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ebodebo · 3 months ago

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Friends Who Kiss!

with Jason Todd.

...it's okay to kiss a friend. right?

You catch a whiff of cheap beer and weed from a mile away, even before stepping into the party.

The scent hit you like a wall as the door swung open, revealing a crowd of crossfaded college students behind a plastered guy who could barely hold it together.

“Yo! Who brought the strippers?” He shouts, slurring his words, clearly trying to joke about you and your friend.

“Knock it off, dipshit,” your friend shoots back, rolling her eyes as she shoves him aside and reaches for your hand, pulling you inside behind her.

It felt oddly surreal.

You had been to countless college parties at both sororities and fraternities, yet nothing could quite prepare you for the atmosphere of this place.

To your left, a couple was grinding, nearing dry-humping, against each other on the tattered couch.

To your right, a group of friends were passing around a blunt, all while downing shots of vodka.

And ahead of you and your friend, a raucous game of strip beer pong was in full swing.

The two guys, their competitive spirits high, were down to their boxers while the girls remained fully clothed.

Who knew that most college guys, the self-proclaimed beer pong champions, were so ass at the game?

As you approached the kitchen, the smell of stale beer and sweat hit you. "You want a drink?" Your friend chimes, her voice barely audible over the thumping bass.

Her hand was already reaching for two plastic cups and a bottle of straight Jägermeister.

"Getting straight to it, huh?" You reply, grinning as she pours a heaping shot for herself.

"Gonna need the alcohol to deal with these fucking moron guys," she laughs, automatically pouring a shot for you too.

"You know I have an eight a.m. tomorrow?" You raise an eyebrow as she slides the liquor your way.

With a smile, she takes hold of her plastic cup. "All the more reason for you to drink," she replies, her lips brushing the rim.

"You're a bad girl," you tease, a playful spark in your eye as you quickly grab the cup and bring it to your lips.

"The baddest," she purrs, and you both down the shot in unison.

The tangy citrus liquor burns as it goes down, leaving a fiery trail in its wake.

"Tastes like shit," you hiss, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as the intense aroma lingers on your tongue.

"All the booze that gets you fucked up tastes like shit," she corrects, picking up a left-out slice of lime and sucking the juice from it.

"Here," she offers you a fresh lime wedge.

You bite into the wedge, the juice washing away the harsh taste of the potent liqueur.

"Let’s pour another," your friend suggests, already reaching for the bottle of Fireball on the counter.

You roll your eyes but didn’t turn down the offer.

After all, you had been pretty good these last couple of months, only enjoying the occasional glass of wine.

As she fills the plastic cups with whiskey, the remnants of Jägermeister mingling with the liqueur, you notice some commotion by the entrance.

Your gaze drifted over to the front door, curious about the sudden influx of people that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

"I knew you’d show up!" A guy shouted excitedly.

"Dude, you've got to try this new stuff I brought back from Ibiza!" Another one yelled.

"What’s all the fuss about over there?" Your friend remarks, Fireball dripping from her lip down to her chin in her usual carefree style.

You side-eye her, glancing at her now empty cup.

"Sorry! It was just calling to me," she says, raising her hands in mock surrender.

"It’s a liquid," you reply dryly, adding to the playful banter.

"It was!" She insists with a grin.

You roll your eyes at her playful antics and turn your attention back to the commotion, where an apparent celebrity has caught everyone’s attention.

To your surprise, it was Jason, someone you recognized well, making his way through the crowd.

Guys were clapping him on the shoulder, and girls were gazing at him as he passed by.

A truly ridiculous sight.

When his eyes locked onto yours, he veered off course and headed straight towards you and your friend.

You shook off your disbelief and chuckled as he approached.

"Ladies," he greets with a smile.

"Hi, Jason," your friend timidly greets.

"Blondie," he tips his head towards her.

"Big man on campus, huh?" You tease, a playful glint in your eye.

He shrugs, rolling his eyes. "You know how they are."

"Thought you'd be in Gotham tonight?" You cut in before he can greet you separately, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

"Eh. Plans changed," he remarks, a sly smirk on his lips.

You pick up the plastic cup with Fireball, placing the rim on your lips. "Have they?"

"Yeah," his eyes wander to your cup. "You gonna drink that?"

"I was planning to—" You begin before Jason takes the cup and downs it in one gulp.

"Sorry. Was a little thirsty," he suspires, wiping the alcohol from his lips.

Your eyes narrow. "Yeah. I'd say so."

"Well...I'm gonna leave you too," your friend beside you says. "Nice to see you, Jason," she beams.

"Likewise," he winks at her as she walks away, almost hitting the wall. "She's cute," he remarks.

"What were your plans before you detoured here?" You ask, eyebrow raised, paying no mind to his previous comment.

"That's classified, Sweetheart," he says, his voice a mix of authority and warmth.

"Oh, right," you nod along, moving closer to him. "I almost forgot you habitually swing around Gotham at night."

"Hey, hey!" He mutters, ushering you to a nearby empty hallway. "What the hell is up with you?" Concern laces his tone.

"You totally flaked on me yesterday," you mutter, annoyance in your tone. "Had to go eat dinner with my mom alone."

"What do you—oh shit," he sighs, realization dawning on him. "That was yesterday?"

You nod. "Yeah, and you ditched me."

He runs a hand over his face, a mix of frustration and regret evident in his expression. "I'm—fuck. I'm really sorry."

There is sincerity in his tone, but you’re not ready to let him off that easily.

You wanted to bust his balls a little.

"I'm still mad at you," you say, turning your head away from him and crossing your arms.

He lets out a breathy laugh at your display. "Is that how it's gonna be?" He remarks, his voice low.

"Seems so," you reply matter-of-factly.

"That's a shame," he mutters gruffly.

You glance at him, arms still crossed. "Why's that?"

"Well…I just. Nah. Never mind," he says, raising his hands as if to shoo away the question.

You turn to face him fully. "Now you have to tell me!" You exclaim, playfully pushing his shoulder with your hand.

"I was just thinking we could, you know, do another shot?" He suggests. "Have a little fun?"

You purse your lips. "Hmm. It depends on what the shots are."

He smiles. "Whatever the hell you want."

You give him a curt nod, satisfied with his answer. "Good answer."

Grabbing him by the forearm, you pull him back to the kitchen, where you pour a mixture of whiskey, vodka, and juice into two plastic cups.

"This is gonna taste like shit," Jason groans as he peers into the cup on the counter.

"Yeah, but it's what I want," you pass him the cup, taking the other in your hand.

He rolls his eyes playfully. "Okay, okay."

You both knock back the shots simultaneously.

It tastes...well, like shit.

But, whatever.

You just wanted to get fucked up.

And maybe bust Jason's balls some more.

Only time will tell.

"We can't. We're just friends," you murmur, a hint of desperation in your voice.

You've known Jason for years, and your friendship has always been a safe haven, a place where you could be yourself without any romantic complications.

But tonight, something has changed.

"Come on, Sweetheart," Jason coaxes. "We can have fun. Can't we?"

You're struggling to understand how this unexpected turn of events has shaped your night.

You and Jason weren't even really that drunk, just tipsy.

Not slurring words or wobbly when walking, just loose lips apparently.

After that weird cocktail mix you made, you and Jason took one more shot of straight vodka, made your way to one of the rooms off the kitchen, and simply sat on the ground in front of the bed and talked.

Talked for how long?

You're not entirely sure.

But somewhere in between talking about your exam next Wednesday and Jason's nights spent as a vigilante, things became more intimate.

Because now he was trying to convince you that one kiss won't hurt.

You do want to kiss him.

Desperately actually.

But the fear of losing his friendship or changing the dynamics holds you back.

"I don't know..." You trail off as Jason's hand brushes against your cheek. "Won't it be weird after?"

"Not if we don't make it weird," he hums, eyes staring at your lips.

You release a small breath as his hand moves to cup your jaw.

"You tell me no if you don't want to," his voice is serious, and his eyes lock with yours.

You nod, teeth digging into your lip. "I think...just a small kiss won't hurt. Right?" You try to convince yourself as you find yourself leaning closer.

"Yeah," he says mechanically. "Small," he affirms as his lips press into yours.

You weren't entirely sure what you expected, but, holy shit, it wasn't this.

Your skin sizzled, and a fire ignited in your stomach.

His lips were so soft against yours.

Although it was meant to be a brief kiss, just a fleeting moment of connection you both knew you shouldn't indulge in, the pull was too strong and the desire too intense to resist.

It was a battle you were losing, and you didn't even want to win.

Your lips moved in perfect sync.

Why the hell would you want to stop that?

You placed your hand gently on his jaw, drawing him closer and deepening the kiss.

A soft groan escapes from him, and you catch it in your mouth, causing you to whimper.

Jason can't help it.

The soft sounds you were making were slowly driving him up the wall.

His hands moved to grip your waist, pulling you onto him so you straddle him.

You never stop kissing him.

Not even to complain about him moving you onto his lap.

You can't even find it in you to be bothered.

Your hands are moving through his hair, as his messily skim over your hips, occasionally squeezing your ass.

"Can’t believe I waited so long to kiss you," he whispers against your lips.

"Feels so good."

A soft moan escapes your lips at his compliment, and you can feel a wave of tingles spreading over your skin.

"Yeah?" You murmur, your teeth playfully nibbling at his bottom lip.

"Oh fuck," he mumbles, fingers digging into your waist.

His heavy-lidded gaze catches yours. "Yeah, feels so good, Baby."

You let out a soft breath in response to his endearing words. "Should we...stop?" you ask hesitantly, your fingers gently running through his hair.

Internally, hoping he says no.

“No, Sweetheart,” he replies softly, his gaze fixed on your lips with undeniable fascination. “Unless you want to.”

Just as you’re about to respond, a loud banging on the door startles both you and Jason.

"Occupied!" You shout back, turning towards the door.

You shift your focus back to Jason's eyes, and in that moment, something pulls you back into reality.

"Oh, fuck," you exclaim, shifting off his lap and settling onto the carpet beside him instead.

"You oka—" Jason begins, sensing your frenzy before you interrupt him.

"Oh my God. We totally just made out," your hands are anxiously gliding through your hair. "And I liked it!"

Jason lets out a shallow laugh as his hand gently rests against your shoulder. "It's alright," he coos. “I liked it, too."

Your eyes flick to his. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, it was...really nice," he awkwardly says.

Your lip quips at his awkwardness. "It was," you agree.

"Listen, I—" He starts to say, but is cut off once more by a notification on his phone. It’s from Barbara, alerting him about a local crime circuit in Blüdhaven.

"Shit," he curses as he moves to stand. "I'm really sorry. I have to—"

"It's okay, Jason. I get it," you say with complete assurance. "Gotta go play vigilante."

"I'm in a rush, so I'm not going to touch on that," he shoves the phone into his pocket. "Can I come by your dorm after?" He carefully asks.

"Yeah. Okay..." You nod your head, pursing your lips awkwardly.

"You're being weird about it," Jason tips his head down.

"No! No! I just...let's talk later, alright?" You exhale deeply, doing your best to suppress your shyness.

He gives a nod before leaning down to kiss your forehead, then turns and walks out of the bedroom.

As he steps out, you lean your head against the bed's edge, allowing yourself to dive deep into your thoughts.

It wouldn't be the worst if you and Jason started dating.

If that's what he wanted.

He's kind, charming, and quite attractive.

You're unsure if it's just your inebriated state of mind.

But then you remember drunk words are sober thoughts.

So, yeah…you may be totally crushing on one of your greatest friends.

There are worse things to have happened.

author’s note: sorry to tease, but writing smut is too much atm lol also tried a new format hehe i’m kind of feeling it. not proofread!

divider by @/saradika-graphics!

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manicmanuscription · 5 months ago

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By The Candlelight

Pairing(s): Azriel x Reader

Summary: When you and Azriel finally get a chance to sleep after traveling for so long he gets a glimpse of you through your shadow being reflected.

Word Count: 1041

Warnings: Mutual Pining, slight seduction, Azriel being a mess over reader. Forced proximity. Mostly written in Azriel's perspective.

Based on the request here. Thank you so much for your request enjoy!

acotar masterlist | main masterlist

divider by @cafekitsune

“Sorry.” Azriel had murmured as you finally, finally, reached the safe house. Although ‘house’ probably wasn’t the best term. It was more of a single room with walls. It could barely fit Azriel and his large frame but at least there was a small mattress and a sink so you weren’t complaining, happy to just finally be out of the cold and have the chance to rid your rain soaked leathers. “It’s usually just me staying here.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve stayed in worse.” You chirped, throwing your go-back on the mattress rifling through it as you looked for a change of clothes pulling out various daggers, healing potions and salves, and of course a few necessities for your hair.

“Sorry I was added to the mission so late. I don't mean to overstep or be a burden.” You mentioned a pang of guilt pulling on your heart.

“You are not a burden.” Azriel said quickly from behind you. You ignored the way your stomach flipped at the determination in his words.

A few moments of silence passed, the rain beating against the wooden walls, the very faint hum of magic as the few wards strained to keep this place concealed and warm.

Azriel shuffled closer so you were now standing shoulder to shoulder, his hand slightly brushing against yours and his breath hitched at the contact. He picked up your hairbrush and what looked like to be a bottle of face wash. “Really?” The Shadowsinger teased. “Rhys told us to pack light.”

You flashed him a smile, snatching the items from his hands. “I may be a Spy, Azriel but I am still a female.” You said with a playful smile, simply brushing your wet hair over your shoulder. Your smile, the way you said his names- gods- it had his knees buckling slightly.

You picked up your bundle of fresh clothes after stuffing everything else that wasn’t needed back in your bag and faced Azriel a few beats of silence passing, your face inches apart. He was too focused by the faint blush on your cheeks to notice your timidness as you spoke shyly.

“I..need to change.” Your voice broke the moment of staring and Azriel cleared his throat. “Of course, my apologies.” He moved towards the door, a miracle it was still on its hinges, his hands brushing against the wooden knob when you spoke again. “You…don’t have to go outside, it's raining pretty bad.”

Azriel froze momentarily. His heart was pounding in his ears, he was sure it roared louder than the clap of thunder that rolled across the mountain. Lightning was next, flashes of it echoing through small cracks in the walls.

“Alright.” Azriel finally spoke, his voice hoarse and he slid his hands in his pockets trying to hide the slight tremor that ran through them. He still faced the door but took a step back inside if only to appease you.

He could hear your clothing being removed from behind him and a lump formed in his throat as lust and imagination clashed in his mind.

A few candles had automatically lit as the door opened when you two arrived and their light stayed a strong steady presence. He did his best to ignore your shadow perfectly casted on the wall, yet each movement you made had his eyes straying to the illusion there. The tiny space made your silhouette as accurate as possible and he did his best to breath through the desire that hit him like a brick.

He needed you more than he needed anything or anyone in his life and right now you were playing a dangerous game, albeit unknowingly.

He couldn’t even feel the wetness that seeped into his leathers, no longer feeling the cold that had settled so firmly. His shadows dispersed even further away from him, settling underneath floorboards and cracks in the walls, their absence somehow making the candles brighter and his breath hitched as your shadow enhanced at the new light. He hissed under his breath and his shadows laughed at his dilemma.

A few more minutes of intense silence passed and he tried to focus on the rain, on the cracks in the floorboard, yet his eyes could not stop straying to your shadow, to your curves and elegant movement.

Azriel was sure his breathing had stopped and his mind had emptied of all other thought’s that weren’t about you. He was clenching his teeth so hard they might break. Shame and guilt tingled in his gut yet he could not look away.

Everything about you enchanted him and knowing that you were changing just a few paces behind him, knowing that you trusted him enough to do that? His cock struggled in the confine of his pants and his mind whirred at the possibilities.

“Alright.” You spoke gently and he turned around slowly, drinking you in. You were wearing an old t-shirt that seemed just a little bit too big for you and some long sweatpants that hugged your thighs perfectly. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, staring at you with that intensity he always seemed to possess.

“Hope I didn’t take too long.” You whispered and he shook his head no, not trusting his voice.

He was entranced with your movements as you set your bag on the floor, sliding underneath the covers of the mattress and moved over, very deliberately leaving a space for him there and his heart was going a million miles a minute, his breathing stopped as you started talking once again, it took him a minute to process your words as the sound of your voice hummed in his chest pleasantly, drowning everything else out.

There was only you.

“Make sure to dry off before coming to bed.”

He nodded, turning around and running his hands through his hair, trying to calm his heart and steady his breathing. Did you not see how you were affecting him?

How having you so close yet so far was physically painful. He ached for you and silently cursed Rhys for this mission. Azriel rolled his shoulders and reached for his own bag. His hearing hyper focused on the sound of your breathing, on every shift you made in the bed.

Gods you were going to be the death of him.

#azriel fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel pining #acotar #acotar fanfic #one shot #seduction #forced proximity #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #acotar fic

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rosachae · 11 days ago

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more than a game | lara raj x reader

⁍ song: sienna - the marías ⁍ genre: AU! fluffy, happy endings. tennisplayer!lara x physiotherapist!y/n. ultimately, just a story about two girls who are very much not over eachother. right person, wrong time-- except the right time is now. ⁍ wc: 8.3k ⁍ warnings: mentions of injury, nothing major. ⁍ synopsis:

lara broke up with y/n at the end of highschool to pursue her dreams as a professional tennis player. when she was faced with the decision, it wasn't made easily, but she convinced herself it was necessary. that was until she sustains an injury before an upcoming tournament and her new physiotherapist happens to be the very girl she left behind.

y/n had known for three days. three full days since the email arrived in her inbox, all official and sterile and life-ruining.

lara raj — pcl strain, grade I — primary physiotherapy care assigned to: y/n y/l/n.

she hadn’t slept properly since. part of her almost regretted responding to manon’s email, the manager of the girl who split her world in two the day she left. she’d tried to tell herself it would be fine, that it had been a year, that she was a professional, that her heart no longer lived in the hands of a girl who smiled like sin and kissed like salvation. but none of it held up. not when she was standing just inside the rehab suite now, stomach in knots, lungs refusing to inflate past surface level. she heard manon say her name before she even saw her.

“lara, this is y/n, your new physiotherapist.”

and there she was.

lara sat on the edge of the treatment table, long legs crossed at the ankles, her right knee gently elevated with a foam bolster. the navy skirt of her tennis kit curved along the defined line of her thigh, a shade darker than her skin. her top was cropped and sleeveless, loose in the back where it bared a long, toned stretch of muscle. her hair was swept to the side, no longer dyed red like it has been in their senior year of highschool. it was black now, natural and perfect against her complexion. strands fell loose along her cheekbones, which were as sculpted as y/n remembered. she looked unfair. poised and calm and glowing, even under the flat clinical lighting. and when her gaze found y/n, she didn’t falter.

“nice to meet you,” lara said, smooth as a drop shot.

her voice hadn’t changed. low, cool, deceptively soft. like velvet wrapped around something pointed. and she said it—nice to meet you—like they were strangers. like she hadn’t once taught y/n how to hit a forehand in the rain and kissed her under the awning when she got it right. like she hadn’t broken her heart with an apology and a plane ticket and a “you know i have to chase this.”

y/n forced her lips into something resembling a smile. she prayed it didn’t look like a grimace.

“you too,” she replied, automatically, stepping forward to shake her hand.

lara’s palm was warm, firm. confident. y/n’s was clammy, cold. of course it was.

“y/n’s got a stellar background,” manon went on, still cheerfully unaware of the emotional wreckage she’d just reassembled in one room. “sports therapy, rehabilitative training, joint mechanics—you’re in very good hands.”

lara tilted her head slightly, her gaze still lingering on y/n like she was seeing through every layer of her.

“looking forward to it,” she murmured, smiling with all the grace of someone who absolutely was not.

not genuinely, anyway. y/n knew that smile too well. she’d studied it, memorized what it meant. this was the smile lara wore when she knew she was holding the upper hand. this was the smile that had once made y/n say yes to sneaking out of a biology exam just to drive around aimlessly and listen to music with the windows down. the smile that had y/n’s heart beating rapidly in her chest, just as it had all other times before.

manon clapped her hands gently. “great. we’ll ease you in today, no pressure—just letting y/n get acquainted with your injury and the facility.”

lara nodded, cool and agreeable. “works for me.”

and then manon turned to leave, her heels tapping softly out the door. the click of it shutting behind her sounded more final than it should have. the silence that followed was thick and oddly charged.

lara shifted, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. her toned arms caught the light in just the right way, and her smirk came back, subtle this time.

“so doc,” she said, voice low, “you’re gonna be the one fixing me?”

y/n straightened her spine automatically, willing her pulse to behave. “physically,” she replied, keeping it clinical.

lara laughed. a low, amused sound that wrapped itself around y/n’s ribcage and tugged.

“you’re still funny,” lara said. “that’s nice.”

“you’re still...” y/n started, then caught herself and cleared her throat. “you strained your posterior cruciate ligament—likely from overextension during a pivot or landing. based on your imaging and the initial pain markers, we’re looking at a low-grade strain. not a tear, but if you don’t rest and stabilize it, it could worsen. you need to stay off it for the next few days before we begin any weight-bearing exercises.”

lara raised an eyebrow, like she found the lecture charming. “posterior cruciate ligament,” she repeated, slow and deliberate. “so formal.”

“it’s your knee,” y/n deadpanned. “i don’t know how else to explain what’s wrong without sounding like a quack.”

lara grinned. “i missed your mouth.”

y/n choked on air. “excuse me?”

“your words,” lara amended innocently. “you’ve always been good with them.”

y/n stared at her, trying very hard not to fall into the gravity of that grin. or the memory of it. or how it used to tug at the corner of her mouth when she was about to say something that would wreck y/n’s whole afternoon. she looked down at her clipboard instead. empty. entirely unhelpful.

“sessions start tomorrow,” she said, mostly to the paper.

lara leaned back, stretching just enough to make it obvious. “can’t wait.”

y/n turned to go, her heart pounding against her ribs like it was trying to escape. but before she could reach the door, lara’s voice came again. quiet, teasing, but just loud enough for her to hear.

“you still get nervous around me, huh?”

y/n didn’t answer. she didn’t need to. she kept on walking, leaving lara alone in the room.

the very second the door shut firm behind herself, she sprung into action. she tried so desperately to play it cool, to not let herself be caught internally fawning over the girl who still managed to set her soul alight. alas, it was near impossible.

her footsteps carried her very pointedly in a single direction. the door to a small office, only a couple rooms down in the rehab wing, slammed open so hard it bounced off the stopper with a hollow clang.

sophia didn’t even blink.

she was kneeling on a foam mat beside one of the treatment benches, unbothered, guiding her client— choi soobin, pro tennis player and her assigned disaster for the next six weeks—into a deep mobility stretch. one hand anchored his wrist while the other pressed lightly between his shoulder blades, nudging him deeper into position. her expression was the same one she always wore when y/n burst in like this: calm, vaguely unimpressed, and only mildly entertained.

“i’m going to die,” y/n announced, dramatic and breathless.

“hi,” sophia said flatly. “welcome.”

soobin made a small sound, halfway between a grunt and a question. “is that, like… literal or—”

“not you,” y/n snapped, waving him off like static.

he blinked and went quiet again, wise enough to stay out of it as the temperature in the room shifted to match y/n’s spiraling heartbeat.

she dropped her bag on the nearest table with a thud, like it had personally offended her. “it’s her,” she said, breathless. “lara.”

sophia didn’t react at first. just adjusted soobin’s elbow with clinical precision. “lara… raj?”

“yes, lara raj. as in the client i was assigned. as in the literal love of my life and the reason i have abandonment issues.”

sophia hummed. “you’ve known this for three days.”

“i didn’t think it’d be her her!” y/n threw her hands up. “i thought maybe it was a different lara raj. or maybe i hallucinated the email. or maybe the universe would do me one small favor and make her ugly.”

soobin opened his mouth again, cautiously. “so you guys—”

“shut up,” sophia and y/n said at the same time.

sophia pushed his shoulder forward an inch farther. he let out a wheeze and didn’t try again.

y/n started pacing in a tight, agitated loop, like if she stopped moving she might implode. “i walked in and there she was. sitting all casual, legs crossed, like she didn’t ruin my life. still tall. still glowing. still smelling like coconut shampoo.”

“you’re kidding.”

“i’m dead serious. she looked me in the eye and said, ‘nice to meet you.’ like we didn’t know each other. like i didn’t write her a poem.”

sophia winced. “you did write her a poem.”

“and she loved it.”

“it was terrible.”

“well she thought it was nice!”

sophia didn’t argue. instead, she shifted soobin into a seated hamstring stretch without warning. he yelped. she ignored it.

y/n flopped face-down onto the bench beside them. “and then she smiled. the smile.”

“not the smile.”

“the smile,” y/n groaned. “the one that made me skip calculus to get froyo. the one that made me forget what state i lived in. it’s like it’s engineered to dismantle my sense of self.”

“she’s always been terrifyingly pretty.”

“she’s prettier now. it’s criminal. i should report her.”

sophia offered no sympathy. “and you’re still in love with her.”

“i’m not,” y/n said, muffled against the bench cushion.

“sure.”

“i’m not! i’m just... disoriented. and stressed. and probably dehydrated.”

“and in love with her.”

y/n rolled over and covered her face with her hands. “i can’t do this for ten days. she’s already trying to flirt. i can feel it.”

sophia actually laughed. laughed. y/n lifted her head, betrayed.

“you’re enjoying this.”

“a little,” sophia said. “but also? you’ve been fake-mad about her for a year. now she’s here, and you have ten uninterrupted days of forced proximity. that’s karma.”

“that’s a romcom,” y/n muttered darkly. “i don’t want a romcom. i want a sedative.”

“you want to make out with her.”

“i want peace.”

soobin groaned softly as sophia rotated his hip outward.

“breathe through it,” she said, voice sweet, hands merciless.

y/n groaned, low and dramatic, and dragged both hands down her face like she could wipe away the memory of lara’s smirk. “she called me doc.”

sophia tilted her head. “you are a doctor.”

“yeah, but not like that. she said it in the voice. you know the one. the voice she used when she used to ask if i was free after practice, and then we’d end up making out behind the bleachers for forty minutes.”

“forty?” sophia asked, skeptical.

“it felt like forty.”

“it was, like, eleven.”

“emotionally, it was forty.”

soobin made another quiet noise of protest as sophia twisted his torso into a deep spinal rotation. she kept her grip firm and her expression neutral, like she wasn’t witnessing a slow emotional meltdown three feet to her left.

“and the skirt,” y/n continued, helpless. “why does she have to sit like that? with her knee up and her arm draped all confident, like she’s in an adidas ad and knows i’m dying inside?”

“because she does know you’re dying inside.”

y/n pointed a finger at her. “traitor.”

“realist,” sophia said. “look, i love you, but you have exactly two emotional modes when it comes to lara raj: ‘still in love’ and ‘fully feral.’”

“i am not fully feral.”

sophia raised a brow.

“okay, maybe a little feral,” y/n admitted. “but only internally.”

“mm-hm.”

y/n stared up at the ceiling tiles like they held answers. “she’s going to ruin me.”

“probably,” sophia said cheerfully.

“i’ll lose my license.”

“unlikely.”

“i’ll cry in the supply closet.”

“that one’s more likely.”

y/n sat up, eyes wide. “what if she’s trying to mess with me? what if this is her revenge arc?”

“revenge for what?”

“i don’t know! leaving her unread on valentine’s day senior year? forgetting her dog’s name that one time?”

sophia laughed. “she did hold a grudge about the dog thing.”

“it was an ugly dog!”

soobin exhaled loudly as sophia released the stretch. he looked faintly shell-shocked, like he’d just lived through a natural disaster and wasn’t totally sure if it was over yet.

“we done?” he asked, hopeful.

“almost,” sophia said, moving behind him. “one more set.”

he whimpered.

“you’re doing great,” she said, like a lie.

y/n leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “i think i blacked out when she said ‘nice to meet you.’ my soul left my body. i became a ghost.”

“you are pale,” sophia agreed.

“do you think she really forgot me?”

“no.”

“do you think she pretended to forget me?”

“yes.”

“psychopath,” y/n whispered.

“welcome to women’s tennis,” sophia said.

“i’m not going to survive ten days.”

“you’re going to survive exactly ten days,” sophia corrected. “and then you’re either going to get closure, or make out in a supply closet, or cry about it for another year. all of which are valid.”

y/n looked haunted. “what if she asks me to stretch her hamstrings?”

“then you remember your degree,” sophia said. “and your ethics. and maybe bring a cold compress for your face.”

soobin pushed himself upright with great effort, limbs slow and stiff like a baby deer learning to walk. he hovered awkwardly beside the mat, blinking at both of them, looking between them like a kid caught between two divorced parents mid-argument. “i feel like i just sat through a fight i wasn’t supposed to hear.”

“you did,” sophia said, unfazed.

“it’s good for you,” y/n added, dragging a hand down her face. “builds empathy.”

he stared at them for a beat, visibly trying to process the emotional whiplash. then he sighed, long and beleaguered. “i want a different therapist.”

“file a complaint,” sophia said, already resetting the mat with clinical efficiency. “y/n will write you a poem about it.”

“it’ll be terrible,” y/n warned.

“but heartfelt,” sophia added.

soobin muttered something under his breath and walked off like a man who’d just survived a natural disaster and wasn’t sure if it would come back for round two.

the door swung shut behind soobin with a soft click, and the room fell quiet in his absence. without his awkward commentary or the false comfort of banter to fill the space, the tension settled again—this time softer, heavier. y/n sat back against the bench, arms wrapped loosely around herself like she was trying to hold something in. or keep something out.

sophia glanced over, her expression finally shifting—less amused now, more open. steady.

“you okay?” she asked, voice gentler than before.

y/n let out a slow breath. “i don’t know.”

she sounded smaller than usual. not the flustered storm that had barreled through the door earlier, but something quieter. unraveling.

sophia moved to sit beside her, their shoulders almost touching. “you want to talk about it?”

“what’s there to talk about?” y/n stared at the floor. “she left. she broke my heart. i thought i moved on. and then i saw her and it’s like—i don’t know. it’s like no time passed. like all the stuff i buried just came back.”

“of course it did,” sophia said. “it’s not a switch. you don’t flip it off and forget her.”

y/n nodded slowly, eyes unfocused. “she looked right at me. and smiled like nothing happened. like we were strangers.”

“maybe she didn’t know what to say,” sophia offered. “maybe that was her version of keeping it professional.”

“or maybe she really doesn’t care anymore,” y/n said, and her voice cracked on the last word. “and i’m just the only one still carrying it.”

sophia didn’t say anything at first. just let the silence sit. let it breathe.

“you’re not,” she said eventually. “i’ve seen a lot of people try to fake it, but you don’t forget someone you loved just because a year went by. and you don’t talk about someone like this unless you still feel something.”

y/n blinked hard, swallowing. “then why didn’t she say anything? why pretend we never happened?”

“because it’s easier to pretend than admit you left someone behind,” sophia said. “especially when you don’t know if they’ll forgive you.”

that struck something. y/n’s throat tightened.

sophia bumped her shoulder gently. “you don’t have to fix anything. and you don’t owe her forgiveness. but if she’s really here—and if you’re still feeling all of this—then maybe it’s worth seeing what’s left. for closure. or clarity. or whatever it is you need.”

y/n was quiet for a long moment.

“what if it just hurts again?” she asked softly.

“then at least you’ll know,” sophia said. “and you’ll stop wondering.”

y/n looked over at her, eyes tired but grateful. “why are you always right?”

sophia smiled. “i’m not. i just love you. and i don’t want you carrying this forever.”

y/n leaned her head against her shoulder, the weight of it finally too much to hold alone. for a few moments, they just sat like that. no jokes, no dramatics. just the kind of quiet that comes when someone understands you enough not to fill it.

“i’m scared,” y/n admitted.

“i know,” sophia said. “but you’re braver than you think.”

and y/n believed her. or at least, she wanted to. and maybe—for now—that was enough.

she had ten days to see this thing through. she could only hope lara didn’t kill her before their time was up.

the next morning came by faster than expected, and sure enough, lara was already on the table when y/n walked in, reclined back on her elbows, tossing a stress ball into the air like it had personally wronged her. her hair was pulled up, skin flushed faintly from the earlier warm-up. she looked like she owned the room. like she always did.

she grinned. “took you long enough,” she said. “was starting to think you were scared of me.”

“i was,” y/n replied flatly, setting her clipboard on the counter with a little more force than necessary. “but then i remembered you’re the one who can’t walk properly.”

lara’s grin only widened. “ah. there she is.”

y/n didn’t return it. she gestured toward the table. “lie flat.”

lara obeyed, still smirking. “aren’t you going to ask how i’ve been?”

“no.”

“rude.”

y/n didn’t respond. her hands found their rhythm—methodical, careful, clinical. she started with palpation, fingers moving around the swelling, pressing gently, checking for heat, tenderness, guarding. she catalogued it all, let her body do the remembering so her mind didn’t have to.

but it did anyway.

lara’s skin was warm. familiar. same tan lines, same faint scar from that time she tripped over a ball cart during warm-ups and refused to let the trainer stitch it. same muscle under y/n’s palm that used to curl around her waist in the mornings, anchoring her in place.

y/n swallowed. kept her face neutral.

the silence stretched. it used to be comfortable, safe, even. now it just felt like a fuse waiting to burn out.

her fingers shifted slightly, pressing into the muscle just above lara’s knee, and it was muscle memory more than anything. not just the physio work—though she knew this anatomy like second nature—but all the rest of it, too. she remembered tracing these lines with her mouth. remembered lara half-asleep, limbs tangled with hers, mumbling dumb things into her neck. remembered this exact thigh wrapped around her hips, pulling her closer, always closer.

her hand stilled.

she breathed in, slow and steady, grounding herself in the sterile clinic air and the clipboard waiting across the room. not the way lara’s breath had just hitched. not the way it always used to.

y/n refocused. pressed down with more intent this time, dragging her thumb along the medial border like she was following a map she helped draw.

lara exhaled sharply, more surprise than pain, and y/n blinked hard, looking away.

it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. it wasn’t supposed to still be like this. they hadn’t even spoken after the breakup. not really. no closure, no friendship attempt, just a clean split followed by radio silence. y/n had buried it, like everything else. and yet here she was, elbow-deep in lara raj’s thigh and halfway to a breakdown.

she hated how easy it was to fall back into orbit. how close lara felt, even after everything. like no time had passed at all.

lara broke it first. “you still do that thing when you’re concentrating. the lip thing.”

y/n paused. “what thing.”

“bite the inside. right side.” lara turned her head, voice softening without losing its edge. “used to drive me crazy.”

y/n’s jaw ticked. “flex your quad for me.”

lara did. the muscle fired under her palm. automatic, precise. y/n nodded once and stepped away, scribbling something she wouldn’t be able to read later.

lara watched her. “you’re different.”

y/n flipped the page without looking up. “you’re not. still think flirting is a personality.”

“you used to like it.”

“you used to mean it.”

silence again. heavier, this time. like a bruise pressed too hard. y/n didn’t dare look at her.

after a moment: “okay,” she said quietly. “let’s start with some range of motion work. we’ll go slow. tell me if anything feels off.”

lara lifted a brow. “like your attitude?”

y/n just stared at her—the kind of look that used to be followed by a kiss or a slammed door. lara sighed and lay back again, one arm flung lazily over her head.

“fine, fine. i’ll behave.”

y/n didn’t answer, but her hands were steady as she guided the knee. internal rotation, external, slow flexion. she moved on instinct, trying not to notice the way lara kept making faces—these dramatic, exaggerated winces every time her fingers so much as grazed too close.

“are you always this dramatic?” y/n muttered, adjusting her grip on lara’s thigh.

“only when i’m being manhandled by an ex,” lara replied smoothly, eyes flicking to hers.

y/n’s mouth opened, closed. “jesus christ,” she muttered.

lara hummed. “you’ve gotten stronger. must be all those lonely nights at the gym.”

and that was it. y/n pulled just a little too hard on the next stretch.

lara yelped. “ow—okay! okay! what the hell, are you trying to tear it more?”

“you always did like it rough,” y/n said before she could stop herself. and immediately wanted to crawl into the floor.

lara laughed. loud and shameless, the kind of laugh that used to shake the sheets. y/n clenched her jaw and stared at the floor, actively resisting the urge to bang her head against the nearest resistance band hook.

“don’t make me laugh,” lara gasped, breath catching. “it makes the pain worse.”

“good.”

“you’re so mean now. it’s hot.”

y/n didn’t respond. she was too busy pressing into the medial thigh, deep tissue work that should’ve required all her focus. but all she could think about was how soft the skin felt. how close her face was to lara’s knee. how the air between them was thick with something unspoken and impossible to forget.

lara wiggled her foot. “you’re making that face again.”

“what face.”

“the one where you look like you want to punch me but also maybe kiss me.”

y/n jerked back like she’d been stung. her thumb left a sharp red streak along the inside of lara’s thigh. not intentional. not really. but it stood out. hot. bright. incriminating.

and that was exactly when the door creaked open.

manon stepped in, sunglasses perched on her head, a smoothie in one hand and a familiar glint in her eye. she stopped cold just inside the room, blinking once at the scene in front of her—lara flushed and sprawled on the table, thigh streaked with red, y/n stiff as a corpse and visibly sweating.

“jesus christ,” manon said. “do you two need a room?”

lara looked down and burst out laughing. “is that a hickey?”

“it’s not a hickey,” y/n said quickly, voice cracking like glass under pressure.

manon raised a brow. “sure it’s not. just a little physio love bite.” she held up her smoothie. “anyway, didn’t mean to interrupt your foreplay. i actually came with news.”

lara blinked, still breathless from laughing. “what news?”

“you’re in,” manon said, like it was obvious. “tournament officials accepted your wildcard. the final matches have been postponed for your recovery. you’re on the roster.”

lara sat up straighter. “you’re serious?”

manon grinned. “deadly. congrats, raj.”

the glow on lara’s face was immediate. relief. pride. something almost childlike in how it lit her up. she reached for the tablet manon had tucked under her arm and flipped to the schedule.

and just like that, the light dimmed.

her smile faltered as her eyes landed on the name next to hers in the bracket. daniela avanzini. reigning champ. already being called the next big thing by every major sports outlet.

lara didn’t say anything, but y/n saw it. the shift. the stillness. how her mouth flattened slightly, jaw locking into place.

manon didn’t seem to notice. she gave a dramatic bow and backed toward the door, tossing a wink over her shoulder. “celebrate later, yeah? just not on the treatment table.”

then she was gone. the door clicked shut behind her.

y/n didn’t move at first. just watched lara staring at the tablet like it had personally insulted her.

“what is it?” she asked, quiet, careful. “you were just excited.”

lara didn’t answer.

y/n sighed and stepped closer, wiping her hands on a towel, voice softer now. “come on. it’s me.”

lara’s shoulders shifted, the faintest sign of tension.

“daniela avanzini,” she muttered, eyes still fixed on the screen. “first round.”

y/n’s brow furrowed. “so?”

lara let out a dry breath. “she won this whole thing last year. hasn’t lost a single match since. i wasn’t even sure i’d get in—and now i have to open against her?“

y/n watched her, then leaned against the edge of the table. “you’ve played tougher.”

lara huffed a humorless laugh. “not with one and a half knees, i haven’t.”

there was no teasing in her voice now. just exhaustion. and the creeping shadow of self-doubt y/n remembered all too well.

“you’ll be fine,” y/n said, steady. certain. “you don’t back down. not from girls like her.”

lara looked at her then, eyes searching, like she wasn’t used to hearing that anymore.

and for a second, y/n didn’t care about the past. or the tension. or the red streak still fading on lara’s thigh.

because whatever they were now, she could still read lara like a book. and right now, she needed someone to believe in her.

“you’ve got this,” y/n said. simple. firm. true.

lara’s shoulders dropped, just slightly. she nodded, slow.

“yeah,” she said. “yeah. okay.”

y/n turned away and started packing up the ice packs like it was urgent. like the act of organizing something—anything—might keep her from unraveling. emotionally speaking, it kind of had to.

behind her, lara placed the tablet down and moved to stand. whatever flicker of doubt had cracked through a minute ago was gone from her face now, wiped clean and replaced with that effortless cool she always wore like armor. but y/n saw right through it. the wince as lara shifted her weight. the tightness around her mouth. the sheen of nerves still clinging to her eyes.

“so,” lara said, too breezy, like nothing at all had happened, “same time tomorrow?”

y/n didn’t answer right away. she glanced at her, the way you look at something you used to call home. lara had always been like this—sharp, stubborn, all-in. tennis was everything. it had been the start and the end of them.

still, y/n didn’t poke at it. didn’t offer comfort or push too hard. she just looked back down at her clipboard and scribbled something illegible, feigning disinterest like it was a sport.

“unfortunately,” she said.

lara bit her lip. not flirtatious this time, but soft. familiar. a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, quiet and a little worn around the edges. maybe even fond.

“can’t wait.”

perhaps y/n should’ve trusted her instincts that something wasn’t quite right in the mind of her ex girlfriend.

the pop of the tennis ball echoed across the near-empty court, sharp and rhythmic. it was hot—too hot to be out here, especially with a healing knee—but lara’s body craved the repetition. the sweat, the sting of sun in her eyes, the dry rasp of her breath. it all felt like control. like something she could grip tight before it slipped away again. it'd been five days since her therapy sessions kicked into swing, and little by little, she was going crazy. she hated stagnancy. sitting and waiting around doing nothing when the court was right there. the late afternoon heat pressed down like a weighted blanket, thick and unmoving. golden light pooled along the edges of the tennis court, casting long shadows over the clay. cicadas droned somewhere in the trees beyond the fence. it was the kind of california heat that made the ground shimmer, the kind that stole breath from lungs. but lara was still out there, hitting ball after ball like it owed her something.

her tank top was damp, clinging to her skin, dark with sweat along her back. strands of her inky black hair stuck to her neck, and the angles of her face were set tight with determination. her movements were clean, trained. forceful even/ but there was a hitch in her stride. her knee. every pivot came with a flicker of pain she refused to acknowledge. she wasn’t cleared to be playing. she knew it. megan knew it. but knowing didn’t stop her.

on the other side of the net, megan twirled her racket lazily, her white tank cropped just enough to flash the silver hoops of her belt every time she moved. where lara was coiled tension, megan was loose limbs and sleepy eyes.

“i’m starting to think you like punishing yourself,” she called out, visor askew like a lopsided crown. she stuck her tongue out in mock concentration. “either that or you just love making me run.”

lara didn’t answer. she returned the shot with a sharp forehand, sweat flying from her elbow. her chest burned. her leg throbbed. she didn’t care.

“don’t get me wrong,” megan said, jogging to catch the ball. “i’m flattered. i mean, i’ve got a nice ass and all, but if this is your way of flirting—”

lara hit the next shot harder. it cracked like a gun going off.

megan whistled. “okay, simmer down, federer. jesus.”

lara didn’t smile. didn’t even flinch. her eyes stayed locked on the ball, lashes clumped with sweat, jaw clenched tight enough to ache. her breath came shallow and fast. she could feel the tremble in her knee starting to spread, small at first, but gaining ground. still, she kept going. she had to. she wasn’t thinking about her knee. not really. she was thinking about daniela. daniela with the perfect serve, the iron discipline, the smile that never reached her eyes. the girl who might be better. faster. cleaner.

lara couldn’t afford to lose. not again.

“if you die out here,” megan called after a moment through her heavy breathing, slicing the ball with a lazy flick, “can i have your sneakers?”

lara lunged to return it. “you wouldn’t fit them.”

“rude and ableist. i’m a growing girl.”

they kept the rally going. backhand, forehand, slice, lob. lara’s form was cleaner than it should be for someone not cleared to train. but there was a stiffness in her leg, a hesitance in her recovery steps. megan noticed. megan always noticed.

“you’re thinking about daniela again,” megan sing-songed.

lara grunted as she pivoted. “no, i’m not.”

“yes, you are. it’s written all over your moody little murder face.”

lara hit the ball harder than she needed to. “i’m fine.”

“no, you’re tense. like emotionally and also physically. i’m your friend-slash-secret therapist-slash-occasional doubles partner, and i can feel it in my soul.”

lara didn’t answer. they both knew megan was right. lara just couldn’t help but dread her upcoming match with the latina. couldn’t shake the memory of her devastating efficiency, the knowledge that she was fresh. rested. uninjured. probably sleeping eight hours a night in a cryogenic pod while lara spent hers trying not to scream into a pillow every time her knee ached.

she hated that she wasn’t sure if she could beat her anymore.

“you know it’s okay, right?” megan said, softer now, tapping the ball across gently. “to be scared. or whatever.”

lara caught it on the bounce and shot it back harder than necessary. “i’m not scared.”

“okay. cool. you’re just out here in a heatwave playing on a busted leg because… you love pain?”

lara gave her a look. “yes. it’s called character building.”

“uh-huh.” megan grinned. “okay, new theory. you’re not scared of daniela. you’re just distracted. and i think i know by who.”

lara sighed. “don’t.”

“y/n,” megan declared, grinning wider. “hot physio. broody aura. what did you do, hit her with your car?”

lara’s next shot clipped the net.

“she’s—” lara started, then stopped.

“what?” megan twirled her racket. “gonna say she’s just your physio? because i’m pretty sure i saw you make eye contact with her once and your soul tried to leave your body.”

lara rolled her eyes. “megan.”

“what? i’m allowed to look. she’s hot. if you’re not gonna go for it, i’ll take a shot.”

lara’s grip on her racket tightened. “no, you won’t.”

megan blinked. “whoa. calm down, stabby.”

“i’m not stabby.”

“you sound a little stabby.”

lara hit the ball hard. too hard. the pressure jolted up her leg like lightning. the second her foot came down, she knew. the angle was wrong. her knee buckled, and pain shot through her like a scream.

she collapsed with a sharp gasp, racket skidding across the clay.

“shit—lara!” megan rushed over, dropping to her knees beside her. “hey, hey, don’t move—”

lara clenched her jaw. “i’m—fine—”

but the pain said otherwise. it pulsed hot and urgent, and her breath was already going shallow. panic started to press in around the edges. from the corner of her eye she noticed a familiar figure darting over.

“what the hell is going on?” y/n’s voice rang out, fierce and familiar.

lara looked up just in time to see her pushing through the gate, eyes wide, clipboard forgotten somewhere behind her.

“she fell,” megan said quickly. “knee again. i think—she’s in real pain.”

y/n knelt beside her without hesitation. “lara. talk to me.”

lara’s throat felt tight. “it—it twisted.”

y/n’s hands were already assessing the joint, fast but precise. “can you put weight on it?”

“not right now.”

megan stood back. “i’ll get ice.”

y/n nodded without looking up. “bench. come on.”

between the two of them, they got lara onto the bench. y/n’s arm around her waist was steady, grounding. her touch wasn’t gentle, but something about it made lara’s chest ache.

megan returned with an ice pack, handing it off with a sheepish wince. “i’m gonna give you guys a minute.”

lara didn’t say anything. didn’t meet y/n’s eyes. she ignored megan when she gave her a brief apologetic shoulder pat before sauntering away, disappearing behind the large fence.

the silence left behind was heavier than it should’ve been.

“you shouldn’t be out here,” y/n said finally. not angry. just tired. scared in her own way.

lara closed her eyes. “i know.”

“so why are you?”

lara opened her mouth, then closed it again. the truth tasted bitter, like something she didn’t want to admit.

“because i’m not ready to lose,” she said, voice low. “not again. not this. it’s all i have left.”

y/n was quiet for a long moment.

“you have more than this game,” y/n said softly, kneeling in front of her. the ice pack in her hand melted slowly, droplets slipping over her fingers as she pressed it gently to lara’s knee. “more than this court.”

lara exhaled through her nose, sharp and shaky. “you don’t get it,” she murmured. “tennis is all i’ve ever been good at. it’s the only place that made sense when everything else didn’t.”

y/n stayed quiet for a beat, watching her. the pain on lara’s face wasn’t just from the fall. it was the kind that had been building for years. “it doesn’t have to be,” she said. “you’re more than your ranking. your record. your injury. you’re… you’re smart. stubborn. annoying.”

lara huffed a breath, something almost like a laugh.

“and you’ve got people,” y/n added. “people who want you to be okay. not just back on the court. actually okay.”

lara’s eyes met hers then, dark, tired, and a little wide. like something in her had cracked without warning. “even you?”

y/n didn’t flinch. “especially me.”

the silence that followed was thick. a cicada buzzed somewhere just past the fence. a breeze picked up, lazy and warm. neither of them moved.

“have you…” lara started, then trailed off, eyes flicking away.

y/n tilted her head. “what?”

lara’s voice came quieter this time. “have you been with anyone since me?”

y/n blinked. “why?”

lara shrugged, but it was brittle, all edge. “just wondering.”

y/n watched her for a second. “no.”

lara’s gaze shot back to hers. “really?”

“yeah. really.”

lara nodded slowly, jaw tight. she looked away again, toward the net where the ball still rested like a forgotten thought. “i haven’t either.”

y/n didn’t say anything.

lara’s voice dropped even lower. “because no one was you.”

the air caught in y/n’s throat.

lara didn’t smile. didn’t flirt. didn’t try to hide behind the usual smirk or offhand comment. she just sat there, sweaty and bruised, a little broken and not bothering to pretend otherwise.

“i didn’t know how to move on,” she added, almost to herself. “still don’t.”

y/n reached for her hand without thinking. their fingers brushed, hesitant at first. then stayed.

they didn’t say anything else after that.

the planned ten days were over within a blink. neither of them mentioned the words lara uttered that day. the remaining days they had were spent in full recovery, much to the desi girls' chagrin. she was back to her usual coy smiles and flirty compliments, but y/n could’ve sworn there was something deeper hiding beneath the surface. a warmth she hadn’t seen since they dated, a warmth she often stayed up late at night thinking of. a warmth she craved for so long, and perhaps, one she never got over. spending time with lara had her heart soothing over, mending slowly without even realizing it. she missed her. and of course, sophia was right.

y/n was still deeply, madly in love with lara raj.

y/n was torn from her thoughts when a loud jeer sounded through the staff room. the room was cramped, humid, and vaguely haunted by the smell of instant coffee and sports tape. above the lockers, a slightly tilted flat-screen tv streamed the tournament feed in all its 720p glory. y/n sat cross-legged on a bench beside sophia and manon, the two girls having grown quite fond of each other over the past ten days they’d spent in the same social orbits. y/n kept her arms folded, her expression tight: trying to look calm and collected and pulling off exactly neither.

soobin’s match had just wrapped. he’d played clean and sharp, held his own against a higher seed, made it all the way to the semis—but came up short in the last set. the staff room let out a collective, sympathetic groan as the final point landed.

“still proud of him,” sophia said, chewing a protein bar aggressively. “personally, i think i would’ve done better. maybe that’s just the competitor in me. bad bitches always come out on top.”

manon blinked. “you cried when i beat your ass at mario kart two days ago.”

sophia narrowed her eyes. “shut your mouth.”

y/n wasn’t listening. her gaze was fixed on the screen as the bracket updated. next match: lara raj vs. daniela avanzini. center court. her stomach tightened.

manon noticed the way y/n’s face twisted. turning away from the filippina, she lowered her voice in clear concern. “you good?”

“peachy,” y/n said flatly. “just watching my ex-girlfriend walk into battle against the most terrifying forehand in women’s tennis. no big deal.”

manon blinked. turned. “wait, what?”

y/n didn’t flinch. “we dated.”

“what?!”

sophia rolled her eyes and offered manon the rest of her protein bar. “catch up, girl.”

manon’s face was somewhere between scandalized and impressed. “why did no one tell me?!”

“we figured the dramatic mid-tournament reveal would be more cinematic,” y/n said dryly.

manon threw her hands up. “i’ve been in the dark for ten days!”

y/n stood before the banter could pull her under. she smoothed her staff polo, then immediately regretted it. it didn’t help anything.

“i’m gonna go check on her,” she mumbled.

sophia gave a thumbs up. manon looked like she had several follow-up questions but wisely zipped it.

the hallway was unusually quiet—like even the building itself had gone still, holding its breath for what came next. y/n slipped through the back corridors with practiced ease, dodging staff carts and volunteers with clipboards, letting instinct guide her more than memory. she didn’t have to think about where lara would be. she just knew. past the physio bay, past the equipment closets and storage crates of unopened gatorade. just before the tunnel to center court—there.

lara stood exactly where y/n expected: framed in the stark fluorescent light spilling from overhead, tucked just out of sight from the cameras and chaos waiting at the other end. she was alone, headphones hanging loose around her neck, not playing anything anymore. her racquet leaned gently against the wall beside her. her knee, freshly wrapped in compression tape so smooth it looked like glass, bent and straightened in a slow, careful rhythm, like she was testing its limits without daring to push too far.

she looked good. better, even. lighter on her feet, her posture more relaxed than it had been a week ago. physically, at least, she was ready.

but her hands were fidgeting. her shoulders tight with tension. her brow furrowed in that way that always came when she was thinking too much, feeling too much. y/n stopped just before she reached her. didn’t say anything at first.

lara noticed her anyway.

she looked up, and for a moment, all the nerves on her face paused. like the sight of y/n alone was enough to break the spiral.

“hey,” lara said, voice low and rough around the edges.

“hey,” y/n echoed, softer. she let herself linger on the sight of her, how strong she looked, how scared she clearly still was underneath it all. “figured i’d find you here.”

lara gave a weak smile. “it’s almost time.”

y/n stepped closer, careful not to intrude too quickly. “how’re you feeling?”

lara nodded, too fast. “i’m good.”

y/n arched a brow. “you’re literally vibrating.”

lara’s jaw worked, like she wanted to argue and didn’t have the energy.

“i keep thinking,” she said, gaze fixed past the tunnel, “about everything that can go wrong. like—what if i slip again? what if it gives out? what if i choke in front of all those people?”

her voice was too steady for how fast she was blinking. y/n took another step forward, now close enough to touch her, but didn’t. not yet.

“you’ve already done the hardest part,” she said gently. “you got back up. the rest is just tennis.”

lara gave a short, quiet laugh—dry and almost bitter. “just tennis.”

“you know what i mean.”

lara looked down at her hands, flexed them once, then let them fall.

“sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough,” she said. “i’m not enough.”

y/n’s throat tightened. she reached out, slow, and brushed her fingers against the hem of lara’s sleeve, straightening it with care that didn’t need words.

“you are,” she said. “you always have been.”

lara finally looked at her. eyes shining, jaw tight.

y/n held her gaze. “and if you forget that out there, just look for me.”

a long beat. the kind that said everything too big to speak aloud. then the announcer’s voice boomed from the court, muffled but unmistakable.

lara flinched like it physically tugged her. her name echoed into the tunnel, followed by a swell of crowd noise.

she exhaled shakily.

“time to go,” she said.

y/n nodded.

lara hesitated—just for a second—then took a step forward and rested her forehead briefly against y/n’s, barely touching.

“thank you,” she whispered.

and then she was gone.

the match was chaos. not the kind that spiraled out of control, but the kind that demanded everything. every nerve, every drop of focus, every breath held and released in rhythm with the ball.

y/n didn’t take a seat.

she stood in the tunnel, half-hidden in shadow, just past where the athletes emerged. not quite on court, not quite behind it. close enough to hear every thwack of the racquet, every screech of shoes on the baseline, every collective inhale from the crowd.

lara started strong. sharper than she had in weeks. her footwork was tight, her backhand crisp, her serve landing just where it needed to. she was reading daniela well. all of the angles, predicting the pace. but then came the second set.

one bad step on a wide return sent her skidding, her sneakers dragging across clay. she didn’t fall hard, but y/n’s heart still jolted into her throat. she gripped the wall instinctively, knuckles white, watching lara freeze for a half-second before she pulled herself up like it hadn’t happened.

that was the turning point.

lara adjusted. gritted her teeth. she stopped trying to out-power daniela and started out-thinking her instead—mixing in drop shots, surprising her with deep lobs, keeping her off rhythm. tie breaks. long deuces. brutal rallies that felt like little wars.

y/n stood still through it all, not blinking, not breathing.

lara looked exhausted. flushed and damp, her wrap peeking through the edge of her skirt, her swing a little slower with each game, but she never backed off. never once glanced toward the tunnel.

not until championship point.

y/n knew the pattern by now. she could see it coming in lara’s posture, the way she bounced on her toes one last time before the serve. the way daniela’s return came just a fraction too high.

lara pounced. a forehand down the line. fast. unforgiving. it clipped the baseline and vanished past the reach of her opponent.

silence. then the crowd roared. the stadium exploded, cheering, whistling, thunderous applause like a wave crashing over the court. confetti started falling from somewhere. a reporter yelled her name. cameras swung wildly to catch her face.

lara had won. she’d done it. on court, lara stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide like she didn’t fully believe it either. a tournament official jogged over and placed the trophy into her hands. silver and shining and somehow too small for what it meant. it was only the first round, yes, but she knocked out the toughest opponent she’d have to face for the rest of the tourney.

lara barely looked at the small trophy before she turned. and for the first time in the whole match—hell, maybe the whole year—she wasn’t searching for the ball, or the next point, or the fear of what might break again. she was looking for her.

before y/n could even react, lara was already moving. she slipped past the officials with barely a glance, dodged a reporter, ducked under the boom of a camera that tried to follow. someone caught her by the arm, and she shook them off without a word. then she was there. standing in front of y/n in the tunnel. flushed from the match, eyes glassy with disbelief and adrenaline. breath caught halfway in her throat. for a moment, she didn’t say anything. just looked at her—really looked. like y/n was the only thing anchoring her to the ground. then, with a trembling breath, she reached out.

her hands found y/n’s face gently, like she was afraid she might shatter if she moved too fast. her thumbs brushed over her cheeks, soft as breath, and then she kissed her. slow. tender. nothing rushed or showy, no crashing hunger. just this quiet, aching certainty that said i missed you. i see you. it’s always been you.

y/n didn’t move right away.

not because she didn’t want to, but because the softness of it, the sincerity of it, cut straight through her. lara raj—newly crowned champion dethroner, one step closer to taking it all, headline material, national broadcast darling—was kissing her like none of that mattered. like she’d won the biggest trophy of her life and still turned around to find the one thing that made it real.

when they finally broke apart, their foreheads pressed together, noses brushing. lara was still catching her breath.

y/n blinked, dazed. “what the hell was that?”

lara’s laugh was quiet, shaky. “closure. maybe.”

y/n raised a brow. “that felt suspiciously like the opposite of closure.”

lara smiled again—crooked and small and impossibly full of love. she didn’t pull back.

“i used to think the game was everything,” she whispered. “that if i won enough, if i kept proving myself, maybe one day i’d feel… whole.”

y/n said nothing. her heart was too loud in her ears. lara’s thumb traced the line of her jaw.

“but you—” she swallowed. “being with you made me feel like i already was. i didn’t need to chase anything. i’m so sorry i walked away. i thought i had to choose. but there’s nothing—nothing—in this world i want more than you.”

y/n’s eyes burned. she didn’t say anything. just wrapped her arms around lara’s waist, pulled her in close, and kissed her again—deeper this time, but still just as sure.

lara didn’t care a single shred about the outcome of her match, she realized. standing with y/n in that moment made all the sense in the world.

it felt like coming home.

198 notes · View notes

celestie0 · 1 year ago

Text

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch. 3 returning the favor

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 3/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 4.5k

a/n. hope you enjoy! i really had fun incorporating a lot of the other characters in this one.

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

|| 9:21AM Gojo Satoru sent you a photo

|| 9:22AM Gojo Satoru: Here’s our practice schedule for the week. Honestly, it’s better if you come when we do practice games or something, since on other days we just do drills or strength training, but coach doesn’t really tell us what we’re doing beforehand so would probs have to play it by ear

|| 9:27AM Gojo Satoru: Oh yeah, we’ve got a big game in three weeks on the 28th. It’ll decide if we’re automatically seeded into the top 16 teams bracket, which is really crucial if we want to eventually bring home the championship. Not sure when your assignment is due, but that would be a good official game to come to

|| 9:28AM Gojo Satoru: Let me know as soon as you can if you want to make that game. I’ll have to ask coach to get the referee sign-off for you to be on-field during play at least a week before

You look down at all the messages he was sending you during class on a Monday morning. After he sent you that house party details post from his fraternity’s Instagram page last week, their posts kept popping up in your feed and you saw one this morning with a bunch of the guys in the frat, Gojo included, shotgunning beers until 3AM last night. You marvel at how he’s somehow not hungover beyond repair and is texting you before noon.

Pressing and holding on to his messages, you give him little thumbs up reactions and you decide on a heart reaction for the picture he sent you of the practice schedule. Then, you set your phone down and look at the video of the men’s soccer team highlights your professor was playing from the game a week and a half ago.

“Here, here, this right here. Midfielder #24 surveyed the field, spotting #13 making a run for it down the flank. Pinpoint pass to left winger, who starts steering through defenders, but loses the ball. Then, center forward #10 steals the ball back! He steals the ball, he fucking steals the fucking ball back!” Your professor was running back and forth in front of the projector screen, his finger following the movement of the soccer ball in the video. Your heart jumps a beat when Gojo shows up on screen, with his signature #10 jersey, and some people in the lecture hall stand up in excitement with the professor. “Beelines towards the goal, and BAM! Goalie stood no fucking chance, ball sent immaculately into the back of the net. Victory for UTokyo, 2-1, in the last seconds of the game!" Your professor cheers and jumps up and down. Some people cheer with him, others sigh, others are in awe, and some simply clap.

Another entire lecture goes by where the professor spends absolutely no time going over film photography theory and instead just talks about how soccer used to be back in his day. You approach him after class, clutching your laptop case to your chest, and it’s only when you clear your throat in front of him that he finally looks up at you from the podium.

“Oh, y/n, how can I help you?” He asks as he shoves his phone back in his pocket.

“Hey, professor. Bit of a request, could I have like two extra days for my assignment? There’s this event that I really want to use for the subject matter but it’s the day before the deadline, and I would need some time to develop my photos,” you say in the politest tone you can muster up.

“Yeah, sure. Just get it in before the end of the deadline week,” he says nonchalantly. “Looking forward to seeing it. Good work on the last one, by the way.”

You give him a smile and a word of appreciation before turning on your heel and making it up the stairs to exit the lecture hall, pulling your phone out of your tote bag.

|| 9:53AM You: i can make it on the 28th. please get that referee permission for me

You press your lips together as you press send, and then type a bit more.

|| 9:54AM You: and thanks a lot

Your stomach is suddenly growling and you’re about to head over to the student hub when your phone starts ringing. You look down at the contact name that says Nobara and pick up.

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up,” you say as you make your way towards the heart of campus, enjoying the light breeze as the sun peeked through the clouds.

“Where are you? Didn’t we have a Film Club meeting today?” She asks you, her tone a bit impatient. “We were supposed to discuss that collaboration with the school newsletter.”

Shoot. You forgot. These days, you were a bit too distracted by recent happenings, like Mina practically falling head-over-heels for a guy that was quite possibly the opposite of her type, the towering amount of class assignments that never seemed to end, and this whole arrangement you were trying to coordinate with Gojo Satoru. The Film Club meeting totally slipped your mind. You were supposed to head out of class a bit early to make it on time. “I’m so sorry, Nobara. I totally forgot about it. I’m unfortunately all the way on the other end of campus right now. I typed up some notes in the document, can you just run those by them? If we need anything else, I’ll reach out to them by email.”

She sighs on the other end of the line. “Yeah. I’m not good at these conversations, but I guess as President I should be better at them anyways. I’ll let you know how it goes.” And then she hangs up.

Mentally happy that you were at least free of one other obligation today, you prepare to make your way to the dining hall when your phone vibrates again.

|| 10:01AM Gojo Satoru: Will do, and sure thing. By the way, you free right now? Coach is having us do a practice game, probably for around 2 hours

You squint your eyes at his message, considering the opportunity. You didn’t have any other classes left for the day and were just going to grab something to eat before heading home, but now you wonder if you should make it to this practice session. He did say that you have to be flexible since he doesn’t even know exactly what they’ll end up doing before practice, so you figured this might be your only chance this week to practice capturing shots of them as they play, since it seemed like they had Tuesday & Friday off based on Gojo’s schedule picture. Unfortunately, you only brought your digital camera with you today since your film camera was too heavy to carry around unless you knew you needed it, but you can still do a lot with digital that would help for the film camera shoot. You could make it work.

|| 10:05AM You: yeah, i’m free. i was just gonna grab something to eat first, and then i’ll head over to the field in maybe 15 min. but i’m not exactly sure how to get onto the field, or where the entrance is…

He adds a heart reaction to your message which startles you a little bit. An accident, maybe?

|| 10:06AM Gojo Satoru: Lol, just meet me at that weird art sculpture they put up last semester. The one that cost like all of our tuition money. I’ll walk you to the field

You let out a sigh, somewhat nervous that you'll be seeing him again soon. The last time you saw Gojo was when you left him standing unceremoniously at the kitchen island with a somewhat offending comment. Nonetheless, he didn’t necessarily seem angry at you. Quite the opposite, actually. He’s been way more helpful than you had ever anticipated. You started to feel like the effort you put into getting Mina to go to that house party was nothing compared to the effort he was putting in for you to ace this assignment.

Stopping by your school’s mini grocery store, you pick up a sandwich plus some strawberry vanilla soda, and take some bites as well as some sips as you leisurely make your way to the expensive art sculpture near the sports fields. As you get closer to it, you see Gojo from a distance talking to some people. A few of them were guys, a few of them girls, and he was laughing out loud at something one of the girls said. A part of you wonders what it’s like to be adored by so many people.

When he spots you at the other side of the cross walk, he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he’s hurriedly saying goodbye to the group in front of him. Their heads turn to each other in confusion before turning their attention in your direction as he makes his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says as he lightly jogs up to the sidewalk you were standing on. You notice he’s wearing a black long sleeve undershirt with a short-sleeved blue one on top, along with some athletic black shorts and running shoes. When he brushes some of his hair away from where it had fallen near his eyes, your heart skips a beat at his handsome expression. A smile graces his face. “You ready?”

You nod, swallowing the mouthful of sandwich you didn’t realize you had stopped chewing, and follow his lead as the two of you cut across behind the batting cages of the school’s softball training area. Your eyes fell to Gojo’s back as he walked on the pavement. His shoulders were broad, shoulder blades pulling the upper half of the fabric of his clothing somewhat taut across as the rest of it freely flowed down to his lean lower back. The long sleeved shirt he wore underneath was pretty loose-fitting, but you could still see the thickness of his muscles. With every step that he took, his calves flexed in a way that made you realize he must really work out.

“What are you eating?” He says as he turns around to face you, walking backwards for a few paces as he looks at your hands.

“Oh, just a veggie sandwich,” you answer as you hold it up next to your face. “Campus delicacy.”

His smile widens. “And what are you drinking?” This time he asks with a bit more curiosity.

“It's strawberry vanilla soda,” you say as you juggle all of the things you were holding in your arms.

“Can I have some?” He asks with a somewhat innocent tone. “The soda, I mean. I’ve never had that flavor.”

You hesitate, but alas you were a people-pleaser. “Sure.”

He halts his movements and so you do too, and he closes the gap between you two in one exaggerated stride. His hand gently pulls the soda bottle out from where it was tucked into your elbow to keep it from falling. You notice the veins on his hand get more defined as he squeezes & twists to release the cap and it sends something akin to a wave of arousal through your body, entirely startling you. But when he brings the bottle up to his lips with his head tipping backwards, drinking directly from it, neck bobbing as he swallows and a single drop trickles down the expanse of his jawline, the arousal directly hits you at your core.

“Hm,” he licks his lips. “That’s pretty good.”

You’re standing there in shock, your grip on your sandwich causing dents in the bread. He dabs the stray droplet of liquid at his chin with the back of his hand and turns around to keep walking ahead, making his way up the stairs onto what looks like a grassy field. It takes you a second to start moving too, and by then you need to do a light jog just to catch up to him.

There’s a comfortable silence that develops between the two of you and when you glance at Gojo, you notice his eyes are closed and there’s a serene smile on his face, a gust of wind pushing the hair up out of his forehead and sending the blades of grass dancing across the hilly field. You smile too at the sensation of cool wind on your skin. It was a beautiful day outside with sparkling sunshine and quiet whistling wind.

“Can I ask you something?” You say after contemplating if you should interrupt his somewhat meditative state.

“You can ask me anything,” he easily replies.

“Why are you so willing to help me out with my assignment?”

He turns his head to look at you with a neutral expression. “Because you did me a favor.”

You sigh. “I know…but it really wasn’t that hard to convince Mina to go to that party. I feel like you’re helping me out way more than I helped you out.” A small ladybug lands on the fabric of your jeans and you marvel at it before it flutters its wings and flies away.

He’s silent for a second. “Honestly, when you agreed to help me out with Todo’s little crush, which by the way I had to do because I lost a bet, and you mentioned something about terms and conditions in your message,” he starts to say, a brief pause making its way between the sentence as if he was actively trying to relive that first night he was texting you, “I thought you were going to ask for something sexual in return.”

Your mouth drops at his line of thinking, suddenly mortified. That’s how your message came across to him? Oh my God, you had to rethink how you texted everyone in your life from now on.

“I mean, weren’t you being a little flirty? ‘My terms and conditions will come later’. Or do I just have some weird sexual brain rot?” His eyes are still on you, his tone way too casual in your opinion for this sudden topic of conversation. You also realize that he thinks having sex with him would be returning you the favor. And then you try not to think about how good he probably is in bed.

When you can’t think of what to say and just stare at him with wide eyes, he smiles and stretches his arms out in front of him as another gust of wind passes by. “Well, anyways, when you shared what you actually wanted from me and it ended up being a pretty earnest request…let’s just say I was emotionally moved by your dreams and aspirations.” He says that last part somewhat dramatically and you roll your eyes, sending him an annoyed look. “A little disappointed, but nonetheless moved.”

“Wow, you’re the type of person that would trade favors for sex?” you ask him with a sneer to your tone.

He sends a lazy smirk to you over his shoulder to where you’re trailing behind him now. “Not really, no, can’t say I’ve ever done it before,” he says slyly, “probably would’ve made an exception for you, though.” And then he’s giving you a wink.

You can’t help but blush a little. He was definitely just teasing you, some hobby of his that he does just to constantly get a kick out of the people around him since he knows he just has that much of an effect on them, so you try not to let his words get past your skin to the more vulnerable parts of you. He’s reading your expression before he speaks up again.

“We’ve already started this little return favor of yours, so no take-backs. It’s an eye for an eye. Not an eye for an eye and throw some casual sex in there, too.” He makes his way up what seems to be the largest hill across the field and he stops at the top, peering out at whatever was across from it. When you made your way to the top too, your eyes widened as you saw an expanse of flat grassiness covered in orange cones, green land markers, white chalk outlines, and netted goals. Oh, and a lot of men. “Alright, you freaky little photographer. Here are your muses.”

You let out the breath you were holding in and smiled, hands immediately reaching for your digital camera case within your tote bag. A wave of creativity and inspiration hit you as you were finally able to lay your eyes on your subject matter and setting, and you couldn’t wait to get started.

Gojo makes his way down the hill and you stumble after him. He high-fives a couple of his teammates that were leaving the first wave of practice and makes his way over where the second-wave practice players were stretching on the field and running laps.

“C’mon, Itadori, I’ve seen snails with a more urgent sense of direction than you! Pick up those goddamn knees!” You hear a loud voice from a few feet away from you and flinch, eyeing the scary looking man that had a…Pomeranian dog in his arms? He was wearing a black athletic jumpsuit and had extremely tinted, thick sunglasses on. His facial hair was a bit jarring and you immediately decided you were scared of him, despite how gently he was petting the little dog cradled in his arms.

“That’s coach Yaga,” Gojo says beside you with a smile on his face and his hands on his hips. “Real nice guy.”

You turn to give him a suspicious look and he just returns it with a wider smile.

“Hey! It’s y/n,” you hear a somewhat familiar voice call out and you glance at the direction it came from. You see Geto standing next to Nanami and he whacks his hand against the blonde's chest to get his attention when he makes eye contact with you before jogging over. You see Gojo put his hands in his shorts pockets in your periphery. “What are you doing here?”

You give him a shy smile, suddenly embarrassed by the attention. “Here to take some photos.”

“Are you with the school newsletter?” Nanami’s smooth voice says as he approaches Geto, standing next to him. They both were wearing matching blue tracksuits.

“No, I’m not. Just here to…take some photos for one of my classes. It’s for a film photography assignment.” You suddenly wished you were part of the school newsletter committee, so that you could at least provide them with some positive publicity with your photos. You wondered if they would think you’re just using them. As if Gojo could read your mind, he patted Geto harshly on the back and let out a loud, obnoxious laugh.

“Hear that, punks? She wants to try and take some nice photos of you lot. Be grateful! Of course, your grotesque appearances cannot simply be fixed by any technology yet known to man,” Gojo says rather loudly, continuing to smack Geto on the back. Geto has a small pitiful smile on his face and Nanami just looks annoyed. You feel lighter somehow, less tense.

“Okay, cool, let us know if we can help in any way,” Geto says kindly as he sits down on the grass to continue stretching out his legs. “Oh by the way, Satoru, Chosou’s out sick today so you might need to cover for goalie.”

“What? Why’s that fucker always getting sick?” Gojo says as he walks towards one of the duffle bags on the bench, and you assume it’s his. He pulls out a water bottle. “He needs to stop eating that goddamn grocery store sushi.”

“Oh! Oh! It’s you,” another somewhat familiar voice calls out from ahead. You see a guy wearing a dark blue jacket that had a red hood approaching you from the inner field. Then you recognize he was that guy at the entrance of the house party that called you a- “It’s casual tomboy!”

Your eye twitches slightly as you take in your appearance. Sure, you were wearing jeans again, but your top was somewhat stylish and feminine. He arrives in front of you and notices the digital camera hung at your neck. “Hey, what’s that?” He points directly at your midriff where the camera sat. He almost pokes his finger right through the delicate attachable lens that cost you nearly two months of rent.

“A little rude, Yuuji,” Geto says, grunting as he switches from one stretch to the other.

Yuuji gets closer to you to study the camera and you instinctively lean away from him before Gojo is grabbing him by the hood of his jacket and yanking him away from you, Yuuji’s arms flailing out in front of himself in a struggle. “Hey, get back to practice. You’re not allowed to talk to pretty seniors.”

Coach Yaga grunts and crosses his arms from where he stood a few feet away, the tiny pomeranian now barking at his feet. “I never said you could stop running laps, Itadori! Get your ass back out there! I’ll be sending you to recreational soccer for the rest of your freshman year if you don’t get your damn head straight!” Gojo lets go of Itadori’s hood and the poor boy is scrambling across the field to join what seems like the other first-years for their warm-up laps. Coach Yaga turns to you and gives a hmph before vaguely gesturing to you. “May I know what you’re doing out on my field?”

“Coach!” Gojo says, making his way over to the scary man. He slings his arm around his neck and the man just continues to glare at him through his sunglasses. “She’s with me today. Photographer y/n will be taking some handsome photographs of you that you can send to your wife, and then maybe your wife will actually want to-”

Coach Yaga puts Gojo in a headlock and Gojo’s instantly tapping on his back to get him to ease up. “I dare you to finish that sentence, boy.”

You let out a small laugh. This was certainly a lively bunch. Nanami approaches you and expresses interest in your camera. You lift it up for him to take a closer look. He pinches his chin between his bent index finger and thumb, as if he was a detective analyzing a crime scene. “I see…so this is a film camera.”

“Ah…” you laugh awkwardly. “No, this is just a digital camera.”

“I see…so this is a digital camera,” he repeats, equally as intrigued.

The time eventually comes along where all the players start the practice match. There’s obviously not enough players out on the field for full teams on each side, but they’re split into 1st & 4th years vs. 2nd & 3rd years. You learn that the second wave practice group has the talented players at the top of each of their year groups. Gojo doesn’t seem to participate in the practice match despite one team having to omit having a goalie since the coach requested he sit out to watch the plays and make suggestions. You’re a bit sad you don’t get to see him play, but figured you’ll have a chance in the future. You take a few snapshots as one of the other first-years, a quiet boy named Megumi, kicks the ball towards the goal that ends up bouncing off the goal frame. You spend some time tweaking the exposure, zoom, and focus until you feel like you have a pretty good idea of the settings you’ll need to get some fluid shots.

When you look up over the field again, raising your digital camera to your face, you notice Gojo looking at you from across the field where he stood at the sidelines. You both keep your gaze on one another for a couple of seconds, and you boldly lift the camera up to your eye, taking a few snapshots of him. When you pull it away, look down at the results on the small screen, and then glance back up at him, his eyes are slightly wide. Something stirs within you when you remember his words from earlier: I thought you were going to ask for something sexual.

Your mind wanders back to the party from last weekend, and the feeling of him leaning down next to your ear in the kitchen as he said “Thanks, I owe you one. Find me later, ‘kay?” The memory itself made your cheeks feel warm. Did he…think that something was going to happen that night at the party? Probably would’ve made an exception for you…Disappointed, but nonetheless moved. Somewhere in the haziness of your thoughts, you realize that meant that Gojo would’ve wanted to sleep with you if that was indeed your condition.

When you look to the other side of the field again, Gojo’s eyes are still on you but his handsome face looks a bit troubled, eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly pursed. You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking, but for some reason you felt like he could tell what you were. When you raised an eyebrow at him, his face relaxed and he slowly shook his head as if to say it's nothing.

Coach Yaga’s sharp whistle cuts through the silent conversation you two were having as he yells, “alright, boys. Practice over! Go stretch yourselves out.”

You quickly stuff your digital camera back into its case and collect your things into your tote bag. In your peripheral vision, Gojo’s making his way over to you and when he’s right next to you, you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“How’d it go? Get some good shots?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested.

“Um, yeah, I think so.” You’re still not looking at him, pretending to fiddle with something in your tote bag. He leans down a bit to look at your face more clearly when he notices you’re not meeting his gaze, but you still struggle to make eye contact with him. “I’ve gotta go, can you tell the guys I said bye?” And then you’re making your way up the hill.

There’s a beat of silence as confusion washes over him from your behavior. “Hey, wait, y/n, do you know how to get back to campus?”

You spin to face him when you're at the top of the hill, finally looking him in the eye. There’s a concerned expression on his face. “Yes, I’ll be fine. Thanks a lot for today. Let me buy you a strawberry vanilla soda sometime, okay?” Flashing him a small smile, you turn around and run down the hill, ignoring the fast beating of your heart.

a/n. thanks a bunch for reading!

➸ take me to chapter four!

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enwoso · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, I love your writing! I was wondering if you could write a fic where Rooney and Russo are recording there new podcast and they mention a funny story to do with you. With Alessia x reader pairing. You can make the story up but I thought it would be funny

third wheel | alessia russo

sorry to whoever requested this as it’s took me so long to actually finish it, but it’s finally here!

navigation

"hello! and welcome back to the tooney and russo show with me y/n l/n, and before you all ask don't worry i'm not stealing vic's job she's just poorly" you said down the microphone, getting yourself comfy in the big chair opposite the couch that alessia and ella were sat on.

"thank god we only have to put up with you for one episode!" ella says rolling her eyes playfully as you gasp, the two bursting into laughter.

"hey!"

"anyways i'm here with two of football most famous friends, alessia russo and ella toone!" you cheered as the two opposite you clapped as well as the people behind the cameras.

"are we the most famous friends?" ella turns asking alessia who shrugs, you clearing your throat to get the brunettes attention back.

"they've just written that on the script to boost your ego" you smile quickly before looking back down to the ipad as the ella starts laughing as does less.

“i’m not lying it’s on here!” you hold the ipad up in there direction showing them, “you really know how to make someone feel good about themselves don’t you, y/n!” ella jokes as you nod you head.

“it’s my speciality — ask lessi i do it on the daily for her!” you say winking jokingly towards less who shakes her head at your silliness.

“whatever helps you sleep at night love” alessia sighs, not wanting to disagree with you knowing the ramble you would go into.

"anyways before we get sidetracked anymore, the fans want to know a bit more about your routine when playing, asking if you find it hard to sleep before a big game?" you read out the question that was on the ipad in front of you.

"speaking on behalf of all three of us here, but we all sleep like babies!" ella says as you and alessia nod in agreement humming.

"yeah what's the saying, can sleep on a camels back" alessia blurts out making you make a confused face, as you mouthed a what to ella who shook her head also having no idea what the blonde had just said.

"that's not a saying babe, you've just made that up!"

"i have not, search it up!” the blonde defended her self as you still looked at her with a confused face trying to understand what she meant from her try at an inspirational message.

“um yeah moving on.. i sleep good all the time to be fair. but do either of you remember the night before the euro final?” you asked them both, ella nodding while less say shaking her head.

“oh yeah, i remember that night. do you not?” ella agreeing with you as she directed the last part of her sentence the blonde sat next to her, who shook her head while mumbling a no into the mic in front of her.

“so obviously we was staying in this really nice hotel, the tottenham hot spur hotel it was i think, and everyone was asleep and um in the night the automatic blinds kept coming up” ella explained as you nodded along.

“i never even noticed to be honest, but i remember you complaining about it in the morning” alessia pointed over to you.

“yeah and i only noticed them because you’d took all the blankets from me and i’d woke up freezing, and then-“ you began as the blonde across you cut you off with a gasp as her mouth went wide open.

“you say this all the time, but i don’t hog the covers!” the blonde said in a defensive tone, ella watching with a smirk on her face at the bickering between the two of you an occasional giggle coming from her.

“how would you know if you do or don’t? your asleep less?” ella commented as you hummed your eyes going wide, “exactly!”

“and then the stupid blinds kept me awake and then less had her alarm set for dead early and she didn’t even wake up — honestly worst night sleep i’ve ever had.” you grumbled carrying on with your small story as alessia mumbled into her mic about you being overly dramatic.

“oh i hate alarms me, i’m the type who had to wake straight up as soon as it goes off” ella says as you hum, “cause once you start snoozing, it’s game over”

“lessi is the worst for snoozing”

the podcast carry’s one as you talk along with the two girls, about random things that start a different conversation until you get up to the fan questions section of the pod.

“so we are up to when you guys at home get to know ella and lessi more off the pitch as they answer your questions where nothing is off limits, i’m excited for this bit” you smile down the camera before smirking to the two girls as they look at each other scared. you continuing to scroll through the ipad.

“first one is weirdest thing your both scared of?” you say giggling to yourself knowing what both of their answers are going to be.

“probably bananas” ella says pulling a face of disgust as you ask why. “i dunno, i just really don’t like them.

“um turkeys or just birds in general” alessia shrugs as your mind takes you back to the world cup of when there was loads of them there.

“there definitely both weird, the next one is directly for you lessi — this fan has said: alessia your half italian but can you actually speak it” you say reading the comment word for word off the ipad, looking up to see the blondes blank face as you begin to laugh along with ella.

“well i can understand it, i tried to learn how to speak it and i can speak a few words..” less trails off her words getting quieter and quieter with each one she spoke.

you raised your eyebrows humming in amusement, “yep and by tried you mean one duolingo lesson?”

“pretty hard to try and learn it when you have someone distracting you every five seconds wanting attention!” alessia argued, taking a sip of her water which was next to her.

“sorry for showing and giving my girlfriend some love?” you scoffed jokingly as you placed your hands in the air in defence. “next time i won’t bother” you added sassily.

the blonde pouting, mumbling along the lines of that you know that she loves giving you her attention you humming at her response, the blonde holding her hands up in an attempt at a heart with her fingers getting a small smile from you.

as ella dry retched down the mic, “do you have to do the lovey dovey stuff every where we go!”

“okay this is a good one, who’s the better driver” you ask, putting the ipad to the other side.

“well i think we can both agree who it’s not-“ alessia smirked pointed between her and ella who nodded in agreement knowing what the blonde was going to say.

“who?”

“you- do you not…” alessia began before you cut her off, “hang on the question wasn’t to include me, and i know the story your gonna tell and it’s gonna be completely wrong but carry on” you sulked, sinking further in the chair you were sat in opposite the two best friends.

“no so you were in a really tight parking spot, which can i add i told you not to park in-“ alessia began to tell the story in between laughs as tooney listened intently, you sat across from them with a frown on your face.

“—and there was this bollard to the right of the car and i told you that you were gonna hit it if you carried on but you were adamant you weren’t gonna hit it. and of course who was right cause then the back of your car ended up with a massive dent in the back along with scratches along the side”

“yeah but in my defense right, since i did move slightly the way you told me to and if i hadn’t i definitely would have missed it” you defended yourself as alessia rose her eyebrows not totally convinced.

“is this the day you came to england camp sulking?” ella asked as alessia nodded her head slowly in response for you, you not wanting to admit it.

“and now i’m banned from driving lessi’s car-“ your frown deepened.

“i mean i’m not surprised!”

“and that’s all we have time for today, before i get outed anymore!” you perked up once again, the two girls straightening themselves up as you looked down the central camera.

“like you haven’t been outing us for the whole ep love” alessia commented as you waved your hand at what she said.

“thanks for joining me, less and tooney as i third wheeled-“ you began again but got cut off by ella. “no i was, as always!”

“bye!”

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo x y/n #woso community #woso #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal women #awfc #arsenal wfc #awfc imagine #awfc x reader #lionesses #ella toone #england wnt #england women #enwoso

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godjo · 10 months ago

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tags — gojou x f!reader x bf!getou. ꒰ explicit smut. spitroasting. threesome. fellatio. cunnilingus. both are pussywhipped. fingering. facial. mindbreak. minors, blank, and ageless blogs dni. ꒱

from hunter — it is ovulation time, i have no excuse. i’ve been thinking too much about getou lately and this is the result. ✮

it’s just a silly, fun game, prompted by none other than your boyfriend’s best friend. nobody would’ve foreseen that the end of a movie night will have your pussy pounded by gojou while getou’s balls are smothered all over your sticky face.

“mhm, like that, pretty girl?” your boyfriend, getou, asks with an impish grin adorning his lips. his cock swells inside your mouth, proud and hard against your salivating tongue. balls clapping your chin, his bush tickling your nostrils.

of course, it’s impossible to respond, let alone signal anything because you’re too fucked out of your wits. the whites of your eyes continue to dominate, your mouth nonstop in its slabbering because damn it all, gojou fucks like a rabid animal.

sure, gojou has always been nasty, freaky in his own grandiose way. and it’s because of him why the three of you ended up naked, sweaty, and fucking each other to bliss. but gods, he’s never expected your pussy to feel like this.

he’s milking his cock with your velvet, tight walls from root to tip. cocktip tingling every time it kisses your cervix. your cunt has already made a mess, pussy juices painting your puffed up cunt lips and gojou’s heavy balls. it’s impossible to stop fucking you when you grip him like a lifeline.

“enjoyin’ yourself, satoru?” getou teases, seeing gojou’s feverish eyes, a dainty pink crawling over the apples of his cheeks. “c’mon, use your big boy words.”

“well, fuck you, suguru,” gojou answers between shallow breaths. he chuckles, then, deep and throated. “‘s this why you’re so goddamn pussywhipped?”

“damn right,” getou hisses, the unexpected swirl of your tongue around his cocktip snatching air from his lungs. “gettin’ greedy now, angel?” he coos, cupping both your ears to pin his pelvis against your face. “oh, fuck, your mouth feels amazing, pretty.”

“and your pussy, too,” gojou leans forward and whispers in the shell of your ear. “never fucked anything like this before.”

gojou’s nails dig craters in your soft flesh while he ruts into you at a pace that has your eyes tearing up. his cock feels so good— your brain almost shuts down because of the sensation if not for getou.

your boyfriend smiles fondly down at you, edged with thick mischief, as he pulls his cock out from your mouth and taps your cheek with his puffy cocktip. he shoves his balls between your lips, the ridge of his girth resting on the bridge of your nose while you suckle on his balls hefty with unreleased cum. getou’s lips went ajar, stars dancing in his eyes, crimson dusting his cheeks.

you chuckle, breathless and elated. he’s so handsome when he’s losing his mind over you.

“angel, my precious baby, you’re a naughty thing, aren’t you?” he shoves his cock inside your mouth again, this time fucking the inside of your cheek.

the lewd and unfiltered sounds he echoes send bolts down your spine, causing your damped pussy to clamp hard around gojou’s girth.

he throws his head back, biting his lips so hard they would bleed. gojou’s so close— and yet he wants to seize the moment, fucking himself with your pussy until his balls tighten and he’s only seconds from pumping your womb with cum.

gojou and getou pull out at the same time. their hesitation to let you go palpable in the ache between their chests. ache that’s been augmented by their climax. all you can hear are their mindless moaning and gasping and pumping.

getou’s heavy and viscid cum shoots up your face. to your cheeks, mouth, nose, and even eyelids. while gojou sends his own sticky cum all over your back.

the three of you falls on the couch, collecting the shattered sanity you’ve spent from hours of fucking. your body automatically searches for getou’s warmth, and he takes you in his arm, kissing the top of your head.

“sorry, pretty, i’ve made such a mess,” he murmurs as he wipes his cum from your face with his shirt. “look at me baby, let me kiss you.”

getou guides you on his lap. his strong, warm hands cup your heated cheeks, before claiming your lips. his hands roam around your body, locking you in, your sticky cunt pulsing against his flaccid cock.

“i love, love, love you,” he tells you hotly, each word laced with open-mouthed kisses. “wanna eat your pussy, angel. can i eat your pussy?”

“‘course, suguru,” you whisper in his mouth. “want to feel you. let me feel you, please?”

he swiftly shifts your position. you’re laying on the couch; getou pitches himself between your legs. he spreads your thighs apart, sniffing your tingling pussy before lapping on the soft folds.

“mhm, suguru, just like that— hah—” you bite your fingers, feeling getou’s warm tongue licking all over your cunt. threading his raven hair with your shaking fingers, you pull his face close and locks his head with your thighs.

“suguru, you know that’s like giving me a blowjob, right?” gojou poses from the nearest sofa. he’s still naked, as though he cannot move at all, but those piercing blue eyes are glued to the image before him.

getou merely gives him a lackadaisical finger; he cannot be bothered by anything, not even gojou’s teasing, once he’s got his tongue kitten licking your clit.

“‘m so close, baby, please—” you declare, hot tears springing in your eyes again. getou parts your fold with two fingers, pumping your pussy while licking your clit and losing himself on the job of making you come on his tongue.

like shockwaves in your brain, your ass rises from the couch, chasing the zenith, but getou holds you firmly. you shout his name, crying and screaming and moaning, because god— he’s not stopping even though you’re breaking from the pleasure of it all.

“suguru— hah—” you fall limp on your position, clueless about what to do, as another wave of release washes over you. you’re shaking, twitching, drooling under his mercy.

he snatches you in his arms again, soothing you with gentle confessions of his love, of how you’ve been so good for him, and how he’s crazy only for you.

you’re on the verge of falling asleep when a soft kiss falls on your bare shoulder. eyes heavy with fatigue, you follow its owner, just to see gojou preparing to leave.

“i’m leaving now. do you need anything?” he dials his phone on his way to the door, muttering different kinds of food and ordering everything to be delivered to getou’s place. there’s mischief on gojou’s face as he waves goodbye. “we should do this again sometime, don’t you think?”

“fuck off, satoru,” getou drawls with a knowing smile.

“i’ll take that as a yes,” his best friend replies, followed by trails of smoky laughter before he closes the door. <3

2024 godjo — do not repost, edit, or copy.

#mine ✮#jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #getou suguru smut #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x you

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lupinqs · 5 months ago

Text

CHAPTER FOUR ━━ I’ll Be Here

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 6.7K

❀ ━ warnings: descriptions of injury

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: i love them this is by far my favorite chapter so far i think my writing abilities have returned

JO FEELS alive out on the court. The rubbery squeak of sneakers against polished wood, the sharp clap of the ball on the floor, the steady rhythm of her breathing—all of it feels right. She’s glad to be back on campus, playing with her team. The off-month of July was nice, but August is already proving to be full of Connecticut basketball—which, frankly, Jo can’t get enough of.

She wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, sweat sticking to her skin. Practice is almost over, and everyone’s moving a little slower now, a little less sharp. Even Paige, who’s usually relentless, has started to show signs of fatigue. Not that Jo would say that out loud—Paige would probably take it as a challenge.

Jo glances at her. Paige is standing at half-court, hands on her hips, scanning the court with that laser focus of hers. Jo’s seen that look a hundred times since she’s got here, and she knows exactly what it means. Paige is plotting, figuring out how to dismantle Nika and Azzi’s defense, and Jo feels a flicker of anticipation.

Playing with Paige is easy. It has been since they first started. There’s something about the way Paige moves, the way she thinks, that just makes sense to Jo. It’s like Paige is speaking a language Jo didn’t even know she was fluent in until they started playing together.

The whistle blows and the ball is in play again. Jo takes off down the court, feet pounding, eyes scanning. Paige has the ball, weaving around Lou with an infuriating ease that makes it look like she isn’t even trying. Jo cuts to the left, then back right, trying to lose Azzi—and doing so—just in time for Paige to send a no-look pass her way.

The ball lands perfectly in her hands and Jo doesn’t even have to think. She takes the shot, her form automatic, muscle memory guiding her. The ball arcs high, spinning just right, and swishes clean through the net.

“Nice shot, Joey!” Paige calls, jogging over to bump shoulders with her.

Jo smiles a little, her cheeks feeling warm. Joey’s never been a nickname that anyone but her family calls her, but ever since that day in Boston, Paige has made it a point to call her it. Oddly enough, Jo sort of likes it. It makes sense that Paige has a nickname for her that the rest of the team doesn’t use, one for just the two of them. Paige is already moving, already focused on the next play, and Jo shakes her head, trying to refocus.

The game continues, and Jo and Paige fall into that easy rhythm again. They’re in sync in a way that’s almost unfair to the other team. Jo drives to the basket, Paige finds her with a perfect pass. Paige pulls up for a three, and Jo crashes the boards for the rebound just in case it doesn’t go in—not that Paige misses often.

And then, on the other end of the floor, Jo sees the opportunity before it even fully forms. Nika’s dribble falters for half a second, just enough for Jo to anticipate her next move. She lunges, quick hands swiping the ball clean, and takes off. There’s a surge of exhilaration as the ball leaves her fingertips in a perfect, arching pass up the court.

Paige is already there, as if she’s read Jo’s mind. She’s fast, faster than anyone on the court, her strides long and confident as she streaks toward the basket. Jo slows, her job done for the moment, and watches.

The ball lands in Paige’s hands like it was meant to be there, and she’s in full flight, her eyes locked on the basket. Jo can feel her own heart pounding in her chest, adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She doesn’t think about how good Paige looks like that—her bright blonde ponytail flying, the concentration set on her face, the fluidity of her movements—but the thought lingers at the edge of her mind anyway, uninvited and confusing.

Then, everything changes.

Paige plants her foot to go for the layup, and it happens so fast that Jo almost doesn’t process it at first. There’s a strange sound—something between a gasp and a groan—and then Paige is crumpling to the floor, clutching her knee.

Time seems to slow. The ball bounces, forgotten, the game dissolving in an instant as everyone rushes to Paige’s side. Jo’s body moves on autopilot, her legs carrying her before she can even really understand what’s happening.

She skids to her knees next to Paige, her heart racing so fast it feels like it might break free of her chest. Azzi and Nika are already there, their faces pale, their hands hovering as if afraid to touch Paige. Jo’s eyes dart to Paige’s knee, and her stomach twists violently. Paige’s hand is clamped over it, her other arm draped across her face to hide her tears, but Jo can still hear the shaky, uneven breaths the blonde is taking.

“It’s my knee,” Paige chokes out, her voice barely audible.

Jo’s breath catches. Her throat feels dry, and for a moment, she’s frozen, unable to force out a single word. The world around her seems to blur, the voices of her teammates fading into a muffled hum. Nika’s saying something, her voice soft but firm, trying to calm Paige down, but Jo doesn’t hear it clearly.

Because all she can think about is her own knee, two years ago, when she felt that same sickening shift, heard that same awful pop. She remembers the way the gym lights blurred as she hit the floor, the way the pain swallowed her whole, and the way everything—basketball, her future, her sense of self—seemed to unravel in that moment.

When Jo briefly makes eye contact at Azzi, she can tell she’s thinking the same thing.

Because now Paige is here, clutching her knee, tears slipping from beneath the arm covering her face, and Jo feels like she’s going to be sick.

Her hands shake as she reaches out instinctively, her fingers brushing against Paige’s. It’s a tentative gesture, one she isn’t sure will help, but then Paige’s hand blindly reaches for hers, gripping it hard. Jo swallows thickly, the lump in her throat making it hard to breathe, and her thumb moves in slow, deliberate circles over Paige’s knuckles.

Jo doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t trust herself to speak because every thought in her head is jagged and messy, spiraling out of control. ACL. ACL. ACL. It courses through her head like a mantra. Because the way Paige’s knee twisted, the way she fell—it’s too familiar, too similar to Jo’s own injury to ignore.

And if it is an ACL tear, then Paige is done for the season.

Jo clenches her jaw, trying to shove the thought away, trying to be the positive, optimistic girl she is, but it still lingers stubbornly. It feels like Paige just came back from an injury. Jo remembers watching the Notre Dame game last December—she was there, in support for her future team—and Paige had crumpled down on the court in the last minute, crying and clutching at her knee. Jo knows she went through surgery, through rehab, missing majority of the season, being sidelined while everyone else played. And now, to have this happen again—it’s not fair. It’s cruel.

Paige’s whole life is basketball. Jo knows that. She’s seen the way Paige pours everything she has into the game, how much she thrives on the court, how much she needs it. And Jo knows, too, how much it hurts to lose it, to have the game you love ripped away from you when you need it most.

Jo’s hand tightens around Paige’s, and she murmurs softly, almost unconsciously, “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.” She doesn’t know if Paige hears her, doesn’t know if the words mean anything, but it feels like the only thing she can do.

Paige squeezes Jo’s hand in response, her grip strong despite the tremor in her fingers. Jo’s heart aches at the silent plea in that touch, at the vulnerability in someone who’s always seemed so untouchable.

Eventually, Aaliyah and Aubrey kneel down on either side of Paige, their voices low and soothing. They coax her to sit up, their hands gentle as they help her shift her weight. Jo, Azzi, and Nika instinctively move back, giving them space, but Jo can’t seem to take her eyes off of Paige. She watches as Paige’s fingers slip from hers, the loss of contact leaving her feeling strangely hollow.

Jo stands, her legs stiff, her hands hanging uselessly at her sides. She watched as Aaliyah and Aubrey loop their arms around Paige’s shoulders, helping her to her feet. Paige’s face is tight with pain, her jaw clenched as she tries to put as little weight as possible on her injured leg.

It’s silent as Paige limps toward the trainer’s office, supported on either side. Jo stays rooted to the spot, her mind racing.

She can’t stop thinking about how this could be it—how this injury could take away everything Paige has been working toward. She can’t stop thinking about how Paige was determined to get that natty this year, how much she told Jo she was the missing piece for them to secure it. She can’t stop thinking about how unfair it all is.

And, most of all, she can’t stop thinking about Paige, about the tears hidden behind the arm draped over her face, about the way she reached for Jo’s hand without hesitation, as if Jo was the only anchor in a moment filled with pain and chaos.

Jo exhales shakily, nails digging into her palms. She knows the team will rally around Paige. They’ll support her, encourage her, do whatever it takes to help her through this. But right now, all Jo can do is stand there, her chest tight with worry and her mind looping endlessly through memories she’d rather forget.

She doesn’t want this for Paige. She doesn’t want this for anyone.

But as Paige disappears behind the gym doors, Jo can’t help but wonder if wanting it not to be true is enough to change anything.

JO SITS cross-legged on the worn couch in Nika, Amari, and Ice’s apartment, her knee bouncing nervously. It’s late, and the soft hum of the TV plays in the background, but she can’t focus on whatever show Ice flipped on. Her stomach twists as shifts next to her, phone in hand. Across the room, Amari and Ice are on the opposite couch, close enough to hear the incoming conversation but far enough to give some space.

Jo appreciates that. They all know how delicate this is, how fragile it all feels. No one wants to overwhelm Paige. She’s been through enough today.

Jo chews on the inside of her cheek as Nika taps on Paige’s contact and hits the FaceTime button. The dial tone seems to drag on forever, each ring stretching her nerves tighter and tighter. Jo adjusts her position, pulling her knees up to her chest, and hugs them as if that’ll somehow ground her.

When Paige answers, the screen fills with her face.

Jo’s heart clenches.

Paige looks tired—no, more than tired. She looks worn down, like the weight of the day has crushed something in her. There’s a forced smile on her lips, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Her hair is pulled back haphazardly, and her face is pale, her features drawn tight.

“Hey,” Paige says, her voice quiet but trying for upbeat.

“Hey,” Nika says softly, her usual bravado muted. Jo stays quiet, her throat dry.

“How are you feeling?” Nika follows up. Her tone is gentle, but there’s a tremble in her voice, like she’s already bracing for bad news.

Paige lets out a long breath, her gaze flickering away from the camera for a moment before coming back. “I’ve been better.”

The words hang in the air. Jo’s stomach twists even tighter.

“What’s the verdict?” Nika asks carefully.

Jo doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until Paige’s lips part.

“It’s my ACL,” Paige says, her voice cracking just slightly. She tries to steady herself, but the shaky breath she exhales gives her away.

Nika inhales sharply, and Jo can see her eyes immediately begin to swim. Instinctively, Jo shifts closer to Nika, resting her head on her shoulder. She feels like she’s been punched in the gut. She’s been preparing for this answer all day, replaying the moment over and over in her mind, but hearing it out loud makes it real in a way that feels unbearable.

“Oh my God,” Nika whispers, her tears beginning to fall. “Paige…”

Jo’s throat tightens painfully. She blinks rapidly, willing herself not to cry, but it’s a losing battle. The lump in her throat feels massive, her breathing uneven. She isn’t just upset because she won’t get to play with Paige this year—though that hurts like hell—but because she knows what this means for Paige.

Basketball is Paige’s life. It’s her everything.

Jo knows what it’s like to lose that, to have the sport you’ve built your whole world around ripped away from you. The endless months of rehab, the isolation, the frustration, the fear that you’ll never get back to where you were before—it’s hell. And Paige has already been through two other injuries within the last year alone; she doesn’t deserve this.

“It’s okay,” Paige says suddenly, her voice startling Jo out of her spiraling thoughts. Jo blinks, realizing that Paige is watching them both with an expression that’s equal parts exasperated and affectionate.

“You guys, come on,” Paige says, forcing a shaky laugh. “Why are you crying? I’m the one with the busted knee.”

Nika lets out a choked sob-laugh, wiping at her face. “Because we care about you, stupid!”

Jo can’t help the weak smile that tugs at her lips, even as the tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

Paige sighs, her forced smile softening into something more genuine, though still sad. “I’m okay, really,” she says, though her voice wavers. “It sucks. It really fuckin’ sucks. But God has his plans; everything happens for a reason. I’ll get through it.”

Jo’s chest tightens at that. Paige is trying to be strong for them, she realizes. She’s the one who’s hurt, the one who’s whole season has just been derailed, and yet here she is, comforting them.

“You don’t have to pretend to be okay,” Jo says quietly. Her voice is hoarse, but the words come out steady.

Paige’s gaze flickers to hers through the screen, and for a moment, the facade drops. Her shoulders slump a little, and she exhaled a trembling breath. “I know,” she says softly. “But I will be. Eventually.”

Jo nods, though she feels her eyes begin to swim again. She wants to say something, anything, but her mind feels blank, overwhelmed by the weight of it all, the familiarity of this shit.

“Aye,” Nika says firmly, voice steadier now despite her tear-streaked face. “We’re all here for you, P. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. Yeah?”

Paige smiles faintly, her eyes glassy but warm. “I know. Thanks, twin.”

Jo swallows hard, her hand massaging over the scar on her own knee as she fights to find her voice. “We’re gonna get through this together, okay?” she says finally, quiet but resolute.

Paige looks at her for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in her eyes, and then she bore. “Yeah,” she murmurs softly. “Together.”

The call ends a few minutes later, after more reassurances and promises to check in tomorrow. As the screen goes dark, Jo leans back against the couch, her head resting against the cushions. Her chest feels heavy, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess of worry, sadness, and determination.

Paige is going to need them now more than ever.

And Jo is going to make damn sure she’s there for her, every step of the way.

THE ROOM is quiet, the only sounds coming from the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional murmur of voices drifting in from the hallway. Paige lies on the stiff hospital bed, staring up at the dull ceiling tiles. Her body feels heavy, not from exhaustion but from the crushing weight of the situation. The thin blanket over her legs is tucked too tightly, and she wants to kick it off, but she doesn’t move. It’s not worth the effort.

Her thoughts churn endlessly, looping the same questions and doubts over and over and over again. How is she supposed to do this, how is she supposed to live without basketball for a year? A year feels like an eternity. It feels impossible.

She shifts slightly, wincing at the dull ache in her knee. It’s wrapped up tightly, immobilized, but she can still feel the deep, bone-deep throb of it. The pain doesn’t scare her; it’s familiar. It’s what the pain represents that makes her chest feel like it’s caving in.

Her parents and Drew are here, their presence comforting and supportive. She’s glad they’re here—it means a lot that her dad and Drew flew in last night, and that her mom showed up first thing this morning despite how they all live several states away, over halfway across the country for her mom. But when they all insisted on staying, hovering, she’d encouraged them to go get lunch. She’d thought she’d wanted some time alone.

Now, though, with the silence stretching around her, she regrets it. Being alone means being stuck with her thoughts, and her thoughts aren’t kind to her right now.

Paige tries to steady her breathing, inhaling deeply through her nose and letting it out slowly through her mouth, just like the trainers taught her when her anxiety flares up before big games. The comeback will be greater than the setback, she tells herself firmly, trying to internalize the words that have been repeated to her so many times over the past twenty-four hours. God has His plans. Everything happens for a reason.

But it’s so fucking hard.

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she blinks them back quickly, jaw tightening. She’s not going to cry. Not here. Not now. Her chest feels like it’s been hollowed out, the ache of it sharp and unrelenting. Basketball isn’t just her passion; it’s her identity. It’s who she is.

And now it’s gone.

For a year.

She squeezes her eyes shut, willing the despair away, but it only seems to grow heavier. A part of her wants to scream at the unfairness of it all, but she knows that won’t change anything. She knows what’s coming—the surgery, the long months of rehab, the lonely hours in the gym trying to rebuild herself from the ground up. She knows because she’s been through it before, though she knows this time will be far worse.

A soft knock on the door jolts her from her spiraling thoughts. Her eyes snap open, her heart skipping a beat. She quickly wipes at her face, hoping she doesn’t look as defeated as she feels.

“Come in,” she says hoarsely.

The door freaks open, and Paige stills in surprise.

Jo steps into the room, a small gift bag and what looks to be a card in hand and a hesitant, almost nervous smile on her face. She looks so out of place in the sterile hospital room, like a burst of color in a grayscale world.

“Hey,” Jo says softly, tone warm but tinged with uncertainty.

Paige stares at her for a moment, her brain scrambling to process the sight of her. She didn’t expect this at all. The teams plans are to visit her after the surgery, not before. Paige resigned herself to facing this part alone, just with her family.

But now Jo is here.

And for some reason, Paige feels her chest loosen slightly, like she can finally take a deep breath.

“Hey,” she greets, her voice cracking despite her best efforts.

Jo steps further into the room, shutting the door behind her. “I, uh, hope it’s okay that I’m here,” she says, glancing around awkwardly. “I just thought… I don’t know, I figured you might need some company before… I know your family’s here—I met them—and they, y’know, told me to come up and say hi…”

Her voice trails off, and she shifts on her feet, suddenly looking unsure of herself.

Paige feels a strange warmth bloom in her chest. She doesn’t know why, but seeing Jo here, with that goofy gift bag and that hopeful look on her face, feels like exactly what she needed.

“No, it’s—it’s more than okay,” Paige says quickly, her lips twitching into a small, genuine smile for the first time all day. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Jo’s face brightens slightly, and she steps closer, settling the gift bag on the small table next to the bed. “Good,” she says simply, her voice lighter now.

She settles gently on the edge of the hospital bed, her presence grounding yet unobtrusive. Paige feels the mattes dip beneath her weight and fights the urge to shuffle closer, some irrational part of her craving proximity. There’s something about Jo that feels a safe, like a lifeline, and Paige doesn’t even know why.

She watches Jo carefully, studies her as Jo’s gaze sweeps over her, taking in her entire figure as if searching for the right words. Paige stays quiet, letting her look. It’s easier than trying to fill the silence herself.

When Jo’s eyes linger on her leg—hidden under the blankets, immobile but looming in its absence of normalcy—Paige notices the flicker of something in Jo’s expression. A soft dimming, like a light bulb sputtering. Jo’s usually bright eyes dull just a fraction, but it’s enough to make Paige’s stomach twist.

She doesn’t like seeing that.

Jo exhales heavily, dragging a hand through her hair as if the gesture alone can lighten the mood. “I’m… God, I’m really sorry,” she says. Her voice is sincere and laced with the kind of frustration that comes from knowing words can’t fix anything. “I know everyone’s probably saying that, and I’m sure it doesn’t help, but I really am. I just…” she trails off, shaking her head.

The apology hands in the air, filling the room with a bitter truth that Paige can’t escape. She nods stiffly. “Thanks,” she says quietly, the words trembling at the edges. “It just… sucks.”

Her hands clench at the blanket bunched in her lap, fingers twisting the fabric as she tries to keep the rising tide of emotions at bay. But the sight of Jo, who’s usually so optimistic, looking even slightly defeated by the situation feels like a punch to the gut. Paige can barely handle her own disappointment; she doesn’t need to see it reflected in Jo’s eyes, too.

Jo looks at her for a long moment, and then she nods. “I know,” she says softly. Her voice is low and calm, a salve to Paige’s raw emotions. “I get it. I really do.”

Something about those words ignites a spark of frustration in Paige, a flare of anger born from sadness and exhaustion. Her voice comes out sharper than she intends, cutting through the quiet like a knife. “Do you?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she regrets them. The bitterness in her tone feels wrong, feels cruel, and the second she hears it escape herself, guilt tugs at her. This is Jo, the sweetest person Paige knows, who didn’t have to come here but did anyway, who’s been nothing but kind since the moment they met. Jo doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of Paige’s frustration, no matter how much everything sucks right now.

Paige braces herself for a reaction—a flicker of annoyance, maybe, or even a hint of anger. But when Jo meets her eyes, there’s no trace of either. Her expression is soft, gentle, almost unbearable understanding.

“Yes,” Jo says quietly, after a beat. “I do.”

Paige blinks, caught off guard by the steadiness in Jo’s voice.

Jo shifts slightly on the bed, her gaze unwavering. “A couple years ago, when I was a junior,” she starts, her tone light but carrying an unmistakable weight, “I tore my ACL. Same leg as yours. Took me out for the rest of the season.”

The words hit Paige like a freight train, stealing the air from her lungs. For a moment, all she can do is stare at Jo, her mind reeling. She feels like an idiot—no, worse than that, a complete dick. She lashed out, accused Jo of not understanding when Jo actually does understand better than most people ever could.

Paige’s mouth opens, then closes again, her thoughts racing. She’s known about Jo for years, followed her on social media long before they were teammates. Jo was the single most sought-after recruits in her class, and Paige had watched her basketball highlights serval times. How had she not known about this? How had she missed something so monumental?

Her eyes flicker down to Jo’s legs, as if she can scan through her leggings for a sign of a scar. Has she ever looked closely at Jo’s knees? She tries to picture it, tries to remember if she’s seen anything, but she can’t. She wonders if it’s because Jo hides it well or if she just wasn’t enough attention.

Guilt settles heavily in her chest, mingling with a fresh wave of sadness. “Jo,” she says softly, barely a whisper.

Jo shakes her head quickly, cutting her off before she can apologize. “It’s okay,” she says earnestly. “Really. I didn’t bring it up to make you feel bad. I just.. I want you to that you’re not at all alone, okay? I know it feels like everything’s falling apart right now, and I know it’s going to suck for a while. But you’re gonna get through it. And you’re gonna come back an even better player than you were before, because I know you, and you will. Okay?”

The words hit Paige in a way that nothing else has since this whole ordeal started. She feels a lump form in her throat, and this time, she doesn’t try to fight it. She lets the tears come, hot and fast, and Jo doesn’t flinch. “Okay,” Paige forces out, nodding through the tears.

Jo lets her cry for a few moments, a bead of silent support. And then as the tears begin to slow, Jo shifts a little, smiling that smile at Paige—wide and easy and damn near perfect—Paige feels her chest loosen some, the tears finally halting.

Jo reaches over and grabs the gift bag from the small table near the bed, holding it up. “Please don’t laugh,” she tells Paige.

Paige blinks at her, still wiping at the tears streaking her cheeks, a soft chuckle escaping despite herself. “Why would I laugh?” she asks, sounding raspier than usual from the crying.

“Just don’t,” she insists, leaning forward to hand Paige the bag.

There’s something so endearing about Jo’s seriousness that Paige finds herself smiling again, the kind of smile that feels foreign right now but also deeply necessary. She pulls the tissue paper out of the bag slowly, dragging out the moment to tease Jo, who’s clearly fighting the urge to rush her along. Finally, Paige reaches inside and pulls out the gift.

A purple dragon Squishmallow.

For a second, Paige just stares at it, her brain short-circuiting at the sheer unexpected of it. Then, a laugh bubbles out of her, surprising even herself. It’s not the kind of laugh that mocks or undermines—there’s nothing mean-spirited about it. Instead, it’s warm and light and laced with something close to gratitude.

“I told you not to laugh!” Jo exclaims, though she’s grinning at Paige.

“I’m not laughing at it,” the blonde defends, though she’s still giggling as she turns the plush dragon over in her hands, taking in its soft fabric and adorable face. “I just… I dunno. It’s cute.” She pauses, then adds softly, “Thank you.”

Jo’s smile softens, and she nudges Paige’s shoulder lightly. “I know it’s dumb, but…” Jo shrugs, leaning back slightly, her gaze flickering to the dragon in Paige’s hands. “When I tore my ACL, my mom get me what she called an emotional support stuffed animal, and as stupid as it sounds, it helped. Like, just having something to hold onto when things got hard, y’know? So, I figured… maybe it could help you, too.”

Paige blinks, her eyes darting to the Squishmallow again, her fingers brushing over its wings. It’s not just a gift; it’s a piece of Jo’s own experience, her way of saying, I’ve been here, and I made it through, and you will too. And somehow, that makes it mean so much more.

And then Paige realizes—Bubbles. The plush turtle that Jo’s always carrying around—the one Paige’s seen tucked under Jo’s arm while she’s lounging on the couch or sitting at the kitchen table, absentmindedly holding it while scrolling through her phone. That’s the emotional support stuffed animal. The thought makes Paige smile again, and she feels something warm and unfamiliar bloom deep within her chest, right around the crevices of her heart.

Jo tilts her head, watching her with a curious expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” Paige says quickly, though her lips curve upward involuntarily.

Jo narrows her eyes but doesn’t press, instead gesturing toward the dragon. “You gotta name it.”

Paige hums, thinking. And then she smirks, holding up the stuffed animal like it’s a crown jewel. “I’m naming her Sunny.”

Jo smiles. “Why Sunny?”

Paige shrugs. “I dunno. It just… fits.”

Jo seems satisfied with the answer, and Paige can’t help but feel a little triumphant. Jo doesn’t have to know the truth—that Paige picked the name because it reminds her of Jo, her own little pocket of sunshine. It’ll make her think of Jo every time she looks at the dragon.

Paige clutches Sunny to her chest, the plush fabric warm and comforting. Her eyes drift to the bedside table, where the card Jo brought in sits, its bright colors standing out. She tilts her head toward it. “What’s that?”

Jo follows her gaze, her expression shifting from amusement to mild apprehension as she leans over and grabs the card. “Oh, right,” she says, shaking her head a little, like she’d almost forgotten about it. She hesitates before handing it to Paige, fiddling with the edge of the envelope. “Um, it’s from Celeste. She saw me in the gym today and told me to give it to you. I thinks she, uh, really likes you.”

Jo’s voice is casual, but there’s an edge to it, a faint curiosity and something that Paige can’t place.

Paige furrows her brows as she takes the care, but she doesn’t open it. Instead, she stares at it for a moment, her stomach tightening. Celeste. Paige doesn’t like this. Not the care, not the fact that Celeste gave it to Jo, of all people, and definitely not the implication that Celeste likes her.

Paige just shakes her head, setting the card back down on the table without even looking inside.

Jo grins, biting back a laugh. “Paige,” she says, her voice lilting, teasing.

“I don’t want a card from her,” Paige says flatly, her tone sharper than she intends. She hugs Sunny a little tighter, as if the stuffed animal can shield her from that.

“She likes you,” Jo repeats, drawing out the words.

“Well, I don’t,” Paige says quickly. She glances at the card again, like it’s something toxic. “It was just casual.”

“Well,” Jo starts, her tone slow and deliberate, her eyes sparkling with mischief, “I don’t blame her. You really seemed to rock her world that one night.”

Paige’s head snaps toward Jo, her face heating up instantly. “Joey!” she exclaims, swatting Jo’s shoulder lightly, her mortification growing by the second. She remembers how she thought Jo was asleep, but then how Jo confirmed the next morning that she was in fact, not asleep. And how she’d heard all of Paige and Celeste’s… activities.

Jo bursts out laughing, and Paige can’t help but laugh too, even as she buries her face in Sunny, groaning. “You’re so annoying,” she mumbles, her words muffled by the plush dragon.

The laughter lingers between them, soft and warm, like a secret bubble in the otherwise sterile hospital room. Jo’s grinning at her, and Paige can’t help but hold onto Sunny tighter, as if clutching the dragon can somehow anchor her to this fleeting moment of happiness.

Then the door opens, and the bubble pops. Paige’s mom steps in, her expression shifting from neutral to outright surprise when she sees them.

“Hi, Mom,” Paige says, smiling at her.

Amy’s gaze flickers between Paige and Jo, her brows lifting as if she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. She looks relieved, probably at the fact that she’s seeing a genuine smile on Paige’s face for the first time since she got to Connecticut.

“Hi, sweetie,” Amy says, her tone careful, like she doesn’t want to disrupt whatever this is.

Jo stands almost immediately, smoothing her shirt as she steps away from the bed. “Here, I won’t keep you any longer,” she says, her tone polite but casual, the way Jo always is.

Paige feels an unexpected song at the thought of Jo leaving, her laughter fading too quickly. Before she can even think about it, her hand shoots out, grabbing Jo’s wrist. “Wait,” she blurts, her voice more urgent than it should be.

Jo stops, her eyes flickering down to where Paige’s fingers wrap around her hand. She doesn’t pull away, but Paige can feel the hesitation in her stillness, like she’s waiting for Paige to explain herself.

Paige swallows thickly, suddenly hyper-aware of her mom’s presence, the newfound tension in the air. But she doesn’t let go. “Will you… will you be here when I wake up?” she asks, her voice quieter now, almost shy.

Jo’s eyes soften immediately, the hesitation melting into something gentler. “As long as you want me here,” she says, steady but sure, like it’s the easiest promise in the world to make.

Paige’s heart picks up just slightly, and she squeezes Jo’s hand a little. “Of course I do,” she murmurs.

Jo’s smile is small but genuine, the kind of smile that makes Paige’s heart ache a little in the best way. “Then I’ll be here,” Jo says simply.

The words hang between them for a moment, and then Jo steps back, her fingers flipping from Paige’s grasp. The loss is instant and sharp, but Paige forces herself to let go, watching as Jo gives her mom a polite nod and heads for the door.

As soon as Jo is gone, Amy crosses the room to Paige’s bedside, her eyes still wide with something Paige can’t decipher. Then, Amy blurts, “P, she is so adorable!”

“Mom,” Paige says, drawing the word out, her cheeks heating.

“I mean it!” Amy continues, her grin wide and unguarded. “She’s sweet, and funny, and, I mean, seriously, she’s been amazing. She absolutely did not have to come today, but she did. Paige, you are so lucky to have her.”

Paige’s lips curve into a small smile despite herself. Her mom isn’t wrong. Jo has been amazing—more than amazing, if Paige’s chest full of warmth and what she thinks might be fucking butterflies is any indication. She hugs Sunny close, her fingers brushing over the dragon’s soft fabric as she thinks about Jo’s stupid, perfect smile and the way her laughter filled the room like sunshine.

“Yeah,” Paige says softly, almost to herself. “I am.”

JO SITS in the stiff chair of the waiting room, shifting every few minutes as if she can find some magical position that’ll make the tension in her chest ease. The hum of fluorescent lights overhead is steady and oppressive, a constant reminder of how clinical this place is. The occasional sound of a nurse’s squeaky shoes against the linoleum and f the distant beeping of a minute only makes the waiting worse.

Paige’s family is here, of course. Drew, Paige’s little brother, is perched beside her, his legs too short to touch the floor. He’s been playing video games on Paige’s iPad that he’s borrowed, occasionally glancing at Jo with a curious look that makes her feel both self-conscious and oddly endearing. Drew’s nine, all wild energy and blunt honesty, and Jo’s thankful he seems to like her. She’s always been good with kids—she has Mia, so she knows how to be patient, how to meet them where they are—but still, there’s something about being around Paige’s family that feels different. Like she’s auditioning for a role she’s not even sure she’s qualified for. Truthfully, she doesn’t know why she cares so much.

“Rematch,” Drew says, handing her the iPad without waiting for a response.

Jo chuckles, taking it. “You sure? I got you good last time.”

“I wasn’t trying my hardest,” Drew says seriously, though there’s a glint in his eyes.

They dive into the game, and for a little while, it’s easy to forget where they are. Jo even gets Drew to laugh when she deliberately fumbles one of the controls, letting him win. He gloats, much like his sister, but Jo doesn’t mind.

Eventually, though, Drew gets bored, as kids do, and he starts tugging on his dad’s sleeve. “Can we go get something to eat?” he whines.

Paige’s dad, who’s been scrolling through his phone with the same restless energy Jo feels, stands immediately. “Alright, let’s go, buddy. Jo, you want anything?”

Jo shakes her head. “I’m good, thanks.”

And then it’s just her and Amy.

The room feels quieter now, probably because it is without Drew’s chatter, and Jo suddenly doesn’t know what to do with her hands. She folds them in her lap, tracing the edge of her nail with her thumb as Amy turns to her.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Amy says earnestly after a moment. “I know Paige is, too.”

Jo blinks, caught off guard. “Of course,” she says, quickly. “I’ll always be here. I hope she knows that.”

Amy kids, her expression shifting to something more contemplative. “I think she does. But I want you to know, too. It means a lot to me, seeing her smile.”

Jo tilts her head, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I was with her all day, and I didn’t see her smile through any of it,” she says, her voice tinged with something heavy. “Not until you were in the room with her. And you didn’t just make her smile, Jo. You made her laugh. Really laugh.”

The words settle in Jo’s stomach, setting something alight, warm and unfamiliar. She doesn’t know what to say at first, so she just nods, looking down at her hands as she feels a faint blush creep onto her cheeks. “I just… I like to make people smile,” she’s says finally, almost shyly.

Amy’s smile is knowing, like she sees something in Jo that Jo hasn’t quite figured out yet. “I can tell,” she says. “You’re good at it.”

The compliment sends more heat into Jo’s face. “Thanks,” she murmurs, looking up at Any and offering a small, genuine smile of her own.

Eventually, Bob and Drew come back, and Azzi and Nika arrive, everyone who means so much to Paige, all there for her. Jo’s glad. But, oddly enough, there’s a part of Jo that feels almost… protective? She doesn’t know if that’s the word for it, but it’s almost like she wants to be the one Paige sees first when she opens her eyes. She knows it’s not her place—not even close—but she feels it anyways.

It’s a little weird, if she’s honest.

But as Jo sits there, waiting, she knows, with absolute certainty, that she’ll stay as long as Paige needs her. Longer, even.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wcbb #wbb #uconn #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers series #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #ncaa wbb #wcbb x reader #wlw #lgbtq #nobody gets me

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redicillin · 3 months ago

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Hiiii, could you write smth about reader (part of House's team) and Chase teasing and throwing suggestive comments each other all the time until something actually happens?Thanksss

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬. (𝐫.𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞)

whilst your’s and chase’s relationship was… unconventional, you never crossed any true lines. until you did.

CW | 18+ MDNI. afab!reader, definitely not allowed workplace engagements, unprotected piv, porn with plot

fem!reader ☆ 4.3k ☆ masterlist.

The fluorescent lights hum softly overhead as you flip through the patient’s chart, skimming the details of yet another medical mystery.

A 37-year-old woman with an unexplained fever, muscle weakness, and—of course—negative test results for every common diagnosis. House’s kind of case. Your kind of case.

“Could be lupus,” Chase offers, leaning lazily against the back of his chair.

“It’s never lupus,” you counter automatically, not bothering to look up.

“One day, it will be,” he muses, smirking at you. “And when that happens, I’ll personally accept your apology… preferably over dinner,”

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth betrays you with the hint of a smirk. “You assuming I’d take you to dinner if you were right is cute. Delusional, but cute,”

“Then I’ll settle for drinks. You can even pretend it’s a pity outing,”

House, who has been listening to your exchange with barely concealed amusement, finally interjects. “I’d tell you two to get a room, but I think you’d rather keep up this foreplay in front of an audience,”

Cameron coughs, Foreman scoffs, and Chase—completely unfazed—shrugs. “If we’re keeping score, I think I’m winning,”

You arch a brow at him, shifting in your seat. “Oh? And what exactly are you winning?”

“The game,” He leans in just slightly, voice dropping enough to sound almost conspiratorial. “You know… the one where you pretend you’re not enjoying this,”

Your pulse jumps for just a second before you scoff, shaking your head. “You wish,”

House claps his hands together, effectively cutting through the moment. “Much as I’d love to watch this unresolved sexual tension play out in real time, we have an actual patient. So unless this is leading to some kind of medically relevant insight, I’d suggest you both channel that energy into something useful,” He pauses, eyes flicking between you and Chase before smirking. “Or at least wait until after work to rip each other’s clothes off,”

Cameron looks deeply uncomfortable, Foreman mutters something about needing new colleagues, and Chase? Well, Chase just winks at you, smug as ever.

Game on.

—

The patient’s condition is getting worse, and House is nowhere to be found—probably off harassing Cuddy or playing mind games with Wilson. That leaves the rest of you huddled around the conference table, sorting through test results.

You tap a pen against your lips, eyes narrowed at the list in front of you. “Her liver enzymes are elevated, but no sign of hepatitis. Negative for Wilson’s disease, negative for autoimmune markers…”

“Could be a parasitic infection,” Cameron suggests, glancing up from her notes.

Chase leans back in his chair, tilting his head toward you. “Sounds messy. I hope you don’t mind getting your hands dirty,”

You shoot him a look. “That depends. Are you offering to be my assistant? Or just my parasite?”

Foreman groans, rubbing his temples. “Oh my God. Can you two just—?”

Cameron nudges his arm before he can finish. “Shh. I have twenty bucks on them cracking by the end of the week,”

You and Chase turn to her at the same time. “Excuse me?”

Cameron shrugs, feigning innocence. “It’s nothing personal. It’s just… kind of obvious,”

Foreman crosses his arms, smirking slightly. “I said a month, but now I’m reconsidering. You two can’t go five minutes without turning everything into an innuendo,”

“You’re imagining things,” you say smoothly, ignoring the way Chase’s knee just barely brushes against yours under the table.

“Yeah,” Chase adds, grinning. “I’d never use a serious medical discussion to flirt,”

You scoff. “Right. Because that would be wildly inappropriate,”

Cameron exchanges a knowing glance with Foreman. “Exactly,”

—

The hospital is quieter at night. The usual hum of activity dulls to an ambient murmur of overnight nurses and the occasional beeping monitor.

You’re in the diagnostics office, reviewing test results while Chase leans against House’s desk, absentmindedly tossing a stress ball in the air.

It’s just the two of you.

“This is the part where I should tell you to go home,” you say, not looking up from the file. “But I know you won’t listen,”

Chase catches the ball in one hand and smirks. “And miss out on the chance to keep you company? I’d never,”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “What a gentleman,”

He pushes off the desk and moves closer, just enough for you to feel the shift in proximity. “I can be, when it suits me,”

The air is different tonight. He’s always been flirtatious, always toeing the line, but this time, there’s something heavier in the silence that lingers between words.

You glance up at him, and for a moment, neither of you speak. It would be easy to close the gap. To push just a little further.

But you don’t.

Instead, you exhale, shaking your head as you look back down at the file. “You should really get some sleep, Chase.”

He lingers for just a second longer before letting out a soft chuckle. “Yeah,” he murmurs, stepping back. “You too,”

As he leaves the office, you find yourself staring at the door for longer than you should.

—

It’s been one of those shifts where the exhaustion settles deep into your bones, where you feel like you’ve been going nonstop for days, even though it’s only been a few hours.

Chase, ever the one to escape stress with some humor, suggests grabbing drinks. The others quickly agree, but you and Chase end up walking out of the hospital together, the others trailing behind.

You’ve worked together long enough to know the difference between casual group outings and just the two of you.

When you get to the bar, the atmosphere is warm, filled with the sound of low conversations and the clink of glasses. You order your drinks, the chatter flowing easily at first. It’s comfortable—like it always is when you’re with Chase—but tonight, there’s something different. The usual teasing that’s exchanged over the complexities of medicine starts to feel like something else.

“Well, you know, if you were paying attention, I did say we should run the ANA panel last time,” you tease, stirring your drink. You catch him watching you, his expression almost smug, but you don’t break eye contact.

“Oh, I heard you,” he replies, his voice low, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “I just didn’t think you were right,”

You tilt your head with a scoff, narrowing your eyes. “But now you do?”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” he replies, taking a step closer. “But I think you like the challenge of proving me wrong,”

You lean back in your chair, trying to act unaffected, but your heart races. The space between you has closed in ways you hadn’t expected. “Not everything’s a challenge, Chase,”

He grins, his voice dropping a little further. “Sure about that? Because if you think I can’t keep up with you, I’m happy to prove you wrong,”

It’s playful. It’s always playful, right?

But tonight, there’s an edge to it. A tension that neither of you have addressed, but both of you are clearly aware of.

The way his eyes follow your movements. The way his smile lingers just a second too long on your lips. You feel the weight of his words like a challenge you don’t want to back down from.

It’s subtle, but it’s there—an almost imperceptible shift. You feel it when his hand brushes against yours on the bar. He doesn’t pull away immediately, and neither do you. For a heartbeat, everything around you fades, leaving only the space between the two of you.

It would be easy. So easy.

You could lean in, and he could kiss you, and you wouldn’t need to say a word. You could blame it on the alcohol, or the exhaustion, or just the chemistry that’s been crackling between you for weeks now.

But then, just as quickly as it started, you both pull back.

You laugh—maybe a little too loud, trying to cover up the moment that nearly shattered the wall you’ve both built around yourselves. “You’re an idiot,” you say, a little breathless, fingers tapping nervously on the edge of your glass.

Chase smirks, but there’s something softer in his expression now. “Yeah, well, it’s a good thing you like idiots.”

He leans back, turning his attention to his drink, and the playful banter resumes—but it’s different. There’s an edge to it now, an undercurrent of something else simmering beneath the surface.

Neither of you acknowledges it directly. Instead, you both talk about the case again, acting like nothing has changed. But you both know. Neither of you is fooled.

For the first time, the game isn’t just a game anymore. And it’s only a matter of time before one of you breaks.

—

The next day is a blur of frantic phone calls, lab reports, and running from one department to the next. The case has taken a turn for the worse, and the pressure is palpable.

Everyone is on edge, moving faster than usual, but the answers still aren’t coming. You and Chase work side by side, your minds racing with the mounting frustration.

The stress is starting to take its toll.

You’re reviewing the latest test results when Chase steps closer, his eyes scanning the board. “We’re missing something. There’s got to be a piece we’re overlooking,”

You feel his breath just a little too close, your heartbeat quickening. “Yeah, no kidding,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. “If I knew what that piece was, I’d have figured it out by now,”

“Don’t snap at me,” he says, voice quiet but teasing. “I’m on your side here,”

You glance at him, frustration flashing in your eyes. “You think I don’t know that?”

The tension between you is thick, heavier than it’s been before, each word a spark in the charged air. The room feels too small, too close, the adrenaline turning everything you say and do into something else—something that doesn’t belong in a hospital.

Chase takes a step back, but the distance doesn’t help. He’s still close enough to make your skin feel tight, still close enough for you to hear the quiet beat of his pulse beneath the surface.

“Sorry,” You sigh, exasperatedly taking your hands through your hair. “I’m just stressed,”

There’s a pause, a breath held in the space between you. Then, without a word, he steps forward, his hand finding your arm.

“You need a break,” he says, his voice low and urgent.

You swallow hard, feeling your breath catch in your throat. “I don’t need a break. I need answers,”

But the words feel hollow even as you say them. You don’t need answers. Not right now.

Before you can think, before you can even process what’s happening, Chase pulls you gently but firmly down the hallway, into a small, empty supply closet.

It’s a tight fit—your back pressed against the cold wall, his body just a breath away. The air in the small room is thick with the same kind of tension that’s been building between you for weeks, but now, it’s palpable. You can feel it in your skin, in the way your breath comes faster than it should.

You give a small laugh. “This isn’t the break room,”

And then, just like that, the moment snaps.

Chase closes the space between you, his lips crashing into yours. It’s not the slow, teasing kiss you expected—it’s urgent, hungry, desperate. All the months of flirtation, the innuendos, the playful jabs, finally culminating in this.

His hands slide to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can’t help but respond, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, and the world outside the closet fades away. There’s only the rush of adrenaline in your veins, the heat of his touch, the way your bodies move in sync, as though they’ve always known this was coming.

His hands slide down your back, pressing you even closer, and for a moment, you forget about the case, forget about everything but this. His lips trail down to your neck, and you let out a soft gasp, heart pounding in your chest.

“Are we really doing this right now?” you breathe, barely able to form the words as your breath hitches in your throat.

Chase pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression intense, searching. “Do you want to?” he asks, voice low, a mixture of desire and uncertainty.

Your mind races, the heat of the moment clouding your thoughts. But you don’t hesitate.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word barely escaping your lips before you pull him back to you.

The kiss picks up again, but this time, it’s more than just passion. There’s an urgency to it—something unspoken that has been building for far too long.

His hands roam, slipping beneath your shirt, and you don’t stop him. Every touch feels electric, igniting something deep inside you. The adrenaline from the case, the rush of being so close, the need to feel something more than just the constant stress of the hospital… it all comes together in that moment.

You don’t think about the consequences. You don’t think about anything except the way he makes you feel.

But even in the haze of desire, the question lingers. What happens after? What happens when the game is over?

Right now, though, you don’t care. All that matters is the way his lips feel against your skin, the way his hands fit perfectly against you. It’s everything and nothing at once.

And for the first time, you don’t pull away.

Chase is driven insane by the smallest things. The way your fingers curled into his belt-loops to tug him closer. The feel of your nails, scraping over his scalp as your hand slides through his hair. The way you breathe his name as he dips his head, mouthing at the hollow of your throat.

Too much. He thinks, as one hand comes up to curl around your wrist, pinning your hand against the door of the closet. Too much but still not enough.

He’s lost the ability for rational thought. It’s been pushed aside for need, for desire. Your name’s a constant on his lips, a hushed whisper as he presses kisses onto your neck. Teeth skimming over your skin, tongue soothing the light sting.

He finally draws back to meet your gaze. His expression is dark, pupils blown wide and his cheeks flushed so pretty. “I want you.” He says it as an absolute truth. As if you don’t already know that by the way his knee is slotted between your thighs.

He watches you. The way your lips part on a breath, an almost involuntary sound falling from them as he draws his knee up. “God, look at you,” He murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, “So pretty already and I’ve barely even touched you,”

His hand slides up the inside of your thigh, his touch almost reverent. The tip of his nose grazes your ear as his fingers dip under the edge of your pants. “Want you. So, so goddamn badly.”

And in contrast to the sweet way he speaks to you, the way he’s touching you is downright dirty. It sets the pit of your stomach on fire as his hand dips lower, cupping you through your panties and giving a slow, testing drag of his palm.

It’s a low, breathy moan that escapes you, your eyes fluttering closed for just a moment and your head thumping lightly against the door. “God-“ he groans, “I’m not going to last.” He hooks a finger around the waistband of your pants and tugs them down just enough for him to get a better purchase on you.

He doesn’t even tease. His hand immediately slips under the soft, black cotton of your underwear, his fingers dipping into you in a fluid motion. “God you’re so hot—“ He asks, his breath hot against your ear. “All this for me?”

Your answer comes in the form of a stifled gasp, your hips moving of their own accord to meet his hand. “Chase.” It’s the only word you manage, and it’s half formed, coming out on a whimper. Like you’re pleading.

It’s that sound and your pleading tone that does him in. His breath shudders out of him in a low sound of want. “You’re killing me.” He mutters, his words punctuated by the sound of his belt unbuckling.

He’s impatient, and it’s evident in the way his hand pushes at the fabric of your underwear. There’s nothing romantic about it, no sweet murmurs of sweet nothings or gentle coaxing. It’s needy and desperate and it’s you and that’s all that matters.

He keeps one hand planted on the wood of the door, keeping you pinned in place. The other dips, and the feel of his fingers is immediately replaced by the head of his cock, already leaking as it stretches out your entrance.

A low curse is muttered, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

He moves with purpose, his hips rolling forwards and pushing his length into you in a single steady motion. Chase gives a quiet grunt, his breath coming in shuddering gasps.

The whole thing feels like it’s happening so fast. Too fast. Neither of you are thinking clearly. But it’s you and it’s him and his face is still buried in the crook of your neck and his cock stretches you out so good that it leaves you whining.

His hand drops from the door, shifting to grip one of your thighs and hitch it over his hip. It gives him a different angle, one that he takes full advantage of.

He picks up the pace, and the hand that he’s gripping your thigh with gives it a firm squeeze. “I’ve thought about this.” He whispers, the words almost lost against your skin, “Can’t get you out of my head.”

He’s babbling now, his words low and punctuated by heavy breaths. And you’re so pretty like this, your eyes squeezed shut and your back arched against the door as he takes and takes and takes.

He can’t remember the last time he came so quickly. All it takes is a sound from you, a breathy sigh of his name and he’s done. He lets himself lose control, giving a loud curse as his hips stutter in their motion, desperately trying to pull out despite the instinct to bury his spend inside you.

Instead, it dribbles down the inside of your thighs, coating your skin and your underwear alike.

The moments after are filled with a tense, lingering quiet. Neither of you speaks immediately, neither of you moves to pull away. Your heart is still racing, your mind spinning with everything that just happened.

Chase stands there for a moment, his forehead resting gently against yours, both of you catching your breath. But neither of you says anything.

It’s like a flicker, an electric pulse, that connects you both, and then just as quickly as it began, it feels like a weight pressing down. The weight of what just happened, of the unspoken words, of the fact that everything has changed.

“Chase…” You break the silence, your voice a whisper, uncertain. You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, but the question sits heavy on the tip of your tongue. What now?

He steps back slowly, his hands resting at his sides. He doesn’t look at you directly, his jaw tight. “We shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have…”

But the words trail off, unsaid. He doesn’t finish the sentence, and neither do you.

A moment passes, and the world starts to feel like it’s slowly realigning around you both. The air no longer feels suffocating, but it’s thick with the weight of everything you didn’t say. Neither of you makes a move to break the silence. Finally, Chase gives a sharp exhale. “We should get back to work.”

You nod, a little too quickly, still lost in the aftershock. Your fingers graze your lips, still tingling from the kiss and everything after, but you don’t let yourself linger on it. There’s nothing to say.

Not yet.

—

The next day, you and Chase are back in the diagnostic office like nothing happened. Well, almost nothing. The air between you is a little too thick, a little too aware of the space you now share. Every word feels heavier, more loaded. And whenever your eyes meet, it’s like there’s something you both are trying not to acknowledge.

But neither of you says a word.

It’s House, of course, who does notice. He’s always observant, always sharp when it comes to his team’s dynamics. He watches the two of you from across the room with a knowing smirk, almost as if he’s been waiting for this.

“Is it just me,” House drawls, breaking the silence as he slides into the office, “or does it feel like someone’s been… busy?”

You freeze, and you can feel Chase tense next to you. You don’t want to look at him, not with House’s smirk aimed squarely at both of you. You can’t look at him.

“You two should get a room,” House continues, unbothered by the tension hanging in the air. “It’s honestly like a live soap opera around here,”

Cameron, overhearing from the other room, raises an eyebrow. “What’s going on now?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, barely able to keep your cool. “Nothing happened,”

But House just fakes a sigh, fishing out his wallet and holding out a twenty dollar bill in Cameron’s direction. “I guess I owe you twenty bucks,”

You can hear the amusement in his voice as he takes a seat at his desk, eyes gleaming with too much satisfaction. He’s not going to let this go. Not for a second.

“You guys slept together?” Cameron’s voice is a mix between amusement and mortification as she takes the cash, and you groan.

Chase clears his throat and straightens up, trying to salvage some sense of normalcy. “It’s nothing to write home about,”

“Oh but it is,” House says with an exaggerated smirk, leaning back in his chair. “Talk about a HR violation,”

—

The next few days pass in a blur of awkward silences, quick glances, and sidelong looks between you and Chase. Neither of you brings up the supply closet, not once. Instead, you focus on the case, on everything but what happened behind closed doors.

The chemistry between you both is still there, still undeniable, but now it’s wrapped in layers of unspoken words. It’s the elephant in the room you both avoid acknowledging.

And yet, as you work together—closer than ever before, eyes meeting more often than they should, the energy still humming between you—you both know something has shifted. You’re not sure what it is yet.

At one point, when House pushes you to continue working late on a particularly difficult diagnosis, you end up alone with Chase again. The tension between you both feels just as charged as it did that night in the supply closet, but now, it’s thicker. More complex.

Chase stands next to you, looking down at the patient’s chart, but you can feel his gaze flicking toward you, gauging your reaction. His voice is quieter this time, as though testing the waters. “So…”

“So,” you reply, keeping your voice steady, but there’s a nervous edge beneath it.

He sighs, clearly sensing the unease between you. “What do you think? Is this it then?”

You hesitate, the words sitting heavily in your chest. This is the question. What happens now? What happens when the game is over?

You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the flutter of uncertainty in your stomach. “I don’t think it’s just a game anymore, Chase,”

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the silence stretches between you both. He doesn’t say anything immediately, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression—a mix of hope, uncertainty, and that ever-present challenge.

And in that moment, you realise: neither of you has to have the answer right now.

“You’re right,” he says softly, his lips curling into a smile. “Maybe it’s not,”

And so, the game continues—only now, it’s not a game at all. It’s something else entirely, something neither of you is ready to define yet.

But that’s okay.

#house md #robert chase #robert chase x reader #house md x reader #robert chase smut

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dreamauri · 19 days ago

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♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part eight max verstappen x reader ( angst ) series summary . . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.

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You don’t cry when you land back in Paris.

Not when the plane lands, not when you pick up your bag. Not even when the driver asks, “Back home from holiday?” and you murmur “Something like that,” even though your heart has never felt further from vacation.

But the second you unlock your front door and silence swells up to greet you like an old friend—you fold. Quietly, like laundry. Like you’ve done it before.

The apartment is still. Your plants have grown. The coffee mugs are still stacked from the morning you left. The little “see you later” note you wrote for yourself on the fridge—mocking. You thought you were coming back the same.

You aren’t.

And you can’t breathe around the weight of it.

Because now you know that the voice who once said, “Get some sleep, La,”

—was the same voice who whispered your name behind the McLaren motorhome.

And the boy who made you playlists and sent you meme emojis and talked about nothing for hours to make you laugh…

—was Max fucking Verstappen.

You ignore it all.

So you do what you’re supposed to.

You plug in your work laptop.

You tell your coworkers that Austria was “chaotic but productive.”

You ignore your sim rig in the corner of the living room, unplug it for good.

You mute the Discord server.

You pour yourself into Cisco meetings and errands and microwave dinners. You watch movies you used to laugh through with him in your headphones.

You pick up your phone at 1 a.m., you click the DM chat out of impulse. The typing bar mocks you. Blinking. Waiting.

You type three words:

I miss you.

And then you hit backspace so fast you nearly sprain your heart.

You delete it.

Because who even are you talking to?

Amilian?

Max?

Yourself?

You shut your laptop. Throw your phone to the other end of the bed.

You sleep on the wrong side.

You dream of Red Bull shirts and unread messages.

A week later, you catch a Formula 1 race by accident. You’re not trying to watch. It just… finds you.

Monza. Dry weather. Verstappen in P2.

The commentators praise his drive. Say something about how he played the long game. Tire management. Smart calls.

You watch him take the podium. He stands a little off-center, Red Bull cap low over his eyes. Carlos is beside him. Lando too. They’re smiling.

Max isn’t.

Not really.

He claps, lifts the trophy. Does the usual. But it’s all automatic. Mechanical. Like a ghost of someone who used to care. He doesn’t look at the camera once.

And you can’t stop staring.

Not because he’s Max Verstappen. But because he’s him. The him you stayed up with. Laughed with. Sang dumb songs with in voice chat.

He’s there. Right there. On every screen.

And Amilian?

He’s gone. He was never real. A vapor. A half-truth spun into warmth.

You sit on your couch long after the race ends. The screen fades to black.

And somewhere deep in your chest, something aches in a shape you can’t name.

Amilian’s gone. Max is everywhere.And you don’t know which one you’re mourning.

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greenplumbboblover · 6 months ago

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[WIP]: Lyralei's Pose Player Addon Fixes!

All credit for the original Pose Player Addon goes to VirtualArtisan/Misukisu! This mod is simply an enhancement to their amazing work, building on the foundation they created.

Ages ago, @nocturnalazure sparked a discussion about Pose Player Addon. While the current changes may not fully align with her original ideas, I wanted to share what I’ve been working on so far! 😊

Side Note: Noctie,when I first wrote that, I didn’t actually have a Sim I wanted to pose like that yet, but lately I've been trying to and it's SO FRUSTRATING! Argh! :p . So rest assured, I’m definitely looking into adding this feature now!

Current Features

It will now remember what poses your sim has done this gameplay session! This way, you can re-pose them into a pose they did 5 poses before the current one.

Poses Are Now Automatically Sorted!

We all know how looooooong it can take when loading all the poses from pose list. So, what I've added, is the additional option to only show poses based off it's category!

🔧How it works under the hood:

If you’re familiar with XML, you’ll pick this up in no time!

Each category (let’s use Emotion as an example) is associated with specific keywords. For instance, the Emotion category might include subcategories like Happiness, Sadness, Anger, etc.

Here’s what the XML for Happiness looks like:

<keyword_emotion> <name_category>Happiness</name_category> <keywords>happy, happiness, smile, smiled, smiling, laugh, laughed, laughing, jump, jumped, jumping, cheer, cheered, cheering, clap, clapped, clapping</keywords> </keyword_emotion>

As shown in the (highlighted in blue) keywords line, I’ve added a list of terms. These keywords help determine whether a pose belongs to the Happiness category. The script scans all installed poses and checks if their name, description, or pose key matches any of these keywords.

Of course, I’m still fine-tuning this feature, as some keywords (like jump) can have different meanings depending on the context.

But without further ado, here it is in picture form!

Ignore the weapon poses, I still need to debug why that's being added, but overall, in this case, it's got "shyness" poses! :)

And the best part?

You can create your own custom categories, and the script will automatically detect them! 🎉

I’m currently working on some default categories for those who prefer a plug-and-play solution or don’t feel comfortable diving into the technical side of things. But if you enjoy customizing your workflow, the flexibility is all yours! 😊

What I'm adding before release:

Adding the option to seamlessly use both “look at” and “facial expression” together.

Adding the option to see the categorized lists, but for non-pose list poses.

Adding an in-game Category maker, so you don't have to edit the XML. It will mean you need to replace the XML file in S3PE yourself. But I can always make a quick How-To for guidance 😉

A better "look at" system. TS3 actually comes with a system where the sim can "look" at something by turning multiple sections of their bodies. Here's the full list: Torso ,Head, Eye. Currently Pose addon only allows Eyes to look at things.

Merge two poses together. This way you can use one pose that's specifically made for facial expressions, while the rest is handled by, say, that sitting pose you want to use!

... And of course anything else that sounds like a good idea by other pose player users! 😉

#pose player #pose #poses #the sims 3 #ts3 #the sims #sims #sims 3 #sims 3 story #ts3 simblr #wip #ts3 wip #sims 3 wip

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orangepeelknives · 4 days ago

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feel like in my last post it was All About Mack. let me be verrrrry clear here that where i think mack is a lottttt more obviously Fucked Up, will smith hockey is also not Normal, because a Normal person would nawttt be laughing off the punching of a windshield like a silly lil joke.

okay so okay let’s crack will smith open like a little fortune cookie of buried emotional responsibility. cause yeah, he’s chill. yeah, he’s confident. yeah, he’s a golden retriever in a backwards hat. but he is also chronically, deeply, expertly trained in the art of putting his own shit aside to keep the peace and keep people happy, and it shows.

let’s start with the family dynamics, cause that’s where this started. will was raised by a Boy Mom in a loud, loving, over-involved house where feelings weren’t ignored, but they were managed. you didn’t sulk, you didn’t explode, you kept it moving. you made it fun. you kept the vibes good. will was the glue. the golden boy. the one who doesn’t cause trouble. the one who soothes it. that’s what he brings with him everywhere: a pre-loaded script of how to keep the energy easy.

so yeah, will is secure. he’s kind. he’s loved. but he’s also exhausted. he’s been doing silent emotional labor since he was a kid. being the mascot. the morale guy. the one who’s always fine. and that’s whyit’s so hard for people to notice when he’s not fine, because he’s just so fucking good at pretending he is. enter, every single time post loss, it's will doing the comforting, will clapping guys on the back, will being summoned to mack's side, will dragging mack out of the rink and taking him home and feeding him milk and cookies and corralling him onto a flight to boston the next day, will accepting being the butt of most of the teasing, will dragging leno off the ice after losing.

enter: mack.

mack is the first person who needs will in the most primal, obvious, inescapable way. it’s not subtle. it’s not masked. will knows he’s the first call, the emergency contact, the comfort object, the human emotional support dog. and in my opinion he loves that. he lives for it. but… it also deepens the pressure. because if will is not okay? mack won’t be okay either. and will knows that. so when he’s hurting? when he’s homesick or anxious or spiraling or having a shitty game? he still has to perform calmness. he still has to laugh it off. he still has to do that little tight-jawed exhale and say “nah i’m good” because mack can’t take it if he’s not.

even the will x leno history plays into this, there’s something very poignant about the fact that leno needed him too. and from what we can tell, leno fucked up and will is the one who pulled away first.maybe because he could feel the weight of someone else needing him that hard, and maybe for once, he needed to be the one who got chosen? he needed ease. he needed someone to lean on. and mack? despite being a disaster? gives him that. not always emotionally, but in other ways, the routines, the affection, the automatic closeness. will never has to ask mack to show up. mack is already there. literally 24/7. actually mack is unshakable.

back to the windshield of it all: a normal person doesn’t laugh off the shattering of a windshield like it’s a silly prank from your wacky, feral little freak friend. a normal person doesn’t look at an act of genuine property destruction born from rage and go, “aw, buddy.” but will smith hockey does. every time. and that says just as much about him as it does about mack.

because here’s the thing: will doesn’t just brush it off. he normalizes it. smooths it out. laughs in the exact right tone so that mack won’t spiral into shame. gives him the easy out. “don’t worry about it.” “you good, dude?” milk and cookies at home. like nothing happened. like mack didn’t just blow through a physical boundary without blinking.

and why?? how is that not setting off alarms?

because will doesn’t know how to have boundaries. he knows how to be accommodating. he knows how to de-escalate. he knows how to keep the peace, keep the mood right, keep the vibe light. but no one ever modeled for him how to say: hey. that hurt me. that scared me. you crossed a line. think about what we know about the USNTDP of it all. changing in the hallways??? being schooled online so that your whole world narrows down to hockey and the people who play it???

then it’s college, and he brings the same boys with him. makes it feel safe. familiar.

and then san jose. grown men. wives. babies. mortgages. they go home after practice. they have lives. they’re kind to him, sure, but they don’t orbit him the way his old teammates did. they don’t need him like that. they’re not waiting for him on the couch with mario kart and dumb snacks. they’re not texting him at 2am cause they’re freaking out over ice time.

yet again, enter: mack.

mack, who has no off switch. mack, who is so volatile it’s intimate. mack, who relies on will like it’s a biological function. who doesn’t hide when he needs something. who crawls into will’s space and stays. and for will? that is a relief. not a burden. a gift.

because mack is the only person in will’s life who keeps him looped in at all times. no drifting. no separation. no independence. it’s obsessive, chaotic, needy, and will eats it up. because it means he still matters. it means there’s still one person who wants him there constantly, who still texts him from ten feet away, who still waits to eat until will sits down, who loses his mind when will’s focus shifts even slightly.

that’s home. that’s what will knows. boundarylessness is familiar. it’s where he learned to thrive. and in a locker room full of adults with healthy relationships and time-blocked therapy appointments and children, mack is the only one who feels like his world used to feel. close. urgent. codependent.

so yeah, will needs mack right back. maybe not for emotional caretaking in the same obvious way. but for belonging. for rhythm. for closeness that doesn’t require effort. and that’s why he doesn’t flinch when the windshield breaks. that’s why he doesn’t draw lines when mack spirals.

#straight from the character notes part dos #like are u seeing my vision are u seeing it #puttin that psych minor to USE #do i think that mack is probably slightly more reliant on will? yeah. but will is also EXTREMELY reliant on mack make nooo mistake #will's whole life is way-too-intimate friendships do u know how hard it is to fill that space with something different #willmack #macklin celebrini #will smith hockey

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illyrian-dreamer · 2 years ago

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Spin the bottle

Jealous Azriel x Reader. Angst/fluff (the usuaaallll)

Summary: A drunken game of spin the bottle with the rest of the IC makes Azriel a grumpy boy. (But it’s actually pretty romantic).

Word count: 2.1k

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This was stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

You looked up from where the bottle had finally stopped spinning. Flecks of red wine having splattered on the floorboards from what little remained in the deep green bottle, it’s long neck now pointed directly at your High Lord.

It was the eighth bottle of the night, or perhaps the ninth? It hardly mattered, you and your friends were stupidly drunk, so much so that when Cassian had suggested a childish game of spin the bottle with a wiggle of his eyebrows, you had snorted and excitedly agreed.

It had taken a variation of tactics to get the rest of the Inner Circle to play along.

Feyre had giggled, whispering something to her mate who merely winked back at her as they both took a place by the fire.

Mor had clapped in delight, poking fun at Amren who clung to Varian, but when her partner agreed, so had she.

Nesta rolled her eyes at Cassian, but a smirk was set at her lips as he hauled her over his shoulder to the circle that was beginning to form. Even Elain hadn’t given much fight, blushing as she shrugged “If it’s only a kiss.” You had pecked her hands and gave a squeal of delight, pulling her to sit by your side.

That only left the amused, yet still brooding Shadowsinger.

Azriel kept his arms crossed, shaking his head with a stubborn smirk as each of you tried your own way to convince him to play, Some begged, some insulted, and some bargained with unfulfillable promise – all of which rendered useless against the Spymaster.

He leaned against the arm of the chase, dark hair falling in front of his honey-brown eyes. Despite his stubborn front, his wings were slouched and relaxed, Azriel’s tell-sign he was just as tipsy as the rest of you.

“C’mon Az,” you drawled, uncaring that you spoke with a slight slur. “You’ll be the only one not playing.” Dark shadows began to curl in your lap.

Azriel smiled tightly. “You’re all drunk.”

“Oh, and you’re not?”

Calling the shadows back from the distance they had gained towards you, Azriel’s eyes narrowed on you playfully. His smile grew, yet he remained unmoved.

“Leave him be,” Cassian spoke, a hand covering one side of his mouth as if to tell you a secret, but with a volume high enough to ensure everyone would hear. “He’s just brooding because he lost the snowball fight yesterday.”

Azriel stiffened immediately, and spoke with lethal cool. “I did not lose.”

Rhysand grinned, chiming in. “You certainly did.”

“I only lost to a pair of cheats. You’re not supposed to work as a team.”

“Why not give me a big smooch and prove you’re not a loser at this game too, then?” Cassian boasted, arms wide and beckoning, his lips comically puckered.

The rest of you howled in unison, tears forming in your own eyes as you wiped them away. Azriel finally took a place in between you and Feyre, and as far away from Cassian as he could get.

The rules were simple – spin the bottle and kiss whoever it pointed at. If the bottle was to land on a relative, it would automatically direct to the first on their right.

And so the game began. Cassian declared the first round his, the bottle landing swiftly on Varian who merely chuckled. Cassian had grabbed both sides of his face, planting an enthusiastic kiss on his mouth that sounded with a smack of his lips.

“Mmm, tastes like blood,” he teased at Amren, who merely scowled back. The rest of you were in hysterics, and you had to clutch at your stomach to stop it from hurting.

Mor was up next, the bottle reeling to a quick stop on Elain. The kiss was swift, but gentle, and had Elain thanking her with an shy giggle. Mor winked back at the blushing Archeron before returning to her spot.

Feyre had spun the bottle enthusiastically, and tipped her head back and laughed when it landed directly on her mate.

“C’mere darling,” he said smoothly, moving to dip her head back and plant a sensual kiss on her neck before slipping his tongue into her mouth. The group whooped and cheered, before Nesta declared she was to be sick and the couple finally broke their kiss.

Azriel was up next, and Cassian had roared with a cheer as the bottle landed in his direction. ‘Come here big guy!” Azriel had let him kiss him for all of two seconds, and kept a firm hand planted on his brother’s chest to ensure some distance was kept. You were sure you had never laughed harder in your life.

And so it was your turn. You were yet to be kissed, and felt a silly flutter of nerves as you crawled towards the bottle. It slowed to a stop. It’s long neck pointed directly at your High Lord.

“Well well,” Rhys mused, his violet eyes sparkling as a feline grin grew. “Try not to be too jealous, Feyre darling,” he winked at his mate. Feyre laughed, raising her hands in surrender. “I’m only glad it’s not Cassian,” she joked, earning a shove from the General.

Rhys was crouched in front of you now, his face relaxed yet playful. There was no denying his handsomeness – you certainly weren’t unhappy to be kissing him.

Rhys reached to cup your face, and as his long fingers found where your jaw meets your neck, you heard a sharp breath being sucked in from beside you.

Flicking your eyes over to Azriel, you saw his brow pulled in fury, his body completely stiffened and shadows nowhere to be seen. You hadn’t a second to process before Rhys’s lips found yours in a gentle kiss.

A kiss that lasted a mere second, before a cold, harsh voice spoke.

“Stop that.”

You and Rhys both broke away from the kiss. His hands were still on your face as you looked up at Azriel who now stood towering over the two of you, wings spread and chest fuming.

You couldn’t help but gawk at his erratic behaviour. “Azriel, what–?”

“Let go of her.” Azriel was practically growling at his High Lord.

Rhysand didn’t question him, instead he dropped his hands from your face immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said with a hushed voice. “I had no idea.”

The rest of the circle fell silent, each of you stunned by the Shadowinger’s outburst.

With a final fume from his chest and flare of his nostrils, Azriel folded to a winnow, vanishing from the room entirely.

“Well that was unexpected,” Mor spoke with a pull of her brow.

“I’ll say,” Feyre added.

Bringing a hand to your lips, the sensation of Rhys’s lips on yours lingered, and twinge of guilt cast through your stomach.

“Any idea of where he went?” you asked quietly, no longer amused with the game’s antics.

“The Sidra,” Rhys answered shortly, offering you a sorry smile before casting a long look at his mate, an obvious sign of their mind-to-mind exchange.

————

Velaris was freezing this time of year, and even your layers of wool, scarves and a heavy coat couldn’t protect you from the icy bite that blew from over the cold of the river. You found Azriel at a docking pier, solemnly leaning against the railing as the water sloshed below the planks.

There was no sneaking up on the Spymaster, yet he continued to ignore you as you approached.

“Care to explain yourself?” you spoke from some distance, making your way closer to him. His wings twitched at your words and knuckles whitened at their clutch on the railing, but Azriel kept his gaze on the night’s horizon.

You folded his coat over the railing, a small sign for a truce you were unsure was needed. When Azriel left it untouched, you sighed, folding your arms. “Put the coat on, Az.”

Without turning his head, Azriel cast a sideways glance before pulling the large black coat over his arms and wings. He was already a large and broad male, but the coat refined him further. It was quite a handsome look on the Shadowsinger.

“What happened back there?” you poached again.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “You wanted him to kiss you.”

Frowning, you were quick to defend yourself. “Not necessarily.”

“You did. I heard your heart fasten. I scented your excitement.”

“It was a game Azriel, one we all agreed to play.”

“I didn’t want to.”

You rolled your eyes then. “Alright Az, I’m sorry we forced you–”

“I didn’t want to play because I can’t stand the thought of anyone else kissing you.”

You gawked at your friend. “Excuse me?”

Azriel had finally turned to face you, his eyes wild and swirling with gold, his frown deep and chest moving fast. You could hear his own heart then, beating far too fast.

“When Rhys looked at you like that, and touched you, and then h-he kissed you… Gods Y/N. You don't understand. It took everything I had to rip him off of you.”

You blinked at Azriel – never had he shown such vulnerability. “Is this an Illyrian thing?”

Azriel shook his head tightly, wild eyes still fixed on you, nostrils flaring yet again.

“Are you jealous?” you collected.

Azriel ignored your statement. “I ache to be the one to kiss you like that, Y/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat then, and you were forced to take a gulp of quick air. “Do you desire me, Azriel?” Something in your core throbbed at the thought.

“Tonight I realised it’s more than that. You have a certain…pull on me,” he said, moving to step closer. “Every time you’re in a room, I feel the need to be near you. And when you leave, something beyond my will begs for me to follow. I feel anxious when you’re away, and unfulfilled if I haven’t seen you or even scented you in hours.”

Your were deadly still, eyes wide as Azriel continued to move closer, drawing a breath through his nose, claiming the smell of you he so desperately needed. A deep hum sounded from him, before scarred hands moved to grasp either side of your arms.

“You have no idea how much control you have over me. You rule me Y/N, dictate my every move, just by simply existing.”

Guilt, confusion, passion and a small glint of hope overwhelmed you as his words sunk in. Could it be? Something so rare sparked by a ridiculous exchange of puppy-love? Your hands moved on their own accord, seeking his to hold. And when your cold fingers slid over his scarred ones, Azriel’s touch ignited a current of warmth through your veins, heating you from the inside out. Your own eyes widened to find his softened, earnest and pleading.

“I never meant to hurt you by kissing Rhys.” Your voice was a whisper.

“I know. Gods, of course I know that. I’m acting rash, I’m aware.” Azriel kept your hands in his, but looked down now, shaking his head. “Mother above, this is insanity!”

“It’s not insanity,” you said softly, stepping closer and bringing a hand to cup his chiselled cheek. “It’s the mating bond.”

Azriel froze then, his eyes locked on yours. “You feel it too?”

“I do now,” you said with a faint smile.

Azriel brow pulled in painful relief. “I heard it snap the moment Rhys’s lips found yours,” he admitted.

You cringed at the thought. “Gods, what an awful way to find out.” You pulled him closer to you, instincts igniting as your body begged to be closer to him, pressed against him bare if you could. “I’m sorry.”

Azriel was silent as he moved to entwine himself with you, strong arms encompassing you, protecting you. For a moment you held each other, savouring the feel of a perfect fit, two pieces of a puzzle having finally interlocked. Your kept your check pressed to his chest, listening to his heartbeat that was now a melody to your ears.

Looking up, you trembled in awe of his beauty, gingerly stroking his cheek before rubbing your thumb gently over his bottom lip. A deep sound left his chest then, and it thrilled you – you were tuning him with your touch.

“Be mine?” he asked, biting back his own urges as you leaned on your toes, reaching closer to his face.

“Only yours,” you whispered before pressing your lips against his, indulging in the euphoric sensation of the eternal tether binding you to your mate.

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A/N: Look, I truly believe not all fics have to end with a mating bond. But this one does, ok? Hope you enjoyed, thank you to @aroseinvelaris for the request!!

Also did you spot the slightest Mor x Elain crackship?? If you blink you might have missed it.... but I got excited lol.

Thanks always for reading! MWA

#azriel acotar #jealous azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel mate #azriel jealous #azriel x you #inner circle fluff #inner circle x reader #acotar fluff #acotar fan fiction #acotar one shot #rhysand x reader #azriel mating bond #sarah j maas #acotar fanfic #acotar spin the bottle

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wonwoosthetic · 1 year ago

Note

Helllooo! Could we please get a nana tour update? 🤍

a/n: I know this update took longer than expected! I‘m trying to get the episodes out now quicker but writing TV programs takes quite a while so excuse it if it takes a bit longer😅🫶🏼 it also doesn’t help that I can’t hold myself back from writing long ass chapters haha; but anyways, I hope you enjoy it🥰🥰

series masterlist

word count – 11.1k

warnings – none ˙ᵕ˙

Go Together NANA Tour EP3-1. - EP3-2. 🌷 Minnie

italics is always just bonus content for you guys and wouldn’t be seen on camera ˙ᵕ˙

EP3-1. Silent Screams Part 2

"Okay!" Na PD exclaimed, "Minnie, next."

Sitting between Vernon and Dokyeom, the trio was whispering to each other, chuckling at whatever they seemed to find funny.

Mingyu, Jeonghan, Vernon and Joshua had chosen their dream activities for the following day, leaving Minnie to choose now. There were three more spots for the hot air balloon tour, one free seat in the car to Florence and five people were still able to enjoy the wine tour just down the hill.

"What are you going to do?" The producer nagged.

With a mischievous smile, she glanced at Vernon, who was already grinning at her, nodding his head. She turned back to the producing team in front of them before answering,

"I'll take Florence, please."

The two oldest, along with the '98 Liner, erupted in cheers, stepping closer to her to reach out and shake her hand while the young rapper bopped his head in clear excitement.

"Woah...," Hoshi gasped out loud. The rest of the group gazed around perplexed. "I thought you would choose the wine tour."

"Same," Dino agreed with the sub-unit's leader. The other members nodded in agreement, glancing at the small group that had formed around the ones sitting on the kitchen counter.

"Then," the producer announced, "Florence is completely sold out!" Another round of clapping and cheers filled the room.

"You didn't want the hot air balloon?" Joshua leaned back to smirk at the female member, who looked at him in shock.

"Are you insane?!" She chuckled, "Between possibly falling from like ten thousand feet in the air or visiting a pretty old city, I think I'd prefer the latter. Thank you." The older member smiled, patting her dangling leg before turning back around.

Vernon scoffed, "I don't think it's ten thousand, to be honest."

Minnie just rolled her eyes and shook her head. "It's too high. Period."

Seungkwan and Minghao surprisingly chose the hot air balloon tour with pure excitement, surprising the female member as she thought her fellow '97 Liner would enjoy a comfortable day in the city.

"There's only one spot for the hot air balloon, right?" Wonwoo asked into the round, sitting up in the chair he had occupied.

Yeongseok nodded. "There's one spot for the hot air balloon. And with the wine tour...," his change of tone got a laugh from the rest of his team. "The people that are left are automatically going there!"

"Isn't it a punishment for Soonyoung to go on a wine tour?" Seungkwan wondered with an entertained grin.

With his hands intertwined, Hoshi had sunken in his posture, a painful smile decorating his face as he thought to himself. Minnie noticed the lack of reaction coming from the leader.

"Aww," a sympathetic chuckle left her lips as she leaned forward, patting his shoulders, hoping to somewhat comfort him.

The producer of the group, along with the maknae were able to pick next, thanks to their high score in the game they had just finished playing. Woozi opted for the hot air balloon, even after asking Dino for his preference, ripping the dream right out of the youngest's heart.

His decision made the room filled with whole-hearted laughter and fingers pointing at the maknae as he stood still, showing no reaction.

"He's not even interested and still chose the hot air balloon!" Jeonghan giggled out loud.

Minnie dared to take a glance at Dino, pushing herself off the counter to walk over to him. Not able to hide the amusement on her face, she wrapped an arm around his frame, patting his back as she into his side.

"Look at his face!" Mingyu called out, pointing directly at the member left standing.

The girl looked up, her hand immediately reaching to pat the top of his hair with a chuckle.

"Don't be mean to him," she mumbled with a pout, her other arm snaking around his front to give him a quick squeeze.

Even the producing team was clearly amused and in awe of the '99 Liner.

Na PD laughed at his reaction, "I think he's really angry." Making Dino respond quickly,

"No, no, no," he brushed off. "No, no, no. Disappointment!" His palm touched the left side of his chest, "Only my disappointment is strong." Minnie shook her head with another chuckle, running a hand up and down his arm before she got back to her place between Dokyeom and Vernon.

After the groups for the following day were officially decided, the idols were dismissed. Each of them made their way out of the kitchen to walk back up the stairs to the main floor of the house. Some went straight into their designated rooms while others decided to chill in the main living space.

"Ah, guys... I'm so jealous," Hoshi sighed out loud. His disappointment was clear in his voice.

His statement got a loud chuckle out of Vernon as Woozi wondered,

"Why?" Within a second, it hit him. "Ah, because of the hot air balloon," followed by a good laugh from the producer.

Minnie and Jun stopped one of the carton boxes they had brought in, filled with the stuff they had gotten in the grocery store a few hours before.

"Yeah, jealous," the '96 Liner chuckled to himself. The girl's eyebrows scrunched up,

"You're jealous too?"

The older member turned his head towards her, "Aren't you?" To which she just shook her head wide-eyed, getting a giggle from him in return.

"I think I might become jealous of you guys tomorrow," she admitted. Her hands reached into the box, grabbing the underwear and socks she had gotten for herself.

Jun tilted his head, "You wanted to choose the vineyard?"

Minnie shrugged. "It sounds fun. Getting to drink as much wine as you'd want."

"Why didn't you choose it then?"

"I don't know if I could start drinking that much in the middle of the day."

Her fellow unit member scoffed, "As if you haven't done that before!" Smiling at the reaction of the girl as she looked at him with an open mouth.

"But not that much!" In the next second, Minnie's clean socks smacked across his upper arm. "Don't make it sound so bad!", getting another chuckle from him. She was quick to join in too, shaking her head along with it.

"I think you'll have fun."

Jun nodded, "I think so too."

Just as she was about to leave to find her room again, she pointed a strict finger at the dancer. "But don't drink too much," squinting her eyes at him.

"You should say that to Hoshi," the '96 Liner smiled at her, passing her as he walked straight ahead.

"Oh my God...," she quietly gasped, mumbling to herself.

Minnie had gotten comfortable in her room, thinking about whether to shower or brush her teeth first, when a loud voice rang through the entire floor of the house.

"Who's doing the laundry?" Seungkwan wondered out loud. The girl's ears perked up, making her push herself up from the bed and rush over to the doorway.

"Are you washing your clothes?" But before the younger member could answer her, Mingyu beat him to it.

"Let's do it together if the members do it," he called out from his room on the opposite side.

"But where do we do it?" Seungkwan asked, looking around the room before turning back around to go back to the other end of the house.

Minnie retreated back, gathering the minimal clothing she had brought to the country, along with the underwear she had bought and the shirt she had gotten in one of the small shops in the city.

Right as she went back out again, her eyes found a small group of the guys walking in a straight line right behind Vernon, heading towards the stairs.

"Are you doing the laundry now?" She called out, making the '98 Liner stop in his tracks. His hand was holding onto the metal railing as he was just about to take a step downstairs.

He glanced up. "Yeah, you wanna do it too?" To which he got a nod from her in response. Vernon nudged his head towards the lower floor, "Come downstairs."

"Alright," she let him know, stepping out of her room to follow him, but not before stopping by the room directly across from hers. "Mingyu," the sound of her voice made the '97 Liner peek his head out of the attached bathroom. "Should I take your clothes downstairs?"

"They're washing them now?" He wondered, making her nod her head in return. With a big step out, he reached out to grab the bag off the chair in the corner, handing it over to the girl in silence. It was only then, he showed off his naked torso as his shirt was ready for the laundry run.

Just as she wanted to head back out, his voice made her stop.

"Who are you in a room with?" He asked her.

"Wonwoo." They talked about everything and anything during dinner, yet this didn't even come up once.

"Hm." Mingyu nodded quietly, opting for a hum to be his final answer. His silence got a giggle out of the girl, making her take a few steps forward to get closer to him as he was already back in the bathroom.

"Jealous?" She eyed him through the mirror, leaning on the doorframe as a sneaky grin spread on her lips. Her teasing made the '97 Liner turn around, his hand coming up quickly as he tried to get a hold of her arm, but she swiftly moved out of the way, stumbling slightly as she walked backwards.

Her laughter echoed through the house as she jogged towards the stairs.

Back in their shared room, the female member was lying on the bed, her phone in her hands as she was texting her mum about another passed day in Italy.

"Where's shampoo and body wash?" Wonwoo called out from the bathroom to her right.

She directed her sight from the bright screen over to the open door. "Isn't it in the shower?"

The rapper came out of the room, shaking his head as he glanced around, trying to see if they had placed it somewhere else.

"Are you sure?" She scooted off the bed to head into the bathroom, taking a quick peek before she came back with a frown, "But I remember putting it there. We got enough in the supermarket."

"Someone probably took it," Wonwoo explained while heading out.

With a soft sigh, the girl exited the room as well, crossing the entryway to walk into the shared bedroom on the other side. Her eyes immediately fell on Dino, who was relaxing on the mattress.

"Did you guys take the shampoo and body wash?"

The maknae glanced up at the female member. "We had it, but Seungkwan took it."

"What?" Mingyu asked as he came back, wondering what the two were talking about.

"Did you take the shower gel and shampoo from our shower?" Only getting a shake of his head in return.

Minnie was about to pass her fellow '97 Liner to continue the questionnaire when Mingyu added,

"But Jun had some earlier."

"Where did he get it from?" She wondered, but the other guys in the room just shrugged, "I thought we bought enough..." she mumbled as she went back out, only to find Wonwoo already meeting her halfway. In his grip, were three different bottles of what seemed to be toiletries.

"I got it," he let her know as they walked into their room again. "Body wash, shower gel and conditioner." Knowing they were only looking for the first two things, but since Minnie would have to take more care of her longer hair, conditioner was essential.

The thoughtful act brought a soft smile to her lips. "From who?"

"Seungkwan," he simply told her, bringing everything he had gotten to their shared bathroom.

Both of them washed up one after the other, with Wonwoo going first and Minnie last. While the girl was taking care of her long mane in the bathroom, Wonwoo found a few of the guys in the backyard of the house. They had gathered around one of the tables on the terrace, all of them sitting in comfortable silence, sharing a piece of thought every now and then. He joined them for a few minutes, exchanging some thoughts about the countryside of Italy and the clear sky they were blessed with that night, before they all headed into their individual rooms, wishing each other a good night.

The moment he entered the shared room, Minnie chuckled as she came out of the bathroom, "You know what I realised?" getting a hum from the rapper in return as he claimed the side of the bed closer to the door leading into the entryway. "You're gonna spend an entire day with a drunk Hoshi." The girl was still occupied with brushing through her somewhat dry hair, thanks to the blow dryer while Wonwoo was getting comfortable underneath the duvet.

Just as quick as he lifted his head, he let it fall again with a soft sigh, getting another giggle from the female member.

"You'll have to take care of him."

Not only both of them, but every other member knew the drastic change in personality that came with a drunk Kwon Soonyoung. He could go from laughing to crying within a mere split second. If you think you know where he is and what he might be doing, check in on him a minute later, and he'll suddenly be on the other side of town or rolling on the ground for no apparent reason.

"Why me?" His eyes followed her movements as she got closer to the bed, settling down on it with one knee. "I'll let the others do that. Who's coming again?"

The girl stayed quiet for a moment, puckering her lips as she thought. "Ehm... you, Hoshi... Jun, Dino, and... Dokyeom."

With a groan, Wonwoo hid his face behind his hands, making the girl laugh out loud and smack his leg underneath the covers. "I'm just gonna drink a lot too," he commented.

"Really?" Minnie pulled the other leg in as well, getting into a comfortable sitting position, and looking at the man next to her with a surprised expression.

"If I already have to do a wine tour, might as well," he shrugged. "I was surprised you didn't choose it."

"Jun said that too," she straightened her back. "But... I can drink here with you guys too. So whether that's in a vineyard or here doesn't change much for me."

"Probably better," Wonwoo admitted, "I don't know if I could take care of Hoshi and you."

Minnie gasped, "Taking care of me?! I'm not that bad when I'm drunk!"

"You get really emotional, you know that," the '96 Liner chuckled at her reaction, reaching out to take her hand in his grasp.

"Yeah, but like... loving emotional. Hoshi is... a rollercoaster." Wonwoo joined her giggles, remembering the evenings spent together drinking with the rest of the members and playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who would make sure Hoshi got home safe.

Crawling across the mattress, Minnie got herself comfortable on the other side of the bed, sliding right underneath the covers.

"Who are you going to Florence with?" The rapper changed the topic.

"Vernonnie, Shua, and Jeonghan," she simply answered getting a grunt from the rapper in return.

"You're gonna have an easy time."

Minnie chuckled, "Yeah, but you're gonna have a lot to tell afterwards."

"Maybe," Wonwoo smiled to himself, already dreading the following day. "It'll be interesting."

The female member nodded in agreement. "Always drink responsibly."

"Of course."

EP3-2. The optional tour day

The shrill sound of a phone alarm blasted through the shared room of the young couple. Groaning sounds came from the bed as Minnie tried to detangle herself from their intertwined legs underneath the shared blanket. She had a tight grip around the man's arm but had to let go to reach the nightstand and turn off the alarm. The room was basically completely dark, with only a faint ray of sunshine coming in, barely lighting up the space.

"What's going on?" Wonwoo's deep voice made Minnie look behind her as she sat up on the bed.

"Sorry," she whispered, "I forgot to turn it down." Explaining why the ringing sound could've woken up the entire floor with the volume it was set on.

He pushed himself up, rubbing his eyes as he tried to get them to focus in the dark. Minnie was already moving around the room, heading towards the window right in front of the bed first, pulling the curtains to the side to let the sunlight in. Her action got a loud groan from the rapper on the bed, making her chuckle,

"Sorry." He let himself fall back on the mattress with a huff while the girl stretched out her arms, covering her mouth with her hand as a yawn escaped her.

"Are you leaving now?"

"Not yet," she told him, "It's 9am. We're leaving at 10, I think."

In the shorts, they had gotten from Na PD after winning the game they played during their first night in Italy and the NANA tour zip-up sweater, along with a sports bra she had bought in the grocery store the day before, Minnie made her way downstairs into the kitchen. Right behind her was Wonwoo, wearing one of the Mona Lisa shirts they had bought while sightseeing along with the same sweat shorts.

Right as she came into the kitchen, the female singer glanced to her right, finding some of the producers already hurled up around a table, all enjoying their breakfast.

With a tired smile, she waved at them, followed by a "Good morning," from both members.

Turning around, they came to sight with a breakfast menu, set up just for them, prepared by a group of chefs that were still working in the kitchen.

"Oh!" Minnie's eyes went wide, "Thank you so much!" She grinned at the producer, who proudly smiled back at her. "We don't have to play games for this?" She teased them, getting a round of chuckles in return before one of them spoke up,

"Are you that suspicious?"

Minnie giggled. "I watched all episodes of 'Youth over Flowers'! I know what you used to make others do!" The producers joined her in whole-hearted laughter.

"But Minnie-ya," Hoshi suddenly spoke up as he joined them in the kitchen. "This is a different program. They're treating us here."

"I don't know yet..." she quietly joked with a grin, but still loud enough to let the others hear.

"What else do we have to do to make you trust us?!" One of the male producers called out desperately, making everyone around him start laughing, along with Minnie and Hoshi on the other side of the room.

The unit leader gave the girl a comforting pat on the head and one to Wonwoo's bottom as they switched their focus back on the breakfast items.

"We need to go drink some wine later," the rapper let a nervous chuckle fall from his lips.

"You should eat a lot now,“ Minnie advised them, “then you won't feel the alcohol too much.“ But Hoshi just let his head hang.

"I'm already scared," he admitted, making the girl laugh at him and place a hand on his upper arm.

"You just have to drink responsibly." To which he shook his head.

One after the other came in to grab their own variety of breakfast items while some had already gotten together to eat together. Minnie and Wonwoo decided to bring their plates upstairs, along with cups of tea in each of their grip. On their way, they walked past Dokyeom, who seemed to have just woken up, letting him know there was a menu waiting for him downstairs.

Outside, they sat down their plates and cups, before falling into the dark wicker chairs. For a second, the female dancer let her eyes fall shut, taking a deep breath in to enjoy the gentle morning breeze.

"Imagine waking up to this weather every day and just getting to eat your breakfast outside," she dreamily spoke.

"Must be nice." Wonwoo chuckled next to her, "But what about winter? Doesn't Italy get cold then too?"

"Well, that's when you'd go travel to Hawaii or Bali. They're warm all year around, I think."

"Just travelling all the time to go to warm places?" He laughed at her explanation while she seemed to just enjoy the moment. Minnie nodded excitedly, a big grin brightening up her face.

"But you like cold weather too," Wonwoo stated, reaching out to take a sip of the hot tea in his cup.

"I do," the girl shifted in her seat, "But right now I'm enjoying the warmth so much, that I want a lot of it."

Without another word, the girl got up from her chair, taking a few steps ahead to stop at the railing that held her from falling down the shallow slope that stopped at the bottom part of the garden, where the pool was. She got out her phone from the side pocket of the shorts, lifting it up to get a picture of the scenery in front of her. The Italian countryside was decorated by small hills, different colours in the grass, bright green blooming trees that grew on the side of the old streets, and different-coloured glowing flowers and bushes garnishing the gardens of the Italian-styled country houses.

"This is so beautiful," she mumbled under her breath, turning in circles, trying to somehow capture even just a bit of the beauty of nature she was surrounded by.

"Mum asked me for pictures," she explained, walking to the chairs again to get back into her seat. "Because I told her it looks a little bit like in France."

"Where your grandparents live,“ Wonwoo nodded, getting a hum in return.

During their shared breakfast, Jun came to join them, his own plate in his hands as he settled down on the other side of the table.

"Woah," he took a deep breath in and out, his eyes wandering around the garden, "it's so pretty."

"Right?" Minnie excitedly turned towards her fellow unit member. "It looks like a painting."

"Like we're living in a painting, yeah," Jun agreed, getting up from his seat to copy what the girl had done mere minutes ago and got his phone to snap a few good pictures of the scenery.

"I think I can stare at this all day long and space out. Because it's so pretty," Wonwoo commented before a complete silence could fall over the trio.

Minnie nodded. "I could get used to a view like that."

The rapper hummed in agreement, making her turn to glance at him, chuckling at what she came to sight with.

"What?" He asked about her sudden reaction.

With a grin, the girl reached out, her fingers brushing through the unruly set of hair on top of his head. "Your hair looks crazy." She glided her palm over the top, trying to straighten down some of the strands that had decided to stick out into different directions - and he let her.

"Noona!" The sound of the maknae's voice made her turn around, finding him sitting by a table behind them along with Hoshi. "When are you leaving?"

After a quick look at her phone screen, she answered him, "I think at 10. In like… twenty minutes."

Dino nodded. "Are you excited?"

She couldn't help but smile at the youngest. "Yeah," only to let her grin get even wider as soon as the next question popped into her head. "Are you excited?"

"Ah... noona...," he sighed, getting another loud giggle out of the girl. "I really don't think it's a good idea to let me drink."

"Nooo," she tried to calm him down, getting out of the chair with her plate in one hand and her now empty cup of tea in the other, "You shouldn't think like that. You're gonna have fun."

With a shake of his head, he got up, taking his plate with him as he joined her on the way back into the kitchen.

"I have to be really careful."

Back in her room, Minnie was looking around at the very few pieces of clothing she had to choose from, now spread out on the bed, along with Wonwoo, who had busied himself with his phone.

A sigh escaped her lips as she ran a hand through her hair. "I really don't have anything to wear for a trip like this." The '96 Liner didn't react to her complaint, only taking his eyes off his phone, the moment, she opened her mouth again. "What if I just leave like this?"

Looking into the mirror, she grinned to herself standing there in just her jeans the sports bra she had worn before.

"You can't leave like that," Wonwoo simply told her, focusing back on the screen in his hands.

"Says who?" Teasingly, she turned around, finding the eyes of the rapper already back on her form. With her arms crossed, she got closer to his side of the bed, another sigh of hers ringing through their ears. "I don't have anything else."

"You're not leaving in your underwear." He pushed himself up from the mattress. "Didn't you guys buy something yesterday?"

"Yeah, but I haven't washed that yet," she answered him, following him out of the room, where they suddenly met Joshua and Jeonghan already waiting for them in the entryway.

"Oh-," she came to a halt, "Are we leaving?"

"In a minute, yeah," the oldest turned around, frowning as soon as he saw her outfit, but Joshua bet him to speak up.

"Are you leaving like this?"

Minnie chuckled, "No, don't worry," before passing them to enter the room on the other side. Carefully, she opened the door, her suspicion being confirmed as soon as she found her fellow '97 Liner cuddled up in his bed. With quiet steps, she walked inside, making sure not to startle him as she tapped his arms,

"Mingyu," she whispered, trying to wake up the rapper. But he didn't budge. "Oppa," she tried to again, getting slightly closer.

A soft hum escaped Mingyu as he squirmed around, opening his eyes with a frown.

"What?" His groggy voice made her smile.

"Where's your cardigan? The one you wore on the plane."

The '97 Liner shifted on the bed, getting his arm out from underneath the blanket to point towards the chair in the corner of the room across from the bed.

Without another word, Minnie walked over, lifting up one of the pillows that was placed on top of it to find the thin piece of clothing she was looking for. She stopped in front of the mirror on the wall, throwing the cardigan over her frame to see what it would look like on her.

"Why do you need it?" Mingyu suddenly asked her, making her look at him through the mirror.

"I don't have anything to wear to Florence."

"Why don't you wear the white blouse you bought at the store?"

With a huff, she took the piece of fabric off again. "I haven't washed it yet," and placed it back on the chair.

"I did."

Minnie's head snapped towards him. "What?"

He turned his head just slightly, begrudgingly opening his eyes a bit to look at her. "It was in my pile of laundry."

"Oh, then it should be outside, right?" To which Mingyu just nodded.

With a wide grin, the girl got on her way to rush out of the room, "Thank youu," only to be stopped by the call of her name.

"Huh?"

A wave of his hand told her to come closer, which she did, getting surprised by the sudden grip on her hand. She had no time to react before she got pulled in, steadying herself on a free spot on the mattress with her hand, so her entire weight wouldn't fall on top of the rapper.

"Mingyu," her giggles filled the room as she held onto his arm that he tightened around her frame, pulling her in even closer. Her hand gave up trying to hold herself up, giving into the embrace as she tried to wriggle out of it. "I have to go," she whispered, knowing he could hear her clearly due to the proximity.

He was just about to turn with her in his arms, ready to pull her fully onto the bed when the door suddenly opened, exposing Dino coming in.

"Mingyu," she repeated with a chuckle, "Please."

"Nini!" Jeonghan called out, "We have to go!" Coming in, a laugh tumbled from his lips as soon as he came to sight of the two on the bed.

"I'm trying!" She desperately called out before she finally felt the grip around her loosen. A dramatic gasp of air left her mouth, getting a chuckle from the guys in the room.

"What are you doing?" She glanced over at the maknae, rummaging through something in the corner.

"You need money," he answered, turning towards her to hand her the amount he had picked out.

Jeonghan's chuckle made the attention shift words him while his eyes were fixed on the man in the bed.

"I thought you were sleeping," he grinned at Mingyu, taking a step forward to switch places with Minnie.

"I am," the rapper simply told him, shifting in his position to start snoring playfully.

Suddenly, the '95 Liner leaned down, placing a peck on the younger member's cheek, getting a round of chuckles from the people in the room.

"What are you doing?" Dino wondered as the oldest just smiled,

"He's pretty."

In a hurry, the girl quickly handed Jeonghan the money she had gotten from the maknae before finally making her way towards the door.

"I need to get dressed," she notified them before running down the hall and down the stairs, past the kitchen to head to the outdoor area where they had put up the clothes from the washing machine and left them to dry. She quickly found the white short-sleeved blouse Mingyu had mentioned, smiling to herself before grabbing her underwear and socks that seemed to be dry already too.

With big steps, she was upstairs again, jogging into her room to change in a hurry - and within a minute, she was back in the entrance area, now with a pair of sunglasses on top of her head.

"So you did wash it?" Wonwoo addressed the top she refused to wear only a few minutes ago. He looked up from the phone in his hands as he was still sitting on the small couch in front of the entrance door. Together with Dino, he was waiting to send the small group off.

Minnie shook her head, adjusting her jeans. "Mingyu threw it in his pile of clothes he wanted to wash. I didn't even know it was there."

"The top?" Vernon asked her, pointing at the white blouse, making her nod with a smile.

Only a second later, Jeonghan and Dino exited the shared bedroom, joining the rest of the Florence trip group.

"Everyone ready?" The oldest asked into the room, looking at each of the members to see them nod in return. "Okay, then let's go!"

"Have fun, guys!" The maknae stopped by the door, right behind him Wonwoo, who waved at the four leaving the premise. "Take good pictures!"

"We will!" Minnie called out as she turned around, sending a flying kiss towards the two men, who smiled back. Dino dramatically reached forward, proudly showing her the kiss he had caught, and sent her a final finger heart before they disappeared around the corner, leaving only Minnie's warm laughter to be heard.

Together, the four left the property, walking down the short private lane before they reached the main street, where a car was already waiting for them. Joshua and Jeonghan decided to sit in the middle row, leaving Minnie and Vernon to share the very back seats. As soon as the car started, all eyes were fixed on the windows. The passing countryside was too breathtakingly beautiful to miss by closing your eyes and trying to get a quick nap, which they would usually do.

In an almost dreamy haze, Shua admired everything he could catch as they passed by, speaking loud enough to get the attention of the other members in the car.

"Oh, it's so hot," he noted, getting the girl to nod in agreement.

"I hope I don't burn," she spoke up, half-jokingly, making the '95 Liner chuckle, while Jeonghan frowned.

"Are you wearing long jeans?" Genuine concern dropped from his lips as he turned his head to the side to direct his voice at her

The female member nodded before she realised he couldn't see her. "Yeah-"

"Why?!"

"I didn't want to wear the sweatshorts to Florence! And the jeans are the only other pants I have," she quickly defended herself as soon as she noticed his voice getting more whiny.

Jeonghan shook his head with an almost curse coming from him a mumble. "Tell me when you're getting too hot. We can buy other shorts."

"Okay, okay," she agreed, slightly brushing him off. Minnie knew he was coming from a good place, but she also remembered the multiple lectures she had gotten in the past from the older members about different topics. The possibility of a speech about taking care of oneself and not joking about potentially burning in long clothes while it had a good 35+ degrees Celsius outside was just around the corner.

"It's a hot vibe," Joshua suddenly threw in again.

Minnie nodded, "The perfect summer weather."

"Shua likes hot things." Jeonghan's out-of-pocket comment got a chuckle out of the girl, making him realise what he had just said, therefore quickly adding, "Because he lived in LA."

A look of amusement was shared between the two younger members in the backseat, holding in their laughter before continuing to sit by themselves, focusing back on the world right outside their windows.

A few more minutes into the drive, Joshua continued his commentary, keeping the car filled with conversations and chuckles. Vernon stayed quiet for most of the time, glancing over at the girl whenever she had something to say or show him and Jeonghan enjoyed Shua's liveliness, answering his remarks every now and then, keeping a contained smile on his face.

"The internet is so...," Joshua spoke again. "It being slow is kinda a vibe too." The three members in the car smiled at his gentle complaint, but Minnie added a roll of her eyes.

"You're spoiled from the fast internet in Seoul," she nagged at him, making him turn around with a surprised facial expression before he continued the discussion.

"You're just as spoiled," he warned her with a raise of his eyebrows.

The girl scoffed, "I'm not complaining because of the internet."

"He's not complaining," the other '95 Liner grinned, "He... he has a good vibe."

Joshua teasingly nodded at Minnie, agreeing with the oldest member quietly, while she couldn't help but shake her head with a smile.

"I learned that vibe from you," he said to Jeonghan. "Everything is a vibe."

The moment the streets of Florence opened up right in front of their eyes, the car filled with gasps and exclaims of admiration. For every shop, every building, every street lamp, and even each and every flower on the corners could an acrostic poem be made, and not even then would words be enough to describe the beauty of the tourist city.

"It's nice that Shua is so happy today," Jeonghan's comment made the girl look up. While his words were supposed to be endearing, his voice sounded anything but that. His unusually dull tone brought a frown to her face.

"Oh, I'm so happy that I'm here today," Joshua nodded with a smile.

"Jeonghannie-hyung doesn't sound like he's happy today," Minnie suddenly spoke up from behind them.

One of the female producers in the very front of the car agreed with her. "You seem like you're having a hard time compared to the first time in the car." Which made the '95 Liner just chuckle before he focused back on the view outside of the car.

After a good hour of complete silence from the left side of the car, Vernon jumped into the conversation. "He needs a new type of simulation." Commenting on Jeonghan's character trait of turning suspiciously quiet if a scene stayed too monotone for too long. He did enjoy the calm times every now and then, but especially long car rides were not his cup of tea.

"I need to walk around in the streets," he stated, describing his current state in more detail.

"We'll get to walk around a lot today," Minnie assured him, already fidgeting in her seat as she couldn't wait to finally get outside.

On his phone, Joshua found a food market in the heart of the city, knowing that a regular restaurant might not be enough for a good experience as Jeonghan was still dull next to him, even though he was slowly blooming up the more they drove into the centre.

Mercato Centrale seemed to have been the perfect decision as the moment they stepped foot out of the car, the oldest member was already smiling brightly at the sun directly hitting them. He made sure the backpack he had brought was secure on his right shoulder before he started to walk ahead, knowing the rest would follow him.

"Let's walk around the market once and around the outside too!" His exclaim brought a smile to the girl's face, happy about the change of mood as they were met with his usual bright persona again. They were quick to agree to his idea, Minnie and Joshua slightly behind the other two members in the front as they took their time looking around a bit more. With their go-pros propped up on a stick, the group made their way into the food court.

Starting off in the main area, they looked around the various restaurants lined up on the side, passing different stalls that prepared everything your heart could possibly desire - from fresh fruit bowls to pizza, grilled meat or pasta dishes.

"I think pizza would be really good," Joshua commented as they passed a specific food stall.

Minnie nodded. "If we're in Italy, pizza is always a good idea. You have to eat authentic food whenever you're in a specific country."

"That's right," Jeonghan said from where he had fallen behind her in line.

They passed one more place that seemed interesting to the four, a dumpling stall, yet in the end, all of them decided on the classic Italian cuisine.

"Let's go with pizza then," Vernon agreed as they made their way towards one of the many restaurants that offered them.

"Minnie!" Jeonghan's sudden call out of her name made her turn around as her eyes were locked on the other side of the food court, her eyes fixated on just how big the space actually was and yet how many people still managed to find spaces to sit and eat. "Is pizza okay?" He waited for her quick steps over to join the group again, excited nods making her hair bounce and him chuckle. With a soft push forward, he let her walk ahead while keeping close behind her.

"Fresh from the oven," Joshua read out one of the signs that hung above the stall they had stopped in front of. That sounded good.

"Oh, shiiit," Vernon commented, getting an immediate laugh from the girl, making him realise what he had just said. "Oh! I'm sorry," he quickly said into the camera he was holding before he felt a push to his back.

"You can't say that!" The girl admonished him.

The younger member whipped his head around to meet her eye, "I just said, I was sorry!" He whined out loud, only making her chuckle again. Only a moment later, they were greeted by a waitress, who let them know they could find a table on the second floor, right above them.

Their gazes glided over the area, finding more empty seats than downstairs.

"Let's sit all the way at the end!" Jeonghan called out, pointing towards a free table for four right by the railing that overlooked the entire lower floor. Another waitress came along to hand them four menu cards and left them some time to settle on what they would eat. Joshua asked into the round with the oldest telling the group to choose whatever they'd want - he had never been a picky eater. While Minnie and Vernon were still going through each page of the menu, Shua had already found something, immediately asking the others what they thought of it. They settled on a mozzarella mushroom pizza.

Thanks to his confidence, the '95 Liner was chosen to order for the table, telling the waitress what they had chosen when she reminded them that they should also look for something to drink.

"We also have Aperol Spritz," she proposed, making Minnie's head shoot up.

"Oh, yes yes yes!" She excitedly nodded, making the guys chuckle.

"Should we take Aperol Spritz too?" Joshua asked her, only making her bop her head.

"Trust me," she told him, "Yes." With a smile, the waitress took the menus back into her grasp, telling them she'd be back in a few minutes.

Once they were alone again, Vernon switched his attention towards the girl. "Is Aperol Spritz that good?"

Minnie's eyes widened the second those words left his lips, but then she remembered that he hadn't had an opportunity yet to try the alcohol mixture in Europe.

"Yep," she assured him. "It's a bit... bitter, depending on how you mix it, but if it's made well it's literally the best thing you could drink in the summer."

"Better than somaek?" Jeonghan joined the two, sending the girl a teasing grin, knowing how much she enjoyed the soju-beer mix.

"So much better than somaek," her remark made the oldest lean back in his chair with a gentle gasp.

"Woah," he huffed out, "the moment we're in Europe, Korean Minnie is gone." The entire table erupted in laughter while the female member looked at him in shock.

"What?!" She couldn't hold back joining in the holer.

"Her European side comes out more," Joshua explained. "That's true."

"You guys...," with a grin, she shook her head. She went to lift her head again, ready to continue the conversation, when the ring of her phone on the table cut her off. Snatching it off the surface, she turned it around, frowning as soon as she saw who was calling her.

"I'll be right back," excusing herself without another word and answering the call right as she stood up.

"Who called her?" Vernon shot a question at Joshua since he was sitting right next to the female member, but he just shrugged turning in his seat to follow her silhouette as she stood in a corner, covering one ear, so she could hear whoever was on the other end of the call better.

While Minnie was busy with her phone call, the Aperols they had ordered arrived. Jeonghan showed them off proudly to Dokyeom, who had called in that time, but the older member abruptly ended the call to go back to conversing with the table.

"I'm so interested in how it's going to taste," Shua commented, leaving Vernon and Jeonghan to nod in agreement.

"Should we wait for Minnie?" Jeonghan wondered, but the female member was already on her way back.

"Wait for me for what?" She asked but then her eyes found the glasses on the table, "Oh!" Making her slide back into the chair excitedly. She got a hold of her own, lifting up to make the others join her.

"Cheers," she started, which the other three copied, bringing their aperitifs into the middle to clank together before each took their first sip.

The moment the taste hit Minnie's lips, she groaned.

"Ah...," she sighed after gulping down, "I love it."

"Wow... it's really good," Shua agreed.

"It's like orange champagne, it's good," Vernon remarked. "What's in it?"

All eyes switched to Minnie as nobody else knew the answer.

"Aperol, Prosecco and sparkling water," she explained. "Some also put in a little bit of Orange juice, I think. But I don't know what the original recipe is like."

"And what is Aperol?" Shua now wondered.

"Like a liquor. I don't know exactly what's in it, but I think rhubarb and bitter orange and something else."

Vernon shrugged, "It's good." Making the others nod.

For a second, the four enjoyed a short moment of silence before the oldest spoke again, his nosiness getting the best of him.

"Who called you?" To which the others' ears perked up as well.

"Oh yeah," the '98 Liner mumbled, remembering he had wondered about it too.

Minnie chuckled, as she was just about to take another sip again, deciding to put the cocktail glass down first. "Hoshi‘s mum."

"Really?" Joshua's chuckles rang through her ear as she joined him, nodding her head.

"What did she want?" Jeonghan questioned her more, taking another gulp of his drink.

"Just asked how I was doing," Minnie shrugged. It was no rarity for her to get phone calls she declared as random in the past from the other members' parents. After a while of it repeating, she came to the understanding that they were anything but random. The mothers and fathers of the members were just as interlinked with each other as the idol singers, even calling each other from time to time as well. So, wondering about their kids wasn't something all too uncalled for.

The girl chuckled to herself. "She got really irritated with me though."

"Why?" Jeonghan grinned.

"I asked her, 'You do know we're in Italy, right?' because the phone call would be really expensive for her," another giggle fell from her lips. "And she snapped at me, 'Why would I care about money if I want to talk to you!'" She raised her arms in defence, "Sorry."

The imitation of the older woman's voice got a burst of laughter from each member in return.

"All of our parents really like talking to you," the oldest commented. "Even my sister tells me you talk to her on the phone a lot."

"Well," Minnie flipped her hair dramatically over her shoulder, "They just love me."

[The favourite child]

"It's because they don't know how you really are," Shua jokingly added, getting a gasp and a shove to his arm from the girl.

She pouted in her seat. "That's something Cheol would say...," The chuckles from the other members were agreement enough. "Ugh, I miss him." Dramatically, she let her face fall into her hands.

"Didn't you talk to him yesterday?" Vernon asked, pure confusion lacing his voice.

Minnie lifted her head again, fixing her hair swiftly along the way, "What was yesterday?" Thinking for a second before she remembered the breakfast she, Minghao and the member in front of her shared, "Oh, yeah! But that was yesterday. Today's a new day."

"But you don't always get to talk to him every day," Jeonghan tried to reason, but she looked at him with a frown.

"I do." Her confession gained her multiple straight faces staring directly at her.

"You talk to him every single day?" In a clearly slightly concerned, yet amused and surprised tone, Joshua asked the girl, making her turn towards him. For a quick moment, she just looked at him before letting her gaze meet the other members and speaking up again.

"Wh- you... you don't?" Getting three clear shakes of heads.

"Every other day, yes, but not every day," Jeonghan explained, followed by Vernon,

"That's not normal, Minnie."

"What do you mean?" Chuckling at the reaction from the three guys. "Don't judge me like that!" But despite her exclaim, the '98 Liner sent her a face that told her more than she needed to know, so she pointed a strict finger at him. "I'm gonna tell him you cursed in front of the camera today!"

"Not without your phone you won't-" Before she could even realise what he had said, Vernon leaned forward, snatching her phone away from her to put it into the pocket of his jacket that was hung around the back of his chair.

Minnie could only look at him with her mouth hanging open. While she glared at him, the rapper kept up a contained grin. The two older members watched the young duo in amusement, smiling at their antics but keeping quiet.

Silently, the female singer propped her arm up on the table, her palm open in front of them. "Give it back."

Vernon reached for his drink to take another sip. He nodded as he enjoyed the alcohol going down his throat. "You have good taste." Reaching his hand out, he slapped her palm with his, smiling, "High five."

Minnie's chuckle didn't hide her warning tone, yet it didn't seem to face the younger member. "Give me my phone."

"I don't have it," he simply shrugged. His dull comment made the girl laugh out loud, yet desperation dropped from her lips as she whined,

"Vernonnie..., please." The older members continued to watch in giggles, not able to focus on anything else as they adored the interaction between the two youngsters.

"I really don't have it," he continued to stand his ground, knowing he was getting a raise out of the girl as she fidgeted in her seat, her tone getting stricter.

"Vernon-"

"Minnie-ya," Jeonghan suddenly interrupted, "if he says, he doesn't have it, then you should believe him."

"Huh?!" While she glanced at the oldest in pure shock, the '98 Liner couldn't contain himself in his seat, his shoulders starting to shake as laughter took over his body. Joshua joined him, shaking his head along with his chuckles.

"You guys-" the girl exclaimed, her eyebrows shot up as she looked around the table. She was once again stopped, this time by Shua, who tapped her arm and nudged his head towards the waitress who was coming back with the pizza they had ordered.

They quickly thanked her and were about to dive in, but Minnie continued to shake her head in disbelief.

"I really don't like you, guys." Letting the chuckles that followed be the end of the conversation before they started eating.

The four enjoyed their meal, conversing only a slight bit to comment on the taste of the pizza while Joshua continued to admire, "the vibe", making the girl smile in return. While Jeonghan and Minnie were full quickly, having had a filling breakfast not too long before, Joshua ate a tad bit more before leaving the rest to the youngest, who skipped the earlier meal to sleep in. The alcohol was only helping feeling more full, so they decided to get it in a plastic cup to-go, letting them move on with their exploration day through the city.

They left the food court to walk around the outside of the building just like the oldest had suggested when they had arrived.

"Where should we go now?" he asked into the round.

They tried to find a free space to stop and think about their next journey, but the mass of people was making it harder for them to keep together, making Minnie interlock her arm with Joshua's, who was right beside her.

"Well, what kind of vibe do you want to go for?" He asked his fellow '95 Liner.

"Don't you think we need to go to the cathedral?" He wondered in return, catching the attention of the younger members.

"Yeah, let's go there!" Minnie exclaimed.

"Cathedral?" Joshua turned to her, wondering if he had heard the other member correctly, so the girl nodded while Jeonghan continued,

"Okay, then let's go towards the Duomo cathedral!"

"We can see what's along the way or decide on what to do next once we're there," the female member proposed, which the member seemed to agree with as they started to walk together.

Vernon, who appeared to have become the designated navigator, held onto his phone as he walked straight ahead, leaving the other three to stay right behind him, following his every step.

"What do you think about the streets of Europe?" Jeonghan wondered out loud, directing his question towards Joshua, who seemed overly captivated by the architecture around him.

"It's so nice," he spoke dreamingly. "It really has a vibe." His choice of words brought another chuckle out of Minnie as she continued to sip on the plastic cup that she almost finished. "You're lucky you got to grow up in areas like that," he said to her, but she shook her head.

"It didn't look like that where I grew up," she defended herself, but Shua was quick to speak up again.

"But most of Europe has old architecture. And just a lot of history behind buildings and stuff."

"I guess, yeah... but when you grow up in Europe, surrounded by older buildings, you don't really realise just how 'lucky' you are and how... unique it is for others," she explained in detail. "I only noticed how different it was when I came to Korea. But then the way that you think about Florence now is how I thought about Seoul. Seoul was really really cool to me because it was so different."

"Yeah... you're probably right," he told her.

Minnie chuckled, "I know I am," answering him with a bright grin, earning her a nudge to her side with his hip making her slightly stumble as they laughed in chorus.

It didn't take long for them to find it. The curved rooftop of the building came into view as the height overshadowed most constructions in the city. Joshua and Jeonghan got their phones out of their pockets, holding them up to get a few pictures of the cathedral. Just as Minnie was about to do the same, reaching into the back pocket of her jeans, she found it empty. Then she realised-

"Can you take good pictures and send them to me, please?" A chuckling Vernon passed her as she decided to stand still, her eyes following him with a glare he couldn't see, thanks to her sunglasses. Her gaze followed the entire front of the construction, trying to find the very top of the roof up in the sky.

The guys couldn't believe their eyes, gasping and throwing out exclaims of admiration as they looked around the open space.

"This is the heart of Florence!" Jeognhan cheered as he walked a bit further ahead than the others. They decided to follow him as he continued their journey deeper into the city centre, making sure to admire every passing building as more marvellous churches followed.

They stopped in front of a specific one, taking a closer look at the statues that decorated the front. In awe of the stone carving, the guys made sure to not let a corner of it get un-photographed. The producers that came along with them were able to answer most questions that the group had. Mostly about the hand carving of each stone and stature right in front of them.

Each member seemed to have found their own way as they slightly parted, leaving the different cameramen to disperse as well, following them individually as they roamed the streets around the cathedral.

Suddenly, Minnie turned towards the producing crew that followed right behind her.

"Where's Yongseok-hyung?"

[All of a sudden?]

Vernon, who was next to her, erupted in chuckles, leaving the two older members, who were further ahead, in confusion, but their attention was on something else anyway.

One of the producers, holding a typical tour guide flag in his hands, laughed at the girl's question. "Minnie-ya, you're watching these beautiful buildings and you're thinking of Yongseok?" The realisation of busting the question in that situation hit her, making her laugh as well.

"No, I- I just realised I didn't even see him in the morning."

"He's preparing more things for all of you, you'll see him later," he assured her, making the girl nod quickly as she dropped a,

"Ah, okay," before she turned her focus back on what was ahead of her.

[To Na PD: please always make sure Minnie sees you before you leave <3]

They found each other again in a smaller side street, that was home to local artists who were able to portray their artwork - everything from oil paintings to pencil drawings and even caricatures, which seemed to have caught the interest of the two oldest.

"Jeonghan-ah!" Joshua called out, "Can I do a caricature?"

"I was going to ask you to do it together!" He shouted back, turning towards the younger members who were standing close by together. "You guys wanna do it all together?"

Minnie chuckled at the excitement radiating off him. She couldn't say no to a happy Jeonghan. "Sure," she nodded, glancing over at Vernon, who joined her as they made their way over to one of the artists who was unoccupied at the moment. Together, the four sat down in front of the man, taking off their glasses as they posed for the drawing. Minnie sat down between her fellow English-speaking members, running a hand down her blouse to straighten it out.

"Let's not look until it's done," the oldest suggested, to which Shua happily agreed, nudging his head at Minnie and Vernon, who were just amused at the two members next to them.

Quicker than expected, the artist finished the pencil drawing, turning his board around to let the group get a glimpse of what he had created. The singers immediately erupted in laughter, with the female member having to lean onto the '98 Liner as she hid her face in his shoulder.

"We're all the same," Vernon chuckled, slanting forward in his seat.

"I don't look like you guys!" The girl gently hit his arm as she couldn't hide her amusement as well.

The rapper shook his head. "The only thing different about you is the hair, other than that, we all look the same." And a closer look at the picture just confirmed it, only making her start giggling again.

They thanked the man and Jeonghan took the picture with him before they continued their journey.

"Ah, that was so funny," Vernon breathed out, the other members smiling along with him. "It was really unexpected."

"That's why it was fun," Jeonghan answered, still clearly amused at the drawing in his hands.

The producers asked the group to find a good spot to take a picture of them holding the caricature before they would decide where to go next. With the sun now shining directly onto them, Joshua, Vernon, and Minnie were back to wearing the sunglasses as they quickly posed for the asked picture, making sure they were standing in the same order as they were on the drawing.

They found themselves at the highest point of the city again after getting the recommendation to go there from the tour guiding producer. The Piazzale Michelangelo was the perfect decision, they realised, the moment the view of the entire city hit them.

"Woah...," Minnie gasped as they got closer to the railing overlooking the rest of what was in front and below them.

Joshua nodded, "That's crazy."

"It must be insane to be here at night," the girl commented, being only able to imagine the lights that would illuminate the darkness. A clear view of an ancient city skyline was not something to be taken for granted. They continued to walk around the space, staying too close to each other as they continued to talk about the view. Joshua suggested taking a few pictures of each other in front of the railing, so they looked out for a free spot to occupy. Jeonghan led them towards one, pushing Shua forward first so he could snap some pictures of his fellow '95 Liner. Vernon followed close by, getting a few shots taken of himself before the oldest pushed Minnie forward too.

"Let me take some pictures of you guys together."

The rapper had one hand on the railing, leaving enough space for the girl to come in closer as they posed together.

"Hehe," Jeonghan chuckled, "cute."

Vernon left only a moment later, leaving the female member alone for a last few pictures.

"I'll send them into the group chat." Doing exactly so only a few seconds later.

A sigh from the youngest made Minnie turn towards him, her eyebrows in a slight frown as he pulled something out of the pocket of his jacket.

"Your phone keeps ringing." In his hand now, her phone, making her scoff as she tried to get it out of his grasp. Damn his reflexes, he shot his arm up in the air, leaving the girl with a sulk as she now had to look up to where he was tightly holding onto it. The girl just sent him an unamused glare while the smile she was trying so hard to suppress was making it hard to take her seriously. Still, Vernon lowered his arm again and handed her her phone back.

"So you did have it?" She sarcastically asked him, but he just shrugged with a soft grin making his lips curl.

"I found it just now." To which Minnie rolled her eyes.

She had already seen the name on her screen, so she was quick to answer it.

"Yeah?"

"Where are you? Why did you take so long to answer?" His immediate concern brought a chuckle out of her.

"Vernon had my phone," she spoke as she glared at the man in question who just sent her a thumbs up, making her shake her head. "He gave it to me now because it was annoying him that you were calling all the time."

"Well, I was trying to reach you for a while. Are you still in Florence?" Mingyu asked her from the other end of the line.

The female member smiled in amusement, "Obviously."

"Where are you right now?"

"Ehm... I think it was called Piazzale Michelangelo. It's like an open space on top of the city."

Her wording seemed to have confused the rapper. "On top?"

"Not directly on top. It's on a hill- wait, I can Facetime you." She pulled the phone away from her ear, clicking on the button that let her turn on the camera. Her face lit up the moment she came to sight with two of her fellow '97 Liners on the screen.

"Hi, Hao!"

"Hi, Minnie! How's Florence?" He wondered.

"Woah... honestly... you would love it here. Both of you would."

"You haven't sent any pictures yet," Mingyu told her.

Minnie had to hold back a roll of her eyes as she remembered just why she wasn't able to do so just yet. "Yeah, Vernon had my phone the entire time. He didn't let me take it."

"Oh," he just said before laughing, the other member joining in.

Suddenly, another voice from behind the phone camera spoke up, "What did you do to him, Minnie-ya?"

"Yongseok-hyung!" The girl called out in cheer," Mingyu turn the phone around!" With a chuckle and a scoff, he did as she asked. "Hi!" The girl shouted into the phone, getting a whole-hearted laugh from the producer.

"Are you enjoying your time in Florence?"

"Yes! Thank you, really. We had a really nice time here. I even asked about you," she admitted.

"Me? Why about me?"

Minnie leaned against the railing behind her as she continued the conversation. "I didn't see you in the morning, so I was wondering where you were."

"Aw, Minnie-ya," the producer chuckled. "That's very sweet of you. I'll see you when you come back."

"Okay!" She grinned into the phone.

"I'm gonna give the phone back to Mingyu." To which she nodded, smiling as soon as the mentioned member was back in view.

"Look," she turned her camera around to give him a peak of what she was currently seeing. An echoed gasp came from the speakers of her phone as Mingyu and Minghao were able to get a look at the city far ahead of them. "It's for real so beautiful." The camera was back on her when she was suddenly joined by the younger member next to her.

"Shua-hyung said it has a romantic vibe."

Minnie frowned at his remark. "Then I don't know why I'm here with you guys." Getting a chuckle from the other end of the line.

"Can you send some pictures?" Mingyu wondered, making her nod.

"Yeah, I'll do it now," she waved into the camera. "I'll see you at home."

"Have fun!" Hao shouted out.

"Stay safe," the rapper added before the girl ended the call. In a swift motion, she turned around to take a few pictures of the view before tapping on the icon that would lead her to her gallery.

With a quick suck in of air, she glanced up at Vernon.

"You took pictures with my phone!" Finding different pictures he had taken over the course of the day, some of the buildings and streets they passed and some of her as she unknowingly wandered in front of him.

"Yeah," he simply just told her, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

Minnie shook her head in disbelief, "You... really..." chuckling as she clicked on a few she would want to send all while his eyes followed each movement of her fingers on her screen.

"You have a separate group chat?!" He suddenly called out, making her gaze at him in slight confusion.

Minnie chuckled at his reaction. "We live together. Of course, we have a group chat." Defending the chatroom she shared with Wonwoo and Mingyu, to which she sent the pictures she had just taken along with Vernon's photos, adding a quick message underneath before sending it.

Taglist: @waosobii @chaebb @lunarxsun @hoe4wonwoo @kimhyejin3108 @soobzao @billboard-singer @cosmicwintr @zwiehe @alixnsuperstxr @angie-x3 @smooore @allthings-fandoms @lllucere

#minnie 🌷#seventeen #seventeen oc #seventeen 14th member #Nana tour #fluff

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