a live wire. You kept your thumb hovering over the dial, taunting Nika with slow, steady increases. Never all at once. You wanted to watch her unravel.

Across the aisle, Azzi had her fingers cradling Paige’s remote like it was the most precious thing she’d ever owned. Paige had tried pretending she was fine. She really had. But now her legs were spread too far, her chest was rising too fast, and she was chewing on the drawstring of her hoodie to stay quiet.

You glanced at Azzi and nodded.

She cranked it up—just half a click.

Paige’s eyes rolled.

“F-fuck,” she hissed under her breath.

You and Azzi both grinned.

But then Nika reached over—and without a word—plucked her remote back out of your hand.

“You had your fun,” she whispered.

You blinked. “You’re—”

She reached around and slipped her hand beneath your hoodie. Not far. Just low enough to ghost her fingers over the top of your thigh, too close to where you were throbbing from the toy.

“My turn again.”

She upped your setting to match hers. Then, without breaking eye contact, she tapped it one notch higher.

You flinched so hard your knee knocked the seat in front of you.

“God—”

KK’s head turned again.

“Y’all seriously okay back there?”

This time it was Azzi who saved you. “Sorry. Paige dropped a bag of M&Ms.”

KK squinted. “It sounded like a body dropped.”

Paige gave her a thumbs up. “All good, KK. Promise.”

She gave a slow, skeptical nod before turning back again.

You were still clenching every muscle in your body. The hoodie over your lap hid nothing now—your thighs were shaking, jaw tight, eyes glassy.

“I hate you,” you whispered to Nika.

“You love me.”

“I can’t keep sitting like this.”

“Then move.”

“If I move, I’ll come.”

“So don’t.”

You groaned, pushing your face into her shoulder. She laughed softly and kissed the top of your head, fingers brushing along the outside of your thigh again—soft, almost caring.

Across the aisle, Azzi had gone quiet.

Too quiet.

You looked up to see her sitting stiffly, hands braced on her knees. Her hoodie had fallen off her shoulders. Paige was watching her like a hawk, eyes narrowed.

“She’s doing it to herself now,” Paige whispered, low and smug.

“No I’m not,” Azzi shot back, flustered.

“Oh, you so are.”

You leaned toward her. “Azzi… what level are you on?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Paige’s grin stretched. “She’s at eight.”

“Azzi.”

“It’s not that bad,” she muttered.

“You’re sweating.”

Azzi looked at all of you. “Okay but like, if I tap out now… y’all will not let me forget it.”

Paige reached over, cupped her jaw, and kissed her cheek.

“Damn right we won’t.”

“We’re holding the line,” Nika added, pressing the remote tighter into your thigh.

You whimpered again. So much for being the smug one.

“Fuck this bus ride,” you muttered.

“Two more hours,” Azzi said, gritting her teeth. “We just have to survive two more hours.”

“Or less,” Paige added. “If someone breaks.”

You all looked around, eyes jumping from face to face.

Who was going to lose it first?

-

It was Azzi who said it first.

“Let’s level it.”

You blinked. “Level what?”

“Everyone. All four. Max it out. No cheats, no teasing. Just straight to twelve.”

A beat of silence.

Even Paige looked up, eyes flickering with surprise. “That’s suicide.”

Azzi shrugged, though her knuckles were white where they gripped Paige’s remote. “Maybe. Or maybe someone breaks.”

You could barely think. You were still throbbing at level nine, and it felt like your body had been coiled like a spring for the last hour.

Nika leaned forward, eyes dark. “Twelve?”

Azzi nodded. “Twelve.”

Paige smirked. “You’re gonna regret this.”

“I already do,” Azzi hissed, but she didn’t back down.

All of you looked around. Nobody said no.

So it happened.

One by one, every remote clicked up.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

And suddenly the entire back row of the bus was an oven of silent, vibrating agony.

Your back arched instantly. The buzz was no longer a soft, teasing hum—it was a roar. You clenched your thighs together, face buried in Nika’s hoodie now, your body begging for release. But you held on. Barely.

Across from you, Paige was red-faced, jaw locked, her nails digging into her seat cushion. Azzi was trembling, shoulders pressed hard into the window, one hand over her mouth, the other still squeezing Paige’s remote like she could crush it into dust.

Nika… was sweating.

For once, your unbothered girlfriend looked wrecked. Her breathing was ragged, lips parted, eyes unfocused. But she still had her hand on your thigh. Still kept your hoodie in place, still whispered in your ear—

“No tapping out. Not yet.”

You shook your head. You couldn’t even speak.

Time stopped meaning anything. It was just you and the deep, pulsing, relentless pressure threatening to undo you right there on that damn team bus. Every bump in the road made it worse. Every sigh, every moan, every choked breath from one of you… it all added fuel to the fire.

“I’m gonna die,” Paige muttered.

“Same,” Azzi whimpered.

“Don’t you fucking quit,” Nika said through gritted teeth.

You weren’t sure if she was talking to you or herself.

Then—

BANG.

Paige’s foot hit the wall of the bus.

Hard.

Everyone jumped.

KK turned again, this time with real suspicion. “Okay, what the hell is happening back there?”

You all scrambled.

“Spider!” you blurted.

“It was HUGE,” Nika added, wiping sweat from her brow.

“It’s gone now,” Azzi said way too fast.

KK looked like she was doing math in her head.

“Y’all sound like you’re fighting ghosts.”

You gave her your best deadpan face. “That’s what it feels like.”

She stared another second… then turned back around.

You all stayed frozen.

Every one of you was so close.

Every twitch, every wave of vibration was another second closer to disaster.

Paige was shaking.

Azzi had tears in her eyes.

Nika was clenching her jaw so tight her cheek twitched.

And you—

You were right there.

Any second now.

But no one said the word.

No one quit.

Not yet.

-

It happened all at once.

You don’t know who let go first—maybe you, maybe Azzi—but it was like a damn chain reaction. A series of silent detonations in the back of that bus.

You felt it swell in your gut, impossibly strong. Your hands gripped the seat, your hoodie pressed to your face as your whole body tensed and shook, thighs clamping down over the toy that had been relentlessly bullying your clit for over an hour. You couldn’t stop it—you didn’t want to stop it. You came so hard your vision blacked out.

And then—

“Fuck—”

Nika’s whisper was sharp, strangled.

You turned just in time to see her fall back against the seat, head tilted, mouth open, breath catching in her throat. Her legs spread a little wider without her realizing. Her hand was still on your thigh, squeezing. Barely there, barely conscious.

“No. No. No—” Paige was gasping.

She arched into the seatbelt, her hips rolling up as she came too—face red, jaw slack, hoodie almost soaked with sweat. Her hands trembled on her thighs.

Azzi was crying.

Real tears.

“I hate y’all,” she whispered as she came, curling in on herself, hands fisted into Paige’s jacket, chest heaving. “I hate you so much.”

Paige whimpered.

And then it was just… silence.

Four panting disasters in the back of a bus full of blissfully unaware teammates.

The air reeked of sweat and defeat. Your legs were jelly. Your toy was still buzzing weakly—just background noise now. You reached under the hoodie with trembling hands to shut it off, pressing your face into Nika’s neck.

“Oh my god,” you croaked.

“We’re all going to hell,” Azzi mumbled.

“No one’s allowed to talk to me,” Paige said flatly.

“No one gets laid tonight,” Nika declared, voice still hoarse.

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

She looked at you with those half-lidded, post-orgasm eyes of hers and said, dead serious—

“We all lost the challenge. That was the rule.”

Paige groaned. “I forgot about the rule.”

“You made the rule,” Azzi muttered.

“Okay, but it was supposed to be funny. Now I’m horny and sad.”

You all just sat there in your pathetic little sweat-drenched circle of shame, catching your breath and trying not to laugh.

It was the dumbest thing you’d ever done.

It was maybe also the hottest.

You turned your face back into Nika’s hoodie.

“Same time next road trip?”

She smirked. “Only if we actually make it through next time.”

Paige lifted her hoodie hood over her face.

“I need a nap. And therapy.”

-

You all arrived at the hotel just before sunset, dragging your bags and your dignity across the pavement like survivors of a sex-fueled war. No one said much. The silence between you four was loud.

You were grateful Kk hadn’t caught on completely—though she was way too curious for comfort. The foot-stomping, the fake spider excuse, the suspicious looks? Way too close. You were going to need to tread lightly around her from now on.

Still, nothing stung more than the actual loss. No winner, no loser. Just four overstimulated idiots with soaked underwear and ruined pride. No one had tapped out. Which meant—per your dumb agreement—no one got touched tonight.

It was a lose-lose deal.

And everyone was mad about it.

You could feel it in the body language. Azzi kept biting her lip like she was physically holding back a tantrum. Paige had been unusually quiet, hoodie up, fists clenched in her sleeves. Nika had that look on her face like she was fighting the urge to break her own rules—and her remote.

You were no better.

Still soaked. Still frustrated. Still silently replaying the bus ride in your head like a ghost story.

The four of you stepped off the bus and stood on the curb as CD and Geno waited out front, clipboards in hand. The team was loud, spilling out of the bus in groups, chattering and stretching and making jokes about who’d be rooming with who.

“Alright!” Geno shouted, trying to rein everyone in. “You’ll all be in groups of four. One group of three. Pretty simple.”

You glanced at the girls next to you—your partners, your problems. All three were already looking back at you. You tried not to smile. Or squirm. Or drop to your knees from sheer frustration.

Please let us be together. Please. If we can’t touch, at least let us suffer in the same room.

“First group—Kk, Aubrey, Aaliyah, and Ice,” CD called out.

You exhaled. Not you. Not them.

“Next—Qadance, Ines, Jana, and Caroline.”

Another sigh. You heard the three beside you exhale too, almost in unison. Nika even crossed her fingers at her side. Paige mumbled a soft, “Come on, come on,” under her breath.

“Next—Amari, Ayanna, and Ashlynn.”

The trio. Meaning… only one group left.

Your heart skipped. If you weren’t in this next group, you’d be bunking with strangers while the others had to sneak around. You’d combust alone in some sad twin bed, listening to Nika’s voice notes like a psycho.

CD glanced at the last four names.

“Lastly—Nika, Paige, Azzi, and [ ].”

Thank God.

You didn’t even try to hide the smile.

Neither did they.

Azzi whispered a silent “Yesss” and bumped her hip into Paige’s. Nika looked smug, as if she knew the universe wouldn’t dare separate you. Paige just gave a relieved grin and slung her duffel over one shoulder, her eyes already trailing over you like a threat.

You could feel the heat building again.

The only issue? The rule still stood.

No sex. No orgasms. No touching.

Just four horny, bitter girls in one shared hotel room… all with something to prove.

And the night had only just begun.

[tkomptgoedluv]

just in case.

joost klein x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, non-famous! reader, established relationship, reader is just like me <3 (she works in hospitality), reader is also very very unwell but can’t really admit it, joost is a compulsive fixer, they’re both arguably too codependent but it’s okay because it’s them, a lil bit of angst, toooo much hurt, so much comfort that it’s once again a little cringe, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 4,849.

warnings: frequent + detailed descriptions of depressive episodes, sexual harassment, SA, semi-vauge mention of suicide ideation, rpf.

notes: hello lovelies!! i don’t have a whole lot to say here, just that this is definitely not my best work but writing this fic has helped me cope with something that happened in my real life so it honestly means quite a bit to me. like pretty much always, this fic comes with a MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING so please keep yourselves safe, and my messages are always open for anyone that needs to talk <3 — it’s also not been proof-read quite just yet; i’ll get around to that eventually. and as always, thank you @joosthead for being the best beta-reader EVER i love you so much MWAH! xx

enjoy! 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

your eyes felt sore, aching from how hard you were rubbing at them, still somewhat considering clawing them out of your head just to try and stop the burning. 

you couldn’t stop crying.

your shift at work today, it had been your breaking point. despite pleading almost on your hands and knees for her not to, your manager had still put you on the bar shift to face the evening rush alone. claiming that you’d be okay because you were supposedly ‘one of her best’, she’d disappeared inside her office just mere moments after you’d shown up, somehow already swamped in emails and admin work. and that was all bullshit, of course — everyone else had just called out for the night, and she was never one to get her hands too dirty.

she left you scrambling, desperately trying to pick up the pieces because at least from what it looked like, whoever had closed the night before hadn’t even tried to do their job. the first customers of the day were trapseing their way in but everything was still so sticky, the feeling of it against your skin making you feel queasy, but there wasn’t any time to clean because everybody just had to want something from you, didn’t they? and what they wanted they couldn’t have right away, because apparently no one had bothered to stock up or refill anything, either.

from just those first few minutes of your shift, your stomach had already began to sink.

you should have listened to joost, should have listened to your boyfriend when he near-begged you to call out as well because you were already struggling enough as it was. you’d only said no because you had no way of explaining why it is you’ve been feeling like this. why you haven’t been sleeping despite all of the meditation you take and why even the smallest, simplest things have you paralysed in your bed, unable to breathe quite right.

you’d just wanted to power through. it wasn’t fair on anyone else to pick up your slack because you couldn’t seem to get your shit together. and it certainly wasn’t fair on joost, when he’s already had to dedicate so much of his time over the past couple months to taking care of you. you’re not a kid; you shouldn’t need someone to hold your hand whilst you brush your teeth, someone to sit on the bathroom floor just to keep you company whilst you take a bath. 

he already does enough not just for you but for everyone else in his life. always running around here, there, and everywhere, always five steps ahead just to make sure no one gets left behind whilst he becomes the international star he’s always meant to be. to call in sick again was to hold him back another day, to have him reschedule another session with teun because he just wouldn’t feel right leaving you alone like this.

you still should have listened, though. you still should have called out when he asked you to, because it never got any better, did it?

the customers, they never got any nicer. every single person that walked through the bar’s doors, they pushed you closer and closer to an edge that you’ve been crawling away from for months, because they’d treated you like you weren’t even human. with words laced with venom, they all but spat at you whilst simultaneously asking for your help, rejoicing in the fact that you’re never allowed to say no, no matter how cruel they are.

and the band you’d hosted for the evening, some shitty little wannabe rock/rap group that somehow had an all-male fan base, they were awful. how they managed to even book the gig when they couldn’t even sing, rap, or keep their instruments in tune, was beyond you. it had taken so much not to hide yourself away in the back when it all got too loud, the pure noise of almost a hundred people all shouting at once making your skin clammy and your stomach churn. 

it would have been too much for anyone to cope with alone, really. and your manager, nieke, she shouldn’t have stayed locked up in her office doing god knows what for as long as she had. what happened to you wasn’t her fault by any means, but you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she would have been able to stop it had she actually been there with you.

that maybe she would have been able to get that guy to stop when he had leaned over the bar just one too many times, his eyes pointed directly at your chest. that she would’ve had the guts to kick him out when he’d said another one too many things to make your skin feel itchy, like his promise to wait for you outside because ‘you just look so sexy when you’re all hot and bothered’.

then again, you weren’t exactly helpless, were you? you could have stood your ground, could have kicked him out yourself instead of shrinking underneath his gaze. you could have gone and asked for her help instead of just dealing with it, like you always do, and you could have at least told her about it after the place had cleared out for the night.

and above all else, you should have remembered to leave through the back exit like you normally do on a night like this. you shouldn’t have been so focused on just getting out of there and getting home that you forgot about that guy’s promise to you.

if you had done, then you wouldn’t be stood here shaking in the doorway of your home, those tears of yours burning your eyes as you completely and utterly fell to pieces.

all joost did was ask if you were okay. 

he’d heard you come in, almost slamming the front door behind you, from where he’d been sitting in the living room drawing up more sketches on his ipad. you hadn’t called out to him like you usually do when you know he’s home, singing a cheesy little ‘honey! i’m home!’ just loud enough for him to hear, but not too loud that it disturbs the neighbours. you’d been completely silent instead, the only noise you made being the kicking off of your shoes as you chucked your keys onto the hall table, so he asked if everything was alright. 

and that had been the thing to make you crack.

because that customer of yours, that asshole, he’d been there waiting for you as you left. you hadn’t seen him at first, your head tilted down as you struggled to untie the earphones that you’d ‘borrowed’ from joost before he’d left for teun’s. 

he cornered you the very first chance that he got; waiting until you were just far enough away from your workplace that turning back was out of the question, before he’d backed you up against that wall. with a sick, lopsided grin on his face, he’d paid you the same kind of ‘compliments’ that he had done during the show, the same ones that you’d pretended not to hear the whole evening. only when his back had been turned had you let your facade start to slip, your lip quivering as his words slowly sunk in.

‘do you have any idea how hard it was for me to not jump over the bar and bend you over?’

‘fuck, i love your eyes; i can’t wait to make you cry. i bet you’re a crier, aren’t you? or are you a screamer?’

‘you’re so sexy, schat. can i call you that? you can call me daddy, if you’d like. you seem like the type.’

you wish that you would have done more; that you would have screamed or slapped him, maybe. though you had only just stood there, frozen, quietly asking him to move because you were ‘in a rush’ and ‘had to get home soon.’ you only started to make a scene once he grabbed you, palming your tit over your work uniform as he pinned you against the brick and kissed you. 

you’d made it home with flakes of his skin still stuck underneath your fingernails from where you’d scratched at him, pushing him off. he only did so once you started to really dig your nails in, clawing at the skin of his neck like an animal as you wailed, shouting at him to leave you alone. at least he had done, but not without muttering a ‘crazy bitch’ under his breath first, before speeding off in the opposite direction with his head down low.

for the rest of your walk home, you hadn’t let yourself think about any of it. you’d held all your pieces together just like you were supposed to, and only then let them start to fall once you’d stepped through your front door and locked eyes with a pair of joost’s shoes.

they were his favourite pair, actually; the all-black DC trainers you’d gotten him for christmas one year, that he’d left all in a mess by the doormat after getting home from the studio. somehow, it had completely slipped your mind that he was gonna be home by the time that you finished work tonight, and knowing that he was here and that you really were safe now, it had brought tears to your eyes that you hadn’t been strong enough to hold back. and then he’d called out to you, asking if you were okay with such worry already in his voice, and you’d realised that now you were actually going to have to tell him that no, you really weren’t okay at all. 

joost hadn’t said anything when he heard you burst into tears as explosively as you had. he’d simply rushed over, appearing as a blurry, blond figure as he came running from around the corner. 

“hey hey hey, what happened?”

a pair of strong arms wrapped around you; one around your shoulders and another around your waist, keeping you upright as your knees began to buckle. with your face squished against his shirt, you were breathing in nothing but the smell of his aftershave as you clung onto him for dear life.

you just couldn’t answer him.

at least not yet, anyway.

so you just cried; small, dark spots of mascara staining the white of his t-shirt. even if it wasn’t as old as it was, the graphic on the front having already faded several years ago, joost wouldn’t have cared. it could always be washed with the stain-remover that you keep shoved in the back of one of the kitchen cupboards. to him, they’d never be as detrimental as the long streaks of black that were painting your face now. to him, those were the real, true heartbreak. 

you were crying like someone had just died and he didn’t…he just didn’t know what to do with that. his fingers were all in your hair, scratching just underneath your ear as he kept whispering ‘shh it’s okay; just breathe’ over and over again, but you weren’t calming down. you were still hanging off of him, barely holding yourself up anymore as you sobbed screaming into his chest.

joost knew things were getting bad for you already; he’d seen it coming long before even you had. the way you slowly began to feel so indifferent towards everything you once loved. how you would carefully shrink into nothing only when you thought that he wasn’t watching. how you couldn’t bring yourself to eat or even wash yourself unless he was there, almost cheering you on. and that was more than okay, obviously, because he’d cheer you on no matter what it was that you were trying to do. alway being your number one fan, your very own personal cheerleader, it came with the title of being your boyfriend and he loved it. 

but it just wasn’t like you, was it? you weren’t one to go down without a fight, regardless of the situation. you’d proved that early on in the relationship when you broke your elbow ice-skating, and despite how you had been such a mess crying your eyes out, you had seriously tried to brush it off at first because you ‘didn’t want to spoil the day for everyone else’. you also always refuse to fall asleep on the nights that joost can’t seem to switch his mind off, always insisting on staying up with him instead because it means that you get to help him finish whatever project he’s too stuck on to let go.

even when you’re ill and it’s bad enough that a couple paracetamol can’t magically fix it overnight, joost still has to swaddle you in blankets and bribe you to stay in bed. he has to force feed you your favourite herbal teas and reassure you every five minutes that he likes doing this for you, because if he doesn’t then you won’t let yourself stop. you’ll keep pushing to keep going and keep pretending as though you’re fine until you just physically can’t anymore. 

so when you slowly stopped trying until you couldn’t even brush your own hair without his interference, couldn’t shower without him or remember to drink enough water without his constant reminders, it scared the shit out of him. you weren’t you, anymore.

but whatever this was, though — it wasn’t that. this was something far more violent, something that joost couldn’t even let himself consider to be a possibility. still, thinking about something not happening was still thinking about it, and it was making him sweat all the same.

he finally scooped you up by the backs of your knees when your legs started to shake again. he carried you over to the sofa where his ipad lay discarded, still open and running the software he uses to draw up those little animations of his for music videos. you’d heard the thud of it being pushed to the side and then falling off the sofa cushion as you were put down in its place, though you were crawling over to joost the very moment that he’d sat down next to you. 

you were laying your head across his thighs but still turning yourself away so that he couldn’t really see your face. it was less so about not letting him see you and more so about how you’re just unable to bear seeing him seeing you right now. as much as you’ve grown used to needing his help, you still can’t stand the burden that you become to him when you cry. you see it on his face every time; such a severe look of heartsick that it makes you despise yourself for ever daring to fall apart around him. 

it was like that, that the both of you stayed for a while. joost’s fingers found their way back into your hair, tucking random strands behind your ear as he used his other hand to wipe his own tears from his eyes. he could still feel you shaking, almost convulsing on his lap, even though your cries had long since become silent.

“do you want to talk about it?” his voice was unbelievably gentle as he spoke; cracking a little as he tiptoed closer and closer to the conversation. if joost was to push it too much, you’d surely shut down on him.

“i don’t know if i can.”

those six, small words were more than enough to choke you, making you cough and splutter and cry just that little bit harder. as carefully as he could joost helped you sit up, one of his hands rubbing up and down the soft skin of your back as the other cupped your face, his thumb catching your tears and swiping them away. 

“of course you can, honey. it’s just me, remember?”

it was a good point, considering that you’ve never not told him something, ever. still, it made you blubber like a baby, sobbing with your head in your hands as he tried so gently to coax it out of you. and it didn’t take too much, in the end, did it? because after just a few more backrubs and another whispered ‘it’s only me; it’s okay’, it gradually all came spilling out. 

your first few words, your first beyond pitiful attempt at trying to speak, it was near-incomprehensible. you were hiccuping after every syllable; whining after each time that you gagged. except then, only once joost had taken one of your hands in his and with his thumb caressed the skin of your wrist, were you finally able to think. 

you thought about the fear that you felt when that guy first made his threat, how your chest had tightened when he’d smirked at you and winked, leaning over the bar as he did so. you thought about how it had knocked the wind out of you when he got you up against that wall, its rough brick digging into your spine and leaving behind small grazes that still stung. 

god, it had all felt so disgusting, hadn’t it? his hand on your breast, squeezing you through the fabric of your shirt as he’d suddenly leaned in and made you hit your head against the wall. your face had screwed up at the feeling of his mouth on the corner of your lips, his hot, stale breath fanning against your face. you had almost gagged as it happened and you were gagging again now, trying to rub away the spit from your face that was no longer there, before pulling your work polo over your head just to try and get the last little bit of him off of you. 

and then you’d finally made it home and saw those shoes of joost’s being the real tripping hazard that they were, and that’s when it had really begun to feel like the end of the world. because you knew then that you’d have to do this — that you would have to tell him about what had happened and risk breaking his heart, risk losing him.

sure, seeing his shoes there and knowing that he was home and that you were safe, that you could finally, actually breathe now, it had made you feel a little better at first. it has been the thing to first bring those tears to your eyes and a faint wobble to your lip. but then it brought on the panic of actually telling him, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to avoid it, and the not knowing of what his reaction would be.

it wasn’t like you had kissed someone else, but someone else had still kissed you. and even though you already knew deep down that it wasn’t your fault, that you hadn’t asked for it or ever wanted it to happen, it still made you feel just as dirty. as though his hands were still on you and his saliva was still running down your chin, regardless of the fact that you had been fighting to get him off of you the whole time.

and no matter how much you tried to remember that joost would know that too, that it wasn’t your fault because of course it wasn’t, there was still that voice in the back of your mind that told you that this would be the thing to break him. after everything that you’ve put him through lately; all the late nights crying and the early mornings where he had to all but drag you out of bed himself because if he didn’t, then you would’ve just stayed rotting there all day. all the times that he had to coddle you like a child just so you’d actually take care of yourself, and now this? now that another man had touched you in ways that only he ever should, were you even worth it anymore?

except poor joost was just trying to understand what it was that you were actually saying, wasn’t he? because even though the talking had gotten so much easier that you were just rambling now, if anything, it still wasn’t entirely coherent, was it? he’d managed to make out the words ‘work’ and ‘creep’, then ‘followed me’ and ‘kissed’ before you’d pulled your shirt up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra and a pair of work-jeans as you’d wrapped your arms around yourself. 

 it was more than enough for him to fill in all of the blanks on his own. 

and it left him speechless; quietly choking on the salt of his own tears, with a heart so heavy that he could feel it sinking further and further down into his stomach. 

his sniffed, wiping the snot from his nose on the back of his arm before finally pulling you back into him. your head hit his chest, your arms falling loose around his middle as his own wrapped tightly around your shoulders, his chin resting on the top of the crown. 

“i’m so sorry.”

he didn’t have anything to be sorry for.

it wasn’t joost’s fault — nor was it yours, or nieke’s, or anyone else’s. what happened to you, it was just something that happened. something that shouldn’t have but still did, and nothing will come of it besides a few nightmares and a fear of walking home alone that’ll last a couple of months. 

on top of everything else that he does, joost will somehow have to make the time to come meet you after your evening shifts, just so he can walk you back hand in hand. he’ll have to deal with the fact that you probably won’t be getting a good night's sleep for a while now, not that you were anyway, and he’ll have to spend every night consoling you as you cry. he’ll have to spend his days groggy, suffering from his own lack of sleep, with you clung onto him until the very thought of any physical touch starts to repulse you. in a way, joost will face a greater punishment for this than that asshole ever will, and that will be your fault, amongst almost everything else.

the grip that you have on his t-shirt only tightens as you bury your face deeper into his chest, wailing, because it's all just so unfair, isn’t it? it’s not fair that joost is going to rearrange his whole entire life for you now, all because of this, no matter how many times that you’ll tell him not to. it’s not fair that you’ve been robbed of feeling safe at your own fucking job because some stranger thought that you were just too pretty to leave alone. it’s not fair that you asked him, begged him, to stop too many times for you to count and he hadn’t, not until you’d started to make such a scene that you became too much of an inconvenience for him.

“talk to me, honey. what are you thinking right now?”

you shook your head, further smudging your wet mascara along the fabric of his shirt. you missed the way that joost’s frown deepened when you did so, but only because you weren’t talking to him; you were trying to shut him out again. all the while you had been spilling these tears of yours over him, so unbelievably afraid of how all of this would all surely be too much for him, joost was only thinking about you.

he pulled back as gently as he could, letting his hands run down your arms until they were clutching onto yours, giving your palms a soft squeeze.

“put it on me. anything — everything that you’re thinking about. you know you can. please.”

“it’s just not fair, joostie. it’s not fair that i’m trying and it’s not working and it all keeps going wrong; it’s not fair. it shouldn’t be this hard, i shouldn’t have to need you all the time, i should be able to take care of myself, i should be able to stand up for myself when someone first starts bothering me. i shouldn’t be this tired.”

just as your tears had begun to dry, your eyes glossing over as they started to grow heavy, tears of his own started to run down joost’s face. he didn’t move to wipe them, he only tried blinking them away as they fell, as he just sat there quietly and listened. with his heart plummeting down to his feet he gulped, almost choking on the sour taste that your words had left in his mouth.

“sometimes i think that maybe…maybe it would just be easier if i…and after tonight i just, i just can’t…fuck, what if i just -”

“- no. no i know what you’re gonna say and no. i can’t do any of this without you.”

“joost…”

you fell silent when he dropped your hands to cup your cheeks again, tilting your head up slightly so you had nowhere else to look but him. you could feel him shaking, feel the tremble in his hold as he held you like that for a moment just to gaze at you with such soft, sad eyes.

he’d known that this was coming, that you’d come this close to the edge that he’s been so desperately trying to help you crawl away from. he’d felt it from that very first day where you couldn’t get out of bed and he let you stay there, only because it had been the kindest thing to do. 

“i know you think it’s bad to need help and to need someone just to want to wake up in the morning, but that’s how i feel about you too, okay? that’s how much i need you.”  he paused to press a kiss to your forehead before shifting back, finally wiping away the water from his eyes. “does that make you think any less of me?”

“no, no of course not, i -”

“- then why does it make you think so much less of you?”

he’d gotten you there, hadn’t he? had you opening and closing your mouth because every time that you went to speak, you realised that there was nothing left for you to really say other than —

“i’m sorry.” 

you spluttered out the last syllable, the guilt of having gotten it all so wrong becoming wedged inside your throat. “i’m so sorry.”

before you could even really fall he was cradling you again, tucking you up underneath his chin as his arms wrapped all the way around you to pull you closer. the sound of your sobbed-out apologies became muffled when you brought your hands up to your face to cry into them, unable to bear seeing another splotch of dark makeup on his t-shirt. but he still heard it every time that you promised him that you didn’t mean it, didn’t he?

he heard it every time that your voice cracked when you swore that you were just sleep deprived and shaken up by what had happened; that you never should have almost said what you did. and joost knew that was a lie — knew that had you come home to an empty house, it could have been the end of his world just as much as it could have been yours. still, he told you that it was okay; kissing the top of your head every time that you choked on another one of your words. 

though despite it, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop apologising just yet. it all felt so stupid to you now, how you let this thing that happened to you tonight spiral into something surely so much worse than what it needed to be. it made you fall quiet again, suddenly so determined to put on a brave face because of how much you hated how hard joost was still shaking.

“i never should have said that; i’m sorry.”

“stop that, you don’t need to do that.”  you felt him kiss the crown of your head again, his lips lingering there for a second. “just let me take care of you when you need it, yeah? it’s kinda my job, schatje. it’s what i live for.”

all you did was nod, the corners of your mouth twisting up into its first sappy smile in what felt like forever. there was still a part of you deep down that wanted to ask if he was angry at you for scaring him as terribly as you had, for making him cry and worry and coddle you even more than he usually does. but instead you just let that fear sit in the very far corners of your mind until joost broke the silence, his voice still so gentle as he carefully tucked a fallen strand of hair back behind your ear. 

“what do you need right now, honey? what can i do? want me to go break that guy’s kneecaps?”

you managed something of a laugh before you sniffled, coughing a little as you moved round to face him. 

“can you help me quit my job?”