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muniimyg · 2 days

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𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (18) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request: closed

note: some angst ?? but it's heartwarming... smut ofc because we are so back ! jk and oc finally kiss again (and can't stop) and so he fingers her. they sort of... talk things out??? def on the right path to their happily ever after <3

one thing jungkook and zion have in common (aside from being each other's splitting image) is that they’re both grumpy when sick.

last night, when zion slept over at jungkook’s, he was whiny and snappy. he cried a few times, sobbing for you (he's also been going through separation anxiety with you regardless. being sick just makes it feel extra awful). it worried jungkook since whenever zion was sick, you were always around. you were always the one to take care of him, and even if jungkook wanted to help, zion would throw a fit and refuse to let him near.

he can’t blame his son, though.

jungkook is the same.

when he’s sick, he only wants you. only you could nurse the sickness away. only you could make him feel better.

as the sun came up, zion woke up in a tired, slow mood. he wasn’t snappy or grumpy per se, but he was definitely out of it. jungkook checked his temperature (it was normal) and even added oranges to his snack box for the extra vitamin c. it’s a little chilly today; the sky looks like it has plans to cry soon, so he dresses zion in an extra layer. then, he lets you know what’s going on, drops zion off at daycare, and tells zion’s educators that he’s feeling a little under the weather.

jungkook repeats over and over again: "please call me if he’s really not feeling up for it today. he doesn’t have to be sick sick, okay? just call me if he even tells you guys he’s tired. i have a meeting, but i’ll come right when it’s over… that’ll be around 11 a.m."

at 11:28 a.m., zion’s daycare calls jungkook to say that zion spent the entire morning sleeping and then woke up to throw up.

at 11:31 a.m., he texts you.

by 11:45 a.m., he rushes into the daycare, grabbing zion’s backpack and holding him with his other arm.

… and holy shit, is it awful.

zion is kicking and screaming, bawling his eyes out because he doesn’t want jungkook. he’s uncomfortable and running really hot. jungkook is trying to sign zion out as his educators quickly update him on the details of zion’s morning.

jungkook can’t hear a thing.

he just keeps thinking to himself: fuck, i wish ___ were here.

hustling to leave, jungkook’s feet come to a halt at the door.

it’s pouring rain.

he hisses, feeling like he will lose his mind in the next five seconds. everything is so overstimulating and heavy. zion’s sobs grow louder with each passing moment he’s in jungkook’s arms. zion’s backpack isn’t even zipped up properly, so some of his things are falling out—and holy fuck, why is it raining so fucking much?

then, it gets worse.

jungkook’s car is parked four blocks away. he suddenly remembers this as he scans the area and feels even more helpless.

he takes a deep breath and accepts his fate. he accepts that zion will be crying in the car the whole ride long. he accepts that the backpack he’s carrying will be empty by the second block. he accepts that he and zion will be drenched in rain and probably get sick soon, too.

he accepts his fate.

“zion, daddy parked the car far away. i’m really sorry, buddy. can you take some deep breaths for me before we go? we’re going to get wet, and it’s hard for daddy to focus if you’re crying like this—”

zion hits jungkook’s shoulders and sobs even harder. “no! i don’t want to get wet! i don’t want you! i only want mommy—”

“she’s coming, zion. mommy will be at the house—”

“no!” zion cries, shaking his head profusely. “i want mommy now!”

jungkook can’t help but tear up. zion is burning up. his small hands clutch onto jungkook’s shirt, and his face is flushed with fever. he shifts slightly in jungkook’s arms, letting out a tired whimper. jungkook’s heart twists.

he stares at the rain pouring down, watching it hit the pavement in heavy sheets.

just 4 blocks.

he’d done it a hundred times before—walked this exact route, held zion in his arms when things got tough. but for the first time in his whole fatherhood, he doesn’t know how to be one. not that he’s a pro and has known what to do for the past three years—but he was usually better than this. he knows how to calm zion down. he knows how to hold his son and walk four blocks. he knows tough days… but for some reason, right now feels impossible.

it feels like he’s stuck.

it feels like shit.

he takes a deep breath, his mind racing as he prepares to step into the rain.

“we’ll be okay,” he murmurs, more to himself than to zion, who is now resting his head on jungkook’s shoulder. every muscle in jungkook’s body is tense, ready to sprint through the storm if that’s what it takes. “daddy’s fast. okay, zi? but i’m going to need your help for extra speed. can you take a deep breath and count with me? let’s go in three, two, one—”

just as jungkook is about to step into the rain, there you are.

“zion!” your voice calls out.

you appear out of nowhere, stepping into view with an umbrella in hand. your eyes lock with jungkook’s; they’re filled with concern but somehow steady, reassuring. it’s like you know exactly when to show up, like you always do.

no call, no texts—just… there.

thank god.

jungkook exhales, feeling the weight of everything lift just a little. maybe timing isn’t something you can plan or force, but somehow, it always feels right when it comes to you. truth be told, you have this way of arriving just when everything feels like it’s slipping out of control—like the universe is telling jungkook he’s destined to wait for you.

to live life with you.

to be with you.

to love you.

zion gasps, quickly wiping his own tears.

“mommy!” he exclaims, his voice thin but full of excitement. “mommy! come here, please! i want you! okay? daddy—it’s mommy! see? over there? yellow umbrella…”

jungkook follows zion’s gaze and watches as you cross the street.

“yeah,” jungkook sighs softly, brushing a hand through zion’s damp hair. “look at that… mommy came for you, zi.”

zion smiles tiredly, his face softening despite the fever’s flush. “cos she loves me.”

“she does,” jungkook chuckles, pressing a light kiss to zion’s forehead. “i love zion too.”

zion huffs, crossing his arms weakly before whining in that small way only toddlers could. “no. i only want mommy’s love—oh, oh, oh! my mommy—” he wriggles in jungkook’s arms, reaching out towards you.

jungkook feels the shift in zion’s body, the way his little arms reach out desperately for you. it’s as if you are the only thing that could make the world feel right again.

finally, beside them, you step forward, and jungkook loosens his hold. gently, he transfers zion into your waiting arms. zion nestles against you instantly, his tired body finding comfort in the way you hold him—the way only you could.

jungkook stands there for a moment, watching you two. a small pang of something—loss, maybe—passes through him. but it isn’t about that. it isn’t about pride or who could soothe zion better.

it’s about the way zion relaxes, finally at peace in your arms, and how the pouring rain is nothing compared to the sunshine you radiate.

then, jungkook sighs. his heart is heavy and warm at the same time. with his parents taking zion over the weekend, jungkook only really had him for one cranky night and this hectic morning.

now, it’s noon, and it’s crystal clear that he isn’t enough for zion.

today, he failed.

… and that’s okay.

as much as parenting is about getting things right, it’s also about getting things wrong. this? this is what parenting is too—knowing when to step back, to let someone else be the safe place. as much as it stings, it is also filled with relief.

zion is safe.

zion is loved.

… and in the end, that’s all that matters.

as zion settles into your arms, jungkook takes the umbrella from you. he steps into the rain, holding the umbrella for you two. patting zion’s back, you whisper reassuring things into his ears. he giggles and begins to babble about how much he missed you. he requests noodles and to sleep on the couch tonight. you tell him no, that his bed is better. he doesn’t fight you. instead, he asks if he can get a lollipop for his sore throat. you grant that request.

“nam joon just sent me here by uber… but i think it left already. where’s your car?” you ask jungkook.

“it’s 4 blocks away. should I go get it—”

“it’s fine,” you decide. “let’s walk there together. are you okay? you look kind of—”

“mr. and mrs. jeon?”

you both turn your heads to see zion’s teacher come out. she has two small containers in her hand and zion’s water bottle. she jogs over despite the rain.

“oh! thank goodness i caught you two. these are zion’s—” she hands the items to jungkook. he opens zion’s bag and puts the things inside. “... and i just wanted to remind you we have show and tell next week. i meant to mention it earlier when mr. jeon was signing zion out but forgot. anyways, get home safe and get well soon, zion!”

“thank you,” jungkook nods. “thanks for calling too.”

zion’s teacher smiles warmly. “no worries! zion is so precious to us. even when he has his days… i don’t think i’m supposed to say this, but—he’s our favorite. he’s always curious and funny. he’s kind and organized for a 3-year-old… probably gets that from you two, huh? he always talks about you two. he loves you guys so much and always draws family pictures of you at home.”

your heart melts.

“... and honestly? i’ve never seen you two pick zion up together, and my colleagues and i all talk about how much you two suit each other… seeing it in person—together? wow. you look like you were destined to be a family.”

jungkook’s heart melts.

you two laugh and thank her for her kind words. they don’t make you feel awkward… if anything, they make you smile. to be known and loved—to have people believe in you two… it’s different. it’s something else.

it’s something real.

as zion’s teacher bids her goodbye, you and jungkook share a look.

“let’s go?”

jungkook nods, follows your lead, and trails a few steps behind you.

he holds the umbrella high above you and zion, making sure the rain doesn’t touch either of you. you glance back, catching a glimpse of his shoulders already soaked after just a few steps in, his hair dripping with rain while yours and zion’s remain dry.

suddenly, you feel a rush of warmth and frustration all at once.

he does this every time—always putting himself last, always making sure you and zion are okay first. it’s one of the ways he loves; you know that. quietly, without asking for anything in return. but right now, as you feel the warmth of zion’s little body against yours, dry and protected under the umbrella, something twists inside you.

fuck.

you hate it so much.

“jungkook…” you start, your voice soft, but he shakes his head before you can say more, a small smile playing on his lips.

“i’m fine,” he says, like he always does, eyes darting briefly to zion nestled in your arms, then back to you. there’s something so gentle in that look, and it’s enough to silence you. because you know—he’s doing this because he wants to, because this is how he loves. he won’t let you carry the weight alone, not even for a second.

still, it frustrates you.

watching him like this, so selfless and soaked, makes you want to pull him under the umbrella, to wrap him up and shield him the way he does for you. but you know he wouldn’t let you. you sigh, biting back the urge to protest. instead, you adjust zion in your arms and glance back at him, hoping he knows.

and he does.

because when your eyes meet his, there’s a moment—unspoken, quiet—where you don’t have to say a word. in the way you look at him. he can feel it: the gratitude, the love, the quiet ache of wanting him to take care of himself, too... and maybe he feels it too because the smile he gives you is softer this time. a little more knowing.

you wish you could pull him closer, but in your own way, you love him back. you hold zion a little tighter, taking care of what he holds dear to his heart, just as he takes care of both of you.

as the rain pours harder, he stays a step behind, soaked but steady, and you walk together in the silence, knowing without words that love isn’t always about who gets wet and who stays dry.

sometimes, it’s about who’s willing to stand in the rain for you.

the car ride was quiet.

you sat in the back, holding zion’s hand the entire time. zion fell asleep but would shift and murmur, “mommy, mommy…”

jungkook drove carefully and often glanced back at you two. he isn’t sure why, but he kind of really loves this moment. it reminds him of the day you two were bringing zion home from the hospital.

he loves the way you are with his son.

he loves you so much.

when you get home, zion is attached to you by the hip. he throws a tantrum when jungkook pulls him away from you so he and zion could go take a bath together while you get started on chicken noodle soup for lunch. jungkook struggles and feels bad for ripping zion away from you, but doesn’t take it to heart.

zion is just like this when he’s sick.

once their bath is finished, zion comes running to you from the washroom. jungkook follows along, drying his hair with a towel. you pick up zion and set him on his chair, prepared to feed him.

from the corner of your eye, you see jungkook put his jacket on and search his pockets for his keys.

“are you leaving?” you ask, feeding zion a spoonful. “i made you lunch too. please stay—”

“i’m gonna go buy some medicine for him,” jungkook says. “and those lollipops for sore throat? does he even have a sore throat?”

you laugh. “don’t think so. we got into a bad habit of giving him them every time he’s sick though… might as well go along with it. at least they make him feel better.”

jungkook chuckles, “whatever you want, honey—”

he clears his throat.

“sorry.”

you shrug. “don’t be.”

he offers you half a smile and ruffles zion’s hair before heading to the door. as he puts on his shoes and opens the door, you call for him once more.

“drive safe, okay?”

“i will.”

“go to the pharmacy on 11th. it’s the closest and they sell the apple flavour cough syrup he likes.”

“i will.”

“the lollipops are usually hidden behind their stash of kids tylenol. so look behind the tylenol.”

“i will.”

“honey?”

“mhmm?”

“go and come back quickly.”

jungkook doesn’t turn back. instead, he smiles to himself and lets his heart flutter. biting his inner cheek, he attempts to act cool.

“i will.”

the day goes by fast.

jungkook came back with everything zion could possibly need. after giving zion his medicine, jungkook scrafed down the lunch you made him. it didn’t take long for zion to fall asleep. in fact, he fell asleep right away.

as you place zion on his bed, you kiss his forehead and take his temperature again. his fever is still high but it should get better in a few hours. you’ll check on him again in a bit. shutting the door to his door, you take a deep breath and head to the living room where jungkook is on his laptop, finishing up a few things for work.

“how’s his fever?” jungkook asks.

“still high,” you reply, taking a seat next to him on the couch. peaking over, you notice the pharmacy bag jungkook left on the coffee table. you lean forward and take it. bringing it to the kitchen with intentions to throw it away, you notice another box left inside.

reaching your hand in, you take it out thinking it’s just another type of medicine jungkook got for zion. to your surprise, it’s a box of condoms.

condoms.

you and jungkook don’t fuck with condoms.

quickly, the feeling of betrayal kicks in. how could he do this? what does this even mean? was he sleeping with someone else? or worse… does he not want more babies with you? that’s fucked up. it’s so fucking fucked up. seriously, what the actul fuck—

“sorry, i was submitting something. what did you say?” jungkook calls out.

you snap out of your thoughts and put the box back inside the plastic bag. you set it on the kitchen island and go back to join him on the couch. sitting yourself down, you inch closer to him.

“his fever is still high… but i’ll check again after an hour or two. the medicine probably just needs to settle in… i hate sick season. not only is everyone around us sick, but zion can be—”

“mean?”

“i was gonna say needy…”

jungkook laughs sarcastically and shuts his laptop. placing it to the side, he sighs.

“he hated me today.”

“that can’t be true—”

“oh,” jungkook snickers. “he hated me. he only wanted you. i felt so helpless when i went to pick him up. i’m glad you came… i’m guessing they contacted you too?”

you nod. “yeah. i was about to start this new case when i got the call. told nam joon i had to leave and have someone else take my client—”

wide-eyed, jungkook shifts. “you lost a client today because i—”

“no,” you say sternly. “that’s not what i meant.”

jungkook pauses.

then, it hits him.

it’s been like this for a while, hasn’t it? constantly miscommunicating and assuming things between you two rather than spending the time and effort to figure things out.

“... is it okay if i stay the night? i know we’re broken up or whatever but i’d really like to stay and help out as much as i can. i know he doesn’t want me around and you probably have this shit handled—”

“stay,” you tell him, reaching for his hand. you hold it tight and run your thumb across his knuckles. you press on the little letter ‘z’ on his hand. “... and i hate this. i need you to know that i hate this.”

“what do you—”

you don’t know what comes over you, but something does. it just does and you can’t help it. maybe it’s the box of condoms. maybe it’s the fact that this is the first time you’re alone with him in 2 weeks…

maybe it’s just time.

“i don’t want to be broken up,” you confess, eyes glossy. “i fucked up. you fucked up. this? this is so fucking fucked up… i miss you, jungkook. i know i’m confusing and i’m a pile of broken parts—but all i know is that even though we’re not together; i don’t want to be broken up. i can’t—i don’t want it. i can’t live without you, jungkook. this is so hard. i don’t want it to be this fucking hard—”

“okay, okay—”

“and i hate that you walk in the rain for us,” you choke on your own words. “next time i’m not bringing an umbrella. we’re a family, honey. either we all walk under the umbrella or we walk in the rain together.”

“okay—”

“and why do you have a box of condoms?” you blurt out. “do you not want to have babies with me anymore? or are you sleeping with—”

“don’t even fucking finish that sentence.”

jungkook glares at you, eyes piercing and heart racing.

you gulp.

“why do you have a box of condoms?”

he shrugs. “yoongi called and asked me to pick him up a box. he’s going through his slut era.”

your shoulders slump.

“i’m sorry i—i shouldn’t have looked and i shouldn’t have assumed—”

jungkook shakes his head. “no, no… it’s okay. this is good. i want you to talk about stuff like this with me. to say anything to me, really. i wait for your texts and calls all day… you have no idea how much i cried after we took zion to the kids cafe. how—for a moment—it felt like we were us again. god, ___… i want us again—mmhpfftt—”

on your bed, you and jungkook make out.

he’s on top (sort of. you two are laying together) and he uses one hand to cup your jaw. his lips feel soft and slippery as you reach and deepen the kiss.

jungkook slips his tongue in every now and then, exploring your mouth as if it’s his first time kissing you… and by how he does this; it truly does feel like that. he kisses you so good, it’s hard to pull away. you don’t need air. you need him and his fucking kisses.

“missed you,” he murmurs against your lips.

you smile and pucker up.

he kisses you again.

“love you.”

you giggle as he digs himself into the crook fo your neck.

“yah, i’m gonna be bad if you don’t say you love me back.”

“bad?”

“bad.”

you laugh and shift.

he pops his head back out and gives you a playful glare. staying silent, he takes that as a sign. before you know it, you feel him tugging your pajama shorts and underwear down. you gasp as he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucks on them, and then slips them between your fold without uttering a warning.

“w-wait—”

jungkook crashes his lips onto yours. he kisses you tender and soft, distracting you from the fact that he just shoved a finger inside you.

you moan as you feel him curl inside. he pumps his fingers in and out, then uses his thumb to circle your clit. you pull away from him, and he smirks as he watches your facial expressions change.

your eyebrows furrow, then they don’t.

your mouth parts and tiny moans escape your puffy lips.

the corner of your lips twitches every time jungkook hits the right spot.

it’s all just so beautiful. he loves seeing how pretty you are when you take him. he can’t help but lean in and kiss you every so often.

jungkook continues to finger you. your pussy is so wet, it’s a breeze finger fucking it. jungkook also can’t fucking look away. god, he loves watching you. he loves how you shut your eyes and murmur his name. he loves that you pout every time you want him to kiss you… which he does. he gives it to you. all the kisses in the world—he gives you his.

“what’s the matter?” jungkook teases you. “why you making that face?”

you gasp as jungkook fastens his speed. he rubs you like there’s no tomorrow.

“h-holy sh-shit!” you cry, reaching to hold onto his wrist. "uh, uh, mhmm! f-fuck..."

he lets you.

jungkook cups your jaw with his other hand and looks into your pretty eyes. your eyes sparkle with desperation—a plead if you will.

make me cum.

“cute,” jungkook hisses. “so fucking cute.”

you mimic his hiss as he continues to finger you. your stomach twitches and your hips jolt. he lets out a light laugh when your body reacts like this.

“d-don’t laugh. takes y-you like 5 seconds t-to cum when i suck your d-dick—”

as your lips meet again—this time—time stops.

the world around you two fades into a soft blur.

the warmth radiating from jungkook ignites something deep within you. it’s a gentle exploration at first, a soft brush of lips that sends a thrill coursing through your veins. You can feel his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, urging you closer.

the kiss deepens, transforming from hesitant sweetness to a fervent dance of longing. he adds another finger, earning a moan from you. he snickers against your lips. regardless, there’s a softness to the way he holds you. there’s a tenderness that belies the heat building between you two. every gentle press of his mouth is like an unspoken promise, a connection that draws you in, making you forget the rest of the world.

making you forget about time.

you responds eagerly, leaning into him, feeling the pulse of their shared rhythm. his lips are a perfect fit against yours. it’s intoxicating. the way he kisses you is a mix of passion and reverence, as if every moment spent in this embrace is sacred.

the taste of him lingers—sweet and a little bit electric, leaving you craving more.

soon, his hand on your jaw slides down to the hem of your frilly top. you comply to his hints and slide your spaghetti straps off. he then tugs your top down to your stomach, revealing your breasts. eagerly, he brings palms them. then, he brings his hand back to your jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss further. you can feel his heartbeat matching yours, a silent conversation between their souls.

in this moment, there’s no past, no future—only the here and now.

“f-fuck—” you pull away, feeling the rushing burn and intensity of your climax. "honey—"

“what’s wrong, honey?” jungkook messes with you. “what’s the matter?”

“i’m gonna—nghhh!”

jungkook finishes you off. he fingers you fast and hard. you lose your breath, trying to soak in this orgasm. as you reach your high, you feel it. as much as you want to tell him to slow down and stop; you can’t. you can’t because you know what’s coming—

you squirt.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh m-my—”

“fuck. yeah? that’s it, mama.” jungkook mumbles, taking his fingers out and gently rubbing in between your folds. your pussy tightens and you honestly see stars all around the room.

jungkook catches this look and chuckles. he leans in, kissing you once more. you chase after his lips when he pulls away. catching your breath, your foreheads touch. both slightly dazed, you pucker your lips and kiss his cheeks and neck. then, you catch his gaze, a mix of mischief and sincerity in his eyes, and know they’ve crossed a threshold.

it’s more than just a kiss; it’s a promise of what’s to come, something profound that lingers in the space between them.

“love you.”

“love you too.”

jungkook wakes up as he feels zion climbing into bed with you. sleepily, he places the back of his hand on zion’s forehead, but zion shifts away, groggy and fussy, swatting jungkook’s hand aside before snuggling closer to you.

you shift and reach over to feel zion’s forehead; he lets you.

“still has a fever,” you say, your voice dry and half-asleep. with your eyes still closed, you decide, “no daycare today.”

jungkook hums in agreement, feeling the warmth radiating from his son. he then moves closer to you two, putting his arm around zion. but zion huffs, grumbling in annoyance, and moves jungkook’s arm away, throwing his own over your body instead. you wrap your arms around zion, feeling his small frame relax against you.

jungkook sleepily opens his eyes and can’t help but feel left out.

“i hate you,” he groans, a playful pout forming on his lips. “why does he hate me so much when he’s sick?”

you let out a sleepy laugh, glancing at zion's scowling face. his little brow is furrowed, and he mutters, “daddy, stop. i don’t like you.”

the comment makes you chuckle. you hold zion tighter and kiss his cheeks, but he scrunches his face in irritation, clearly only wanting you to soothe him.

jungkook huffs, sitting up in disbelief. “you know he loves you—”

“i’m making breakfast,” jungkook mumbles, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. “want some coffee?”

you hum, your eyes still heavy with sleep. “i’d love some coffee,” you tell him. “... but i don’t have a coffee maker.”

jungkook nods, fully gaining consciousness now. “that’s fine. i’ll go out and buy some. i’ll be back.”

“okay,” you yawn, smiling at him. “sounds good, honey.”

as he gets up, zion whines softly, shifting closer to you, his little body still grumpy and unwilling to be touched by anyone but you. he buries his face in your side, and you can’t help but smile at the way he clings to you, seeking comfort while remaining stubbornly resistant to jungkook’s affection.

by the time you and zion wake up and wash up, jungkook has a whole breakfast spread ready on the kitchen island.

“wow!” you say with excitement. “zi, look! daddy made so much breakfast—”

“no.” zion turns his cheek. "no thank you daddy."

“no? no thank you daddy?” jungkook chimes in, approaching zion. he offers his arms and zion turns his cheek at his own father.

“no daddy. only mommy.”

jungkook hisses. “yah, zion… it’s a little much now. i’m beginning to take it personally.”

you laugh and reach for him. placing your hand on jungkook’s cheek, you run your thumb against his lips. “hi, honey. good morning. thanks for breakfast.”

jungkook smiles and leans over to you, ignoring zion being trapped in the middle. he kisses you softly.

“good morning, beautiful—”

“no!” zion pushes jungkook’s chest. “stop it. my mommy. no kissing my mommy.”

jungkook rolls his eyes. “zi, do you know you wouldn’t exist right now if i didn’t kiss mommy?”

“honey!”

jungkook laughs and playfully pokes zion. at first, zion doesn’t like it but he breaks character and cracks a smile. soon enough, he begins to laugh and reaches for jungkook. happily, jungkook takes his child and shows him all the food he prepared.

you watch them and can’t help but just feel… good. relieved and happy.

it’s been a long time since you felt this way.

jungkook hands you your coffee. you thank him and sip it. it tastes good. it tastes familiar, it tastes comforting… it tastes like it’s exactly what you need.

“oh,” jungkook reaches inside his pocket and takes a box out. “this is for you.”

tiffany and co.

you look at him, eyes wide and throat dry.

jungkook bounces zion a few times before swinging him around. he then puts him down and points to his toys on the living room floor. zion smiles and runs to his toys. while jungkook is bent down, he changes his position and settles on one knee.

he looks up at you.

“when i said that your career got in the way of us—that’s not what i meant to say. what i meant to say is that i missed you. back then, it felt like every time you came home; you just came home. you weren’t coming home to me—”

“jungkook, please understand that—”

“no,” he sniffs. “part of me fears that if i understand, i’ll agree with you—that we’ve messed up too much to fix this, that this is where we end. but i refuse to accept that. so, here’s my conclusion: even when i don’t understand you, i’ll love you through it. i will see through it. as crazy as it sounds, i believe in you more than myself. you won’t let me down, okay? i want to understand, even if i keep failing. just let me try—for the rest of my life. i love you, ___. i want to come home. i want to come home to you.”

he then opens the box and reveals the ring.

it’s beautiful.

“___, will you marry me?”

yes.

you want to say yes.

instead, you say; “what about new york?”

jungkook swallows.

“the offer is mine for one more week,” he explains. “new york is mine if i want it… but you’re what i want.”

“jungkook…”

“please,” he begs. “i don’t want to choose.”

you take a breath.

“are you asking—no—telling me to?” you ask, your heart racing.

he doesn’t answer, and silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken words. each second feels like a lifetime, the weight of his gaze pulling you in. you can feel your pulse quicken, a mix of excitement and fear swirling inside you.

“is it really one or the other?” you finally ask, breaking the tension.

“i don’t know,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

what does it mean to choose?

to say yes to one dream over another? the prospect of new york glimmers like a distant star, bright and promising, yet here in this moment, everything else fades. it’s just the two of you, the air is thin (as my waist).

you want to say yes, to embrace all the hurt and finally take it all... but doubts creep in—what if you choose him and he regrets it? what if you both lose everything? the future looms ahead, uncertain and daunting, but there’s also a warmth in your chest, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, love is enough because timing is on your side. that maybe, after all these years falling asleep next to him; you two dream the same dream.

“jungkook,” you finally breathe, feeling the weight of your decision. the world outside blurs as you focus on the man in front of you, the man who has laid his heart bare. can love really be enough to hold you both together?

his eyes search yours, filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. in this moment, every hesitation fades. you know that whatever you choose will shape not just your future, but both of yours.

you take a deep breath, the anticipation heavy in the air, and feel the gravity of the moment.

as you look into his eyes, you see a reflection of your own uncertainty mingled with hope. there’s something electric between you, an unspoken understanding that transcends words. the way he holds your gaze makes your heart race, a silent promise hanging in the balance.

time seems to stretch like a taut string, each heartbeat echoing in the silence as you search for answers in each other’s eyes. the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in this suspended moment. in this stillness of you and jungkook, you two want the same things;

for time to be on your side.

for love to be enough.

for the choice to be right.

#bts fanfic #bts angst #jk smut #jk angst #jungkook dilf #jungkook smau #jungkook series #jungkook x yn

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lovelookspretty · 21 hours

Text

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: ermm angst. and another ending that will make u guys mad at me IM SORRY

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven

authors note: SRY idk how to write dramatic scenes like that ☹️ im gonna be better prepared for the next part so u guys can communicate PROPERLY w drew n not in some STUPID restaurant. anyway if u wanna be part of the tag list, let me know in replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

your fingers trace the outline of freckles on his arm as he talks about a memory from your past. the soft murmur of his voice blends with the steady rhythm of the waves outside, each sound wrapping around you like a lullaby. there’s no clear distinction between his words, just a gentle hum of familiarity and warmth, like he’s telling you something only the two of you could ever understand.

you can feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the slight shiver that follows each brush as if he’s waiting for you to react, to smile at whatever joke he’s just made.

and you do. you always do.

it feels easy, like breathing, like everything else fades away in this moment.

you’re both lying there, tangled up in each other, the world outside irrelevant. his voice is like the background music of a song you never want to end, and the smile in his tone is contagious, making your heart flutter in a way that feels like home.

and in this space, you’re in love. you’re safe. there’s no distance, no secrets, no hurt—just you and him, where time doesn’t seem to exist. it feels perfect, endless, like nothing could ever come between you.

his hand finds yours, and you smile—because here, in this place, nothing else matters but the two of you.

but that’s not your life.

the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers feels too real, too perfect—yet there’s a gnawing sensation in your chest, a quiet voice whispering that this can’t be right. you pause, staring into his eyes as they flicker with life, his laughter still echoing in your ears. and then, just like that, it hits you.

“this isn’t real . . .” you murmur, the words slipping from your lips like a confession, soft and sad.

the moment shatters, and you wake up with a start, eyes blinking into the early morning light. for a second, your heart races, still tethered to that dream. but as you take in the quiet room around you, reality sinks in like a heavy weight.

drew lies next to you, sound asleep. his breathing is slow, peaceful, completely unaware of the storm brewing in your chest. his face looks calm, almost serene, and for a moment, you can’t tear your eyes away. you wish things could be this easy—simple, like they were in the dream.

if only he knew what you know.

after making that sundae with leila last night—past midnight, no less—you thought you’d be able to shake off everything that happened, but it just made you feel worse. the messages you saw on drew’s phone replayed in your mind, over and over, refusing to let you find any peace.

now it’s morning, and as you drag yourself out of bed, you already feel exhausted. your eyes are gritty, head foggy, and the sun through the windows of the house feel too bright, too warm—too much. you rub your eyes as you shuffle down the stairs, hearing the chatter of everyone gathered in the kitchen for breakfast.

everyone’s already there, looking refreshed. gia’s laughter rings out from the kitchen, and you catch leila’s voice, animated as always, chatting with theo. they’re all gathered around the kitchen island, passing plates of food around—scrambled eggs, toast, fruit. the smell of coffee hits you, and you could almost cry from how much you need it.

leila notices you first. “good morning, sleepyhead!” she greets with a wide grin. “we were wondering when you were gonna wake up. there’s plenty of food left—grab something!”

you give a tired half-smile, barely lifting your head as you mumble, “morning.” your voice sounds flat, even to yourself, and you trudge over to the counter, grabbing a cup of coffee first before anything else.

theo leans back in his chair, eyeing you. “late night?”

you nod, stifling a yawn as you pour your coffee. “something like that.”

leila doesn’t miss a beat, already steering the conversation to her plans. “so, now that we’re all here, i’ve got some exciting news,” she says, “theo booked us a reservation at this amazing restaurant in town tonight, the pearl. we’re talking grand—so dress up nice!” she claps her hands together, clearly excited about the idea.

the group is enthusiastic—gia’s already asking what she should wear, and roman’s grumbling about having to dress up, which earns him a jab from libby. you sip your coffee, trying to focus, but everything feels like it’s happening at a distance.

“y/n you okay with that? dinner?” leila asks, pulling you into the conversation.

you glance up at her, blinking through the haze. “yeah, sure,” you reply. “sounds fun.”

she narrows her eyes at you, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “you sure? you seem a little out of it.”

you force another smile, trying to shake off the sluggish feeling. “just tired. i’ll be fine.”

gia chimes in from her seat, giggling as she steals a slice of toast. “maybe you just need more coffee.”

you nod, lifting your mug in agreement. “definitely.”

the conversation continues without you as everyone starts talking about what they’ll wear tonight, throwing out outfit ideas and making plans for the day. drew is sitting across the table, looking as refreshed as everyone else, laughing along with them. but you can’t bring yourself to look at him for long.

he catches your eye across the table. he looks at you with a soft, questioning expression, maybe sensing something’s off. you glance away before he can say anything, focusing on your coffee again, but you curse under your breath when out of the corner of your eye you can see him get up from his seat.

he slides into the chair next to you, a casual smile on his face. “started the trip off with a pool day, and now we’re heading to the pearl for dinner,” he says, glancing at the table where leila’s organized a small checklist on her notes app. “leila’s really in planning mode.”

you manage a half-hearted nod, feeling the fatigue settle deeper into your bones.

“hey,” he continues, his tone light, “you okay? you seem a little—”

you’re already over it. before he can finish, you drop your piece of toast back onto the plate, the sound cutting through the chatter around you. without another word, you push back your chair and get up, taking your coffee with you. the others’ voices fade behind you as you walk away, the tension in your chest tightening.

drew looks after you, brow furrowed, and glances at leila, who’s the only other person who even notices your behavior. confusion lines his features as he points to you while looking at her, like asking if she has any idea what’s up with you.

leila shakes her head in response, but glances up at you walking up the stairs in concern. drew seems unconvinced, but he nods, turning back to the table as you disappear upstairs. and you’re grateful for the distance, even if just for a moment.

Liked by theohain, oscareyre113, and others

y/n 🐚

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user1 divaa

user2 I MET U THE OTHER DAY YOU WERE SO NICE!!! 😭😭

↳ user3 YOU ARE SO LUCKY

user4 mother

gia.carinteri ure so cute

↳ y/n love u

leilajharmon angel baby

user5 Are you and Drew still together?

user6 y/n annual post i’m so grateful to be this early

user7 I miss Tempest :(

↳ user8 me too

user9 Why don’t you ever post Drew?

as you step into the pearl, the warm glow of the lights and the soft murmur of waves greet you. leila and theo lead the way, their laughter weaving through the air as they navigate the restaurant. you grip drew’s hand reluctantly as you follow the group.

the server guides you to a table outside, and your breath catches at the sight: the seaside view stretches out before you, waves crashing gently against the rocks. a delicate black metal arch hangs above the table, draped with twinkling lights that flicker like stars. a large, lush plant sways in the cool evening breeze, and you’re in awe.

you take your seat at the outer corner of the table, next to drew. the space feels too open, and you can feel his gaze on you as you fidget with your napkin, trying to ignore the way your stomach knots.

as the conversations flow around you, he leans in, propping his elbow on the table to speak to you privately. “what’s going on with you?” he asks, “and you can’t use the tired excuse anymore. you’ve had loads of coffee this morning.”

you glance at him, caught off guard by the directness of his question. but take a breath, searching for the right words. all you can manage is a small shrug. “i’m fine. seriously. don’t worry about it.”

you wish you could sound more convincing as the server approaches, placing a beautifully plated dish in front of you. relief washes over you; at least you can focus on the food for now.

theo suddenly clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “i just want to say how grateful i am that everyone is here to celebrate with us before i marry this beautiful woman,” he gestures to leila, who frowns as she presses a kiss to his cheek. as the table raises their glasses, you join in but feel somewhat disconnected, and shut out the rest of theo’s short speech until you’re able to eat.

as everyone digs in, gia reaches across the table, poking at her food. “y/n, do you want this?” she holds up a piece of grilled zucchini.

drew interjects before you can respond. “y/n doesn’t like zucchini,” he says casually as he cuts into his food, and you look at him with furrowed brows.

“oh, right.” gia laughs, realization hitting her. “i always mix you two up.” she turns to libby, who’s already reaching her plate across the table.

gia’s cheeks grow red as she giggles, and you continue to watch drew. your eyes meet briefly, but there’s an unspoken barrier between you, so you quickly look away, picking at your food instead.

eventually he even seems lost in thought, his gaze fixed on gia’s plate as he dazes out. roman, sitting across from you, catches on. he leans forward slightly, studying the table as if trying to read the tension, but you notice his motor.

“what are you doing?” you mouth to him.

roman raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. he glances at gia, then back at the rest of you, sensing the unspoken words hanging in the air. he knows something is up between you and drew but decides to keep quiet, because if no one else is saying anything about it, why should he?

and you understand exactly that. you roll your eyes before returning to your food.

“i could die for this garlic bread,” leila groans as she breaks a piece off and eats it. just from hearing it, theo reaches over to take a piece.

you hum as you reach your hand over, and drew grabs a piece for you when he realizes what you want. just as you sit back against your seat, a server from a nearby table accidentally brushes against you as they rushed by, a full glass of red wine slipping from their hand.

time seemed to slow as the glass tumbled, spilling its contents directly onto your lap. your mouth is gaped open and your eyes clamp shut as some of the wine bounces off and hits you directly in your face too.

the others gasp as they stare at you in horror.

“oh my g—” the server exhales, eyes wide with panic. “i am so sorry! i’m so, so sorry!”

you’re frozen for a moment, the cool liquid spreading across your dress, soaking through the fabric. you feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, and there’s a rush of embarrassment washing over you.

“perfect,” you mutter under yourself as you try to maintain your composure. “just what i needed.”

the server continues to apologize profusely, almost stumbling over their words. “i’ll get you some napkins! please, let me help!”

“it’s fine,” you tell him, forcing a smile despite the discomfort. “just . . . give me a moment.”

as you stand up, the chair scrapes loudly against the ground, and you can feel the wine seeping down your torso. you quickly glance at drew, who looks alarmed, his fork mid-air.

“y/n,” gia calls to you, but you’re already moving toward the doors, desperate to find a restroom.

“just let her go,” roman says quietly, sensing the tension still simmering beneath the surface. gia is worried as she watches you disappear inside the building.

drew rises from his seat and tosses his napkin onto his seat, pulling his sleeves up before hurrying into the restaurant to find you. meanwhile the server is urgently trying to clean your seat but frowns at the stained floors.

just as you reach the restroom, he catches up, breathless and urgent. you feel like groaning when you feel like you just can’t catch a break. “y/n! hey, wait,” he calls out to you, sliding past a man who tries to return to his table. “sorry.”

you halt, irritation surging. “what? what, what? what do you want?” your voice is strong and sharp, turning around to face him.

he stops in front of you and winces at the stains on your clothes, and he glances up at the doors of the restrooms when he realizes you probably should clean it off your arms and chest at least.

“i know you’re upset, but—” he begins, concern lacing his words.

“upset? you think that’s all it is?” you snap back, meeting his gaze. you actually feel insane with every word you release. “you don’t understand what this feels like.”

he looks confused, searching your eyes for clarity. “what?”

taking a deep breath to calm yourself as best as you can, you continue, “do you have any idea how humiliating it is to notice everyone stop talking and feel their eyes on you? and the moment you do get up and walk past them, all you can hear are their murmurs and whispers about how— how embarrassing this all is? it’s suffocating!”

he opens his mouth to respond, but you press on, frustration spilling out. “and it’s not even just about tonight. it’s about how it feels to find out your own fake boyfriend is keeping secrets from you and has been this whole time.”

his expression freezes, shock washing over his face. “what? keeping what from you?”

you consider your choices for a second before stepping forward to reach into his back pocket, but there he reacts—as swift as ever. like he has something to hide. and he does.

he grabs a hold of his phone before you can and when you look up at him, you can feel the guilt in his eyes. but seeing that doesn’t hurt you as much as it does when you understand how fast he is to keep his phone away from you.

you take a step back and feel yourself falter. tears well in your eyes as you watch the way he grips his phone like suddenly it matters to him. it never has before. and you know why it does now.

“so you do know what i’m talking about,” your voice is quiet, a mix of betrayal in your tone that causes drew to reach out to you to say ‘wait’.

“when in the last year did you turn into a child?” you whisper to him, a faint scoff leaving your lips as you stand before him. you’re confronting him in a hallway of a restaurant for crying out loud.

“when you make a plan with your ex-girlfriend, you make sure there isn’t somebody already waiting for you back home. you don’t get close to me while we’re here and you don’t keep it from me the whole time . . . i mean, when were you going to tell me? or tell mila?”

he shakes his head slowly, “i’m getting close with you for the others, remember? that’s our plan.”

“then you shouldn’t hold me and hug me when it’s just us, drew.”

his heart drops at the sound of his name, the familiarity twisting into something more painful in this moment. “y/n—”

“no, don’t ‘y/n’ me,” you cut him off, your voice rising. “you can’t just play both sides. if you’re going to keep secrets from me, then don’t pretend like we’re something we’re not when the rules don’t apply. it’s clearly more than just showing out in front of leila and everyone when it’s just us.”

“but it’s not like that,” he insists, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “we’re trying to make this work for everyone else!”

“for everyone else? or for yourself?” you ask him. “because i swear to you, if i had known mila existed, never in this universe would i have ever agreed to the plan. because it hurts all three of us. do you understand?”

you wait for him to say something—anything, but you’re not surprised when he just stares at you with the same look in his eyes.

it’s too much. way too much. and you still have so many things to say.

are you betrayed that your ex-boyfriend has someone new? are you even able to be mad at that?

“was it worth it?” your voice cracks as you struggle to get the words out. “i keep asking myself, was it worth it to feel so alive, even if it led to this? or would it have been easier if this just never happened at all and we just told them instead of doing all of this for fucking nothing.”

as the last words escape your lips, you push the restroom door open, leaving drew in the hallway in silence.

girl .. ill make a better confrontation in the next part or something what the fuck. im compiling a whole list of his mistakes rn so i can actually be prepared for it too LMAO

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @cl4uus @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy

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gguk-n · 12 hours

Text

Fading Shadow (Lando Norris x ex-Reader)

Part 2 of Last Straw Inspired by this request

Summary- Y/N moved on. Lando is still stuck, on what they had and what he lost.

{Reader's POV}

The moment I landed back home, I felt relief wash over me when I cried in my mother's arms. I had been holding on to too much, it seems. My father brought my favourite food and we ate together and we laughed together. This was the therapy I needed. My siblings weren't very happy with Lando since they had seen everything unfold on social media but they were happy to have their sister back. I was happy to be back home. I needed this, I needed my people.

I decided I needed a change of pace, a change of scenery. I had been mourning my relationship while I was still in it. Now, I was a new me, I was going to do everything I wanted.

I applied at the company I always wanted to work at but due to there being no vacancies I was assigned a job in a different country and I was ready to take on the world. I knew Lando would never search for me, he never truly loved me but I still wanted to leave. I needed a fresh start.

{Lando's POV}

The silence after the break up was exactly what I needed, or so I thought. I could leave as I wished. I could go out whenever I wanted. I didn't have to explain myself to anyone. It's so much better to be single then to be tied down.

I didn't think I would ever miss Y/N, but I did. I remember exactly when I missed her for the first time; it was after a difficult race and I had finish decently with the shitty cards I had and I just wanted someone to tell me how well I did; but there was no one; no one who knew what I wanted to hear. I felt so alone even when I was surrounded by hundreds of people for the first time in a long time.

The second time I missed her was when I was stood on top of the top step of the podium. I wanted to have her around so I could share my highs with her. I didn't get a 'do you wanna go out to celebrate?' like the last two times and I aired her both time to party with random girls. Right now, I was in the club celebrating my third win of my career and season and I felt empty and alone. Not even the alcohol helped.

The house we lived in was a stark reminder of the time we spent together. All our dates we had. All the times she would teach me how to cook but we would always end up with a big mess and half cooked or burnt food since I would get distracted. In retrospect, I loved every second of it even though I never admitted it then. I love all the time we spent together or the laugh she would emit when I messed up. I missed her and I wish she was here; I was too stupid to admit it then but I do now.

Oscar was getting sick and tired of me using his phone to check on Y/N's social media accounts since she had blocked me every where. I would end up borrowing the other driver's phone to check, just in case. Until one day, her account stopped showing up for Oscar too. I went through almost everyone on the paddock's phone to see if she had blocked my friends. Turns out, she had deactivated her social media accounts; I realised that after one of the gossip pages posted about her deactivating her profiles, across all the platforms.

I would wake up from dreams about her and I would fall asleep to the thought of her. No woman interested me anymore; I wish I was this loyal when we were dating, when she could see that I loved her, not now when she couldn't even see I had changed.

My PR team was losing their shit when I tweeted that. I had to sit through a stupid meeting after everything. It was miracle I didn't start crying in the middle of the meeting.

People had started to notice I guess, since Carlos approached me. "Cabron, what's up?" he asked while I was lying on my couch after media day. "Nothing" I hummed. "I fucked up right?" I asked. "I can't say no" Carlos said. I laughed painfully. "I didn't know how good I had it until it was all gone. I'm an ass and I deserve everything I'm getting" I cried. Carlos comforted me, hugging me tightly. "I just wish she would talk to me, at least once. So, that I could show her that I've changed. I really have Carlos. I love her so much, it hurts" I cried into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Lando" he said patting my back.

There's a saying, You don't know what you've got until it's gone. I was living that nightmare and I will never stop living it.

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itneverendshere · 2 days

Note

how would the cameron family react to rafe dating a pogue

found a girl my parents love - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) Ps: ward's not a monster in this, just an asshole sometimes, bc my boy rafe deserves a better father figure. also, didn’t know if this request was for this couple but i felt like it fitted them perfectly so here we are again 🫶🏻🤗

Rafe selfishly wanted to keep you a secret for as long as he could.

Not because he was ashamed of you—not even close. You were his, the only person who actually got him. That part of him he never let anyone see, not his family, not his boys.

It was complicated, though, and his family didn't do "complicated" well. Especially not with a pogue. His dad would flip if he knew he was dating someone he hadn’t been personally introduced to before.

The bartender from the club, of all people. The one they’d see serving drinks to them all summer, like you didn’t exist outside those moments. That was the thing though, you did exist, more than anyone he’d ever known. You were real. That’s why he wanted to keep it just for himself. It was his one thing that no one else could touch, could ruin. Topper knew, sure, but he wasn’t going to run his mouth to Sarah after she broke his heart.

So yeah, he held on to it, kept you away from the world that would tear it down before it even had a chance to really breathe. Until Weezie stumbled into your date at the ice cream shop.

He remembered the way his heart stopped when he saw her walk in. Of all places. Of all the people. She looked at him with wide brown eyes, then at you, and then back to him like she’d just walked in on something she wasn’t supposed to see.

And honestly? She did.

“What the hell are you doing here, Weeze?” he snapped, more out of panic than anger.

"Uh? Getting ice cream?" Her face lit up, a huge grin stretching across her cheeks. “What are you doing here? And with her?” She looked at you, her excitement bubbling over before Rafe could get a word in. “Oh my God, this is so cool! You’re dating her? Like, for real?”

You smiled awkwardly, sensing the tension rolling off him. He looked like he was seconds away from shitting himself. He could’ve killed Weezie right then and there. But instead, he just sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, well… don’t tell anyone, alright?”

“Are you kidding?” Weezie practically bounced. “I won’t say a word. Scout’s honor.” She shot you a smile before turning to leave. “But like, this is so cool.”

He scowled at her, “Stop being creepy.”

You slapped his chest, scolding him “Be nice.”

“Oh, I like her!”

She kept her word. For a little while, at least.

A few weeks later, they were all sitting around the dinner table—Ward, Sarah, Rafe, and Weezie. Rose was out doing whatever the fuck she did with her friends. Everything was going fine until Weezie, mid-conversation about nothing important, let it slip.

“I saw Rafe and his girlfriend the other day,” she said, just like it was no big deal.

Girlfriend.

Rafe froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. Sarah looked like she’d just been smacked in the face.

“Girlfriend?” Sarah’s voice went up an octave. “Since when do you have a girlfriend?”

He shot Weezie a look that could shove her ten feet under, but it was too late. She slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing her mistake.

Ward raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “You got something to share with the family, son?”

Rafe cleared his throat, putting his fork down, already working up a sweat. He knew he couldn’t lie his way out of this one. And honestly?

Maybe it was time to stop hiding. He glanced at Sarah, who still looked at him like he was from outer space, then at his dad. He’d always given him shit about girls, all these big speeches about how none of them were ever worth bringing home unless he was serious.

Well, he was serious.

“Yeah,” Rafe muttered, meeting his dad’s eyes. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “Who?”

“She’s a pogue!”

Rafe closed his eyes, sighing as Weezie blurted the most important piece of information out. She really just dropped the biggest bomb in the most casual way possible. His dad’s expression didn’t change much, but Sarah? She was fully in shock, her jaw practically hitting the table.

“A Pogue?” Sarah repeated, like she couldn’t believe the words even existed in the same sentence as Rafe. “Are you serious? In this lifetime?”

He shot her a glare. “Yeah, a Pogue. What, is that some kind of crime?”

“What?” She shrieked, “You gave me so much shit when I dated John B!”

He clenched his jaw, his patience hanging by a thread. Of course she was going to bring up John B. She couldn’t let anything go. “That was different,” he snapped.

Sarah scoffed, folding her arms “Different? How exactly?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Because John B’s a dirtbag who had you sneaking around doing God knows what. This is—” he stopped himself, trying to find the right words. “This is different, okay? She’s not like him.”

“So, it’s okay when you date a Pogue? Got it.”

“To be fair,” Weezie chimed in, “John B smelled like shit.”

He couldn’t help the snort that escaped his lips, even though the last thing he wanted to do was encourage her. Sarah shot Weezie a death glare, clearly not amused.

“Language,” Ward warned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I have to tell you girls? No swearing at the table.”

The room fell silent, everyone looking at Rafe like they were waiting for him to say something. His dad didn’t even look mad—if anything, he looked weirdly intrigued.

“So,” Ward said slowly, his gaze locking onto Rafe’s. “You’re serious about her then? Serious enough for me to meet her?”

Rafe swallowed. “Yeah. I am.”

“Alright. Let’s make that happen then.”

He blinked, completely thrown off. “What?”

Ward’s response was calm, almost too calm. “If you’re serious about this girl, then it’s time I meet her.”

Rafe just stared at him, unsure if he’d heard that right. His dad wasn’t angry? Was he impressed? Or was this some kind of setup?

“You... wanna meet her?” he repeated, like he needed the words to make sense.

His dad’s expression wasn’t the usual stone wall of judgment. “I’ve always said if it’s not serious, don’t bother bringing her around. You’re saying she’s important to you, right?”

“Uh, yeah…” Rafe’s voice trailed off, still half-expecting this to somehow turn into a lecture or some Ward Cameron test. “She is.”

He nodded, like he was already planning it. “Alright then, set it up. I’ll meet her.”

He couldn’t tell if this was a win or if he’d just walked into something he wasn’t prepared for. His whole plan was to avoid this exact conversation. He looked across the table, expecting Sarah to be just as blindsided as he was, but she was still stuck on one detail.

“You’re dating a Pogue,” she muttered, shaking her head like she couldn’t get past that fact. “I just… wow.”

Rafe shot her a glare. “Get over it.”

Weezie, always the little instigator, grinned. “She was cool.”

“Okay, so… when do I get to meet her?” Sarah’s brown eyes widened with curiosity. “Is she cute? What’s she like?”

This wasn’t how he thought the night was going to go at all.

An hour later, he was lying in bed, staring at his phone, his mind still spinning from dinner. He pulled up your contact, hesitating for a second before hitting the FaceTime button. The screen flashed for a moment, and then there you were, all cozy in your own bed, unaware of what was about to hit.

“Hi baby,” you chirped, clearly happy to see him, “What’s up? You look stressed.”

Rafe rubbed his face, letting out a long breath. “Yeah, well, uh—something happened at dinner tonight.”

Your face scrunched up in confusion, tilting the phone closer to you. “What? Did Sarah say something dumb again?”

“Nah, worse,” he muttered. “Weezie... Weezie kinda let it slip. About us.”

Your eyes widened immediately. “Wait, what? She told them?!”

“Yeah,” he said, letting out a low chuckle at the memory of the whole dinner spiraling out of control. “Just dropped it casually like it was no big deal. Sarah freaked out, and my dad—" He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. “He wants to meet you.”

For a second, you didn’t say anything. You just blinked, processing his words.

“Wait... Ward Cameron wants to meet me? As in, your dad?”

“Yeah,” He mumbled, almost sheepishly. “He’s all, ‘If you’re serious, I should meet her,’ or some shit. Like it’s no big deal.”

You sat up straight, your heart racing. “Rafe, that is a big deal! What the hell do you mean he wants to meet me?!” Your voice rose, panic starting to take over. “Oh my God, I didn’t even think about having to meet your dad. I figured we’d just— I don’t know—figure it out later!”

Rafe winced, knowing this would freak you out. He tried to keep his voice calm, even though he wasn’t exactly calm himself. “Baby, it’s not like tomorrow or anything. We can plan it out.”

But you were already spiraling. “Your dad’s gonna take one look at me— What if he hates me? What if he tells you I’m not worth it, and then—” you paused, your voice breaking slightly, “What if you start to believe him?”

His stomach clenched at your words. He sat up, the phone now held closer to his face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. What are you even talking about?”

You bit your lip, your thoughts running wild. “I mean... what if he convinces you that I’m not good enough? What if you start seeing me differently? You know how your dad is—he could talk you out of this, talk you out of us.”

Rafe shook his head, almost angry that you’d even think that way. “Are you serious right now? No way in hell is that happening. I don’t give a shit what my dad thinks. You’re the one I’m with because I want to be with you.”

You sighed, your nerves still rattled. “But what if he tries to get in your head? You always talk about how much pressure he puts on you. What if he—”

He cut you off, his voice firm, assertive. “Look, I’m serious about you. I told him that tonight. It doesn’t matter what he says, because you’re the one I love. No one’s changing my mind about that. Not even Ward fucking Cameron.” His eyes softened a little. “I already met your sister. This is just the next step, yeah? It’s us. We’re solid.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

He hated this—hated that the idea of meeting his dad was making you feel like this, but he couldn’t blame you. Ward was intimidating even on his best days, and this was not going to be one of those days.

“You’re not gonna throw up,” he said, trying to calm you down, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure you or himself.

You shook your head, running a hand through your bed hair. “What if I say something dumb? What if I screw up, and he hates me, and then everything goes downhill? I’m not, like... your people. You know that.”

His jaw clenched, hating the way you thought of yourself like that. “Don’t say that,” he scolded, “You’re exactly my people. You’re my person.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No ‘buts.’” He cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Listen to me. My dad’s opinion doesn’t change anything. He’s not gonna make me see you any differently. You’re still gonna be the same girl I’m crazy about, no matter what he says or doesn’t say. Got it?”

You took a deep breath, trying to believe him. “It’s just—I don’t know, Rafe. I don’t fit into that world, and what if he sees that right away?”

He hated that you felt this way, hated that his dad had this kind of power hanging over the two of you. “You don’t need to fit into his world, okay? You fit into mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Your lips quivered, and for a second, he thought you might start crying. He could feel the panic rolling off of you through the phone, and it hit him hard—he hadn’t realized just how terrified you were of this.

“What if he really doesn’t think I’m good enough for you?” You whispered, almost like you were scared to say it out loud.

Rafe’s heart clenched, and without thinking, he shot up out of bed, pacing his room like he needed to burn off the frustration

“You’re more than good enough for me.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away for a second like you were trying to compose yourself.

“I just don’t want him to—I don’t know? To make you feel like you have to choose between me and your family.”

He stopped pacing, his grip tightening on the phone. “If it ever came to that? I’d choose you. Every fucking time.”

You blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. “Rafe—”

“I mean it,” he said, cutting you off again. “I’m not letting my dad, or anyone else, get in the way. I don’t care if he’s Ward Cameron or the president of the United States. He’s not gonna run my life, and he sure as hell isn’t gonna ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you. And nothing my dad says or thinks is gonna change that. Ever.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall over. Not because you were scared anymore, but because of him. Because of how much he cared. How much he loved you, even when you were spiraling.

He was staring at the screen, concern written all over his face, brows furrowing, "Wait, are you crying?" His voice softened, like he wasn’t sure how to handle you like this, but he knew he wanted to. He needed to.

You quickly rubbed at your eyes, laughing to try and cover up the tears, "No, no, I just— got something in my eye." Your laugh was shaky, and you knew you weren’t fooling anyone.

He didn’t say anything for a second, just watched you with that loving look of his that made you want to bawl your eyes out even harder. He saw right through you. He always did.

“You know,” he finally said, “You don’t have to worry about all that shit. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

And that’s when you almost lost it. Because wow. No one had ever said something like that to you before, not until him. Never like that, like he really meant it, like you were the most important thing in his world.

You sniffed, trying to laugh it off again, but it just came out all soft and broken. “I’m just—” you paused, not even sure how to explain how you were feeling, “I’m not used to this. Like, you... caring this much. Loving me like this.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and he leaned a little closer to the screen, “I’m not stopping.”

“I know. I love you too.”

It was real now.

Meeting the Camerons wasn’t something you could avoid anymore, but at least you knew you had Rafe, a hundred percent.

“You still freaking out?” he asked, though his tone was lighter, like he knew the answer.

“Yeah,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’ll get over it.”

“Good,” he said, his smirk returning. “Because I kinda need you around.”

“Kinda?”

He grinned, dimples framing his face, “Okay, a lot.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Rafe hadn’t said a word the entire drive, which was already freaking you out more than you wanted to admit. His knuckles were white, tight around the steering wheel. His jaw was locked, teeth grinding together and you’d caught him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye at least three times in the past minute.

Your heart was hammering, stomach in knots, and you were starting to wonder if you might actually throw up by the time you got to Tannyhill.

“Baby, seriously, if we crash into a tree ‘cause you’re having a silent meltdown over there, that’s not gonna help either of us.”

He blinked, finally loosening his grip on the wheel. “Sorry. I’m just—fuck, I don’t know.”

You tried to smile, but it felt weak. “Yeah, me too. I feel like I’m walking into some kind of corporate job interview I didn’t apply for.”

Rafe snorted. “Yeah, except the CEO’s a control freak and the company’s, I don’t know, cursed or something.”

That made you laugh, a short, nervous laugh, but still. You appreciated the attempt at humor, even if the nerves in your stomach weren’t going anywhere.

“So, uh... game plan?” you asked, half-joking, but mostly serious. “Am I supposed to shake his hand? Call him Mr. Cameron? Or is it more of a ‘hey, what’s up, Ward?’ situation?”

Rafe finally cracked a grin, shaking his head. “God, I don’t know. Don’t call him Ward; that might send him into some power trip. But definitely don’t call him Mr. Cameron either, ‘cause that’ll just make it weird.”

“Great, so I’ll just go with ‘Hi’ and hope I don’t trip over my own feet.”

“Perfect,” Rafe deadpanned, glancing over at you, “Just be yourself. He’s not as bad as you think. Mostly.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Mostly?”

Rafe’s lips pressed together. "He's not gonna throw you out or anything. And if he does, we’re leaving together. But Sarah...”

“Sarah,” you groaned, leaning your head back against the seat. You’d barely met Sarah, and from what you could tell, she wasn’t exactly thrilled about Rafe’s choice in girlfriends.

“Just don’t let her get to you,” Rafe muttered, his hand reaching for yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “She’s just mad because I used to make John B’s life a living hell.”

“Define hell.”

Rafe smirked, his fingers still interlaced with yours. "I mean, I threw him off a boat once," he said casually, like that wasn’t one of the most insane things you’d ever heard.

You blinked. “You what?”

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road, like it was no big deal. “He was running his mouth about me."

You stared at him in disbelief, “And you think I’m the one who needs to be worried?”

He laughed, finally loosening up a little, “Relax, baby. I’m not throwing you off anything.”

“So she’s not mad about me? She’s just mad about the double standard?”

“Yeah.”

That made it a little easier to breathe.

The silence settled back in for a moment as you pulled up to Tannyhill. The sight of the massive estate took your breath away. You couldn’t help but feel like you were entering a completely different world now that you were here—a world that wasn’t exactly built for you.

Rafe must’ve noticed the way your hands gripped the edge of your seat a little tighter because he let out a long breath.

“Hey, it’s just a dinner. We eat, we talk, we leave. It’s not like they’re gonna put you under a microscope.”

You gave him a side-eye. “You know, I wasn’t nervous until you said that.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Shit. Sorry.”

The car came to a stop, and you could see the flicker of lights through the windows of the house. The pressure in your chest was building, but Rafe turned toward you, his hand cupping your face.

“Listen,” his blue eyes locked on yours, “I don’t care what happens in there. You’ve got me. If anyone makes you feel like you don’t belong, we’re out. Promise.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you leaned into his touch. “Okay.”

“I’m serious,” he continued, stroking his thumb across your cheek. “One word and I’ll get you out.”

You kissed his palm, “I know.”

“Okay.” he muttered, then pulled away, giving one final deep breath before turning off the ignition. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both stepped out of the car, Rafe knocked once, and within seconds, it swung open to reveal Sarah standing there in all her kook-with-pogue -tendencies glory.

“Well, well,” she smirked, eyes narrowing at you two.

Rafe shot her a sharp look, “Knock it off.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping aside to let you in. “I’m kidding. Kinda.” She turned her attention to you, and you could feel her sizing you up, looking completely unfazed as she led the two of you further into the house. "Dad’s in the study. He’s waiting."

Your heart skipped a beat at that. Waiting? What did that even mean?

Rafe must have felt your nerves spike because he reached for your hand again, squeezing it as you followed Sarah down the long hallway.

The house felt even bigger on the inside, with its high ceilings and fancy decor. You felt out of place. But then you peeked over at Rafe, and something about the way he held your hand made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you did belong.

At least to him.

Sarah finally stopped outside a large wooden door, turning to you with an exaggerated sigh.

"Good luck.”

Rafe hesitated for a second, his hand still gripping yours tightly. "You ready?"

No. Absolutely not. But you nodded anyway. "Yeah. Let’s do this."

He pushed open the door, and there he was.

Ward Cameron, sitting behind a massive oak desk, looking as powerful and intimidating as ever. His eyes flicked up from whatever paperwork he was working on, settling on you with a sharp intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Rafe," Ward said, his voice smooth and controlled, before turning his gaze to you. "And you must be... her."

You swallowed hard, trying to muster up the courage to say something, anything. "Yeah, that’s me. Hi, Mr. Cameron."

You immediately regretted it. Mr. Cameron? It sounded too formal, too awkward.

Ward didn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, he looked amused. He stood up, coming around the desk to get a better look at you. His eyes scanned over you briefly, but it wasn’t the cold, judgmental look you’d expected. Instead, it felt more like... curiosity.

"So, you’re the girl my son’s been so serious about."

You nodded, wanting to be anywhere but stuck in that claustrophobic room despite its size, "That’s me.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looked between you and Rafe, “I hear you’re working at the Country Club.”

It wasn’t really a question—more like he already knew everything about you. Oh. You didn’t like that, knowing that someone else was snooping around for dirt on you. At least it sounded like that was the plan.

You managed a nod, trying to keep your voice from sounding too hushed. “Yeah, I’ve been working there for a while.”

His expression didn’t really give anything away, but the way he looked at you, was unnerving. Rafe’s hand squeezed yours, reminding you that, no matter what, he had your back. One word and you were out.

“Good,” Ward finally said, “I like that you work.” He sneaked a stern look at your boyfriend before turning his attention back to you. “He could use some of that drive.”

Wait. What?

You hadn’t expected that. You thought maybe he’d grill you or give you the whole ‘what are your intentions with my son’routine. But no, he was... complimenting you? It had to be some kind of set up.

“Dad—” Rafe started, clearly not expecting that either, but Ward cut him off with a raised hand.

“No, seriously.” His eyes were back on you, and there was almost a smile there, like he was actually impressed. “It’s a good quality. I respect people who work hard, people who don’t just expect things to be handed to them. And from what I’ve heard, you’re one of those people.”

You didn’t even know what to say.

Ward Cameron? Complimenting you? Was this real life? You’d walked in here prepared for a full-on interrogation, and instead, he was... encouraging.

“I just hope some of that rubs off on my son,” Ward added, shooting Rafe a look, and you swore there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “He could stand to work a little harder. He’s always been a bit lazy.”

You bit back a laugh, glancing over at Rafe. He was glaring at his dad, but you could tell he wasn’t really pissed, just...embarrassed. You found it endearing.

“Thanks, Dad,” Rafe mumbled.

“I like it. Maybe you’ll inspire him to work a little harder.”

You blinked. Wait, was this actually happening? Did Ward Cameron, of all people, just say he liked you? This whole night felt like it was gonna be a disaster, and now... maybe it wasn’t gonna be so bad. You hoped so.

You really wanted his family to like you, you felt like you owned him at least trying.

“You know," Ward began, "I wasn't always the man you see standing here today." His voice took on a reflective tone, and you could sense the change in the atmosphere as he prepared to tell his story. "I grew up on the Cut, just like a lot of those kids you see around he, like you,” Ward said, almost casually, but you could tell it wasn’t a casual thing for him. "Back then, I didn’t have much. But I worked my ass off to get out of that place. I didn’t have a name, no wealth behind me. What I have now? I built that from the ground up. No one handed me anything."

Rafe, who had been quiet up until now, let out a small, barely audible sigh, shifting uncomfortably beside you. You took a quick glance at him and caught the unmistakable eye-roll he tried to hide.

Clearly, this wasn’t the first time Ward had given this speech. But at the same time, you could tell he was relieved that his dad wasn’t tearing into you. That had to count for something, right?

Ward, oblivious or perhaps just unfazed by his son’s reaction, continued, his voice gaining momentum like he was giving you some kind of motivational speech. "It wasn’t easy. There were plenty of times when I could’ve given up, but I didn’t. I pushed through, made connections, took risks. That’s how you get ahead. You have to be willing to do whatever it takes. Now look where I am—" He gestured around at the lavish room, the estate itself practically a testament to his success. "I built an empire. Something real. Something that can last."

You nodded politely, unsure if you were supposed to say something. Rafe’s obvious eye-rolling and silent huffs of frustration beside you made it clear that he’d heard all this a hundred times before. He shifted in his seat, crossing his arms, clearly waiting for his dad to wrap it up.

But Ward wasn’t done yet. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The point is," he said, his tone softening a little, "I respect people who are willing to work for what they want. I see that in you. It’s not about where you start—it’s about where you’re going."

Rafe let out a short, quiet breath that you might’ve missed if you weren’t sitting right next to him. He shot you a small, knowing smile, almost like he was apologizing for the speech but also relieved that Ward wasn’t being an asshole.

You squeezed his hand under the table. At least his dad wasn’t tearing you down.

"Thanks, Mr. Cameron," you said, finally finding your voice. "I really appreciate that."

He nodded, seeming satisfied with himself. "Just remember," he added, his voice lowering as if he was giving you some kind of life lesson, "Hard work pays off. You keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll get somewhere. Don’t ever settle, not even for him.”

“Thanks again.”

Rafe looked like he was about to explode from how much he was holding back, but he just gave you a quick wink as if to say, Yeah, this is typical dad, but hey—he likes you, so we’re good.

Ward clapped his hands together, the moment of sincerity quickly passing. "Alright, well, I think dinner’s ready. Shall we?"

He strode ahead, leading the way out of the study and toward the dining room, leaving you and Rafe a few steps behind. The moment he was out of earshot, you looked up at Rave, “You think we’re good?”

He smirked, leaning down slightly to meet your eyes, his tone all teasing. “Baby, I think he might build you a pedestal.”

You couldn’t help but snort, trying to keep your voice down as you followed Ward. “Really? After that ‘self-made empire’ speech?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, giving you a knowing look. “Trust me, if you got through that and he didn’t start questioning your entire existence, you’re golden. The man sees himself in anyone who works hard enough to breathe without permission.”

You bit back a laugh, gripping his hand as you walked down the long hallway. “Yeah, I was getting that vibe.”

His grin grew wider, his thumb skimming over your knuckles. “And look, usually, it’s a full-blown interrogation by now. You’re good.”

You raised your eyebrows, slightly surprised. “Really?”

Rafe nodded. “Oh yeah. Sarah’s brought home guys before and it was... rough.” He shook his head, “He actually likes you. That’s rare.”

Maybe things with the Camerons were actually going to be okay.

324 notes · View notes

rosemariiaa · 1 day

Text

~Lasts Firsts~

pairing: Paige x Azzi

a/n: yes i did lose my mind writing this but i had to! this is also my apology for the last fic.. 🤗 this is pretty long so take your time babe, also some tags @thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @bueckerscore @juspeaks

themes: fluff, teasing

Enjoy!!!

It was barely 8:00 AM when Paige rolled over, her arm draping across the empty space next to her. She blinked into the early morning light, trying to shake off the sleep. She could already hear Azzi in the bathroom, humming softly, the sound so familiar it brought a small smile to her lips.

Last media day together.

The thought lingered like a weight on her chest, bittersweet and heavy. She dragged herself out of bed, feeling that familiar ache in her muscles from practice the day before, and made her way to the bathroom.

Azzi was standing in front of the mirror, twisting one of her curls between her fingers. Paige leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight of her girlfriend’s morning routine—how peaceful she looked, even though they both knew today was going to be pretty emotional.

“Ready for the chaos?” Paige mumbled, voice still hoarse from sleep.

Azzi turned her head, giving Paige that small smile she always had when she knew Paige was nervous about something. “You asking me or yourself?”

Paige snorted, stepping closer until she was leaning against the counter beside Azzi. “Both, I guess.”

They didn’t say much after that, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Paige stared at her reflection for a moment, the weight of everything finally sinking in. Last media day, last season. After this? The WNBA.

“You think we’ll survive?” Paige asked quietly, her tone light but not really joking. Azzi met her eyes in the mirror, and for a second, Paige saw all the emotions they hadn’t really said out loud. There was excitement, sure, but underneath it was that uncertainty, the looming unknown of what came next.

“Paige,” Azzi said, her voice softer than usual. “You’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna be fine. You’ve been ready for this.”

Paige didn’t respond at first, just dropped her gaze to the sink. She’d been thinking about this a lot more than she’d let on. The WNBA wasn’t just another level—it was the next chapter of her life. And as much as she knew she wanted it, there was a part of her that was terrified.

“What if I’m not, though?” Paige’s voice came out quieter than she meant. “What if I mess this up? I mean… WNBA? That’s a whole new ballgame.”

Azzi turned around fully now, leaning her hip against the counter. She reached out, gently grabbing Paige’s wrist, thumb brushing over her skin in that way that always calmed her down.

“You’ve been playing against pros for years, P. You’re gonna go in there and do exactly what you do best. And… don’t forget you’ll be up against Diana, you’re probably gonna block her shots and then she’ll talk all kinds of shit you know how she gets,” Azzi teased, trying to pull Paige out of her thoughts.

Paige couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension in her chest easing just a little. “I can’t wait for Diana to “hate” me.” Azzi smirked. “Just don’t embarrass her too much.”

“Oh, I will. But not before embarrassing your Aces,” Paige shot back, her grin widening as Azzi’s eyes narrowed in mock warning.

“Excuse me?” Azzi gasped dramatically. “You better not mess with my team. If you even think about beating them, I’ll fly out there and beat you up.”

Paige laughed, leaning into Azzi, her forehead resting against hers. “You’re cute when you threaten me.”

“Not a threat, babe,” Azzi replied, her smile softening as she tilted her head just slightly, brushing her nose against Paige’s. “I’m dead serious. Leave the Aces alone.”

Paige wrapped her arms loosely around Azzi’s waist, finally letting herself breathe. For a second, she could forget about the future. It was just the two of them again, standing in their shared apartment, holding on to each other before the world outside came rushing in.

———-

By the time they arrived in the gym, the chaos was already in full swing, with half the girls making tiktok’s and going crazy per usual. The cameras, the bright lights, the reporters—it was all routine by now, but this time, everything felt heightened. It was their last one. The final first.

Paige watched as Azzi stepped in front of the camera, her expression automatically settling into her “game face,” the serious one she always had before interviews. Paige stood to the side, arms crossed, watching with amusement.

“You look like you’re about to kill somebody,” she muttered under her breath as she moved to stand beside Azzi for their photos. Azzi shot her a look. “I’m just focused.”

“Focused on terrifying everyone,” Paige teased, nudging her with her shoulder.

Azzi tried not to smile, but it broke through anyway, and Paige could feel the tension between them melt a little as they fell into the easy rhythm of their chemistry. They took their usual photos, Paige throwing her arm around Azzi’s shoulders, and their traditional piggyback pose, the same way they’ve done a thousand times before. But this time, the air between them felt different—heavier, full of all the memories they shared.

After the cameras stopped flashing, they hung back for a bit, watching the rest of the team get their moments in front of the lens.

“This feels… weird, right?” Paige said, her voice a little quieter now.

Azzi just nodded. “Yeah. But… it’s also kinda nice, knowing we did this together.”

Paige looked at her, her chest tightening with that familiar feeling of bittersweetness. “You’re gonna make me cry.” Azzi gave her a teasing smirk. “That’s my plan.”

———-

The media day madness finally wrapped up, and before Azzi could even think about unwinding, Paige had dragged her back home with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“What are you planning, Bueckers?” Azzi asked, standing in the doorway of their apartment, her arms crossed. “You’ll see. Just get dressed,” Paige said with a grin, shooing her toward the bedroom.

Azzi rolled her eyes but went along with it, emerging a few minutes later in the white tube top with Paige’s pink cover-up and those low-waisted jeans that Paige always went quiet about. She gave a little twirl, watching Paige’s eyes darken slightly.

“Stole my clothes again, huh?” Paige asked, leaning against the wall, trying to look unfazed.

Azzi smirked. “You love it.”

Paige just shook her head. “Get in the car, weirdo.”

They spent the car ride to the restaurant in comfortable silence, the only sound being Paige’s playlist—songs she’d carefully picked over the years, ones that always made her think of Azzi. At some point, Mitski came on, and Azzi hummed softly to the tune, stealing glances at Paige, who was drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

“So, P,” Azzi started casually, “how nervous are you to play against Diana?”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m not nervous are ut playing against Diana. I’m nervous about her kicking my ass after I block her.” Azzi laughed, the sound light and warm. “She probably will. I’ll be sitting courtside, watching her destroy you.”

“Thanks for the support babe,” Paige muttered, but she was smiling. Azzi always knew how to pull her out of her head when she got too wrapped up in her own thoughts.

“And just remember,” Azzi said, her tone a little more serious but still playful, “if you mess with the Aces, I will find you madison.”

Paige threw her a sideways glance. “Oh, I know. You won’t have to find me—I’ll be waiting for you.”

Azzi grinned. “You better be.”

———-

When they got to the restaurant, Paige made sure they sat in a booth—one where she could sit across from Azzi and just look at her. It wasn’t the most subtle thing in the world, but Paige didn’t care. Azzi caught on, of course, giving her a raised eyebrow.

“What? I just like looking at you,” Paige said with a shrug, grinning like she hadn’t just been caught.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “You’re ridiculous.”

They were mid-conversation when the waiter came over, a girl with a bright smile who seemed way too interested in Azzi. Paige noticed immediately, her smile dropping slightly as the woman complimented Azzi’s hair, her outfit, even her smile. Azzi, as usual, was completely oblivious.

“Thanks,” Azzi said, flashing the girl a casual smile, but Paige could see what was going on, and it annoyed her just enough to act on it.

Without a second thought, Paige reached across the table, placing her hand firmly over Azzi’s. The waiter glanced down, her smile faltering as she realized the situation, quickly taking their order and backing off with a stiff nod.

Azzi blinked, glancing down at their hands before looking back up at Paige with an amused expression. “Was that jealousy?” Paige scoffed. “No, that was me stopping her from embarrassing herself.”

Azzi grinned, squeezing Paige’s hand. “Uh-huh. Sure, Paige.”

After dinner, the laughter between them hadn’t stopped. Even as they waved goodbye to their server, still teasing each other about that moment of jealousy, the warmth between them stayed, making the whole night feel like a dream.

Azzi didn’t even bother pulling out her card when the check arrived. The second she started reaching for her wallet, Paige shot her a look, the kind of look that said, don’t even think about it. Azzi had seen that look so many times before and just grinned, leaning back in her seat as Paige effortlessly snatched the check, sliding her own card inside before Azzi even got a chance to protest.

“Every time?” Azzi asked, her tone half-amused, half-resigned.

Paige just shrugged, a cocky smile on her lips. “I like spoiling you. What can I say?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the truth was she loved it too. It was a Paige thing—doing little things like this without asking, always showing she cared in her own way.

After they walked out of the restaurant, Paige naturally slipped her arm around Azzi’s waist like she always did. It wasn’t even a conscious move anymore; it was just how Paige was. Her hand rested comfortably against Azzi’s side, pulling her a little closer as they walked down the quiet street. Azzi leaned into her touch, feeling the warmth from Paige’s body and the comfort that always came with being this close.

Paige’s grip was gentle but firm, protective in a way that Azzi had always loved. It was something Paige did, even when she didn’t realize it—holding her close, like she was making sure Azzi knew she was always there, no matter what. It made Azzi smile, thinking about how many times Paige had held her like this over the years, whether after a tough game, during quiet moments between them, or just walking down the street like this.

They kept walking, laughing softly, the cool night air brushing against their faces, but neither of them seemed to notice. Everything felt easy between them, and Paige, in her usual way, kept the conversation light. Azzi could tell Paige was doing it on purpose, making her laugh to keep them from thinking too much about all the changes on the horizon.

They were about halfway to the car when Azzi suddenly slowed her pace, and Paige’s arm tightened slightly around her waist, glancing over with a curious look.

“You okay?” Paige asked, her voice casual but her gaze full of affection.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She stopped, turning toward Paige and stepping in closer. Paige’s arm never left her waist, holding her in place like she always did, her body warm against Azzi’s side. Azzi stared at Paige for a long moment, just taking her in—the messy hair, the soft smile, the way she was always so present, so hers.

“I love you,” Azzi said suddenly, her voice soft but full of all the emotion she had been holding in. It wasn’t planned—it just came out, like it had been sitting on her chest, waiting for the right moment.

Paige blinked, a smile tugging at her lips as her eyes softened. Her hand on Azzi’s waist tightened slightly, pulling her just a bit closer. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice gentle, almost like she couldn’t believe how lucky she was to hear those words.

They both stood there for a second, letting the words hang between them. Then, without thinking, Azzi reached up and cupped Paige’s face, pulling her in for a kiss. Paige didn’t hesitate, meeting her halfway, her lips soft and warm as they kissed in the middle of the street, the world around them fading away.

Paige’s arm stayed wrapped securely around Azzi’s waist as their kiss deepened, and it felt like everything else just melted away. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was slow and full of love, the kind of kiss that felt like a promise.

Azzi could feel Paige’s heartbeat against her own, steady and strong, and she knew, in that moment, that no matter what happened, no matter how far apart they might be in the future, they’d always have this. They’d always have each other.

When they finally pulled back, Paige’s forehead rested against Azzi’s, their breaths mixing in the cool night air. Paige smiled, her hand gently caressing Azzi’s side. “You’re stuck with me, you know that?” she whispered, her voice teasing but full of love.

Azzi grinned, her thumb tracing along Paige’s cheek. “Forever.”

———-

yeaa…that was a lot and so darn cute 🥹

#pazzi #rosie fics #paige x azzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #rosie moots

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 1 day

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hii I don’t know if you are doing requests but if you are could you please do one with toto Wolff x wife reader where she’s just given birth and her in-laws make fun of her or give her mean comments and she gets all upset but doesn’t tell toto to keep the family peace but he finds out and gets a tad upset at her for hiding it but he rips his family a new one please please!!

Unconditional Support

Word Count: 999

Pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader

Summary: Y/n shares her vulnerability after giving birth, revealing the hurtful comments from Toto's family that make her question her worth, prompting Toto to confront them with fierce protectiveness

I don't speak Polish so if something isn't right pleas let me know so i can change it.

Also my requests are still open

______________________________________________________________

Toto stood at the window, the hospital room filled with a serene quiet. You rocked the baby gently in your arms, trying to focus on the peaceful moment, but your mind kept drifting back to the things his family had said. Every comment felt like a dagger, cutting deeper than you’d let yourself admit. You’d spent so much time second-guessing your own reactions, wondering if you were being too sensitive—just like your ex-friends and ex-boyfriend had always claimed.

But this felt different. You had just given birth. You were vulnerable, exposed, and instead of support, all you got was veiled judgment.

Toto turned around, sensing your unease. He crossed the room in a few strides, sitting beside you on the bed, his hand resting on your knee. "What’s wrong?" he asked softly, his dark eyes filled with concern. "You’re not yourself."

You tried to smile, to push it down, but the weight of it all was pressing on you too hard. "I don’t know," you whispered. "I don’t want to make it a big deal. Maybe I’m overthinking things. Maybe I’m just being sensitive."

Toto frowned, his grip on your knee tightening slightly. "Sensitive about what?"

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. But the memory of Eva’s voice, sharp and critical, wouldn’t leave your mind.

"Your mom…" you started slowly, "she said, *‘Ach, du siehst müde aus’* (Oh, you look tired), and I know I *am* tired, but the way she said it—it wasn’t just concern. It was like I was already failing somehow. Like I should be doing more, looking better. I’ve just had a baby, and instead of asking how I feel, she’s telling me I look bad."

Toto’s jaw clenched, but you continued, the words pouring out now.

"And then Katharina, she didn’t even say congratulations before she looked me up and down and said, *‘You’ll want to lose the baby weight quickly, right? There’s a Pilates instructor in Vienna…’* I know I’ve gained weight—of course I have, I just carried a child—but she made me feel like it’s a race to get rid of it. Like my worth is tied to how fast I look ‘normal’ again."

Your voice wavered, but you pushed on. "And Margit—she took the baby right out of my hands and said, *‘Das ist nicht richtig. Soll ich es dir zeigen?’* (That’s not right. Should I show you?) I was trying my best, and she acted like I didn’t even know how to hold my own baby. I already feel like I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, and she just made me feel… useless."

Toto stood up, his face dark with anger. He started pacing, his fists clenching and unclenching. "Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?" he demanded, his voice sharp. "Why did you let them say those things to you?"

"I didn’t want to cause problems," you said quietly, your gaze dropping to the floor. "I thought… maybe I was just seeing it wrong, like I always do. Maybe I was interpreting everything too negatively again. But the more I think about it, the more I realize… it wasn’t okay. They made me feel small. Like I wasn’t good enough."

Toto stopped pacing, his expression hardening. "You were right. They were out of line. I’m not letting this slide."

Before you could stop him, he grabbed his phone, his fingers flying over the screen as he found his mother’s number.

"Toto, wait," you pleaded, "don’t make this worse—"

But his face was set, determined. He brought the phone to his ear, speaking in rapid Polish as soon as his mother picked up. "Mamo, musimy porozmawiać." (Mom, we need to talk.)

You could hear the faint sound of his mother’s voice on the other end, but Toto’s expression didn’t soften.

"Nie, nie później. Teraz." (No, not later. Now.)

He glanced at you, his eyes blazing with a protective fury. "Dlaczego mówili takie rzeczy do Y/n?" (Why did they say those things to Y/n?) His voice was cold, demanding answers.

You watched, feeling torn between relief and anxiety as Toto continued to tear into his mother over the phone. You couldn’t understand everything, but the tone was unmistakable—he was furious, and he wasn’t going to let this slide. He paced back and forth, his voice low and dangerous as he spoke in quick bursts of Polish, likely recounting every hurtful comment you had shared with him.

After a few moments, his voice softened slightly, but his anger was still clear. "Nie obchodzi mnie, czy miały dobre intencje. Nie pozwolę, żeby tak traktowali moją żonę." (I don’t care if they meant well. I won’t let them treat my wife like that.)

He paused, listening to his mother’s response, before he sighed, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. "To musi się skończyć. Teraz." (This has to stop. Now.)

He hung up the phone, his face still tense, and turned back to you. "I’ve told them," he said, his voice softer now but still firm. "They won’t be speaking to you like that again."

You looked down, guilt flooding through you. "I didn’t mean for this to turn into a big thing…"

Toto knelt beside the bed, taking your hand in his. "It’s not your fault. They were out of line, and you deserve better. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner."

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. "I just didn’t want to cause problems. I was so scared I was overreacting."

Toto cupped your face gently, his thumb wiping away a tear that slipped down your cheek. "You’re not overreacting. You’re not being too sensitive. You’re my wife, the mother of our child, and no one gets to make you feel less than the incredible woman you are. Not even my family."

You let out a shaky breath, finally feeling the weight of their comments lift just a little. You had doubted yourself, but Toto was making sure you’d never have to doubt him.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #fluff #toto wolff #fanfic #reader insert #fanfiction #toto wolff x reader #formula one #formula racing #formula 1 #mercedes f1

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lucimaaie · 2 days

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we pt2 ✧.* tlou

pairing - santa barbara!ellie x reader

summary - you ask ellie one of the questions you'd saved for later.

a/n - wrote this with sick brain so if sum make sense im srry, fluff, also i got a pt 3 & 4 coming cause i randomly got motivated

part 1

a couple of nights later, you and ellie had got closer in the non-physical sense. it practically took a game of twenty questions to get her to open up, but she promised she was trying.

she distracted herself with always touching you in some way. choosing to focus on the way your skin felt beneath her fingertips rather than fully showing herself to you.

“were you serious about moving south?” ellie’s hands froze their motions on your arms. she angled her head up to look down at you, though the lack of light didn’t help her see you any better. still, she could imagine the inquisitive look in your eyes.

she didn’t say anything for a while, taking in a big gust of air through her nostrils and letting it out slowly. “yeah. think i was.”

“we could..we could do it.” the shifting of the sheets cut you off as you turned around on your stomach.

ellie looked at the ceiling as your hesitant sentence. open, be open. she reminded herself but the words just made her limbs tingly. she was okay, she didn’t need to be scared. you lived in the middle of nowhere and you how to handle yourself. you were safe, she was safe. everything was fine.

she shook her head. “don’t have to. it was just a thought.” ellie patted your waist before lifting you up as much as she could, signaling she needed the pressure of you on her.

her hands fell to your thighs as she could feel you look at her. she soon started to regret it as you didn’t pull you eyes away from her. you were serious about this, learning her. “it might take too long..it’s dangerous.”

“do you want to do it?”

she didn’t want to you that she was still afraid. afraid of making this even more official. there was a we, you established that, but she wasn’t exactly sure you knew what you were in for. last time she settled with someone, it didn’t last very long and though there was no abby, she’d find some excuse to pull away from you. cause she wasn’t supposed to be here with you, lovingly caressing your skin. loving you.

“ellie.” your cold hands cupping her cheeks, snapped her out of her inner monologue. she hummed, leaning into your touch. “remember what we said?”

that damn word again. and she knew you were aware of your effect on her. this was the only time you’d gently guilt her into answering questions she was adamant on avoiding cause it hurt to much to care.

“don’t think i do, peaches.”

“you don’t get to distract me with cute nicknames right we’re having a serious conversation.” you gently pinched her cheeks, squishing them between your hands. she was resistant to the laugh you were trying to pull from her. she snuck her fingers under your shirtt and wiggled them against your skin.

“and you do?” she cheesed at the carefree giggles that came from your mouth. when she finally relented, she moved you back next to her and laid on her side to face you. her face grew serious as she watched you catch your breath. she never would’ve imagined seeing that smile when you first met. the inability to stop staring made her groan as she laid on her back. “i love you.” she said quietly.

she closed her eyes, missing the way your face dropped in a second. you say up on your elbow, then on your knees as you looked at her. “look at me.” she wanted to resist but that vulnerability in your voice made it hard. ellie opened her eyes, landing on the vague figure of your face above hers. “say it again.”

“i love you.” ellie couldn’t say anything but that as she stared up at you. “i love you.” she said again. “just know that before you decide to go across the country with me.” she as if it would make you leave. that it was too much to have someone as broken as her in love with and dependent on you. she would be devastated if that happened, absolutely. she had staked her existence on being around you and with you. she had no idea what she would do if she was left alone. she bit her lip to stop it from trembling at the thought.

she could see the way your chest stuttered in rising and falling. her hands were light in finding yours. her eyes flicked back to you, waiting for your response. “say it again, for me. please.” she swore you were as nervous as her the way you seemed stubborn on accepting she loved you.

“not until you say it first.”

“damn it, el. i’m not playing. i actually love you and if you’re joking-“

“i’m not.” she said quickly, watching as you got out of the bed to sit at the edge. “i love you and i want to move with you.” she wanted to put a hundred layers of tape on her mouth, keep herself from messing with your expectations. how she wouldn’t be a good lover. she wasn’t. she barely talked as much as she used to, beyond hushed praises in the middle of the night and directions like “c’mere.” and “stay close.” “somewhere warm, just us.” she bit her lip, signaling she was done now. no more talking.

“tomorrow.” you looked at her as she rose out of bed to sit next to you. “that way you can’t take any of it back.”

“i don’t want to, peach.” she said honestly. “so tomorrow..south.” she tried not to think of the dangers or the lack of a definitive plan. none of it mattered right now. “shit.” she said breathily, gripping the mattress underneath tightly. her fingers were like rusted metal when you pried them from the cushion, pressing your lips to them. “no backing out. you hear me?”

“yes ma’am.”

thank you for reading!

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #tlou part 2 #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou #santa barbara ellie #ellie williams fluff #ellie imagine

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moonsandmobilityaids · 1 day

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Muggle Pills

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: The boys learn what your pills do. Warnings: Mentions of seizures, depression and suicidal thoughts Series Masterlist

You sit cross-legged on the plush carpet of your bedroom floor, a small pile of pill boxes scattered around you. Your fingers move with practiced ease as you sort the pills into their respective compartments in a weekly divider—Monday through Sunday, morning, noon, and night.

It's a routine task, one that offers a strange sense of solace amidst the chaos of everything else. Plus, it saves you from the struggle of prying open blister packs every day.

Around you, the Marauders lounge about as if this were any other lazy afternoon. Sirius flips idly through a Quidditch magazine, his brows furrowing at an article about the latest racing broom. James lies sprawled out across your bed, tossing a Quaffle up and down while he debates strategy. Remus sits quietly in a corner, engrossed in a book, a sliver of sunlight illuminating the dust motes dancing around him. Your room has become their second home, just as comfortable and familiar as their dormitory.

They've grown accustomed to these quiet moments together, each occupied with their own thoughts or interests. And yet today, something shifts. A question hangs in the air, unspoken but palpable.

James is the first to break the silence, his voice cutting through the soft hum of activity. "Y/N?" He pauses, catching himself before the words tumble out unchecked. His gaze flickers over to where you sit, still dividing your medication for the week ahead. "Why... why do you take all those? Like, on top of the potions?"

For a moment, time seems to stretch thin, the seconds elongating as you weigh your answer. They've seen you like this before—pills in hand, water glass nearby—but never asked. Not until now. Something about the directness of the question gives you pause, but then you realize: they deserve to know. Especially now, when lines have blurred and friendships have blossomed into something more intimate, more profound.

"Right," you begin, letting out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. Your fingers trace the edge of the first pill box—a small, round tablet that's more crucial to your daily life than any potion or spell could ever be. "This one is for my blood pressure."

James, Sirius and Remus lean in closer, their attention rapt despite the seemingly mundane topic. The significance isn't lost on them; every detail about you feels important now, woven into the fabric of their care.

"It's always been too low," you explain, eyes downcast as if you're sharing some great secret. Perhaps it is, in its own way. An admission of frailty, of the battle you wage within your body each day. "If I don't take this, I get dizzy... faint sometimes."

A flicker of understanding passes across James's face, then Sirius's. They've seen you like that before, pale and unsteady in the corridors during your early years at Hogwarts. At the time, they'd chalked it up to nerves or fatigue—anything but a chronic condition. But now...

"Wait," Sirius says, his voice rough with concern. "Are those fainting spells why you had to go back to the hospital wing so often?"

You nod, a hint of relief washing over you. It's easier than you thought it would be, opening up about this part of your life. Maybe because they listen without judgement, accepting each revelation as another piece of the puzzle that is you.

"Yes. That was before I started taking this," you say, tapping the pill box lightly.

Sirius leans back slightly, processing this new information with a furrowed brow. He opens his mouth to speak again, but Remus beats him to it.

"Do you still feel like you might pass out even with the medication?" His tone is gentle yet probing, respectful of your boundaries but curious all the same.

"Sometimes." You shrug, trying to downplay the gravity of what living with such unpredictability means. "But it's better than before."

Remus nods, storing away this tidbit of knowledge like he does with everything else. He understands, perhaps better than anyone, what it means to navigate the world with a body that doesn't quite cooperate. And while your experiences are vastly different, there's a silent kinship in shared struggle—a bond forged through resilience and endurance.

"Next is this one." Your fingers move to a different compartment, closing around another pill. "It's for my heart rate."

Their brows furrow almost in unison, confusion etching lines across their young faces. You suppose it must be strange for them, hearing about the inner workings of your body when all they've ever known are charms and potions, Quidditch injuries and common colds.

"But isn't that connected to your blood pressure?" James asks, his forehead creased as he tries to make sense of it all.

"In a way, yes," you explain, appreciating his attempt to understand. "But while the first medication helps raise my blood pressure, this one keeps my resting heart rate from getting too high."

"That doesn't sound pleasant," Sirius chimes in, leaning back against the couch with a sigh. Although he's always been more comfortable with banter than serious conversations, there's an earnestness in his expression that speaks volumes about how much he cares.

"It's not something I feel most of the time," you admit, setting the second pill aside. "I don't really notice unless I forget to take it or if I'm especially stressed out. But without it, my heart behaves like I'm running even when I'm sitting still."

You let the implication hang in the air, a testament to the silent battles waged beneath your skin. A hush falls over the room, punctuated only by the occasional crackle of the fire. The boys exchange glances, each processing your revelation in their own way. From the corner of your eye, you see James run a hand through his already messy hair, a gesture betraying his unease.

"I remember once," you begin again, your voice barely above a whisper, "I got a concussion in school, no big deal but headed the A&E to be checked out, and I ended up being admitted because my heart rate was over 180 beats per minute and wouldn't come down. They were so alarmed, kept asking me if I felt okay..."

The memory is vivid, etched into your mind with sharp clarity. The steady beep of monitors, the worried faces of doctors—reminders of just how fragile human bodies can be.

"And did you?" Sirius interrupts, his grey eyes reflecting the flickering flames.

"Did I what?"

"Feel okay? Or were you..." He trails off, unable to finish the sentence. It's clear to see why; the notion of such turmoil within you, unbeknownst to them until now, is unsettling to say the least.

"I mean, my head was killing me but otherwise, I felt fine," you state, "but that doesn't mean it's safe to ignore."

There's a pause as they digest your words, the gravity of what you're sharing settling heavy in the silence. Remus shifts slightly beside you, his gaze thoughtful. As ever, he seems to carry an understanding beyond his years—a quiet wisdom born from living in the shadows.

"When we were in the hospital wing together in first and second year—you know, after the full moon and your... episodes," he begins cautiously, mindful of the delicate territory he's treading on. "Was this part of it? Your heart thing?"

You shake your head, offering him a small smile. "While I did have the heart rate as a problem, that's not why I was there."

Remus nods slowly, absorbing this new information. His brow furrows, not in judgement but in concern—a silent question lingering behind his amber eyes. How much more is there to learn?

"Right," you say, moving on to the next pill. It's a small orange capsule and looks innocuous enough, but its role is no less vital than the others. "This one's for my epilepsy."

"Epilepsy?" James blurts out, his eyes widening at the revelation.

The room goes quiet, save for the crackling of the fire in the background. Sirius and James exchange glances, their expressions mirroring the unease that hangs in the air.

You nod, acknowledging his surprise with a wry smile. "It helps prevent seizures. But it's not foolproof. I regularly have atonic seizures still, they only last a few seconds and nothing needs to be done with those. I don't really have big ones anymore, but when I get sick or stressed—or before I got my implant, when I had my period—I can still have them."

"How long have you..." James starts, then clears his throat, struggling to find the right words. "How long have you had epilepsy?"

"Basically my whole life," you answer simply. "But it's mostly managed now. The stress of exams and assignments can trigger the big seizures sometimes, but most people don't notice."

Sirius frowns, running a hand through his hair. "Have you had any since getting with us?"

"I mean, I've had little ones but not any big ones." You reach over to squeeze his hand reassuringly before letting go. "But during last year, I did have several because of the stress of OWLs."

His grip tightens around yours, concern etched into every line of his face. It's strange, seeing Sirius so unguarded, his usual bravado replaced by raw vulnerability. But then again, nothing about this situation is ordinary.

"You never told us," James says quietly, meeting your gaze with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt. He's not accusing, merely stating a fact—one that seems unthinkable given how close you all are.

"I didn't want to worry you, you were just my friends then," you admit, looking down at your hands. "Besides, you three were so focused on your own exams. You wouldn't have noticed even if you tried."

There's truth to your words, but they do little to ease the guilt that flashes across James's features, and Sirius remains silent, his grey eyes clouded with thought. Both boys are processing this new information, trying to reconcile the image of you—a force of nature, unbowed despite everything—with the reality of your condition.

Remus, who has been listening silently, finally speaks up. "I remember... those nights in the hospital wing when we were younger. I'd be in there because of the full moon, you'd be there because of a seizure…"

"Or worse," you say, almost to yourself. "To be honest, I was also there because no one trusted that I wouldn't try to kill myself, and no healer or doctor would give an 11-year-old birth control for their PMDD. I got the implant at 14, and the seizures went away with my period, as did the temptation to kill myself."

James blinks, stunned into silence. "I never knew any of this," he says at last, his voice barely above a whisper.

"By the time we became proper friends, I already had the implant. There was no reason to tell you about something that was no longer a problem." You give him a reassuring smile.

James nods slowly, although the concern has not entirely left his eyes. Sirius, too, seems pensive as he stares into the fireplace, blowing out a slow breath. Only Remus appears unchanged, his expression calm and thoughtful, as if the revelations were expected.

"Right," you say, taking a deep breath as you reach for the final pill box, a small white container that holds a different kind of lifeline. "This one's my antidepressant."

The change in atmosphere is almost palpable as James and Sirius stiffen beside you. Remus, ever the stoic observer, merely watches.

"Is that... because of everything else?" asks Sirius tentatively, his grey eyes searching yours for answers. You can tell he's treading carefully now, aware that this conversation has ventured into territory far more delicate than any duel or prank gone wrong.

"Yeah," you reply, letting out a long exhale. "It helps manage the lows, but it's not foolproof. Nothing really is."

James's thumb brushes over the back of your hand, tracing patterns there as if trying to will away the pain etched between your words. He doesn't speak, but his silence carries its own weight, heavy with understanding.

"You're not always..." James starts, then stops, uncertain how to phrase his question without sounding insensitive.

"Depressed?" you finish for him, offering a wry smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Not always, no. But when I am... well, let's just say it's better for everyone involved that I have these."

Your fingers tap against the pill bottle, the sound echoing lightly through the room.

A moment passes before Sirius breaks the silence. "And do they work? The pills, I mean." There's a hopeful note to his voice, laced with a quiet desperation that mirrors the way his eyes never leave your face.

"For the most part," you admit. "But like I said, they're not perfect. They help keep things under control, but they don't make my symptoms go away entirely. And some days are harder than others."

You pause, considering how best to explain what living with depression feels like—the relentless heaviness that often threatens to pull you under despite the medication designed to keep you afloat.

"It's like walking through a storm," you say finally. "Most days, the meds are like a good coat—they keep the worst of the rain off. But sometimes the storm gets too strong, and all the coat can do is stop you from getting completely soaked."

"Merlin," James breathes, running a hand through his hair as he processes your words. "Have you been dealing with all this since..."

"Birth?" you supply, nodding once. "Pretty much, yeah."

"Since you were a baby?" Sirius asks, his voice rough with disbelief. "How long have you been taking all these pills?"

"I was little when I was put on the epilepsy meds," you admit, "but the others were added as new conditions developed."

"And what happens if you forget to take one?" James's tone is gentle, but there's an underlying urgency that betrays his worry. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well, missing a dose here and there isn't the end of the world, usually." You shrug, trying to make light of it, though the truth is more complex. "But if I go too long without them... Let's just say it can lead to some serious complications."

Remus watches you, his gaze steady and thoughtful. "It must be exhausting," he says quietly, "keeping track of all this, making sure you're always taking the right thing at the right time. Especially with the potions you use for your pain."

"It's a lot," you agree, not seeing any point in denying it. "But the alternative..." Your voice trails off as you picture yourself without the medication: the pain, the fatigue, the despair. "Let's just say I'm grateful for muggle and wizarding medicine, even if it doesn't fix everything."

The words hang heavy in the air, a quiet echo of your confession ringing in the stillness of the room. The boys sit with straight spines and furrowed brows, each processing what you've just shared in their own way. For a moment, no one speaks, the silence filled only by the crackling fire and the soft patter of rain against the window.

The world of pills and doctors is foreign to them, so far removed from the magical healing they know. They are warriors in their own right, but this is a battle they do not understand, cannot see. It's in the lines that etch deeper into Sirius' forehead, the way his fists clench at his sides—not with anger towards you, but with a burning frustration for an enemy he cannot confront.

"I can't believe we didn't know," James finally breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. It's not an accusation, merely a statement laced with self-reproach. But there's no need for you to respond; the truth of it hangs in the air around you. How could they have known? You've become a master at concealing the extent of your pain, hiding behind masks of normalcy even when your body screamed otherwise.

Sirius shifts slightly, and his voice is quiet when he finally breaks the silence, a note of confusion threading through the words.

"Why didn't you say something before?" It's not an accusation, just a question born from concern and a hint of hurt. Sirius has never liked being left in the dark, especially when it comes to those he cares about.

"I didn't want to worry you," your voice barely rises above a whisper, carrying with it a weight that sinks into the silence of the room. "And knowing doesn't change anything." You glance at them, each face mirroring the gravity of your confession. "It's not like any of you can fix it."

James looks as if he wants to argue, to insist that there must be something they can do. But he remains silent, understanding—for now—the boundaries you've put in place. Relief briefly washes over you, even as you see the frustration flicker in his hazel eyes. James has always been a man of action, someone who leaps forward to shield those he loves from harm. To know there's a wound he can't mend must feel like salt on an open cut.

"I don't need you to fix it," you say gently, guessing his thoughts. "I just need you to understand."

Remus nods, his face softening as he speaks for the first time in a while. "And we do," he says quietly, his voice calm and reassuring. "Or at least, we're starting to."

There's a pause as the four of you absorb this shared understanding, a quiet acknowledgement that hangs in the air like a promise. You can almost feel the shift in the room, tangible and real, a subtle strengthening of the bonds between you. They may not fully comprehend your reality, but they're reaching out, trying to bridge the gap. And for now, at least, it's enough.

The fire dances in the hearth, painting the room with flickering shadows and bathing you all in its comforting glow. For a moment, everything else falls away, leaving only the crackling flames, the soft murmur of conversation, and the sense of peace that seems to settle over the world outside.

You finish sorting your pills into their designated compartments, the rhythm of the task grounding you. The lid of the weekly pill organizer closes with a satisfying click, a small victory against the chaos that often threatens to consume you. It’s a simple act, but in these uncertain times, even the smallest semblance of control is a lifeline.

James, ever the man of action even in stillness, shifts on the bed, leaning closer. His voice is a low rumble, steady and sure. "You know we're here, right?" It's not just a question—it's a tether, a lifeline thrown out to you in the darkness. And it's a promise, one that James Potter has every intention of keeping.

Sirius doesn't let himself be left behind, his own hand reaching out to touch yours lightly. There's something almost reverent in the gesture, as if he's afraid you'll shatter at a heavier touch. "We're not going anywhere." The words hang in the air, solidifying into a pact made of iron will and unyielding loyalty. His grey eyes are hard with resolve, the decision made long before the words had even left his lips: He will stay by your side, through this and whatever comes next.

Remus doesn't say anything more, but the silence that stretches between you is far from empty. His gaze never wavers, each exhale a testament to the quiet vigil he keeps. He understands, perhaps better than anyone, the battles waged in silence, the wars fought within oneself. And though he doesn't speak, his presence is a constant reassurance—there, always there, offering strength when yours threatens to wane.

#james potter x reader #poly!marauders x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x you

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moosesarecute · 2 days

Text

The Shadows Mate

A continuation of “The Shadows Sing”

Previous part “The Shadows Heal”

“Please ask him not to tell Azriel,” you asked your shadows to tell Azriel’s. He always let a shadow stay behind with yours and you always had one going with his. “He can’t know any of it.”

“He promises.”

You knew what to do, but you didn’t know how.

It felt like the most important mission of your life.

You were accepting the mating bond. The only problem is that you had no idea what to make him.

You had tried to ask him what he wanted you to do as accepting the bond, besides the food offering of course, but he never answered properly.

“I’m happy with whatever you want to do, lovely.”, “I only need you.”, “you can make me whatever you want when the time comes.”

It annoyed you like crazy. He had been teaching you to be open about what you wanted the last year, and when you ask him he wouldn’t even give a proper answer.

So that’s how you ended up asking for help.

You felt embarrassed by it. He was your mate for cauldrons sake! You should know him better than anyone, but you couldn’t even figure out his favorite food.

While dinner together with Cassian and Nesta wasn’t rare, you had only eaten alone with them a couple times.

Azriel was away for a week long mission, so they kept you company.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Nesta pointed out. “Everything okay?”

“Can you guys help me with something?”

“Anything,” Cassian answered immediately.

You felt unnecessarily nervous as you drew your breath and started to speak.

“I was wondering if you knew what Azriel’s favorite food is.” You hoped they would understand what you meant without you having to tell them.

From her reaction you could tell that Nesta knew exactly what you were insinuating, but Cassian seemed clueless.

“I mean, I guess he likes chicken or fish often with potatoes,” Cassian spoke looking questionably at you.

“I think she meant something a little more special,” Nesta told him.

Cassian spent some time thinking before his eyes widened. A huge smile grew on his face.

“Are you serious?”

You nodded, trying to hold back your excitement, but your shadows gave it away. They were dancing around in happiness.

“I guess you have already tried to ask him what he would want?” Nesta questioned.

“Yes,” you said with a sigh. “He never gave me proper answers.”

“Of course he didn’t, it’s Az we’re talking about.” You felt comforted knowing that Cassian understood your problem. “His favorite food is this casserole his mother makes. He always brings some of it home after visits, but he never shares with anyone.”

You had to hide your smile as you realized he never shared with anyone. Except you. You had tasted the casserole, only a small amount, but it tasted amazing.

“Maybe you could make a casserole, but put your own small twist on it,” Nesta suggested.

“I could, but I don’t have the recipe.”

That’s how you found yourself in Cassian’s arms as he flew you to the River House.

His flying was rougher than Azriel’s, but you didn’t mind. Having the wind move your hair felt amazing either way.

Cassian sat you down on the ground and basically pulled you inside the house.

“Auntie Y/N!” Nyx yelled the second he was you.

Nyx loved you and you loved him back. You and Azriel had quickly become babysitter’s number one, mostly because of your shadows.

However, you weren’t even able to greet the child before Cassian had dragged you past him and into the living room.

Feyre and Rhysand barely managed to look confused at you before Cassian spoke.

“SheisacceptingthebondsoweneedyoutogethertomotherAzrielsoshecangetthecasserolerecipe,” Cassian finished with a deep breath before he continued. “I’m so excited!”

You knew Feyre and Rhysand were communicating mind to mind as they spent some time without answering.

Soon, Feyre picked up Nyx and grabbed Cassian’s hand, leaving the room.

“Cassian seems overjoyed,” Rhysand said. “Sure he’s not the one accepting the bond?”

You let out a nervous laugh. You should be more excited, shouldn’t you? You were doing everything wrong, you should just go home and do something else.

“Hey, hey,” Rhysand’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Just first now realized how your shadows had covered you. “Come here, sit down.”

You did as he said and sat down on the couch beside him.

“You seem stressed. Was Cassian right? About you accepting the bond?”

You nodded carefully.

“That’s great, Y/N! But if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are you so worried about? You know he will accept it right? He’s basically wrapped around your finger.”

Your shadows lighted a little.

“I know! I know. That’s not what I’m worried about. I didn’t know what to make him, so I asked Cassian and Nesta and they suggested I make that casserole his mother makes with my own twist, but I need the recipe.”

Rhysand only nodded at you.

“Seems like a good idea. I’m sure his mother would love it and Azriel would be thrilled. We can go now if you want to?”

You landed in front of a cottage in the woods. You had winnowed, so the travel didn’t take long.

The cottage was small with a big garden with both flowers and other plants. On the fence was a small sign where it stood “Rosehall”.

You were too busy staring at the beauty of the garden to realize your shadows thought the same thing you did.

“No, wait!” You tried to hold them back, but they didn’t listen.

They swirled around the entire garden. It was like they were smelling the flowers.

“Pretty!”

“Smells good!”

Unfortunately, their idea of smelling flowers included smashing them to the ground.

“This is not good,” you sighed towards Rhysand, but he only laughed at you.

“Azriel?” A beautiful voice called from inside the cottage. “Is that you? I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

A beautiful female walked out of the cottage and towards the two of you. She wore simple but elegant clothes. But what horrified you was her wings, or wing.

On her back there was a shredded wing and the other one seemed to be gone.

“Not exactly Azriel,” Rhysand replied to her. “But I guess the second best-“

“Y/N!” Azriel’s mother exclaimed at you. She had soon engulfed you in her comforting arms. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

As she pulled away, you understood for sure that this was Azriel’s mother. They didn’t look alike, but her eyes. Her eyes were his eyes. They were just as comforting and bright as Azriel’s.

“I’m sorry about the flowers,” you managed to get out.

She only laughed a motherly laugh. Your shadows danced around her at the sound. Azriel had also gotten his laugh from her.

“It’s fine, lovely. Azriel’s shadows do the same thing and I’ve heard from him that your shadows are even more adventurous.”

You couldn’t help but to smile at the nickname.

She let you go and moved towards Rhysand.

“Hello, dear,” she said as she kissed his cheek. “How are you?”

“Everything’s good. Nyx is practicing flying longer distances so we spend a lot of time in the air.”

“Wonderful! And how’s Cassian and Morrigan?”

“They’re both doing great. Cassian and Nesta are still training more Valkyries and Morrigan is busy leading Hewn City.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’s doing an amazing job!”

The positivity Azriel’s mother gave out was the total opposite of her son. But at the same time, it felt exactly the same.

“But I can’t help to wonder, why are you visiting now? Is all alright with Azriel? I spoke to him last week, and he seemed fine.”

“Don’t worry, he’s fine,” Rhysand looked over to you. “Very fine, if I may add.”

Now also Azriel’s mother looked at you. You couldn’t meet their stares.

“Ehh, I-I’m, I thought I might,” you let out a sigh. “I thought I might accept the mating bond and Cassian suggested that I make him your casserole with my own twist, so I would need the recipe. But if that’s not okay with you, I will of course figure out something else.”

First now you looked up at Azriel’s mother.

She had glossy eyes. She moved slowly towards you and embraced you once more.

“I would love that,” she whispered to you. You almost started crying alongside her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like for us to figure out a twist on it together.”

She took your hand and led you towards her cottage.

“I’ve got it under control, Rhysand. Go home to your family.”

You only heard a chuckle and then Rhysand disappeared.

You had spent hours in the kitchen. Making the casserole together with Azriel’s mother was so easy, but doing it alone was something completely different.

“Smells good!”

“It’s not right!”

You needed this to be perfect.

Azriel had done everything for you. He had saved your life when you didn’t even realize you needed saving.

Azriel had helped you learn who you truly were and how you wanted to live your life.

Azriel had learned you to live, had learned you to enjoy living.

However, the most important thing. Azriel had learned you to love.

He gained your trust enough for you to put your entire life, trust and love into him. He had made you comfortable enough to give yourself to him, recently also sexually.

You felt ready to go for the next step and Azriel had made it clear that he did too.

This had to be perfect.

You started lighting the candles and sat the table as you let the casserole simmer a little longer.

Suddenly you felt your heart lighten, your eyes widen and your anxiety to ease.

Strong arms tightened your waist.

“Caldron, I’ve missed you,” Azriel mumbled as he smelled you. “You smell amazing, lovely. I love you.”

You felt his body first tense and then relax even more than before.

“What are you making?” He asked not letting go of your waist.

You moved around in his arms so you could see him clearly. All the anxiety you had previously felt had disappeared.

He loved you, you knew that. First now you had understood that when he said he would have been happy with whatever, he meant it.

You felt a mix of relief, total joy, love and comfort through the bond and you realized he had understood what you were doing.

“I went to your mother and we made a twist to it to make it more like me. I wanted to make you something special. So I asked Cassian and he suggested that I speak to your mother. Rhysand brought me and your mother and I spent an entire day together making the recipe.”

Overwhelming love spread through your body. Almost all of it came from Azriel.

His shadows moved and caressed your face. You leaned into them as you shifted your gaze into Azriel’s hazel eyes.

His eyes were filled with tears and soon they were also running down his cheeks.

You felt him loosen his grip on your waist, but you didn’t let him. Your shadows quickly strapped his arm back around you and dried the tears of his cheeks.

“Love,” they whispered to you. “We love our mate.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer as you leaned in and met your mate’s soft lips. Butterflies spread through your body and you had to giggle at the excitement of it all.

After a while, you moved out of Azriel’s arms and towards the casserole. You got him a serving and handed it to him.

“You should have some too,” he whispered.

He sat down his bowl and found you some food as well.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m the most honored that you chose to spent your life with me. I don’t have words for how happy I am,” he spoke as he handed you your food.

Once more your shadows had to dry tears from his cheeks.

“I’m the happiest fae ever, Azzie. I couldn’t have asked for a better mate and I hope you know that. I love you.”

Now, neither one of you could hold back your tears.

His shadows carefully dried away your tears as your’s dried away his.

You both looked at each other as you raised your forks.

“I’m yours,” you whispered.

“And I’m yours,” he answered.

And then, you both ate the casserole you had prepared.

If the love you felt through the bond had been overwhelming before, you no longer had words to explain what it felt like now.

It felt right.

“Love.”

You stopped admiring Azriel’s beauty and your head snapped towards the shadows that had wrapped around your entire body.

Not your shadows, but Azriel’s.

“Mate, mate, we love mates!”

“Our mates!”

Both you and Azriel had stopped eating.

“I can hear your shadows,” you whispered.

“I can hear yours too.”

Neither one of you could hold back as you moved to kiss each other.

“Finally!”

“Finally, indeed!”

“Azriel, can you even breathe?” Cassian asked him the second the two of you walked into the dining room.

Even though both of you had moved passed the most extreme part of the protectiveness after accepting the mating bond, your shadows had not.

So anytime you were more than a meter away from Azriel, your shadows would engulf him and his would cover you.

And your shadows definitely didn’t like Cassian question their methods of protecting your mate. You felt a pull to your hair.

“Our mate!”

Excuse me, our mate.

Soon Cassian was on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” said said and moved to help him up.

Unfortunately for you, Azriel’s shadows would not at all let you be closer to a male than what you were to Azriel. So they stopped you.

“This is getting out of hand, can you relax a little?” Azriel carefully asked all the shadows.

And suddenly, also Azriel was on the floor.

The ever protecting shadows were also never wrong, Azriel still needed to learn that.

Hope you have enjoyed their story as much as I have! This is the last planned part, but maybe I’ll explore more of their stories another time. Thank you to all that have been reading!

@i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark @saltedcoffeescotch @rcarbo1 @mrsjna @kitsunetori @thecraziestcrayon @blessthepizzaman @mybestfriendmademe @scatteredstardustt @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @topaz125 @miadialila @ivy-34 @goldenmagnolias @bwormie @animalistic0

Deviders by @cafekitsune

#acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x shadowsinger!reader

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narryffdreaming · 3 days

Text

lia and harry's story (one)

summary: harry is a bartender and lia lives right across the street. rating: +18 || warnings: mental health (anxiety) and smut (here and there) || word count: 14,7k

some scenes are different. some scenes are still the same. but here they are again.

“Rohan isn’t working tonight.”

The toneless, husky voice echoed in the dim lights, and Lia’s heart skipped a beat as she whipped her head to her left.

Harry walked past her and towards the sink, too occupied carrying a box under one of his arms. When he stopped, he turned his back to where she was and placed the item on the laminated counter, then put his free hand into his pocket and pulled a utility knife, not wasting any other second before using it to tore the cardboard in half.

Lia’s belly fluttered.

White t-shirt, black pants. Sleeves short enough for her to admire the multiple tattoos covering his arms, and fabric tight enough for her to follow the movements of the muscles on his back as he pulled a few napkins and straws out of the box.

She only needed a second for things to click inside her, and for her to remember why she decided to go to The Wandering Triplet in the first place.

Harry’s unkempt dark brown hair curled on top of his head and also a little bit to the sides, but it seemed shorter on the back. He had clearly gotten a haircut since last week, when she last saw him at the bar, and even though Lia couldn’t see his face, she already knew that it suited him.

She knew that he looked good.

Really good.

No, she knew that he looked great.

Unfairly and painfully handsome.

Like a dream.

Like he always did.

Lia sighed.

Harry grabbed the box with one hand and turned around, briefly glancing at her. He didn’t say nor did a thing, seemingly completely unamused by her presence as he looked forward and headed back towards the black curtain.

And that’s exactly when it hit her: she still hadn’t said anything to him.

Nothing.

Not even a word.

Oh my God.

A flush of heat creeped up through the back of Lia’s neck, and her belly turned into knots.

She shifted on her feet, straightening up and pulling her elbows closer to her body as she watched him disappear behind the thick black fabric.

Rohan isn’t working tonight.

Lia frowned.

Why did he even… Ugh.

Of course Rohan wasn’t working that night. It wasn’t something hard to figure out—she had been to The Wandering Triplet more than enough times to realize that on Wednesday Rohan always started his shift later at night, meaning that Harry always opened the bar by himself.

Besides, why did he have to start a conversation with her like that? Why couldn’t he just have said something simple like… Hello?

She pulled the loose sleeves of her cardigan and covered her fingers, then crossed her arms against her stomach and scanned the three shelves at the back wall. Honestly, entertaining any useless thoughts was better than overthinking Harry’s actions. She didn’t have the strength inside her to try and understand his dislike for her. Not anymore. She had already given up on that a long time ago. All she wanted was to get something to drink, get comfortable on a table, and daydream a little before going back home and dealing with all the very real consequences of that pathetic and useless day.

Lia shook her head.

Ugh.

White rum… White rum… Where’s the white rum?

Since she’d walked into The Wandering Triplet for the first time, Lia had stared at those shelves long enough to realize they had a system to place everything. The one at the bottom was filled with different types of glasses, all upside-down, while the other two above were used to perfectly organize rows of many different types of alcohol.

When it came to the bottles, the still unopened ones and also the most expensive brands were at the top, while the most commonly used were in the middle, closer to their reach. From left to right, they were also careful, matching not only by type, but also organizing by brands and colors.

Another sigh left her mouth, and Lia dropped her shoulders. She knew she’d agreed with her psychiatrist that she’d wait until her body got used to the new medication, but she could’ve really used a drink that day. Not just any drink, but a mojito—it was her favorite, and Harry always made the best one.

“Ok, then. What can I get you?”

Lia jumped slightly, batting her eyelashes and shifting her arms on the counter.

Harry stood next to her, cleaning the already-clean-bar.

She recognized his white t-shirt as one of her favorites. The design, mixing palm trees and searchlights with shades of blue and green, reminded her of one summer she’d spent in Los Angeles with her family, and the faded orange words around it made her think of an old record store.

Harry always looked cool with that t-shirt, especially when he matched it with those black wide-legged pants he was wearing right then. He looked like someone who could be in a band, like someone who could hold a guitar in front of a crowd and make people faint at the sight.

Not a popstar or rockstar, though. Nuh-uh. He was too snappy for that.

If Harry were a musician, he would probably be part of an indie band. Or one of those groups people never heard of until they randomly shuffled through a rainy and foggy playlist on Spotify.

And he’d definitely be the moody and mysterious bass player, bothered only by doing his own sound and ignoring all the screaming girls at his feet.

Bass guitar player. Yes. That would be for sure—he had great hands, and they looked perfect for the four-stringed instrument.

Harry wiped the surface forcefully, then tightened his long fingers around the light-brown towel and threw the item over his shoulder. As he held it there with one hand, he finally faced her, grasping the edge of the counter with his other hand and stretching his arm.

Leaf, intense, green eyes stared into her boring brown ones, and Lia’s heart skipped a beat.

He was so pretty.

So, so pretty.

And to daydream and imagine things was fun, but Harry wasn’t in any indie band, nor even a musician. He was simply the sulky, pretentious bartender who worked across the street from her apartment. And the guy who she had the biggest and most stupid crush on.

Harry cleared his throat, raised his eyebrows, and flinched his chin down.

Damn.

Lia shifted on her feet.

“It’s—I—I mean…” She shook her head and cleared her throat, too. “Sorry. Just water, I think? I—Yes. Water. Please.”

Harry rolled his eyes and turned around, scoffing quietly as he walked to the shelves. “Of course.”

Lia furrowed her brows and held her breath, watching him take his time while he put some distance between them. As if having to get her a simple glass of water was the most boring thing he could do. Or maybe the most annoying thing he could do. Or maybe the most tiring thing he could do.

His reaction felt out of place, but she couldn’t be surprised, could she? After all, she was used to his awful mood, and she’d gotten really good at pretending it didn’t bother her—to the point where she almost believed it herself.

In fact, to be honest, had it been any other day, she probably wouldn’t have even minded his behavior. She would’ve probably just accepted it and added it to the countless humiliating moments she’d lived so far.

But it was the last thing she needed on that particular Wednesday evening, when everything had already turned out so shitty that she was both mentally and emotionally exhausted.

Lia exhaled through her nose and clenched her jaw.

In less than eight hours, three people had already treated her with disdain and condescension, and four had made her feel inferior and weak. All she had done was to work on herself and try to step out of her comfort zone, like she promised Dr. Reisman she would do, and all she had gotten in return was… Nothing.

So shame on her for needing some distraction, right? Shame on her for thinking that silently watching her crush from far away would help her forget about her stressful and dreadful day. Shame on her for believing that she would be able to feel at least slightly better after spending five minutes at the bar.

A glass full of water emerged in front of her, and Lia blinked.

“There you go, princess.” Harry smiled, as blatantly sarcastic and careless as he could be, then turned around and walked back to the sink.

Lia glared at him, tightening her hands into fists and letting her body be consumed by her heavy breathing.

She hated when he looked at her like that. And she hated when he made her feel like a child. Harry almost never talked to her, but when he did, he seemed to always find a way to make her feel mocked or challenged to say something. Challenged to be different. Challenged to speak up. Challenged to react quicker.

And Lia hated it.

She truly hated it, because she wasn’t good with words. At all. And she was well aware of that. She was getting treatment because of that, for fucks sake!

So she didn’t need anyone pointing out the obvious for her. And she didn’t need anyone making her feel even worse for not being able to actually get better. Or for constantly messing things up even though she desperately tried not to.

Why…

Why did it have to be so hard for her?

And why did it have to be so hard all the damn time?

Why couldn’t she get things right? At least once in her life?

And why on earth did she insist on nurturing that fruitless crush, anyway?

Huh?

Why did she care about someone who didn’t know her at all? Someone who had never even tried to get to know her?

Huh?

And also, why couldn’t Harry just let her be?

Why did he have to treat her that way?

What had she even done to him, huh?

What had she done, besides moving across the street and being a regular customer at the bar?

Huh?

Huh?!!

Lia grabbed the glass in front of her and took a sip of water. Then another one, and another one. Desperately gulping down three quarters of it before putting it down on the counter again.

Harry was unbelievable.

Unbelievable!

The judgment behind every action and every word was completely unnecessary.

So what if she was drinking water? Huh? Why did it matter? What difference did it make? She could drink whatever she wanted to, right?

And why—why—calling her princess? What was the point? What did he even mean by that?

Huh?

Huh?!?!

“Ok, look,” Harry said, standing in front of her with a frown on his face and arms crossed on his chest, “are you just going to stand there all night? Because I told you Rohan isn’t—”

“Oh my goodness!” Lia laughed, uncrossing her arms and taking a step back from the counter. “This is… I… You… I’m just… Ugh!”

She shook her head and looked down. Reaching for her bag, she watched her own movements as she put her hand inside it and rummaged through her things.

“I’ll go, okay? I’ll go,” she said, fishing around for her wallet. “But you know what, Harry? Considering I’ve been around here for almost a year now, and that so far you’ve never even cared to… I don’t know… At least know my name, you don’t need to try so hard to be an asshole to me all the time, y’know?” She found some cash laying around, then grabbed the notes firmly between her fingers and slammed them on the counter. “You’ve already earned the title.”

She turned around and gritted her teeth, feeling the heat reverberating through her skin as she mumbled, “Asshole.”

And then, she walked away, finally removing herself from the unneeded interaction and not even once daring to look back at his face.

For the next three weeks, Lia didn’t go to the bar.

It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t intentional. She was busy, and life was happening. She went back to her parents house for a weekend, enjoyed the quietness of hometown, worked some extra hours, had dinner with her friends, took some alone time for herself, and then… Well, and then she also didn’t make any effort to go.

Because why would she, anyway?

“Excuse me.”

Someone shoved her, causing Lia to stumble on her feet and snap out of her mind. She looked to her side, apologizing for standing in the way while shuffling on her feet to keep her balance.

Nobody seemed to care about her presence, though. Nor to have the slight idea of how much wondering it took before showing up again. Or to know that the last time she’d been there she’d called a bartender out for not knowing her name—and that she might’ve used the word asshole, too.

Lia let her hair fall on her face and sighed.

Things inside The Wandering Triplet were… Different.

Really different.

For starters, it was way more packed than usual, more crowded than what she ever expected it to be. People stood everywhere, talking and laughing even louder than any other time. And she wasn’t sure the place had at least once smelled that much like beer and perfume.

On top of that, two guys seemed to be playing live music, something she had definitely never seen there before. Just like a lot of the faces surrounding her right then and there.

She swallowed, then rubbed her neck.

It was hard not to notice the way her body heat had risen. Or how her entire outfit suddenly seemed like a bad call—because, honestly, how was she supposed to not sweat under that black turtleneck? Or under the tight fabric of her jeans? Even her feet were burning up, buried in those damn leather boots.

And it wasn’t like Lia was incapable of dressing according to the situation. It was just that, well, how was she even supposed to imagine that the place would ever be so crowded?

Especially on a Monday night!

C’mon!

Monday nights were always their quietest nights. So much so that they didn’t even require two bartenders working at the same time.

And Lia knew that. It was exactly the whole reason why she had chosen to go back on that particular night: because Monday nights were Harry’s nights off.

Or, well, at least they used to be Harry’s nights off.

Shit.

There was absolutely no way Rohan would be able to handle that chaos all by himself, right?

So…

Oh God.

She was going to see him… Wasn’t she?

The whole therapy session, with all the planning and thinking about how she could go back there without actually having to face him, had been a complete waste of time. Right?

It had been for nothing.

And a complete failure.

Right?

Right?!

Her stomach fluttered, then shot a soft tingling to her chest.

Shit.

She didn’t want to see him, though. Of course she didn’t. Not after she’d humiliated herself.

So… She should’ve turned around and gone back home, right? Try it again on a different night, maybe. Or just find a different bar.

Right?

Lia sighed, heavier this time.

She couldn’t run away, though. The whole point of going to the bar again was to challenge her own thoughts and beliefs, so she couldn’t give up now. She had to try.

Right?

Oh God.

Sliding her tongue through her lips, Lia put her hair behind her ears and focused on her destination, then squeezed her way in to make it to the counter and order herself a drink—just as she promised Dr. Reisman she would do.

To navigate her body through so many strangers wasn’t an easy task, that’s for sure, but she eventually managed to push herself all the way across the room. Once she found herself closer to the counter, a man walked backwards, holding three beers between his hands.

Lia turned sideways, giving him more room to walk without dropping anything. It also turned out to be the perfect opportunity for her to place one hand on the edge of the wooden bar, hold herself, and step onto the new empty space.

After that, everything felt mostly like a blur.

Rohan was there, but he wasn’t alone. There was also a girl helping him out. A girl she hadn’t seen there before. Short, blonde hair. Long legs and arms. Tattoos on her shoulder and piercing on her nose. She handed him empty glasses and chatted excitedly, while he grabbed each with a smile and put them all back on the bottom shelf.

And then a tattooed arm abruptly flashed in front of her, and Lia lurched back. Barely catching the color of the towel being yanked in circles right next to her.

Someone yelled an order, another person called someone’s name, and another one shouted an ‘excuse me’ a couple of steps to her side. Pop acoustic covers were still playing in the back and someone dropped a couple of spoons behind the bar.

Everything was happening at the same time. Right where she was. And yet all she could pay attention to was Harry’s figure coming to a stop in front of her.

Harry blinked once, then turned his head slightly to the side, shouting the words without removing his sea-green eyes from her. “Rohan! Lia is here!”

And just like that, Harry turned around and walked away.

And she was all by herself all over again.

Lia frowned.

What…

Did he…

Had Harry just called her name?

Lia is here.

That’s what he’d said, right?

Lia is here.

Her stomach fluttered.

Considering how the last thing she had said to him—besides calling him an asshole, of course—was that he didn’t know her name, that couldn’t be a coincidence… Right?

Right?!

“Lia, heyyy!"

She lowered her gaze to the counter and furrowed her brows.

How the hell had Harry been able to do that? To disconcert her in a matter of two seconds?

Four words. That was it. That was all it had taken.

All because he had said her name.

After three weeks of not seeing him.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Rohan stood in front of her with worried eyes and puzzled face, and Lia blinked.

It took her a moment to realize she was still frozen in place, but she finally shook her head and looked up.

“Uh, yeah… I… Yes. Oh my God. Sorry. Yes.” She chuckled and waved her hand. “I just... Long day today. Sorry.”

Rohan nodded and smiled, too. “Gotcha. No worries! It’s nice to see you again! You look taller today.”

“Oh.” Lia leaned back and looked down at her feet, wiggling her toes inside her high heel leather boots. “Must be the shoes.” She shrugged. “Don’t wear them often.”

“You should. You look nice! So, what can I get ya? Let’s cheer you up after a long day, huh?”

Lia sighed, then cleared her throat.

Rohan’s energy was always loud. His brown eyes always sparkled with joy, and every time he smiled his entire face lit up. It definitely made it really easy to talk to him, mostly because he never gave her too much time to speak and be awkward. He moved forward, simply worrying about doing his job and constantly making sure everyone was having a good time.

“Actually,” she said, “I don’t... I don’t know what I want. Maybe a cocktail, please? Nothing strong, though. I just… Yeah… I haven’t been drinking for a while, so... I think I’d rather be careful? You know? Sorry.”

Rohan tilted his head and grinned at her, watching her for a brief moment before he shook his head and chuckled.

A flush creeped across Lia’s cheeks, and she bit the inside of her bottom lip.

“Of course!” He nodded, watching her as he took a step back and winked at her. “One minute, yeah?”

Rohan turned around and walked away, and Lia let the air out through her nose.

Always the same thing. She just had to find a way to embarrass herself, didn’t she?

Dropping her shoulders and peeking at her sides, she found Harry standing by the other end of the counter, chatting with the new bartender while they mixed a couple of drinks.

He hadn’t changed much—or at all. The hair had probably been trimmed and he had clearly shaved at some point just to let his facial hair grow again, because his scruff looked just the same as three weeks ago.

Even his t-shirt seemed to be the same one—until Lia noticed it actually had different writing and design.

Her belly fluttered, just like it always did when she looked at him. And then, when she couldn’t decide if the fluttering was a good or bad feeling, her chest always tightened as well.

It tightened with a mix of amazement, delight, frustration, and sadness. All at once.

Because no matter how oblivious Harry was to it, he was the whole reason Lia had slowly become a regular at the bar.

Sure, a great therapy session had led her to challenge herself and get a drink by herself. And then, that spur of the moment decision had taken her to the bar across the street—the only one that was open that night.

But walking into the bar and meeting someone who would make her insides blaze wasn’t on her plans. And even considering challenging herself for a second time just a few days later definitely wouldn’t have happened if, that exact same night, she hadn’t met him.

Eleven months had gone by since that night, and yet Lia still winced every time she recalled it.

Harry had taken her order, but hadn’t even smiled politely when doing so. He also hadn’t looked at least one bit excited about making the mojito she’d asked for (which later Lia thought tasted delicious, anyway).

Even after that, no matter how many times she had stepped into the bar, he never even flinched when looking at her. Never.

It was as if she didn’t even exist to him.

So Lia had a crush on him, yes, but she wasn’t stupid. Harry had never hidden his lack of interest in getting to know her, so she knew he wasn’t into her. And she was fine with that. Really.

She was fine with it. And she was more than used to it by now. Even if—

“That’s Sage.”

Lia turned her head and straightened her back, only then noticing she’d been openly staring at the interaction between the two bartenders.

“She just started, so Harry’s going over our signature drinks with her,” Rohan added, shrugging and smiling. “I know it can be hard to believe, but he’s pretty patient. A great guy once you get past the frown on his face.”

Lia smiled. She actually didn’t find that hard to believe at all, but she didn’t want Rohan to know how she really felt about his co-worker, or how much she had watched all along, so she didn’t share the thought with him.

Instead, she glanced at the cocktail glass he’d placed on the counter and asked, “A martini?”

“Right!” Rohan slapped his open hand on the counter, as if bringing himself back to the conversation. “Apple martini, to be precise. Or, as some would say, appletini.”

Lia chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve had one of these before.”

“Hope you enjoy it, then.”

“I’m sure I will. Thank you, Rohan.”

He curled his lips into another bright and cheerful smile. “My pleasure. If you don’t like it, next one’s on me, yeah? So lemme know.”

“Okay.” Lia smiled and nodded, wrapping her fingers around the glass and pushing her weight off the counter. “I will.”

— — — — —

Sitting by herself, Lia took the last sip of her melted apple martini just as the two young boys finished playing another pop song from their acoustic set.

People clapped next to her, and she left the glass on the table to do the same, tilting her head and smiling at how cute and shy the pair looked on the stage. Despite the obvious age difference, they somehow reminded her of her students when they had to perform for the first time in front of an audience, which was probably why she kept feeling the need to pay attention to them and reassure them with her eyes—a way to let them know how well they were doing up there.

They thanked politely and introduced the next song, and Lia rested her chin on the palm of her hand, paying attention to the first few chords of a song she couldn’t recognize.

Truthfully speaking, Lia was proud of herself. Even though the place was way more crowded than she was comfortable with, and even though she’d thought about leaving multiple times, she survived the thirty minutes she’d promised herself she would try to stay.

So she knew she had already made some good progress, and that she could now go home without feeling guilty.

She hadn’t failed. Not that night, at least.

As a gift to herself, she allowed her eyes to wander around the bar, trying to get a glimpse of Harry before she officially left.

She found him behind the counter, of course, all focused while chatting with his two coworkers. He listened to whatever Rohan was saying, nodding along while pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. But then, something in the story caused him to widen his eyes and drop his hand to Sage’s shoulder, holding the shock on his face firmly for a moment before he finally threw his head back and laughed. Loudly. Bringing his free hand to his chest while his entire body seemed to shake.

Lia’s belly fluttered, and she was pretty sure both of her lungs had stopped working.

He was just so… Attractive.

So hypnotizing. It was like she couldn’t take her eyes away from him.

And she knew how silly she was for it. For wanting him that bad.

She knew it. But she couldn’t help it.

She just couldn’t.

A group of people approached the counter, and Rohan automatically got back into work mode, walking towards them. Harry and Sage were left behind, then, but they quickly seemed to engage into more conversation. Happy, interesting conversation.

Jealousy sparked in her chest, but Lia still watched him with nothing but fascination. She watched the way he crossed his arms on his chest, and also the way he kept raising one of his hands to gesture whenever he talked to Sage.

Lia is here.

His words echoed inside her mind, and Lia knew, right then and there, that later at night she’d be in bed and think about the way he’d said her name. Over and over again.

She’d think about the way he treated the new girl, and she’d dream about him treating her like that, too.

She knew it, because she’d been there before. Because after that first night at the bar, watching Harry became like a hobby to her. And because in the eleven months she’d been there, even though it hadn’t been that often, there had been a time when Lia used to see him with a woman at the bar. A girlfriend, perhaps. Someone who was obviously older than him, but just as tall, and had shoulder-length, perfectly straight, dark auburn hair. Someone who’d always seemed too elegant and sophisticated for The Wandering Triplet, and yet had never looked out of place. Effortlessly delicate and powerful at the same time. Someone who carried herself in a way that screamed confidence, as if she’d never known what it was like to feel insecure about herself.

During those nights, when that woman used to be at the bar, Lia always stood a little bit afar, not wanting to be disrespectful to them, but still allowing herself to catch some glimpses of a completely different version of him.

A more natural, vulnerable version. Where Harry would laugh so loud he would drop his head back, or peck her lips multiple times, and even caress her cheek in between customers. Where he would whisper in her ear, make her smile, and stare deeply into her eyes when she did all the talking. Where he would also walk her out of the bar holding her hand, or hug her waist when guiding them to his car.

It was obvious to Lia — and probably to anyone who looked at them, to be honest — how much they appreciated each other’s company, and how much he cared for her. It was also very clear how much Harry enjoyed the affection. How much he enjoyed being touched and taken care of.

And embarrassingly as it was, more than once Lia had woken up highly aware of dreaming about him. Recalling false, vivid memories of her replacing that woman, and of Harry touching and kissing her, instead.

Lia shifted on her seat, withdrawing her chin from her hand and rolling her shoulders. Hoping to push those thoughts away, but also praying people never find out they even existed in the first place.

Focusing her sight on them again, Lia caught Rohan walking back to Harry and Sage. He stood with his back turned to her, and the other two resumed their attention on whatever he had to say.

She watched a little bit more, just to enjoy those couple minutes before she left. Music played in the background, and people chatted jazzily all around her. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, though. She just couldn’t.

So handsome.

Harry lifted one hand, pulling his short hair back and out of the way, and then crossed his arms again. He listened to Rohan, and to everything he had to say. He focused, nodded, and offered his own comments from time to time. Giving his co-worker all his attention, solely and purely.

Until he drifted his sight to the side and met her stare.

Lia held her breath and gulped down, freezing as his eyes settled inside hers.

Oh God.

Her heart palpitated. And her breathing sped up.

It was hard to be one hundred percent sure of what was happening when he was so far away, but it was also hard to have any doubts when he was so intense that she could feel him all through her body. And when he didn’t seem to make any attempt to avoid her gaze. Or move. Or look away.

Oh my God. Oh my God.

Oh my God!

A heavy and empty feeling spread in her stomach, and Lia looked away.

What the hell was even happening?

What was she supposed to do?

Why was he looking at her?

Was he actually looking at her?

She glanced back at him, and their eyes instantly met again.

He was still watching her.

Lia closed her hands into fists, then forced herself to breathe. Deeply. Heavily.

Harry lifted his eyebrows and tilted his chin down.

It was an expression she’d seen before, and that it was enough to make every single one of her muscles quiver.

She darted her eyes back to her empty drink and blinked.

What the hell?

To have him staring back at her felt even worse than him saying her name or her calling him an asshole. It was like breaking the fourth wall. It was like acknowledging her existence. And Lia didn’t know what to do with that.

She rummaged for something, but it was as if her thoughts weren’t there anymore. As if her brain stopped functioning and she went completely blank.

And just like that, before she could give herself a pep talk and calm herself down, Lia had already pushed her chair away from the table and ran to the door. Stepping outside and away from the bar.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Or at least that was what one of Lia’s teachers always used to say. And also what crossed her mind on Friday night, when she walked into The Wandering Triplet followed by Jillie and Molly.

“Ohhh, I like this place,” Molly said, coming to a stop right behind the other two.

“Yeah!” Jillie nodded, then linked her arm with Lia’s. “I can see why you like it here. Feels kinda cozy. Intimate.”

Lia’s mouth twitched with a smile, and she took one hand up to put her hair behind her ear.

Dr. Reisman was so right about it.

Going through life without opening up and sharing things wasn’t working for her. Not anymore. And yeah, it sucked that she had needed a push from her therapist and the assignment of a new task to do it, but at least she’d told them about it.

At least she wasn’t keeping it all to herself anymore.

“I’m glad you like it,” Lia offered, looking around and taking the place in.

It didn’t feel too crowded this time, not yet at least. On her left side, most tables were occupied, and an older man was performing on the same tiny stage the two boys were playing the other night—his low, raspy voice blending with the soft chatting and laughing of customers.

To her right, though, only a few people stood near the counter, giving her the perfect view of the three bartenders working behind it.

Lia cleared her throat and diverted her eyes back to the stage.

“I guess it’s usually like this,” she added, ignoring the fact that her belly was suddenly turning upside down. “But it also depends on how crowded the other two bars are.”

“Hmm… Well,” Jillie said, turning her head to look at them, “should we get a table, then?”

Lia nodded and stepped forward.

“Sure—”

“Wait!” Molly placed her hands on Lia’s hips, forcing her to stay in place. “Let’s get a drink first.”

“A—Already? You sure? Now? Right now?"

“Yes.” Molly smirked. “Right now. C’mon. Wanna see that bartender of yours up close.”

“Oh God…”

Lia chuckled, mostly because she didn’t know what to say. Or do.

Of course they wanted to see him, though. After all, it was the whole reason why they were there that night.

At first the excitement and curiosity had happened through texts, when Lia got the courage to tell them about Harry. Their reaction had been instant, and it’d brought so much joy to her body that Lia ended up spending way more time on her phone than she should have.

Despite letting them know it was only a crush, and that he didn’t really care about her, they both entertained the subject, asking details about the way he looked or how she’d met him. It was easy to get carried away with them, because they didn’t make it seem that deep, treating the topic lightly. Treating it as a joke.

They also didn’t make her feel guilty or out of her mind for being attracted to him. And when she explained to them how she worried about being inappropriate for fantasizing about him, they both shared their own stories of moments when they’d fancied someone they probably shouldn’t have, and even of things they’d done with people that they probably shouldn’t have.

It brought some sense of imperfection to her, and of humanity, and it made her breathe better. So before ending the conversation, when they asked to meet him, Lia didn’t want to say no and go back to her lonely and quiet bubble, so she agreed with them.

And that’s how they ended up there.

On Friday night. At the bar.

“Oh, yes! I wanna see him, too!” Jillie let go of Lia’s arm and turned around. “C’mon.”

The idea of her gorgeous, tall, cheerful friend reaching the bar first and alone was enough to get a reaction out of her.

“Okay, okay!” Lia looked at the floor and closed her hands into fists, then stepped forward and led the way.

She had no idea what would come out of that night, but she knew it didn’t make sense for her to run away or avoid the situation—not even if it made her stomach swirl and turn. After all, telling her best friends about Harry and The Wandering Triplet had felt like a bold move, but also like a step she needed to take.

And one she hadn’t regretted so far.

"Heeyyy!” Rohan’s cheerful voice greeted as soon as Lia reached the counter, and she immediately glanced up. He approached them with a grin and open arms, easily leaving his co-workers behind. “Look who’s here!”

Lia curled her mouth into a closed-lip smile and cleared her throat.

“H—Hi…”

“You good? It’s nice to see you! You almost never show up on Fridays.”

“Oh…” She chuckled softly, placing her hands inside the pockets of her jacket and shrugging. “I just… Yeah. I’m with my friends tonight, so… I wanted to show them around? I guess…”

“Of course!” Rohan widened his eyes, but his smile never faltered. He shifted his sight to the other girls and stood up straighter, then stretched his arm and offered his hand for them to shake. “How rude of me. Hello there, I’m Rohan.”

“Molly.”

“Jillie, hi.”

“Welcome to The Wandering Triplet, yeah? Hope you enjoy it. Any friend of Lia is more than welcome here.”

Lia shifted on her feet, then caught a glimpse of Harry moving towards the shelves.

She hadn’t seen him again, but the intensity of his eyes was still engraved inside her mind. It had induced the most vivid dreams for the last couple of nights, and it brought a fluttery to her belly every time she thought about him.

And she really didn’t know what to think about it, or if she even should think so much about it, but it was nice to see him again. It really was.

He looked good, as usual, and even though she couldn’t see his face, she could see enough to know he was already frowning. Also as usual.

For a change, though, Harry was wearing a black t-shirt. Black t-shirt, black wide legged pants, and black shoes.

Black, black, black.

Lia sighed. She wished he could be the one taking their orders and chatting with them. Him, instead of Rohan. At least once.

Jillie elbowed her side, and Lia shook her head. Clearing her throat, she looked from Rohan, to Jillie, to Molly.

They were all watching her.

She forced a chuckle out of her mouth and faced Jillie again. “What?”

“Nothing.” Jillie shrugged. “Rohan was just saying how you’re one of their favorite regulars. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Lia laughed—or tried to laugh—and shook her head again. Vehemently, this time. Almost desperately. “I don’t… No… Yeah, no… I don’t think I am.”

“Of course you are,” Rohan said, drawing all the attention back to him. “I mean, I know you’re my favorite customer, at least.”

Rohan winked, and Lia’s brain froze. Her stomach rolled before heaviness settled in, and her senses seemed to catch every detail around her: her friends coughing next to her, Sage patting Rohan’s shoulder as she walked past him, and Harry snorting and shaking his head behind him.

Heat creeped up through her neck, face, and ears. And all she wanted was to get away from there. To be swallowed by the ground. To vanish from air.

“Oookay…” Molly laughed, throwing her arm around Lia’s shoulder and pulling her close. “So what about getting your favorite customer and her friends two mojitos and a beer, huh?”

— — — — —

“Your little shit!” Jillie hissed, sending her a glare and a laugh from across the table. “You’ve been hiding all this from us? I can’t believe you!”

Next to Lia, Molly laughed and shook her head. “Me neither.”

“And this Rohan guy? Oh my God! Lia! He’s so into you! What the hell?!”

“Yeah. How come you didn’t tell us about him?”

Lia shrugged.

Rohan had always been nice, and maybe he had said a few things here and there that had made her blush before, but he had never been so straightforward with the flirting.

Besides, she didn’t care about Rohan, so she never thought about mentioning him. Why would she?

The girls talked and laughed about her apparently “secret life”, but there was nothing Lia could think to say to them, so she listened.

And as she listened, she hid her face behind the rim of the glass in her hands, then took the first sip of her mojito.

Mint and rum went down her throat, and she pursed her lips.

It was good, but it wasn’t as good as Harry’s.

She twisted her neck and tried to catch a glimpse of the bar, but there were too many people in between.

Her shoulders dropped, and she sighed.

Was there even a way for her to interact with him again?

Should she walk in early on a Wednesday evening again?

What if Sage was there, too?

Would he take the opportunity to ignore her, like he normally did?

Ugh!

See?!

Harry was the one she wanted to talk about, not Rohan.

Why was Rohan the topic of conversation?

Lia faced the table and cleared her throat.

Both Jillie and Molly looked at her, and she shifted on her seat.

“Uh… So… What did you think of Harry?”

Eyeing one girl, then the other, Lia sipped her mojito again.

Jillie shrugged.

“I was so focused on Rohan that I didn’t even pay attention to Harry, to be honest.” She stretched her neck, lifting her head towards the bar’s direction.

“I think… Damn he’s hot,” Molly admitted.

Lia’s lips curled up. “Yeah? You think?”

“Oh yes.” Molly nodded. “The tattoos, the clothes, the hair... And not shaving but also not actually having a beard? Pft. The guy definitely knows what he’s doing.”

Lia’s smile turned into a grin.

She had always been so afraid of her friends (and people in general) judging her, or making her feel embarrassed, that she never allowed herself to just share and enjoy things with others. And in that moment, sitting with them at the bar and gossiping about Harry, as ridiculous as she knew it would sound, she felt less alone.

Damn! She just couldn’t wait to tell Dr. Reisman all about it. She would be happy to know that Lia was finally considering her words to be correct: living outside of her tiny safe bubble could, in fact, be so good for her.

— — — — —

A couple of hours later, Molly and Jillie hugged Lia goodnight and shared an Uber back to their homes.

Lia stood near the bouncer and watched the car drive off, meanwhile tried to find her keys inside of her bag.

She really needed to bring something smaller for those kinds of situations, especially considering she was only across the street from her own apartment.

Why did she even need that much stuff?

She had never stopped to journal in the middle of a drink. And she had never done her nails outside her home. And she had never needed—

“So she has friends, after all.”

Lia jerked her head to one side, and then to the other. It took her a moment to see him, standing alone in the darkness of the tiny alley next to the bar.

Harry was leaning on his right shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed on top of his chest and his head slightly tilted to the side.

He smirked, and Lia’s chest tightened.

“You thought I didn’t have friends?” she blurted out, her tone softer and lower than she had intended to.

Harry shrugged, and his shoulders went up and down theatrically — dragging his crossed arms along with him while his lips curved down.

Lia blinked and looked at the floor.

She was convinced Harry didn’t care about her. A fact that implied he didn’t think about her, nor make assumptions about her.

Thinking again, though, she knew that wasn’t the truth.

Because Harry made assumptions about her. For instance, he constantly assumed she went to the bar to see Rohan. He also tended to scoff and roll his eyes at her, as if she was too predictable.

He didn’t know her, but he acted as if he did.

But... What kind of person he thought she was, then? What kind of person didn’t have any friends?

Did he actually think that low of her?

She was aware of how hard it was for her to be social, to feel comfortable around people, but she had never thought she could be perceived as someone who wasn’t capable of having any friends.

Did that even make sense?

Why did his comment make her feel so… Sad about herself?

So... Lonely?

So insufficient.

So out of place.

Damn.

What was she even feeling?

Her chest ached, and her throat felt sore, but she couldn’t point out exactly what any of that meant… How would she be able to control her emotions, if she couldn’t tell what emotions she was dealing with in the first place?

“Oh c’mon…” Harry scoffed, and even though she wasn’t looking at him, Lia could hear his eyes rolling in his voice. “I was just saying. Don’t be a baby about it.”

He sounded annoyed.

Or maybe disappointed.

Or maybe bored.

Lia looked up and to the left. She focused on the bouncer sitting on the stool and took a deep breath in. Watching him scroll through his phone without a single care about their interaction.

Or maybe pretending not to have a single care about it.

Maybe he was internally laughing about the whole thing. Ready to pat Harry’s back and agree with him. Ready to admit he had no idea why Lia kept showing up over and over again.

Another deep breath in, and Lia looked at the ground, finding her own feet.

Her boots were dirty with beer. She needed to clean them up as soon as she got home. She also needed to wash her hair, because she could definitely smell cigarettes. Were people smoking inside? Was that even allowed?

“See!”

Lia jumped. And looked up again.

Harry snorted and turned to the side, leaning his back completely against the wall and shoving his hands inside of his pants’ pockets. Shaking his head, he murmured, “I knew talking to you was useless.”

Lia’s heart shrunk.

Harry looked defeated. And maybe he really was, because apparently he had finally noticed how boring it was to have an actual conversation with her.

God, he made her feel so, so small.

“You—” Lia closed her eyes. She needed to speak, or she would regret it the next morning. She batted her eyes open and took a couple of steps forward, stopping only when she was in front of him. Closing her hands into fists, she breathed in, and then breathed out. “You need to… Stop.”

“Stop?”

“Yes. Stop! Stop acting like you know a thing about me, because you don’t, okay? If you… If you don’t want to know me then… Then fine. Just don’t. But stop… Just stop being such an asshole to me.”

He took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms on his chest.

“Stop calling me an asshole.”

“Then stop being one!”

For a second, it seemed as if Harry’s lips twitched upwards, attempting to smile.

But then he licked his lips, and shrugged.

“How am I being an asshole? We don’t even talk.”

“Well… We… You… We clearly don’t, but…” She sighed and looked at the end of the alley, searching for a safe place to put her eyes and crossing her arms under her chest before she poured her honesty into him. “But when we do, you make sure to point out only the things I hate the most about myself, and that sucks.”

There was silence. A lot of silence. And if she hadn’t heard him sigh, or if she couldn’t see him through the corner of her eyes, she would’ve thought he had left.

Breathe in, Lia.

Breathe out.

“I know I am awkward, okay? And I know I am not fun to talk to. I know it takes me some time to answer, and I know people don’t want to be friends with me. I know all that. Trust me, I know. I know, and I hate that I am this way. But you… You have no idea how hard I try anyway. How hard I keep trying to step out of my comfort zone and just… Be different. Be better. So there’s no need to make fun of me, okay? Just let me be and I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Lia—”

“Don’t. Please. Just… I already hate myself for telling you all this. God… I—I haven’t told these things to anyone besides my therapist. And caring so much about it is another thing that I hate about myself. I know it’s stupid, I know I am old enough and shouldn’t care. I wish I didn’t but… It’s just… Anyway, I don’t need you being mean or making fun of me about it, okay? Finally talking to someone about this it’s... It was supposed to be good for me. It was supposed to… I don’t know… It was supposed to feel good and not... Not like this.”

“Listen—”

“No. Let’s just… Leave it like this, okay? Forget about it. It’s not like you ever cared about me anyway.”

There was a reason why Lia spent most of the time inside her head: it was better than facing the reality of her life.

And for the last twelve months or so, her mind had created a very nice and safe bubble for her to distract herself with. A bubble where she lived happily and unbothered. Where she didn’t embarrass herself. And where she didn’t mess things up.

Her bubble was hers and only hers, but she wasn’t alone in it. Of course she wasn’t.

Since she’d met him at the bar, and even though he had no idea about it, Harry had been there as well.

Lia liked to look at him, she liked to wonder about him, and she liked to fantasize about him. Because Harry was hot. And sexy as hell. And because although she wasn’t into the “dark and mysterious” vibe, she couldn’t deny that Harry made her insides come to live.

He really did.

In her dreams, Lia was sure he was everything she always secretly wanted but never had. Especially in bed.

He looked like the type of man who wasn’t nice, because he didn’t give a damn about being nice. He looked like the type of man who didn’t get attached, who was just after having a good time. Who would sleep with her, send her home, and roll his eyes at her the next time he saw her around.

He looked like the kind of man who could have any woman, at any time, without even having to try.

And Lia had always wondered how it would be like to have sex with someone like that, but she always knew it was a dangerous path to actually walk through. So when he brushed her off, or rolled his eyes at her, or didn’t even acknowledge she was there, she fed her fantasy up. But she wouldn’t be that into him if she didn’t know that’s all it was—a fantasy.

A fantasy that kept her company in her nice and safe bubble. That distracted her. That allowed her to stay by herself without losing her mind.

And a fantasy that ended up nowhere to be seen, because the bubble in which she had been happily living and nurturing all those dreams about him had burst right in front of her. And even though she’d been stupid in the past, there was absolutely no way she was ever going to allow herself to even think about something happening between them again. Nuh-uh.

Not at all.

Not anytime soon.

Not ever again.

Only hours had gone by, but Lia was already all over the place.

She hadn’t slept at all, too busy crying and catching up her breath.

She didn’t think it was fair that Harry had been the one who she’d opened up to, especially because it didn’t feel like opening up to someone. It felt like begging for him not to be mean at her because she was too insecure about herself. It felt like not being strong enough to just let it go. It felt like not being confident enough to act like a woman next to him. It felt weak. It felt sad. It felt awful.

Lia had never been so vulnerable to someone. Not besides Dr. Reisman, at least. So at that moment, when it finally happened — when she finally let it all out — all she had wanted and needed was a hug. And she couldn’t ask him that.

Of course she couldn’t.

So she had to go back to her place and go through all of it all by herself. All alone. Just like she didn’t want to be.

Damn. Her brain hurt from so much thinking. From all the embarrassment, all the judgment, all the regret.

She was spiraling, all over again. And because of a man, all over again.

Another man.

Again.

No. No, no, no. She couldn’t go through all that again. She really couldn’t. She needed to do something. She needed to handle the situation. She had to stop it before she ended up losing herself again.

And she was going to do it the only way she knew how—creating a new, nice, and safe bubble for herself. A bubble that could be her only world for a couple of days.

Or for as long as it took until she felt brave enough to step out of it again.

One day.

Two days.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

A week.

And another one.

“They are all delicious.” Lia crossed her arms on the counter and smiled. “But yeah, Snickers was definitely my favorite one so far.”

“Really?” Cece smiled. The wrinkles around her face doubled, and her hand shook slightly as she handed Lia the card reader. “Thank you, dear. Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Hmmm… I don’t think so.” She waited for the confirmation that the payment went through, then added, “But I’ll definitely be here on Friday.”

“Good. I’ll have a slice of your favorite ready for you then. On the house.”

Lia’s smile got wider, and she was filled by this sudden need of giving that sweet lady the biggest and warmest hug.

She couldn’t believe how long it had taken her to discover CC Tearoom, especially since it was right around the corner from her place. Cece’s hands truly turned ingredients into magic. So far, there hadn’t been a flavor that hadn’t made Lia close her eyes and hum to herself. This time, it was the Roasted Strawberries & Cream Cheesecake that had sent her over the moon, but on Monday it had been the slice of Chocolate-Peanut Butter, and the week before three other different ones.

So yeah, she should’ve been there and incorporated it into her routine a lot earlier.

Coffee and pies were so much better than mojitos, anyway.

Besides, she obviously felt way more comfortable sitting on the corner of a welcoming and homelike coffee shop than surrounded by loud and drunk people. And the way Cece and the other baristas treated her? Wow. It only highlighted how stupid she had been going to that bar, pinning over a guy that gave her nothing but coldness and rudeness all the time.

The mere thought of him brought a weird feeling to her belly, and Lia tried her best to push his presence out of her mind. She was getting better at it. Faster. Which was good, because it meant she suddenly wouldn’t even remember about him anymore, right?

She stepped into the summer night breeze and crossed her arms under her chest. Another day had practically gone by. Another Wednesday. Meaning it was almost the end of the week, and then a new one would start. And she would get to repeat everything all over again.

Wake up, go to work, go home, clean up or go out for a coffee (and a slice of cheesecake), get ready for the next day, and go to bed. From Monday to Monday. With an exception here and there — like grocery shopping and doing laundry on the weekends instead of going to work, and also going downstairs and visiting Mrs. Jones for some knitting or a few rounds of card games.

The latest activity had happened for the first time only last Saturday afternoon, but Lia was keen on the idea of making it a habit. Mrs. and Ms. Jones had been living on the second floor of her building for years. They were known by most neighbors as the couple who was always bickering, but could never stay away from each other. And despite Ms. Jones’ explicit complaints about everything and everyone, everybody seemed to like them a lot—probably because no-one took his grumpiness very seriously.

She turned around the corner and looked down at her feet. Her hair blew across her eyes, blocking her view of the black sneakers her parents had given her last Christmas. They were kind of loose on her feet, but at least she wasn’t wearing those white shoes anymore. Or any other color, for that matter. At least she’d gone back to her black neutral low-key outfits.

Taking one hand up, she pulled her hair over her shoulders, then tucked some strands behind her ear.

She focused on the way her legs carried her back to her building, tracing the well-known path her steps absently followed everyday.

There was nothing like a safe, quiet, and laid-back routine, was it?

No, there wasn’t.

It was all she needed.

All she had wanted.

To be okay.

And she had finally achieved it, hadn’t she?

“Lia!”

Out of nowhere, the voice hit her like thunder. Her body staggered for a moment, and the sound lingered inside her.

It was Harry, wasn’t it?

Calling her name?

Her heart raced, and a flush of adrenaline tingled through her body.

No. Of course not.

How could it be?

Why would it be?

“Lia, hey!”

Shit.

Another thunder, and another shock to speed up her heart. Except this time she didn’t stop moving — she walked even faster.

She was afraid to be right, she didn’t want to be right, but deep down she had no doubts. She knew it was him.

She also hoped it would be.

“Wait!”

He sounded louder, and Lia knew that when thunder got louder, it meant lighting was getting closer.

Her heart pounded inside of her chest, and a low buzz rang in her ears.

She closed her hand into a fist, tightening her fingers around her keys. Maybe she could get away with pretending she didn’t hear him. Maybe, if she just walked fast enough, she would reach the door and get inside before he called again. Maybe she could run up the front steps. There were only six of them... Or were they seven? It didn’t matter. Once she got inside her building, she would be fine.

“Lia, please! Hey!”

Just get the key and open the door, Lia. C’mon… C’mon! That’s it! Now, just get inside. Go, go, go!

With shaking hands, she pushed the front door of her building and took a step inside.

“Lia, c’mon! Just, please—Hey, stop!”

Harry’s hand banged against the door, and his heavy breathing echoed between the four walls of the tiny lobby.

Lia turned on her feet with a gasp, finding Harry with his mouth open and one arm stretched out, leaning his weight on the still open door while catching his breath.

Not fast enough, Lia. Not fast enough.

“I just—Fucking hell…” Harry breathed out, chest going up and down densely. He looked down and shook his head, then faced her again. “We need… We need to talk."

Lia crossed her arms and stepped backwards. She pulled her eyebrows together as she looked at him and took her very own version of shaky breaths.

Exact eighteen days had gone by since she’d last seen him. She knew it, because she’d been counting them — as embarrassing and ridiculous as it sounded.

She had been counting them because she was determined to make the number get higher and higher.

So, so determined. So careful, and so mindful of everything.

That’s why she walked her own street with her head down — to avoid even getting a glimpse of him walking in or out of the bar. She lived as if the place didn’t exist anymore. As if she’d never stepped in there. As if she didn’t even care about what the place could be past the door.

She hadn’t counted on the possibility of Harry running after her, though.

After all, why would he?

Why did he?

He was there, flesh and bone, in the lobby of her building. Trying to talk to her. To her.

And just like any other time before, Harry looked just… Stunning.

Absolutely and unfairly stunning.

Wearing all black, just like the last time she’d seen him. Just like when she’d snapped at him and made a fool of herself. When he’d made her realize she needed to take a step back from him.

A tingle spread on her stomach.

She swallowed down, then tightened the grip of her crossed arms.

Under the black fabric of her plain t-shirt, Harry’s body seemed thick with muscle. His arms looked too big for those short sleeves, something she’d already noticed and thought about before. Something she usually enjoyed paying attention to.

Breathe in, breathe out, Lia.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Her stomach tingled again, except this time it heated all over her body.

His strong, imposing figure had always sparked inside her a flush of craving for him. It had been the reason for so many of her not-so-innocent dreams, and the encouragement for so many of her hidden fantasies. She couldn’t recall a time in her life when she had desired a man like that, and it saddened her to think there was nothing she could do about it.

“Please?” Harry insisted, sliding his hand down through the thick wood, but still holding the door open.

Great. She had forgotten to speak. Again.

Lia blinked. And swallowed. “W–why?”

Her voice was shaking just as much as her hands had been seconds before, but she couldn’t allow herself to think too much about that. She didn’t even care, to be honest. All she wanted to know and all she cared about was why.

Why was Harry there?

Why did Harry want to talk to her?

Why couldn’t she just forget about it?

Why couldn’t she just move on?

Why couldn’t she just be different?

Why couldn’t her life be different?

Why couldn’t things be different?

Why couldn’t they be easier?

Why?

Why?!

“Because you deserve an apology.”

Lia blinked again. Once, and then a couple more times.

His words not only didn’t answer most of her questions, but also created a bunch of new ones.

What was he even doing?

Was he being serious?

Or was it all just a joke to him?

“I just—I don’t—” She drew her eyebrows closer and closer, until her forehead creased and wrinkled.

"Look,” Harry said, pausing only to take a deep breath in and pull his hair back. “I know I don’t deserve it, and I get that you don’t want to listen… But I just need a minute, that’s all. Just give me a minute and I’ll be out of your way. I promise. Please.”

Lia bit the insides of her bottom lip.

Generally speaking, Lia didn’t think she would’ve been able to say no to him, because she honestly didn’t want to say no to him. Still, any doubts that could’ve dared to cross her mind and make her second guess her decision disappeared as she looked at him—as she truly looked at him.

Because everything about Harry looked just the same as always, but somehow he looked completely different from any other time before.

Maybe it was because she’d never seen him in such a casual context—after all, they had never met or talked to each other in any circumstance that didn’t involve the bar.

Shit.

Would she even be able to hold a real conversation with him?

A sigh left her mouth, and Lia dropped her shoulders.

It wasn’t even about that, was it? That is, what felt different. It wasn’t about the context or the place. Right? It was something else… Something about the way he looked at her, perhaps… Something about the way he seemed to carry softness and worry in his stare. Two things she hadn’t seen on him before. Not aiming towards her, at least.

“Okay.” Her voice was soft, and it took her by surprise — she definitely hadn’t planned on speaking up.

And apparently it took Harry by surprise, too, because he widened his eyes and asked, “Okay?”

Lia swallowed, and nodded once.

“Really?” he insisted.

“Yes… Okay.”

“Ok,” he repeated, mimicking her previous nod. He stared inside her eyes for a moment, then glanced down to the floor. It was hard to tell what was crossing his mind as he silently shuffled on his feet, or when he took his free hand up and pulled his hair back. “Right. Yeah, ok. Let’s talk, then.”

Lia pressed her lips together and waited for him to speak up first, mostly because she couldn’t think of one single thing to say to him.

Harry, on the other hand, stood there with furrowed brows and puzzled eyes, as if he was going through his own personal battle inside his own mind.

Until, eventually, he shook his head and cleared his throat.

“Sorry.” He stepped forward, and as he walked inside, he let the door go and looked over his shoulder, watching until it fully closed behind him.

There was a pause, in which he took the time to face her again and shove his hands inside of his pockets.

And then, serious and determined, Harry spoke again. “To be completely honest, I didn’t think this through. I’ve just been thinking a lot about what happened, so I wanted to apologize to you. Because I’m really sorry for the other night. And also… Well, for everything else.”

“You don’t have to,” Lia said, and she hated how she sounded way more fragile and unsure than she wanted to. “Apologize, I mean. It’s fine.”

Harry squinted, and his forehead wrinkled.

“Of course I do. Everything you said the other night was—”

“Please.” She shook her head and looked away from him, tightening her arms around herself. “I—I don’t…”

Her mouth was incredibly dry, and there was an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach that was getting hard to ignore. It was heavy, and it hurt.

She closed her hands into fists, then dug her nails into her palms to prevent herself from getting lost inside her mind. She focused on the mailboxes on the wall to her left, looking for her name that had been printed and attached under the number of her apartment so many months ago.

“I don’t want to talk about what I said. Like, I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Harry sighed.

“Lia…”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just forget about everything.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

The front door opened, and Lia turned her head to the new movement.

“I said I don’t care,” Mr. Jones’ said, his unmistakable voice reaching her ears before she could even see him. He walked in with a frown, but stopped to hold the door open for his wife. “Told you I don’t like the boy.”

Harry looked at his feet and took a step to the side, getting away from the entrance.

“You never like them, Walter,” Mrs. Jones replied with her sweet and shaky voice, walking slowly right behind him. “You’re being worse than—Oh.”

As soon as the woman met Lia’s eyes, she curled her lips into a sweet, wrinkled and excited smile.

“Good night, sweetheart! Didn’t see you there!”

“How?” the man muttered, closing the door while his wife walked a few more tiny steps forward. “They’re standing right in the way!”

Mrs. Jones kept smiling and rolled her eyes, waving her quivering hand in the air.

“Forgive my husband. He finds pleasure in being rude. And grumpy."

Lia forced a polite chuckle out of her mouth, aware that the few hours she’d spent with them over the weekend had been enough to reveal how behind the grumpiness there was a very funny and very caring man.

“‘M just telling the truth,” Mr. Jones muttered again. “Are they or are they not in the way?”

“Of course they aren’t, Walter.” Mrs. Jones dragged her feet through the lobby, right towards Lia and Harry’s direction. “There’s more than enough space for all of us to stand here.”

“But I don’t want to stand here, Mora. I want to go upstairs.”

“You can go ahead if you want. I still need to check the mail.”

Lia stepped backwards, giving the elder lady more room to cross between them and get to the mailboxes.

Mr. Jones grunted at the same time Harry sighed, and Lia pressed her lips together to hold herself back from laughing—or even smiling.

“I finished the scarf we started the other day,” Mrs. Jones said. “You should drop by for some coffee and see the result.”

Lia nodded. “Of course. This weekend, maybe?”

“Sounds good, dear. Do you like apple pie?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll make some, then.”

Mrs. Jones was sweet, she truly was. But as much as Lia didn’t want to admit, they were the worst neighbors that could’ve shown up at the lobby and interrupted them. Because she knew how unhurriedly they lived their lives, and she knew how long it could take them to finally go upstairs.

Besides, she didn’t think they were even aware they had interrupted something, so she also didn’t think they were aware that their presence was holding a conversation back.

Mrs. Jones hummed to herself while finally going through the same mailbox she opened everyday, and Harry cleared his throat.

When Lia looked at him, she found his eyes already watching her. He stood with his hands still inside of his pockets, but the previous softness on his face had been replaced by a clenched jaw and lips pressed together into a line.

“I think I should go back,” he said.

“Oh. O-okay.”

“Yeah. This isn’t—”

“Walter, look!” Mrs. Jones blurted out. “We got another grocery coupon!”

Harry shut his mouth, rolled his eyes, and looked up at the ceiling.

“Those sales are garbage,” Mr. Jones mumbled, standing near the stairs.

“Of course they aren’t,” the woman scoffed. “We get some very nice meals out of them.”

She opened the magazine, eying the content on the first two pages.

“Let’s see what we find today,” she added. “Maybe they’ve got some apples. For my apple pie.”

“Ugh. I wanna go upstairs, Mora…”

Harry rolled his shoulders and faced Lia again, instantly locking his green eyes with hers.

He looked frustrated, or maybe annoyed, and somehow she understood the feeling. Because she was frustrated, too—she didn’t want Harry to leave yet, and she more than definitely didn’t want to miss the opportunity to spend a few more minutes with him, or to listen to what else he could have to say.

So whilst he had been interrupted, she had been denied the opportunity to be around him. And all she could think about was how much she wanted for him to stay around. How much she wanted to keep listening to him, and how much she wanted for him to keep talking to her.

Lia’s fingers twitched, and her heartbeat sped up.

She loosened up the grip of her fists, opening and closing her hands a few times. Then, still stuck inside of his green eyes, she took a deep breath in through her nose, licked her lips and voiced quietly, “We can… I mean… Do you want to go upstairs? We can talk there… Y’know, if you want to.”

Harry widened his eyes.

“You sure?”

“Y-yeah. But it’s fine if you have to go. I just… I mean…”

“Upstairs sounds great.” He nodded. “Thank you.”

Lia nodded, too.

She didn’t give herself time to think about what her words could imply.

She couldn’t allow herself to think about what Harry being inside her apartment would mean, because if she did, she would send him away.

And after everything she’d been through, there was absolutely no way Lia would ever forgive herself if she just sent him away.

— — — — —

The walk upstairs was awfully silent, but Lia didn’t know what she could say to him. She wasn’t good at small talk, and she didn’t want to be the one to bring up their previous conversation. So she distracted herself by fidgeting with her keys, cursing when she dropped them, and blushing when Harry picked them up for her.

“Shit.”

“Here.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Those were the only words they spoke, then everything went silent again.

Breathless and with a pounding heart, Lia couldn’t tell if it was from walking too many flights of stairs or from the fact that she was about to take Harry inside of her apartment.

The moment she didn’t give herself to think before inviting him, hit her between the first and second floor, and it was only downhill from then on.

What was wrong with her?

What was she even thinking?!

Well, actually she wasn’t thinking. Of course. That had been the whole point, right? She didn’t think, because if she did, she wouldn’t have invited him. She knew she wouldn’t. Of course she wouldn’t! Because she shouldn’t have!

How could she be so freaking stupid?

It’s just… She didn’t even know him! And in the few and short interactions they’d shared in the past several months, he had been nothing but rude and unfairly mean to her.

So, yeah, that was such, such a terrible idea!

She’d just spent days—weeks—deeply regretting sharing her insecurities with him. Pondering about how it was time to finally move on and forget about that crush. And yet there she was again: about to let Harry burst another one of her tiny bubbles. About to open up the front door of her tiny apartment and let him in; then turn on the lights and allow him to see the insides of her safest and most personal space.

So, so stupid!

Lia reached the landing before the last set of steps and exhaled slowly, letting the air out of her mouth as if she could also release all the tension out of her body.

They were almost there.

It was getting real. It was about to happen.

And she’d have to deal with the situation.

There was no going back anymore.

Or, well…

Maybe there was, but…

Did she really want to go back?

No. Of course she didn’t.

She lifted her arm and pointed her keys ahead, aiming at the second door.

“We’re—” Her voice faltered, and heat spread through her cheeks. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “We’re here.”

She walked forward, then focused on putting the key in the lock without trembling. Once she succeeded, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, then reached for the switch and turned the light on.

“Sorry for the mess,” she said, hanging her keys on the wall.

Lia wasn’t a messy person, but she hadn’t bothered with cleaning up her apartment in the last two days.

In her defense, though, she wasn’t expecting any guests. Wednesday or not, people never showed up at her place out of nowhere. She didn’t invite anyone she didn’t feel comfortable with, and those who visited knew her well enough to always give her a heads up.

Two things Harry hadn’t done.

He seemed an exception to absolutely everything in her life so far.

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said. He kept his distance, but still stood close enough for her to feel his presence behind her. “You should see my place.”

There was a playful scoff at the end of his sentence, and Lia knew he was only being polite by insinuating how messier his own place was, but still, the prospect of visiting Harry’s home made her insides twinkle.

She had absolutely no idea where he lived, or who he lived with—was it a house? An apartment? Did he live with his family? Did he have any roommates? Did he live by himself? Did he have any pets?

Did he have a girlfriend?

Harry had never given Lia the chance for her to ask anything about his life. He had never given her the chance to get to know him.

If he had, Lia liked to believe she would’ve been brave enough to ask him everything she always wanted to know about him—about his family, his hobbies, his childhood, and even about his dreams.

He had an accent, so was she correct by assuming he was British? Was his family from there, too? Why did he leave the UK? Did he have any siblings, or was he an only child? Did he see them often? If not, did he miss them?

“It’s really nice here,” Harry said.

“Um… Yeah.” Lia shrugged. “It’s a good place to live, I guess.”

Up on the fourth floor, her rented apartment wasn’t big, nor fancy. To be honest, she’d always found everything about the place normal and simple, which felt more than enough for her. The space was limited, but it had never felt cramped. A living room and an open-concept kitchen, with only a counter setting the limits between them, and then a tiny hallway that led to the bedroom and the bathroom.

And that was it. That was all she had to offer.

“You should… I mean,” Lia said, walking further into the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, and all that…”

She walked past the coffee table and the messy remains of her laziness from the night before. After the dark gray counter, she rubbed both hands against her jeans, then turned another light on. Just at the same time, the front door clicked, and she jumped around.

Harry stood awkwardly by the dark wood, his hands hidden inside of his pockets, just like before.

“Sorry.” She leaned her side against the end of the counter. “I’m not… I’m not used to having people over, so… I’m not good at this.”

Harry shrugged, curling his lips up just slightly. “I think you’re doing great.”

Lia snorted and looked down at her feet, then crossed her arms under her chest. “Sure.”

“Look, about the—”

“Who’s at the bar?” She blurted out. “Shouldn’t you be there?”

“Uh, yeah… I should, but Sagey is there. She’s covering for me.”

Lia nodded.

“Right.”

Sagey.

The way the nickname for his coworker rolled so easily out of his tongue made her want to crawl into his arms. It screamed affection, and trust, and for a moment she envied the fact that someone could so easily be part of his life.

She closed her eyes for a second, then looked over her shoulder and back to the kitchen.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“No, thanks. Actually—”

“Tea?”

“I—”

“You’re British, right?” She faced him again. “Do you really drink tea or is that just a myth?”

Harry tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips, watching her. And then, after a moment, he just dropped his head down and chuckled.

The joyful, beautiful, and yet discreet sound that came out of his mouth was unexpected, and it once again made Lia’s heartbeat get faster and louder.

“I am British, yeah,” Harry finally said, then looked up at her. The remains of a smile still dancing through his lips. “But I’m good, thank you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Maybe some other time, though?”

The chances of her and Harry ever meeting at her apartment again didn’t seem likely, let alone for them to have a coffee or tea together. But she wouldn’t tell him that.

Instead, she nodded, and looked down at her feet. “Sure. Another time.”

“Good. Now, do you have any other questions, drinks to offer, or…”

Lia widened her eyes and darted her sight back to him.

She had been rambling a lot, hadn’t she? Not letting him talk and interrupting with awkward and stupid questions and… Shit.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head and straightening up her body. That had been so rude of her! “Really, I… I didn’t mean to keep interrupting you. Sorry.”

“C’mon, it’s fine,” Harry said, taking a step forward and closer to the couch. “I’m just teasing you.”

“It’s just... I’m—I’m nervous, I think? I mean, usually when I’m nervous I just shut up? So I don’t… I don’t really know why I can’t stop talking right now, but... Maybe... I don’t know. I guess… I guess this is a different kind of ’nervous’? I mean… I don’t… Yeah. I—I don’t know. Sorry. Shit. I’ll just shut up now. Sorry.”

She chuckled, but quickly regretted it, letting the sound fade in the silent air around them. It felt awkward, as if she was forcing the fun out of her body. And maybe she truly was, because she didn’t feel like laughing—she just thought it would be polite to do so. That it would be better if she looked happy, instead of insecure. Or nervous. Or sad.

“Lia, I don’t…” Harry looked down, took a deep breath in, and shook his head. When he met her eyes again, his tone—along with his actions—was clearly softer, careful. Almost afraid. “Look, I’m the only one who should be apologizing here. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? And I am sorry Lia, I really am. Those things you said the other night were—"

“It’s okay.” Lia shook her head and stepped towards the couch. “Like I said, I really don’t want to talk about any of the things I said.”

She grabbed the blanket she’d left there the night before, wrapping it as best as she could and holding it onto her chest.

“But I—”

“Those were very personal things for me to share okay? And I just— Please… I mean… I can’t—I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ok. Yes. Of course. I shouldn’t… I don’t want to force you to talk about it. I just need to make sure you know how sorry I am for making you feel that way. Because I really am.”

Shit.

She turned around, dropping the cozy and warm fabric on the armchair.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, c’mon. I was out of line and shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

Lia sighed.

What did he want her to say?

Yes, he’d hurt her, but she was trying to move on. So relieving the whole situation wouldn’t help her.

Besides, it wasn’t Harry’s fault if she didn’t know how to talk or interact with people.

“Lia…” he called.

She dropped her arms to her sides, then turned to face him once again.

She really didn’t want to talk about it.

“Can you please let it go? It’s just… I shouldn’t have said anything. And I’m really embarrassed about the whole thing.”

He hid his hands inside his pockets and shrugged.

“I’m embarrassed, too. Acted like a proper… What was it? Oh right, like an asshole.”

Lia’s mouth curled up into a smile, and she bit her bottom lip to hold it back.

Despite the embarrassment, a part of her felt proud of herself for calling him out that night. Both nights. Standing up to people was really hard for her. She almost never cursed out loud, nor disrespected people in any way, so calling Harry an asshole—more than once—had felt like crossing a bridge.

Still, it didn’t mean she thought it was a nice thing to do. Or that he couldn’t have found it offensive.

“Sorry… For calling you an asshole.”

Harry curled one side of his mouth up. “I totally deserved it.”

There was a playful tone in his voice, but the way he was suddenly looking at her made it impossible for Lia to react.

Dark green irises fixed on her, they drifted all over her face.

Even standing on opposite sides of the living room, Harry focused on her in a way he hadn’t focused before. Giving her all of his attention. As if he was studying her every detail. Or as if he had never seen her before. Or as if he was mapping every left and right to remember a path he’d trail later in time.

To be honest, it would be difficult for Lia to explain, but something about his stare made her stomach flutter. It caused a flush of shyness to spread from her shoulders to her neck, and all over her face.

At the same time, though, his gaze comforted her. It made her feel like he was trying his best to be gentle to her. It made her feel like he was being honest with her. Like he somehow cared for her.

“Shit,” Harry murmured, breaking the moment and looking down to his pants. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, staring at the screen as it flashed between his fingers. “It’s Sagey.”

Oh.

He sighed, yet didn’t make any effort to act on it.

“I should go back.”

Lia cleared her throat, then crossed her arms under her chest.

“Right. Of course.”

“I wouldn’t, but…”

“You have to work.”

“Yeah.”

Time froze as they silently looked at each other.

It felt exciting, even though at moments it took everything inside her not to run away from the intensity of his gaze.

“Sagey is still getting used to everything,” he suddenly added. “And I know she can handle it, but I don’t wanna leave her by herself for too long. Can be kind of hectic sometimes.”

Lia shrugged, pulling her lips into the most genuine smile she could find inside her. “You don’t need to explain yourself.”

“I know, yeah. I just…”

Harry looked down, and Lia tilted her head to the side.

What, Harry?

You just... What?!

He sighed.

“You believe I’m sorry, right?”

Lia didn’t have to force a smile after his words—it came out naturally as she nodded.

“I do, yes.”

“Ok. Good.” He looked over his shoulder, towards the door. “I’ll get going, then.”

“Right. Let me open the door for you.” Lia walked around the coffee table, as fast and as far away from him as she could.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind the fact that she wasn’t going to walk him downstairs—she didn’t think she would be able to handle any more awkward conversations with him.

Harry followed her lead, taking a few steps closer to the door before he cleared his throat.

“You should come by tonight… If you’re free, of course.”

As she opened the door, Lia furrowed her brows. She stepped aside, then faced him again.

Harry chuckled, shrugging lightly and walking outside.

“To the bar, I mean. Feel like I owe you a drink.”

Oh…

Lia rested her temple against the frame, half-smiling at him. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Yeah, I do. For being rude to you.”

“Harry, stop. I—”

“Look,” he said, raising both hands in the air and showing his palms to her, “all I’m offering you is a free drink. That’s all, ok? No pressure.”

There was no way she was going to walk into the bar that night, or any other any time soon. But he didn’t need to know that, so Lia bit back a smile, and nodded.

“Okay. Sure. Thank you, then.”

“Ok.” Harry smiled. “Great. Then… I guess I’ll… Well…”

“Yes?”

“Bye, Lia.”

“Bye, Harry.”

“Have a good night.”

Lia chuckled. “Thanks. You too.”

“See you soon.”

“See you.”

“Bye.”

“Goodbye, Harry.”

“Actually…”